Fantasy

I'm smiling today. Partly because this song takes me back to elementary school, when my secret dream was to be "a STAR". Like a Rachel Berry kind of star - but not nearly as over-confident. We would have events at my school that would showcase the talents of the student body...and I was determined to be the star, though I never fully verbalized it.

Did I contemplate a little sabotage? Hell yes I did. I wanted the spotlight. I didn't want to share it. I sometimes think I still do - believe a bit in my potential for fame and the reveal that - holy crap - I'm kind of talented :).

Usually my musings end with meeting up with one or another of my famous, still eligible crushes, who then whisks me away so that we can adopt random kids from around the world and count our money. In a castle. But don't worry - I've made sure my close friends and family each have a castle of their own.

I'm not ashamed to admit to daydreaming like an eight year-old.

After the darkness of the past week, I had a conversation with a great friend of mine, whose opinion and advice I respect enough to almost always take. He has gone from a fairly respectable career that left no time for his creativity to grow (being a late bloomer like myself), to a forgettable one that has allowed for him to follow all creative avenues. It is definitely showing in his work. He's by no means rich, or financially comfortable really, but you can feel the difference in his spirit. So when I told him about the one fear/fantasy I still had, after having conquered my fear of painting, he said "Girl, what the fuck are you waiting for?"

Indeed. What am I waiting for?

I woke up this morning and wrote a song. A whole song. I was shocked I could do it. Shocked that it came as easily as it did. Shocked that it was pretty good. Reminded me of that night I picked up a paintbrush for the first time in almost 20 years.

This feels good. Familiar but different. More mature. Exciting.

Not sure you'll see me on X-Factor (I hate those shows), but I am going to actively pursue my music.

Slowly but surely putting the pieces of me back together. Maybe its that every time I shatter, I find something I thought was missing, add it on, building myself surer and stronger every day.

The journey...is turning out to be pretty badass. <3

Love ya'll.

-Asha

(Sung by Mariah Carey)

Fooled Ya Baby

When something ends, unexpectedly, you always have two choices: cry yourself a river, build a bridge, and then get the fuck over it, or settle into a cycle of despair with no way out.

It doesn't matter about the lies, the promises, how you let yourself be used and mistreated. You don't get a medal for being the good girl, supportive, willing, caring. You don't get a do-over when these things happen. The best you can do is try to learn something...

So here's what I learned.

There is no such thing as loving a man who refuses to acknowledge you in public. Who makes you feel like you are less than, who will not hold you when your life is falling apart, who has a convenient wall he likes to use to keep you at arm's length. You cannot fully love a man who refuses to man the fuck up. Who hides behind faith instead of inspiring it in you, who cannot apologize, who participates in the darkness with you but then holds up his hands at the consequences, preferring to sweep them, and your feelings, under the rug.

A man who lies about things. Like where he says he is to his friends when he is looking at you over the phone. When the text he accidentally sent to you is the lie he is giving family about his vacation - that is really a trip to see you. You dress up, go out, support him, and he refuses to acknowledge he knows you as more than an acquaintance.

Love does not hide in the dark.

So while I allowed myself to be fooled - and at the same time fooled myself - I think back on my efforts to forgive. I don't forget, but I did try to forgive. I know that something in my heart died when he asked me to lie for him, because it would save his livelihood, his status...

She told me later he'd lied about that.

I wonder if I have "Love Fool" stamped on my forehead.

When he let loose on me on Monday - it was like someone else had overtaken his body. The words were cold and careless, ripping the biggest insecurity I have from my heart and slapping me in the face with it. This is why, and this, and look in the mirror - who could love this? Plus - how fucked up is your life? You're always sad, you always need support, you always need someone to have your back... Fuck that I have my own life to live and I'm not going to have your bad shit messing mine up.

Every word like a boot to the kidney. I kept thinking "is this love? This can't be love."

Today...today I don't know. There is a big bloody hole in me. I am not okay. Since Monday I've been on this risky search for some semblance of love...or even like. Not smart - but I was hurting and should therefore be given a pass.

How is it that, twice in my life, of the men I've loved enough to let in, to give up my constant heart to, twice I've been shocked and badly burned by them?

Ever feel like this?

Struggling with putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe tomorrow it will be easier.

Breathing.

-Asha

Gone Til November

Last night I dreamt that I was walking in a cemetery, very upset, at night, and I was trying my best not to walk over anyone’s grave in the dark… It was the same one I’d walked through the day before in real life. My mind at that time had been on the two babies who would never have a tombstone, one of which would never have a grave site to visit. It made me sad as I walked past little graves for children that didn’t live past eight months as I imagined how I would feel in that situation. I’ve been living in my own mindspace for a while, extremely aware of how lonely a life I live, how much I’ve felt that my “me time” is wasted. I could be using that time to fall in love. I’ve been there before – I feel like being there again wouldn’t take much out of me. There are many behaviors I would gladly trade for the experience of growing, raising, and loving a child. Yes, I’ve been having a fun and interesting time…but its empty. Like working at a job while you try to find a career, or paying rent while saving for a house. It requires a lot of time and energy, but you end with a negative return.

So, in my dream, I’m walking through this graveyard, once again upset with the empty life I’ve allowed and created for myself…when I hear a baby cry. First thought is “uh oh. Ghost Baby.” I’m aware that I’m dreaming, so I’m wondering if this is going to be a zombie dream or a vampire-slayer dream. I know I can’t be hurt, safe in my dreamspace, so I walk towards the sound…and nearly stumble over a beautiful baby girl. It’s dark so I can only tell that she’s alive, so real I can smell her skin, and absolutely beautiful. I feel like I’m strangling on every emotion I have… like my heart just exploded. My hands are trembling but I pick her up anyway.

She’s mine. I don’t know how I know, I don’t care that I’m dreaming. She belongs to me and we both know it. It’s cold and she’s in a blanket that has leaves from the ground tangled in it. I take her up, blanket and all, put her to my chest and zip up my jacket around her. She’s not crying anymore. More making snuffling, settling noises. I want to cry, I want to run away with her and raise her as my own. I start walking, faster, towards my car, before someone comes to take her away from me. No one comes. No one stops me. I leave my clothes behind, my luggage…everything. I just drive. I stop to feed her, get some diapers, but I don’t think about caring for myself. That quick – she’s all there is.

The dream was a long one. I took her home to meet my family. I don’t know if I made it clear I wouldn’t answer any questions about her…because they didn’t ask. My mom took her from my arms and held her close, made no comment of how she didn’t quite look like me. She smiled at my dad who asked her name. I said her name was November. She looked me in the eye as if she was saying “yes, that’s my name.”

This dream of mine seemed to go on for years…five years. And during that time I found myself frustrated, anxious, exhausted, exhilarated, and more happy and in love than I’ve ever been in my life. Through that love for my daughter, I found more to add to my life, opened up to someone I wouldn’t have beforehand, gave my little November a brother (Angel), settled in with a man who supported every creative, crazy part of me, and could not believe that this was what my life had become…

Then I woke up. And it was like a burning knife in my stomach No husband, no Angel. No November.

So today…today I’ve got my mind on making those things happen. There are tiny flecks of potential for it all over. But it will require letting go of past and current fear. Of those people in my life who aid it – due to their own past and current fear. Opening up – all the way up – to what could be…and will be…if I let it.

It made me wonder if this…all of this…is the reason. The dream. November. If this is what I have to look forward to after years of hurt, misunderstandings, learning as much as possible about all sides of myself, daring to dream and do and see and feel… Someone else might think that having a child, a family, a happy life, wouldn’t be enough, that more – something like fame and fortune – would almost be enough…

But they aren’t me. If I can spend my life baking cookies and writing novels and painting inappropriate pictures and making lunch for my children and holding onto my husband’s hand while we walk the dogs at night, stealing kisses and discussing a third child…. I would have my dream life.

Now for action.

With love,

Asha