Tag: strength

A sleepy ramble…

Jen3 Comments

dreams

Morning everyone.  I’m tired today.  Woke up with lingering images still in my head.  Remnants of a dream world that I didn’t want to leave.  Most of the time, my dreams are nightmares, the kind that leave you shaken and paranoid to fall back asleep.  But every so often, I’ll have a good night where my dreams are filled with hope and love and safety and .. in the case of last night – the most incredible, hottest sex ever.  🙂  Hence my not wanting to awake and join the real world.  It’s rare that I get lost in such a positive dream world.

I have made an interesting discovery.  Normally – this time of year is the worst for me.  Having lost Ben at Thanksgiving, this time of year is usually filled with both christmas cheer and a sadness that he’s not here to enjoy it with me and the kids.  I do my best tho, to make the holiday be magical for my children, and hide from them my general state of melancholy.  This year, at least so far, has been different.  I still think of Ben every day.  I touch a picture I have of him on my desk at work and say good morning to him every day.  But this year, I’m not sad.  Ok maybe a little, but it’s different this year.  I think he’d be proud of me…despite the fact that I didn’t stay with his father.
Because of some really good friends, my thanksgiving was filled with joy and hope and not my usual sadness.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for a friend and I can honestly say, it’s been a very long time since I’ve had this kind of hope but I have a shit ton of baggage.  I’m this strange combination of confidence and insecurity.  I don’t know that I’d say I’m broken – but in a lot of ways that’s probably an accurate description.  My previous life left a path of damage not unlike what’s left behind a tornado’s path.  I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing.  And coming from me, that’s quite a statement.  I’m so scared to mess it up, to scare people away.  I’m scared that all my instincts are off.  I’m scared that people won’t see me.  And I mean, really SEE me.  I’ve done a lot of self discovery in the last year. I like who I am…even if I am still a little messed up.

Things I’ve discovered about myself that I didn’t know…as sad as some if it might be:

  1. My inner strength and how strong I am
  2. I am a DAMN good mom. 🙂 My kids are happy.  I mean down and out sincerely happy.
  3. I am a sexual creature – who knew!?  Amazing what happens when you’re no longer with someone who has no sex drive or appreciation for a woman who wants to please her man.
  4. Not only am I sexual – but I’m damn sexy! You know how I know?  I had some boudoir photography done.  For someone as insecure as I am, this is HUGE.  And I can honestly say it was one of the BEST experiences I’ve ever had.  I needed to prove to myself after leaving my ex that I was sexy, and sultry and not an unwanted troll.  HOLY COW can we say mission accomplished?    I will also be the advocate for ANY and ALL women to do this for themselves.  Doesn’t matter your age or weight – DO IT.

    I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to share any of them… as personally – this is something I would normally keep private.  But I wanted to prove that I did indeed do this.  So here is one of the safer ones I will share.
  5. I don’t always want to be in control.  In fact, there are a lot of times when I don’t want to be in control at all. Being a parent and a leader at work means I’m the boss – a lot.  I don’t want to be the boss at home.  I think this is why the idea of finding a real MAN appeals to me so much.
  6. Communication and blunt honesty is SO much better than stuffing it down and being polite.  Yea, you might upset a few people every now and then, but in the long run, honest communication trumps all.
  7. I am smart.  I made a goal for myself a year ago that I wanted to have 30 patents (with my name as an inventor) by the time I hit 40.  I’m WELL on my way…with 5 now officially under my belt. 🙂

Hmm this list could get a lot longer – but we’ll leave it there for the time being.  Happy Tuesday everyone!

A new found weakness

Jen8 Comments

Words.  Communication.  Human interaction.  Relationships.  These are things I think about.  For work, to navigate my way as a parent.  Even as a woman.  I crave these things.  I explore and study these things.  I seek to improve these things.  It is through these things that I find solace and comfort, where I find happiness and truth and passion, and where I’ve also found pain and vulnerability and loss.

I never read the book about 5 love languages.  I skimmed it when a friend loaned it to me, and I’ve had enough people talk to me about it that I feel I understand the basic premise.  And overall, I think it’s pretty interesting.  I believe I need a combination of 2, maybe 3 of the love languages in order to feel satisfied.  But here comes my question.  Does a person’s love language also become their weakness?  I know that words are something that speaks to me, that regular communication at a deeper, more personal level will spur me to form a deeper level of attachment to someone.  To me it seems that getting to know someone is wrought with mine fields in this area.  Especially in today’s day and age where technology leads us to do so much communication via writing.  Part of me says, then you avoid it.  At least at first.  That way, the attachment forms slowly.  But then you also run the risk of never having that form of love language in your life later down the road.  My ex’s never read books or wrote to me.  They just weren’t wired that way.  I know now that I am, but if I find someone who is wired to speak my languages – how do I protect myself from falling too fast when they use their words on me?  How do I protect myself from being manipulated or hurt by someone who figures out that words mean so much?

To me, it seems a love language, while good, can also be a weak point.  That when exploited, could lead to disastrous results.

Definitely curious to other’s thoughts on this.  Thanks for reading my ramble. 🙂

Quit complicating Love

Jen7 Comments

shoes

According to the webster dictionary, there are eight definitions for the word “Love”.  Eight!

love   noun \ˈləv\

: a feeling of strong or constant affection for a person
: attraction that includes sexual desire : the strong affection felt by people who have a romantic relationship
: a person you love in a romantic way

Full Definition of LOVE

1 a (1) :  strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties <maternal love for a child> (2) :  attraction based on sexual desire :  affection and tenderness felt by lovers
 :  affection based on admiration, or common interests <love for his old schoolmates>b :  an assurance of affection <give her my love>
2:  warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion <love of the sea>
3a :  the object of attachment, devotion, or admiration <baseball was his first love>b (1) :  a beloved person : darling —often used as a term of endearment (2) British —used as an informal term of address
4a :  unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another: as (1) :  the fatherly concern of God for humankind (2) :  brotherly concern for othersb :  a person’s adoration of God
5:  a god or personification of love
6:  an amourous episode :  love affair
7:  the sexual embrace :  copulation
8:  a score of zero (as in tennis)
Why so many?  Love as a word is both overused and underused in today’s society.  Why is it acceptable and even easier to say “I love ice cream and rock music” than it is to tell someone you love them?  Of course, there’s also the opposite of that – where people feel the need to share their “love” when it’s actually something more closely related to lust.
A friend told me a story last night.  The story of the first time he and his current SO said “I love you” to each other.  A week into their relationship, they knew how they felt and felt rock solid in sharing with each other.  I was enchanted by this unabashed, unafraid sharing of emotions, and shared my adoration of their relationship to my friend.
That’s just it – sharing emotions.  Why is it that sharing an emotion with someone is so difficult, especially if that emotion is something other than happiness?  Is it the mask we put on?  We are all human.  We cry, we get angry, we dream and have insecurities, we get distracted and even occasionally become our own version of a space cadet.  Knowing that we all do it – why do we have such a hard time sharing that with others who, ultimately, are likely feeling the exact same things we are!
Men seem to have this problem a bit more than women.  There’s this old fashioned stigma that men are supposed to be strong.  That they aren’t supposed to be gushing their feelings and thoughts.  What utter bullshit.  Strength to me isn’t the ability to hide your emotions from others.  It’s having those emotions and still moving forward, in spite of them.  It’s having the courage to say what you feel, when you feel it and owning it for what it is.  I think I get caught in a trap of my own making when it comes to this type of thing.  Always trying to be strong, always hiding what I’m really thinking or feeling because I don’t want to upset or hurt someone.  I’ll keep my feelings to myself at my expense if it means I can ensure the folks I’m around are happy and moving forward.  If there was a definition of a human doormat in the dictionary, I swear, it would have my picture.
Today I am going to strive to tell it how it is, when it is.  🙂  I’m not going to fear rejection or humiliation.  I’m going to live in each moment, own the emotions I feel and find strength in sharing them with others.  Wish me luck.  🙂  Perhaps there’s still a chance for me to no longer be the doormat I’ve always been.

Lessons in Strength

JenLeave a comment

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Who taught you to be strong?  I’d bet my next wage that it’s a mix of people who have touched your lives, personally, professionally, even from afar.  Life hands you tests over time, stress, drama, tragedy, happiness… all of it builds character and all of it shapes who we are and who we become.

When I was a girl, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.  A LOT of time.  In many ways, they raised me.  They taught me that our family comes from a distinct heritage.  A line of people who are and were known for their strength of conviction and strength of character.  It’s a matter of pride in our family.  Our strength.  Not physically, but mentally and emotionally.  Nothing is impossible.  Nothing.  If something seems impossible – it’s just because you haven’t found the right solution or the right approach yet.  This led me to be the woman I am today; and those close to me will vouch for my stubbornness.  For my drive to push the envelope and not only succeed for myself, but to push others to succeed.  Knowledge and personal growth are two things I value to the nth degree.

I have been given many of these “tests” over my lifetime.  And no doubt, will face many more to come still.  Health problems, divorce, severe depression, loss of a child, being a step parent, work challenges, addiction (both personally and from an outsider’s perspective), financial stress, bankruptcy, being a parent… I could go on and on.  And when I look back at all I’ve faced, I’m proud of where I am today.   This is a good thing – and one I hope to still be able to say in another 20 years time.

When I was 19, I was a bank manager.  Most of my employees were in their 30’s and 40’s.  Yea – it was a professional challenge to manage people when they are so much older than you, but we had a great team.  There was a woman who worked for me, who gave me my first taste (outside of family) of real strength.  She had 3 children and her husband worked in the military.  She acted as a single parent most of the year, as he was away on active duty.  One afternoon, a phone call to the branch shook her entire world.  Her sister called and informed me that she needed to come home right away.  That her son had accidentally shot and killed her younger son.  He had been trying to clean and care for Dad’s things – they missed him.  I’m not about to get into the whole debate on gun control or how to keep guns safe … that’s for another blog and another story.  The point was that suddenly her world got shoved upsidown.  She took a week off work to get things sorted.  And when she came back – we all tip toed around her; fearful that we’d upset her and she’d be a blubbering mess that we wouldn’t know how to help or handle.  She sat everyone down and shared her story.  Of what she found the day she got called home early.  the mess she had to clean up.  The horror of it all.  And then an older couple walked in to do their weekly banking and she got up and smiled and chatted with them about their grandchildren and the weather.  Like nothing.  Grief has many stages – denial being one of them – and yes – likely she was in one of these states – but she handled it.  Beautifully.  Sure, there was still pain in her eyes.  She was still broken and trying to figure out how to breathe again.  But she handled it.  Forward motion.  And with that – she earned my undying respect.

Recently tho, I’ve experienced a bit of a shake up.  Someone who was PARAMOUNT to me learning my strength and conviction finally, after 30 years, showed me their weakness.  Weakness is a good thing – don’t get me wrong.  We all have weaknesses.  But to see someone who you’ve always viewed as being a golliath as far as mental/emotional strength – seeing them give up and lose it.  It really shakes you to your core.  She’s old, and sick and frail.  Physical strength has never been a factor for me, health problems can take over you body but that doesn’t mean you’re not strong.  If anything, how you face that kind of test can show you exactly the opposite if you look.  But now, to see my mentor, my guide, giving up on life; it has really, well and truly rocked my boat.

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The other thing I find fascinating is that I’m being given yet another life test around pre-death grief.  I don’t know if that’s a term or not, but i’ll use it.  We knew our son was going to pass many months before it actually happened.  This allowed us to start mourning and grieving before the actual event.  And in some ways, I’m doing it again now.  What’s ironic, is that pre-death grieving is a bunch of painful grief you go through, and then somehow you end up going through it all over again once the “event” actually happens, but on an even more painful scale.  Makes me question why go through it if you’re just going to go through it again – but that’s just part of being human and loving people I suppose.

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