My Ladder

Time has a funny way of kicking us in the ass.  I had a friend in town the other night, so I went out to the bars.  We talked, we laughed, we joked, we gave each other a hard time.  We cajoled the youngest of us to down an oyster shooter when he really did not want to eat an actual oyster.  Then, as I'm on my way to the bar to order bacon cheese fries as a reward for downing said shooter, who should I run into but the boy who destroyed me when I was seventeen.

There were a lot of things that could have gone differently in my life.  Some that probably wouldn't have made too much difference, others that affected everything.

He changed so much.

I fell in love and got my heart broken, the real thing, when I was fifteen.  He was cute, he was sweet, he treated me like gold. I was completely smitten.  But life didn't work in our favor, he broke it off and I pined over that boy for 5 years, finally letting go the day he married the woman who is now his wife and the mother of his child.

He broke my heart, but he didn't break me.  Eventually, I got my confidence back.  I smiled again and it reached my eyes.  I danced, I laughed, and I truly enjoyed my life.  I moved on, even though I kept him tucked away.  A bittersweet memory that I cherished in a way you only cherish your first love.

But I was leery.  I didn't want to fall again, I didn't want to risk it.  Then, when I was sixteen, I met this boy at a party.  At first, it was fun, new and just short of obsessive on both sides.  It was scary, but I fell again.  But after a while, it got bad.  He was still sweet, still adored me, but in between the smiles would be the careless little ribs that slowly chipped away at my core.  By the time I finally got the courage to break it off, my soul had been ripped to shreds because with every little dig, every sharp comment or guilty verbal slap, I believed him.  I let him tear me down, put weight on my shoulders that didn't belong until I was flat on the floor trying as hard as I could to crawl out from beneath it.

I was no longer that strong, confident. larger than life girl that I once was.

When I was seventeen, one boy achieved the impossible.  He broke me.

I spent two years hating him.  Then, one day, I decided enough was enough.  I didn't want to let him win even by deeming him important enough to hate.  So I contacted him, apologized for any hurt I caused because I wanted it off my chest and tried to let him go.

No such luck.  We actually became friends.  He helped me through some really hard times and was genuinely there for me. For a while.  And it was fun.  I actually felt like me again.  I told him everything he did, all the damage done.  I laid it all out.  And I thought it would stop.

When I met the man who is now my husband, I realized how wrong I was.  It never stopped.  And he never actually saw me as important enough to see as a person and not a piece of ass he could manipulate.  I flipped, let my formidable temper fly, and we ceased to be.

Over the last few years, I would start to miss him.  Not necessarily him as a boyfriend, but him as a friend.  And more importantly, who I got to be with him.  Because those years were some of the worst and some of the most fun I've ever had.  So I missed him.  Or so I thought.

Then I saw him again the other night and I realized, I don't miss him.  I miss me.

At first, all I could think was holy mother of God, please let this nightmare end.  Then we talked and it wasn't so bad.  It was just...awkward.  Until he walked out of the bar and my breath came out in a loud whoosh.  Then I panicked.

But, seeing as I truly am one of the luckiest girls in the world and have absolutely amazing friends, it didn't last long.  They calmed me down, gave me my feet and handed me my spine.  I found my grip and I held on for dear life.  When he came back and tried to follow us, they ushered me away all but telling him to f*** off, and got me out of sight.  It took another ten minutes and a seriously strong vodka cran, but I came down enough to dance and forget the bad memories that followed me out on the town.

The funny thing is, if I never dated him in high school, I don't know that I would be who I am.  So in a way, I should both thank and curse him.

See, I have scars.  Deep as chasms, and wide as canyons.  Most days I can keep them closed.  But sometimes, something triggers them and nightmares surface, sending a river of pain cascading through the dark.  He did that to me.  But I let him, and I think that's why they're so deep.

I would be a completely different person.  I wouldn't balk at compliments.  I wouldn't feel like I wasn't good enough.  I wouldn't feel alone.

But I also wouldn't be as strong as I am.  That I can thank him for.  He gave me the opportunity to access that strength.  So for that, I owe him.  As for the rest, that was all me.

I'm not perfect.  Far from it.  I'm not nice, exactly.  I have a temper, and lately, I've embraced my inner bitch.  It's not always pretty, but it's part of who I am.  I have flaws to go with my scars and if you could see my soul, I'm pretty sure it would make a pretty intricate design of scars in various states of healing.

But I manage.  I have strength even if I don't reach my full potential all the time.  I'm stubborn enough to keeping kicking life's ass when needed and I laugh enough to keep the bitchiness from being too much.  Those that I love, love me right back despite all those things.  Or maybe because of.  I have a kind heart, a keen mind and a sharp tongue.  I'm loyal and protective, caring, and somewhat bossy.

Because of all that, I make a fierce friend.  But a formidable enemy.

I guess I'm doing okay, truth be told.  The people in my life make the hard days better and I will always be grateful them.  The people who have hurt me or been hurt by me --because I am in no way perfect-- become the rungs on my ladder and each day I have to choose to reach up to the next one and let go of the last.

I do.  And each time it's for my little girl.  My husband.  My family and friends.  It's for the wonderful, plethora of people that help to make me, me.  And it's because I don't want to fall backwards.  Not ever again.

What can I say?  I'm afraid of heights.

Wasted Time

Do you ever find yourself desperate to do something else? Anything else?  I'm sitting at work, bored out of my mind, running through the gigantic list of everything else I have to do.  I have work to do, I just really do not want to do it.  Why is it that I can't work from home and then have the work be what I actually want to do?  Is that asking too much? 

Maybe it is.  Maybe we just have to work and work and work or maybe that's just America. 

What happened to actually enjoying life?  What happened to having the time to look around you and truly see the world instead of watching it pass you by?  We try so hard to get through the work week, can't wait until Friday, but what we don't always realize is that's another five days of your life that you can't get back. 

Did you live it the way you wanted to?  Did you do the things you wanted to?  Did you even appreciate being alive, having a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food in your belly?  I know I don't.  I get up, hating the moment when I have to roll out of bed, praying that my daughter stays asleep just fifteen minutes longer so I can get ready for work without chasing her around to keep her out of trouble.

  Then I barely get any time with her and I'm wishing the morning could be longer.  Before I know it I'm dropping her off with somebody else for the day and by the time I get her in the evening she's tired and cranky, so am I, and I get maybe two hours with her before she goes to bed, most of which is occupied by cooking, eating and bathing.  If we're lucky, we get in a good game of chase, maybe sing the ABC's a few times, read a couple books and play hide and seek.  If we're lucky.  She goes down, my husband and I clean up, shower and he goes to bed.  I write, but by then it's nearly nine o'clock and I have to leave by 7:30 the next morning.  This is my life Monday through Friday.  Five days a week. 

Where in there do we even have time to really do the things we love?  If I had it my way, I would work from home, raise my own child, and really get to spend time with her. 

I wouldn't be so tired that all I want to do is relax and have quiet time when my husband wants to spent time with me.

  I would have dinner done at a reasonable time so we wouldn't have to spend the entire evening going, going, going.  We could go do things, see things, learn things.  Instead, it's a never ending schedule with a two day weekend that is never long enough. 

One day I will have the life I want.  Because I refuse to be on my death bed wondering what happened to the time that was my life.

Burned Bridges

One of the biggest regrets of my life is the way I treated one particular person.  A confidant, a lover.  A friend. See, there was this boy.  There's always a boy.  And we were friends for years before we somehow ended up dating.  And because of that friendship, I trusted him with almost all of my secrets and I like to think he did the same with me.  I could talk to him about anything.  Everything.  And I relied on him in a time where I couldn't do anything else.  I wasn't in love with him, but I loved him dearly on just about every level. 

Yet, it wasnt' enough.  I freaked out because I was pretty sure he was more serious about me than I was about him.  I was scared and so not ready for anything more than what we had.  I started making excuses, dodging calls, and then I cut him off completely in a time where he really could have used a friend.  I abandoned him.  It was one of the worst mistakes I ever made.

Here I was with this amazing person who cared about me in so many ways and I was pushing him out of my life because I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth.  Which, because of other events in my life, also makes me a hypocrite.  Wonderful.

Anyway, when I finally got the nerve to talk to him again, he was so hurt and so angry I thought he would never forgive me.  But he did.  Because he's so much better than I am.  Then he went off to war.  I will never forget when he told me he was shipping out.  I thought I was scared of a relationship and then suddenly I was fearing for his life.  I cried so hard.  When I got his first letter when he was in training I cried again.  My heart bled for him.  But I didn't write back.  I tried.  I started letters and threw them away.  I wrote letters and never sent them.  Over the years, I've gotten his address, written letters and never sent them.  I just couldn't get the words out.  I never knew what to say to make anything better.  Which, of course, is no excuse.  I turned my back on him again.Because I was scared.  I've written emails, but no response.  Now he's blocked me on Facebook.

And who can blame him?  I'm a horrible person where he's concerned.  But just in case he ever reads this...

I am so sorry for everything.  I'm a terrible person where you're concernced and a poor excuse for a friend.  I should have been there for you like you always were for me.  I thought about you every day.  Still think about you every day.  I hope you're safe.  I hope you're happy.  You are one of the best people I know and I will always regret that I didn't tell you that every chance I got.  That I didn't treat you the way I should have.  I'm sorry I hurt you.  I'm sorry I wasn't a stronger person.  You deserved so much better than I gave and for that I will never again be worthy of your friendship.  I hope one day you'll find it in your heart to forgive me, but even if you can't, I wish you nothing but the best.  You deserve everything you want out of life. 

Love Always,

Chelsea

Stand Up

A coworker mentioned something about the movie, Avatar,

the other day that got me thinking.  She said that it was basically a rip off of Fern Gully. 

Girl is daughter of the chief, Boy is coming to destroy everything they love as part of a bigger company, Boy is immersed in Girl's world, tries to save it, Boy and Girl fall in love and fight together to save what they believe in.  The end.  And, I guess, in a nut shell she would be right.  But so what?  Isn't that plot line a bit generic anyway?  There are so many movies where that's true, so many books, even stories in history, so would Fern Gully be a rip off of Pocahontas?

  Which, I might add, is a true story.

When I watched Avatar, the basic plot isn't what struck me.  What I noticed, what I was moved by, was the innate ability of a people to rise up against a common enemy, to risk their very nature, their homes, their lives for a cause that would seem too great, even hopeless, for one person alone. 

I've been struck by revolution lately.  Be it in a book, a movie, everyday life, it does't matter.  The thought of sitting idly by thinking nothing can be done while things that are wrong keep happening repulses me.  You can't change anything by wishing it away.  Action must be taken.

There are so many examples of the few overcoming the many.  The weak triumphing over the strong because what the weak have that their adversary lacks is heart. 

So what about the revolutions in the small things?  What about taking control of your every day life instead of just thinking that some day it will get better?  Making the necessary changes to accomplish your duties, your goals? Your dreams.  Why shouldn't we do what needs to be done?  Take risks, walk away from ugly words and hurtful people.  From those who think your dreams are too big, not practical.  Are unlikely to become a reality.  Change your life.  Because in the end, the one truth is that life is too short to be anything but happy.

It's All About the Lifestyle Change

The difference between the life I'm living and the life I should be living is self-discipline.  Apparently, I don't have it.  Working out, money, cleaning.  Nothing.  It's there for a while and then it's not.  It truly is a bummer that i can't get it down.  There are so many things about my life that I want to change. 

I have about 25 lbs to lose.  I'm awful with money, so I need a budget.  I need to keep my house clean not only for my own sanity and my daughter's health, but it would significantly help with my marriage.  He's a neat freak.  I am sooo not.  I have an entire subject I want to study more efficiently and I'd like to start meditating.  The only thing I do without fail right now is my writing.  THAT is not the way to keep my life balanced.  So I need help.

I have so many plans in my head, but I never implement them.  It's a bad habit.  So here's the deal.  I fix it.  Once and for all I actually start doing the things I say I'm going to do and turn my life around.  If I can get me in order maybe I can figure out whether or not the rest of my life is as it should be and five years from now I'll be happy with what I see.

Wish me luck.

Drop in the Ocean

I heard once that grief was like the ocean.  It's deep, dark and bigger than us all.  When I think of grief, the first thing that comes to mind is death.  The loss of someone from this world forever, taken from their loved ones, never to be seen again.  This loss is terrible, the emptiness vast as the hollow ache in your heart takes root.  But for a lot of people, death is easier to get over than other types of grief.  There is nothing you can do to change it.  You have no choice. You either move on or perish with them.

But there are so many types of grief.  The loss of someone you love is hard.  It's even harder when they leave by choice.  How many holes can riddle a heart before it is broken beyond repair?  How many pieces can be given away before there's nothing left to give?  For some, a loss like that is something they leave in their past.  They accept it and move on.  I'm not that strong.  When I give someone a piece of my heart, be it family, lover or friend, it is a gift.  It's not something I take back, so when they're gone so is that part of me, leaving me with an emptiness in its place. 

Everyone becomes someone else around different people. There is one person, or a group of people, who inspire you to bring out a different side.  A facet, if you will.   Sometimes you're studious, carefully taking notes; flirtatious, just because it's fun. Other times you may be serious because you have responsibilities or goofy and childlike because you just don't care what the world thinks. What amazes and at times astounds and confuses me is that I can't always seem to find that person without the one who inspires it. Lately I've found that I miss being happy and carefree. Even when I had things to worry about, people counting on me, I found that I could look at the world as warm, caring and full of wonder. I had a childlike curiosity that bubbled to the surface in a giggle -- though not as annoying as that sounds. But now, I can't seem to find it. So I find myself missing that one person who always made it possible.  One of my biggest faults is that when that person goes, something in me dies. That facet hides itself away and only an echo remains, just waiting to be awoken.  The one who brought out the side of me that embraced and enjoyed life down to the last drop is gone.   Once, the girl who could look at the stars with wonder, find the one that I was looking for and forget that I could see no other in the vast sky beyond, refused to be silenced.  Now I can't find her voice.

That's the personal loss that comes when someone leaves.  At least for me.  But what about the rest?   There were nights after I lost the boy I dated in college, after I left him because I knew we were toxic for each other, that I would crawl up onto my roof and cry for hours.  Horrible, heart-wrenching sobs that would rock my entire body until I had to curl up around myself just to keep the pieces from shattering into the night and blowing away on the slightest breeze.  I was afraid I would never stop crying, that the pain would never dissapate. 

People always say that the pain and garbage, the aching that comes with loss and heart ache is part of the healing process.  Part of letting go.  People are wrong.  It's just pain and garbage.  The healing happens when you decide to get up and start living your life again.

It's hard.  Believe me.  But it is possible.  Life is worth living.  Even on your darkest days you have to remember that there is a reason to get up.  Grief may be an ocean, dark and deep and bigger than us all.  You just have to learn to swim. 

I wrote this poem when I was nineteen, about that same boy.  After days of drowning, I finally surfaced.  And one day I put pen to paper and I started to write.  Something I hadn't been able to do in weeks.  After three days of writing and editing, the words that appeared to me on that page promised that I would be okay. 

Smile at the Shoreline...

 

I’m a stranger to Sleep,

an aquaintance to Nightmare.

My sanctuary’s left me

for a land dark and bare.

Struggling for light,

sweet relief’s yet to come.

I still know the pain

but I only feel numb.

It’s a silent emptiness

that’s consuming my soul.

My life continues as before

but I have yet to feel whole.

I’m a shadow on the outside

looking into my world.

I’m not quite connected

to the tears of the girl.

You’ve stolen my heart,

you’ve stolen my life force.

Now I’m left to stumble

down this uneven course.

You pushed and you prodded

using guilt as your pole.

You kept breaking my strength,

leaving in your wake, gaping holes.

You need to feel guilty.

You deserve the heavy load.

Now you can feel what I’ve felt

Struggling down rocky roads.

Carry that burden

while fighting alone in the dark.

Then you’ll know how I felt

while you were breaking my heart.

Feel the bite of the ache,

the sting of the hurt.

Feel the pain press upon you

as the hellfire burns.

My mind’s chained to you,

held fast, not unlocked.

Your heart holds the key,

but that path I’ve blocked.

It’s a terrifying prison,

for I long to be free.

I only fear if you come close

you’ll end up chained to me.

So I carry these irons

through the dark waters near shore,

the shackles that bind me

to the pain, on the floor.

Do you feel how I feel?

Have you caught a glimpse of it yet?

Have you felt the yearning,

seen the light you can’t get?

Have you crashed through the ocean

unable to breathe?

I don’t reach for you.

I’m reaching for me.

You are the black waters,

the guilt and pain crashing down.

As the sharp sorrow surrounds me,

you take my breath, I start to drown.

But though I’m thrashed by the waves,

I’ll reach the surface yet.

Though I may be pummled by waters,

my strength Dark won’t get.

I’ll live again, breathe in the pain.

I’ll smile, stronger than before.

And while your memory may haunt me,

I’m standing solid on the shore.

 

This is probably the best poem I’ve ever written. It’s one of love, sorrow and heartbreak, but most of all, it’s one of strength. And while I may not be feeling that particular way anymore, it’s always a good reminder that things have been worse, and I’ve gotten through it. The old saying is true.
"What doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger." This is my reminder that I’m strong enough to make it. And stubborn enough too. :)

The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins have recently become my new obsession.

I believe that The Hunger Games is the most powerful and moving, not to mention heart wrenching trio of books I have ever read. It's more than just a story, or even a rebellion, definitely more than a teen romance. It is a movement, a revolution against a totalitarian government, a glimpse of the true horrors and the miraculous heart that human beings possess. It doesn't just represent one side, but both, presenting the reader with a protagonist who is not perfect, but like most readers themselves, she is flawed, undecided in what is truly right and wrong in war and in life. In love. That in itself is inspiring. However, when added to the fact that the characters showed true courage, rising up against those in power to fight for what was right, what they believed in, even in the face of danger, death and loss, the books moved me to tears. For true evil is not just fed by actions of those who side with it, but by those who sit by and do nothing. Suzanne Collins created a masterpiece in which she has captured the human spirit, for better or for worse, and if ever I accomplish my dream, fame and fortune aside, I hope to be able to create something that is as meaningful and as inspiring as this story. Because really, the terrible truth is a reality like The Hunger Games is not that far off.

A friend asked me why it had to be so realistic.  She said she could feel their pain as if it were her own.

But I think that’s the point. It is real. It could actually happen. Look at when it is. It’s not too far in the future, and it’s in North America. Those who came before (us) had no regard for those who would come after and we destroyed our planet, leaving the generations after us to deal with the consequences. In the mess that was left, the Capitol, (probably a metaphor for the 1% of our population that carries most of our wealth) rose up and made the rest of Panem virtually their slaves. A rebellion would most definitely ensue and if the government won, is it really that far off to think that they would prove their power by creating the Hunger Games? Look at our society, look at the obsession we have with reality TV. It’s entertainment to see people’s dreams destroyed or to see their hearts broken. We have movies about people hacking each other up. There have been two movies where inmates provide entertainment in a fight to the death. How long before a movie becomes a reality, especially in a broken society like Panem? And then, how long before the rest of the population would rise up against the government? It really isn’t much of a stretch if you think about it. I think that’s what makes the story so powerful. It’s not like Twilight. The main characters don’t all survive and have happy endings. Even in Harry Potter where she killed off a lot of the characters, the message of the Hunger Games is much bigger. And without the wizard and magical element, it is real. Or could be.

I've read these books almost three times in the last month, which is strange, even for me.  Yet, I still can't get enough.  Every time, I am moved beyond belief.  Inspired. I truly am obsessed. I bought all the magazines, read dozens of interviews. I even sat four hours in line to get a good seat for the midnight premiere. 

I have to say, I was slightly disappointed in the screen play, but overall I was impressed.  The casting was perfect, the acting superb.  The main characters were portrayed to the best of their ability even if the script for the character left something to be desired, but I'll go into that another time.  I could go on and on.  For now, I'll just say...my compliments.

As for the disgusting comments made on Twitter about the actors who played the characters of Rue, Thresh and Cinna,

I thought those three actors were wonderful, and FYI, the casting was spot on.  People astound me. Why is it so hard to appreciate one another for our good attributes and who we are as people instead of condemning them for the color of their skin? One day, those who judge others based on their race are going to find themselves in a position where they are the minority. I can only hope that when that day comes, those same people are faced with others who can look beyond the color of their skin and treat them as equals, showing them that it's better to take the high road and hopefully giving them a look at what its like to be a decent human being. God willing, I'll be there to watch how the "mighty" will fall.

Let me introduce you...

"You're an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in a little dark haired girl."

Yeah, I'd say that about sums it up. My name is Chelsea. I'm 26 years old. I am the mother of a beautiful little girl and wife to a wonderful man. 

My dream is to become an author and have my books made into a movie.  That would be the ultimate compliment.  And I'm good. That's one thing I won't be modest about. Believe me, I will get published, and I will make all my dreams come true. I'm also very determined, (can you tell?) and when I set my mind on something, I usually get what I want.  Which is why I've already finished one draft of a book, though I need to add in a few juicier scenes, and I'm working on two connected trilogies.  If I wasn't so busy, I'd be on a roll.  I'm obsessed with books. Every chance I get, there's a book in my hand.

And, I'm a nightmare in a bookstore. When I'm not reading stories, I'm writing them. Every day, there's a new story in my head, that swirls around until I finally sit down and get it out. I'm a pretty laid back person, although I think way too much. I love to laugh and have fun, and I'm forever a kid at heart. I'm stubborn, opinionated, outspoken, and loud. I do get frustrated easily, but give me a second, and I get over it just as quickly. Basically, I'm just a pain in the ass, but in a good way, if that's possible. I'm a huge klutz, and the only time I ever have balance is when I'm dancing. Which I do all the time. In the car, in the grocery store, standing in line. When I'm bored, I dance. I love kids, and I love animals. And mine definitely keep me on my toes! I love my friends and I love my family. I've been in love and I've had my heart broken. And more importantly, I survived. Which, I believe, led me to my husband, who is the love of my life. I believe in God, and I believe in the supernatural. I don't like hypocrites and I hate to be judged, especially by people who should know better. I think you should live your own life and do what's right for you, even if it seems to twist and turn out of your control. Be persistent and you'll get a handle on it again eventually. (Just in time for it to be ripped out from under you again!) I'm firm in my opinions and I hate to be proven wrong, but I love to learn. I believe that every man, woman, and child was created equal regardless of age, gender, race, religion, social standing or sexuality. And most of all, I believe that you should go out and live life before you look back one day and wonder where the years have gone. Take a look around and enjoy what you have while you have it, because believe it or not, you're gonna miss this. This is all we have. So smile, because all we have is amazing.