Be courageous and try to write in a way that scares you a little.-Holley Gerth

As Writers, We Lay Our Hearts Open

Posted on May 22, 2013 by rheath40

Facebook status update: Any day is a good day when you leave your therapist’s office and don’t want to cut yourself.

Yes, that was my status update today. One of them, anyway. I’m a teeny bit of a Facebook Whore. It’s where my words started flowing, so stuff it if you don’t like it.

If you’ve spent any time at all reading my blog, you know that I’m an open book. I lay my heart open quite easily. Without trepidation. It mortifies my mother and other family members. That’s okay though. I say the things that many are thinking. Beware of the fearless woman with a potty mouth.

After I posted, a dear friend and fellow writer sent me a private message. Seems she was concerned about my comment and wanted to check in on me. I assured her that all was well. I’m happy, today. I can’t promise that I will be tomorrow. It’s kind of a crap shoot with me. If you think I like being this moody, I don’t. It’s who I am though.

Back to the correspondence between my friend and me:

Oh honey, it was supposed to be funny. I promise, I’m okay. I have bouts of depression and euphoria. Borderline personality disorder, anxiety and panic disorder, ADHD and a host of other issues. I’m also a sexual abuse survivor.

Today is a good day though. Life is good and there is a smile on my face. I would not trade what I’ve been through, but I don’t wish it on others.

I’m a funny woman, with a dark side. I need incredible amounts of validation too. I couldn’t write well if I didn’t have my darkness. Everyone sees a happy and sunny woman when they look at me. Little do they know there’s so much more to me than what’s on the surface……

Thank you for your message my friend. Thank you for your friendship. I want you to know if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for you too.

Always, Renee
The not always sparkly girl

As writers, we lay our hearts open. As our readers, you follow us to some places we wouldn’t even let a lover go. I’ve no idea why, but I think it’s what God wants me to do. Break myself open, and bleed all over the place. I figure somebody has to do it, it might as well be me.

Sparkle on my sweet friends. Sparkle on.

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Five Sentence Fiction-The Happy Accident of Serendipity

Posted on May 21, 2013 by rheath40

He was one of those lovers of life that believed everything happened for a reason. Be it fate, kismet, serendipity, luck or even karma. He’d been told that life was about making choices, coincidences, and having free will. Those three things were only part of the equation. There were powers stronger than he could even begin to imagine, bringing him, to her.

Love that brings them together again

Posted on May 20, 2013 by rheath40

Reblogged from Gorgeous Company:

If, in the beginning, there were so few people on the face of the earth, and now there are so many, where did all those new souls come from?"

The answer is simple. In certain reincarnations, we divide into two. Our souls divide as do crystals and start, cells and plants.

Our soul divides into two, and those souls are in turn transformed into two and so, within a few generations, we are scattered over a large part of the earth.

Lilacs, the End and a Beginning

Posted on May 19, 2013 by rheath40

I remembered the day. It was May and I’d finished planting in one of our gardens. I stood up and brushed the fresh earth from my knees. Removing my work gloves, I refastened the elastic that had loosened during my labor. Soft strands of hair had fallen from the knot and ended up flying in my mouth as the breeze blew. The scent of lilacs filled my nostrils and I hummed a lazy tune.

I walked up the steps of the back porch and picked up another flat of colorful pansies. I dug and dropped the hardy flowers with delicate roots into each aperture and covered them with fresh dirt. The air smelled of mud. Some of the dried grit, wafted in the warm breeze and settled between my teeth. It felt as if I was humming while holding a piece of sandpaper in my mouth. I spat a couple of times to try and purge the grains, but it didn’t help. I’m sure anyone walking by would have laughed at the young woman in short coveralls spitting into the dirt while she planted flowers.

You walked up beside me and knelt in the grass. You didn’t say much, which was unusual. I continued to dig holes and you dropped the pansies into them. When the plastic container was empty, you carried it to the garage and threw it in the recycling bin. As you wandered back out to the yard, I glimpsed your face. You looked ill.

“Honey, what is it?”

“I have to leave.”

“Do we need more flowers?”

“No, I’m leaving. I’ve packed my suitcase. It’s in the hall closet.”

“Why?”

“We’ve worked so damn hard and you’re not happy. You try, everyday. But I know you’re not.”

I turned away and stared at our freshly planted pansies. The tears came, because I know you were right. I stood and walked up to you, kissed you lightly on the lips. My nose ran and I wiped it on my shorts. I ambled to my lilac bush, leaned into it and took in the potent smell. The fresh blooms reminded me of childhood. Of easier times when all I had to worry about were mosquito bites and scraped knees.

“It’s okay for you to go. I don’t know how I’ll live though. Where I’ll go or what I’ll do.”

“You are an incredibly strong woman, you will find your way.”

You walked away and I attacked the bush. I pulled as many blooms off from it as I can stand. My fingers ached and are covered with scratches. With the bush almost bare, I carried my bounty into the house. I pulled three vases from under the sink and jammed them full. The air is already redolent with the smell of spring. I shivered as I heard the back the door slam. I knew you were gone for good. I placed my hands on the counter and wailed.

In my heart, this is what I’ve wanted, but my soul is that of a child’s. I longed to be cloaked in the familiar, and held. To be taken care of. As I placed the vases of flowers on book shelves and tables, my tears dried. I felt a strength grow within me. A light began to burn so brightly that if you touched your fingers to mine, you would burn.

I headed back outside and continued to place pansies in the little holes we’d dug together. The gardens may be mine now, but I realized, so was my life. I had to better learn to live it.

Live Like There Never Was a Gate

Posted on May 18, 2013 by rheath40

To hold us back. Thanks to my dear friend Troy P for the reminder. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Friday Fictioneers-The Phantom Strains of Love Songs

Posted on May 16, 2013 by rheath40

Stone pillars, wrought iron gate, and overgrown vegetation. Seems strange, only a few years ago, lovers danced in this courtyard.

Music filled the air as fireflies lit the surrounding fields. Victoria and Andre held each other close, though it was sweltering. Sweat dripped from his forehead, slow like honey. Her lips caught the moisture as it flowed to his cheek. Holding fast, and enraptured, they cared not about the other dancers. Hands groped, and young bodies shivered.

All that remains of those times are the phantom strains of love songs, carried by the hot summer wind.

100 Words

Genre: Romance

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Kudos and criticisms are most welcome. Bring it on.

He Didn’t Ask to be Born

Posted on May 15, 2013 by rheath40

From birth, man carries the weight of gravity on his shoulders. He is bolted to earth. But man has only to sink beneath the surface and he is free.-Jacques Yves Cousteau

At the age of 20, my Adam Boy told me he didn’t ask to be born. I looked at him and was kind of shocked by what he said. If I’d said such a thing to my mother, I would have been slapped in the mouth. I’m not her, so I simply shook my head in agreement. Adam spoke matter of fact, and wasn’t being malicious or nasty. He hardly ever is. His wasn’t a planned pregnancy, but was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know if I wanted him or not. Roger and I were still newlyweds, and Meg was only five months old. She was a wild and spirited child that robbed me of sleep, and my smile. How the hell was I going to have two children under the age of two? I was all of 23 when he was born.

The first six months after Adam’s birth were harrowing, in the postpartum depression coupled with exhaustion kind of way. In my wildest dreams I never would have thought he would question his birth. But then I think back to how both he and Meggie were raised, and now I’m not surprised in the least bit. He’s a brilliant young man that studies philosophy, so of course he’d say what he did. I’m not shocked or hurt by it. I’m in awe of him. I look at him with wide wonder, and ask myself how’d my boy get to be so smart?

I know my birth parents didn’t ask for me to be born. I was an unwanted pregnancy. If abortion had been legal, I might have become a wistful memory to my birth mother. Instead of a constant reminder of a life she couldn’t have, back in April of 1968. I was born to a single mother and my biological father was married to someone else. If you’ve spent any time reading my posts, you already know my story. No sense in boring you with the details, again.

What this post is about is the other children that didn’t ask to be born, but were. The friend that wonders how both of her parents could still be alive, but doesn’t feel cared for by them. And never has for that matter. No amount of love I give her will ever fill that void. It breaks my heart. I want nothing more than to blanket her in unconditional love and tell her she is my family. It doesn’t change the loneliness she feels.

What about my friend that I lost so many years ago to suicide? I’m sure he didn’t ask to be born with severe depression and no way out of it, but with a bullet to his brain.

I thought about him today on my way to work. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the weather. I remember us sitting on a concrete bench outside of our high school. He’d given me a pink carnation and a bright smile. His arms enveloped me and he kissed me. It was such a pleasant surprise. I even remember what we were wearing. He was dressed in pin striped jeans and a button up shirt. I was wearing a peasant skirt and blouse with strappy high heels. I crossed my legs and leaned into him. Put my hand on his chest and kissed his soft lips again. We giggled at each other as we walked to our bus. I’m sure we sat together, but the memory gets fuzzy and I can’t recall.

And there’s my friend that’s been a martyr all her life. Did she ask to be the one that takes care of everyone instead of herself? She’s still trying to figure out that she’s worth more. She needs to be taken care of. I hope she finds the one that will, because she’ll take care of him.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this post. All I know is it feels good to be writing it. To be contemplative. Maybe even a little inspirational. Again.

None of asked to be born. Some of us probably wish we hadn’t been. What would be the fun in that though? Think of all the books we wouldn’t have read. The art we wouldn’t have seen. The music that we wouldn’t have listened to. The people we wouldn’t have met. The love we wouldn’t have experienced. The hurt. The anger. The elation. The bravery. The failures. The hate. The tears. The dread. The fear. The happiness. The strength. The weakness. The sex. The want. The need. The life!

Life! We would have missed out on life. That my dears, is why were born!

I’m a Bitch, I’m a Lover, I’m a Child…

Posted on May 15, 2013 by rheath40

I tell Roger Darling, I know when to be a lady. Fortunately, most of the time I’m not.

I hate the world today
You’re so good to me
I know but I can’t change
Tried to tell you
But you look at me like maybe
I’m an angel underneath
Innocent and sweet
Yesterday I cried
You must have been relieved to see
The softer side
I can understand how you’d be so confused
I don’t envy you
I’m a little bit of everything
All rolled into one

Chorus:
I’m a bitch, I’m a lover
I’m a child, I’m a mother
I’m a sinner, I’m a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I’m your hell, I’m your dream
I’m nothing in between
You know you wouldn’t want it any other way

So take me as I am
This may mean
You’ll have to be a stronger man
Rest assured that
When I start to make you nervous
And I’m going to extremes
Tomorrow I will change
And today won’t mean a thing

Just when you think, you got me figured out
The season’s already changing
I think it’s cool, you do what you do
And don’t try to save me

I’m a bitch, I’m a tease
I’m a goddess on my knees
When you hurt, when you suffer
I’m your angel undercover
I’ve been numb, I’m revived
Can’t say I’m not alive
You know I wouldn’t want it any other way

Beneath Your Beautiful-Labrinth

Posted on May 11, 2013 by rheath40

You tell all the boys “No”
Makes you feel good, yeah.
I know you’re out of my league
But that won’t scare me away, oh, no

You’ve carried on so long,
You couldn’t stop if you tried it.
You’ve built your wall so high
That no one could climb it,
But I’m gonna try.

Would you let me see beneath your beautiful?
Would you let me see beneath your perfect?
Take it off now, girl, take it off now, girl
I wanna see inside
Would you let me see beneath your beautiful tonight?

You let all the girls go
Makes you feel good, don’t it?
Behind your Broadway show
I heard a boy say, “Please, don’t hurt me”

You’ve carried on so long
You couldn’t stop if you tried it.
You’ve built your wall so high
That no one could climb it.
But I’m gonna try

Would you let me see beneath your beautiful?
Would you let me see beneath your perfect?
Take it off now, boy, take it off now, boy
I wanna see inside
Would you let me see beneath your beautiful tonight, oh, tonight?

See beneath, see beneath,
I…
Tonight
I…

I’m gonna climb on top your ivory tower
I’ll hold your hand and then we’ll jump right out
We’ll be falling, falling but that’s OK
‘Cause I’ll be right here
I just wanna know

Would you let me see beneath your beautiful?
Would you let me see beneath your perfect?
Take it off now, girl, take it off now, girl (take it off now, boy,take it off now, boy)
‘Cause I wanna see inside
Would you let me see beneath your beautiful tonight, oh, oh, oh, tonight?
See beneath your beautiful, oh, tonight.
We ain’t perfect, we ain’t perfect, no.
Would you let me see beneath your beautiful tonight?

It’s Time to Hang it Up-For a Spell

Posted on May 9, 2013 by rheath40

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.-Vonnegut

Slaughterhouse-Five

Yesterday I was in the front yard, screwing around with my iPhone. I took loads of pictures. Don’t ask me how, but I snapped this shot while standing behind a flowering crab apple tree. I was smiling, I think. I smile all of the time. I may be falling apart inside, but there I am grinning like an idiot.

A few years ago, I was drunk and munching on country style ribs. My drunk self proceeded to bite down so hard on a bone, that I split my tooth all the way to the root. The following Monday, I was in Dr. Fear’s chair having my tooth extracted. It costs a small fortune to have an implant put in and then have the crown placed. Needless to say, I’m still missing a tooth. It doesn’t deter me from smiling though. Much to Adam Boy’s chagrin. He teases me all of the time about my gap toothed smile. Oh well, it could be worse.

If you’ve been following me for some time you know that I see my Super Therapist on a regular basis. He’s a great guy that makes me deal with my issues. I have many. Think Marilyn Monroe, but not as famous or pretty. Seriously, watch the movie, My Week with Marilyn and you’ll get an idea of what it’s like to live with a woman like me. Loving me is not easy and not for the faint of heart. I digress. Sorry.

As Super Therapist and I chatted yesterday, I realized that I’m not happy. My smile is there, but my heart hurts. I can’t tell you all why, but I will tell you one thing, my creativity is dwindling. My words are drying up, and I’m scared that they will disappear forever.

This Manic Pixie Dream Girl is going to take her leave for awhile. I’ll still participate in Friday Fictioneers, because I adore it. Rochelle and company have made me realize my potential and I’m so grateful. Think I’ll get my stories together for a book too.

I’ll be back, when everything is beautiful, and doesn’t hurt.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Love, Sparkly Girl

Rendezvous With Renee