The Sockaroon

I've got about 5 blogs I haven't been able to get my thoughts to gel on yet so they're not posted. This one, though, I'm gonna knock out in just a few minutes or so.

I am still getting books and knick-knacks and stuff in the bookcases. I'm hurting so badly... physically, I mean. Ugh. I can only work so fast right now and I can't possibly work on the apartment 24/7, though I'd like to. So here I am putting stuff up, and I saw a journal from several years back when I was living in DC. I was complaining about one thing or another, making a list of things that I knew to be the truth. The second item on the list was this:

"2) I have a very sweet kitty."

I immediately thought back to the time this was happening. My father died 11 months later so this was a very difficult time for me. I was helping Mary take care of Dad and living in a house in DC with 2 roommates; one of which was seriously certifiable. I was so broke that I didn't have enough money to buy food for Socks. So we split the food I ate. I was sure to buy things that he could eat, too. I lived in one bedroom and had kitchen privileges [OMG - the memories make me cringe...] and Socks and I seldom left the bedroom because it was so awful. When I left the house I had to lock him in the bedroom. Whenever I did have my door open he would sit on the bed, stare out my bedroom door, and guard me. He watched out for me, as I had watched out for him when I was married to Michael.

That cat and I were the best of friends. I talked to him constantly and he would talk back when he had something to say. He let me know by the tone of his meows what he needed, and he traveled with me to Oklahoma, between Greensboro and Dave's and Dad & Mary's house in the DC area, and even down to Alabama once. I cancelled an entire week of activities when he dislocated his hip (including a very important Women's convention in Charlotte) to nurse him back to being able to walk. He was my son in every sense of the word except biologically, and in a very real way my comrade in arms during my marriage.

I'm lonely. I miss having someone around to talk to, to entertain, and to entertain me. We would play "knock the thing off the bathroom counter". It cracked me up and he loved it. He would hide under tables and attack my ankles when I walked by. He LOVED headbutts. He enjoyed walking across the keyboard when I was typing. And at bedtime he would walk up to my computer chair late at night and sit and look up at me. I'd look down and he would say, "Mom, time to go to bed. I'm tired." Well, that's what his eyes would say. He had the sweetest eyes I ever saw.

I still cry - often. I loved that cat for 17 1/2 years. I got him AFTER I retired so I was with him night and day. And it's not like he went off to kindergarten and grade school and high school. I was with him day in - day out, 24/7. I would call him when I went on vacation and demand that Michael put the phone up to his ear so I could talk to him. OK, so I was a little neurotic. Sue me. He'd always talk back and his ears would perk up.

I want another cat but I don't know if I can take the pain of loving and losing again. Loving something - or someone - feels like nothing else on Earth. The highs are amazing. The lows are as low as humans get. It's putting yourself out there and knowing that at some point this person is going to let you down and hurt you. You have to be strong enough, and love that person enough, to be able to get through that... and then live to love them again. A great deal of my life has been about loss; 2 cars in car accidents, my health, my teeth, my ability to walk for awhile, my independence for awhile, my hair (now), my job, my ability to make money at all, my Dad, my Step-Dad... people really are taken back when I tell them some of the things I've been through. And I thought most people had been through this stuff. Silly me.

I don't know if I have it in me to love another cat. That cat may have been my soul mate - as cats go. And what if I do get another cat? Then I'm tied down again if I want to travel - and I LOVE to travel - not that I have the money to do that right now. I don't mind being alone, but right now I'm lonely. I need... patience, I guess. That's what everyone tells me, anyway. I've dated off and on since I moved to Greensboro, but only a handful of men - say 6. Six men in 6 years??? And only two of them I am still in touch with because they were the only two that measure up to my standards. Nothing to brag about, huh. Although I'm not in touch with all the men I would like to still be in touch with from, say DC, I'm still in touch with a lot of them. I am very proud of that fact. Somewhere in here is a nice person that quality people liked. I don't know what happened to her. But no one of any quality has come along lately. That, or I am not who I used to be. Maybe part of her died when Daddy did. I don't know. But men go running in the opposite direction after they get past my looks - or they seem to. I wish I knew what signal I was giving off that makes me so undesirable. I know it's me because if it wasn't I'd be dating someone. People don't go through dry spells like this without there being a reason. I am working on looking for that reason.

I am so very grateful that at least I am in Florida where I can live happily ever after by myself. I can run to the beach now, and the beach makes me happy. Like I've said before, if nothing else good ever happens to me again at least I have the beach.

My girlfriend Wen Li, from China - well, originally from China - who lives in Greensboro, Vegas, and Naples, FL right now (she's in real estate) is coming to see me on Saturday. I am very excited about it. She has the means to travel and I am lucky to be able to see her and have her so close at times (Naples is about 3 hours away). I gotta get back to work getting this place finished.

I have a lot of thinking still to do on the cat front. Yes, no, yes, no - I go back and forth. It would take money that I don't really have right now, so I wouldn't do it immediately. We'll see. All my friends think I should get one, though. Even Mom does.

All I know is that Sockaroonie is still with me sometimes. He visits, like Dad does, except Socks follows me around the house and curls up and sleeps with me. Dad doesn't do that. Dad floats.

9/28/10, 2 AM Beach Time

The ocean was angry tonight. I am not often scared by the water; usually I find peace there. But tonight as I walked towards the beach it took my breath away. It was overwhelming, you could feel it in the air. I kept having to gulp in for air. It was like looking up at The Empire State Building and trying to not get dizzy.

The walk across the beach was longer than usual. I even walked quicker than usual because I was so mad. We were both really pissed - me and the ocean. I walked straight into the surf up to my shins and immediately noticed a problem. The sand under the surf was riddled with shells. That's just not normal at Clearwater Beach. The sand there is unbelievably fine, and it's that way pretty far out into the safe area. And you know how you can count the waves to see how many waves are inbetween the big ones? It's usually like 9 or 13 waves inbetween the big wave. Tonight the big waves were coming in every-other-one, then every three, alternating between the two. It was very odd. The surf got so rough I had to get out of it. Shells kept hitting my legs. So I backed out up to my ankles. The waves were so high I still got my shorts wet.

The beach was deserted. Not a surprise - summer is over and season hasn't started yet. I'm glad there was no one there because I needed to yell at God - and I did. I was so angry tonight. I miss having someone to confide in, someone that loves me, someone to snuggle with, someone that knows the meaning of intimacy, a man that is grown-up. It may be a hard bill to fill but that's what I want. And because I don't have one yet - I thought I had married it but I was wrong - I get pissed. Then occasionally it gets SHOVED IN MY FACE. That always feels good. Brings all the hurt, anger, longing, oh hell, pick an adjective.

I think the ocean is angry because of the weather low sitting offshore. I know at times a hurricane that is 500 miles offshore can make the undertow really bad, so it stands to reason that a low could do that to the surf. I know what stirred me up, and with my trip to the beach and unloading on my blog I feel a bit better. Maybe both of us girls will be back to normal in a few days.

Night Sky At Ocean's Edge

On Sunday I received an e-mail from a friend wanting to hear my interpretation of the beach at night. I knew immediately which evening I wanted to visualize for her. It may not make any sense to say it that way but that is exactly what I did in my mind. It was a memorable night for me and I explained it the best I could. I asked her if I could share it with you guys and she was good with that. Here it is, unedited, for what it's worth.

"Oh Jackie -

I'm so glad you're having a good day. This is a tough day for me. I was supposed to go kayaking this morning and I am having a lupus day. My joints and my skin are on fire - probably from the rain you are enjoying so much. :) That front that won't move and is sitting just offshore of the East coast is probably responsible. I was going to be able to see manatees for the first time. I am just devastated. Still, I know this occasionally happens to me even though I am really good at staying well and healing myself. I'll have another chance to kayak and see my manatees.

I can so easily tell you how incredible it is to stand in the surf at Clearwater Beach and look around. One night when I drove over about midnight it was a bit overcast and there were a lot of thunderheads in the sky. I walked into the surf up to my knees and just stood there. I love sitting on the beach and just listening, but if I am going to the beach for a reason - to clear my head, to figure out a problem, to lighten a mood, forget about some stupidity - I have to be in touch with the water. Since it was nighttime I didn't want to walk all the way into the water because you can't be seen, so I just waded in. As you may know, salt water is nature's anti-depressant. Decades ago all sanitariums and spas were at the beach because of the negative ions in the air and the salt water that was readily available. That's why many people still bathe with bath salts. The natural boost to the mood is unmistakable. As a Pisces I have always made my best decisions in the shower. LOL That's why I felt so compelled to move to Florida - water is my element.

So that night as I stood in the surf I looked up and noticed the clouds moving somewhat quicker than usual. They were slowly but surely beginning to form a huge circle around me. I mean a humongous, gigantic circle - probably 50 miles wide, with a kind of a void in the middle. They just magically started forming... an arc, a half-circle, then all around me; the bottom of the circle being right where I was standing on the beach. The sky was a dark, dark blue. The darkest blue I'd ever seen. The clouds were different shades of blue; from a light grayish blue all the way to white wisps. You could see the wisps because the lights from the hotels bounced off them and made them visible. Personally, I don't mind all the hotels on the beach. It makes it somewhat friendlier at times. I don't have a lot of friends yet, and I like being around people - even if I don't know them. Besides, if I want to go somewhere without hotels and people I can easily do that, too. There are plenty of beaches, turnouts, and hidden islands you can get to away from the lights and people. Have I mentioned how much I love Florida?

So there I am, surrounded by water and boiling clouds. The clouds with their kaleidescope of colors were turning over and over in their circle, rolling within this ring, while the middle remained that dark, dark, bluish black. It spoke to me, almost audibly, that the Universe had things well in hand and all I really had to do was be prepared for the best things yet to come in my life. I don't know how long I stood there; 45 minutes? I was mesmerized and in awe of the show I was being given. I didn't have my camera (I now try to make sure I ALWAYS have my camera) (speaking of which have you checked out my photos on FB? I have finally posted some), so I don't have any pics of what those clouds looked like. But I promised myself I was going to remember exactly how those clouds looked and paint a picture of them. There was a meaning behind those clouds (to me, at least) and I wanted to remember them AND THE MEANING. I haven't painted the picture yet, but I will. I won't ever forget how they looked. The clouds never changed. They just continued to boil and turn over and over, keeping the "eye" open, kinda like a hurricane. It was amazing.

Have you ever felt the sand down here? The beaches in Florida make the top 10 beaches in the world for a reason: The sand feels like baby powder under your feet. I remember the first time I walked on it. It was about 10 years ago... it was at night and the feeling is nothing short of orgasmic! It's like a foot massage, quite erotic. You can't quite make out the grains of sand, it's that soft. As you get further out in the surf it gets a bit rocky, but walking the beach is simply amazing. I think some people call it sugar sand. I like the baby power metaphor, personally.

I hope this gives you some idea of why I drive the 8 miles to beach at all hours of the night. It isn't always so dramatic, but it doesn't have to be. I get something from it each time. It puts life in perspective, kinda like seeing the mountains, or the desert. I wish more people realized what beauty and strength surrounded them. They might be more apt to live a better life if they realized they were really a gnat on the back of an incredible environmental chain.

All my best to you, dear friend. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share with you, and for letting me again feel the gratitude I have for being here. I have so many people that have helped me along the way to be able to have made this dream come true. Your support has impacted that dream and I thank you.

I may post this on my blog. It would be a good way to share with my other friends. I hope you wouldn't mind that. Let me know. I won't do that until I hear from you.

Take care -

Debi"

This Is Me

Gradually over the past several days it has come to me. And for the first time in my life I am seeing something clearer than I have ever seen it before. The Woman I am. The Woman in me. Suddenly I see the role I have played in many of the men's lives up to now and it is startling to me.

It seems, much to my amazement, that I have been the woman who men date right before they marry, then oddly stay in touch with, as if they regret moving on; or seem to wish they'd had the courage to keep dating me but something kept them from it. It's not always that cut and dried, and the circumstances don't always completely fit that mold. However, I seem to be the "alter-personality" or the "uber-woman" for many men I have known.

The pieces starting coming together as I began realizing that friends were catching up with me after my move to Florida. It's been kinda nice to talk to old friends because it feels good when when they want to know how I am. It is ALWAYS great to know that people are thinking of you. The thing that I have been able to put together though all this is the situation that most of these men are now in compared to where I currently am. And I make no real judgment here; I base this on the simple observation that actions and speech tend to be an accurate measurement of how happy people are. These men are married or attached to someone they: A) have cheated on with me (known or unknown to me), B) have discussed with me some sort of relationship problem they had or were having, C) were attached to when they had wondered aloud how it might have been had WE stayed together, D) any or all of the above.

I am divorced, single, and pretty happy with my life. I would like to find a significant other to add in, but I think that will happen when I am ready. And as much as I would like to be ready I don't think I am yet. I really don't think I am ready to trust again, much less give the love back in full measure the same way I want to receive it. Maybe I'll never be ready. Maybe it's just something that happens when you meet the right one. I just don't know. But I have strayed off the subject.

When these enlightening thoughts came to me this week I was completely overwhelmed. I was ashamed at the fact that no man, it seemed, would ever see me as more than a stop along the way. Then I took a second look. Is it maybe that I am too good to be true? Some guys have put it just that way to me. "So what are YOU doing here?" "So what's wrong with you that you're not taken?" "Why hasn't somebody snatched you up?" You know, insinuating that if you really were "all that" you would be married already; that there had to be some fundamental flaw because I seemed so perfect. I don't know. Maybe there is. I'm just me, so what do I know?

So which is it? Trash? Or Treasure? Is there something really wrong with me? Or do men have no guts to think that there might be the possibility of having the perfect friend, lover, or whatever it is they're searching for - that perfect companion - in me? Or has society finally made companionship obsolete? There's no need for it. With dating as it is these days - it's all done in groups anyway - who needs companions for life? We can all live alone and date in groups as we need to, then "couple off" as necessary for those biological things that people do.... Hey, I've thought about that myself. Why would I want to strap on another man to my life? There's safety in numbers. So to speak.

I guess the fact is that I want to be special to someone. I deserve it. I am an incredible person. I don't usually let people see that because I chat and talk and hide behind my jabber. I cover up my beauty with intellect and verbosity and talk of my illness in hopes of people finding me disgusting and shallow so I'll not have to deal with being vulnerable to anyone. Sometimes that backfires, like it did with the only man I really liked in Greensboro. Serves me right. I got out alive and he never saw through me - but everything became very clear to me. I learned a lot in that little petri-dish of an apartment of his.

So. I guess this is who I am. Posting this is probably one huge, gigantic mistake. Open ribs, spread them, cut open heart. Nah. This is what I'm here for. Somewhere in here is my mission. This curse for openness is the blessing for someone else. And maybe, in the fullness of time, back around as a blessing for me.

Typical Debi Fashion

In typical Debi fashion lately I seem to be paying more attention to other people's lives than mine. Maybe this is a defense mechanism for me. It is a little too painful right now to deal with some of my reality. The loneliness (not being alone, being lonely), how badly I'm feeling physically (although with all the sleep I got last week I am feeling better), feeling so grumpy - which I think is a direct product of not having anyone to verbally talk to, being surrounded by boxes and not having the things I need to unpack them completely due to the idiocy of the guys that loaded Lily Pod, living without things like silverware, a dining room table, MY BREADMAKER! (WHO KNEW?)... All these things are making me want to run from my reality, so I look for things to run to. Fortunately, or not, I have an entire other world on Facebook, so I hang out there. That enables me (the operative term being "enables") to ignore my current plight and help others with their problems and delight in their joys. I'm not saying my feelings aren't genuine when sharing them with my friends on Facebook; they most certainly are. I think, though, that I should probably be addressing my problem of going to Greensboro and collecting the rest of my belongings, and attending my Meetups more frequently to get me out of the house rather than escaping onto Facebook to get away from my reality. Escape from reality too often is a bad thing - for me, at least.