Category: Personal

Pruning

About two years ago, I was an intern at a private horticulturist for literally one day. Bluebird Growers; I love blue birds, I love plants, I had a little time to spare and I wanted to work on my green thumb. I figured “why not?”

There was one single lesson that I remember from that day and it applies to life as much as plants. It took me until the far side of my 30th birthday to be able to understand the teaching.

The lone scientist and I were pruning lavender, mint, and a few other herbs. Trimming away the discolored leaves and buds, he began to explain how these part suck life from the plant. He said that the plant will produce new growth regardless as long as it has sun and water. However, if we remove the ailing parts, then the plant can harness this energy in a more positive, productive manner.

The most important lesson that I must currently learn is to simply trust the journey. When we release the parts that we are fighting to hold on, we realize that fighting wastes energy, even if it’s in the name of something we perceive as positive.

Trust the journey. Let it be. Que Sera, Sera!

“Done is better than perfect.”

Thank you, Libby from 2-D Design for that advice; I don’t think you know how tightly I will forever hold onto that little gem.

It is my new worry stone, tucked deep into the miniature watch pocket of my favorite faded blue jeans.

When I am doubtful, unsure, and feel like I can’t meet my own goddamned unreasonable expectations, I pull this pale little gem out (in my mind’s eye) and run my fingers over the smooth surface of it’s comfort.

“Done is better than perfect.”

Most people won’t even take the time to do the damned thing. It’s the same sentiment as “You’re lapping everyone who is on the couch.”

Just doing it is the battle.

Do what you can. Do your best. And move the fuck on. 

 

A break-up note: A note on a break-up

To Tyrell:

I have loved you like I have never loved another. For years I waited and waited on you to figure out your issues with addiction so that we could progress in our relationship. You won the battle against opiates and I will forever respect you for it. I have learned so much from you. You know most of the best and worst parts of me. I will always care for you and love your heart and soul. I will always wish the best for you. I will always be your friend. I will always be there if you need an ally.

The time has finally come for our paths to part. In the end, we want different things. I’m not endgame for you. Go find your, Rachel. I’ll find my Ross.

Sincerely,

Amber

_____________________________________________

 

Yo! I finally fucking did it!

I couldn’t change my mindset, so I changed my situation! Holy shit!

It wasn’t easy. It felt good, then bad, then good again, then awful, and now I can’t believe that it took me so damned long.

I could layer on some bullshit about how Ty and I didn’t communicate well… how we drifted apart. But that would be vague and unclear. And I’m a truth teller. So the truth is that he is in a sea of depression soaked whiskey, swirling down the drain of self-pity and isolation. He doesn’t think he wants any more kids unless it just happens and isn’t sure about marriage. I don’t want to “trap” someone into a future with me.  I don’t want a life pickled in a whiskey bottle. Then he had this weird almost kind of a thing with some lonely hoe and that was pretty much all she wrote. I knew I had to get out of there.

So I moved to the beach, getting closer to the ocean hoping that the salt air would dry the fresh wounds on my heart. 

I feel calmer now. I feel freer. I feel like I am getting back to the things that make me happy. I am gardening and organizing and painting furniture and walking my dog to the beach and spending time contemplating the meaning of life while staring out over the thundering ocean. I am painting my toenails once a week. I’m ingesting more water and fruits and veggies. I am living more. I am working harder. I am drinking less.

I am excited for all that is to come.

_____________________________________________

 

P.S. Ty considered cheating on me with a trash bag named Rachel (who knew me and acted kind to my face) right there at the end which is why the last line of my break-up note is so goddamned good to me and probably under-appreciated by you.

XX

 

needs.

I need to focus on my own demons.

I need to stop wallowing in self-pity and sloth and get motivated towards the future.

I need to let go of worry, anxiety, and self-defeating doubt.

I need to accept that failure is not only a possibly, but an inevitability.

I need to grasp that failure is no failure if I have grown and learned.

I need to breathe in the joy of life around me.

I need to remember that I am but one expression of the human experience.

I need to acknowledge that I am always both alone and in a crowd.

I need to absorb something good for my mind.

I need to move, groove and shake a little something on my body.

I need to appreciate my friends and family more.

I need to meditate on uplifting thoughts for my soul.

I need to put positive action into work.

I need to find something to give me back my spark for life.

I need some serious soul searching, therapy,  and meditation.

I am a flake.

So in case my posts haven’t demonstrated for you, allow me say it:

I AM A FLAKE.

Or at least that is how it seems from the outside… but, in all honesty, it’s more like I am constantly evolving or shifting my perspective and ideas.

My opinions and thoughts behave like water; they ebb and flow with my moods. Some are unyielding ice while others are quickly fleeting steam.

(Also, I have these mad depressive episodes which prohibit me from normal human contact due to wild amounts of anxiety.)

Plus, I am kind of a flake… so what?!

Hoping to be back sooner than last time!

(but not promising anything because I refuse to give you anymore fucking ammunition to call me a flake… okay?!?)

Just kidding.😉

💘- AM

I, the Ceramateur

I have found a new passion.

I am in love with ceramics. I can’t get enough.

I do extra projects at home just to try my hand at a new form.

After my introduction to hand building ceramics about three months ago, I knew that I had found a new obsession that will forever be part of my life; daily if I can help it. I’ve dove in head first and elbow deep, spending countless hours researching multiple modern ceramic artists for inspiration.

I personally try to create art with humor. I enjoy surrealism, especially grotesque and odd, figurative sculptures. I like modern & strange works of art, some are daunting, some are whimsical; all have a surreal feel about them.

 

 

Dear Stranger, apologies

from me to you.

It seems that the only time that I want to talk to you is when my life is awry and I need the open ear of no one and everyone all at once.

I am a mess.

Do I tell you that I have been trying to find the right anti-anxiety medication for weeks since complications with my usual one and now it just feels like a really fucked up guessing game?

My 4.0 GPA is waving goodbye as my social anxiety sets in making my ADD less manageable, my work less quality and my attendance less likely. I have spent the whole class period in the parking lot of the school with my hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel unable to convince myself to enter the building. I find every reason to put off the assignments until sheer panic sets in and I frantically try to come up with something that looks presentable.

But then I should be doing homework right  now, shouldn’t I?  😳

I am new.

It has been so long since I’ve written that it feels like I have lived a hundred lives & changed a thousand times.

My opinions on life and love and hate and drugs and mental illness and sanity and God and the universe and my past and my future all seem to ebb and flow unruly as the sea.

Today I am new. Today I am different. I may not always make new choices, but how I think on them will be.

Each grain of sand collecting together, building what will have been my life.

 

Bad Choices

Why do we knowingly make self-defeating decisions?

Is it the comfort in the disappointment?

That old familiar friend, self-hate

waiting within our ear to whisper,

“Why not? You know you want to. You might as well. You are already thinking it.”

So you do.

Acting as though you are more clever than poor choices,

while you make them.

And then afterwards

that same voice hisses,

“You fool. You knew better. Aren’t you smarter than that?”

On Speaking Terms

We spoke today for the first time since we parted ways.

Your voice sounded smooth- rich and velvety as it always has- but it sounded younger today.

Your deep, southern drawl and slow pace of speech made the words bend and last forever.

Oh, how I’ve missed your voice.

I miss the comfort within each drawn out syllable.

I missed the way it danced on the drums of my ears sending my heart into a frantic rhythmic beat.

I miss the kindness behind each well thought out sentence.

“Friends?”

We agreed. We lingered.

And I let you go.

As I will have to do each morning when I wake thinking of your smile and each night when I go to sleep dreaming of your kiss.

Friends until the end.

The Journey

You have to go alone.

No one will be with you through all of the trials.

No one can fight your battles and win your victories.

No one could ever complete it the way that you will.

Many will pass by like glimpses through your peripheral.

Many will accompany and guide you along the way pointing you in directions.

Some will start a fire within you that takes you on turns that you never expected.

Some will try to extinguish your light so that theirs may shine brighter.

Some will come along and attempt to rekindle your lost flame.

Some will succeed.

Some will fail.

All will impact you, one way or another, for better or worse.

But no one will stay through it all.

They can’t.

They have their own road to take.

So be brave and be bold.

Do not fear.

Do not try to control it.

Embrace what you have been given and make the most of it.

It is all any of us can do,

on this journey.

 

 

What is the big GOD-DAMNED deal?

I am so tired of being chastised for that word.

Goddamn. Goddamned. Goddamns. Goddamnit.

I am not damning God.  I love God. Or the universe or whatever that essence is.

I use it out of frustration…  as in, “God, if there is a hell, send this __________ there.”

I am asking for his help with smiting. I am not angry AT him. I am angry WITH him.

Why is that so hard to understand? Especially if I were praying to the Christian God… isn’t that his jam? Paying back those who won’t accept him?

sigh.

It is 1:00 in the morning and I am only on my 5th Orange Henry’s Hard Soda. My buzz is barely stable, if you can even call it a “buzz”.

I’m not pissing and moaning about Ty so that is a good start but is religion any better?

 

I did get invited to a party tonight, so that was fun…

Cassidi & I showed up at like 10:30- which is when the “par-tay” usually gets “krunk” (or do they not use that one anymore?😬) Anyways, once we arrived we quickly realized that we were nearly a decade older than everyone there… which means that more than likely there was some underage drinking…

…so we boot-scoot and boogied our way out of there and back to my madre’s hizzy to kick it with her and chillax for the night. (Don’t I sound cool?)

 

Bedtime. 🌙 1:52 AM

 

It has been three weeks.

Three weeks ago today, I walked out of your front door with two bags of clothes, my dog, and what tiny bit of dignity I had left.

I wish I could say that it was easy. I wish I could say that I am sure that this is what I want. I wish I could say that I will replace you. But I can’t say any of that just yet. So I won’t.

I can say that I am happier now. I don’t feel as mentally weighed now. I want to love myself now. I didn’t care to before.

Since we have parted ways, I have went to see my primary doctor and my therapist (which I haven’t seen either in three years prior), I have set up a full schedule of six classes (most taken yet) for the Fall semester (while maintaining my current 4.0), and I have gotten a part-time job.  I haven’t found an apartment yet. I haven’t saved enough to make a move. But I am hopeful and trying.

I wonder how you are and how you have been. I want to talk to you so much that it makes the lump in my throat ache and the knot in my stomach swell. How do you feel being surrounded by me? All of my stuff is still strewn about your house.  We haven’t spoken since two days after, when you said you were happier this way. We haven’t spoken of my things or when or where I will move them. I just don’t know yet. So we won’t talk until I do.

I am currently living with my mother for the first time since I was seventeen. I am sharing a room with my little sister. We are all getting along better than I ever expected. I am grateful. I am humbled. I am loved.

But I am also impatient. I want progress. I want to move forward. I want to be past this part, past this chapter where I am hurting. Growing pains, we will call them. I am ready to start loving myself.  Where to begin?

 

 

“More Fucked Up Than a Soup Sandwich”

So I saw my therapist yesterday.

It has been nearly 3 years since I have sat on that couch. And she said so many things. So may brilliant and scary things. Words like General Anxiety Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, ADHD,  and Codependent are still floating through my mind.

Just a ball of nerves or General Anxiety? Just bad dreams or PTSD? Just spinning wheels or ADHD? Just helpful or Codependent?

Yeah right.

There is no fucking getting out of that last one.  It took very little research to know that she was right. When she said the word “Codependent”, I was like, “Shit. you got me. Finally one that I can’t talk myself out of.”

The following is from Mental Health America.Net

(original post here: http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/co-dependency)

“Co-dependents have low self-esteem and look for anything outside of themselves to make them feel better…They have good intentions. They try to take care of a person who is experiencing difficulty, but the caretaking becomes compulsive and defeating. Co-dependents often take on a martyr’s role and become “benefactors” to an individual in need.

The problem is that these repeated rescue attempts allow the needy individual to continue on a destructive course and to become even more dependent on the unhealthy caretaking of the “benefactor.” As this reliance increases, the co-dependent develops a sense of reward and satisfaction from “being needed.” When the caretaking becomes compulsive, the co-dependent feels choiceless and helpless in the relationship, but is unable to break away from the cycle of behavior that causes it.”

This basically just described the relationship that I was just in that just ended. He started as  a drug addict.  I was his martyr. I “saved” him. And it just didn’t work. It didn’t work for either of us.

And here I am, still acting like a little bitch when I know that it wasn’t a healthy relationship…

Get over it, Amber!

My therapist thinks I shouldn’t date until I get these dependency issues worked out. She said I was allowed a “fuck buddy” but I know that I can’t separate love and sex so that just doesn’t jive with me. Time to invest in some batteries…

I am not going to miss you tonight.

I told myself I wouldn’t. I know that I shouldn’t. I am where I am supposed to be. I have been more productive in the last three weeks than I have been in the last three months. I finally feel free to be happy again. I finally don’t feel like a nagging bitch all the time. I feel useful and creative again.

So why do I miss you so much?

Why do I wish you would just call and say you were wrong.

Could you be wrong?

That isn’t possible, is it? For you to be wrong about being in love with someone?

You know when you can’t live without someone.

And you are.

Living.

Without me.

And you are happy, I suppose.

I should be, too.

So why am I not?

Brain, please don’t dream of him tonight.  Eyes, please don’t search for him tonight. Arms, please don’t reach for him tonight. Heart, please don’t hurt for him tonight.

💔