Santa...

Santa Claus - possibility the most famous name ever mentioned in written history. But is there really a Santa Claus? I watched a show tonight on TLC about a woman's journey to find a man named Lucas A. Nast. The woman on the show was a news reporter who had covered a story about a mysterious event of snow in Arizona some years back. She had followed a trail to this man that she (I believe) was Santa.

Now whether or not the event that had happened to her was true or not - the events that she uncovered are quite mysterious. The show was about letters sent to the "Santa Program" put on by the Post Offices all around the country. This man Lucas A. Nast had been a part of it and many strange occurrence's surrounded letters written to Santa that he had fulfilled.  At the end of the show, she had gone to a post office that was hosting it's first "1st Annual Lucas A. Nast" toy drive. When she arrived and when she told the detectives her name - they had revealed quite a tale!

A man that had been arrested last year on Christmas Eve and held until charges were to be pressed - had left her a letter. It contained a letter she had written to Santa when she was about seven - shortly after her parents had died. She had asked him to bring her parents back - and alas, he could not. But what he did do was send her a picture that was taken of with him a year before her parents died at a department store in New York. It was somewhat of a moving tale I am sure for most, yet not me.

I was five years old when I stopped believing in Santa - I think my father had a lot to do with that. Although I did not know then, what I do now (my father had developed schizoaffective disorder and bi polar II prior to my birth) is that I am sure much of his delusions had something to do with this. I know it is why I have always wanted to be in the world of psychology. He made me want to understand people - and why they do the things that do. Back to my story...

So on the Christmas Eve when I was five, I woke up suddenly and knew in my heart of hearts that I had heard the sound of reindeer on the roof of our home. But sadly, that illusion changed by morning. I never felt that way again. I remember watching "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer" as a child and always felt that I was the little lost doll on "Misfit Island". To this day, I still feel that way. So watching this show tonight, seeing how this "Santa" or as one person on the show had said "St. Nick" had answered all of these letters - how so many children had been touched by this mystical being - except me of course. I always dreaded Christmas - I still do. Although I must say that this year I am happier than I have been since I really don't know when.

I had confided in my therapist last year about this time of year that I felt like the unwanted doll on Misfit Island. She had no clue of what I was referring to - but it really didn't matter to me, I knew what I meant.

So this last week, at my new internship, as I am filling out paperwork for my new clients, I keep writing 12/14/14, instead of 12/11/14. I had mentioned this to the last client of the day and she had thought it was strange. In my mad hatter thoughts, I felt - maybe something special was going to happen on this date of 12/14/14. But alas - nada. Except maybe this show.

Once I became an "adult" (notice the quotes) meaning, on my own, job, apt, etc. I have always bought everything whatever I felt I needed or wanted, which left my family upset because they never knew what to get me. I think I did that because I needed to reassure myself that since Santa had never answered not one of my letters, I would make sure I got what I wanted.

So this year rolls around, same questions from my family - what do I want for Christmas? My youngest brother says - what do you want - I say - what I want - money cannot buy. And it is true.
All I have ever wanted was to know love - real love - no more false love. And so as another year rolls by, I am still the lost doll on Misfit Island waiting for someone to do just that. To want me, to care for me, to let me know what love is. But maybe it is not meant to be.

What I do know is that I will have the kids in my group write a letter to this "Santa" and maybe their wishes will be answered, since mine have gone unanswered.

Until then, I will remain - the lost doll on "Misfit Island"...

Carry On Wayward One...

"Carry on my wayward son - there will be peace when you are done", no truer words have been sung back in the late 70's by the band Kansas . I heard that song today and began to pond on my life as it is today. I've often wondered what the peace would be when one is finally done. And what do I have to be done with?

A while back I had a  very odd dream about my mom, grandma, grandpa and my sister in law's mother. Standing in the darkness - 4 coffins appear in from of me and opened - and there they all were. It was odd yet strangely familiar. Each one came out of their coffin and went off to pursue what ever it was they needed to do.

Without boring you with the odd deals of this dream, the end was most revealing. As it neared time for them to leave, they returned back into their coffins. I stood in front of my mother and asked if she would take me with her. Her arms opened up and I felt myself being pulled in...

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a man's hand lands on my left should and states: "she can not go with you now, she has gotten her masters degree and there are things she needs to do". And then my mom now holding a glass jug of Christmas hand towels. She handed them to me. That was the end of the dream.

The creepy part was when I had gone the local Kmart where my youngest niece works and after I walked through the doors - there they were - racks and racks of Christmas hand towels. I was seriously creeped out at that point. Yet it was at that point that I realized the meaning of the towels. I have to have holidays of my own before I can move on - before I can lay down my head to rest.

Yet isn't that what we all seek? Rest ? Rest from our daily troubles and worries. Rest from the hustle and bustle of life. Do we truly find this rest here? Or does it lay else where? I know I have more in this life to do, yet I too seek for the finality of rest.

Until then...

"Carry on my wayward one - there will be peace when you are done"...

The Bottom Line...

The bottom line - the last line on the page. The last thing said. But why the bottom line? Why not the middle line - "read between the lines"? Or the first line? Why does it all end in the "bottom line"?
Is it when we finally get to the end of what we are trying to say? If so why do we just not say it?

Are we afraid of the bottom line? Does it create a sense of fear of the unknown, one of a complete ending? But really - how many times have we said this and how many times have we had to say it to get to the "bottom line".  The end of the road, the end of the tracks - regardless, it is the end. At least we'd like to believe it to be so.

I have said this many times and had to say it many times over just to get it. But what happens when we have said this so many times that Fate must step in and take over? When Fate says enough is enough and the bottom line has dropped.

I believe that my recent bout of illness was due to the "bottom line". I had spent many months at a site only to relentless say to myself that this is the "bottom line" - this is the end of the line. I guess I should have taken it more seriously.

Now due to my recent illness, I have had to put many "over the top" positions on hold due to this need to get real. Yet the grace of Fate has made this ok, actually made me feel a bit special in my universe.

And what I have learned from the "bottom line"? Say what you mean and mean what you say. Also be careful of what you wish for (time off from life).

Cause you just might get it...

The bottom line...

Death by a Broken Heart?

Is there really such a thing? Death by the brokenness of one's heart? Surely this phenomena must exist. At least that is what I was told my the cardiologist during my current stay in the hospital.

Has my heart been so broken throughout the years that it felt the need to no longer go on?  It is possible that this is my real condition? Or is it simply just a condition of the heart?

How does one survive a lifetime of brokenness, and continue to go on as if nothing has happened? How many others can say the same?

I was asked when it started, this condition. Originally I had felt that it was due to the recent death of a very close friend of 37 years. I had not grieved so much since the death of my mother 10 years ago. And as per usual, I do as I always do - keep going and never looking back.

Yet I believe it started before then, and this event only exasperated this condition. And the irony? I fear sleep, since my return home. I fear this heart of mine giving up due to the many trials and mountains I have been made to climb, only to slide back down and start over. I have never feared sleep nor death. Neither are adversaries of mine, nor have they ever been.

Sleep now appears to be the adversary - the one thing I am unable to do. The one thing that I run from. Yet is it sleep, the darkness of one's mind being sheltered from the world or is it that this sleep may give in to the brokenness of my heart.

Death by sleep or of a broken heart...

Space Age Love Song - I was falling in love...

"I saw your eyes, and they made me smile, for a little while...I was falling in love.." sang the Flock of Seagulls back in the day. I've always liked the song but I never really understood it until now. His eyes, made me smile, touched my mind and now make me cry. It had been so long since I felt love - really felt it. I was always afraid of the fire - that it would burn.
But it didn't...it just made me sad...and it does now. My friend the reader told me he wondered if I was sad - of course I would never show my feelings but when I sad down and thought abou8t it like now - I am really sad.

It's always those things we take for granted. Always believing that things will work out, that if I just waited long enough that it would happen. But he came on strong and blew out my fire. And now I am lost in a sea of salty mire. Lost within, can't break through, hello is all I could get from you. Now you are gone. And I miss you already...

"I saw your eyes
and them made me
smile,
For a little while,
I was falling in love..."

To Thine Own Self...

"To thine own self be true" is Polonius's last piece of advice to his son Laertes. Hamlet Act 1, scene 3, 78-82. This most popular phrase from Shakespeare's play of Hamlet, Prince of Demark is used in countless ways. Although most frequently used in 12 step programs, which I have participated in for 22 years.

I have always felt that it to be so important to be true to one's self. Yet did I really grasped the concept of this phrase? I have always prided myself on my ability to be honest about my feelings and honest in all of my affairs (AA mantra). Yet when taking a closer look at myself - hmmm...yeah, ah ok if I say so.

However, I am honest in almost all of my affairs lest one - affairs of the heart. I had a conversation with a friend of mine a few weeks back and admitted to myself and my friend that I had not said the words "I love you" in twenty six years. Yes, twenty six years. How did I do this you ask? What brought me to this place? Lack of honesty in this affair - the affair of the heart.

I have been called out on the carpet over this one many times, being told that I create a fantasy affair in my head and never tell anyone about it - including the one I have attached myself to. So have I been honest to myself and others - no, I have not.

How did I get here? A very sad heart break. One so sad that I closed up my heart, vowing never to love again. Even when the man who broke this very delicate part of my soul returned to my life seven years ago, I still could not say those 3 words - even to him.
I was broken beyond repair and refused to acknowledge it.

What brought me to this place? Another sad heart break - one of my own doing. Now I have stated that I do indulge in my fantasy affairs of the heart that live on in my mind that I keep to myself. Such as the History teacher (to be fair - he came on to me and it wasn't until disaster struck that he admitted to myself and the rest of the class that he was married), however, we became friends until we were no longer friends. Then we have the infamous Psych teacher - who I became infatuated with for many years and when he asked recently if I had come to "just to see him", I replied no - came to see my nephews art. What a liar I am, in the affairs of the heart. I couldn't tell him the truth, that I did go there just to see him. And now...

So my latest indulgence was with a man that I have secretly crushed on for several months now. But I kept true to myself and kept this to myself. So when he moves on and finds someone new, what do I do? Become outraged because I demand that this man read my mind - that he should know exactly how I feel. And again, a closed heart cannot see the forest beyond the trees, nor be honest with oneself.

I have decided that it is time to open up - (slowly) and start truly being true to myself. I have spent the last 26 years of my life living in my head. It is time to go out into the world, to see what's in this world....

And to thine own self...be true...

Game Over...

Game over. That final inning. The last few minutes of the final quarter. When your character dies and your video screen states "gave over" and it plays the song of victory in reverse. When the game is over, and the jig is up - where does that leave you? Are you deflated with defeat if your team has lost? Do you feel devastated when your character dies? What happens when the game is over, really over?

Games. We learn to play them as children. They start out simple enough. But as we get older, it appears that the game as well as the stakes get higher. And these children that grow up into people - are the stakes so high that they too become more treacherous, more deceitful. What then?

Did their parents not teach them how to follow the rules? Or that it doesn't matter who wins or loses it's how you play the game? Were their parents unable to follow the rules?  Or that it doesn't matter how you play the game. Games always have rules, but as children get older, they either ignore the rules or just don't care. I don't think anyone really leaves their childhood behind, nor the rules that did or did not follow. Nor do I believe that playing games out of our own insecurities merit any benefit to either party - therefore why play games at all?

Why do people play games? I understand why sociopath's do - they are just wired that way. But what about regular people. Why do they feel the need to play games? Do they revert to the childish ways of their past in order to avoid conflict? Do people really feel that they have won by playing a game? And if so, what exactly have they won? Victory over someone else? The ability to hurt someone? Or is it simply just a means to an end. A way to exert power that they never really had. Two must play in order for one to win. And if only one is playing? My question is why? What do they have to gain?

When we learn to play games on other people - what do we gain? Victory? Free labor? Inflicting a pain on someone else that had been done to us?

 However you look at it - playing games does not produce any promising outcomes for either party.

Game Over...