The naked truth...

     I'm not sure that an introduction is proper or even necessary considering the contextual purpose for which I set out to blog my most intimate thoughts. After all, the point truly is for you to get to know me as you read along and share this silly but important journey of my life. For as much as I believe I have something truly valuable to share I equally hope that I stand to gain something incomprehensibly wonderful. I do however; have the fortitude to admit this exercise of “self-finding” is more self-indulgent and quite possibly nothing more than a selfish internal banter of sorts. After all they do say knowing is half the battle...


     With that being said allow me to jump right in. I'm honestly just a shell of a woman that desires something, though I’m have absolutely no idea what on earth that something is; I surely hope it will miraculously fill the depth of my souls’ void. The success of this project, in that I would be referring to finding the magic from within, just better be worth the ride! So here we go; I'm a mother of five wonderful children all healthy, smart, and all full of life and as well adjusted as can be expected. I'm a wife of fifteen odd years. The years have not all been easy, frankly most have been more difficult than I care to remember but with all things worth having, tireless affliction must be part of the endeavor of keeping; at least that is what I have resolved. Staring out from the perspective of my rose colored glossy outlook of life we absolutely love one other in every sense of that iconic idealism I've spent thirty odd years fussing over. I know better than any woman who openly professes “I stand behind my man” that the course is a struggle. Nevertheless, for appearance sake we have always managed to rise to the occasion and find our way back to orbit. I tell myself daily that I accept my course in life and I have agreeably found pace with our rhythm even in the mist of the stark reality that my life is otherwise drowned in a deafening anguish.

     It’s hard to openly share your failures, burdens and insecurities. Whether we care to admit or not, what others presume, dismiss or condemn us for tend to frighten us and ultimately harden our hearts. Sharing has never worked out for me; I share and then I’m judged for the choices I make. The vicious cycle just put a horrid taste in my mouth and somewhere along the road I lost the ability to connect completely, unconsciously and cohesively. Absorbing the sadness, anger and guilt just made it effortless to for me to fall into the "casual" friend status. Over time I have simply adapted to my life of the inhibited recluse.

     Fierce restlessness is a feeling I’ve grown accustom to over time. For as long as I can remember I've struggled with an eternal emptiness of sorts. I only recently accepted that the bane of my existence stretches far beyond the discontentment I suffer at the throes of my marital discord. Oddly, awareness of my internal turmoil has never progressed into any type of real soul searching. I’ve made an art form of conformity and settled for life as it arrived. I’ve always assumed this was all there was for a girl that mothered too soon and married far too quickly. All of that changed the year we unexpectedly move 800 miles away from the only home I’ve ever know. There I was sitting in my office, new to D.C. and after six months still feeling like a visitor. I finally arrived east where I always longed to be, in the place I’ve always imagined my soul was born. I was finally a cars drive away from the place of my prideful declaration; in another life I was an Italian New Yorker. Yet here I was incredibly lonely, more than ever before. My sync was off my sensors were down and indisputably at this point was merely useless.

     My lack of motivation showed in my work and I sheepishly resorted to a new manifestation of hermit-like tendencies. Here I had relocated my entire life some 800 odd miles away from everything that resembled comfort and safety and yet despite my grand ambitions my life and I had fallen back into the same sad state of affairs. I spent day after day in a haze, wondering through task and moments incoherent and disconnected. Then in the awkwardness of those unfulfilling moment’s clarity set in and I finally arrived at the source that troubled my soul. Standing at the door wall of my snow-covered terrace, teary eyed and full of exasperation I finally admitted that fear has held me captive all of these years. The fear of failure, the fear of unknowing, the fear of being right the fear of being wrong and the list of fears goes on and on whirling through my mind in a vicious cyclone of nonsense.

     It’s absolutely shameful if you meditate on it long enough. Nearly 38 years old, fifteen years of marriage and five children later I stood in an unfamiliar place looking out a window realizing I was no more sure of who I am than that unclear glazed reflection of myself staring back at me. How could this be, how could a person of reasonable intellect this late in the stage of life still be searching to find them self? Oddly enough that was the grand moment, the few moments of standing still was all it took for reality to bit. All these years and all the potential I've held and yet I am staring back at my reflection asking who on earth are you? It's almost insanely laughable but dreadfully real. I chose to take huge shortcuts in my life and those shortcuts undoubtedly took me down unfavorable paths of near destruction, definite hardship and extreme heart ache; frankly I’m not sure how on earth I survived. Yes, I can actually sit perfectly still with my MAC on my lap and type the words out loud; my life has been a miserable path of bad judgment, horrific mistakes, and at least a dozen, million absolutely wrong doings. At least I survived.

     Cliché or no Cliché “Knowing is half the battle”; I use it far too often, and honestly I’m pretty sure I don’t believe? I know what my trouble is, I even know the source of my demise but what I don’t know is how the fuck to fix it! Okay, okay… Pardon my four-letters; it’s shocking I know and definitely a page stopper after reading my articulate display of whimsical wordage. But for a mere second let’s be brutally honest… Sometimes, some emotions can only be nakedly expressed with the inappropriate uses of a little four-letter word or two; this is one of the emotions and most definitely the most appropriate of moments.

     Honestly, I’m just tired of searching and wondering through my life feeling empty and devoid. I want to live in an over the top expression and feel complete. I want girlfriends I can’t wait to pick up the phone and call and conversations I despise ending. I want back those fleeting moments of bated breath, runaway thoughts and overwhelming emotional bliss. I crave the eroticisms of never-ending fulfillment and a sense of contentment so pure all else is silenced. I want to live in all of the moments, the good the bad and indifferent. I want to beam of radiant love and serenity while seeping the pure essence of a soul at ease. These ambitions are larger than life and frankly more authenticate than any material desire. Wow, I’ve managed to yet again shock myself! Yes, I’ve arrived at yet another cliché; but this one I’m not afraid to own; money will not buy happiness of any real and valuable sort. I know, I know this coming from the girl professed to be a “Collector of all things Chanel”… lol its funny how life can screw with your game!