E.C. Stilson's Blog, page 68
March 6, 2014
How to make a spud gun.
There are so many awesome blog recipes out there; I thought I'd contribute one of my own. It's not how to cook quiche or how to create a perfect potato soup. Instead it's: how to make a spud gun.
Ingredients:Flint igniter (grill igniter) I got mine at ACE. I've heard you can get them at Wally World in the camping section4" ABS cleanout plug (Make sure to use ABS pipe. ABS will split from pressure, but PVC will shatter)4" ABS fitting cleanout adapter 4" ABS coupling 4" x 24" ABS pipe 2" x 4" ABS increaser reducer 2" x 48" ABS pipe ABS cleaner, primer, & cement Sack of Idaho potatoes Hair spray (aerosol) We discovered that Aquanet works the very best
Preparation Instructions:1. Cut the ABS sections to length (or do what I did and convince the nice Home Depot employee to cut them for you.) Cement all the ABS parts EXCEPT THE CLEANOUT PLUG together.2. Drill two 1/8" holes in the middle of the 4" x 24" ABS pipe then install the igniter with its included hardware. Use electrical tape to tape it down. Don't use duct tape since it's conductive. I left my wires long so I could detonate it from a couple feet away if I wanted to.Note: My friend actually screwed the igniter right into the ignition chamber. Her igniter got an arc without the wires, but mine didn't. If your igniter gets an arc without the wires, then you don't have to drill two holes, instead you can drill one large one and screw the igniter into place.3. File the end of the 2" x 48" ABS pipe so you can shove the potato in easier. Wait at least 24 hours for the glue to dry!!!4. You're done. I read somewhere that these only shoot 20-30 feet. That is not true! This went at least 250 yards. The bigger the barrel the greater the distance. Find a nice big area and go have fun. Stay safe. These are very dangerous and not toys. Don't ever aim at someone and if you can . . . avoid making this altogether! My funny story of the day involves what a hassle it was finding the flint igniter. I went to five different stores. Apparently the only people who buy barbecue igniters--WITHOUT the rest of the grill--make potato launchers. I walked into one store and asked, "Do you sell flint igniters?" The man eyed me. "What ya want with one of them?" I paused because I'm a sucky liar. "Ummm. I want to fix . . . something." "Your grill?" I looked down. "Are you making a potato launcher, Ma'am?" I acted offended, REALLY offended. "Do I look like the type of person who'd build a potato launcher?" "I . . . I guess not. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything." "I'll let it slide this time," I said. But it turned out he didn't have the igniter anyway. My whole "innocent act" had been for nothing! So I went to a couple more stores and by the time I got to the fourth one I learned to ask for a "barbecue igniter" instead of a "flint igniter." It turns out people are less judgmental when you say the word, "barbecue." I expected our conversation to go similarly to the one I already told you about. "Do you sell barbecue igniters?" "Are you making a potato launcher?" the man asked--point blank. I paled, not believing my code word "bar-be-cue" hadn't worked on that man. I shook my head. "Are you lying to me?" He pushed his glasses farther up his nose and crossed his arms. I watched his foot tap the seconds away. "So?" What was it, twenty questions! I stayed silent and then realized I wasn't sitting in a principal's office; I was there to buy something. I was the customer. The big-fat ball of goodness was in my court! "Do you sell them or what?" "Fine," he said. "I'll show you where the igniters are." He led me down rows of gadgets and gizmos. I could almost hear the whirring of strange contraptions and the snapping of oblong lights going on and off. "Here are the igniters." He'd let me to the camping section. That wasn't the lighter I wanted. Sure I could buy it if I needed to start a camp fire and cook my potatoes instead of launch them. "Thank you so much," I said. "But that's not what I'm looking for." "Because you're making a potato launcher." His eyes practically spurted flames. "I'm not." "You ARE!" "I'm not!" "Are too!" "Fine." I glared at him. "You wanna know so badly? I AM making a potato launcher. I love potatoes and I want to launch them!!!" "Well, then, I can't sell this igniter to you." "That's not the right kind anyway!!!" I stomped from the store, but the man laughed as I walked out. I think he'd had a great time. So at the next place I found the damn igniter myself. Sure it took me a long time, but I found it and finally got to launch some potatoes. "Was it worth it?" you ask. "All the heartache and time it took me to find that igniter?" Absolutely! Because there's nothing quite as cool as flying potatoes.
Me and my spud gun 
Ingredients:Flint igniter (grill igniter) I got mine at ACE. I've heard you can get them at Wally World in the camping section4" ABS cleanout plug (Make sure to use ABS pipe. ABS will split from pressure, but PVC will shatter)4" ABS fitting cleanout adapter 4" ABS coupling 4" x 24" ABS pipe 2" x 4" ABS increaser reducer 2" x 48" ABS pipe ABS cleaner, primer, & cement Sack of Idaho potatoes Hair spray (aerosol) We discovered that Aquanet works the very best
Preparation Instructions:1. Cut the ABS sections to length (or do what I did and convince the nice Home Depot employee to cut them for you.) Cement all the ABS parts EXCEPT THE CLEANOUT PLUG together.2. Drill two 1/8" holes in the middle of the 4" x 24" ABS pipe then install the igniter with its included hardware. Use electrical tape to tape it down. Don't use duct tape since it's conductive. I left my wires long so I could detonate it from a couple feet away if I wanted to.Note: My friend actually screwed the igniter right into the ignition chamber. Her igniter got an arc without the wires, but mine didn't. If your igniter gets an arc without the wires, then you don't have to drill two holes, instead you can drill one large one and screw the igniter into place.3. File the end of the 2" x 48" ABS pipe so you can shove the potato in easier. Wait at least 24 hours for the glue to dry!!!4. You're done. I read somewhere that these only shoot 20-30 feet. That is not true! This went at least 250 yards. The bigger the barrel the greater the distance. Find a nice big area and go have fun. Stay safe. These are very dangerous and not toys. Don't ever aim at someone and if you can . . . avoid making this altogether! My funny story of the day involves what a hassle it was finding the flint igniter. I went to five different stores. Apparently the only people who buy barbecue igniters--WITHOUT the rest of the grill--make potato launchers. I walked into one store and asked, "Do you sell flint igniters?" The man eyed me. "What ya want with one of them?" I paused because I'm a sucky liar. "Ummm. I want to fix . . . something." "Your grill?" I looked down. "Are you making a potato launcher, Ma'am?" I acted offended, REALLY offended. "Do I look like the type of person who'd build a potato launcher?" "I . . . I guess not. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything." "I'll let it slide this time," I said. But it turned out he didn't have the igniter anyway. My whole "innocent act" had been for nothing! So I went to a couple more stores and by the time I got to the fourth one I learned to ask for a "barbecue igniter" instead of a "flint igniter." It turns out people are less judgmental when you say the word, "barbecue." I expected our conversation to go similarly to the one I already told you about. "Do you sell barbecue igniters?" "Are you making a potato launcher?" the man asked--point blank. I paled, not believing my code word "bar-be-cue" hadn't worked on that man. I shook my head. "Are you lying to me?" He pushed his glasses farther up his nose and crossed his arms. I watched his foot tap the seconds away. "So?" What was it, twenty questions! I stayed silent and then realized I wasn't sitting in a principal's office; I was there to buy something. I was the customer. The big-fat ball of goodness was in my court! "Do you sell them or what?" "Fine," he said. "I'll show you where the igniters are." He led me down rows of gadgets and gizmos. I could almost hear the whirring of strange contraptions and the snapping of oblong lights going on and off. "Here are the igniters." He'd let me to the camping section. That wasn't the lighter I wanted. Sure I could buy it if I needed to start a camp fire and cook my potatoes instead of launch them. "Thank you so much," I said. "But that's not what I'm looking for." "Because you're making a potato launcher." His eyes practically spurted flames. "I'm not." "You ARE!" "I'm not!" "Are too!" "Fine." I glared at him. "You wanna know so badly? I AM making a potato launcher. I love potatoes and I want to launch them!!!" "Well, then, I can't sell this igniter to you." "That's not the right kind anyway!!!" I stomped from the store, but the man laughed as I walked out. I think he'd had a great time. So at the next place I found the damn igniter myself. Sure it took me a long time, but I found it and finally got to launch some potatoes. "Was it worth it?" you ask. "All the heartache and time it took me to find that igniter?" Absolutely! Because there's nothing quite as cool as flying potatoes.
Me and my spud gun
March 5, 2014
How to Have an Ugly Baby
I swear I'm not making this up . . .
To have an ugly baby you must:
#1 Swoon Mr. Bean
#2 Eat unhealthily . . . healthy eating leads to cute babies. Unhealthy eating--if it involves coke and chips--also leads to cute babies. If you're wanting to pack an ugly, you must eat things like MSG and those gummy candies with loads of dye in them!
#3 You must have whoopie in the light. Darkness leads to cute babies. If you're going for an ugly one, please keep the lights on full blast. Buy photography spotlights if you have to, construction lights, I don't care; just do it!
#4 Have your man drink three cups of coffee right before making "the ugly." Three cups--to the drop--no more, no less.
#5 Never--UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES--eat cereal. This is a fatal 'no, no' as cereal leads to ultimate cuteness. I've watched it happen time and again. Mothers who eat cereal have prize-winning babies. I know a baby named Sam who's a cover model--trust me, her mom ate cereal.
#6 The reverse cowboy position is your bane. Don't do it! Anything to do with cowboys . . . it leads to cute babies.
Well, I guess not ALL things related to cowboys.
Cowboy Mimes might actually help babies cross over to the ugly side! I normally LOVE mimes, but this is just strange--in a Joker kind of way!
So, with all that being said . . . I'm totally kidding. I googled "How to have a boy" and most of this information came up as what NOT to do. Whether you believe it or not, that's up to you, but for me . . . I think it's hilariously awesome!
I've been thinking of babies filled with ugliness because of my friend's daughter. She came over and randomly told me some of her theories on life. "I know how to make an ugly baby," she said.
I cleared my throat and after wiping the shock from my face, squinted in her direction and said, "Oh, really? And how does one go about . . . making an ugly baby?"
"Well, two ugly people, will make an ugly baby. Two good looking people, will make an ugly baby. The only way to have a cute baby, is if you have one ugly person and one cute person."
"So . . . you better find yourself an ugly man," I said.
"Exactly," she said and plopped down on my couch.
"But what about Depp?" I asked knowing she has a thing for good ol' Johnny.
"Johnny Depp?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She thought for a minute. "If I married him, then I'd adopt. People have to make concessions sometimes."
We always have the funniest conversations. I'm just glad I'm not the only one who has such awesome theories.
Do you have any golden theories? I hope you do because I'd love to read them!
To have an ugly baby you must:
#1 Swoon Mr. Bean
#2 Eat unhealthily . . . healthy eating leads to cute babies. Unhealthy eating--if it involves coke and chips--also leads to cute babies. If you're wanting to pack an ugly, you must eat things like MSG and those gummy candies with loads of dye in them!
#3 You must have whoopie in the light. Darkness leads to cute babies. If you're going for an ugly one, please keep the lights on full blast. Buy photography spotlights if you have to, construction lights, I don't care; just do it!
#4 Have your man drink three cups of coffee right before making "the ugly." Three cups--to the drop--no more, no less.
#5 Never--UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES--eat cereal. This is a fatal 'no, no' as cereal leads to ultimate cuteness. I've watched it happen time and again. Mothers who eat cereal have prize-winning babies. I know a baby named Sam who's a cover model--trust me, her mom ate cereal.
#6 The reverse cowboy position is your bane. Don't do it! Anything to do with cowboys . . . it leads to cute babies.
Well, I guess not ALL things related to cowboys.
Cowboy Mimes might actually help babies cross over to the ugly side! I normally LOVE mimes, but this is just strange--in a Joker kind of way!
So, with all that being said . . . I'm totally kidding. I googled "How to have a boy" and most of this information came up as what NOT to do. Whether you believe it or not, that's up to you, but for me . . . I think it's hilariously awesome!
I've been thinking of babies filled with ugliness because of my friend's daughter. She came over and randomly told me some of her theories on life. "I know how to make an ugly baby," she said.
I cleared my throat and after wiping the shock from my face, squinted in her direction and said, "Oh, really? And how does one go about . . . making an ugly baby?"
"Well, two ugly people, will make an ugly baby. Two good looking people, will make an ugly baby. The only way to have a cute baby, is if you have one ugly person and one cute person."
"So . . . you better find yourself an ugly man," I said.
"Exactly," she said and plopped down on my couch.
"But what about Depp?" I asked knowing she has a thing for good ol' Johnny.
"Johnny Depp?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She thought for a minute. "If I married him, then I'd adopt. People have to make concessions sometimes."
We always have the funniest conversations. I'm just glad I'm not the only one who has such awesome theories.
Do you have any golden theories? I hope you do because I'd love to read them!
March 4, 2014
How to Avoid Having Sex
Want to know 10 hilarious ways to avoid having sex?
Like "The Headache," "Death in the Family," "The Kids Can Hear Us."
Well, guess what--I just landed a radio interview with famous comedian Brian Shirley!!!
I'm so stoked...
On March 12th at 5:15 pm EST, join us online at: HERE
This is the book I'll be talking about:
Click HERE to find it on Amazon.
Also, congrats to Jodi Kellerfor winning the $50 giftcard to Novica.Click HERE to visit the Novica website yourself. :)
Have an awesome day, you guys!
Like "The Headache," "Death in the Family," "The Kids Can Hear Us."
Well, guess what--I just landed a radio interview with famous comedian Brian Shirley!!!
I'm so stoked...
On March 12th at 5:15 pm EST, join us online at: HERE
This is the book I'll be talking about:
Click HERE to find it on Amazon.
Also, congrats to Jodi Kellerfor winning the $50 giftcard to Novica.Click HERE to visit the Novica website yourself. :)
Have an awesome day, you guys!
February 28, 2014
Losing a Battle to Drugs
We were always meant to know each other.
When we met at fifteen it seemed as if we'd been friends from lifetimes before.
We fell in love one night, crawling combat-style through a mine. I wore ripped jeans, but had done my hair like a prom queen 'cause I wanted to impress you--the cutest boy in school. Of course you wore designer clothes and a sporty shirt that made your muscles bulge. We didn't look the part but were both willing to get down and dirty.
I remember looking back through that mine, shining a flashlight in your direction. You chuckled, admitting you never pegged me for the adventurous type either. The whole experience was unreal AND I couldn't believe you'd given the school nerd a chance.
We made it through those close mine-spaces, each reveling in the other's humor and ability to navigate through anything--I thought you'd be like that through life too . . . I hoped.
That night I'd worn a gorgeous ring on my wedding finger--from another guy--but as I drove home from the mine, I threw the ring out my car window and it disappeared in the snow edging Parley's Canyon.
Our relationship continued from there, and I swear all the other girls were jealous. Why HAD you given me a chance when you could have anyone?
Time passed. I learned about your home life and how you needed someone adventurous and fun like me, just to get your mind off things. The shit you lived through appalled me. I couldn't imagine a step-family like that. I couldn't imagine a huge, muscular person being verbally abused . . . or physically hurt.
We would dance back then, without any music. Once we sneaked away from a school prom. I wore an evening gown, then climbed a cold statue. You talked up to me, like I was your damn Juliet, telling me I'd caught the stars in my glowing eyes. I jumped down and you spun me. We sat back-to-back on a cement wall afterward, then hugged for hours, me trying to take away every bit of pain you'd ever felt at home and school when you were severely bullied in younger years.
You brought flowers to me during class when we were Juniors; even though you should have been in class too. I heard rumors later that you'd sneaked out and your teacher didn't even know you were gone. You filled my locker with gifts. Always did the right thing. Always said the right things. My friends agreed that "we" were the couple everyone idolized. And no one knew all the shit both of us hid inside.
When we broke up, I thought it would kill me . . . and maybe you too. We held hands in front of your dad's house: You begging me to stop listening to my family when they said I needed to date a boy from church. Me asking if you'd really done drugs.
"We'll run away," we both cried. "Pack up the stupid car and forget religion, judgment, and addiction. Forget popularity. Forget everyone's opinions."
BUT . . . I knew you were on drugs despite how strong and healthy you looked. You even admitted it once, saying the drugs made you a tail-chaser . . . it wasn't your fault.
And I stayed . . .
for a while.
___
In the end, it didn't work.
You came to visit me where I waitressed. I saw you with a million different girls. They were gorgeous and perfectly dressed while my hair was in a tight bun, and a dirty work apron hugged my waist. I always smiled and wished you the best. And after time, our romance completely died within me like winter finally came into my young life. And at the beginning of our Senior year that previous love blossomed into an unconditional friendship, the likes of which I'd never seen.
___
Each of us got married, wished the other the best. After that I thought I wouldn't see you anymore. I moved up North. Surprisingly, so did you.
Somehow, we always found each other. Chancing upon each other at a gas station. A grocery store. A bowling alley. Even on the street. And we'd catch up. You looking skinnier and skinnier. Me wrinkling with age.
Although things weren't perfect for either of us, people saw our outter appearances and didn't even comprehend what we'd gone through. The only ones who really got it . . . were us. And every time I ran into you, I wondered if I could have made a difference in your life if we hadn't broken up forever ago. And you said, you wished we'd never given up. Little did I know, what a difference we'd still make in each other's lives. . . .
Years after you'd sobered up, things exploded in my life. You found me at the women's shelter, told me everything would be okay. I heard about your divorce, and then the tragic things that followed. How you'd become homeless, barely surviving. You were in a stand-off where you were almost shot.
I told you how my marriage ended too--that I'd also been homeless. How I'd made poor choice after poor choice and lost relationships I could never get back.
We sat back-to-back on a different cement wall from our youth. You hugged me for hours, in those strong arms I never truly forgot.
After that I started getting my life back together. We hiked and went caving, so reminiscent of a mine in my most cherished memories.
Me, on one of our infamous hikes
Then as we sat eating dinner one night with my four kids, you said you'd always love us as family. And I knew exactly what you meant because the feeling was mutual.
We said we'd always be honest. ALWAYS stay friends. Always have each other's backs. But then our friendship changed. . . .
I threw another ring out my van window. There were new flowers waiting for me, not in a high school class, this time they were arranged on my kitchen table with a beautiful card.
And memories came back, with more impact than I'd banked on.
But although we're adults now, we're still the same core people. No matter how much each of us pushed and tried, things didn't feel right between us, and so I cried because we both knew it would never work. We were destined to only be friends.
Then you started losing weight. You started chasing tail like crazy. I turned into a serious nag. And our friendship almost died.
So we sat down at last, made good on our promise and told each other the truth. We were sobbing on my front porch, both husks of what once was: you skinny and sad, me tired and weak. And as the neighbors walked past, asking if we were okay, I knew, people no longer envied us like they had in high school.
Why does life cycle like this? Why couldn't my friendship have been more to help you? Why couldn't yours have saved me? And why can't it ever be enough?
I'm losing my mind as it is . . . and now I'm losing you too.
___
I've had dreams that you died from an overdose. And there was a hole in my life--the kind you can't imagine. I go to gas stations, bowling alleys, groceries stores, even the damn women's shelter--just hoping to catch a glimpse of your ghost. But you aren't there--you're never there.
And no matter how many rings I throw out car windows . . . Or how many times I'm smelling the musty dried flowers you gave me years ago, I won't get my friend back. I lost you because I wasn't stronger than the damn cravings. And you lost me because I'd been looking for a hero instead of finding the strength inside myself.
And so in my dream you're gone. And in real life, you aren't here either.
And, my life will never be the same.
Dedicated to those who might be losing their battle to drugs. Please stop and think about what you're doing to your life and the lives of those you love.
This is my stand against drugs and the hardships that often lead people to drug abuse.
When we met at fifteen it seemed as if we'd been friends from lifetimes before.
We fell in love one night, crawling combat-style through a mine. I wore ripped jeans, but had done my hair like a prom queen 'cause I wanted to impress you--the cutest boy in school. Of course you wore designer clothes and a sporty shirt that made your muscles bulge. We didn't look the part but were both willing to get down and dirty.
I remember looking back through that mine, shining a flashlight in your direction. You chuckled, admitting you never pegged me for the adventurous type either. The whole experience was unreal AND I couldn't believe you'd given the school nerd a chance.
We made it through those close mine-spaces, each reveling in the other's humor and ability to navigate through anything--I thought you'd be like that through life too . . . I hoped.
That night I'd worn a gorgeous ring on my wedding finger--from another guy--but as I drove home from the mine, I threw the ring out my car window and it disappeared in the snow edging Parley's Canyon.
Our relationship continued from there, and I swear all the other girls were jealous. Why HAD you given me a chance when you could have anyone?
Time passed. I learned about your home life and how you needed someone adventurous and fun like me, just to get your mind off things. The shit you lived through appalled me. I couldn't imagine a step-family like that. I couldn't imagine a huge, muscular person being verbally abused . . . or physically hurt.
We would dance back then, without any music. Once we sneaked away from a school prom. I wore an evening gown, then climbed a cold statue. You talked up to me, like I was your damn Juliet, telling me I'd caught the stars in my glowing eyes. I jumped down and you spun me. We sat back-to-back on a cement wall afterward, then hugged for hours, me trying to take away every bit of pain you'd ever felt at home and school when you were severely bullied in younger years.
You brought flowers to me during class when we were Juniors; even though you should have been in class too. I heard rumors later that you'd sneaked out and your teacher didn't even know you were gone. You filled my locker with gifts. Always did the right thing. Always said the right things. My friends agreed that "we" were the couple everyone idolized. And no one knew all the shit both of us hid inside.
When we broke up, I thought it would kill me . . . and maybe you too. We held hands in front of your dad's house: You begging me to stop listening to my family when they said I needed to date a boy from church. Me asking if you'd really done drugs.
"We'll run away," we both cried. "Pack up the stupid car and forget religion, judgment, and addiction. Forget popularity. Forget everyone's opinions."
BUT . . . I knew you were on drugs despite how strong and healthy you looked. You even admitted it once, saying the drugs made you a tail-chaser . . . it wasn't your fault.
And I stayed . . .
for a while.
___
In the end, it didn't work.
You came to visit me where I waitressed. I saw you with a million different girls. They were gorgeous and perfectly dressed while my hair was in a tight bun, and a dirty work apron hugged my waist. I always smiled and wished you the best. And after time, our romance completely died within me like winter finally came into my young life. And at the beginning of our Senior year that previous love blossomed into an unconditional friendship, the likes of which I'd never seen.
___
Each of us got married, wished the other the best. After that I thought I wouldn't see you anymore. I moved up North. Surprisingly, so did you.
Somehow, we always found each other. Chancing upon each other at a gas station. A grocery store. A bowling alley. Even on the street. And we'd catch up. You looking skinnier and skinnier. Me wrinkling with age.
Although things weren't perfect for either of us, people saw our outter appearances and didn't even comprehend what we'd gone through. The only ones who really got it . . . were us. And every time I ran into you, I wondered if I could have made a difference in your life if we hadn't broken up forever ago. And you said, you wished we'd never given up. Little did I know, what a difference we'd still make in each other's lives. . . .
Years after you'd sobered up, things exploded in my life. You found me at the women's shelter, told me everything would be okay. I heard about your divorce, and then the tragic things that followed. How you'd become homeless, barely surviving. You were in a stand-off where you were almost shot.
I told you how my marriage ended too--that I'd also been homeless. How I'd made poor choice after poor choice and lost relationships I could never get back.
We sat back-to-back on a different cement wall from our youth. You hugged me for hours, in those strong arms I never truly forgot.
After that I started getting my life back together. We hiked and went caving, so reminiscent of a mine in my most cherished memories.
Me, on one of our infamous hikes
Then as we sat eating dinner one night with my four kids, you said you'd always love us as family. And I knew exactly what you meant because the feeling was mutual.
We said we'd always be honest. ALWAYS stay friends. Always have each other's backs. But then our friendship changed. . . .
I threw another ring out my van window. There were new flowers waiting for me, not in a high school class, this time they were arranged on my kitchen table with a beautiful card.
And memories came back, with more impact than I'd banked on.
But although we're adults now, we're still the same core people. No matter how much each of us pushed and tried, things didn't feel right between us, and so I cried because we both knew it would never work. We were destined to only be friends.
Then you started losing weight. You started chasing tail like crazy. I turned into a serious nag. And our friendship almost died.
So we sat down at last, made good on our promise and told each other the truth. We were sobbing on my front porch, both husks of what once was: you skinny and sad, me tired and weak. And as the neighbors walked past, asking if we were okay, I knew, people no longer envied us like they had in high school.
Why does life cycle like this? Why couldn't my friendship have been more to help you? Why couldn't yours have saved me? And why can't it ever be enough?
I'm losing my mind as it is . . . and now I'm losing you too.
___
I've had dreams that you died from an overdose. And there was a hole in my life--the kind you can't imagine. I go to gas stations, bowling alleys, groceries stores, even the damn women's shelter--just hoping to catch a glimpse of your ghost. But you aren't there--you're never there.
And no matter how many rings I throw out car windows . . . Or how many times I'm smelling the musty dried flowers you gave me years ago, I won't get my friend back. I lost you because I wasn't stronger than the damn cravings. And you lost me because I'd been looking for a hero instead of finding the strength inside myself.
And so in my dream you're gone. And in real life, you aren't here either.
And, my life will never be the same.
Dedicated to those who might be losing their battle to drugs. Please stop and think about what you're doing to your life and the lives of those you love.
This is my stand against drugs and the hardships that often lead people to drug abuse.
February 22, 2014
Two Choices: Forgiveness . . . or Damnation
This is a continuation from the past two days.
To read Part I, please go HERE .To read Part II, click HERE .
I'd made a choice, picked a mortal man instead of an eternity in Heaven. When push came to shove, the man picked money over me, and now I'd melted into a sobbing mess in the middle of a white room. . . .
The rest of my dream:
A blinding light entered the room. "YOU feel betrayed? How do you think I feel? YOU traded an eternity in Heaven, for a mortal man!"
I tried quelling my own sobbing, gritted my teeth and gazed up, hoping not to seem afraid.
A figure stood there, glowing brighter than the sun. I slammed my eyes shut again and the glow brightened so that his presence still blinded me even behind closed eyelids.
"Yes!" I yelled, even though I should have stayed quiet. "I feel betrayed because I WAS betrayed. What's it to YOU?"
"Oh, Elisa! You have no idea what true love can be or what it should be." The light levitated toward me and a searing-hot hand branded my shoulder. "Let me show you love."
Someone's memories shot through my mind, but nothing I'd fully remembered or been aware of. I saw myself as a fetus, just a blob as time sped forward and I slowly took shape in my mother's womb.
Then I saw myself playing soccer as a kid. Except that damn blinding light was in the stands, even right next to me as I scored a goal.
After that, time sped forward to high school exams and dances, even to a night when a guy almost raped me. Right as I'd been about to scream, a cop knocked on the guy's truck window and saved me. I saw the blinding light standing by the cop, there once again. And the police officer made sure the guy drove me home!
Then I saw myself as a homeless kid when I was 17. I wore utter rags, playing my violin, hoping just to make a dollar and some change so I could buy a Big Mac.
That light was there, guiding people to give me change!
The moments went on and on.
Through my good and bad times. My wedding day. The births of my babies. All the stupid violin gigs I had where no family or friends had shown up--the light. Was. There.
When my son died, and I had to pull the plug. That light embraced my son's soul as he drifted toward the ceiling. And to think, I never knew what happened to my boy's beautiful spirit.
And I realized . . . I wasn't alone. I was never alone. And I've been so loved. We. All. Have. By the One who created us.
I saw myself crying, deserted in my house, after my husband and I split and my kids were with him for the weekend. I'd felt so desolate . . . but that light--that damn light was always there.
Even when I dated a married man, wishing beyond anything that we'd work out. . . . And I'd begged him to be with me. . . . behaving like a pathetic loser.
Or when I felt so inadequate I got implants.
Or when I worked extra graveyards as a security guard, just to buy groceries and Christmas presents for my kids.
The light didn't care about my failings or how many times I'd fallen. That light, was love. And love . . . is God.
The hand left my shoulder and I felt the glow of forgiveness lighting up my skin. It didn't hurt like before, but rather healed ALL my sorrows.
"Oh, God," I said to the Light of Understanding, that same Light still next to me in the room. "I'm so sorry for choosing something, anything, or anyone, over you. How could I forsake the One who made me?"
A big breath left my chest. More tears flooded my eyes as I stood and prayed for forgiveness.
"Elisa, never forget this. Never forget this love. It's inside you, can be inside of everyone who lets God in."
"But, God. I chose a man over you! How can you forgive me?"
"Because I've always been there; I always will be. And I know your heart."
Then the words from John 14:27 filled the air:
I am leaving you with a gift,peace of mind and heart.And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give.So don't be troubled or afraid. ~New Living Translation
The light faded, leaving me in the dark, yet still brimming with hope. THAT was the end of my dream.
I've only had a handful of life-changing dreams in my life, but this was definitely one of them. And although I know it might not speak to everyone, it spoke to me. I hope it'll bless someone else's life as much as it's helped me see things in a different perspective.
Yeah, life can suck, but God's love will get me through.
To read Part I, please go HERE .To read Part II, click HERE .
I'd made a choice, picked a mortal man instead of an eternity in Heaven. When push came to shove, the man picked money over me, and now I'd melted into a sobbing mess in the middle of a white room. . . .
The rest of my dream:
A blinding light entered the room. "YOU feel betrayed? How do you think I feel? YOU traded an eternity in Heaven, for a mortal man!"
I tried quelling my own sobbing, gritted my teeth and gazed up, hoping not to seem afraid.
A figure stood there, glowing brighter than the sun. I slammed my eyes shut again and the glow brightened so that his presence still blinded me even behind closed eyelids.
"Yes!" I yelled, even though I should have stayed quiet. "I feel betrayed because I WAS betrayed. What's it to YOU?"
"Oh, Elisa! You have no idea what true love can be or what it should be." The light levitated toward me and a searing-hot hand branded my shoulder. "Let me show you love."
Someone's memories shot through my mind, but nothing I'd fully remembered or been aware of. I saw myself as a fetus, just a blob as time sped forward and I slowly took shape in my mother's womb.
Then I saw myself playing soccer as a kid. Except that damn blinding light was in the stands, even right next to me as I scored a goal.
After that, time sped forward to high school exams and dances, even to a night when a guy almost raped me. Right as I'd been about to scream, a cop knocked on the guy's truck window and saved me. I saw the blinding light standing by the cop, there once again. And the police officer made sure the guy drove me home!
Then I saw myself as a homeless kid when I was 17. I wore utter rags, playing my violin, hoping just to make a dollar and some change so I could buy a Big Mac.
That light was there, guiding people to give me change!
The moments went on and on.
Through my good and bad times. My wedding day. The births of my babies. All the stupid violin gigs I had where no family or friends had shown up--the light. Was. There.
When my son died, and I had to pull the plug. That light embraced my son's soul as he drifted toward the ceiling. And to think, I never knew what happened to my boy's beautiful spirit.
And I realized . . . I wasn't alone. I was never alone. And I've been so loved. We. All. Have. By the One who created us.
I saw myself crying, deserted in my house, after my husband and I split and my kids were with him for the weekend. I'd felt so desolate . . . but that light--that damn light was always there.
Even when I dated a married man, wishing beyond anything that we'd work out. . . . And I'd begged him to be with me. . . . behaving like a pathetic loser.
Or when I felt so inadequate I got implants.
Or when I worked extra graveyards as a security guard, just to buy groceries and Christmas presents for my kids.
The light didn't care about my failings or how many times I'd fallen. That light, was love. And love . . . is God.
The hand left my shoulder and I felt the glow of forgiveness lighting up my skin. It didn't hurt like before, but rather healed ALL my sorrows.
"Oh, God," I said to the Light of Understanding, that same Light still next to me in the room. "I'm so sorry for choosing something, anything, or anyone, over you. How could I forsake the One who made me?"
A big breath left my chest. More tears flooded my eyes as I stood and prayed for forgiveness.
"Elisa, never forget this. Never forget this love. It's inside you, can be inside of everyone who lets God in."
"But, God. I chose a man over you! How can you forgive me?"
"Because I've always been there; I always will be. And I know your heart."
Then the words from John 14:27 filled the air:
I am leaving you with a gift,peace of mind and heart.And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give.So don't be troubled or afraid. ~New Living Translation
The light faded, leaving me in the dark, yet still brimming with hope. THAT was the end of my dream.
I've only had a handful of life-changing dreams in my life, but this was definitely one of them. And although I know it might not speak to everyone, it spoke to me. I hope it'll bless someone else's life as much as it's helped me see things in a different perspective.
Yeah, life can suck, but God's love will get me through.
February 21, 2014
Two Choices: A Soulmate or Money
This is a continuation from yesterday. If you'd like to read the beginning, please go
HERE
.
Now, to the second part of my dream. . . .
I gaped behind glass, looking into an interrogation room. You were there, standing all rugged and dirty, just like when you used to get home from work. I could almost smell the dirt through the glass, that scent reminding me of sweat and skin. Your beard set a fire in my heart and I longed to see your surreal eyes gazing into mine even if for only a moment.
Two doors stood in front of you. They each had big signs hanging on them. The sign on the first door said: "LOVE (Your life with your soulmate)."
The second door said, "MONEY."
I knew then you'd been given the same choice I'd been faced with earlier. You could only pick one--have one or the other, no regrets . . . Money or me. My hand pressed against the glass that held the two of us apart. I looked at my thumb; even that reminded me of you, how both of us broke that same thumb and had a identically old scar between our thumb and index fingers. How we had so many things in common. Maybe that was another reason I'd picked a life with you over an eternity in Heaven. Our love meant that much to me, honestly.
But . . . what would you choose?
You walked up to the first door (LOVE) and touched the knob. I saw the memories at the same time that they flooded your mind's eye . . .
You held me in your arms in the back of my van and told me you'd always love me, always dreamed of a girl just like me.
You smiled at me as we ran through a golf course at night, ducks quacking at us from the edge of the course's pond.
We laughed, hiding side-by-side in a schooner at a restaurant's parking lot. Then hushed as a man passed, walking his dog. As soon as the coast was clear, we busted with laughter again--I still wonder if he saw us!
Country songs blared from your truck as you sang to me, holding my hand, telling me all the lyrics reminded you of "us" and our love.
Memory after memory flooded over you and me, at the same time and I couldn't help feeling hopeful. We were so damn connected, not even the glass could keep our minds from touching through those memories of the past. You would choose me, right; who would give that kind of chemistry and "kindred-ness" up?
But then you let go of the knob . . . and the memories stopped. You dusted off your pants and turned your back to the same door that meant more to me than eternal salvation.
Tears filled my eyes and I bit my lip. Somehow I knew you--I'd always known you and what your final choice would be--like we'd lived this exact moment a million times.
I took my hand from the glass.
Maybe . . . I'd never see those slate eyes looking tenderly at me again.
I'd never feel your thick hands around my tiny waist.
I'd never smell your sweat mixed with dirt and liquor . . . never again.
That's when you went to your second damn choice--MONEY.
You didn't even wait for a moment . . . killing me with every movement, just reaching out and twisting that damn knob. I felt like you murdered a part of me and no one even showed up to the funeral.
But even as your actions siphoned my breath, I couldn't help watching you, so handsome and determined, as you walked through to your true love.
Instead of picking me and everything we'd shared, you chose wealth, and I thought, Why am I so surprised?
You shut the door, a smile of greed and satisfaction still on your face, and I melted to the floor.
~~~ "Oh, God," I cried out in my dream. "Oh, God. I feel so betrayed. I traded eternity . . . for him. I traded eternity . . . for nothing."
At that moment a hot breeze barreled through the room. My eyes remained shut, and I shook on the ground.
"You . . . feel betrayed?" a voice, more commanding than the ocean, boomed. "YOU feel betrayed? How do you think I feel? YOU traded an eternity in Heaven, for a mortal man!"
I quivered again. My eyes were still closed, but something was shining even through my lids. Then I quelled my own sobbing, gritted my teeth and gazed up, trying not to seem afraid.
A figure stood there, glowing brighter than the sun. I slammed my eyes shut again and the glow brightened so that his presence still blinded me!
"Yes!" I yelled, even though I should have stayed quiet. "I feel betrayed because I WAS betrayed! What's it to YOU?"
To be continued with the final installment tomorrow. . . .
Now, to the second part of my dream. . . .
I gaped behind glass, looking into an interrogation room. You were there, standing all rugged and dirty, just like when you used to get home from work. I could almost smell the dirt through the glass, that scent reminding me of sweat and skin. Your beard set a fire in my heart and I longed to see your surreal eyes gazing into mine even if for only a moment.
Two doors stood in front of you. They each had big signs hanging on them. The sign on the first door said: "LOVE (Your life with your soulmate)."
The second door said, "MONEY."
I knew then you'd been given the same choice I'd been faced with earlier. You could only pick one--have one or the other, no regrets . . . Money or me. My hand pressed against the glass that held the two of us apart. I looked at my thumb; even that reminded me of you, how both of us broke that same thumb and had a identically old scar between our thumb and index fingers. How we had so many things in common. Maybe that was another reason I'd picked a life with you over an eternity in Heaven. Our love meant that much to me, honestly.
But . . . what would you choose?
You walked up to the first door (LOVE) and touched the knob. I saw the memories at the same time that they flooded your mind's eye . . .
You held me in your arms in the back of my van and told me you'd always love me, always dreamed of a girl just like me.
You smiled at me as we ran through a golf course at night, ducks quacking at us from the edge of the course's pond.
We laughed, hiding side-by-side in a schooner at a restaurant's parking lot. Then hushed as a man passed, walking his dog. As soon as the coast was clear, we busted with laughter again--I still wonder if he saw us!
Country songs blared from your truck as you sang to me, holding my hand, telling me all the lyrics reminded you of "us" and our love.
Memory after memory flooded over you and me, at the same time and I couldn't help feeling hopeful. We were so damn connected, not even the glass could keep our minds from touching through those memories of the past. You would choose me, right; who would give that kind of chemistry and "kindred-ness" up?
But then you let go of the knob . . . and the memories stopped. You dusted off your pants and turned your back to the same door that meant more to me than eternal salvation.
Tears filled my eyes and I bit my lip. Somehow I knew you--I'd always known you and what your final choice would be--like we'd lived this exact moment a million times.
I took my hand from the glass.
Maybe . . . I'd never see those slate eyes looking tenderly at me again.
I'd never feel your thick hands around my tiny waist.
I'd never smell your sweat mixed with dirt and liquor . . . never again.
That's when you went to your second damn choice--MONEY.
You didn't even wait for a moment . . . killing me with every movement, just reaching out and twisting that damn knob. I felt like you murdered a part of me and no one even showed up to the funeral.
But even as your actions siphoned my breath, I couldn't help watching you, so handsome and determined, as you walked through to your true love.
Instead of picking me and everything we'd shared, you chose wealth, and I thought, Why am I so surprised?
You shut the door, a smile of greed and satisfaction still on your face, and I melted to the floor.
~~~ "Oh, God," I cried out in my dream. "Oh, God. I feel so betrayed. I traded eternity . . . for him. I traded eternity . . . for nothing."
At that moment a hot breeze barreled through the room. My eyes remained shut, and I shook on the ground.
"You . . . feel betrayed?" a voice, more commanding than the ocean, boomed. "YOU feel betrayed? How do you think I feel? YOU traded an eternity in Heaven, for a mortal man!"
I quivered again. My eyes were still closed, but something was shining even through my lids. Then I quelled my own sobbing, gritted my teeth and gazed up, trying not to seem afraid.
A figure stood there, glowing brighter than the sun. I slammed my eyes shut again and the glow brightened so that his presence still blinded me!
"Yes!" I yelled, even though I should have stayed quiet. "I feel betrayed because I WAS betrayed! What's it to YOU?"
To be continued with the final installment tomorrow. . . .
February 20, 2014
Two Choices: A Soulmate or Eternal Salvation
Remember how I have symbolic dreams? Well, I had one about you two weeks ago. And I can't get the damn thing outta my head, so I'm gonna air more dirty laundry here, for an online community to paw over and see, just so I can heal.
Here goes . . .
I'm walking the streets of New York, which is amazing, because I've always wanted to go there. People stand, so crowded--all different walks of life smashed together just to get someplace that's momentarily important.
When suddenly, there's this big blond guy standing next to me. He's head-and-shoulders taller than anyone else and extremely handsome, reminding me of Saul in the Bible.
So this huge guy, whisks me out of the crowd and pulls me into a massive, mirrored business building. After a second I'm standing in an elevator with "Saul." The mellow music and carpeted walls do anything but calm me. Then Saul tells me that he's an angel, and that God picked me special, giving me a choice, wanting me to know what type of person I really am.
I shake my head and laugh. "You're a big dude, but an angel? Seriously? And you're saying God is going to test me? I already know what type of person I am."
"Do you! You've been through a lot, Elisa, but one can always learn something new, especially after seeing how one reacts to different situations."
His words hang eerily in the air, and I have to admit that chills etch my spine as we walk into the hallway beyond the elevator. After that, Saul pulls out the key to an executive suite. I gasp while entering the suite 'cause it's gorgeous beyond anything. Fresh fruit and flowers scent the front room, near chocolates and candles. But surprisingly the only furniture in sight is a mahogany table and a tan leather couch.
Saul maintains his no-nonsense attitude and points to the back of the room. "You see those two doors? They represent your choice."
"Yeah, I see them," I say, a bit shakily. They're strange doors, especially to be in an executive suite.
"If you go through the one on the left, you can be with the man you believe is your soulmate--you'll be with him through this life IF he chooses you as well. Walk through the door on the right, and you can go to Heaven when you die."
"What?! My soulmate . . . or eternal salvation? What if I want both?"
"Only one or the other." Saul sits lazily on the leather couch, as if he does this for a damn living and could care less about my final choice. Then he polishes a red apple on his yellow button-up shirt. "Take my advice and touch each doorknob before making your decision. This is eternity we're talking about. Nothing to take lightly."
I wait for a moment, thinking he'll leave. Instead he just starts eating that damn apple, juices running into his perfect goatee, the apple looking miniscule in his large hands.
So I walk to the back of the room. "Left, love. Right, Heaven," I whisper. Then almost before I can think about it, I hold my hand to the left door and touch the knob just as Saul instructed.
My eyes close and memories of a forbidden love fill my head.
I saw myself texting you some stupid message, it said, "Who cares what you'll think of me in the morning! When ya coming over, asshole?" What followed that text, I'll never forget.
Then visions of us hiking in the mountains, you shushing me 'cause we were hunting "deer." But when you turned and kissed me, I swear I knew what you'd been hunting all along.
I saw us jumping the fence at an amusement park, 'cause the damn place was closed. Then we ran Mission Impossible-style and hid near the lions' cages not too far from the picnic area, but just far enough the guards couldn't see us holding each other for hours.
I remembered being on a lil' boat in the ocean, with only each other and a thin blanket to keep us warm as the Golden Gate Bridge's lights twinkled above us and in the waters around.
I remembered all that, and I instantly didn't give a damn about Heaven, or the consequences that could follow. My eyes flung open, studying the doors as I shunned the choice Saul had given me, 'cause it really wasn't a hard choice, for me. . . .
I would've done anything for you--for our love.
So I opened the door--on the left--but when I went through to what should have been our perfect life together on Earth, I was shocked.
You were there, but you couldn't see me, and a choice awaited you as well. What in the hell would you choose?
To be continued tomorrow. . . .
Here goes . . .
I'm walking the streets of New York, which is amazing, because I've always wanted to go there. People stand, so crowded--all different walks of life smashed together just to get someplace that's momentarily important.
When suddenly, there's this big blond guy standing next to me. He's head-and-shoulders taller than anyone else and extremely handsome, reminding me of Saul in the Bible.
So this huge guy, whisks me out of the crowd and pulls me into a massive, mirrored business building. After a second I'm standing in an elevator with "Saul." The mellow music and carpeted walls do anything but calm me. Then Saul tells me that he's an angel, and that God picked me special, giving me a choice, wanting me to know what type of person I really am.
I shake my head and laugh. "You're a big dude, but an angel? Seriously? And you're saying God is going to test me? I already know what type of person I am."
"Do you! You've been through a lot, Elisa, but one can always learn something new, especially after seeing how one reacts to different situations."
His words hang eerily in the air, and I have to admit that chills etch my spine as we walk into the hallway beyond the elevator. After that, Saul pulls out the key to an executive suite. I gasp while entering the suite 'cause it's gorgeous beyond anything. Fresh fruit and flowers scent the front room, near chocolates and candles. But surprisingly the only furniture in sight is a mahogany table and a tan leather couch.
Saul maintains his no-nonsense attitude and points to the back of the room. "You see those two doors? They represent your choice."
"Yeah, I see them," I say, a bit shakily. They're strange doors, especially to be in an executive suite.
"If you go through the one on the left, you can be with the man you believe is your soulmate--you'll be with him through this life IF he chooses you as well. Walk through the door on the right, and you can go to Heaven when you die."
"What?! My soulmate . . . or eternal salvation? What if I want both?"
"Only one or the other." Saul sits lazily on the leather couch, as if he does this for a damn living and could care less about my final choice. Then he polishes a red apple on his yellow button-up shirt. "Take my advice and touch each doorknob before making your decision. This is eternity we're talking about. Nothing to take lightly."
I wait for a moment, thinking he'll leave. Instead he just starts eating that damn apple, juices running into his perfect goatee, the apple looking miniscule in his large hands.
So I walk to the back of the room. "Left, love. Right, Heaven," I whisper. Then almost before I can think about it, I hold my hand to the left door and touch the knob just as Saul instructed.
My eyes close and memories of a forbidden love fill my head.
I saw myself texting you some stupid message, it said, "Who cares what you'll think of me in the morning! When ya coming over, asshole?" What followed that text, I'll never forget.
Then visions of us hiking in the mountains, you shushing me 'cause we were hunting "deer." But when you turned and kissed me, I swear I knew what you'd been hunting all along.
I saw us jumping the fence at an amusement park, 'cause the damn place was closed. Then we ran Mission Impossible-style and hid near the lions' cages not too far from the picnic area, but just far enough the guards couldn't see us holding each other for hours.
I remembered being on a lil' boat in the ocean, with only each other and a thin blanket to keep us warm as the Golden Gate Bridge's lights twinkled above us and in the waters around.
I remembered all that, and I instantly didn't give a damn about Heaven, or the consequences that could follow. My eyes flung open, studying the doors as I shunned the choice Saul had given me, 'cause it really wasn't a hard choice, for me. . . .
I would've done anything for you--for our love.
So I opened the door--on the left--but when I went through to what should have been our perfect life together on Earth, I was shocked.
You were there, but you couldn't see me, and a choice awaited you as well. What in the hell would you choose?
To be continued tomorrow. . . .
February 19, 2014
At the end of my rope...
I was at the end of my marital rope, needing good, solid advice. So I went to my closest friend and said, "My marriage isn't what it used to be. Things have changed. I'm not sure what's going on, but we need help. Have you ever gone through something like this?"
My dear, sweet friend, who always dressed at the height of fashion and always seemed so put together, refused to step down from her pedestal as she replied, "How strange . . . I've been married longer than you have, and we've never had any marital problems. Never even fought. Too bad you didn't marry someone like my husband."
I got off the phone and cried. Maybe I was a loser. Maybe I should stop being so transparent because then other people can't take me down at any time. Maybe I should just toughen up?
Need an example of my idiotic transparency? Go here: Love Sucks a Big, Hairy Eyeball
But today I realized something quite ironic. See, my divorce became official the day before Thanksgiving. At least I've been honest enough that most people understood why Cade and I could no longer be together.
Well, yesterday, this friend came to my house and told me she'd just gotten divorced too. I was shocked. "But I thought everything was perfect," I said.
"I wanted it to seem that way because things were so bad." She broke down and started crying. "I needed to tell you. But I also wanted to apologize. Remember when you called me, needing relationship advice?"
I nodded.
"Instead of telling the truth, I made my life seem perfect. . . . Elisa, I'm so sorry. He was having multiple affairs, gambling . . . No one knew and I was so embarrassed. Why would he spend the money our kids needed? Why would he have affairs--wasn't I good enough? And you--no matter what shit you're going through--you tell everyone all the good and bad like it's no big deal. I could never be like that and it made me want to take you down a notch. You don't wear the cutest clothes. You let your skeletons out of your closet . . . you do these things that bug me! But at the same time . . . they inspire me."
Tears flooded my eyes as she said the words.
"So I came over here to tell you," she continued, "I'm sorry and that my marriage wasn't perfect. No one's marriage is. And somehow you're the only person I can talk to because you'll understand and you'll tell me what you've been through too. And that transparency, it helps everyone around you realize they aren't alone. . . . So, do you hate me?"
I hugged her then, this huge hug. And. She. Hugged. Me. Back. Because in that moment--after years and years--we finally became true friends.
The moment reminded me of a saying I heard recently: girls tear each other down; women build each other up.
"Sometimes life is shit," I said. "But I'll always be here. Now sit your ass down and let's have some ice cream."
I scooped us bowls overflowing with mint chocolate chip goodness because she was having a hard time and it seemed like a great excuse for me to binge too.
And the point of this story is that we're all different. But everything will come out into the light someday. Maybe my approach to life isn't too bad after all. I'd rather tell the truth, showing the good and bad, rather than pretending everything is perfect when it's not. After this experience, I've decided that people who hide their imperfections are either just insecure, or trying to bring other people down.
How do you approach life's problems? Would you rather ignore them, or face them head-on? What have your results been like?
Also, how do you think she should have handled my initial question when I was crying out for relationship advice?
My dear, sweet friend, who always dressed at the height of fashion and always seemed so put together, refused to step down from her pedestal as she replied, "How strange . . . I've been married longer than you have, and we've never had any marital problems. Never even fought. Too bad you didn't marry someone like my husband."I got off the phone and cried. Maybe I was a loser. Maybe I should stop being so transparent because then other people can't take me down at any time. Maybe I should just toughen up?
Need an example of my idiotic transparency? Go here: Love Sucks a Big, Hairy Eyeball
But today I realized something quite ironic. See, my divorce became official the day before Thanksgiving. At least I've been honest enough that most people understood why Cade and I could no longer be together.
Well, yesterday, this friend came to my house and told me she'd just gotten divorced too. I was shocked. "But I thought everything was perfect," I said.
"I wanted it to seem that way because things were so bad." She broke down and started crying. "I needed to tell you. But I also wanted to apologize. Remember when you called me, needing relationship advice?"
I nodded.
"Instead of telling the truth, I made my life seem perfect. . . . Elisa, I'm so sorry. He was having multiple affairs, gambling . . . No one knew and I was so embarrassed. Why would he spend the money our kids needed? Why would he have affairs--wasn't I good enough? And you--no matter what shit you're going through--you tell everyone all the good and bad like it's no big deal. I could never be like that and it made me want to take you down a notch. You don't wear the cutest clothes. You let your skeletons out of your closet . . . you do these things that bug me! But at the same time . . . they inspire me."
Tears flooded my eyes as she said the words.
"So I came over here to tell you," she continued, "I'm sorry and that my marriage wasn't perfect. No one's marriage is. And somehow you're the only person I can talk to because you'll understand and you'll tell me what you've been through too. And that transparency, it helps everyone around you realize they aren't alone. . . . So, do you hate me?"
I hugged her then, this huge hug. And. She. Hugged. Me. Back. Because in that moment--after years and years--we finally became true friends.
The moment reminded me of a saying I heard recently: girls tear each other down; women build each other up.
"Sometimes life is shit," I said. "But I'll always be here. Now sit your ass down and let's have some ice cream."
I scooped us bowls overflowing with mint chocolate chip goodness because she was having a hard time and it seemed like a great excuse for me to binge too.
And the point of this story is that we're all different. But everything will come out into the light someday. Maybe my approach to life isn't too bad after all. I'd rather tell the truth, showing the good and bad, rather than pretending everything is perfect when it's not. After this experience, I've decided that people who hide their imperfections are either just insecure, or trying to bring other people down.
How do you approach life's problems? Would you rather ignore them, or face them head-on? What have your results been like?
Also, how do you think she should have handled my initial question when I was crying out for relationship advice?
February 17, 2014
Something Worth Believing In--Plus Enter to win a $50 gift certificate
Novica, a company that lives by the mantra to "Spread Happiness," really lives up to their motto. They promote global artisans, while still making products that really will amaze buyers!
I recently had the opportunity to review one of their products, and I'm absolutely thrilled.
Here's the sweater they sent to me:
Not only was I impressed with the quality (which says a lot since I'm a seamstress), but I was also inspired by the design and comfort of the product.
I wore this to church yesterday and was floored with how many people complimented me on my clothes.
Anyway, I wasn't paid to give this review, just asked to give my honest feedback after receiving the product. And (drum roll please) I absolutely LOVE it! If you'd like to check out Novica, or enter to win a $50.00 gift certificate to their store, please enter the rafflecopter below.
Click HERE to visit the Novica website yourself.
Additional links that might interest you at their site:
Brown BeltsIndian Cashmere Wool Shawls
Long SkirtBatik Sarong
Women's Clothing from Peru Black Tops
a Rafflecopter giveaway
I recently had the opportunity to review one of their products, and I'm absolutely thrilled.
Here's the sweater they sent to me:
Not only was I impressed with the quality (which says a lot since I'm a seamstress), but I was also inspired by the design and comfort of the product.
I wore this to church yesterday and was floored with how many people complimented me on my clothes.
Anyway, I wasn't paid to give this review, just asked to give my honest feedback after receiving the product. And (drum roll please) I absolutely LOVE it! If you'd like to check out Novica, or enter to win a $50.00 gift certificate to their store, please enter the rafflecopter below.
Click HERE to visit the Novica website yourself.
Additional links that might interest you at their site:
Brown BeltsIndian Cashmere Wool Shawls
Long SkirtBatik Sarong
Women's Clothing from Peru Black Tops
a Rafflecopter giveaway
January 9, 2014
What Makes Us Who We Are: 1 Bad Choice
To tell you the truth, I was terrified.
I went into his room and he asked, “Are you ready to do this?”
I cinched my eyes to block the tears. I wasn’t ready. There was no way in hell I was ready. But I became an actress on Broadway, acting like things were okay, pretending and smiling even though nothing was all right. Nothing!
I was seventeen, I’d just taken my vows, and now I was supposed to have sex.
“Are you gonna take off your pants, or do you want me to do it for you?” he joked, but it wasn’t funny to me. I stared blankly. I had been an idiot.
“So?” He put his arms around me.
I still wasn’t ready. I wanted to run back to the canyon where he’d spun me in the snow and professed his love.
I heard his best friend outside the room, talking about amazing wedding nights and how the deed must be done. Didn’t guys ever talk about anything else? The whole thing felt off.
But maybe I was wrong. . . .
So I rested on the bed. . . .
We started doing the deed, but I couldn't remain calm.
Moments passed and I quietly cried.
“I can’t!” I finally sobbed, jumped up and pulled my pants on. So many things cluttered my mind. I didn’t register his confusion or what he did as I left. “I can’t do this,” I said again, to myself. “I just can’t.”
Sex had lasted for a short moment. But still, I was no longer a virgin—seconds had ruined it all.
I burst from the room, my hair wild and my makeup smeared with tears. His friend saw me and started clapping. They were big, resounding claps that killed my ears. “Good job. Way to consummate the marriage.”
Before this, I'd thought I was special. Instead, maybe I was just some stupid girl who’d lost her virginity in a gamble with fate. I ran from the apartment, and hoped I’d find a way home as I cried. I didn’t know if he really loved me. How could he when I didn’t even love myself?
Looking back, it's crazy how one choice sent my life spiraling in a totally different direction.
To read about this writing exercise, please visit my previous post:
Part 1
I went into his room and he asked, “Are you ready to do this?”
I cinched my eyes to block the tears. I wasn’t ready. There was no way in hell I was ready. But I became an actress on Broadway, acting like things were okay, pretending and smiling even though nothing was all right. Nothing!
I was seventeen, I’d just taken my vows, and now I was supposed to have sex.
“Are you gonna take off your pants, or do you want me to do it for you?” he joked, but it wasn’t funny to me. I stared blankly. I had been an idiot.
“So?” He put his arms around me.
I still wasn’t ready. I wanted to run back to the canyon where he’d spun me in the snow and professed his love.
I heard his best friend outside the room, talking about amazing wedding nights and how the deed must be done. Didn’t guys ever talk about anything else? The whole thing felt off.
But maybe I was wrong. . . .
So I rested on the bed. . . .
We started doing the deed, but I couldn't remain calm.
Moments passed and I quietly cried.
“I can’t!” I finally sobbed, jumped up and pulled my pants on. So many things cluttered my mind. I didn’t register his confusion or what he did as I left. “I can’t do this,” I said again, to myself. “I just can’t.”
Sex had lasted for a short moment. But still, I was no longer a virgin—seconds had ruined it all.
I burst from the room, my hair wild and my makeup smeared with tears. His friend saw me and started clapping. They were big, resounding claps that killed my ears. “Good job. Way to consummate the marriage.”
Before this, I'd thought I was special. Instead, maybe I was just some stupid girl who’d lost her virginity in a gamble with fate. I ran from the apartment, and hoped I’d find a way home as I cried. I didn’t know if he really loved me. How could he when I didn’t even love myself?
Looking back, it's crazy how one choice sent my life spiraling in a totally different direction.
To read about this writing exercise, please visit my previous post:
Part 1
