An Unseated Moment

The unseated moment for me transpired over a long period of time and was so slow in its existence that I didn’t even realize my life was changing until it was over.  I believe the medical types call it “perimenopause” and it is a not for the faint of heart!  I have spoken about this before in journals, blogs and on paper but never thought of anything good coming from it, until now.

My emotions ebbed and flowed, the stress warped my shoulder muscles and the depression sucked the life out of me.  I struggled with the wine bottle, as it was becoming a deeper friend to me than I had ever intended or wanted.  Then one day as I sat in my darkened living room watching the ever mind numbing sound box for the millionth hour, I watched a woman make a cake and thought I can do that!

It had to be the Prozac that I was told to take for this womanly transition into stage two of my so called life because I could cook pretty well, but to take on baking seemed insane.  I went to the store and bought a cookbook as well as a book of dessert recipes. With my love of reading, I studied these recipes and read them like the fictional tale of my favorite authors. The ingredients, the directions, the music that played while I would mix, whir, stir and fold.  I bought utensils, kitchen accessories, and more cookbooks to perfect my craft.  I would ask Santa every year for a new gadget that I needed because I knew I was on the good girl list!    I was lost in the masterpieces that I created and longed for the solitary movements of the dance that was food creation. 

Birthday cakes, muffins for coworkers, many recipes tried by the friends of my children that I lovingly called my precious guinea pigs as I rubbed my palms back and forth.  Dinner parties came next with friends and family enjoying all that lay before them on the table.  The smells that filled the senses upon entering my home was that of coziness and love.  Menus were the most fun to create, as the food became a Broadway play for all to enjoy. 

It has been about eleven years now and my kitchen is one of beauty with all my gadgets, a fill of herbs and spices and a pantry that has items that one would never think to purchase built from many recipes followed or created.  The menopause? Well the hot flashes still come and go, no more night sweats and a good bottle of Merlot is still my friend and thankfully not my prison.  The art that happens now no longer comes from a place unseated or a medical need to remain the same but a place of love and a craft perfected.

Once Moodie Bluedie, now finally Alive!

Fear, courage, guilt, innocence, anger, compassion, happiness, sadness, defensiveness, defender of all, frustration, hope….

I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t have someone to answer to or something to answer for.  I also can’t remember a time when everyday I wasn’t filled with a bucket of emotions that came in waves crashing at me, receded then crash again.

The emotional theatre had created its first season’s playbook and I felt each one, some even at the same time!  Let me just say, it was not a pretty scene.  Not sure how I got to a place where I let the opinion of others or their treatment of me mold me into this meek vicious person, but it happened.  Before I knew it?  I was…   Mooodie Bluedie!

The OH so welcomed diagnosis of early stages of menopause (Peri those medical types call it) only added to the emotions that had taken residence in me from a young age.  The stories that could be told were what melodrama’s are made of and so exhausting at the time. yet so comical now when I talk about those good ole days.  Prime example:

Youngest kid and I are embroiled in actual face to face verbal combat.  The kid is seventeen and bubbles of emotions are flying around our heads but not popping. YK yelling that something isn’t fair, yet again? Me trying to calm him and myself down..  tooo much..  pressure building.. gonna blow….

Me:  Shut up when you’re talking to me!!  (pointer finger raised and shaking as if on a pulpit)

Him:  Whaaat?  (head shake’s and then pops back in total confusion)

Me:  Go to your room!

Ahhhh, memories!!  Where’s Barbra when you need her?

This went on for several years and many other stories of how I was crazy or what was I thinking came out of this time. Mostly it was from all those people that resided with me during the Royal Oaks period.  Finally the menopausal emotions subsided, I was then left with the emotions that were familiar and now stood out to me.  I didn’t like them.  I had gotten through stage one of “the pause” with a houseful of people that left me alone to do it with a cheer of good lucks. Did anyone notice that the only thing I wasn’t feeling was alive? I didn’t until then and I was intent on finding it.

Finally, years later into my quest, the first time I felt alive was the first time I was on the back of Sweet Significant’s Harley.  I still had scars from the previous life and although the wounds were no longer open, they were still there like red thick squiggly lines across my heart.  Nothing Vitamin E could cure although someone once told me that Cabernet had all the vitamins I needed and no prescription was required.  Hmmm..  

Anyhoo, Sweet called me up one day after we had been seeing each other for a couple of months and asked if I wanted to go for a ride and although I really wanted to stay at home and have a pity party with that bottle of Cab, (purely for the nutrition of course) I said absolutely. I could hear his Softail from my living room and went outside, he drove up onto the grass in front of my apartment, handed me a helmet and with his beautiful never ending smile, he said, “jump on baby.”  The exhilaration that ran through my body, breath and blood was nothing that I have ever felt.  We drove through the delta loop and as we rounded the swerves and curves in the road, I just threw my arms out wide and felt the wind the from the ride blow right through me.  I lifted my face up to the sky and felt the sun kiss my forehead and cheeks. 

The vast openness of the land flying by and the sweet smell of the country air made me smile.  We then stopped at a restaurant to have lunch and chatted the way you do when you’re learning about another person.  We then got back on the bike to finish another loop of open road.  It was just what my soul needed. It was a great scar diminishing day.  It was the first day that nothing that had been holding me down had mattered.  I was beholden to no one that day and what a great feeling!  I wanted more…

I realized that responsibility is not emotional chains and baggage of obligation to someone else, it is a character trait that is beholden only to me.

Now the emotions are still there but they don’t swirl around uncontrollable, they are tucked away and only come out in appropriate situations. Peace, a little time to take a step back, getting the hell outta dodge and not to mention a very well timed epiphany.  Here I am and Oh boy! I will be a writer!  I am a writer!  It is no longer in my dream box under my bed.  All things are possible and I am Alive!