It's over

It's over. Two words. Technically a contraction of three words. Yet when you hear them they hit you like a ton of bricks. Even in those instances when it should be over; should probably have never started, it still smarts. It's like driving aimlessly. You aren't going anywhere but it's better than going home to an empty bed in an empty house.

It's over. Those words taste like failure. Just hearing them makes me want to take back all the things I said even if I meant them and they needed to be said. Perhaps it's my dysfunction rearing its head. The appeal of staying in something with no real benefit just to assure your self you're worthy. The truth is, no person defines our worthiness. However, that knowledge is cold comfort when you turn over and there's just the cool side of the mattress.

Maybe as enlightened as my outer adult is, my inner child is equally steadfast in maintaining the status quo. You'd think letting go would be easier when you didn't really have all that much to hold on to, in the first place. It's not. It's sadder even because I feel like I never got to prove myself. I never got the chance to show you how wonderful I am. Truth is it wouldn't have mattered but it would have been nice to trot it out and run it around the yard a couple of times. Rejection's a bitter curative but like castor oil it all works out in the end.

Fu Manchu and Middle Age

I'm getting ready to go out the other evening and I notice a hair on my chin. This is not uncommon for a woman of a certain age. I know that I am a certain age as I have crested the hill of 40 and am barreling down the other side. However with my age has come a degree of wisdom and comfort with myself. I understand more about my body. I'm secure in my sexuality and sensuality. I understand that there is more than enough of everything I'll need. So, like I said, I notice this hair. Now this isn't a soft downy hair but more of a Fu Manchu style whisker. So I'm thinking to myself. How do I not notice this? I look at myself everyday and I can't have become so complacent about my visage that I don't notice this. So I decide there's nothing to be done but pluck it out. Tweezers and alcohol and I'm good to go, you'd think. While the hair follicles on my head might be more forthcoming with the hairs than in my youth, my facial hair follicles have employed a new found strength, I wasn't aware of. I mean, I've been tweezing my eyebrows for a while so I have mastered the complexity of the tweezer, lest you think it was operator error. I rub the offending hair with alcohol to avoid infection and then grasp the firmly between the tweezer end and pull and out it will come. That is generally how this works. It's a thankless task. But no!!! Not only doesn't it plop out but the end of the hair breaks off so now I've got a stubborn short hair to try and pluck out. I won't bore you with the gory details, but suffice it to say it was a fight to the bitter end. Though, I prevailed. I got to thinking. This calls into question my initial take on a number of things. Namely the lovely gentleman who was talking to me and looking deeply into my eyes. Could it be he was looking intently at the hair instead? Now had it been placed circumspectly under my chin as most hairs are I would not have been so disheartened, but much like the wicked witch of the west, it flew freely and boldly on the chin. As with so many things, I have decided to take a philosophical approach to what may be an impending beard. I am not okay with the hair but resigned to the fact that while age brings with it wisdom, body acceptance and a new found appreciation of oneself, it also brings some other not so appealing things. I won't go into them, because the women who are dealing with them, already know what they are. A lot of you reading this may think I should not share this type of information with men. Whyever not? Though they may not share. they too have some stuff going on that they'd rather not think about. My thinking is this is the package that God has given me. It is fearfully and wonderfully made and I am thankful for it, Fu Manchu whisker and all.

Surviving Life's Transitional Moments
Job losses, layoffs, deaths, the end of relationships are all times of profound transition in our lives. How do we get past the changes and move forward in our lives.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1702395/surviving_lifes_transitional_moments.html

National Poetry Month: You - Free Verse
It's the last day of National Poetry Month. We have been charged with the task of writing free verse. My chosen mode of writing. Hope you enjoy
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1700793/national_poetry_month_you_free_verse.html