Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

If I Let You In, Would You Accept Me? March 2, 2014

Filed under: about me,all,anxiety,journal,musings,personal,picture,quotes — rainey46 @ 1:11 pm
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This is so true. I wish I felt comfortable enough with someone, ANYONE, to let them see into my heart. I am very laid back and tolerate of others’ differences and ‘uniqueness’ because that is how I wish people were with me.

 

Unseen Burdens October 13, 2013

We all carry unseen burdens. Some hide their burdens very well, and you never know they exist. On the outside, these people seem to have it all, and many around them are envious. They look at their own flawed existence, and wonder why they cannot have that beautiful life.

I’ve lived on both sides. I was once the envied one, not because my life was perfect, but because I hid the flaws so well. I’ve also looked at others and wished I had their life. I’ve lived and experienced enough now, though, to know better. I have my set of problems, just like everyone else. None of us have it all figured out; we are all swimming in our own sea of doubts, fears, and sadness.

I no longer waste time feeling jealous of others. I also no longer hide the flaws of my world. It could be better, but it could be worse. I try to face my personal demons with humor. When depression sets in, I lay low and wait it out. When the good times come back, I live them fully and ride the wave of happiness as long as I can. When Bipolar Betty takes over my daughter, I help her through what I can, and remind myself it is the disease, not my daughter, acting and talking. We hold on tightly, and make it through together, as a family.

This is my life. These are my burdens. Don’t be jealous of me, and I won’t be jealous of  you.

 

Embrace Your Weird September 8, 2013

We are all weird. Although we all start the same way, when Mr. Sperm meets and greets Ms. Egg, somewhere along the way we each develop in our own uniquely weird way.

As small children we have some weirdness that begins to show. Some, as toddlers, run around in full naked glory and refuse to put on clothing. Some eat weird food concoctions, or only eat one or two foods. Young children don’t mind being weird because they mostly only think of themselves. But soon, they grow up and become…TEENAGERS. Teenagers thrive on being the same as everyone else. Anything that makes them different must be hidden at all cost. Some people get stuck in this mindset and spend the rest of their lives hiding their weirdness and trying to live exactly like everyone else. They are the ones who will never fully develop their own hidden potentials because they are too busy trying to be normal.

Being weird is not a bad thing. In fact, I am here today to celebrate my own brand of weirdness. It is my weirdness that makes me who I am. My weirdness factor sets me apart from every other person living on my street or in my town. I am uniquely me, and proud of it!

Here are several weirdness factors about me:

1. When I am following directions, I visualize a birds-eye view of the area roads. I am good at finding my way around, but not good at telling someone else how to get there because no one understands my way of seeing it.

2. I hate, truly hate, shopping. I am a rare breed of woman who would never set foot in a store OF ANY KIND if I had a choice. I don’t like buying clothes, shoes, household items, gifts, groceries, or any other necessities of life. I do love online shopping for things, though. Why? Because I can find unique items that no one else will have.

3. I love singing in my car. I have a 30 minute drive to work and I spend most of the time singing at the top of my lungs. (I am not very good, but I don’t care!) I don’t look at other people or cars, so I could care less what they think. The other thing I do in my car is talk. To myself. Out loud. Sometimes very animated.

4. I am artistic just to be artistic. I create what I want to create. Most of my work is sitting in my studio in piles. I get people who ask me all the time to paint certain things, but that is not how I work. I stare at the canvas (or wood, or whatever) and let it tell me what it needs to be. Anything else is forced. The same is true of poems or stories I write. I cannot pre-plan; it becomes what it was meant to be.

5.  I count colors. When sitting in a waiting room, or standing in line, I look around and see the different colors of all the people and objects. I then count the colors that touch one another. No color can be repeated. This is a game I started as a young child when I had trouble falling asleep at night. It soothes me, even now.

These are only a few of the many, many ways I am weird. How are you weird? What makes you a wonderfully flawed and beautiful human? Embrace your own weirdness, and share with me!

 

Different Doesn’t Mean Wrong August 12, 2013

Why is there so much hatred in the world for anyone or anything “different” from the norm? Do we really want a world filled with carbon copies of bland sameness? I think fear plays a role; many fear what they don’t understand. But it goes so much deeper than that. The old “Survival of the fittest” instinct kicks in, even in this day and time. For some reason, things that make us “different” are viewed as weaknesses. In reality, it is often those differences that make a person a survivor. These differences bring us, as humans, forward as a race. Without these wonderful differences and the unique qualities of people, we would not have the scientific genius of Einstein, the artistic genius of Van Gogh, or the mental genius of Aristotle.

I remain hopeful that the internet, yes, the great World Wide Web, will help erase the stigma of different. The web allows humans to connect in ways we never imagined. It is doubtful that I could ever afford to travel to Uganda and share ideas, but here, on the ‘net, I can do that with a few strokes of my fingers. I can get the opinion of  a sassy Colombian lady who lives in Canada, or check in on life in the United Kingdom. Do these online friends have different opinions than mine? Yes, sometimes they do. Do they have different experiences, heartaches, triumphs? Certainly. I learn so much from their thoughts and adventures! I see the uniqueness of each of them and I feel blessed that they share that uniqueness with me and the rest of the world. Perhaps, one day, we can learn to celebrate those qualities that make us each uniquely human.

 

 

Time For Big Girl Panties July 8, 2013

Okay, I’m putting on my big girl panties. It’s time to get back  up, brush myself off, and give this life of mine another shot. I may be down, but I am never down and out for long.

It doesn’t mean I’m not still hurting; I am, believe me. I still hurt in my heart every single day for Riley. I still hurt for J and all of her problems. But I cannot function this way for long. I am, by nature, a very upbeat person. I see the beauty in small, everyday things. As bad as my life seems to get at times (lately it has been very bad) I must find the good and rise above it all.

I still feel depressed. It is not the overwhelming, clinical depression I sometimes feel (Thank God)! When the clinical depression is out of the picture, I can overcome. It is just a matter of my mindset and my attitude.

So today, I choose to live and be happy.

 

Different June 22, 2013

I am different. Yes, I know, we all are. I guess I should say I am VERY different from others. By “others”, I mean people my age. I don’t have a problem with it, though. It is just a fact.

But then, I’ve always been different. As a very young child, I lived more in my imaginary world than I did in the real world. I didn’t have any friends who lived nearby, and I grew up in a time before play dates and “Mommy and Me” outings. My two best friends were my imagination and my dog. I had friends in school, but no one I even remember well.

Fast forward: teen years. I suffered typical teenage angst, along with the shameful taste of molestation. I was rebellious; hell, that’s putting it mildly. I was sexually promiscuous and without limits. If there was a way to get high, I did it. I “tried on” various groups; you know, the jocks, the nerds, etc. as I searched for a way to be accepted. Truthfully, the only group who came close to feeling right was a group of misfit druggies. They weren’t the  hip stoners I thought were so cool in their total disregard for authority, but just a motley crew of kids from bad homes, or kids who struggled in school and turned to drugs to make it hurt less. They were a sad lot, but they accepted me. But even then, they knew, and I knew, I didn’t fit in. For one thing, I was too smart. I could easily make A’s without trying, so I failed on purpose. Another problem was I came from a good home. By this time, my dad worked his way up and brought our little family out of hovering above poverty to solid middle class. I had both parents and a nice house in a good neighborhood.

Fast forward: meeting my husband. When I met my husband, I left behind my old group of friends and hung out with his friends. The sad thing is, none of my old friends missed me and I didn’t miss them. My new friends liked me and accepted me into the group. Well, the men did. I was still reckless and a tomboy, willing to try new things. I played ball, went fishing, rode motorcycles, and would do almost anything on a dare. The girls of the group took a while to like me and accept me, but they did eventually. My husband loved the wild side of me, but he ignored anything he didn’t like. The molestation?  The gang rape? I told him about it and he pretended it didn’t happen. I mentioned it years later, and he seemed shocked. We all bury our heads in the sand, I suppose. Anyway, they accepted me, but I still felt different, like an outsider allowed to come inside for a bit.

So, you see, being different is no big deal to me. At this stage in my life, I am comfortable being me (most of the time). I no longer try to conform to what society or, even forbid, the neighbors. I have friends, but most of them are much younger than me. (Does that make me immature? Probably. Do I care if I am immature? Of course not…haven’t you been paying attention??) The only people I really spend time with are my two daughters and my husband.

It is at times like this, when I my heart is breaking, that I wish I had the type of friends who would come and get me to shake me out of my misery. When I suffer inside because of J’s bipolar/addictions, or when bad things happen in my life, I really have no one to turn to. Sometimes the price I pay for being different is steep.

 

Quirky and Proud May 27, 2013

Filed under: about me,all,blogging,quotes — rainey46 @ 12:51 pm
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The older I get, the more I let my quirkiness show. I no longer care what anyone thinks about me. I am an original, and I am proud of it! Lovin’ my life!

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Sunday Morning Update on the Family May 26, 2013

Happy Sunday morning! It is early morning here as I sit on the porch and drink my second cup of coffee. It’s a “linger and take small sips” kinda morning. The sun is shining but there is a cool crispness in the air. I hear the crow of the neighborhood rooster in the distance. He seems to insist for you to get up and start the day. A morning dove calls her lonely song out and other birds chirp “good mornings”.

I love that it is never quiet in the early morning hours. The sounds of nature put me at ease.

I haven’t done an update on my life in a while, so….

I’ve dealt with much anxiety in the past month, mostly over things of my own doing. <Heavy sigh.> Will I ever be able to stop making my own life hard? On a better note, school is out in 2 weeks and I will be home for a little while. I’m excited to have time to get a few things done for me. I’m no longer waiting for Hubs to do things, because it never happens. So, I will do it myself.

I’m not a church goer, so I will spend my day doing all those things that don’t get done during the workweek. Also, I don’t think I shared some wonderful news: my daughter S and her partner E just bought a house! It’s a cute old  house in the historic section of town. We are busy helping them move this weekend. It fills my heart with joy to see her so happy taking this step. To think she is only 24! She is so traditional in everything she does (except of course she happens to be gay.) I hope the wanderlust that plagues me never gets into her heart.

I also have exciting news about J (my daughter who has an eating disorder, bipolar, and anxiety issues). SHE STARTED BACK TO COLLAGE! She took the steps she needed to do to get financial aid and sign up for the courses she needs. The classes are online and she started this week. She has made an “A” on every assignment so far! I am so proud of her for doing this. She’s dealt with some strong anxiety in the process, but she did it.

My heart is full of pride and happiness for both of my girls.

 

 

Gypsy Vs. Small Town Me March 30, 2013

I am so restless. I itch to make things happen, and yet I do nothing. Is it because I am scared? Is it because I am just a lazy dreamer? Is it because I don’t know how to start? I don’t really know.

Am I destined to live my life with this restless spirit, or is there some way I can live this life I have and satisfy my desire to wander? It is like I am two people in one: one reliable person who is the wife and mother living in Small Town, USA. This person baked cookies, made homemade jelly, coached softball, and taught all the neighborhood kids how to create awesome science projects. She desired a house with a big yard and traditional furnishings. She is the good wife, daughter, and mother. The other person inside of me is a gypsy. She doesn’t care about social norms; she lives by her own set of rules. She believes in the spiritual goodness found in nature. Her one desire is to wander the earth to see all there is to see. Her life is found in a traveling caravan. She creates beautiful things just for the sake of beauty.

I know we all have different parts of our personalities, but mine seem to be constantly waging war with one another because they are polar opposites. The older I get, the more Gypsy me tries to take over. It’s like I have been what society expects me to be for as long as I could, and now I feel restless and rebellious to let the ‘real’ me take over. I want to see things, do things, have experiences that Small Town me could never do. Some times I am disgusted by what I allowed myself to become, because it is not the me I hold in my heart.

So, do I just walk away from this life? How do you walk away from a family that  you love? YOU DON’T! So how do you find a peaceful way to allow the Gypsy me to be satisfied without harming the people and life I led? I feel selfish just THINKING these thoughts; I lived my life putting my family before me. I have much to be thankful for; please know I am not complaining nor do I take what I have for granted. I just know this restlessness is not going away…it is growing stronger day by day.

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My Perception March 4, 2013

We all live in our own individual realities.  What we think, what we feel, what we perceive: that is truth. It doesn’t matter if it really is true; if we believe it, it is true in our own small worlds.

I keep coming back to this thought: “Perception is reality.”  Can we change our own reality by changing our perception? Can we create the world we want, the world we need, by changing how we view things around us?

It sounds too simple, but I think there is some truth there. Take this situation, for example. A coworker was very stressed out last week. When I approached her with advice on some changes she needed to make at work (part of my job is to give feedback), she bit my head off and tried to make my life miserable. I allowed her to get under my skin. I felt attacked and began to doubt the advice I had given. Suddenly I felt like “they” were all against me, and I felt very uncomfortable. My day was horrible. The next day, I made a decision to change my perception. I chose to remember she had a bad week and it wasn’t about me at all. I chose to ignore her verbal barbs and continue to do my job. Guess what? My day was not only better, but it was one of the best days I’ve had lately. What changed? She didn’t; she still went out of her way to be spiteful; she tried to get people on her side. The only thing that changed was my attitude. My perception of the situation.

Perception is reality. To improve my reality, I must improve my perception.