Pocket Full Of Sunshine

This last week has been tremendous in so many ways.
Mourning Danger's death has been made so much easier in having Bright Eyes beside me.
The memorial service was today, and I cried.
And I cried.
And I cried.
Through the entire thing.
I can't say I'm shocked that I cried, but the amount of tears that flowed were more than I could have ever expected, and more than I think I've ever cried in front of anyone in my entire life- never mind in front of a hall of people.
I feel guilty. I feel like his death could have been prevented had we married as we'd planned, and had he had the insurance he would have had because of that. I don't doubt he knew it was coming, which pains me, but I wonder if the end of our relationship had any part in his letting go. It breaks my heart and pains me deeply and has changed me forever.
I felt like a total outsider today, knowing quite a few people, but knowing none of them well.
I can't help but wonder if he ever felt this way.

I can see without trouble that God brought Bright Eyes and I back together when he did because of exactly this. We leaned on each other through the mourning process, and continue to do so, though this situation did not cause our bond. Danger's death has brought us so much closer, as we both knew him, and felt a great deal for this man.
Bright Eyes and I are extremely close, and I now know that he is my soul mate, and that we will be together for good this time around. Things may take some time, but I can be patient. I have no interest in dating anyone else. He bought me a promise ring, which I am amazed and astounded by, and we agree on more than I ever could have expected. I've been around the world, dated people of all races and religions, and came home to fall in love with my high school sweetheart. He has known me since I was 13 or 14, and loves me because of and in spite of all the faults, flaws and bad choices I've made. He's lived in Maine his entire life- something I simply cannot imagine. He's my partner, my balance, my rock. My love for him is unending, and I have every intention of marrying him when the time comes. We've discussed everything- his beautiful, brilliant little girl especially- and have a direction we'd like to work, but, obviously, Angel Eyes is priority across the board, and I am in the same place with that as he is.
Dragon Lady, Bright Eyes' ex-wife, is obviously and visibly displeased that he has now moved on, despite her current actions reflecting strongly that she moved on quite some time ago. She has pumped Angel Eyes for information, which bothers me, and made a point of standing too close to Bright Eyes today, putting her hand on the small of his back. This is the first time since the divorce she's behaved like this, and I'd love to say I didn't see it coming. Bright Eyes is an amazing man, and it's always hard to realize someone you loved is capable of loving someone else, and even harder to realize that person you loved is happier loving someone else. I refuse to let her get to me, and smile and remember my manners at all times in dealings with her. Her father is quite nice, and was a pleasure to talk to earlier, despite glaring looks from his daughter. I introduced myself to her and complimented her on the beautiful, smart child that is her daughter the first time I was introduced to her (despite knowing who she was for over a decade now) and refuse to lose my manners or bearing because of her lack thereof. I know we can overcome all of this given the chance.

FOCUS!

I made it to Underland without anything I couldn't handle coming up.

I narrowly made my last flight because of a delay on the second flight, and my luggage apparently wasn't so lucky. It's been amazing to get to spend time with Bright Eyes after so many years, and I am even more in love than I could have known. This man is all there is for me.

His daughter, Angel Eyes, is wonderful, and we get along incredibly well. She'll be 5 next month, and I am absolutely astounded by how smart she is, and she has fantastic manners. Right now she is getting the rest of the splinter Bright Eyes and I managed to get about three-quarters of out. It absolutely kills me to hear her cry like that, and, after the first round of splinter-removing- and having to hold her down- I was ready to cry.

I should explain I was a nanny for some time for two little girls. I went through a lot with them, and absolutely adored them. Never, though, in all the years I cared for them, did I find myself crying at their tears.

Life, Death, Love And Faith

As I'm sure I've made evident, Bright Eyes has been my saving grace through the grieving process, these last few days. I will see him in less than 20 hours for the first time in 10 years, and my heart swells with anticipation and joy. At some point, being able to talk to a man about God became a prerequisite for a relationship. It seems obvious now, but it was a much bigger leap than it might sound. I think the conversation Bright Eyes and I had about God was the turning point in our friendship.

I am positive that Bright Eyes is my soul mate. I'm not sure I ever truly believed that such a thing existed before him, though I always liked the thought. It's an amazing thing to instinctively trust someone who hurt you years ago. We were high school sweethearts- it seems we both noticed one another at the same time, and, undoubtedly, we were both going through quite a bit. It's really no surprise it didn't work out back then. A typical teenage boy who is still grieving the loss of his mother, a teenage girl with more issues than she could have been aware of, in a small town in Maine and no real life experience, well, that just isn't a recipe for a happy relationship. Separate the two for ten years, let them grow up and experience life and love, and drop 'em back together, well, it seems to work out a whole lot better.

Danger, well, there's no explaining how he will be missed. It's hard to say goodbye to someone I loved and intended to marry as a mutual friend becomes something more than a friend. It makes my heart heavy and mind confused as to how to balance it all. I am overjoyed that Bright Eyes and I have reconnected, broken-hearted that my dear friend of several years and almost-husband has passed, and incredibly grateful to God for bringing someone into my life who can be completely understanding and loving while helping me to grieve a man I loved. The thought truly blows me away and boggles my mind.

I smile at the thought of praying with him. This is the one thing that I have always wanted to be able to do with someone I married. Can I imagine it? Absolutely. It makes me smile because his ideas of God and faith seem to be so much like mine, and he asked me today to tell him more about the Baha'i faith, and it warmed my heart in ways I'm not sure I could fully explain. I look at my prayer book sitting in my backpack, ready to go in a few hours, and realize I have no worries about this discussion. While Ruhi is considered the way to learn to teach the Faith, it's always been so easy for me that the thought of teaching my... what is he? Other half? I don't know. Labels have seemed so unnecessary. Anyway, the thought of teaching Bright Eyes something of the Faith seems like instinct, something as simple as breathing. He reads my blogs, knows me intimately, and, well, my faith is such a smooth, easy part of who I am, that it seems like he must know a great deal more than he thinks.

It's taken me a lifetime to find my faith. I have believed the same thing for as long as I can recall. Growing up, I was surrounded by many faiths, and am still absolutely thrilled to learn something about a faith that I didn't know. I have always been pulled to it, and am just a little sad that there is no clergy position in the Baha'i faith- I think I'd love that job!

The people I have met in the Baha'i communities have been unlike any other "religious group" I've ever known. I have never felt like an outsider with the Baha'i community, and often find myself the center of attention, which I find hysterical. I have always been outgoing and a bit of a clown, but to find a place, especially amongst such a diverse group of people, where that personality of mine is so welcome is a wonderful experience. I have been told I was meant to be a Baha'i, that I am a natural, and that I've brought new life to the community. These are all overwhelming sentiments to me, as I haven't even been a Baha'i for six months yet! I suppose it may sound egotistical, but I really feel like these compliments, as big as they are, are true. I just feel so at home with the Baha'i community that I really feel like I am at my best with them.
I have so many overwhelming feelings tonight.

It is a bit after 2 in the morning, and I need to be up and moving in a few hours. I am terribly excited to see Bright Eyes, and possibly my brother while I'm there, and, at the same time, know I will fall to pieces once I make it to the funeral. There is no more denial once you see someone you love in a casket. I had a dream the other night that Jakey and Bright Eyes had to hold me up as I collapsed, when I saw Danger's body in that casket. I fear the amount of truth that might be hidden within this dream.

While I suppose this is quickly turning from post to full-on rant, I've got more thoughts floating around in my head tonight than I can settle.

Bright Eyes is showing me things about myself I didn't know. I thought I was incapable of true trust, and I trust him almost blindly. I can't imagine anything more wonderful than this. With my history of sexual trauma, sex has been something that's been incredibly confusing for me. I have struggled with it throughout my life. I remember being six years old and knowing things about sex that no six year old should know. I've struggled with understanding where boundaries should be, and have truly had a battle on my hands learning to recognize inappropriate intentions versus healthy ones. For so many years, this line was invisible to me. With Bright Eyes, though I have learned a great deal about recognizing intentions by this point, there has never been any question of sexual insinuation or intention. Our conversations mostly center on music or people we know, though often enough stray into topics like faith and global warming and the like, but never, it seems, has sex been a part of our relationship.

I'm plenty attracted to Bright Eyes- always have been. Physically, he is exactly what I find most attractive- dark hair, dark eyes, tall, solid build and a great smile. As a person, he continues to exceed not just my expectations but so many of my hopes, as well. He doesn't see his value, but I am insistent that I will not let him forget that I do. He writes more easily than he speaks, as do I, and he truly understands that some things I just will never have an easy time explaining aloud. He enjoys taking pictures, writing, loves nature, children, and is very much a family person. When I struggled with my sister, I worried that his opinion of me may change. I know how important family is to him, and I truly cannot imagine being okay with the interaction she and I had. He supported me, though, and genuinely understood where I was coming from. He reminds me of how highly he thinks of me each day, and it takes my breath away. I've been given plenty of compliments, but his never fail to wake up those darned butterflies that seem to be napping in my stomach between our conversations. I look at the picture he and his daughter took for me on the trampoline and I smile. How I can be so sure someone is mine is something I can't explain.

All at once, I don't need to explain what we have to the world but want to show him off. I want to get to take him to dinner with my brother and introduce them- I want people to see what I have! It is such an amazing feeling to know I could take him anywhere with me and feel totally at ease. I know he will flow from situation to situation comfortably and would never make me any less than proud of how he carried himself. I have no label for him- there's been no talk of boyfriend or partner, no lover or significant other... I haven't needed to tell anyone I was in a relationship, though I did make it clear to one male friend who walked the fine line that I was taken. This is such a beautiful feeling. He is more than 2,000 miles away, and will remain that far away for the foreseeable future, and I am at ease with that. Naturally, I want him close to me as soon as possible, but it's not a source of stress. I don't worry about what he's doing when I'm not talking to him, or who he's talking to.
*sigh* This is the good life.

Baha'i Blessings

Well, I'm flattered.
A fellow Baha'i, over at Baha'i Coherence, offered me a spot as a contributor.
I have followed Baha'i Coherence for quite some time, so coming across this comment, old as it was, was a huge compliment.
While it could easily be summed up that the reason I've just stumbled across this comment is due to my complete lack of knowledge in ways of alerts and Blogger, but it seems to me that things happen when they are meant to.
I've been struggling, since Danger passed away, to focus on my faith the way I should. I haven't been praying as much as I should, and have been struggling to even include Ocean references in my posts.
While I leave tomorrow to fly up to Underland and spend some time with Bright Eyes, and say goodbye to Danger, writing a bit for a specifically Baha'i blog, rather than just my own meandering thoughts, seems like it could help me get back on track a bit. I think, especially with my resounding negativity lately, this could be a true blessing.

Acceptance

I haven't cried at all today.
I'm not sure if I'm proud of myself for getting that under control, or confused that I don't feel worse, or disappointed in myself for taking out my frustration in other arenas.
My little sister (age 23) has never been my closest friend nor biggest ally.
I always thought it'd change, but it hasn't.
Today's series of emails accusing and attacking me because she had to find out my best friend died via Facebook really hit me hard.
After trying to point out to her that there was definitely a better means of going about, in her words, "making sure I was alright", and failing miserably at getting my point across, I finally snapped on her.
I told her a lot of things that had been bothering me for ages, and a lot of behaviors I was absolutely tired of. The girl doesn't know what it means to apologize. She's one of those people who can find an excuse for anything. She'd make a fantastic lawyer, if she'd just stick with something besides the bottle. She takes after Sunset (mom). The bottle is her best friend, the cure to everything, and there is nothing she does that she can't find an excuse for- she's apparently had a horrible life. She claims to have given up her childhood while I was being locked away with things I didn't have and heavily medicated for said things.
Any time anyone asks her for help, she gets very upset and tells us all that she's tired of being what keeps this family together, and tired of being the mediator.
Sounds like a tough job.
She doesn't respond to any question asked directly, but prefers the attack method.
Not once in a series of nine or ten emails did she ask how I was, but proceeded to berate me for not allowing her to check on me...
I'm trying to find my patience with her, but, repeatedly, I find that it is not at all as surprising that I keep minimal contact with my mother and sister.
I really want to have one of those families where people understand and listen to one another, but I can't hear that everything is my fault even one more time. I can't. I lost it on her today, and I'm not proud of that, but it hurts! I can't remember the last time we had a conversation that had nothing to do with money or blame, and I'm tired of having to cut conversations short just so they don't turn into full-blown arguments. I don't want to do this anymore.

If one of thy relations oppress thee, complain not against him before the magistrate; rather manifest magnificent patience during every calamity and hardship.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Baha'i World Faith - Abdu'l-Baha Section, p. 374)

How long should I go on trying to be patient, though? I have tried through the darkest times, I have held my tongue as she spoke of what a miserable life she had because of me, and my "problems". I have held my tongue as she and my mother spoke of how they'd never have a life because of having to take care of me, I held it through 9 weeks of withdrawals from medications I never should have been put on for things I had never been old enough to be diagnosed with, I held it through my mother telling me that having my tubes tied was still what was best for me because I clearly would be an unfit mother, through being told I'd never hold a job, through my mother telling me I'd never survive without the medications or her to take care of me, how I'd never be able to have a stable relationship, let alone get married and raise a family... I've held my tongue through walking in on my mother cheating on my disabled stepfather with his nurses aide across the hall from the bedroom he slept in. I held it through the money she asked from my father, even long after he paid off the last of the child support he owed. I held my tongue through all the realizations I made, the understandings I came to, the lessons I learned and the truths I saw. I held my tongue when I spoke to the ex-boyfriend she claimed was so abusive, and held my tongue when the truth dawned on me that he was never the one doing the hitting, or the drinking. I held my tongue through the years of her drinking, the years of midnight breakdowns.
I've held my tongue through three years of the Army, through one marriage and several relationships that were far more stable than anything she's ever known. I held my tongue through getting my driver's license when she told me I'd never be able to do it, and through the helping to raise two children when she told me I'd never even be able to raise my own. I held it through living in an apartment and paying my own bills, and now I'm holding it through the pain of nearly 25 years of being told I was a burden. What more am I to hold my tongue through?
The family unit is easily among the most important in the Baha'i faith, and in any community, but what is one supposed to do when the family unit is the most destructive force a Soldier in the US Army will ever come into contact with?

Sweet

Danger repeatedly told me I was the sweetest girl he'd ever met.
I guess I never fully understood it, but I'm learning, and learning to embrace it.
It's so odd when you see so many threads of your own life come together, and realize what a beautiful pattern they make, isn't it?

Bright Eyes has known Danger since he (Bright Eyes) was 15 years old. I wouldn't meet Danger for several more years, but we became pretty good friends pretty quickly when we did. Right now, I feel totally blessed to be able to say I was loved by him. Seeing all the people he touched blows me away, and makes me realize just how fortunate I was to be so close to him.

Bright Eyes and I went from just friends and former high school sweethearts to something more a couple days before Danger passed away. We both heard a lot more from him in those last couple days, as well. I'll avoid pointing out the guilt-factor questions that come along with that.

I will be heading up to the area tomorrow, as it is the wee hours of Saturday now. I will be staying with Bright Eyes.

I realized tonight, without a doubt, that I am falling in love with Bright Eyes. We were getting quite attached and close to one another before, and there is an undeniable spark between us that has never faded, but this all has made me realize that, even through the most trying times, we make a formidable team. We balance one another so perfectly. I have never felt like I didn't need to make myself known in someone's life before. I don't need him to call me his girlfriend, I don't need anything changed on his facebook, I don't need to know who he's hanging out with. I trust him fully, and have no doubt in my mind that he feels everything I do.

What's more, he makes me want to be that sweet girl Danger used to tell me I was. I'm not scared of loving this man. I want to love him. I want to be his dream come true, to take care of him any way I can, and to trust him to take care of me. I want whatever this life holds, whether there be more children involved or not, whether I stay in the Army for 20 years or get out early, even if it meant moving back to Underland. I surely do not miss that place- it's held so much pain for me. I could be happy there, though, should that be where this path leads.

It's not that I'm abandoning my own dreams- I'm still determined to become a nurse- it's simply that things become a bit more flexible when you see what really matters. Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans, no?

I lie here, a little astonished at all that has sunk in through these last few hours- I suppose it did take a bit of quiet time for it all to process after all- and find my peace. The morning will come soon enough, no doubt, and I have enough to accomplish in the next 24 hours that sleep will be essential.

I'll see you soon, Bright Eyes, and we can start our journey, and say our goodbyes to Danger, together.

"She's sweet like a hand full of aces." -Trace Adkins

Absolute Confusion

It hurts to have Danger gone.
I'm grateful to have Bright Eyes in my life.
I'm glad to be back near Tumbleweed, but am more and more concerned I don't have the patience I once thought I did.
I'll leave for the East Coast Sunday (the day after tomorrow) and be there until Friday, though I have yet to get a date on the funeral. I need to be near people that are going through what I'm going through, and that's about all that makes sense to me at this point.
My energy is shot, and I end up in tears every couple hours, it seems. Frustration is a sure path to a class three leak.
I feel empty, sad and angry. Then I feel fine. Rinse and repeat.

I'm wanting to focus on Bright Eyes, but I feel guilty doing so.
I try to pray, and it hurts.
I have to bite my temper when I talk to anyone but Bright Eyes, because, well, nobody else really seems to understand what I'm dealing with. Bright Eyes knew Danger, and has known me since High School, and was heavily involved in my life when Danger passed.
Tumbleweed is trying, but I'm more and more frustrated with him. Interactions with him seem to leave me either weeping or frustrated today, and I don't want that. I'm trying not to be too self-indulgent in these feelings, but I also don't want to end up damaging my relationships with my family, either.

I don't know where the line between right and wrong is when I feel like this.

Almost Lover

I met Danger when I was 19 years old, and married.
He was one of very few people who respected my marriage to a deployed Soldier unquestioningly. He was such an amazing friend. We'd stay up late at the tattoo shop, watching movies and cuddled up on the red leather couch. He'd listen to me rant and vent, and keep an eye on me when I drank. He was protective and caring. He loved me endlessly, and I don't doubt that now. In so many of his emails he says I was the sweetest girl he ever knew, though it would probably take hell and high water to convince me I was ever sweet. I loved him, and looked up to him in ways that I never have anyone else. It took me until the same day he died to understand how much he kept inside. The email I sent him told him that if he wanted to be married again, he was going to have to learn to trust someone on the level of emotional intimacy. He had been a rock star for so long, he had gotten quite comfortable with his image, and saw no need to let that go. He was always so good to me, though. In addition to the tattoo on my foot for him, I'll likely get the word "sweet" tattooed on me at some point, possibly next to the bird he did on my side, to remind myself of all he taught me about who I am.
He's an amazing man, and I'm absolutely heartbroken to have lost him. We haven't been together for a while, but that never stopped me from loving him, or him me. This is earth-shattering for me. He's been one of my closest friends even in some of the hardest times of my life. I cut a date short to spend the night in the hospital with him when he had an especially bad case of kidney stones. Despite trying to stay awake, I eventually fell asleep, sitting in the chair next to his bed, my head resting on his shoulder. It was the closest to taking care of him he ever allowed me to do.
I was engaged to him when he was arrested for the first time. Crazy as he was, I guess we'd all assumed he'd been arrested before, but it sure scared the hell out of him to be locked up, even though it was only for a couple days. He hasn't driven without a license since, to my knowledge. He caught an earful for two days straight after he was released from me, as I was irate at the thought of my future-husband to have been locked up. He was incredibly sweet and very humble about it all, which, if you know Danger, took quite a shock.
He told me a lot of stories about his past, some would probably make me guilty by association just for knowing. He was crazy as sin, but he had a heart of gold. Lord, did he love me. He would tell me all the time how I was the one who tamed the eternal bachelor. I loved the thought, but it seems it took more than even he thought to tame him. He had cleaned up his act so much in the months before his death.
He didn't like the fact that his kids had figured out what he did recreation-wise, and I had no problem encouraging him to quit some of it. He had been so good about it all! He'd even been going back to school. He was so proud of himself, and I was, too, though I didn't tell him nearly as much as I should have.
I miss him. That's one of the hardest things to say. I really just want to talk to him again. I want to feel his big grizzly bear hug and hear him call me Cesil or Sweet Thang one more time.

I don't know how to say goodbye to him.

Grief

I'm numb, and lost, and confused.
I don't want it all to be true.
I go back n forth between emotions and numbness, between anger and sadness, between acceptance and denial. I suppose any knowledgeable grief counselor would tell me this is perfectly normal. I'm sure any half-shined grief counselor would try to put me on meds for being bipolar or something the way I feel.
One minute I'm hungry, the next I'm too numb to feel much of anything. I've been awake for hours, but haven't made it out of bed for longer than the 5 minutes it took to use the bathroom and come right back.
I talked to Bright Eyes on the phone for a bit this morning. He's being an absolute angel right now, helping me heal this horrible pain. He knew Danger, too, longer than me, though not as intimately.

My heart is absolutely aching. I feel sick to my stomach half the time, and now I am back to crying. Tumbleweed made a comment about suicide in jest, because he has been feeling like hell for so long, but I know he did not realize how much it hurt to hear it right now. My heart is so heavy.

Danger had told me he was going to send me off the package he'd meant to send when we were together about two weeks before he died. Today, Tumbleweed and I came home to a missed package note from the mail, and it made me feel so sick. I don't know if Danger did send it or not, but I know only one thing of the many that are supposed to be in the package- my engagement ring. The one I have never seen. The thought of opening a package he prepared for me so long ago is overwhelming. I miss him and I want him to come back. It's so hard to feel the way I do about him right now. Part of me wants to start the bargaining bit that I know goes with grief and tell God I'd give up everything I have right now to have him back around, just because this hurts so bad... I know it's all part of the normal grieving process, but that intellectual knowledge does not help the emotional misery.

Once again, the tears won't stop.

Danger was among my closest friends. There was so much frustration in my heart surrounding my love for him. I never could completely understand it all, but the closest I came was in an email I sent him the day he passed away. (Lord, was that really only yesterday?) I'll never know if he read it, and I suppose it's better that I don't. My traditionally Catholic sense of guilt is tearing me apart already. If I'd married him, he'd have had insurance, and maybe then he would have gone to the hospital when he should have. Maybe my email upset him and that's why he had the asthma attack. The pain in my heart is so heavy.

I know what I have with Bright Eyes is what was meant to be all along, but part of me wants what I've known for so long back that I... well, it's always easier to have what you're used to than what's right for you, isn't it? None the less, I miss him horribly and I want him back in my world more than anything I've ever known....

The tears feel like they'll never stop.

Danger & Peace

It's been a very rough day. This morning I woke up feeling sick, and more than a little cranky. I went out to lunch with my dad, which was a lesson in patience because of my horrible mood. I came home, and got to talk to Bright Eyes for a bit, which made me quickly realize I know nothing of patience- the man is amazing with his not-quite-five year old daughter. After a nap, my phone rang, and it was Bright Eyes again. He asked if I had checked my Facebook recently. I'd said no, then he said I might want to- no, he decided out loud- I might NOT want to.
My friend of so many years and one-time fiancee has passed away. He had an asthma attack and couldn't be revived once he went into respiratory arrest. I went through the 7 stages of grieving in 3 hours flat, and am sitting plainly at numb just now. Bright Eyes and I have concluded this is temporary, but no less scary for it's impermanence. I cried for quite some time, and felt the need to be outside, with nature. I drove. I drove to the town I was born in, through a hell of a thunderstorm, with my window down, and it hit me; the perfect method of healing, a tattoo.

This may sound absolutely insane to anyone who is either a) not tattooed themselves or b) not aware that I am heavily tattooed, but it makes perfect sense to me. Danger was a tattoo artist, and musician. It didn't take long for me to know what I wanted, though it took me a bit longer to find a tattoo shop while trolling the streets of my hometown. (I haven't been here in 12 years.) I found a very nice, extremely talented and well-versed tattoo artist, and am quite pleased with the work- and my decision.

I'm blown away by my understanding of what I needed to do to heal. I am sure there is more to come, but, for now, I am proud of my visible progress.

I miss Ryan fiercely and am more than a little overcome with emotions about this situation. I have no doubt that there will be more to follow on all of this when I am not numb and exhausted.

Fairy Tale Freedom

Searching Ocean for Baha'i writings on true love, this quote quickly caught my eye:
Convey respectful greeting to the beloved maid-servant of God . . . . . . . . and love her.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Tablets of Abdu'l-Baha v1, p. 212)

This was what I was looking for all along- someone who saw me as a spiritual creature, as a deeper creation, and showed me respect and love. I was blown away by how simply and directly Abdu'l-Baha phrased something it's taken me years to even understand I was searching for.


Be kind to all around and serve one another; love to be just and true in all your dealings; pray always and so live your life that sorrow cannot touch you.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Abdu'l-Baha in London, p. 82)

This quote... wow. The section, if I were to divide it a bit, that really hits home, is "love to be just and true in all your dealings". Beginning a relationship with someone, not for ego, not for affection, but for the purpose of being just and true... that is truly the heart of love. That is so much what I want.

It's a bit overwhelming, just now, seeing the plan of God and my own heart fall in line. Truly, as is His habit, I could not have imagined something as beautiful as what He had in store for me. To have someone I have admired and respected for so long become this beautiful catalyst in my life, so easily but steadily pushing me forward in my drive for the future, for something even more amazing than the last, how can you top that?

I have never felt so free as I do now. I spent a few days in a low place, lonely and scared, overwhelmed, hurting, and questioning so much. Here I sit, amazed, feeling more beautiful, more precious, more protected than I ever have and knowing... This is how it was always meant to be. Powerful.

Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

Tumbleweed (my Dad) finally got a much-needed ray of hope today. We took him to the hospital this morning, and, after a year of a lot of pain and trouble and no diagnosis, they could see some of what was bothering him in the test results.
After a year of misery, I have no doubt that when he says he was starting to think he must be crazy, he surely means it. I am surprised at the difference I see in his mood already. I knew a diagnosis would help ease his fears, but I had no idea one test result confirming a problem that may or may not be fix-able would alter his mood so drastically. He's been so productive today, despite his undoubtedly energy-draining morning at the hospital. It gives me a lot of hope.

Bright Eyes and I talked for hours last night, and a few more hours this afternoon. We plan on talking more tonight.

I have been told that once you say you believe something, the universe, by it's nature, will test that. After deciding last night that I didn't want to see anyone else as long as things are going well with Bright Eyes (we aren't in a relationship, and neither of us are feeling particularly rushed about this), I should have known this would be tested. Today, at the hospital, I spent an hour in the tech room while Tumbleweed underwent his testing. The tech, Metal Mind, was incredibly charismatic. He is probably in his late 30's or early 40's, but we hit it off. Wonderful guy, with an adorable six year old daughter. Very funny, sweet, and outgoing. I am a very straight-forward, outgoing person. I have never really thought twice about asking someone for their number. It's not something that bothers me to do. I realized that he'd been in the area for some time, and could probably show me quite a bit to keep me entertained through the rest of my leave time. Fact of the matter is, it didn't matter to me. While he was an attractive man, it didn't take consideration for me to know that I was far more attracted to Bright Eyes all around than I was to this man. It might have been fun, but Metal Mind smokes, drinks, and, well, just is busy having fun.

I have to say, the smell of smoke is a huge turn-off for me. I grew up around it, and I've only gotten more sensitive to it throughout the years. That aside, I made the choice to do what I knew was right, rather than fun or easy today. I enjoy talking to Bright Eyes for hours, I really like what I see when I consider what a future with him might entail. He is, above all, a gentleman. He is so much what I want in my life. There's no guarantees that things with him will work out. Regardless, though, I have every intention of continuing to make the choices that will keep him in my life, and keep our friendship alive and strong. I suppose that's how it's supposed to start, isn't it?

Bright Eyes

So, back in high school (yes, it's been a decade since I attended school... *sigh*) there was a boy, we'll call him Bright Eyes.
He was goofy and silly and sweet, and, unfortunately, a teenage boy.
Fast-forward to present day.

I have had him on my Facebook for a little bit now, and have slowly but surely realized how much we have in common. He is an absolutely incredible person. He's a great Daddy, a very handsome man, and, as it turns out, a wonderful friend.

Jitterbug had expressed to me something I knew to be true, but something that I'm not sure I'd ever heard expressed in so many words- it is incredibly important to feel your other half is your best friend.

I've questioned my own worth a million times. I've questioned my own ability to have a healthy relationship since the first time my mother told me I would be incapable of such a feat. I've questioned my ability to remain faithful to someone for longer than I care to consider. My heart rules everything, and, for the longest time, fear has ruled my heart.

I remember exactly one case where someone interested in me followed my blog. That was pretty special to me. Bright Eyes has been following it (despite some minor confusion on the use of RSS feeds and Google Reader) since long before this evolved into, well, what it is right now. He's been interested in my life, in my words, since before it served him any purpose. That alone has been a huge source of pride for me. Looking at my followers list and seeing his face made me smile more times than is probably sane. He remembers my dark days- and he cared about me then, raging hormones aside.

He tells me I'm beautiful. We can talk about God. We can have hours of intelligent (or completely hysterical, in some cases) conversation. He may have the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen. (I guess even dorks can make pretty babies, huh?) I'm touched and blown away by him.

I've been sitting here, asking God when He was going to explain all of this to me, show me why I went through everything I have, questioning things... I've been hurting so much, feeling like I would never be the woman I wanted to be, never mind a woman to someone else... And now, I look at all of this, and see that, despite my short comings, despite my fears about love and relationships, despite my plainly human fallibility, there is someone who cares about me in a way I can't quite put to words... And, while it is so scary to feel so much so fast, and probably a superstitious no-no to say it all, this is the man I want to be that good woman to.

I've been through my Bad Girlfriend stage, I've been wild, I've been free, and I have been ridiculously lonely. Here I am, in New Mexico, once again sharing a roof with my father, this time to help him, instead of me, and with nothing but fresh start laid out before me. I have all the power to make this time different. I have learned what it takes to set those boundaries and make those rules. All that's been missing is someone I wanted to make them for.

Bright Eyes, I hope I haven't said too much. You've been reading this long enough to know I pour my heart and soul into my writing. If this is too much and it scares you, I'm sorry. I'm not good at hiding my emotion, and that is both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. Please forgive me for saying it all this way, instead of telling you more directly. Speaking is not my greatest strength, despite it's existence in my life as a strong habit.

Amazing

Amazing, By Seal

It's a wonderful song.
"Everyone says you're amazing now that you're clean..... Say you don't know how you do it now, so you run..... I want you to always feel you're amazing."
These words just hit me so completely.
It's been over a year since I've been sober. I really have no true desire to ever drink again. Besides it being against what I believe in as a faith, it's against what I believe in as a person. I hate the person I am when I drink. No, I can't say hate.... I don't want to be the person I am when I drink, because I become my mother when I drink. I allow myself to make excuses for my behavior, I allow emotions to take control of me, and allow myself to stop caring about the outcome and about other people. I had a friend the other day try to insist (during a phone conversation) that there's nothing wrong with having a few drinks with friends. It's the same argument I've heard before. Honestly, it does upset me when people say this stuff. Strangers or people who don't know me well can say what they'd like- after 2 years in Korea, peer pressure is a second language. My friends, though, they should know better.

I understand most people did not see me at my worst. Many of the people that did see me at my worst didn't see half of what was going on.

The fact of the matter is, I am sober, I am not my mother, and I am proud to be able to be the person that I have worked so hard to be.

A Lesson In Self-Loathing

It's scary to see that something you've had is balancing perilously on the fence between the most real, wonderful thing you've ever had and one of the most superficial.
It seems like the two can't co-exist, but then can.

Worse, they do.

Jitterbug is a beautiful human being who cares about me and has been very good to me. He would be perfect for me in so many ways.

Yet, we do this dance where neither of us are willing to open up too much to the other, and so, I suppose, he probably doesn't feel heard any more than I do. I see it in his eyes in pictures just how much he cares, and there were moments I felt it like a surge of electricity in the way he treated me, the way things were when we were out together. Yet, overall, I feel left out, discarded and, well, not as loved as I want to. No, my friends, this simply cannot work. Last I heard, he would be in the states sometime soon, and would come see me. I don't believe it, now, though. Realizing that he was pushing me away as I was pushing him away, well, I don't see how this can turn around now. I don't know that I am prepared for it to.

I suppose this is all part of this growing up process I seem to be terminally caught in, but it's hard to accept that letting go of someone is a step forward. It took me so long to let my mother go, though she doesn't want nor feel that she needs help, and it's taken me ages to figure out I needed to let go of toxic friends and exes.

One former friend repeatedly demands I forgive her for her past actions, then denies they ever happened, then demands I forgive her some more. I've explained to her a few times now that I have forgiven her, but forgiveness does not mean allowing someone a second chance to hurt me. She apparently disagrees. I couldn't live with a heart full of hate, and Lord knows I've seen enough bad days that I could have made that choice, too.

I remember, vividly, growing up, hearing my mother gripe about her mother griping about only receiving one small present one Christmas day during the Great Depression. The irony of my mother's bitterness about her mother's bitterness was not lost on me, even at a young age. I heard this story many times throughout my childhood, and perhaps that is why I chose to forgive.

I had a friend who absolutely could not understand my lack of hatred for either of the men who raped me. I would not wish any harm on them, truly, unless it is God's will, and it is to help these men find light where there has only been darkness. I doubt I will ever understand what it is that makes someone live in such a darkness that they feel the need to inflict it upon others, but that is not for me to understand. My job, as a Baha'i, as a woman, as a Soldier and as a Survivor, is to pray for them and trust that God will work out the details. To use an Army phrase- that's above my pay grade!

Here I sit, at 230 in the morning, contemplating all manner of things, not least of all the loneliness that has been eating at my heart these last few days.

After realizing how much easier (and more painful, but less productive) running back to an ex would be than trying to move on with my life, I sent my ex-fiance a long-ish email explaining my feelings and my pain on this subject. His response was a post on my facebook page. "You're it" followed by "Don't take life so seriously." -sigh- Thank you for proving to me I made the right decision, Danger. I may love you dearly, but there's some things you simply will never understand about me, and those are the things I need most to have someone understand.

So, here I am, in my self-imposed loneliness, praying I'm making the right decisions and not further endangering my future- or what little sanity I might be able to scrape together.

Questions Leading To Answers

Jitterbug told me he didn't believe people could have a healthy relationship if they kept ties with exes, even only as friends.
I disagreed, strongly. I asked a few friends how they felt about that, nobody agreed with his sentiment. Right now, I think I might agree.

My Dad said he'd started to think of life as chapters. I think this is a new chapter for me.

I realize when I get lonely, as I am now, I tend to try to go back. I don't recall doing this while in a relationship, other than my ugly habit of running from them when things get hard, but I can't be certain that some part of me doesn't.

I look through my Facebook, and realize that there are more people than I'd like to admit that I find myself feeling jealous over. Many of these people I never had a true romantic tie to, but, well, I guess that goes back to learning the difference between intimacy and romance.

I haven't always been the person I want to be- I'm still not, and this, I suppose, is the point of life. I will always be working towards this ideal I have set for myself. I fell in love with a long-time friend at one point. We got engaged. Seeing that, while I did love him very deeply, he was also someone who made me uncomfortable in other ways, I broke it off. Part of me felt I was running from another relationship, but now I see why I felt that need. Now, I look at him on my Facebook, and realize that, while I still hold feelings of jealousy, that he might find someone else, I'm not sure I can even handle him in my life in any real way.

I've cleared my list- and my life- of plenty of people who I'm tired of seeing say negative things, who's pictures inevitably end up being of drunken weekends, foolishness and half-nude bar crawls, but ridding my life of the ones who cause the most pain for me seems like it'll be the hardest thing I've ever done. How do I do this?

You Can Never Go Home

They say that you can never go home.
Here I am, 45 minutes from the hospital I was born in, 20 minutes from one of the houses I lived in as a child and a room away from my Dad, and still I know that this phrase is very, very true.

I'm lonely. After spending 2 years in Korea, I don't know who I can call here.

The people I missed more than most I know will tell me it'll be alright, not to worry, things will get better. That won't do the tears streaming down my face a lick of good.

The people back in Korea would know how to make me laugh, and they'd know what I need to get over these feelings. Those are the people who know me.

I miss Liz, Lady Pirate, Moe, all my people back there... This isn't home. This place isn't the place I'm happiest. I'm thrilled to be back in the states, and happy I'll be able to get my Dad taken care of, but I just want to be happy again. I don't want to be lonely and overwhelmed. I don't want so much weight on my shoulders. I just want to be somewhere I know and understand, even if it sucks sometimes. I don't know how to function here.

So I sit here, quiet and alone, and pray, because I just don't know what else to do.

Thank You, America

Thank you, America, for not forgetting my Brothers and Sisters who sit in Iraq, Afghanistan, Korea, UAE, Saudi Arabia, Italy, Germany, Japan, on the border of Mexico, or anywhere else they are called upon to go.
Thank you, America, for not forgetting my Brothers and Sisters who were called to duty, never to return.
Thank you, America, for being the place where I can listen to conversations going on around me in German, Korean, Chinese, Spanish, English and nearly any other dialect or language imaginable, and nobody is jailed or killed for it.
Thank you, America, for being the place where, while we may not always get it right, plenty of us are learning exactly how good we have it, and trying to do better for our children and grandchildren.
Thank you, America, for being the country who does not look down on those who serve, as we once did, and for saying thank you, offering to buy a drink, pay for a meal, or any other way you choose to show your appreciation for our efforts.
Thank you, America, for volunteering enough for the military that we have no need for a draft, that we have no mandatory 2 years of military service as many countries do, and for supporting our all-volunteer military.
Thank you, America, for being the place I wept with joy to return home to after 2 years in South Korea, and for thanking me for my service when I did.
I am proud to be alive in a time like this, when so much of the world is advancing in such huge ways, but I am especially proud to be a member of the U.S. Army, the greatest fighting force in the world, and to be a true-in-the-blood American.

A waitress at the Mexican restaurant that Dad and I went to for lunch today ran out and hugged me as I waited on the porch for him. She hugged me- a true hug- and thanked me for serving our country. Here was this skinny, 37-ish biker chick hugging this 24 year old Soldier on the front porch of a random Mexican restaurant in New Mexico. I have never in my life been prouder.

Thank all of you who haven't forgotten.

Rest In Peace, SPC Jesse Zamora, of Las Cruces, New Mexico.
Rest In Peace, PFC Bryant Haynes, of Epps, Louisiana
Rest In Peace, All of my Brothers and Sisters who haven't come back.
You are not forgotten!

Taking It All In

I haven't really had any issues with jet lag. I go to sleep around 9 or 10 pm. If I'd stop waking up at 5 am, I'd be happy.
I got home on Thursday (it's the wee hours of Saturday morning now) after 39 hours of traveling. Dad and I went to get Denny's, hit Walmart, then came home.

I can't explain how incredibly good it feels to be home.
I flew into San Francisco to hit Immigration and Customs (a lot what I imagine the Christian interpretation of hell would be like in real life- and I got off easy, being military) and literally felt a few tears slide down my face when I saw America out the window of the plane. America is a beautiful place. I don't think most Americans have any true understanding of how blessed we are, even just to live on this land, never mind live in the intelligent, evolving, progressive society that we do. I suppose it's a similar concept to youth being wasted on the young- America is wasted on Americans. Other countries around the world are trying to be like us. Whether or not this is a good thing in all ways is certainly up for debate, but we are the lead dog. Our president is, essentially, the 'Leader of The Free World' that you always hear about in movies. Nobody else does it like us. We are the Ace of Spades, the lead wild card, the one that changes everything. Everything.

If I wasn't willing to die for my country before, I would be now.

Korea is beautiful, and I will miss it every day for the rest of my life. The people are far more respectful than Americans, though we are definitely friendlier as a whole. They show their elders respect, though this is a habit that seems to be getting worn down by the influence of industrialization and Western influence. It's very family-focused, and the public transportation systems are stellar.

I am absolutely loving driving again, though.

Freedom to go where I want to, when I want to, or just driving to drive.

I am so grateful to be home.

Later today, I will be going to join some of the local Baha'i folks for a Ruhi Book 1 study, and then to the Youth devotional. I'm really excited about all of this. It'll be really nice to meet the local Baha'i community finally!

Forever, With Love

I just re-read my post titled Forever Hasn't Gotten Hear Yet.
It's interesting to read what it says, and realize the one word that sums it up isn't even in the post.

Intimacy.

Ocean to the rescue.

Bahai Faith:
The people of Baha, who are the inmates of the Ark of God, are, one and all, well aware of one another's state and condition, and are united in the bonds of intimacy and fellowship.

(Baha'u'llah, Gleanings from the Writings of Baha'u'llah, p. 169)

Paraphrased, Baha'i folks know each other intimately. We become a spiritual family, without a doubt. Another reason it would, undoubtedly, be easier for me to feel that connection with a fellow Baha'i. This statement rings true on a level I don't know how to put into words.


Christianity has something to say about this, too:
In order to reach the Union of Light, the soul must pass through the Dark Night -- that is to say, through a series of purifications, during which it is walking, as it were, through a tunnel of impenetrable obscurity and from which it emerges to bask in the sunshine of grace and to enjoy the Divine intimacy.

(St. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel)

You have to go to the darkness to find the light. I think this is true with people, as well as life. I have certainly had my trials with people, men especially, but each has taught me better how to deal with people- and which people to deal with, given the choice. I have dealt with the darkest of people (pay attention, people, race has no application to this one) and learned to recognize those with whom I feel comfortable, those with whom I can share the proper level of intimacy needed for a true love.

I say continually that being a Baha'i is not a prerequisite, but, all the while, imagining a marriage and family with someone who does not feel my passion for the Baha'i faith is nearly impossible. I have opened people's eyes to the Faith, some of whom were even men I'd been dating, but it took me a great while to come around to the point in my life to truly understand how important it was to me.

It's odd to me how peaceful and settled my heart feels today. I can feel that the world is moving as it should be. I feel like things will only get better. I am hopeful and grateful and a little sad, but not violently so.

I found out today, via The Army Times, that a friend of mine from Basic Training passed away due to combat-related injuries in Iraq. Rest In Peace, PFC Haynes. God Bless You. You will not be forgotten!

What The World Owes You

"The world owes you nothing. It was here first!" -Mark Twain

This article, over at Nursing Jocularity, makes me wonder if going overboard with the "specialness" is contributing to the attitude that the world owes one something when the children grow up.

Particularly since I've been in the Army, I see more and more young adults behave as if the world owes them a break of some sort. I know I was a bit spoiled as a child, but there was never an attitude that I deserved something just because I wanted it. My father has told me every chance he gets that he loves me and is proud of me. Never, though, was I just handed something. If I was told no, that was the end of the discussion.

I suppose some of my attitude toward not being owed anything centers on life after childhood though- when you realize how easily something important or basic can be taken away from you, your idea of what you deserve changes. The world doesn't care what you think you deserve if you don't appreciate it and earn it.

This may sound contrary to my spiritual beliefs, but it's not. We hold ourselves to a high standard. If I assume that all the good things are going to come to me because I deserve them, I'm not helping anyone out- not even myself. Don't take anything for granted. God will do his part, but not until you've learned to do your part.

Being your child's parent does not mean being your child's friend. I remember hearing this line as a kid, and it applies to faith as well as dealing with children: God's first priority is to teach you. If you refuse to listen, his first priority is not fulfilled, so he will continue trying to teach you as long as it takes. Being the friend is something learned, something you have to prove you can handle.

Forever Hasn't Gotten Here Yet

Interesting Revelation: One of the men that I fell for that I'm not allowed to be with had made a point of saying he was teaching me what I was worth. Guess what? It worked. It's not that I'm meant to be alone forever, it's that I haven't met someone who is on that level.
I need someone I really feel that connection to. Despite the closeness I feel already to both Jitterbug and Mr. DJ, neither of them are on that level. I can't have a real conversation with them about God- it's always very one-sided- and I can't imagine asking them to pray with me. The Baha'i folks I've been studying with have made me feel like praying is the most nautral thing to do with a group of people, and I've never felt that way before. I want my children to grow up knowing that God is their friend and confidant, and not some big scary dude you ask to watch over special occasions. I don't want them to have that longing for truth that I had for so many years. I have known since I was very young what I believed- I've never had too much trouble listening to my heart, it's been acting on what it said I struggled with- but it wasn't until I found the Baha'i faith that I knew I was home. I don't want someone who can't understand that. Is being a Baha'i an absolute must? No, but it would be a huge bonus for someone to be able to remind me of The Bab and Baha'u'llah and Abdu'l-Baha's words when I need to hear them most.
This revelation came to me in the back of a taxi cab on the way back to post this morning. I stayed out last night, I wasn't ready to face reality again. I wondered why I didn't feel more for Mr. DJ- he's a really wonderful guy, and he spoils me something fierce- and then I thought to myself how much I missed my friend who'd taught me what I was worth. As I sent him a text message, the truth came out: "I'm not settling because of what you taught me I was worth."
Wow.
My heart is still sad I'm leaving, but I'm so much more at peace with everything right now.
God Is Great.

Smoke And Mirrors (Mr. Marshal Mathers)

Smoke And Mirrors- July 9, 2010

I've liked Eminem's music for quite some time. At some point, though, someone pointed out to me that his mother, too, had Munchausens disorder, and he, too, was a survivor of the by-proxy variety. This brought a new search for me to find relatable peices in his music. It turns out, I would have had a harder time avoiding it.
His new album, Recovery, well, hits home. It's so interesting, if a little scary, to see that his music has reflected my own personal struggles almost perfectly throughout the years.
I sit here, with the video for "Not Afraid" (bought legally on iTunes, thank you very much) on repeat, astounded at the emotions it brings up inside me.
There's one scene, in particular, where he's walking down the street and gradually realizes he's surounded by mirrors, and then the fog/smoke rolls in... Lord, if I can't relate to that, there's not a thing in this world I understand.
These last two years in Korea have been a real learning experience. Mad as I was being sent here for my first duty station, I see why I needed to be here. Being in this place made me grow up. It cut branches, so to speak, so that other branches may grow. As I approach a year and a half sober, I see things so much more clearly. I see how much of my life was a smoke and mirrors game, if you will. So much of what I expected from people, so much of what I believed was true of myself, was all false. Believing these things was my way of coping with the harsh realities, and avoiding personal responsibility.
Now, realizing I will be 25 in six months, and seeing all the things I will do so much differently in my next quarter century, I am blown away by all I understand. I question if the level of understanding I have now is normal for someone my age- though normal is so subjective and the level of understanding I have is so lop-sided in some ways that I doubt an answer may be assertained.
So, Mr. Marshall Mathers, thank you for giving a girl something to relate to. Your influence goes farther than you may understand.

Art And Faith

Well, Mead's back at it.
I've been such a fan of his writings- he was the first Baha'i blog I read, as it were.
He's been in the middle of some things, and hasn't been writing as much as he once was. I am glad to see One Baha'i popping up a little more regularly in my blog feed.

He spoke a bit about Faith and it's influences on what type of arts one attaches themselves to, be it through what we take in or what we create. In the Baha'i faith, you see, creation is seen as a type of prayer, if you will, as we are mimicking our own Creator in this.

I have always loved music, but have never had any talent for it. My mother looked at me in the car one day, as I was singing my 7 year old heart out to whatever music happened to be on the radio just then, and she said to me 'You're not ever going to be famous for your singing, you know.' It rocked me, I won't lie. I was seven! Talk about breaking a heart! Guitar lessons ended similarly, though the ballet and piano classes I took as a young child were slaughtered by my insistence on moving on to bigger and better, "more grown up" things. Such naivety.

The faith has given me the drive to want to take one more shot at it, though, this time through the djembe drum.



That is one of my priorities when I get home. Drumming, I am sure, will not go over easily with some of the neighbors, if I'm not careful, but it is also something I am able to experiment with a little more on my own, rather than needing to take lessons to learn notes and such. Not to say lessons would hurt, but I tend to enjoy solitude quite a bit these days, and this may be a good way to focus on that, rather than heading straight for facebook.

I love to write- that's not a habit I can see ever letting go of- but sometimes you just need a beat.

Intimate Prayers

It's not that I'm scared of being alone.
I'm scared of not knowing if I will always be alone.
I've been scarred and branded by my past, and I still work to heal all the wounds, and I wonder if I will ever succeed. I have always known I was meant for something special in this world, but I wonder if those things will be achieved without a partner standing by my side.
I've had this open in my browser tabs for weeks, but finally got around to reading it tonight, and it hit home.

Meanwhile, the more I read about Baha'i marriage and the requirement to have all parents give their consent, the more I struggle internally with my mother's alcohol abuse and strained relationship with my father and I. I stumbled across this blog over at Baha'i Coherence about a similar topic. Some part of me thinks her alcoholism and abusiveness would be grounds to say she's not capable of giving consent, but I know it's one of those few rules that, as Baha'is, we are pretty strict about. Failing to follow the two basic rules of Baha'i marriage, assuming I get there some day, may get my voting rights suspended. If this is ever a relevant topic to a real-life situation instead of my what-if-worries, I'll make an inquiry through the community, to see what resolution there may be.

As for blessings, I have, through a local Baha'i friend's daughter, found a community out in the area that I will be headed to. Not only is there "a community", but there is a large, lively and very diverse collection of communities in the surrounding area. In one town, there are nine devotional meetings a month!!!! NINE! Here in Korea, we've been lucky to be able to get everyone together once a week! I am so excited! I have gotten emails from all sorts of people there, in all three of the towns in the area- two from professors at the university I'm looking into attending there, one from a military spouse and Baha'i, and have gotten a run-down of all sorts of folks out that way. There's a pretty decent military Baha'i group out there- something I never thought I'd get a chance to experience- as well as a very culturally diverse group. From the looks of it, there's a good probability of several bi-lingual folks out that way, and maybe I'll get a chance to learn Spanish like I've been wanting to. Who knows, maybe I'll finally meet a nice, single Baha'i man. (I took a peak at the facebook of one Baha'i there that was mentioned as a 'single soldier' and, well, in my friend Jerry's words- Great is God The Creator!)

I'm scared to leave Korea, as this has so much become my home, but I am blessed and excited to be going to this large, lively community. I have enjoyed Richard, Steve G and his family, Stedawa, Mrs. Yoon, Kilowa, Jaeran, and all the other Baha'is that I have been so lucky as to meet here. I will miss them so much. To become Baha'i in an international community was a true bounty, and it won't be forgotten. They sent me off today with shrimp, as they brought me in with strawberries. I've always joked that I don't do anything without food, and it seems this is true even when it extends to my faith.

It seems my internet connection is not conducive to uploading pictures just now, so I will have to load the picture of my Baha'i family here in Korea later on.

The Fear Of (Not) Being Alone

Jitterbug is a wonderful guy.
Yet I'm already pushing him away hard and fast.
I can't help but question if I just haven't met the right person yet, or if I'm that scared of settling down, or if I'm not meant to settle down.
I'm as scared to settle down as I am to be alone.

That's a lie.

I'm more scared of settling down.

Being responsible to someone for the rest of my life... whoa. WHOA. I mean, really, that's a LOT of responsibility! With the Army, I have a contract. I know when this crap expires, I know that I can get away from it from time to time, but a relationship? You don't earn leave days in a relationship. I won't get 2.5 paid days off for every 30 days I'm dating someone, it doesn't work that way!

The thought of being alone... Scary. Just not AS scary. It's a lot easier to imagine bouncing around this way for the rest of my life than imagine being married to someone for the rest of my life, imagine being separated from someone- on the other side of the world- but still having to answer to them. That's scary! I wonder if I'll ever get the hang of this.

I'm learning to use Ocean to it's full capacity, and, in such, here is one of the quotes I found by searching for "relationship":

Bodily relationships may pass; even two sisters may be inimical to each other, but the spiritual relationship is eternal, and brings about mutual love and service.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Abdu'l-Baha in London, p. 75)

Is this what I'm missing? I said at one point that I thought it would be difficult to imagine marrying someone who wasn't a Baha'i. Is that spiritual connection what I've been looking for and not finding? I won't lie, I find it harder and harder to express my excitement over some things to people who aren't Baha'i. I'm afraid some things don't translate quite as well as others. Music, yes, that always works, but not everyone will be as excited as I am to hear about the amazing community I'm going to (AMAZING!) or the multi-cultural area, or see positive role models of different genders and races or even as excited as I am to see the black guy playing the good guy in a movie for once. Some people just don't get those things the same way I do.

I suppose I need to take my own advice, too, and "Let go, and let God."

The Devil I Know

I'm leaving in less than 5 days.

There's a frustrating thought.

A Gypsy, a woman who's never known what home felt like, leaving the place that she feels she truly grew up, once and for all. I find myself terrified at the prospect of moving on from a place that's caused me as much pain as growth- though I suppose the two are, in some ways, synonymous. I suppose it's odd for me to feel so scared of something I'm sure I need so much, and something I have yearned for for two years now. The fact of the matter is, this doesn't confuse me.

You see, running is something I'm used to. Leaving a place so I didn't have to deal with the pain is what I did for the first 21 years of my life. The Army has forced me to grow up. Being stationed in Korea- one of the most trying assignments for most Soldiers- has been a major boot in my butt. It took me away from everything I've known, and completely disabled my coping mechanism of going away.

Now, as I prepare to return to the States, I realize that Korea has become the Devil I Know. This is the place I know how to function as an adult. Different scenery, different leadership, different peers and juniors and, well, this is a whole new beast. I may be able to run more, but now that I know how not to, well, it doesn't feel as critical that I do. How do I face the same people day after day, knowing I don't want to run anymore? How do I face a world that is infinitely more stable than the world I have known?

Will I ever learn to trust anyone? Even myself?

Prayer And Benefits

I stumbled across this article on the healing power of prayer, and on praying for the sake of praying, thanks to GWR's article referencing yet another Baha'i blog that had flown under my own personal radar.
The thought of "praying for prayer's sake" has always fascinated me, and, at the same time, amused me.
Perhaps that sounds a bit cynical, and that's truly not how it's meant, I only hope I can explain this idea in my head without coming across as less than supportive of this idea.

I pray quite a bit. Sometimes it comes in the form of words flowing from my own mind and mouth, other times it's praying words from my prayer book, my obligatory prayers, and still other times, it's little but an open-ended, silent, wordless call to God.

People speak of praying for reasons other than the benefits that come with it.

Well, that's a problem.

The point of prayer, to me, is benefit. That's not to say all my prayers are asking for something. They're not. However, praying to God to praise Him heals our own indifference or lack of gratitude. Praying to God for patience makes us more aware of the opportunities we're given to practice this quality. Praying to God for clarity forces us to be more honest with ourselves about what we already know. These are all benefits. Even if the world existed without God, even if we were praying to the plaster that held the wall next to our bed together, these benefits would still exist. Those of us who believe He answers prayers- and I do- know that it's so much more.

It is important, I think, to pray in times of thanks as well as times of hardship. It is important to increase our awareness of the beautiful parts of our lives- and there really are just so many- but calling it prayer for prayer's sake, well, I'm just not sure that works.

As always, these are merely my musings, and they are not intended to be treated as gospel nor taken too personally. They are neither authoritative nor disrespectful in manner or intent.

Love's Grace, Gypsy Soul, Baha'i Heart

I have been asked a question: "How can we know when our actions meet with the approval of God?" Sometimes passion incites us to action; the laws of nature attract us, we obey our senses; the other incentive is the comprehension of the direction of God. We must find out if our actions are divinely inspired and if they do not conform, then it is our sensations which speak. Let us ever weigh our deeds in the scales of the divine teaching.
(Abdu'l-Baha, Divine Philosophy, p. 102)

I am reading and re-reading this quote.
While it hits home, it also frustrates me in the manner that, well, it hits home in a way I'm not sure I'm comfortable with. I see how this applies to life in general, and to others' situations, but to my own- well, I believe it's application to my current situation is already at risk of causing some waves.

I'm sure my defiant Gypsy blood doesn't help my want to find happiness however it comes, short of it harming another, of course. I try so hard to play by the rules, but when everything in me says that what's best for me is what is so explicitly outside the lines, well, I get stubborn.

Jitterbug is steady, solid in his affection and friendship. He has been someone I have been able to lean on and talk to. He is someone I once thought lacked passion, but now I see that he is much more like me than I'd imagined, but simply has the experience and knowledge to keep it under control in a way I'm not sure I'll ever be driven to. He is not Baha'i. He is, in fact, little of what I imagined myself falling for. Not to say I've fallen, just... that I may. Of all the qualities about people I admire, it is much different when those qualities are tempered in such a way that they balance my own. It's a frightening thing, the thought of settling down. Perhaps this will all pass, and my worries and considerations will have been without need, but, well, maybe not...

Wandering But Not Lost

I will miss Korea.

When the 80's-style pop music started getting under my skin, I will never know.

I am absolutely exhausted today. I want so much to go to sleep and not wake up for days. Tomorrow is Friday, and, much like these last 5 days or so, it will be non-stop.

I fell asleep at 5 this morning, only to be woken up by the guys from Transportation- 40 minutes early. I would have been up in 10 more minutes, but that 10 minutes was really needed. I had been asleep for all of 3 hours. This afternoon, I went to turn in gear, and, well, that was a mess, but I came through it alright. I'm proud of myself for doing all of this with no help from my leadership, though I have been fortunate enough to be able to get advice and guidance from people who, you know, actually have done this stuff before. I really want to be in a unit that treats one another like family, like I thought the Army was supposed to be.

The reasons I joined the Army were family and stability. Go figure.

I'm a Gypsy. I won't ever be happy in one place, so I don't mind moving. The last two years has been the longest I've stayed in one place my entire life, and much of it was uncomfortable for me because I couldn't leave, I couldn't just pack up the car and go like I've been so accustomed to for so long. I think I can handle two years in one place after this, now it's just a matter of figuring out if I'll ever get used to being around the same people for so long. It seems unlikely.

I have been struggling to find peace within myself these last few weeks. I will be leaving the only Baha'i community I have been a part of, and I will miss them dearly. I declared as Baha'i here in Korea, and, even more because of this fact, it has become a home. This is the place I blossomed, this is the place I thrived, in spite of everything that worked against me. I was not to be held down, I grew despite the weeds.

"When one branch is cut off other branches grow." -Abdu'l-Baha, A Traveller's Narrative, p. 29 (I love the Ocean program!!!)

I was cut off from everything I knew. I was taken away from my coping mechanism- travel, or running from the situation, to be more blunt- and, when that branch was cut, the others- faith in particular, grew. Here I am, feeling more like a blooming rose than I ever have, but still scared of the transplant that's about to take place. It's odd to think that these transplants were once my means of survival. I suppose they still are, but a light never looks quite the same when you're looking directly at it, does it? Before, it was peripheral, I didn't understand that's what I was doing, or I ignored the fact that I did know it. Now that I know it, as I look right at it, well, it just doesn't look like the same path to something better that it used to, I see it for what it really is- a change.

I have been blessed with the ability to help others. I have been reminded of this two times in particular in the last 12 or so hours. One of my friends was recently sent to Germany, and she's having a hard time right now. She posted something that sounded rather frustrated on Facebook, and I was reminded of my goal to avoid going crazy by means of "Going Skippy" instead. I posted the link to Skippy's List to her page, so that she'd be able to either laugh or enjoy making others do double takes instead of letting them get to her. She commented that I'm "always so positive" and saying that's one of those things she likes about me.

ME?! POSITIVE?!

This is not a word I'm used to having attached to me, to say the least.

I appreciated the gesture, though I still have trouble reconciling this thought.

I may not be a positive person as a whole, but I am getting better about not letting things stress me out so.

The other reminder I received was just a bit ago in the grocery store. One of the teenage boys that works there has always seemed sad when I see him, so, at some point, I pointed this out to him. Now, every time I see him, I demand a smile from him. It usually gets him to laugh, though the first few times it seemed a bit awkward for him. Now, it comes pretty naturally. Today, he asked me when I was leaving, and seemed pretty disappointed that I'd be going so soon. I hadn't realized he even knew that I was coming up on that time.

"When you meet a Persian or any other stranger, speak to him as to a friend; if he seems to be lonely try to help him, give him of your willing service; if he be sad console him, if poor succour him, if oppressed rescue him, if in misery comfort him. In so doing you will manifest that not in words only, but in deed and in truth, you think of all men as your brothers." -Abdu'l-Baha, Paris Talks, p. 16

I suppose this quote brings me back around to wanting to be a part of a family. To treat all men as your brothers is a difficult feat, no doubt. I have no doubt that I have a long way to go to be the Baha'i that I can be, but, well, I'm learning. I hope that my brothers and sisters are patient enough with me to understand when I slip, so that it may be that much easier that I may help them up when it's their turn to fall.

Golden Ring

It's after four in the morning, and here I am awake.

I finished cleaning and packing- what of it I did before the movers come tomorrow- about an hour ago. I'm exhausted, and still have plenty to do over the next few days.

I found out today that my departure may be delayed, which irritates me greatly, but I cooled my temper enough that I didn't snap on anyone. The gentleman at Travel was the kindest I could imagine him being, and it was appreciated.

I'm almost done with the paperwork process to get out of here, though not quite as far through it as I'd like. I spent some quality time with the washing machines tonight washing gear, uniforms and clothes to make sure everything that was getting packed or turned in would be in shape to do so. It took 6 loads and 3.5 hours for the laundry portion alone. I got a fair amount of reading done, though, as I was not leaving that much gear in the laundry room unattended.

I am almost numb right now, realizing that I'm really about to leave. There are so many people I will miss, and so many 'what if's' ringing in my head. While I want to insist I will be alone (independent) forever, one person has me questioning that right now. I have felt outrageous passion for a man before, and I have been in love. The feeling of having a rock under my feet and a partner, though, is something I haven't quite known before, and that is quickly changing. Jitterbug is not someone I expected to feel much for, as our first meetings were strained at best. Now, though, he has become someone I find myself depending on, and, too often, pushing away. I know I wouldn't push him away if I didn't care deeply for him (see, I have learned!) but that doesn't make it less confusing. We're making some smaller plans for the future, and if it works out, it works out. Right now, though, I don't see myself spending too much quality time with anyone else.

I have made some really good friends- Mr. DJ is someone I absolutely adore, to say the least- and I will miss so many folks here. I will miss a lot of people, and it will be hard to say goodbye to all of them... I just didn't expect to find it harder to say goodbye to one person more than the others.

Pirate Lady is going through some hard times right now, and she is very much in my prayers. I wish I knew how to help her, though I seem completely useless in her life right now, and I know I will miss her very, very, very much, so I stay out of the way, and try to make this all as easy as possible. I haven't heard any more from Rock Star, and have mostly closed off a lot of people that I'm not ready to say goodbye to. There are some, though, that I think I will be better for seeing in my rear view.

This is not, I think, what I meant to write about tonight. I'm so tired, I'm just not thinking all that clearly. I hope my brain works a little bit better after tomorrow's madness, though I expect I'll be still more tired then.

Hookah, Bhangra and Chicken Tandori

It's been an extremely busy long weekend.
I spent most nights out until the wee hours of the morning, one of which had me coming in somewhere around eleven the next morning. I've hung out at a new club, wound up out alone after my friend got taken in my the local police when a fight started over her, met an absolute sweetheart of a new friend, eaten at a new American restaurant as well as a new Indian restaurant, spent time on the beach, gone shopping, been on one horrible date and one (two?) fantastic ones, and realized exactly how much I'm going to miss this place.
My horrible date ended with finding out the guy I'd spent the entire day with didn't know my name- and I found this out in front of two of his co-workers. I was beyond embarrassed.
My fantastic dates were with my friend Mr. DJ, who is also the sweetheart I mentioned. He took me to an American diner and the Indian restaurant, we hit the hookah bar, and generally had a blast.
I went down to Busan Monday with Delta Dawg, and got a little red, which faded to tan overnight. (It's good to be me!)
Now it's Wednesday, and it's back to work/clearing. Transportation comes tomorrow, and reality is really sinking in. I'm going to miss this place.
Korea has really become my home. I've been here longer than I've been anywhere in my life, and I've really done some growing up here. I'm going to miss this place, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared of going back to the states. This is pretty overwhelming.

Risking My Hide For My Sanity

Every now and again, I begin to write, knowing the actions or feelings I'm about to write about may not reflect well upon the Baha'i community as a whole. This is when I'm proudest of my community, because they remember that we're all human, and none of us has completed the process of perfecting ourselves, or we needn't be a part of this world any longer.

That having been said, this is one of those posts.

I spent the other night walking aimlessly for 4 hours, spending some of it crying. I am overwhelmed right now, and that is just part of life today for me. I had a moment, as I was venting on the phone to Tank, when my own words struck me with such profound truth, a Mack Truck may have made less of a dent. I don't always understand what I'm feeling before the words come pouring out. I suppose this is why I write.

"When will it be my turn to be irresponsible and have fun?" I demanded out loud. My caretaker nature, it seems, has worn on me a bit in the 2 years I've spent in Korea.

Last night, I let myself lose control. I went out with two people I adore and trust- Pirate Lady and Jitterbug- and had a blast. I didn't touch a drop of alcohol, though I will admit, lately, I've felt more temptation than I have in a while. I rode the mechanical bull that's temporarily on post, twice, and I have the bruised, scratched thighs to prove it, hit Saint's bar, then went downtown to dance. I had a ball. We grabbed some Greek food- delicious- and went to a little hole-in-the-wall bar that was almost empty. I danced with Pirate Lady, and with Jitterbug, and with the DJ. The DJ got me dancing with a partner, in a way I didn't think I could. He was very sweet, though he didn't seem ridiculously comfortable with me, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I got home early this afternoon (yes, you read that right) and I'm feeling so high. I really needed to let loose last night, and that's exactly what I did. I'm so blessed to have friends who can go out with me like that and have fun, and not get inappropriately drunk or stupid, and be there for me. And to think that Pirate Lady almost didn't come out with me last night....

Interesting side note, Rock Star has been texting me again. I'm not sure how I feel about this, but I know my feelings surrounding him mostly center on the feeling of being used and lied to. I don't really feel like I ever got past that, but, well, I never really even got an apology for it, either, which is why I moved on in the first place.

...And the beat rolls on.

FEMALE Soldier

A note I wrote, cross-posted from Facebook:

A male soldier is not referred to as a male soldier, because everyone, it seems, would assume the soldier is male, unless told otherwise.

Referring to anyone as a female anything- female soldier, female lifeguard, female friend- when it is not relevant to the story is on the same lines as using someone's race out of context. It is making a statement that says the person you are referring to is somehow defined by that part of their identity, and that it has something to do with the story being told.

I am tired of being referred to as a female Soldier, as I am tired of being called a White girl, etc. If you are a part of the majority, it is undoubtedly harder to see that these words have connotations that come along with them. Females are not seen as males equals by many, if not most, even today. We are seen as less, we are seen as emotionally-driven, physically weaker, and somehow less capable of performing our duties because we are females.

I am not defined by my race nor my gender, nor my sexual preference, rank, age or any other stereotype or label you can think of, and I refuse to sit on my hands and let people continue with "harmless" labels. Labels do harm. Labels are a way to mass-produce an impression in others, without giving any real information. What you see as harmless, isn't.

If I say I was standing in line for Church's behind a black man, it's going to sound a whole lot different than if I just said I was standing in line for Church's behind a man.

If I say one of my Soldiers was crying today, it's going to sound a whole lot different than if I said one of my female Soldiers was crying today.

People who have never been a minority don't see these things. Some folks who are minorities still refuse to acknowledge them, and most refuse to stand up and say something. Those of us who do must have taken things the wrong way, must be taking it too seriously. To you it's a joke, to you it's funny, to us IT'S REAL F'ING LIFE. Now, man up, and reign in your ignorance and realize that what you say, and how you label people is effecting them and how people see them.

Walking In The Dark

I started walking towards the bar where Saint works. It's not especially close, but it's not too far away, either. It took me about half an hour to get there, but when I got to that intersection, well, I wasn't done walking. I took a right, and kept walking. I walked down town, which took me over an hour, I think, and walked around down there. I walked to the square, found a bench, and sat down to read for a little bit. When I tired of being stared at, I got up and started walking back. It started raining at some point, got going pretty hard about the time I started crying, and let up after a bit. I hadn't brought an umbrella- I never have cared much for them- so I was a bit wet.

I was coming up on the gate for post when I started hearing three familiar voices yelling my name. I didn't want to see anyone. One of those voices was Honor. He was probably the last person I wanted to see. He yelled my last name over and over- oh, how I tire of being called by my last name- and I must have yelled at them to leave me alone (expletives deleted) about six times. He ran up on me, yelling that I couldn't just blow him off like that, and demanding to know what was wrong. When I gave him the obligatory "It's none of your business", he told me it was. I called my brother, and I use this term loosely for him now, and told him I was going to come to his room, because some people didn't understand that I meant it when I said leave me alone. (Honor was standing right there, of course, and kept right on yelling through my phone call.)

I didn't go to anyone's room, but hid and cried for a bit.

I want privacy. I want love. I want someone to hold me right now. I want to know if this is shock from knowing I'm about to leave the place I've lived longer than any other. I want to know if this is hormonal or from the pain of the past. I want to know if this is stress about what I'm about to face. I can't filter through all of this, I can't figure out what this was/is/will be.

I yelled at Tank tonight. He didn't deserve it, but I needed someone to listen so desperately, but he couldn't be that person, and I was angry over it. I've been there for him, I've been exactly what he needed me to be, no questions asked, but he didn't know how to handle me, he got upset.

I feel really alone tonight, and really confused. I managed to hide all of this from Saint, though not by much. He suspected something was up when I text him to tell him I wouldn't be at the bar, that I was walking around alone. At first he thought I was lost. I tried to explain that I just had to clear my head, though I'm not sure it sounded as rational as I wanted it to.

It's when I'm at my lowest that I want someone to be able to open up to, someone to hold me. It's also when I'm there that I push everyone away hard as I'm able.
I don't want to be alone tonight.