Paula Tracey
A Tarnished Southern Belle

I found this old post, something I wrote sometime in 2007, when I participated in a set of hosted blogs. After not seeing Mr. Big for several months, I met him for a lunch/layover. I need to reconnect with the person that wrote this. I was much clearer in my soul:

*********************************

Snurfdude commented on my rare personal post…and rather than go back and forth in my comments…I thought I would share what is in my head…

May I first say – you are catching me in a softer mood today…so let me give you – and anyone else who cares to read or comment – a few thoughts.

First of all – layovers can be quite fruitful if you plan your time. They can be boring – but they can also be very HOT.

But to the emotional side of things: Love. Heartbreak. Healing. Head over Heart.

I had asked a friend what happens when you give someone your heart – and then decide maybe – just maybe – you want it back?

Do you get your heart back? And if you do, is it whole – or are you missing small pieces of it that remain behind with the person you gave it to?

Or is the head such a powerful instrument that you are able to seize every piece of your heart and hold it to yourself? To snatch it back even though you freely gave it?

What happens to your soul when you are too blocked to care – or too selfish to share of yourself?

For me: I used to live a life of blocking out feeling. When I discovered that I had the ability to feel again, I’ve embraced that and never looked back again. When I open myself to feeling – to caring – I find my mind more creative and my soul more content.

Love never dies. It may fade and the passion may become a coal instead of a burning fire it once was.

Many people would disagree and say that someone they loved is someone they now hate – but you understand that HATE is a powerful emotion and just a step away from Love.

LIFE is too short – and the rewards of life are too few – to waste it on negativity of the emotions of hate or pettiness.

Heartbreak can be devastating. But hearts are muscles and they will heal. They may not be as strong as they once were, but time does heal all wounds.

Sometimes, though, a torn muscle heals stronger than it was to begin with.

I believe that when you love someone – even if you try to take your heart back – they keep a piece of it. And a piece of THEM stays with you always.

Love can change and move from a stage of madly being in love to simply love – the love of friends. When you can do that as a person – still love someone you are no longer IN love with, then the karma of your life is truly clear and in balance.

Sometimes, the love we feel for a person is tucked away into a tiny chamber of our heart and the chamber door becomes locked – so it fades and the heart heals. But the love is still there.

The head is powerful and is the heart’s helpmate. The head assists the heart to heal.

In an answer: my encounter had it’s moments of vulnerability – but I never felt that aching hurt I would have felt even a month earlier. I was able to be reminded (once again) why lovers sometimes turn into friends because we were able to simply BE friends – and share some fun and laughter.

That allowing yourself to be vulnerable once again with someone who has seen you vulnerable gives you some of the most important life lessons.

That I have something within me that he needs. And he still has facets of him that I enjoy and appreciate.

I like the kind hearted approach to life. I would prefer to risk more heartache and vulnerability because my soul is happier and my Karma is clearer when I do.

Karma exists in the world – and in order to get the blessings that love and friendship offers you – you have to risk a little.

And when you risk, you find out that your heart IS stronger. That it is worth missing pieces of your heart because the pieces of THEIR heart you keep makes your life richer.

Heartbreak makes us STRONGER. Being bitter and not risking the chance to see if your heart has healed will only make you bitter – and close your soul off to rewards.

Moving from Lover to Just a Friend is a blessing in itself. And that was what I needed from him. Hopefully, my caring and kindness was what he needed from me.

She caught her breath as she lay sprawled on the floor… her head resting against the iron leg of a futon. Why was she on the floor of her daughter’s room at 4 AM? She had managed catch the red-polished big toe of her right foot on the belt loop of a pair of jeans.

Colleen shook her head. Only she could be such a klutz.

She should have turned on the light, but somehow, it was easier to walk around the house in the dark when she was alone. It’s funny, she used to long for quiet time at the house and relished the rare moments when her ex-husband was at work and the children were at school. She still hadn’t become used to spending weekends alone. Since he had moved out, she had begun de-cluttering the 15 years worth of, well, crap, that had accumulated.

The fifteen years of crap that he conveniently left behind.

He had purchased all new items to go with his sleek, hi-rise condo overlooking downtown. The crap hadn’t matched his new décor.

Before she could pick herself up, she felt the breath of her dog, Ingrid on the back of her neck. She wanted to cry, but didn’t. She loved her dog, but did she have to breathe in her owners scent the way a lover would? Because, she may as well face the facts – she’d never get laid again. What man wanted an almost-forty-single-mother with children and a dog?

I found the pull to go to Mass quite strong. Now, I wasn’t as thrilled with the homily of the young priest as I had been the previous visit, but that is the thing about visiting any church – even a Catholic Church where the readings are set.  I liked the 2nd reading, actually – it’s one I can take to heart, however, I didn’t like the interpretation of the Priests.

Romans 12, Verse 2:  Do not be conformed to this present world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may test and approve what is the will of God – what is good and well-pleasing and perfect.

I am a big believer that we don’t have to conform.  In fact, I believe that within your mind is where you have to find the comfort in your life – and get to the space you need.  I think that God gives us free will and that finding what the “will of God is” is about being satisfied with where you are in life and what you want from your life.  That is free will.  That is the will of God.   Who wants to be a sheep that only conforms to what society thinks is the right way to behave?   Sure, I think we need to know the rules of polite society, but to be satisfied, you have to know when the rules work for you and when they don’t.

By the way, the priests interpretation was that God’s will is found through the Church.  I have a feeling that Paul would disagree with the priest and, like me, cling to the words “renewing of your mind” just like I did. For some people, I think always following the rules and never stepping outside of that box is the only way to truly find comfort.  For some of us, though, we don’t find comfort until we explore the ways society makes us uncomfortable and find our own path.

Though I am more spiritual than religious, my prayers typically follow the same vein:  forgive me of my sins, take care of those I love, and help me find peace within my own heart.  I did get what I wanted from Mass, though, which was those peaceful moments, so unlike the rest of my week when it comes to work…..

The glowing red numbers on my digital clock read 6:42. I needed to get out the door in the next ten minutes if I was going to make it to the airport on time. Running late was a huge no-no in the etiquette world I was brought up in. But if I didn’t hurry up, I would be.

My outfit had been carefully planned. Black skirt, white button up blouse, classic black pumps. My long black hair was fresh from the salon:  styled to be both straight and curly instead of the frizziness that I seemed to get when I was on my own. My long nails were perfect in their French Manicure and my under things were chosen with extreme care because I was going for that conservative on the outside, naughty on the inside look. White lace bra that lifted me up where my boobs belonged, white lace panties and little white stockings.  It was the stockings that were holding me up. They were these lovely things I had been given as a gift. Wolford thigh highs with a four-inch wide lace band….threaded into the lace was yellow ribbons. The stockings had been a gift to me from an old friend (in other words another man). I love beautiful lingerie but hadn’t broken down occasion.  I tell you they were a gift because though I love beautiful things, I would never pay $55 for a pair of stockings.

Let’s be honest here, I was dressing so that I could get laid. I had sworn to myself that I was done with fuck buddies. For God’s sake, I wasn’t a twenty-year old college student with a part time job at Barnes and Noble. I was almost forty, owned my own company, and had teenagers.

But if you think about it, I hadn’t had a typical coming of age. When my friends were waking in the rooms of boys they had met at the bar the night before, I was waking up next to my husband in a home we owned. I was living the white picket fence dream, complete with two dogs and a cat. I was already married by the time most girls realized that the Freshman Fifteen was a reality if you lived in the dorm.

But I digress. I was talking about fuck buddies. Friends with Benefits. Whatever it is the kids call them these days. I had experimented in that realm when I was freshly divorced. When the kids were visiting their father, I was going out with girlfriends, drinking at bars like a college kid, and spending some quality time with on-line dating services. That was good for about two months or so when it began to get old. No matter who tells you that Orange is the new Pink and that 40 is the new 20, my body simply couldn’t keep up with the late nights and the drinking. Fortunately for me, I was able to latch on to a couple of dates that morphed into fairly regular dinner and visit to the bedroom.