Shelter From The Storm

Illoosion

I have decided to change the spelling of illusion.  I've decided to insert the word "loose" in illusion.  I am not implying that "to loose" is inherently a bad thing.  Some things you want to loose.  Some you don't.  Some things you loose and don't realize it until you see someone else with it.  And only then do you want it back.  It's hard to want something if you don't realize you've lost It.  Whatever It is.  Therefore my new spelling of Illusion. 

I was speaking with a friend/client for about an hour this morning.  He is quite wise for a type A 27 year old male.  (he would cringe if he knew i'd referred to him this way).  He reminded me that I have lost my Self in this pursuit of life, happiness, motherhood, Realtor, etc.  I've Lost some of my Zest for Life.  So he and I are speaking of relationships.  He's having troubles communicating with his fiance.  I am having troubles becoming someone's fiance.  And so there we were avoiding work and real estate together discussing our partners.

We had a great conversation.  He challenged me to write down 5 things that I want in a relationship.  All of them must be "I" statements.  2 must begin with "I can not tolerate.....". He says this will help me get straight on my wants and needs.  Which might I remind you I am still trying to blend as one and the same.  But like he said, I can't get what I want in life if I am unclear with my Self.

So in celebration of the lunar eclipse full moon we are having on March 3rd, this weekend, I am going to move closer to my Self.  Give my Self a little credit where credit is due.  I am going to pull back the curtains on the Wizard of Oz and reveal the little puppet controlling the levers of my heart, the direction of my life.

It's the least I can do for my Self, right?

What, Huh, Who?

I'm sorry.  Did a month just pass?  Is it a New Year?  Is it time to get rid of the Christmas Tree?  Oh... okay.  I admit it.  I've been cheating on you.....my blog that is.  I began to get comments... unwarranted ones.  And I began to have folks mention things I'd only mentioned on my blog and therefore I knew they'd been reading it.  Only their comments were phrased more like questions as if I was being tested.  And they weren't comments on here, they were over the phone.  So... I began to cheat on you.  I started another blog where no one knows me.  But that flame has died and I'm back.  And yes, I'm head over heels for some dready Jewish boy from Orlando who has stolen my heart and I hope to get it back some day.  But for now, he's still commuting between here and there and so I only get it when he visits. 

New Year's at Widespread Panic 2007.                                                                             Superb. (thanks to the Peronne's for bringing us into their box)

Any where Lainey is, you are going to have FUN.  Ran into her randomly at the New York Widespread Shows.  Then for the Macon shows she shows up at 4am at The Levell's Plantation.  What, huh, who? Lainey put the "eek" in Greek.

She'd da Bomb.

And yes, we're in the new house.  The new fabulous, I'm alive again, not one but Two baths, back porch, cooking in my kitchen all the time, walking around the house singing and cleaning and shit, burning incense and lighting candles wonderful fabulous Home.  It's the first place I've ever lived that feels like Home.  I am Alive Again.  Now I Get It.

Big News (Maybe)

For the past 10 years I have rented nice homes to live in.  (yes, I'm a realtor)  The first 8 years I rented adorable homes in my favorite neighborhood in the city.  I paid exhorbitant amounts to have my kids in a good school district.  About 2 years ago I gave in and decided to "down size".  I moved to an even nicer neighborhood, meaning the average price point went from 350k in the old hood to about 600k where I now live.  As fate would have it, the nicer neighborhood is where my truck and thousands of dollars worth of stuff was stolen from.  So in an attempt to save money, I have rationalized my two sons and I living in a 1 bedroom 800 sq. foot duplex.  After 2 years of being here, I realize no amount of a positive attitude or organization skills is going to make me like this.  We only pay 800 per month and we're supposedly in a better school district than before.  Truth be told:  I hate it.  And I don't use the term hate loosely.  We live in what's called a shotgun home.  Meaning: keep the shotgun away from me because if I trip over something on the floor one more time I may be tempted to use it.  It's basically comprised of 4 Small rooms all in a row.  No hallway, just a room w/a door, followed by a room with a door, repeat 2 times.  My kids sleep in bunk beds in the dining room.  If by chance I have company over and they have to use the bathroom and the kids are asleep, my guests have to go through the boys room to relieve themselves.  No dishwasher.  A broken window that is taped.  A broken toilet that we now flush with a long makeshift handle.  Windows that shake throughout the house when traffic backs up twice a day out front. No Bath.  Only a tiny shower that would be no good for anyone over 5'2" tall.  No yard.  And the sounds of sirens screaming 3 times a day from the firehouse across the street. (the kids love that part, my ptsd does not).

So what's the big news?  The big news is that my guy and I... Orlando Man, have been discussing getting a home together here.  Back in my favorite neighborhood.  Something I simply can't afford to do on my own.  We have been negotiating with the owners for a month now.  It's actually a listing of mine, they really want to sell it.  SO..... we had a mtg with them today and we are 99% sure we are going to get it.  Should find out by Monday.  We are going to Lease purchase it.  So, at risk of jinxing my self.... Welcome...

we call this a full frontal

we call this a back frontal... the floors are this amazing throughout the entire home!

The closets all have hand carved wood with stars, peace symbols, and birds... all created by the home owner, Charlie, who is a brilliant peaceful man.  He is an integral part of the neighborhood, part owner of the Land Trust, and giver of Light.  The thought of living and owning a home that he has put such love and creativity in to thrills me beyond belief.

The kitchen goes out onto a 2nd floor deck that leads out into a large back yard and full daylight basement waiting to be finished!  Perfect for my Men and their Toys.  (I'm so freakin excited) And yes, those are stars and hearts in the wood. 

The front steps are made of recycled bricks & stones from the railroad track nearby.  Sooo exciting.   

So while we are not 100% sure we'll get it, I know I'll end up where I'm supposed to be.  Meanwhile, Orlando Man is out celebrating.  Always looking for a reason to celebrate.  Next to finding out Stella has come home for Christmas to be with her family... this is the best Christmas present ever. 

My Get Rich Quick Scheme For The Day...

.... is that I've decided that my girlfriends can pay me to take their husbands into my home for a week.  I will, for an undisclosed amount, have husband boot training camp.  It will be Great.  They'll come home appreciating you like Never before.  They'll get No sex and have to do all the cleaning.  I have a 75 lb. 9 year old who still wets the bed, so no shortage of laundry.  And for dinner you ask?  Never fear... my children have mastered the art of cooking in the bathroom where they can reach the sink.  I have redefined contentment. 

So for the holidays this year... get your man the present he'll Never Forget:

  Deb's Husbandry Boot Camp.

Atlanta Botanical Gardens... day of Paul's Memorial Service.

This Is A Test....

So I mention to my guy that I have placed a picture of him on da blog.  He immediately begins telling me of what a private person he is and how he'd rather not be on da blog.  But I tell him, too late, and I'll respect you and not put anything too personal (except a few private conversations and pictures here and there).  You know, the usual. He agreed.  I have taken him to da blog before and so I hereby consider this a test.  Can he handle me, or not? 

Does he read da blog, or not.  This will be a great way to find out.  If he's interested, then he's reading this and will surely Notice that I have posted Another picture of us.  I assured him that only my Friends and a few clients come on here, and Everything is Otay Buttwheat.  Otay.  Now that we have that over with.

I am on week #2 with no medication.  Folks, you can make fun of people who take meds all you want, but take it from a professional, if it works, do it.  For now, I am on a bit of a roller coaster emotionally, but so far, so good.  I've only wanted to have road rage a few times a day.  I've not injured anyone yet, but thought about it more than usual.  This too shall pass I am sure.   I have also chosen this special time in my life to quit caffeine.  Because I can't do anything half way.  I have consequently felt better today than I have in a Really Long Time.  And this is good.  I did run over a dead squirrel and start crying, but this phase shouldn't last too long.  It's true that I have alot of "things" going on right now.  "Stressors" as my "Medication Therapist" told me.  At our last meeting, I told him the quick run down of the previous 30 days.  I prefaced it by saying that I am really proud of myself for handling all of this so well, and knowing that things will work out in the end.  I said to him, I don't want to be on medication at all at some point soon and this is my goal. Medication Free. My summation of the previous 30 days went something like this:

• my car got stolen out of my driveway
• with my entire business in it equalling about 14k
• insurance isn't covering it for now
• the man who molested me as a child for years died last week
• the thieves drained my banking account
• and some "doctor" in Birmingham who claims to be in love with me who had met me once and wants to help me get a new car by sending me $ found out via my blog that i have a significant other and now he won't help me get a new car, because he feels betrayed (I never said I wanted to date you!)(And you Did have strings attached, didn't you... check yourself!)
• oh, and speaking of Daddy issues, my Dad won't return my calls or emails.

All that with a bit of a smile on my face because I have gotten good at letting myself Feel as something happens, accept it, and move on.  And everything in my life seems to be worth laughing at sooner or later.  He looks at me and suggests a new anti depressant. I had just gotten done telling him that I don't want to be on an antidepressant.  Folks, I'm not even on an antidepressant.  I haven't been in over a year.  And what's so wrong with being a little depressed now and then?  I used antidepressants for a year, and they were awesome.  I took myself off and remained on a benzo extended release.  Anyhow, I said to him, after he gave me the run down of all the ssri's now available, I said, "I find it interesting that I just told you that I don't want an antidepressant, and you act as if you haven't heard me.  If you had experienced half of what I just experienced plus caring for two small boys, you'd probably fold in half and not be able to get off the floor."  "No offense."  He went on to justify why he thought I should be on an antidepressant.  I rebutled... "I'm healthy, I exercise, I work, I feel good most days, I don't sleep too much."  Anyhow, it's no use going into it here anymore.

A remarkable thing did happen that day though and I'm incredibly grateful for the session I had with him.  I was taking xr xanax, 1mg a day.  He was reluctant to write me another prescription (he was a new doctor, our first session together that is).  He said that PTSD is not treated with a benzo, that only the symptoms are lessoned.  He asked me how much I sleep, and I said, "not much."  He said, well, I'll write it for another month but we may want to head in a different direction to treat your symptoms.  I'll be damned if I didn't walk out of that office and take myself off medication.  He was such a putz and such a bad listener that it began to make Absolutely No Sense to me why I would listen to his advice on what kind of pill to shove down my throat next to make it all "more bearable." The doctor before him was horrible.  She was like a grown up Annie hunched over in her seat with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, probably at least a decade younger than me, who cut our short 30 minute session short and then prescribed me the Wrong medication on Accident not Once, but twice.

I can forgive my mechanic for screwing up.  The girl in the fastfood window.  But my Doctor writing me the wrong meds for behavior?  Twice in a row?  Give me a break.... okay, back to meditation and rock climbing.  Fine. (notice the one letter difference:  medication/meditation.. they're interchangeable in my world)

Keep in mind, I may be back on medication tomorrow.  And if this were the case, I'd be fine with it.  But Jeez.  Did the guy hear a frickin word I said?  For fuck's sake man.  I've had a hard couple of weeks.  Can you give a girl a tiny little break?  A soft shoulder?  At Least Pretend to Listen.  God I Love My Man.

Okay, just for fun, one more: (don't I sort of look like I have him on a leash?  yes, I meant to say that.)

You may now resume to your regularly scheduled program.

If I Were To Get A Tatoo....

For some reason, I find this Incredibly funny.

I don't have a tatoo.  I can't think of anything I'd like to look at everyday for the rest of my life that I would put on my body.  It's been hard enough coming to terms with the body I have, but add to it?  Call me a typical Virgo.  I'm fine with what I've been given.  But were I to get a tatoo, I'd get one like the one above.  Something to make me laugh.

Brace yourself.... I'm about to get serious..... Amidst all of the weirdness that has been going on in my life lately, my car getting stolen, 3 friends dying suddenly all within the last 6 weeks.  Bizarre career shifts, illnesses, and stolen cars have taken a back seat.  They've happened, but they have not affected me as much because, hell, I'm still here and really Grateful.

Often times when talking to friends about our pasts, the families we've come from, etc, they will comment that they are suprised that "I've been through so much and turned out okay."  This is particularly peculiar to me as it's my life and I know no other, so I guess I take it for granted that I have not had the same upbringing that so many of my friends have had.

Topping the list of it all, would have to be my family, or lack there of.  The youngest of four children, divorced parents by the time I was 5, I hardly was raised by any one person.  My Dad supposedly disappeared for 2 years after the divorce and came back into the picture seldom, mostly when it was convenient for him.  Because he is a "Doctor" and a prominent Professor at the same university for over 30 years, I have found myself speaking of him as though he is a hero.  At times over the years, I would brag about him, his career accomplishments, his intellectual prowess.  Truth be told........ he is not the kind of person I have much respect for.  A man who brings 4 children into the world and walks away one day to start over again (living in the same city) gets no respect from me.  This is a recent decision of mine, and one I've been cultivating for many years.  At the same time, I love him.  He's my biological Dad.  He has never called me for my birthday.  Never acknowledged the birth of my two children.  He has met them twice, but I think it was his wife who lead him to do that.  And of course, me showing up on his doorstep to once again try to "patch things up."  Well, those days are over.  I'll never be able to heal him.  I'll never be able to make his anger go away.  He yells alot despite claiming to be a practicing buddhist.  So instead of trying to make the situation different than what it is, I have finally come to the realization that it is up to me to move forward with my life.  To re-align myself with living the life I want and deserve.  And so, here we are.  I'm 35 for heaven's sakes.  I think the hardest thing for me has been to teach myself to feel good as an adult, having had such a bad childhood.  Giving my own children a happy childhood is essential to me.  Letting them know they are the center of my universe, and that the world is a safe, brilliant place to be if they make the right choices.  Giving them the example and self confidence to make those choices... that's what makes me happiest.  Unconditionally loving and supporting them comes natural.   I'm a lucky girl after all.

The Truck Returns

That's right.  They found my truck.  They found it.  My phone rang on Thursday and a woman asks to speak with me.  She says she works for the city of Atlanta.  She was sooooo sweet.  She says they found my truck.  She goes on to tell me that they pulled over and arrested 3 people in it.  Two brothers and a sister ages 18, 17, and 16.  She gives me elaborate details on the 3 places I have to go to receive release documents to even get it back.  She tells me to have hundreds of dollars on me that day to get it out of the impound.  So instead of working that day, I borrowed a friends car and began my tedious beauracratic errands.  Throughout it all, I kept thinking, "these poor kids."  What would drive these poor kids to steal my car?  After speaking with the sargeant about it, he explained to me that the kids in the car would simply be released and get a slap on the wrist.  He says that they probably weren't even the ones who stole it, and there's no way we can charge them with draining my checking account, or even stealing it, or for the 12k grand worth of now missing items from inside of the truck.

My buddy, Donny was kind enough to take me to pick it up from the impound in the Ghetto.  When we walked up to it, I had no idea what to expect.  Despite every item missing from inside of it, apparently I am pretty lucky I got it back period and in as good of shape as it was in.  It's driveable.  But a bit beaten up.  Donny and I had a hell of a time in the Ghetto.  We ran out of gas just as we were pulling into a gas station.  He pushed it back into the only spot open for gas.  I feared for my life as we walked into pay for the gas only to have the man behind the counter tell us that they are out of gas.  WTF?  It was a bogus gas station.  But!  They did sell us a 1 gallon gas can for $6.  So we went up the street, filled it up, came back and drove it to another station near by (still in the Ghetto).  As I coasted through an intersection and directly began to turn into the gas station, I looked in my rear view mirror and 20 feet behind me, a car blows up,  Ten feet high flames in the middle of the intersection where I was 5 seconds earlier.  There was a line of flames 2 ft high and 20 ft long behind the blown up flaming car.  Seeing as I was feet away at a Real gas station, I freaked out and feared we were all about to blow up, so I sped out of there (leaving my buddy donny standing outside his car trying to help me pump gas) because, well, I'm a spas.  I felt awful leaving him standing there, and me and my little girl naive mind really thought since we were that close to the flames at a Real gas station that we were in danger.  He snapped a shot with his phone camera and someday when I figure out how to upload it, maybe I'll share it with you. 

Utter craziness folks. 

So Donny was Paul's best friend.  Paul, who recently died in the motorcycle accident.  On the way to pick up my truck, Donny and I began to talk for the first time of some of the details of Paul's death.  You see, for a month now, I have walked my kids to and from school several times.  We walk up our street and my kids kept finding these orange arrows on our road a few blocks up.  They would play hopscotch on them.  So Donny, hesitantly pulls out his pictures on his phone and shows me the place where Paul died.  He crashed just a few blocks up on my street towards the kids school.  The arrows  my kids had played hopscotch on were the arrows that marked Paul's Death.  Little did I know.  He also tells me that Paul broke his neck immediately, and so My hope is that he didn't feel much pain.

A bittersweet day. That night, I wrote my estranged Father an email and asked him if he would like to reconcile things with me.  I emailed him pictures of the boys and myself.  And told him I loved him and that I thought life was short and I'd rather have him in my life than not.

No response.  And this man is a teacher at a University.  He checks his email daily, he Has to.  And still, no response.

It's been a hard month folks, but I will make it through.  Always a greater lesson that doesn't always make sense at the time, but I know if I keep moving forward with positive thinking and staying focused on my kids and my goals, that all will be well.

Life is short.  It's fragile.  And good people are hard to find.  And now more than ever, I want to hold onto people who are dear to me.  My friends are my family.  I am humbled by this past months experiences, by all the good friends I've had who've stepped up to help and support my boys and I.  Mostly I am humbled at Dave, the new man in my life.  Who could have walked away at the onset of all this craziness.  And instead he has stood by me, dried my tears, reminded me that everything is okay. Reminded me that I am not my problems and that with persistance, this too shall pass.  He's reminded me that all in all, I have so much to be grateful for.  I realize now that had I not met him just before my car was stolen and all of these other misfortunes since then, who knows how I would have handled it all.  It feels good to be loved.  It feels good to have someone believe in you no matter what.  It feels good to be supported.  And it's also kind of scary to open up to someone at such a vulnerable time.  But you know what.... he belives in me.  And I him.  And that's Huge.

And, we look really good together. 

A Perfect Day In The Park

My littlest monkey.

Love the dirt on the nose.

Piedmont Park.... a perfect day.

What I Will Miss Most (est)

Download greatful_dead_fire_on_the_mountain.mp3

When I wrote the former entry, my mind was filled with doubt, indecision, and what now seems a a mirage of silly frivolous wonderings.  Yesterday I sat at my desk at my office & began catching up on emails.  I was casually opening a few, deleting a few, when I read the words I don't think I'll ever forget.  I must receive 50+ emails a day as a realtor.  I get ridiculous amounts of junk mail.  Not including what goes directly into my spam folder.  In the subject line, reads a really good friends first and last name followed by the words..... "memorial service".  I thought to myself, this isn't funny, why is someone doing this.... this isn't funny... and so I re-read it.... "Paul Carroll's Memorial Service."  I couldn't even open the goddamn thing.  There is No Way.  We were all just camping together afew weeks ago.  I just passed his house yesterday.  My friends who are their neighbors, said they thought they were having a party because there were tons of people in the driveway.  I have a house listed for sale just past their house.  I've passed his house a million times in the last 4 months and everytime said I would stop, but each time I found a new excuse not to.  I wondered if I'd be barging in unexpectedly.  I had scrolled through my cell phone several times looking for his number.  It must have been in my old phone.  "I'll get his number next time I see him at Sweetwater."

Next time never came.  And right now I'm not sure If I'm more fucking mad or sad or just tired or fucking pissed off at myself or the world..... or him for leaving us all here. He wouldn't even let you talk bad about anyone else.  If you tried to say something bad about someone who wasn't there..... Paul would speak up and correct your thoughts with a gentle tone in his voice.  Those piercing blue eyes.... they were iceberg blue.  You only find that color in the sky or in antarctica, but not in someone's eyes.  His eyes were made to not be forgotten.  Paul was the one who walked up to me at Cherokee Farms camping with my kids last summer and he let me know that he knew I was sad.  Even though I was smiling, he said he knew.  It was beautiful out and our camp grounds were next to his.  I don't think he had his rv there, I think it was Guy's.  But I remember the bluegrass band in the background and everyone dancing and I was silently watching my kids ride their bikes.  I was gently swaying back and forth and I kept thinking I needed to be strong like a pine tree.  I need to have deep roots for strength but be flexible like a pine tree when the wind blows.  I had sort of trailed off in my thoughts for a moment, and that is precisely why we would all go out in nature and camp together.... to live as the existentialists.... to find the answers in nature.  I turned to him and I asked him how he was.  He said he was good, but a little sad himself because he'd had a disagreement with his wife just before he'd left.  He said, "but we'll work it out, we always do." and he slung his arm around me and leaned his head in.... that was how Paul hugged.  He said, "I love her... she's the only one who'll put up with me."  He leaned in with his head to let you know that you too were holding him up.  When I saw him camping at the Suwannee Music Festival a few weeks ago, I was sure to ask him one morning how things were with his wife.... he said...."ah, man Deb, they're better than ever.  Better than ever."  WTF?  Why?  Someone explain to me why people like that go first?  I want a fucking explanation.

Next time I will get that number, and I'll drop by without calling, and I'll tell that friend that I love them, and I'll be the last one to let go in a long hug, and I'll lean in so the person I'm hugging knows I need them too.  I'll miss You Paul Carroll.

What I Will Miss Most

Download rupert_holmes_escape_the_pina_colada_song.mp3

So I'm contemplating a Move down South to Orlando.  I was driving around today running errands and such.  I have been thinking about this move for over a year, but now that it seems so close and so real, I've been trying to take it all in.  Trying to enjoy the things about Atlanta that are good.  The sun was setting and I couldn't help but stop and take a few pics of the things I'll miss the most about this crazy Town.  Most of my best girlfriends have moved away over the past few years, and these have become my closest friends:

Don't get me wrong, I have lot's of good friends here I'll miss...  But these guys..... these guys I will miss the most.  Are there colors like this in Florida?  Do trees loose their leaves there?  Are they all deciduous, or willing to shed themselves bare naked for all to see trusting that spring will come?  I guess the only way I'll ever know is if I make the move.  I have lived here for over 10 years now.  That's longer than I've lived anywhere in my life. 

Never mind getting my car stolen, having a gun waved in my face here and there.  Yesterday was filled with a fainting spell, hives, an ambulance, every tube in the world sticking out of my body, and if that weren't enough when I got home I found my bank account online in the negative -888,893.43.  No Joke.  It is quite the achievement.  I guess the folks who stole my car are having a good time.  It's as if I'm getting one final ass kicking before leaving.  Nice.  I keep hearing that song....."welcome to atlanta where the players play and we ride on the sunset everyday....." 

Even still.....I'll miss this place.