Emotions

Cool Sculpting

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 4 Comments

So last week I decided to do something extravagant for myself. I decided to have my stomach cool sculpted. In case you haven’t heard, it is that completely safe procedure in which approximately 20% of the fat cells in a targeted area are frozen and they die a slow and painful death; this in direct contrast to the rapid rate of expansion that they seemed to have undergone during my 40’s.

Anyway, cool sculpting is suppose to leave you several inches thinner with a figure reminiscent of when you were a “way before kids” 20 something. The problem with all of this is that it is  hideously expensive… even with a coupon or two. But heading into my 56th birthday I decided I was tired of looking like a pouchy kangaroo and exercise just wasn’t taking care of it. Losing almost 60 pounds over the last few years also made my bad look worse in some places but exceedingly so in my stomach area. So I did it. I pulled up my big girl panties, added some glitter, and sauntered on in.

All I can say is thank goodness I took the mega strength aspirin an hour before check-in time. Who knew that your gut could be stuffed in something like a itty bitty frozen sausage casing and survive. As my belly went in the machine my toes curled causing massive cramping and I swear my head stood on end but after about 10 minutes my body slowly began to adjust to the pulling sensation. It was akin to wearing nipple clamps…or so I am told.

Finally after an hour of this self imposed torture, I was dismissed by the skinny blonde who has never had a weight problem a single day in her blessed life.

“Drink plenty of water,” said Debbie. “Remember, no strenuous exercise within the first 24hours (have I ever done anything strenuous?). And don’t be discouraged it will take approximately 3 months for the final results. Oh, and by the way you will have bruising and within a few days you will feel something akin to internal itching. Just ignore it. Eventually it will go away.”

So now, six days after the procedure, the itching has kicked in.Only it doesn’t feel like itching it feels like teeny tiny pinpricks are occurring throughout my abdomen. In addition, I look like a mule just kicked me. All of this is making me slightly on edge and somewhat discouraged…as if I wasn’t all ready!

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Have you ever had once of those times in your life when the stars aligned and you met the right person at just the right time? Well, it happened for me today and not one day too late. In an attempt to find my zen, I went to the gym and as I was telling my classmates that I had this done, one woman piped up and told me she had her flank, stomach, and inner thighs sculpted. I almost fainted. She is older than me and let me tell you she looks FANTASTIC. Sure she weighs about 30 pounds less than I do but she tells me that the difference between before and after is amazing. In fact, she shared with me that she never told her husband that she had done all this and one day while getting out of the shower he took a good look at her and said, “What the hell has happened to you? You look amazing!” Of course, then she had to fess up but he thought it was all worth it.

Now I know we are suppose to love our bodies like we love ourselves and I get the importance of all that.It’s vital to develop those inner qualities which draw people to you like a moth to a flame. But unfortunately, for most women, loving your body is much harder than it should be for all those nonsensical reasons thrust upon us by the media and men. So when I think about all those wasted years when I was a young woman wishing my ass wasn’t so big, that my boobs were bigger, my legs were longer and my stomach flatter; well, it makes me kind of wistful and sad. Why couldn’t I just appreciate what I had going for me then, which, in truth sounds kind of hypocritical of me now considering what I have just done. But as much as I hate to admit it, even at my age, my looks do matter to me.  Especially naked… so much so that I will no longer shower with B. And when I write that it makes me want to throw up…but it is the sad…sad truth. It is my reality. I know better but knowing it doesn’t make me feel better and it doesn’t make me want to skinny dip in the moonlight like I did when I was young. Frankly, as I age I miss those tiny pleasures in life and I yearn for that kind of spontaneity once more. And damn it I want to shower with someone again and have hot steamy sex while doing it. So instead of sitting along the sidelines, which I do a lot more often than I would like to admit; I want to throw off the those body images that are weighing me down. Obviously, this means I have to make some changes both inside and out to find the kind of acceptance that I have been lacking. I have been working hard at it. Discovering who I am but also who I want to be in this later part of my life and how I want to look.

But then one day I had an epiphany. It FINALLY dawned on me that being able to love my body at this age would be better than never having loved it at all even if that means being somewhat superficial and paying a lot of money to do it. Sculpting away my love handles and my kangaroo pouch is a gift for myself. It is something done just for me. Yes, it’s vain. Yes, there are more noble/worthy things to have spent this money on BUT at this age I’ve realized that feeling good about yourself is also important. Even more important…I finally feel like I am worth whatever it is I decide to do!

So damn the torpedoes I’m going full steam ahead in this life, no matter where it takes me!

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Lost At Sea

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 3 Comments

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We are all sailors on the sea. We are told that we are captains of our own ships. We have the ability to sink our vessels or fight the high winds and 30 ft squalls to bring ourselves into port safely.I used to think this anyway. With this “maybe divorce” looming I am not so sure that I am my own captain anymore. Unfortunately, it appears that I let someone else take my wheel and they are slowly taking me down with my own ship.

For numerous years I have been lucky. The storms that have hit my married life have been small and few.They have been manageable and by hoisting a few sails we swiftly left those muddy ripples and sailed into calm waters. But should we have? Should we have taken every escape that came available to us instead of staying in the deep seas and bailing the waters that might capsize us? In fighting mother nature do you learn lessons about togetherness and working as a team that we missed by spending our time in spring showers rather than hurricanes? Maybe we would have known what to do when this single but mighty hurricane hit had we fought more side-by-side battles while at sea.

You would think I would know what to do. That surviving at sea would be in my blood; for I come from a long line of fishermen. Strong, brave folk who fought the weather and the ocean creatures to eek out a living stuffing cod into barrels. More than half of those men died young leaving young widows and children behind. Their names decay on plaques that dot the landscape in fishing towns throughout Canada and New England. They were Lost At Sea and so am I. Wheelless and rudderless I am sucked down into the riptides of a marriage that knows not where it’s going, but if it sinks, will ultimately leave the children behind and washed over by sadness.

Yet today, I refuse to abandon ship, standing by the captain as the waves wash over us. And I am scared, wet and shivering with buckets of tears rolling down my face, the saltwater stinging my skin, and I am, wanting for one brief second, just to feel the warmth that used to be an everyday part of my life envelop me once more.

Finally I pray… like most cowards looking into the eyes of the scary unknown…wanting some sort of guarantee that it all was for naught and there is some sort of salvation in the end.

“Our Father…” I begin, my teeth chattering…seawater filling my lungs as the waves toss me… separating me from the captain… slowly taking me under… and then… finally a long way away.

*All posts are copyrighted 2016 and may not be used without the consent of the author*

 

Looking For The Good-Positive Post #2

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 1 Comment

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The other night B and I were out taking our usual late night walk. It was a beautiful evening, cool and crisp, for this area of the country. The moon shone bright and the stars were singing the Twinkle song. Everything was perfect…except… where was the sparkle between us?

About mid-way through this jaunt we stepped into a quiet and very dark place where I told B, “I think that instead of concentrating on all the characteristics I don’t possess or all the things you feel are missing from this relationship, perhaps it would make us happier if we both looked for the good in one another.”

“That’s funny,” replied B. “That is exactly what my therapist said tonight and she gave me some homework to do in this area.”

Instantly we reached for each others hand, reemerged, and continued walking along.  Immediately I got that sense that both of us realized that by looking for the best in each other, instead of the worst, things felt immediately different. Better. For while you are in the dark there is nothing to see, but when you change perspective and step into the moonlight, the sparkle returns, and you can begin to be able to shine once more.

Shut Down

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 2 Comments

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I have noticed at the therapists office lately whenever I say something and the therapist asks how B feels about what I said, he replies “It makes me shut down when she says that, talks that way, responds that way, etc.” Frankly, its getting old. Put on your big boy jock strap and get over it for goodness sake!

You shut down years ago and now you use me as your excuse. You actually started shutting down when you were a kid. Now you are a middle aged man who is mad at himself for keeping in his feelings and not saying what was on your mind to your mother, to your family, and to me because we all “shut you down.”

But instead of being the scapegoat I think you need to put this one directly on your own shoulders for it seems to me that you “shut down” when you don’t want to deal with conflict or emotions or whenever something makes you uncomfortable.  You use “shut down” as an excuse to avoid…me, your feelings, or anything that makes you have to think in a way you do not want to. This then gives you the excuse to be righteous in your misplaced anger.

Your first response may be to shut down. You are not responsible for that first response but you are responsible for how long you choose to live with it.

So, in essence, shutting down is a really just a bad habit and it is a choice. Stop making that choice. PLEASE.

 

 

Chiggers

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 2 Comments

 

My therapist tells me that I need to “just sit with it.”

Don’t make any decisions and don’t go planning out your entire life

In a moment of fear or concern

Just sit with it…listen to it

But how does one do that with this sort of news?

Because as I sit in the silence

Trying to meditate myself out of the place I am in

I hear the incessant buzzing of an annoying insect

Trying to tell me something

That I don’t want to hear

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Just sit with it…feel it

But instead I feel the sharp bites of chiggers

Trying to get my attention

Biting around my ankles

So I will get up and move

From this place that is suppose to be a refuge

Away from what is suppose to be a peaceful spot in my mind

While agreeing with myself that sitting with “it”

Is much too hard

I know I over think… over analyze

I have enough 20-year freeze dried food

In my pantry I feed us for a year

In case of a holocaust

I am prepared for every disaster, every emergency

Except this….not this

B says, “I don’t want to think about the future

I just want to live in today”

Smart man

I wish I were that way

Able to block out what I do not want to deal with

Or compartmentalize things in lockers so deep

You die with them stuffed deep inside

Locks rusty and worn but secure

Taking them with you

To God knows where

Maybe that is hell

Having to look at those items over and over again

The things you refused to see

When you were alive

The things you could change  but chose not to

Or maybe hell is that place

Where you go over your plans a million times

Trying to change the outcome

But are unable so you remain in that

State of anxiety for eternity

Neither sounds appealing

So I will go and get the bug spray

In an attempt to remove these distractions

And sit with “it”

In the silence

Alone

 

 

Falling Spirits And Falling Faces

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 5 Comments

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My face is falling as are my spirits

My life in free fall too

The jowls of my life crammed and swollen full of life’s misery

While the jowls of my face sag and slide into other parts of my body

Lines like jump ropes criss cross my life

Over which I play an endless game of jump rope

The beat as they interrupt my life kerplop, kerplop, kerplop

In rhythm with my teardrops falling

While my heart goes into an arrhythmia making up its own disorganized beats

The lines around my eyes crinkle

Belting out a song sounding like an opera of sadness and worry

Madame Butterfly perhaps

These lines now permanent reminders of times gone by

And things yet to come

Scary things, sad things, worrisome things

Over which I have little to no control

Will I find joy with the hand I have been dealt?

Or must you look for it under rocks and in deep dark forests?

Elusive joy. Elusive happiness. Elusive everything

My eyes are closing through no fault of their own

Loose skin moving like an avalanche

And weighing them down

The suddenness of this onset surprising me

Taking me down

Down further than I have ever been

I hate it down here

In this sad and lonely place

I have given myself a week to digest this doctor’s news

Give myself a pity party

And then I shall climb back up

Plaster a smile upon my face

And find some sort of life

With the new knowledge at hand

What it will look like

I have no clue

Do we ever?

Copyright 2016 as are all writings put onto this blog

 

 

 

 

I’m Confused…Can Confusion Increase Creativity?

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / Leave a comment

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I’m confused. Most of my life I have been confused about one or two areas of my life at a time. Now I am confused about everything. My marriage, my children, how to plan for the future, how to sit with the silence and how to live in the now. Everything is confusing and I DON’T LIKE IT…one single bit.

One of the major issues I have with being confused is that often you cannot see the forest through the trees. This confusion often leads to living in limbo, a state I consider akin to having a gas mask at hand with a limited time sensitive filter. Knowing you cannot see, smell or watch the gas coming, do you put the mask on now and risk using up a filter that will protect you for a short but specific amount of time; or do you wait for the person next to you to drop and hope you are not too late in securing it around your face? Yep, for me limbo is one of the worst experiences known to man.

Yet, surprisingly, I have recently experienced confusion as a positive thing as well. Because it seems to me the more confused things are the more creative I’ve become. While confusion can shake your soul, rattle your senses and sometimes lead to a sense of paranoia because you can’t seem to do anything but stand there because either way you move seems equally dangerous or intimidating; it would appear that confusion can also lead to creativity. Instead of seeing only the limiting options of A or B, confusion often allows you to explore many paths that would normally go unnoticed like JJ, Z and Q. Confusion can stretch you, it can lead you and it often makes you examine minute details that while once seemed unimportant become pivotal to your understanding of the situation. It makes you ask the basic questions of:

Who

What

Where

Why

How

It is the answers to these questions which often help clarify the situation.

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So I am confused. Really confused. But I am also glad (kind of) because the way I am approaching problems and issues is bringing me a sense of peace that I have looked at all options as I walk this journey. At least all the ones that present themselves at this time. And I am okay with that. Because I am holding the hands of those who have gone before me and they are holding me tight so I feel safe and my doomsday gas mask is put in the deepest darkest corner of my Place of Mysteries.

https://myhusbandwantsadivorce.wordpress.com/2015/10/02/the-place-of-mysteries-303-days-to-fix-this/

So Paul’s Therapist Says…

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 4 Comments

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So Paul’s therapist said to me yesterday, “I know you are not going to like this much, less want to do it, but you will have to do this so it gets through to Paul. If he attacks any member of the family you must (without telling him) call the police and have them take him to the hospital on a 5150. He is getting too big and he needs a reality check that if he hurts someone there are dire consequences. If you do not do this now at this age while he still has a chance as he ages he will be incorporating this behavior more and more into his life. You have got to try and stop it now.”

Hearing those words cut me. Deeply. Call the police on your own child. You must. You have to. It is your obligation. Failure to protect your other children charges could be brought against you if you don’t. He has to learn.

And so I “get” the logic I must ask … if he was rational I would agree. BUT if someone  is undergoing and episode of psychosis/mental illness how can they just stop themselves? Is it as easy as all that? I think not.

One of the things that scares me is that police will come to our door. What if Paul were to run, resist being taken or because he cannot stand being touched in certain ways..hits an officer? We all know what happens to minorities in these times of situations. Often they are seriously injured or they die. How do you risk this happening because a 14-year-old is in a rage?

Yes, I know it is what must be done but what unintended consequences might result? Could I live with these if something horrific happened because I picked up the phone? Could I live with these if something horrific happened because I didn’t pick up the phone?

How do you wrap your head around all of this without it destroying your soul? Without it destroying…you, relationships, your child and your heart?

Nothing makes this possibility better. Nothing. All it looks like is a long scary road which I do not want to take but will in order to try and save my son.

 

 

Dyed Love

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 5 Comments

 

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I loved you once you know

Deeply. completely. selfishly

I devoured you…wanting you to know

Everything I was thinking

Because you couldn’t tell me

What was in your own head

So , instead, I put ideas into your head

While trying to force you to examine things

You had hidden away

From yourself for protection

Of a soul shredded

Long before I came on the scene

I am tired of you blaming me

For what the ghosts in your past

Did to you

And I am tired of seeking answers

From a man is not brave enough

To figure out whether he wants a life with me

Or without

I feel raw, used, scattered

Blown up into pieces that are gone

There is not enough glue in the world

For me to painstakingly put them all together again

Because I am busy and tired of trying to fill up

Your empty spaces and your selfish wants

The ones you know about (yes… those ones you selfish bastard)

And the ones you aren’t even aware of yet

but I am…

I am aware of more than you give me credit for

But I cannot put you together anymore either

You have to do it yourself

Stop depending on me to make

You feel good about yourself again

I can no longer carry your feelings for you

I can barely carry my own

When I remember I even have them anymore

Instead I remember a grenade

That exploded deep within my soul

And you are the one who threw it

Wounding us

You and me

And I wonder if we will ever be the same

For I am running on fumes

Somewhere near the end

Of wanting to figure all of this out

Wanting to run away from the pain

From You

From this life

That at times no longer feels right

Or loving or kind or cherished

A life that is made more complicated

By the issues of others

Until I can no longer differentiate between

Their issues and yours

But find I am growing tired of both

Of giving of myself 100%

When I just want to retreat

Somewhere deep. silent. and kind.

A place where I am no longer wounded

On a daily basis

A place where I can heal

And I can stand up again

Full of confidence. happiness. and belief

That I really do have purpose in my life

And that it starts with me

My purpose. my wants. my needs.

Alone

Without having to consider

And put first

The needs of anyone else in the world

 

 

 

 

 

Believe

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / Leave a comment

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Today is Gracie’s big diving competition. As a mom, I hate when she struggles. As a parent, I realize struggle is a part of it all but nonetheless one only wishes it all would come easily. It doesn’t.

Last night she cried and I just held her. “Hey, if it is this stressful we don’t have to do it. It doesn’t matter to me how you do, I will love you no matter what. Just cry baby, I am here for you.”

Said all the right words that meant nothing to her at the moment. This morning I sense doubt which I would love to just erase.

You can do this, baby. You have what it takes. You have worked so hard. Believe in yourself. Believe in your talent and hard work. Believe that your body has done this so many times it is almost built into your DNA. Believe that in 30 years it won’t matter and you will not remember your scores. Believe this is fun. Believe that your biggest fan is me and that YOU are what matters to me. And believe that you can do anything you set your mind to.Believe. Just believe.