The Locker Room
Road Rage - How Justice Was Metted Out in the Route 7 Corridor

An Open Heart

Openheart I debated whether or not tonight's post belonged on this site or one of the others but decided that in the interest of full disclosure, it might as well be right out in the open.  So if you've had too much of my heaviness lately, pass on this one.  I promise to lighten up in the future and write something mind numbingly funny. 

The scanned painting has had a couple of names but I think I finally landed on OpenHeart today. I did this about ten years ago, maybe a little longer in what I'd call my second chrysalis phase.

I had recently left my first husband and was busy emotionally puking up ten years or more of repression.  I went back into the LifeSpring arena where I'd taken their Basic training back in 1983 when I was just nineteen years old and run screaming before I got as far as Advanced where you look full naked in the mirror and then put yourself back together. I thought back together might be a good idea. Useful even.

In my Advanced course I learned that I was a Judgmental Ice Queen.  I heard that I was a beautiful Barbie doll (that was a new one on me, but feed back is feed back) but soulless (I'll buy that).  I learned that I trusted no one, least of all myself and I had all the evidence in the world to support this. Nobody ever said I was wrong, just asked if this was what I wanted.

In the Advanced course (and yup, I'm breaking all kinds of ground rules here) you have the opportunity to forge a contract with yourself directly relating to who you want to be in the world.  It all boils down to a couple of trite words unless they actually mean something to you.  They mean the world to me and sometimes I have to haul out the rolled up piece of newsprint I wrote it on and signed in what might as well have been blood and have a go at it again.

Here it is.  This is my contract with myself.

I am an open, caring, passionate woman.

Yup, that's me, for sure. And God it hurts like a son of a bitch sometimes. I can feel my sinuses filling up just looking at it.

I had a trainer who asked me once, would I rather have a boxed heart or a broken heart. This was after having worked my case for some 45 minutes on the subject of mother abandonment, rape, bad marriage, husband abandonment, financial catastrophe, parental abandonment, physical and emotional abuse... you name it, there was a ton of god awful evidence. I weighed 105 pounds at the time.  I'm 5'6".  I shudder to think of the bone marrow loss that punishment I inflicted on myself is going to cost me later down the line. And other things I don't even know about.

He played me a piece of music, happened to be my all time favorite (still is) although if you can hear the bagpipes I think it's even better. Sounds like home calling me, some distant island off the coast of Ireland or Scotland. He played Amazing Grace and I went to pieces.

Sometimes the heart bleeds out like you're going to never stand again.  And sometimes there are transfusions in the most amazing places.  And sometimes you find there's more to you or me than meets the eye. And sometimes it hurts so bloody bad and we are so horrifically disappointed that we can't see the light of day. But at the end of the day, we are only worth what we can give away and the score won't be counted until the end.

(I don't know when is the end but I'm not counting either)

The other thing I learned is three fold - there's no such thing as safe and I am safe if I say I am. Safe is over-rated and possibly deadly.

Peace out.  I'll be funny tomorrow.