Tag: boundaries

Superheroes

Superheroes

18 May 2017

A superhero demonstrates powers beyond human. Not everyone can have superpowers.  In my mind, these are the following qualities:

  • Overcome immense adversity (my Wasband doesn’t count. Nor does the whore)
  • Find a way to rise above (see parentheses above)
  • Portray a human characteristic
  • Use powers for the betterment of humanity (can’t do this if you don’t possess any powers. Again, see parentheses above)
  • Thinking you’re a king and queen. Imposters don’t belong.  This does not fit into the super hero dynamic.  Wasbands and whores who address each other as a king and queen need a reality check and get out of Fantasyland. They don’t belong there either.

I belong with the superheroes.  I am Wonder Woman.  No, really.  She was my idol growing up. I even had WW Underoos, but they stayed hidden because superheroes only transform during cries for help; then they’re true selves are shown.  Plus, Underoos were glorified underwear.  Today, I don’t even think they could pass for a costume; they were that skimpy.

Wonder Woman’s background is interesting.  She is part Amazon with a Greek history in her lineage.  She is smart and beautiful.  She has an aura about her.  She could deflect anything with her gold bracelets.

I have managed to survive a cruise ship, nine days in Chile, 2 ½ months living under the same roof, getting through 2 ¾ terms of school, work, and a pending divorce.  If I was still sharing a residence, I know I would not be where I am today…at all.  I sat still, furiously fidgeting, for four months, cleaned up some clutter, made the house my own, and still trying to make the perfect lemonade drink.   I created boundaries (deflecting things that could bring harm) and have said ‘no more.’

I have always embraced my independence.  It’s who I am.  I am a strong woman and welcoming the liberation a life that was tossed away (not my choice).  I still stumble, but I also stopped trying once I recognized I wasn’t wanted.  I bargained for a brief, dark moment at the onset of the Wasband’s confession, but I quickly dropped it once I saw his true colors floating in front of my eyes.  There was no fix to this.  At least not on my end.  The damage from the battlefield added to more things irreparable.

Wonder Woman is a warrior.  I am a warrior.  There is an acute degree of strength within myself, and it really comes out after dark moments and even a few bad days.  I possess power and grace.  I belong to an elite group.  I am confident.  I am a role model.  I am paving my own path to become my own special super heroine.  I am.

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The Journey-Not Over Yet

The Journey-Not Over Yet

11 May 2017

 

Back to traveling again.  Seems like my May and June calendar has filled up, without being fully aware it happened.  I’m embracing it.  I have to.  It’s the freedom to move around, not being chained to anything or anyone; but I still have Duke-puppy in my care, so he’s my only other priority.  If the end is near, it’s so far away.  Plus, I still have to continue moving forward.  I am, literally, one month away from finishing this third degree.  I am on a plane, headed east for graduation.  My third degree and I have decorated my cap…there’s a first time for everything.

I think about dates.  My dad’s birthday is tomorrow.  We both were born on the 12th.  He would have been 66, and I can’t help but think what he, and my mom, would think of this ridiculous mess I’m in.  Would they have asked me to go home?  Questions.  So many questions, and I have to stop asking them because they won’t do me any good.

This fucking mess.  I’ve been in hell since January?  No.  December?  No.  November.  That sounds about right.  This fucked up mess has sapped my energy, motivation, appetite, and ability to sleep.  My clothing continues to fall off my frame, getting leaner with each passing week.  I recently saw photos of myself; someone had hijacked my phone at a committee dinner and I stared at the image on the screen.  That’s me?  Wow.  Catching up with friends after and I know everyone notices.  It’s hard not to.

So…I’m smack-dab in the middle of week 6.  I’m waiting for a chardonnay on this bird.  I’m letting the Wasband buy me a drink or two…or three… Running on another standard 3 hours 20 minutes of sleep and the adrenaline keeps pushing me.  I dread the day it stops pumping through my veins and mind; it’s going to be a hard crash, or I can head it off by doing something epic.

Graduation.  Usually signifies the end, but I am able to walk even though I’m a month away from being done.  I’ll take it.  Family is arriving from NY and IN to help me celebrate.  I fear what my Aunt Fabulous is doing at the ceremony.  Last year, for my niece and nephew’s high school graduation, she had their faces blown up and put on large sticks.  Think Big Head meets a popsicle stick.  From photographs, it looks like the heads are floating!  Whatever happens is sure to bring a smile to my face and a large, guttural laugh.  If you hear about a family that makes New Hampshire news, or even the news at Southern New Hampshire University, chances are it’s mine.  Haha

Natalie’s journey has begun.  She’s floating out in some familiar, yet unfamiliar place.  It’s all about the journey, and I am a firm believer in this. Heck, I look at where I am in this moment, this time, and in my life.  Never in a million years did I ever think I would have three degrees; would be married and now in the middle of a divorce.  Whore.  Adulterer.  Let me reign my anger back in.  I’ve lost the one outlet I could really shout at.  Bastard.  Bitch.

I will not let any of this define me.  It can mold, shape, soften me into self-discovery, but I am not the victim.  It took several months to bring myself to say this, and not because I am broken, but because I was torn down slowly.  It took space, a vast amount of space, distance and boundaries to shift my feet through the numbing waters to begin to see more clearly.  I began to see true colors.  I began to sort of find me, randomly wandering.  What I found was an old me, who wasn’t afraid to be her true self.  She busted out of that shell, and I’m still not convinced the world is ready for the phoenix emerging.

This journey is far from over.  Four weeks still remain.  A small period of taking a break is to follow (once I’m done) where I will enjoy my own company and get lost in a world I can’t wait to escape into.  Then I will begin to think about the shift in this blog.  Post-education.  Post-divorce.  Into the depths of healing.

In the meantime, I am going to accept all of the hugs, smiles, laughter and memories that will be created this weekend.  #SNHU2017.  It’s here!

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Milestones

Milestones

4 April 2017

Week 9 was a difficult finals week for me, but I made it through.  Week 10 followed and I swear I was being sabotaged.  Every moment I had to work on two assignments and my final projects was thwarted by someone whose only concern was for themselves.  I placed more boundaries up after Mr. Not Relevant returned after another (more than) two week fling this time.  He didn’t like these particular boundaries.  This was the same person who recently told me, “You have to finish school,” as I have been trying to use those damn lemons to make a drink worth savoring.  (I’m still working on it, by the way.)  I think Mr. NR forgot saying this to me the first two months being under the same roof.  My focus was my thesis.  His focus was flaunting and tormenting.

I have turned my life into an all-about-Karen because I resolved to focus on me and my education.  I wasn’t going to let this ‘someone’ take the last remaining hours of 17TW3 away from me.  I was too close to finishing.

Week Ten.  Here we go.  Two reflective essays (2nd final project) had to be written, carefully following the rubric, and turned in before 11:59pm Sunday.  I focused on the essay for my English/thesis class.  Finished, proofread, revised, re-read, revised, polished, saved and submitted.  I stared at my computer screen.  Submission complete.  Whoa.  I reminded myself I had one more essay to write and the clock was still ticking. Following the rubric for my Seminar in Writing Instruction, I drafted a three-page essay.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Save.  Upload.  Submission complete.

10:30 pm, I became very still in my chair.  Then cried.  Hard.  I did it.  I got through ten weeks of the most challenging days, weeks, and months of my life.  How the hell did I do this?  How did I survive all of this?

I still had to wait for my final grades.  The day arrived.  I ordered my transcript and read the letters inked into the paper.  ENG 549 Thesis Writing-A.  ENG 670 Seminar in Writing Instruction-A.  Proof of determination and survival.  That sticky note, “YOU CAN DO IT,” remained on my monitor through this nightmare, and still remains.

I thank my family, friends: my entire support system, and professors for being there, especially during the dark days when I couldn’t focus; I couldn’t put my head into my assignments, or even my thesis; the days when the crazy mind took over and wouldn’t let anything else in; the moments when the emotions hit me like a brick wall and the tears just fell; the days when I reacted to someone’s behavior, or words infiltrated my mind, putting me on an emotional roller coaster once again.  Everyone played a part in me getting to this point.  No part was too small.  This was so critical and I needed every moment, every word of encouragement, every hug, every smile, every heart-beat that also felt the stabs I endured-everything.

Thank You!!!

My journey isn’t quite over yet…