Happy Birthday to the Best Mom in the World!

I wasn't always that close with my mom. Maybe closer than some people but I never felt really close with her even when I was young. She was my mom, I loved her, she took care of me and taught me well. While growing up, we were fortunate enough to have her be a stay at home mom so she was always around. But it was my brothers with whom I was closest.

I started to dislike her, or rather her authority over me, the older I got. As I said, she was always around so it was hard to get away with anything. I found some ways though, as the clever, calculating and sneaky teen aged girl that I was.

I was trouble. I raged, I threw tantrums, I'd get violent, sneak out, use drugs. My parents put me on anti-depressants which only made my head clearer and able to make better sense of anarchistic and atheist points of view. What a lovely backfire, I thought (insert maniacal laughter here) from my devoutly religious and conservative upbringing. They sent me to an all girls, lock down treatment facility for seven months, in Orem, Utah when I was fifteen. When I returned home, I left again and moved in with my boyfriend in his mom's garage. I really didn't want much to do with my parents. Especially not my mom.

I traveled the country by hitchhiking and riding freight trains. Slept under bridges, in bushes and empty houses. Ate out of the garbage and stole cigarettes and booze. Made friends with shady characters and got harassed by police.

I didn't do these things to piss off my mom. I just did them. I knew she worried about me but I didn't really think about it. I just did what I did. Before I turned eighteen, I was required to call my parents once a week from wherever I was and I did that. I was OK with that. Even if I just left a message, they knew that I was still alive. I never asked them for money or to bail me out, only checked in.

Once I came of age, I still called. I don't remember if I called once a week but I know it was regularly (I'm sure my mom remembers).

My parents had done something for me that a lot of other parents wouldn't and didn't do, they let me be. They let me go through what I had to go through. They didn't beg me to come home, file run away reports or tell me that I was fucking up or hurting them, they just let me be. They had the presence of mind about them and knew me well enough to know that if they pushed me at all, they would push me away.

I didn't realize it at the time but they were loving me so unconditionally. I had no clue. But what I did know was that I felt comfortable and safe talking to them and staying with them when I was in town.

I didn't realize at the time that what they did for me, would leave the possibilities for our relationships wide open to acceptance and love.

When I went to visit my family while I was pregnant with my son, I remember sobbing uncontrollably and apologetically to my mother for all the worry I had caused her when I was out on the road.

When I became a mother myself, my mom become my ally. For a while she was still "my mother" but we had something bigger in common. She eased my mind and heart so many times as I learned to care for my son.

I struggled through a divorce, my alcoholism and an abusive relationship. She was there for me even though I knew that it tore her heart apart to watch me go through all the pain. She let me go through it, she didn't beg me to stop drinking or to leave my boyfriend (but I'm sure she wanted to). She let me do what I had to do.

After I got sober a lot of things changed in me. Through my personal growth and awareness, I started to be able to appreciate my mother as a human being, perfectly flawed and beautiful. My mom stopped being just "my mom" and we became friends.

Its been an amazing experience to grow with her as a human being and as a woman. Our lives parallel in so many ways it's uncanny. We've been through so many ups and downs over the last few years.

She has been a pillar of strength, support and love, a supplier of an unquantifiable supply of chocolate and an example of acceptance, growth, creativity, laughter, faith and adaptability.

She is my mom and she is my friend and I don't know what I would do without her in my life! I am blessed beyond words to have such an amazing and beautiful human being on this path with me!

Happy Birthday Mom! I did my best to express my love and appreciation for you in words. But as a writer yourself, I'm sure you know, that sometimes there just aren't words.

tied to?

lettered vitamins, 5htp, chocolate,
sex, caffeine wont shake
the feel
lost, wandering
blind by my own head
"where are you now my fingerprints?"
identity? ego? tied to?
who the fuck?
self doubt reigns the kingdom
when my soul suffocates
everything within screams
to birth
to vomit
to shit
to bleed
to create...create...create
lost without it
transform this into?
into you? into them?
into me?
lost, wandering, grasping
for the tiny sapling on
the hillside as I slide
scream for you to tell me
scream at my brain for silence
scream at my brain for silence
left alone
to go?

ctd

oak leafed texture
patterned lovely
crowd the sidewalk
lead the way
to a 100 way intersection
too much traffic
frozen in time
it all rushes by
crowds my soul
passes on by
do I jump?
do I wait?
keep walking
old things gifted
parallel time frame
down the drain
circling, circling,
circling
almost gone
not quite
clogged
wind opens the path
fresh air
no despair

no other choice

  After a performance I am often alone. After being given appreciative compliments, hand shakes and hugs, I am alone. After I exposed my heart, a gift, an offering to the universe and those who'll receive, I am alone. Not empty but alone, wondering what I do this for.

This whole creative process, artist, musician thing can be hard. It's easier to procrastinate sometimes because creating means getting to the heart of my shit. Unearthing something real, something raw about myself. It's often easier to get caught up in home projects, laundry, social activities. Anything to put off confronting whatever it is inside of me that I can't explain, that is trying to force it's way out of me.

 I simplified my life so that I wouldn't be burdened with so many other, non-creative obligations.  But I sometimes find myself wishing I had something else to do, looking for busy work and excuses, people.

When alone with myself, I am left to confront that which burns inside of me. It burns and scorches at my flesh and at my soul, until I stare it down, own it, then give it a name.

 I do this because I don't have a choice.

open mind + open heart = endless possibilities

In less than a month I will embark on yet another huge change in my life. A great change, one I've been waiting for, patiently. And now that it is almost here, after all this time the pieces have fallen into place, I am excited and terrified all at once. Excited to finally be moving on with my life, in a direction that I have wanted for so long. Terrified because it means my whole world as I know it, will be turned upside down. That's the scariest and most exciting part. My world will open up in ways I have never dreamed possible and in ways that I can't possibly imagine right now.

I see this as the ultimate opportunity for life, for living! But with this opportunity comes great risk. Risks actually. I'm putting the comforts of the life that I know, food, heat, shelter, no roommates, on the line. I'm putting myself in the position to look foolish, to be totally wrong, to fuck it all up. I could be setting myself for total failure!

It's really all in how I look at it because if I DON'T do this, I set myself up for a different kind of failure. The kind that numbs my spirit. The kind that keeps me down. The kind that we learn to live with because sometimes the slightest possibility of success, personal success, where we actually are living out our wildest dreams, that success is the scariest thing we can comprehend.

What. If. I. Succeed?!

No way, not me, that's for other people! People I secretly envy. The lucky ones. But I'm stuck. Stuck in this meaningless job that I'm damn good at and where I'm appreciated. A job with a great boss and awesome co-workers. A job that is reliable. I'm stuck here because I told myself that there is no other way out. That this is just the way things are. That I can't make a living doing what I love. That there are no other jobs out there that I am qualified for that will pay me what I'm used to. That if I go to school to get more qualifications, I will go into great debt and likely end up with a job quite similar to the one I hold now. Stuck, yet again. Still unfulfilled and staring out that same window, knowing that there is a better life out there for me somewhere, but I'm stuck.

Well, FUCK THAT! I refuse! I'm done staring out that same window, punching that same clock, answering that same phone. I'm moving on! Because for me, what will happen if I stay where I'm at is worse than the absolute unknown that awaits me if I leave. If I stay, I continue the desecration of my spirit. Each minute of every day I have to live with myself knowing that I am still making this choice to deny myself of what is most important. Denying my spirit of following its purpose and the ability to be free and to love completely.

I used to think that in order to get there it had to look a certain way. Or to be happy and fulfilled I had to do certain things, and they could only be carried out in a specific way outlined by someone else. That it was conditional. And if I didn't do it the way that everyone else was, it just wouldn't work out right. That it would be too hard or impossible, or inadequate in some way. I no longer subscribe to this idea. Not just because I'm sick of it and think it's total b.s. but because I have experienced the opposite. And I refuse to believe that life is so black and white, so cut and dried as that.

I believe that there are an endless number of possibilities that only await action with each new choice we make. And that the possibilities, known and unknown, never end. No matter what. So if I want to go to school and learn how to run a business and be a traveling seamstress/musician, I can do that. Regardless of whether or not I have any idea what that looks like. It's what I want to do. It's what feeds my soul to no end and always has. Why would I deny that? Denying that no longer makes any sense in my brain.

Do you ever get that feeling in your gut when you're doing/experiencing something you love? That feeling you don't get doing other things, most things. That feeling that this is exactly what you should be doing and that you're genuinely full, happy, content? Where you know that you are ALIVE! And it happens every time you experience this thing, whatever it is. That feeling that there isn't really words for. It moves you somewhere deep within, beyond your physical body, beyond your ego. And for at least a moment, you cannot deny the power that it has over you and within you. I wonder what would happen if we all went with that gut feeling and actually pursued that dream. Lived it. Shared it. It would really be a different world now wouldn't it? Why don't we?

Fear. Fear of all the risks, fear of the absolute unknown. My personal experience has shown me that the fear is always greater when I'm closer to my dreams. However there is also a greater sense of relief, peace and of authenticity when moving beyond what I physically THINK I know and working towards a greater purpose. A purpose that I can't explain with words.

So onward I go, terrified and excited, into the great unknown, knowing that I am on my true journey. That I am finally ready for it. That it awaits me, that it is ready for me, that it needs me. And the only assumption I can make about what's to come is that if I continually keep an open mind and heart, then my mind and heart will continue to be blown open even more.

goodbye son, you will be missed

  It's that time of year again. The time of year when my son's father and I pass our son from one hand to the other. He has been with me this last year so that means, you guessed it, he will spend the next year with his father. This will be the 4th time I have done this and it doesn't get any easier.

   The first year I was basically drunk most of the time in my life and did my very best to not feel a damn thing. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Partly because I felt as though the reason it was happening was all my fault. And partly because I had to put my 7 year old son on a plane all by himself. We cried. The stewardess was very sweet and let him board the plane as late as possible. Later I found out he was bumped to first class and fed chocolate cake! I went to a park with my friends and had a few drinks.

   The second year I was about 4 months sober and had some extra money so I decided to drive him. I took 2 weeks off from work, loaded us, the dog and our gear in a 1993 Volvo sedan and hit the road! It was a great trip. We got to see friends, family and the beautiful landscape this country has to offer. I took him to his dad's house and got to stay there for a few days (recooperating from food poisoning). It was awesome to see where and with who he would be living and just get the feel for the situation. It really made the transition a bit easier for me. 

  The 3rd time I took him to the airport again, this time by myself. I don't remember as much about this time around. I do remember sitting in the terminal in a great amount of pain. I didn't want to be doing this, again. I remember telling him, "if you ever don't want to feel this way, we can do something about it". I didn't realize at the time how fucked up of a thing that was to say, I just didn't want to hurt and I didn't want my boy to hurt either. 

    

   In all these previous years, the time leading up to his departure was rough. I am constantly thinking about how much it's going to hurt when he leaves. And then I dwell on that. I am so good at dwelling on what my anticipated feelings might be. So much so that I ruin the present moment, I lose it. I am only thinking about the pain of watching that plane he is on get smaller and smaller and how lonely that 90 mile drive back home will be. How empty the house will be with him gone, his spirit, his laughter. How any gatherings with friends or family just aren't quite right with him not there. It's easy to see why one could dwell on such things. (*choke* commence tear wiping)
   This year has been different. The thoughts of how life will be with him gone are still there but they do not own me. Call it growth, I don't know, but this year I have been more present. I have been able to enjoy all of the misc adventures we have had and will have up until the minute he leaves. All without that sense of impending doom and loneliness that I've had in the past. It's been great. And weird. What a gift! We get to spend out last month together being in the moment and having fun.  

   This whole situation is bittersweet. When it is his time to be with me, its so easy to receive him. I am, of course, wrapped up in my joy to be with my son again but it is hard to watch him leave his father. It's wonderful having him around when he is, however it is also quite difficult to be a single mom with few breaks for a whole year. It is a strange blessing to get a "year off" but as nice as that may be, I don't think it will ever get easier to take my child somewhere and drive away knowing he will not be back for a year. The best part about him leaving is that he is going somewhere that he is loved dearly. He has a whole other family in Colorado, friends and pets. They all love having him around as much as we do and they are anxiously awaiting his arrival! What more could a mother ask for?

   For a long time I thought he would be doomed for a future of dysfunction and therapy because of this situation but at some point I realized that he couldn't have it much better! What an amazing opportunity for him to get to know himself as he grows up in all kinds of different situations. With different people, schools, homes and activities. He's exposed to so much more diversity than many adults I know. He's got it pretty damn good if you ask me. I have to keep these things in mind. It softens the blow knowing he has so many wonderful things going on in his life AND he really seems to enjoy it. 

   Saying good bye over and over again is tough. He grows so much in the spaces of time that I don't see him. The beauty is that I also get to say hello over and over again and that part is always wonderful!

ordinary greatness

There is a part of me that wishes to be great, to be known, remembered, to be adored by millions. But I'm really just an average person with a pretty average life. I am coming to accept that. I think that I have potential to be great and so does everyone I know. I just don't necissarily have the desire or motivation to be extraordinary among my fellows or the world anymore. This does not mean I have no desires or motivation. It just means they are reasonable.  

The true desire is not about the money or the fame, therefore I don't need it on a large scale. It's about being understood and appreciated and that I can do on a much smaller level. In fact anyone can. There are billions of people in this world and to be genuinely understood and appreciated by a few of them is pretty cool, and probably not too difficult. I just have to do what I do and keep it real. That means small scale, that means honesty, that means respect and that means perseverance. I must let my creative juices flow from the place within me. I must do so in a way that honors myself as the human that I am. And I must never stop because it is what I do, whether I am great or not. I don't really have a choice.  

So as nice as it is to write a song or a blog or take a picture that people can relate to, understand or even love, it's more important that I can look at myself in the mirror and know that what I do is true for me. Then I can go forth with my own personal greatness. Comfortable and confident in the fact that what I have to offer is exactly that...what I have to offer. It's not what anyone else has to offer and it is not what everyone else will relate to or need. But hopefully someone will relate and somehow be helped by my own personal, ordinary brand of Carrie greatness. And that is worth much more than what money or fame can give me.