Blogs are Heartbreak Warfare

While jogging tonight I suddenly was overwhelmed by emotion. A huge sweeping wave that I have been fighting; for how long who knows. Tears came streaming and I fought them, I fought the burn. I used the excuse of the cold night air and the fact I just sprinted three-quarters of a mile, the burn in my chest, the ache, just the run. Then I smelled manure. Yes, that is it, just the manure for the rye grass seed of the prima Donna yards of the Arizona winter.

The burn faded as I began to power walk and breathe swiftly, the manure had subsided, the wave was now a tsunami. What was this feeling, why the onset of sadness, the overbearing feeling of emotion beating at my chest, weighing on my heart and mind. I felt as my head were in a tailspin, my eyes gravitated to the night sky to gaze upon the stars to ease this ache. My iPod was shuffling songs with varying beats per minute to keep me in line with my jog when finally I was floored by John Mayer.

I had listened to the song many times before, not a problem. Suddenly this song meant so much more to me today, at this moment than it ever had before. I realized the pain I was feeling was that of the last year and most recent events in my and others lives. The cost was my emotional toll of all these events. So much of my own emotion has been laid ever so bravely, albeit sometimes foolishly (to always wear my heart on my sleeve), with my blog. I have watched others do the same. Most recently a mother who experienced the most horrific tragedy fell victim to more pain because of her choice to bravely share an experience, to avoid her solitary confinement of despair, shock, and grief. Others have been victim to bad blood of failed business relations, failed friendships, even families are ever divided. In some situations the division could equate to infamous literary feuds: Montague v. Capulet and Hatfield v. McCoy.

Each story a heart, each heart a soul, and for each soul is one person sharing his or her story. Most share the story out of love, the love of writing, the love of life, the love of children, the love of their story because so many feel their pain, their joy, whatever the distinguished emotion, their situation is not exclusive, and yet so often we look at the blog, the tweet, the update as true social media, notwithstanding the true MEDIA aspect of news. Our posts are not FOX news, a breaking story from CNN, but a simple soul, an individual sharing their love for their life and the experiences they share no matter how callous, heartless, devastating, shocking, appalling, or deplorable.

Our blogs, our updates, our Tweets have become quite literally, and thank you John Mayer, Heartbreak Warfare. Jealousy fuels because of the lack of PR exclusivity, bombs of hate between former friends (and family) who cannot come to civil terms, families feuding for lack of understanding, compassion is the last to be shared by those involved or by the trippers. I am truly saddened by the many events of this year; the loss of my grandfather, the deterioration of the relationship with my sister (which if you know me and my blog, I have always shared such a special love for her), the deterioration of my friend and her sisters relationship, friends driving knives deeper and deeper, people being petty, not wanting to eat crow, swallow pride for the sake of humility, maybe even an ounce of humanity, compassion. No one has to be the best of friends, but a bit of human compassion could be called upon, only more pain is what remains.

I leave you with the lyrics to this song that resonated such powerful emotions within me, also my farewell into the New Year as I reflect on the year that was, the year to come, and my hope for this holiday is that the ugly line to fade and people start crossing the lines into humanity, compassion, empathy.

Our blogs are not news, we are people, ALL of us. We all have a heart, a soul, we all feel at some level.

Lightning strikes
Inside, my chest to keep me up at night
Dream of ways
To make you understand my pain

Clouds of sulfur in the air
Bombs are falling everywhere
It's heartbreak warfare
Once you want it to begin,
No one really ever wins
In heartbreak warfare

If you want more love,
why don't you say so?
If you want more love,
why don't you say so?

Drop his name
Push it in and twist the knife again
Watch my face
As I pretend to feel no pain

Clouds of sulfur in the air
Bombs are falling everywhere
It's heartbreak warfare
Once you want it to begin,
No one really ever wins
In heartbreak warfare.

If you want more love,
why don't you say so?
If you want more love,
why don't you say so?

Just say so...

How come the only way to know how high you get me
is to see how far I fall
God only knows how much I'd love you if you let me
but I can't break through at all.

It's a heartbreak...

I don't care if we don't sleep at all tonight
Let's just fix this whole thing now
I swear to God we're gonna get it right
If you lay your weapon down
Red wine and Ambien
You're talking shit again, it's heartbreak warfare
Good to know it's all a game
Disappointment has a name, it's heartbreak warfare.

He Hung and Roped the Moon

The ache, the constant nag, the swollen, sore eyes. While I wish these were all signs of my allergies I am heartbroken, at a loss, a loss beyond all words. Some of you have probably read my sisters very lovely post and we share our loss.

My dear, beloved Rock of the family. My Grandfather.

My grandpa is, was, and will be the only man I know who could look at me and see right through me. He KNEW me! He loved me and I loved him beyond everything man, material, cosmic, and heavenly.

He led a very long, experienced and good life. He was born in Indiana if I recall correctly, he served in the Navy where he met his long time wife, love, and pain in his ass my grandmother. He would goat her like no one's business, life to him was to be enjoyed. They met when she was young, she was 16 and he was 23, and on a blind date, arranged by her friend. Grandma said it was love at first site! Grandma and Grandpa have five children, 10 grandchildren, and nine great grandchildren.

Grandpa loved life and said if life was not enjoyed by you, it was not worth living. He told me that once when I was a little girl when we were handling his horse and that statement has stuck with me ever since.

He had many horses actually. He is and was my original cowboy. If ever you thought of a cowboy he was THE ONE. Rough, soft hands, tall and lean, strong and wiry. He was stern and gentle, sweet and saucy, mean and quiet all at once. You could smell the sweat and dirt on his Stetson (I can still recall the smell to this day), manure and dirt on his boots, the smell of the warm denim of his jeans, the leather from his chaps and saddle, the smell of a pipe or a cigarette lingering in his shirt mingled with the warm smell of cologne, a Polo brand. He was something to be reckoned with and a sight to see. I have only seen him angry once and he was never a man to fear, he was a man who demanded a sort of respect I have not seen to this day.

Grandpa had a story for everything. He was the man of the hour to take you on his lap, tell you all you needed to know about baseball and basketball, Horses and cars, life, men, and women. He was so wise beyond his years. He was not perfect but he was perfect to me. He loved his family like none other, family is, was, and will always be his life. He was my life. I could spend hours staring into his bold blue eyes, the eyes that never faded or changed with age, they were electric, all knowing, all loving, and you could always see his spunk.

I carry an immense amount of guilt though with his passing yesterday (October 17, 2009). All week I meant to email my grandmother to find the right time to come see him where he would not be uncomfortable. His health had deteriortated rapidly from when I saw him at Christmas. So a visit would almost incapicitate him, so I wanted to schedule time where I would leave the kids at home. Where I could have time with him alone as I knew this would upset his schedule. I never sent the email. I never got to see him one last time. I am riddled with guilt, at a loss. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how he was my rock for the last 31 years, that I would be lost without him but I knew I would take his strength, his love to conquer all that I have. That because of him I have never lost sight, I always went for the impossible, I made the impossible possible because he knew I could do it. He told me never let anything get in the way of something profound and meaningful in your life.

Grandpa knew I had an unbridled fury for life and for exploring life. Grandpa and I were and are one in the same. We shared our secrets, he never judged and we knew how important we are and were to one another, how he still is my eternal love, he is the most genuine being I have ever met. Everything he said he meant, he used his words wisely. He taught me that I could be a lady, a girl, a woman, a mother, a tom-boy, and always be beautiful. He taught me to dance and to love Sinatra, he taught me to dance to Sinatra (Luck be a Lady) and the man could dance like a pro, as if he had clouds under his feet.

My dear Grandpa Dan, I know you are at peace, but selfish me wants you back, to give you your breath and take away the hurt and pain for one more day to spend with you, but in the words of Frank, you always did it your way!
I love you, your oldest Granddaughter, Kare Babe.

Not Feeling It

While I am suppose to be doing a Monday Mingle wich I was looking forward to doing this week....I am not feeling it. We were celebrating Grant's birthday today, even though it's tomorrow. But what's worse is we took our bulldog to the vet. Last time we took our dogs to the vet we have had to put them down. Each. And. Every. One of them. My husband's beloved Bulldog and my beloved Bassett.

So tonight, I wait by the phone. Tomorrow. I try to keep the happiest face as my oldest son celebrates six glorious years of his life while his best friend of the same age is at the vet, not here to celebrate with him. Which he wants more than anything.

I apologize....I am just not feeling it because my furry friends are just as much my family and I feel at a total loss. Afraid of the unknown, sad about what MAY come to pass. So I cannot put on a happy face and blog.

The Price Of Honesty

Funny about blogs. I have been reading all over about so many
bloggers celebrating their blog-o-versary.
Today was mine.

Silent hooray.

The only problem is that all day today I have been in damage control mode because I am a blogger of total and pure honesty. So much so that now my in-laws dislike me even more than they did before. I generated a post that created a LOT and I do mean A LOT of emotion, pure, raw honesty, pain, feelings, hurt, sadness, the whole gamut. I hurt feelings with the cold splash of truthful water being dashed in faces. I called out obvious truths that may not have been my place to call out, but I did so anyway. My only way of retraction and damage control is removal. Now.......I stand alone. On the anniversary of my blog.....crying, angry, upset that in the one place I found solace, the one place I had total control of my feelings, my words, my expressions, where I sought therapy, comfort from so many of my blog friends, and believe me you know who you are otherwise I will be here all night listing you and then emailing back and forth, I am afraid to speak my truths, to share my voice, the voice so many of you applaud for boldness, for the intensity of being HONEST and open, and unafraid. I now am afraid to write.

I write this post with the heaviest heart, at a cross roads of "to blog or not to blog" on the night of my blog anniversary. With no celebration. No fantastic giveaway or review to share today (which I so desperately want to do), not even a witty story to share about the kids or myself.

I truly felt this was my one safe place....to share with my friends. The REAL LIFE shit. No bullshit, no filler, no effing sugar coated candy shit. This is my LIFE! For all the crap that exists, for all the happiness I experience, the pain I feel, the sadness, the loss, the comedy, the tragedy, the fun, the highs, the lows, this is life from every aspect. But now I am paying the price.

My life has always been hard work. And I guess I was delusional enough to think that the price of maintaining a blog with the pure honesty that people, including myself, love, live, and thrive for is too heavy of a price. I am lost. I am not wanting to blog when I want to, when I feel I have an obligation based on my agreements, when so much to be said cannot for fear of retaliation for sharing MY FEELINGS, MY THOUGHTS, MY WORDS, on MY BLOG!!!

I found I have readers who remain anonymous, for what reason I do not know. I have readers I did not know I had or lied about knowing that I write, and I write in a very open forum. But it's those readers that are pulling me away from my light. The darkness pulling me in which makes me sad because this is my light, my place, but I am being moderated.

I HATE BULLSHIT MODERATION!!!
..l..

This comment by a woman who hit the nail on the head is why I am lost and sad as what to do:

"I'm so glad that you put the post back up.
This is your blog and your voice. You should never give that up for anyone."

So why do I feel like I do have to give up?
Where is the line between compromising and giving up or giving in?
So lost.........