Be Careful With My Heart

Be careful with my heart
For it's tattered and torn
Been ripped into many pieces
And those pieces are thread-worn

I know I have been careless
And gave my heart away
And now my heart lays on the floor
And I'm filled with much dismay

I never think before I love
I've never thought I should
I know to love it is a risk
And does a heart no good

Beware you give your heart
It may be broke in two
The hands that hold your heart in halves
Belong to one untrue

But unused and unbroken
Your heart will never beat
So chance to love you must take now
Because life with love's replete

6 am thought dumping on a Friday morning the month you turn 37.

A corner of the world where I can lay my thoughts down end to end and see if they make any sense. A place where if I close my eyes hard enough and wish long enough, when I open my eyes the world around me is a reflection of my perception of life. A place where there are no walls and the echoes of my story can go on forever.

Doesn't matter, because as of late I am that cartoon character that opens her mouth and nothing comes out. Like in Beetlejuice, I keep attempting to form words but before I can get them out, a zipper is slapped on my mouth.

It's okay. There is nothing in there anyway. No sound. Just air. Just silence.

The thoughts stay cooking in my brain: maybe I'm too broken. God could not have intended me to be this way. I have too much hope-ironically, a hopeless hoper. I am accepting too much difficulty-my happiness is a fraud. My life is a fraud.

It's a horrible feeling to think your life is a mistake. MY life is a mistake. Surely, no higher power would create someone so bumbling in her decisions, surely I am a broken, surely this can't be the purpose of me. I have wasted all my best decisions on the wrong decision. I have wasted time. I have wasted love. I have wasted my self.

If I am a human becoming...what am I becoming? Am I allowing life to happen to me or am I making choices?

6 am thought dumping on a Friday morning the month you turn 37. Better done after breakfast at least, but perhaps less authentic.

I may not be perfect, but I am at least authentic. I am the person I can be. Know how to be. I am a lovable person.

On a night when you need it, look and you may find it

On a night when you need it, look and you may find it...

Tonight, I stumbled upon this... Mara Glatzel's blog post.

That led me to write. (Thank you, Mara!)

My truth in ten seconds...

I am broken. But my broken is okay. I am working at being better. And that is good. But I am lovable and wonderful right now. I deserve happiness. I deserve love. And I deserve to heal and mend as I can, in my time.

What I must learn?

Some things will be ultra painful..other breaks will take longer to heal. A broken femur, because of the size of the bone, would be the most painful bone to break. A toe or a rib, because of its location of the bone and almost impossibility to stabilize the area, may take longer or may be slower to heal because we cannot stabilize the two broken pieces to each other.

We put stress on our ribs and our toes. Our ribs and toes are in constant use. Our arms and our legs are not quite as delicate and have room for casts and, if needed, could have pins placed in them to stabilize the break. They have more density, more substance. More time to sit out of use...more time (and ROOM) to heal.

And so our hearts are as our ribs and toes. We hold in our hearts hope. And faith. And love. EVERY DAY we use our hearts. Every moment we have something in our heart's aspirations, our heart's desires, that is within our grasp...sometimes those things slip away. Sometimes, those things are fleeting and sometimes they stick around. Even after they hurt us. Or harm us. Or poke little holes into our dreams.

What falls through those holes is sometimes someTHING that was good to have slipped past us or through us or on to the next person. But sometimes those things are exactly what we need. And then we feel like bottomless cups. Because no matter how much we pour into our hearts, no matter how quickly we pour, no matter how quickly we try to patch those holes...what we need still slips away.

What bandage can we put on our hearts that will allow us to heal in time for the next use? Like our ribs, our toes, our hearts are in an awkward position in our bodies to be mended properly...our hearts, our souls, they are intangibles. They are melodically magical and magnificent because they are exactly what we imagine them to be and nothing at all ponderable at the same time. We chase our hearts with bandages and all the while forget the elusive and ethereal qualities of them.

Our dreams, our hopes, our faith, our love are as grand as they are because of the incorporeal nature our hearts.

Thank God for that, right? Because without that impalpable quality, who would ever love recklessly? Who would ever dream crazily? Who would ever hope indefinitely?

And while it may hurt in the moment, we know...

We are always human becomings. We are always becoming more us.

You are always coming closer to the truer you. I am becoming a better me.

And we must remember this. Tonight and every night.

AB

Day 7, Becoming a Human Project: Accountability, Evaluation and Reflection.

I am an educator. I have degrees and certificates that say so, so it must be.

As an educator, I realize that there is a need for accountability. For measurables. And for a system to rate those measurables.

Yes, in so many words I am talking about grades: A, B, C, D, F.

 Or if you have a touchy-feely school, for a performance rating scale such as this:

Level 5 : Exceptional 

Level 4 : Exceeds expectations

Level 3 : Meets expectations

Level 2: Improvement needed

Level 1 : Unsatisfactory

Or maybe, you like to think outside the box...how's THIS for an evaluation scale?

Well, I have decided I need to hold myself accountable to this blogosphere and to myself for my human becoming project.

Today, the risk of you having to read a post from me is SEVERE

How am I doing on the blogging? Well, I think we can all agree I am at a LEVEL 2: Improvement Needed.

And when it comes to becoming a human? The only thing saving me from a big fat F is that fact that I was BORN ONE.

Me...in the baby phase. 

And so I give myself a D.

The thing about the human becoming project? Is that I NEED it. And because I NEED it, I'm not quite where I need to be in the realm of being happy. 

Part of day 7 for me is reflection.

Because you want to know the truth?

I've lived here in California and it still doesn't feel like home. 

I miss my mom. I miss my dad. I miss my sisters. 

I miss the way I could jump on I294 and I could know exactly how to get anywhere in the Chicago area at any moment.

It only took about 52 minutes to get from my house to my mom's place.

My kids had cousins there.

I think I am happy. But then I think, what is happy for me?

Do I love my job enough to be happy here?

Do I move for all of the right reasons?

Am I staying for all of the wrong ones?

When will I stop feeling so lonely?

When will I stop feeling so guilty for bringing my kids here away from our family AND NOW MY HUSBAND???

Sometimes, I sit here and I just cry. Sometimes, I miss my life the way it was. I love my job, but I didn't hate my last position. I love that my kids are happy at school...but they weren't unhappy at their Illinois school.

This is hard. I thank God for my life the way it is today because it led me to my husband. I do believe he is the love of my life. But I can't afford a flight home to see my mom. My sister lost her doggie baby and I had to say sorry from here, not from a hug. My other sister graduated college and I wasn't there. My baby sister needs direction and mentoring and I'm here. My kids need their cousins and we're here. My husband needs to see his dad and we're here. My husband needs to see his kids, but we're here.

We're here. We're here. And I'm still BECOMING used to it.

Me

And so BECOMING begins...

You'd think since I was "Beginning" my work on myself, I might actually have some time to "begin."

You'd think I would ease in slowly, careful to be reflective, to study my past and to say, "Hey, Self... What should I focus on as I attempt to "become" a better human?"

Buuuuuuuuutttttt....

NO.

So, I woke up this morning. Much like every other morning, I wanted today to begin about five hours later... But, alas, it was 7:51 am and I needed to be at morning service by 9 am.

So, I got the kids ready (yes, the older kids got the younger kids ready). And we shuffled off to morning service for church. Today's service focused on not bearing false witness (the 9th commandment).

I thought not much of it. Yes, I could be better. Yes, I have omitted the truth or just withheld information in order to protect the not-so-innocent. But, all in all, I'm not such a bad person.

And I took the message for granted.

And today, while visiting my husband at work, I mistakenly grazed the vehicle next to me while trying to reposition my mammoth car in my parking space.

CRAP.

CRAPPITY-CRAP-CRAP-CRAP.

And, in my ultimate humiliation, I got out of my car and left the note that stated

"I grazed the side of your car. My name is _________ . Please call me at _________. I am really so very sorry. This happened at 3:15pm. I waited for you until 3:46 pm. I only left because I am here with my two four year olds and they are cold and tired. I will take care of any damages, and again, I am sorry."

And, thus begins my path as becoming a better human.

I hit a car.

I left a note.

I will let this go.

I will not blame myself. I will not remain angry with myself. I will not cause myself an ulcer over this. I will understand that accidents happen and that I remained a person of integrity in a situation that could have caused some individuals to uphold themselves with less integrity.

And, for today, I am okay with that.

Angel

365 Days of A Human Becoming (Project)

Ahhhh... life...

I have the man of my dreams. The job of my dreams. Happy and successful children. My health. A roof over my head.

Yet...I keep GETTING THINGS WRONG! I fight with my husband over dumb things. I screw up my money over poor planning. I yell at my kids. I could be a better friend to most people.

I feel like I am the person standing in front of the 1,000 piece puzzle. And I am cramming the corner piece right into the center of said puzzle.

WHY?

I can't figure it out. I am sure hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars on some sort of psycho-analyst-therapeutic-doctor could help me figure it out. But see earlier where I state the money issues? Well, yeah.

So, here I sit in front of my computer. I have all the ingredients from my 365 days of Intentional Happiness project...the will, the computer, the internet access...

I know. I am a smart ass.

What is a human becoming, you might ask? Well, years ago while I attended a Catholic (all girls!) high school, I learned many lessons...one of the best of which is that I am a human becoming (and not a human being).

A human being, using the ideas of grammar, insinuates that we are in a static state...that WHAT WE ARE MUST BE... or even more so, that what we are is what we are stuck being. That it just IS.  But, you can argue, that is wrong. It should be wrong. If we are broken, why must we accept that? If we have been hurt, why can't we outlive that pain? If we have been shattered into a million pieces emotionally by our last relationship...shouldn't we be able to grow, heal and move on to bigger and better things and people?

The answer has to be a resounding YES.

So, we must be human BECOMINGS. As in...whatever I am to be (the final step of our journey) I am on my way there...I am BECOMING that BEING.

I am using this premise...and the ideas of change, of 12 steps, of acceptance, of letting go, of healing and of planning (!) to BECOME this better human.

Hence...365 days of a HUMAN BECOMING project.

I will commit today. Day one. Admitting that I am BECOMING A BETTER HUMAN.

That is a powerful thing. Say it out loud. You have to have confidence. You have to truly know how unique and amazing you are to say that. If you don't believe it today, you sure as hell are going to believe it at the end of these 365 days.

I know I will.

Angel Bledsoe

You might have clicked delete, but it didn't go away

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about what I put out there on the internet. In terms of being "personal" I would put myself in the über personal category.

I have never been afraid to share what I have gone through. Well, that's a lie. I did go through some painful stages in life when I was very ashamed of myself and where I was emotionally/mentally/personally. I was afraid to share. Buuuut... I'm sure that I wrote about that somewhere on this blog.

My philosophy has been that this is my journey. Some of it I have to write out because it is cathartic to just get.it.off.my.chest. Some of it literally jumps off the tips of my fingers and can't wait to get onto the screen. And some of it I share because I hope that it will help someone else or I will be able find a kindred spirit.

Even though it may be painful.

Even though it may be embarrassing.

Even though it may cause shame.

I've been around to see posts come down. To see tweets be deleted. To see a status be erased.

Okay, maybe I have even done that myself. My life has changed A LOT in the last ten months. Enough that from one post to another you may question if this is the blog of the same person! But it was my truth in THAT moment. And in THAT moment. And THIS one, too. If my truth is different now, do I delete my post?

But then I think to myself...what moved me to "put it all out on the table" like that in the first place? Should I go with that instinct? What instinct is telling me "delete. Delete. DELETE!" and should I listen to THAT?

Recently, I read a post online that was so moving. So sad. Devastating really. It was extremely personal and real in ways that many posts as of late are not. Sure, I read a lot of commentary of all types-family commentary, social commentary, political commentary. This post? This post was a gut-wrenching, soul-bearing post. The kind you need kleenex to read. But within minutes/hours the post was gone.

It disappeared from the annals of this blogger's site...and OUT of SIGHT.

And I was left with a small group of people who knew...but couldn't KNOW. Who had read...but couldn't RESPOND. Who felt...but couldn't EMPATHIZE. A few of us even reached out to each other to share our concern. But we knew. The post was down. The message was clear.

THIS [PROBLEM] NO LONGER EXISTS.

And I still think about that blogger. And that blogger's non-existent problem. And sadness. And despair. And I give that blogger a hug in my mind. I send my mojo, even though the receiver doesn't know it is coming.

Because I know. I know all to well. You might have clicked delete, but it didn't go away.

You might have clicked delete

but it didn't go away

Despite the words moved off the page

the cache is here to stay

You might have clicked delete

But tweet was clicked before

and now there are some tweeps

who know not less but more

You might have clicked delete 

but before you clicked on post

And when it went to cyberspace

It RSS'd to most

You might have clicked delete

but our emotions aren't the same

Even though you backspaced letters

you can't backspace the pain