Posts Tagged With: relationship

Worth the Fight

Worth the Fight

Worth the Fight

Being single has its benefits.  Being single with adult children has even greater benefits. One of those is that you make a lot of new single friends and your life becomes centered on you and all the things you’ve always wanted to do.  All your married friends, or friends with small children, now have different responsibilities and lifestyles.  That doesn’t mean you won’t still be friends, it just means that for a while you won’t have much in common and walk in different circles.

With these new single friends, you’ll find different levels of philosophies, values, and ideas of what a relationship is all about.  However, if those of us who are single knew the secret to relationships would we be single? There’s a bunch of people who tell themselves their singlehood was their choice.  While that is partially true, someone else was involved in that decision.

One of my single male friends once told me, “Romance and love have nothing to do with each other.  Love is more important than romance.  Romance messes up a relationship. You do stupid things, start having expectations of the other person and yourself, you both put each other in boxes, and people start thinking they own one another.  Real love is something that is so much more valuable.”  This single friend says that as soon as he starts to feel ‘possessed’ by a woman it makes him despise that relationship and he longs to be free.  He admits that he doesn’t think he could ever be completely monogamous to one woman.

I truly think he believes this.  It breaks my heart, because he looks at monogamy as enslavement, and can’t see the beauty of a woman giving him her heart, choosing him to share her life with – her ups, her downs, her body, her passions, her time, her talents, her hopes, and her dreams. Some of these will be fun and others will be heavy. She doesn’t share them to ‘possess’ him, but so they can share one another.  She gives herself to him because she trusts him.  A woman shouldn’t share those parts of herself with someone who won’t share those same parts back with her.  Because that’s how he values her – by trusting her with himself.  When my friend says he doesn’t think he could ever be monogamous, I don’t think it has anything to do with sex.  He’s saying he’ll never trust a woman enough to give her his whole heart.  I think it’s cruel to ask a woman to share any part of herself knowing he’ll never share his whole heart with her.  It’s a disaster waiting to happen and selfish.

I have another single male friend who is looking for that special feeling with a woman without the complications.  He says there has to be a balance, to never be in a relationship where her problems are bigger than yours – and to keep life simple.  I don’t know if this is sadder than the example above, but it’s pretty sad.  I’m still trying to figure out which one of us really believes in fairy tales.  Who doesn’t have issues and problems?  How unfair it is to put that kind of responsibility on the women he meets. Is he offering her a perfect man in return?  That’s one of the things that make me shake my head on these dating sites  – they ALL say they’re not looking for perfection, because they know they’re not perfect themselves – then ONLY hit on beautiful women or dismiss them on a single trait that doesn’t match their ‘perfect’ partner. (I know they do this – because I did.)

All of us are fucked up in one way or the other.  NONE of us have our lives perfect and we sure as hell don’t ALWAYS make the right decisions.  We all have pasts, we all have fears, and we all have weaknesses.  There is no perfect woman out there that’s just going to walk into his life.   There’s perfect opportunities for him to invest his heart, his time, his life into loving a woman, giving her his heart, and finding perfect love between two imperfect people.  Her problems would be his quest to solve, not a reason to hide. His happiness would become her quest.

Like I said earlier, I’m not sure which one of us believes in the fairy tales.  I watch these men expect unrealistic expectations in the woman of their dreams, yet not realize the best one for them is the one they have to fight for and fight with.  It’s the one that makes them laugh and pisses them off at the same time.  It’s the one that makes them question themselves and pushes them to their limits, even though they see it as an irritation. It’s the one that loves them for who they are and isn’t trying to change them.  It’s not the one that only evokes a fantasy in the bedroom, but the one when the bottom falls out that he reaches out to protect because he can’t imagine life without her – her smile, her laugh, her dumb jokes, her stupid ideas or any of her weird quirks.

Now I could go on and on about my single male friends and how I think they’re philosophies are a little warped, but I won’t.  I love them dearly just as they are, degenerate minds and all. I actually feel bad for them mostly because I’ve met a LOT of single women lately and listened to THEIR relationship philosophies… and if I were a man – I’d run!!!  I’d run and hide and never come out.  The things I hear some women say they want, the things I see them do, and philosophies that come out of many of their lip-stick covered mouths, I understand why men think the way they do.

I’m beginning to agree with my friend above that says love between friends is much better than lovers… and my other friend’s idea to keep your life simple.  While I’m no longer on the dating sites, I’m still dating – I’m dating the most exciting, interesting, and adventurous person I’ve ever come to know – ME.  I’m living in the moment and doing what pleases me in that particular moment.  I’m giving my heart to her, doing the things that please her and makes her happy. I want to make her dreams come true, I want to fight her battles, I want to stand up to her enemies, I want to see her succeed, I want to make her laugh, I want her to know she’s beautiful and she’s worthy to be loved… and that her problems are worth battling.  She’s worth the fight.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: Blog Post, Inspirational, Poetry, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Broken Receptors

Broken Receptors

 

Broken Receptors

I believe my receptors into humanity are broken because I don’t think I understand the world anymore. Perhaps I’ve spent too much time reading and writing in the fantasy world that I’ve lost touch with the real one.  Before my friends start jumping on the bandwagon and flooding my inbox with messages wanting to know what’s happened, I can say, “nothing’s happened”… seriously, nothing.  It’s just another of those existential moments, a culmination of several weeks, months, and even years of data being processed.

I look at the relationships in my life and see which ones have failed and which ones have lasted, which ones grow and which fade.  I believe I can pinpoint the transformations all stemming from either a strong or weak connection of the mind and soul, and on some levels even the body.  I have some friends whose words, inspirations, and actions touch my very soul.  They’re absolutely beautiful to me because of this link.  When I see their faces pop up on my phone it isn’t a pair of eyes, a set of dimples, or a crazy-ass smile I see – it’s wisdom, knowledge, awe, respect, admiration, integrity, compassion, excellence, truth, trust, and a deep honest love.  They’re beautiful to me.  I often call them beautiful, but I have no idea if they even understand what I’m saying.  I also have no idea what they see when my face pops up on their phones.  I very seriously doubt it’s anything similar.

I’ve always felt physically disconnected.  Always.  I rarely allow people to touch me, because that requires connection, it requires trust.  Don’t get me wrong. I don’t flip out if someone touches me, I just don’t initiate or put myself in a position to be touched if it can be avoided. Only a few times have I ever felt comfortable enough to where it seemed natural to touch.  Most of the time people interpret my reaction as disinterest or lack of attraction on my part – which would often be wrong. I make a point to verbally communicate that attraction.  But in contradiction to that reaction and protection, I crave connection.  I crave touch most of all. Yet, I’ve set up my life where I go weeks, even months, where I am not touched by another human being at all.  Almost on a daily basis my soul is enriched through the intellectual, psychological, and emotional connections I have with my friends (who are all far away from me and some have never touched me), yet there is no physical interaction.

As most of you know, I’ve tried to enter the dating world.  Can you imagine how that’s working out for someone who seeks those same types of connections I have with my friends and then add a physical connection (from someone who fears touch) to the mix?  Not very well. I think I’m actually going to pause for a while, because frankly I’m just exhausted.  I don’t understand the world.  I don’t understand what people want. I can’t fulfill those want anyway.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, says they’re not looking for perfection, but they’re all liars. We’re all looking for the fantasy we fell in love with in our minds and when the people in front of us don’t live up to that fantasy, instead of changing the fantasy we change the person.  Perhaps because I’m a writer and know how to change the plot, change the scenery, and even change the main characters – I meet people with an open-mind and an ability to rewrite my fantasy – creating one around the person in front of me.  But how can I expect them to be able to do the same? The sad part – I don’t.  I expect them to find the one flaw that will change everything, destroy the fantasy, sever the connection, and be the reason that gives them the excuse they need.  I will then watch them walk away.

People say one thing, but their actions say another.  I meet men who say they’re looking for that deep connection, for a woman that will stir their minds and imaginations as well as their bodies, but they dig no further than skin deep, going from pretty face to pretty face, beautiful body to beautiful body, waiting for lightning to strike, but dancing on a clear sunny day. They’ve got no idea why they haven’t found “the one” yet.  If you want lighting – you have to dance in the storm. You have to be willing to withstand the wind, the rain, and the thunder, but most of all days with no sunshine.  Who wants to deal with all that, really?  This is how I’m disconnected.  While I love the sunshine, I feel most alive in the storm.  I’m looking for that person who stirs my soul, irritates the hell out of me because they push my buttons and refuse to let me wallow in deception, self-denial, and reside in a comfort zone, making me a better person and come to a better understanding.  Yet those are often the very reasons why I’m never ‘the one’.  Who wants complicated?  Isn’t life complicated enough?

I’m about to celebrate my 43rd birthday.  At this moment I’m tracing a small scar on my chest where a needle of adrenaline was shoved into my heart when I was 22 to get it back started and regain a connection with life.  While I’m having the most amazing adventures, I’m doing them all alone because I can’t seem to make a connection, or perhaps just the right connection. I place my hand flat on my chest and feel the familiar thump and wonder why I’m still here.  For what purpose was I saved? I used to think there was a reason I survived, twice, really more than that if you count all the near-death experiences.  I once believed I would somehow make a difference in this world. I thought I was special.  I thought I was set apart for some great mission.

The truth is – I make no difference and I’m no different than anyone else. The world doesn’t need me and will continue to turn without me when I’m gone. I faced my mortality a long time ago.  I’m not talking about feeling or believing I’m worthless.  I’m very precious and valuable. I’m a mother.  I’m a contributing member of society.  I have self-esteem and believe in my abilities and talents.  I’m not depressed. I was once needed by my children and by family before that. I’m not needed by anyone now, and that’s not a bad thing.  I also don’t need anyone else. I love many people, my friends, my children – but I don’t need any of them.  I go day by day, week by week, month by month taking care of myself, living my life often with only a text here, an email there, a call every once in a while – a connection of the heart and soul – and I love them for it.  They have been my companions and showed me the beauty of the world. But, there’s no one to touch me, to hold me, to wrap their arms around me and tell me everything is going to be okay – there’s a lost connection – one I’ve never been able to make and seriously doubt I ever will.

Please don’t inundate me with emails or messages and tell me my time will come and that there’s someone out there for me I just haven’t met them yet.  I was also told … Mothers love their children.  Fathers love their daughters.  Brothers love their sisters.  Husbands love their wives.  Sometimes there are just broken receptors.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

 

Categories: Blog Post, Inspirational, Musing, Romantic, Spiritual, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

More of Heaven

More of Heaven

 

Many of you that have followed this blog for some time have heard some of the ugly stories of the life I grew up in and the violence I had witnessed.  I have every human reason to hate, to be angry, to be a victim – yet I choose love.  Because of the hell I’ve experienced, I strive to fill my life with things that make this world beautiful, to feel a bit of heaven in the here and now.  I don’t care if you believe in Heaven or Hell, God or gods, or no god at all.  That’s not what this post is about.  I’m so sick of religion. I’m so sick of people hurting, killing, and being hateful to one another in the name of their religion – whether it be Muslim, Jew, Christian, Atheist, Liberal, Feminist, Conservative, Scientist, Gay, Straight, Black, White, or Zombie Survivalist … I’m sick of it all.  Everyone speaks for their god – but no one listens.  Their agenda is not about loving each other as human beings, but about being ‘right’.

I have my faith, and that belief is between me and my god, and it’s really none of anyone else’s business.  I share my beliefs with those  I consider my friends and are close to me, but I never try to force my faith or beliefs on them, or judge them for their own should it differ from mine.  I have to say, I’m pretty proud of the fact that I’m surrounded by beautiful people who love me and walk in many different faiths and beliefs.  I’m not threatened or offended by our differences. I embrace them and cherish our individuality.

It truly breaks my heart to see all this anger and hate in the world.  I know, I know… there’s no more hate now than there has ever been throughout history.  Each generation, each culture, each race, and each faith has their own horrid story of hate.  It still makes my stomach turn to know many of my ancestors were slaves and dehumanized, others were herded into gas chambers like cattle, and others were starved, abused, and tortured for standing up for their beliefs.  I’ve watched young girls being bought and sold as sex slaves, seen fathers and brothers shot during bad drug deals, mothers separated from their crying children to be hauled off to prison, women raped, men brutally beaten, and no one there to save them or make a difference.  For so many years I hated the idea of God because these things existed. I accused Him for their existence and found the whole world guilty of hypocrisy and lies.  I then realized I could be another one of those hypocrites, or I can choose to love instead.  I’m not saying there aren’t things I dislike, because I do, but I don’t allow hate to consume me.  I see people as human beings first before anything else.

What you may not know about me is that I’ve died twice, at least twice I know about and remember.  Perhaps more if some of the stories I heard as a child are true – like having to be rushed to the hospital at 6 months because I stopped breathing and turned blue – was told I almost succumbed to SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrom) or riding on top of a car at 5 as my 6-year old brother drove through a field and a barbed-wire fence with me on top.  My childhood is filled with such stories of danger, (Wow, I think I understand where my desire for extreme activities come from now.)yet I am still alive.  But that has not always been the case.

When I was 4-years old I was attacked by a neighbors Doberman Pincher.  I received over 114 stitches in my head (I have a nasty scar as a reminder).  I remember the moment of the attack.  I remember the hospital.  I remember what it felt like when I stopped feeling, stopped hearing, stopped seeing, stopped smelling and stopped hurting.  I didn’t see a white tunnel or a bright light, but I did hear someone call me and I remember a feeling.  I can still feel it right now.  I can’t describe it, not in any sense to give it justice, only it was a knowing, a completeness, and what I believe was love.

Before I get back to this feeling, let me tell you of the second time I died.  This is an incident I’ve rarely share with anyone.  I still have the scar on my chest where adrenaline was jabbed into my heart to get it restarted.  Seeing it reminds me sometimes that I’m human, fragile and mortal. But I’d really like to forget that day if I could.  I remember looking into the blue sky not being able to breathe and knowing I was about to die.  I saw all the lights around me dim, first to gray and then to complete blackness.  All sound faded.  All feeling evaporated.  I realized I didn’t need to breathe anymore. Again, no tunnel, no white light, just a knowing of who I was – not who I thought I was.  I had no name, yet I was known.  I had no body, yet I existed.  I was complete and filled with love.

I believe this feeling I felt is what we often think of as heaven. Not a place to go after we die if we’re good enough, but a place that is here and now and accessible when we love one another. The reason I believe this has nothing to do with religion, but everything to do with being able to feel glimpses of that same feeling during different moments in my life.  I feel it sometimes in a smile, in a touch, in an expression of affection, in an act of kindness from a stranger or someone I care about, or in a moment of bravery.  I’ve felt it while lying in a pair of strong arms listening to a heartbeat.  I’ve felt it in a gentle kiss. I’ve felt it watching someone care about someone else.

I was never loved by my parents or my family when these two moments happened.  I didn’t know what love was – but I have searched for it, searching for this particular feeling ever since.  The more I found it in the world, the less angry and hateful I became.  I still have work to do, I still have walls and defenses and wounds, but I never stop hoping to fill my life with more of this love… more of this heaven.

Recently I told a friend of mine that feelings lie, feelings change, and that I don’t trust them.  He said I was retarded sometimes and wondered how such a smart person could be so obtuse.  He added that I was amazing – one big contradiction of contradictory contradictions, and said, “You’ve been hurt so much you absolutely forgot how to be positive.” I, of course, disagreed with him.  Don’t you just love it when somebody tells you something about yourself, but you didn’t see it, and then all of a sudden you see it and hate that they were right?

I had forgot about that feeling, until I felt it slowly sinking into my very bones as I felt a pair of strong arms around me and I listened to a steady heartbeat and fell asleep.  I don’t sleep much, but especially when other people are around, but I fell asleep wrapped in that feeling – the same feeling I felt both times I died. If that was heaven, I want more.  Most of all I want the world to want this heaven too and to stop hating one another.  Stop killing our children, stop putting babies and animals in overheated cars, stop stealing our young women and forcing them into sexual slavery, stop poisoning and bombing each other, just stop it, stop it, stop it.  Fight for your cause, but not each other.  Fight for your faith, but not at the cost of humanity.  Fight for your freedom, but not at the price of someone else’s enslavement.

There are people in this world I don’t like.  There are evil people who I fear have no hope of redemption because they possess no soul.  I’m not naïve, I’m just hopeful in a hopeless world.  I simply want more of heaven.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: Blog Post, Inspirational, Musing, Spiritual, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

The New Bachelorette: Dating After 40 – The Truth

The Truth

 

My saga into twenty-first century dating over 40 continues and let me tell you, it’s been eye-opening.  I’m learning about so many new things like Catfishing and Polyamory, right along with the tried and true traditional vices like Adultery, Cheating,  Hook-Ups, Herpes and Open-Relationships.

Some of those things I expected to encounter, others have really forced my eyes wide-open in suspended disbelief.  But there’s something else I’ve noticed that I think is even more detrimental and destructive among this wild world of dating… and that is the truth, or lack of it.  So, I thought I’d share just a little bit today.

I’m a writer.  I understand fantasy, fiction,  and fairy tales.  But that world seems to be much more sensible, logical, and plausible than the profiles of many of the current online and offline daters.

Most online profiles read like a laundry list of fantasies and falsehoods of how some people see themselves, or what they think makes them sound good and appealing.  I don’t mind those that say they love the outdoors, it seems EVERYBODY loves the outdoors.  But damn… if you haven’t spent any time in the outdoors in the last couple of years, you don’t really love the outdoors.  You love the idea of the outdoors.  I don’t mind that you love to travel, but how many stamps are in your passport or how many adventure photos do you have?  Sure, EVERYBODY loves to travel, but why waste space on your mini-bio writing something you only love the idea of and have no immediate plans to go anywhere? EVERYBODY is loving, compassionate, and loyal,  except we’re all single, alone or divorced, so there’s been some trouble in one of those departments by either us or our former partners.

But, even so… those are all wonderful qualities for at least the ones we should strive for in ourselves and in a potential relationship.  However, the profiles that KILL me… that literally have me rolling my eyes and shaking my head are the ones where the dater has absolutely NO common sense.  Here are a few examples of what I mean.

  • Don’t post a picture of your truck/car/motorcycle – I immediately pass over those because what that picture tells me is that you’re materialistic and you find your value and worth in the things you possess.  I’m neither about to become another of your possessions, nor come second to your toys. This goes for guys who boast about how much money they make.  I wish they wouldn’t even ask that question.  (Yeah, I know – unfortunately there are gold diggers out there and the sugar daddy’s who like them. Pathetic really.)
  • Don’t post a picture of your beer, fish, six-pointer, or your golf clubs.  What this says to me is that if I’m dating you, your first love is “YOU” time, that you love spending time by yourself in the woods hunting, fishing, drinking, and golfing.  There’s nothing wrong with these things in moderation, nor the fact you might love them.  But this is a dating site.  The smart thing would be to show me what fun things you’d want to do WITH a date or a partner… not how you’d spend your time alone.
  • For God’s sake, and this if very important,  take a shower, comb your hair, put on a freakin’ shirt and please, please, please …smile.  You don’t know how many pictures I see where the expression on the guy’s face looks like he’s saying, “I hate my fucking life and I’m pissed at the world.”  I’m thinking,  “Wow, you’re a load of fun and I so want to hang out with you.” (Please understand that was said with the thickest of sarcasm.) If you can’t show me being with you will make me happy, I’m running in the other direction. I want to be happy.
  • Don’t post pictures of you holding up a wad or fan of money, or shirtless poses, or other distinguishable (and not so distinguishable) parts.  That’s saying, “I’m looking for a hooker. I don’t value you as a person, just a vagina. You mean nothing to me, I just want to get my kicks, use you, objectify you, and then toss you aside for the next good time.”  There are other websites for that sort of ‘dating’.
  • Guys, please, get someone to take your picture or get a smart phone that has the reverse photo capability.  I literally laugh out loud at the dozens upon dozens of selfies make with the guy looking like a total dork holding up his camera phone in front of a mirror.  Not that using the camera phone in such a way is dorkish… but it’s the expressions on your faces when taking those kind of photos.  I’m looking for smart, intelligent, creative, a man who can think on his feet.  If he can’t handle a simple cell phone, how will he ever be able to handle me?
  • Post a photo.  If you don’t post a photo, you’ll get no response from me or probably anyone else.  The only ones who would respond would probably be the women who’ve broken all the above suggestions themselves and not getting any responses from anyone. I’m not just a pretty face, nor am I looking for just a pretty face. I look at the eyes, the smile to see if I see life or a spark of life in them.  Not posting a photo tells us ladies that you’ve got something to hide or are ashamed of your looks.  Yes, we women love our eye candy just as much as you guys do, but NO WOMAN likes a man with low self-esteem.   Not any real woman.

I want a relationship just as much as the next person.  I love my life and I want to share it with someone.  What I look for in a man for that relationship is so much more than a hot body.  Actually, if your body seems to be the thing you present most or first, I often pass you right by, no matter how good-looking you might be.  I’m mostly looking for qualities in a man that will tell me he will value me, he will pay attention to me, he will care for me, and he will share his life with me.  The profiles that appeal to me most are pictures of the guy smiling, having fun, showing affection to his family or his children, and showing me his accomplishments.  Nothing is more attractive to me than seeing a man beam with pride toward his children or of something he’s worked hard at and accomplished in his life.  It shows me where his heart is.  If I can see the love he has for them, I’ll be able to see the love he would have for me.  A brilliant mind, astounds me. A passionate soul, stirs my passions.  A compassionate man, melts my heart.

But, I guess my idea of ‘dating’ is so much different than the average norm.  It seems sex and physical attraction is up front and center.  Don’t get me wrong, I plan on having lots of wild, crazy sex, but within the confines of a relationship.  My body will follow my heart, yet it seems the world seems to think that the heart will follow the body.  Yes, before I enter into a relationship, there has to be physical attraction, commonalities of interests, and differences enough to bring a unique perspective so there will be balance.  Yet, I’m discouraged most often because I feel like I’m alone in this pursuit by the profiles I read day after day after day.  But, I know that’s not the truth, because the truth is buried deep beneath all these layers of peacock feathers.   It’s truly a treasure when I come across a profile where the guy is just being himself, being honest with himself, making him the most attractive man of the day, at least it is for this bachelorette over 40 looking for love and truth.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: Blog Post, Health & Fitness, Inspirational, Musing, Philosophy, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Perfectly Imperfect

imperfection

Perfection.  It’s a novel idea, but it doesn’t really exists; it’s an illusion.  Even in things or people we think are perfect, that perceived perfection is only for a moment, at first glance, at first inspection. As we become more familiar, we begin to see the flaws, the cracks, and the imperfections.  The key is to maintain the same level, or even a deeper level, of affection for that person or object as these imperfections surface.

None of us are perfect.  None.  Not one.

Being single and Valentine’s just around the corner, I’ve been considering the type of man I’d like to date.  At first my idea of the ‘perfect’ man popped into my mind, and boy my list of requirements was long.  But as I thought about it, it’s the imperfect, flawed, and damaged man I wanted most.  Not a wreck, not unstable, just flawed. Let me try to explain.

I don’t want someone who will do what I want, when I want, or tell me what I want to hear, obey my every command, or fulfill my every want and desire.  No, I didn’t mistype that sentence.

I’m a passionate  person, and passion is what gets my heart pumping and causes excitement to flood through my veins.  I’m passionate about love. I’m passionate about life. I’m passionate about reading, writing, marketing, hiking, exploring, being adventurous, being a friend, being a mother, etc.  But, I’m not passionate for these things because they’re readily or easily available at my wish or command.  They’re hard to acquire, participate, and procure, and require dedication, determination and devotion.  I respect them, admire them, and love how they affect my life, because they make me a smarter, healthier, happier person – a better woman.

A man who doesn’t challenge me, doesn’t push me out of my comfort zone, doesn’t stand up to me, doesn’t encourage me, doesn’t inspire me, doesn’t push my buttons sometimes, doesn’t argue with me (not just to argue but stands for what he believes), doesn’t earn and receive my respect, doesn’t stir up my passions, doesn’t make me want to be a better woman, so they’re just not the man for me.

I want a passionate man in my life.  I need someone to care about me as a whole person, because I’m a mess, flawed, broken, and shattered.  I don’t need a man to complete me, to hold me together, to hold me up.  He’ll just get tired of being my hero.  I need one that will help me put my pieces together so I can stand on my own, who can stand beside me, and together we fight the dragons of this world. I need to inspire, push, challenge, stand up against, encourage, and argue with him for the same reasons I need it for myself.  I need someone that will protect me, whom I can protect, a partner who I can stand back to back with… still fighting our own battles, but have each other for strength and support. Bottom line – I need someone just as passionate as me.  Not perfect, but perfectly passionate.

Till next time,

~The Imperfect T.L. Gray

Image:  http://www.stylehasnosize.com/wp-content/uploads/imperfection.jpg

 

Categories: Blog Post, Health & Fitness, Inspirational, Musing, Quotes, Romantic, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Connection

Connection

 

I think the thing that makes us most human among a planet of sentient beings is not in what we can do or not do better than the other, or even the uniqueness in our DNA.  Those are important and great to use in classification, but more important in separation and identity.  But what I feel truly makes us human – is our capacity to connect to one another and the universe around us.

I’ve seen people connect with each other, with animals, with a place, with a moment in time, and it change them forever.  I’ve experienced each of these things in my own life.  Not all these connections are good.  Not all are bad.  But each one helps define us, shape us, and guide us into the tiny spark of life we live.

Compared to the vastness of the universe, we are but a speck.  Compared to infinity of time, we live but a tick on a grand clock.  It’s no surprise that sometimes we can feel lost, unimportant, and insignificant, yet when we truly connect with something or someone, those feelings change.

Love is the greatest of them all.  It causes the greatest change, the strongest impact, and the deepest connection. Even among the worst of pain or the deepest of sorrow, it has the ability to heal, to nurture, to restore, to effect and affect – to connect.

The greatest thing I’ve desired in my life is to be loved.  It is also the hardest connection to obtain.  For those few whom I’ve had the privilege to connect, I thank you.  Thank you for being a part of me, of my life, and making my existence significant.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: Blog Post, Inspirational, Musing, Romantic, Spiritual, Writing | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

Perfect Dream

Perfect Dream

 

Have you ever dreamed the perfect dream to only have it turn into a nightmare?  I don’t mean a wet dream, though those can be quite nice, I’m talking about a dream so perfect – a perfect day, a perfect love, with perfect weather, in a perfect location, experiencing perfect emotions, perfect peace; happiness; just sincere happiness; nothing extravagant, simply small, but so full of love?

I had one of those dreams last night.  I was walking down a trail, someone was holding my hand, that’s all I remember is the hands; our fingers entwined.  I heard laughter. I couldn’t tell if it was mine or his.  We were just walking.  The sun shone down on us, the wind was cool and soft.  Everything was green, there was so much green.  But, it wasn’t the scenery that made it a perfect dream.  I don’t even know if it was the company, but it was the feeling.

I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel alone.  I didn’t feel rejected.  I felt complete.  I felt content. I felt happy.  I felt at ease.  I trusted who I walked beside.  I was happy with who I was.  I felt loved – completely loved. I just knew – I KNEW that I’d never be alone, that I was whole, and that no matter what happened in the world, I was going to be okay.

Then I woke.

I tried so hard to go back to sleep. For that dream, I’d choose never to wake. What hurts most is knowing it is all just a dream. I’m left wondering why I can’t have that in my life right now.  It seems I live from one trial to the next.  While I have moments between, during, before, and after each trial, each testing,  it doesn’t seem like my life ever clicks to where I have a moment’s rest.

I’m so tired.  I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired fighting. I’m tired of losing. I’m tired of starting over. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of being rejected. I’m tired of feeling helpless. I’m tired of surviving. I’m tired of having to climb out, climb up and climb over.  Can’t I stand on top for a moment? I’m sure it’s just my imagination that there are people out there in this world with an easy, happy life – devoid of disaster, tragedy and chaos.  I’m sure I torture myself with wanting something that doesn’t exist.

When we fight for something, we fight for a specific outcome.  I’m pretty strong most days, keeping purpose in front of me, encouraging myself forward, pushing myself with the strength to put one foot in front of the other.  But, there are some days when I’m not strong at all and I lose sight of that hope,  and I don’t remember what I’m fighting for.

But what choice do I have?  I’m still here. I’m still breathing.  My heart still beats. It doesn’t just stop, no matter how much I want it to just stop.  I can try to numb it with alcohol, but that won’t do anything to change the situation –except only to make it worse.  I can try to mask it in a vain relationship, but like the alcohol, it’ll only lead to something worse.  I’ve tried to exercise it away, meditate through it, and vanquish it with prayer – but it’s still there. I still wake up every morning.  My prayers go unanswered. My thoughts torture me. My body constantly aches from the extreme physical measures I put it through.

I’m split in two.  There are two parts of my soul, separated, that keep me from being whole.  I feel one part shutting down more and more every day.  There’s the emotional me – and the practical me.  My practical side is a work-a-holic who thrives in work. I’m most accepted when I work.  I’m valued most for what I can do for others, not simply for who I am. That’s great for business – and business is getting better, but the emotional side of me suffers.

I don’t know how to let that part of me be free.  I’ve kept her hid for so long trying to protect her, that putting her back in her box is easy… way too easy. Every day it gets harder to try and balance the two, to make room for her, to believe she’s important.  She feels too much.  She wants too much.  She’s a naïve child who doesn’t understand and believes in stupid shit like love – believing it’s the answer to everything.  She believes in God, miracles, positive thinking, success and romance.  She’s got a big imagination, but her dreams torture the practical side of me, overwhelming me with faith and killing me with hope.  She’s the dreamer and I’m the one left to clean up the mess her dreams leave behind.

It was her dream I had this morning.  I want her to have it so bad, but I can’t give it to her. I can’t make it happen.  I can wipe her tears away when she wakes.

My dream, the practical side of me, is that tomorrow I’ll be strong again and forget this moment of weakness. It serves no purpose.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: Blog Post, Musing, Writing | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

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