Hey, there, Magnificents.  I’m so happy to be in your company again; and, here’s what’s news with me. 🙂

Context:  What follows spans the past two-weeks.

During this time, I’ve come to terms with ANOTHER surprise/reminder of what was (recently, literally,  and euphemistically) stolen by a long-time loved one I’d re-trusted.

Rather than any lingering anger (worked through/shared about in a previous post), the other day I found myself so sad—crying in my car when, “All Of Me Loves All Of You”, came on the radio just as I pulled into my work parking lot.

To my mind, John Legend’s (2013) hit is one of the greatest odes to unconditional love…

But—on that particular day—it moonlighted as an ode to gas-lighting to boot (me in the gut)…

Yes, Wonderfuls, felt in the wake (-up call) of dissolved connection lasting 10 plus years,

the lyric,

“You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind, ‘cause all of me (loved) all of you…”,

became particularly poignant.

Paired with my (momentary) cynical interpretation, the beauty of the song became heart-wrenching as I was struck by the effortlessness of countless lies told straight to my face with no evidence of guile, reluctance, or remorse…

Nothing but cavalier talking in circles…

Circular lunacy reveling in the lazy routine that took my wasted breath away as I tried to talk to a brick-wall(ed-up heart).

I thank God, however, for my ability to compartmentalize my feelings; for, when I saw one of my favorite colleagues pull into a nearby parking spot, I swiped my tears away, exited my car, and greeted her with a resilient smile.

It was a genuine one, given that I (often) have a hair-trigger ability to switch into gratitude mode.

And, in that spirit, I continue to shine a light on my sugar-coded dark-chocolate times…

my brand of fanciful (h)artwork that, hopefully, bonds you and I; and benefits you in some way 🙂

So, in order of appearance, here are today’s thoughts:

(*A Mental Dialogue Between Me, Myself and I… 

“Time to quit stalling, Trules…you’ve collected enough coalescing snippets”.

“Okay, but, how do we even begin to share this twisted-plot with the Wonderfuls?”

“Hold-tell a minute, us—can we reserve room for considering that certain facets of our (world)view should be kept between our ears?”

“Nope.  When (roller) skating on thin ice, (common) sensoring our voice is fear’s way of convincing us that a series of backwords cross-cuts is face-saving fancy footwork…

“And, that’s a rationalization as legit as (baggage) claiming that a cat on a hot tin roof is interpretive (tap) dancing at its finest.”

“Alright, then, let’s do this bandaid style….let ‘er rip.”*)

For the past week, I’ve been talking myself out of buying some very (very!) expensive boots.

“How expensive?, you may be wondering.  What do they look like?”

Well, soul sisters and brothers,

not to be dismissive of the super-inquisitive—

or, those who think shoes and boots are fan-freakin’ (out)-tastic—

but, expensive is a relative term.

And, when preaching to the choir,

I do my best to hit all the right notes with the sopranos—

while covering all my basses—

and every member in between.

So, suffice it to say that I’ve talked myself off the platform (shoe) ledge given my understanding that buying something ultra expensive is my way of trying to buy/pass time.

(An impossible feet, given that Farther Time is the keeper of future secrets, and only time will quell—if I keep my insecurities about what’s in store for me at (Hudson’s) bay.)

However, I’m not at a loss, for time is not the enemy…and, faith has kept me company…

She’s kept me in cheque (yourself before you wreck your self) as I embraced the notion that pursuit of outside things—

in (bad customer) service of satisfying an internal urging—

is a soul-selling bargain with the devil that I can ill afford.

For, sometimes, personal growth necessitates following a path that turns on a wide and steep (learning) curve…

That’s when I need reminders that no credit is given for hoping for the best…

for, there’s no guarantee that—once unleashed—

unfolding knowings won’t run amok—and away with (out) me.

Instead, I need to do my part to tap into the wisdom of my heart; and to hold true to the conviction that I’m not doomed to repeat my past pattern of mistakes…

And, that’s how I’ve come to see that—taken to its extreme—an increased selection of un-needed boots would simply be evidence of poor(house) judgement…of showing off, not showing up…

Greater Context:

Having written this much, Terrifics, I paused for the (be)cause (I’m unsettled); and stopped by Facebook.

Almost immediately, I saw the following quote:

“Sometimes you just need to talk about something—not to get sympathy or help—but just to kill it’s power by allowing the truth of things to hit the air.” Karen Salmansohn

This is another divine sign that, when it comes to growing challenges, I do well to follow my instincts (versus my impulses).

So, friends, while I take pains not to give identifying information about who has treated me so shabbily, it has nothing to do with covering for/enabling that person (a mistake I used to make on the regular).

Instead, I’m looking for better ways to face things head on (straight), with my capacity for love and integrity in tact.

What I mean to say is–

A recovering door mat,

I refuse to ride an escal-hater.  

But, in the time it takes for a cure,

I’m taking concrete steps to ensure that others don’t leave their footprints in my moving (on up) sidewalk…

As such, creative writing continues to be my soul’s-searching…

my highs-and-lows exercise in climbing my (keep-your-eyes-on the prize) stare-way to heaven.

And, much like when you’re so hungry that, having wolfed your food down, it takes your brain a while to register that you’ve eaten–

I’m coming to understand that,

in terms of my growth,

there will be days when I’ll be better before I actually feel better.

So, during low times, I’ll count on faith to give me the shirt off her back, for,

miles ahead of me,

she’s “Been there, done that, got the tee-shirt”….

And, having accompanied me every moment I’ve been toiling in the crazy-making fact-stories where all manner of (relational) rationales, denials, and excuses have been employed, she’s washed and worn that tee-shirt until it was tattered and torn….

But, queen of things-not-always-what-they-seams-stress that she is, she makes darn sure she mends any holes (in my story) that would trip me up.

And, it’s this saving grace that leaves me in ship-shape fashion to use self-talk to write the wrongs that I’ve formerly embraced…

Faith gives me the time needed to see challenges as opportunities to make the changes that change everything for the better…

And, Loveables, this is how it came to be that, on Friday (two days ago), I dared myself–in a show of getting my groove back–to get dressed up (complete with eye-catching red lipstick and red cropped jacket) for an extended-team meeting.

This wasn’t about vanity–it was about getting back the style and flare I had before I fell into the habit of buying all manner of (bulky, wrap myself in security) sweaters needed to hold me together when I wasn’t sure that I could manage it all day on my own.

I almost chickened out, but told myself I can do better than only putting myself ‘out there’ in my blog…I needed to show up in a new light in the ‘real world’ as well…

Well, I can’t tell you how shocked I was–delightedly so–to be greeted with heart-felt exclamations of admiration and encouragement.  Someone (who I don’t even know beyond exchanging warm pleasantries) even told me that she was so proud of me.

The compliments just kept coming, and it was another reminder of how much I’d given up in service of maintaining a relationship that drained so much mental energy that getting dressed became an exercise in donning protective gear.

So, if you’ve stuck with me this far, Lovelies…here’s where I tie everything up.

My title is a play on Nancy Sinatra’s (1966) hit, “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ “.

The twist speaks to efforts focused on positive self talk…rather than instant gratification (followed by quick let-down) when using ‘retail therapy’ to try to soothe my sadness.

Instead, I cried when I needed to sob (thankfully, it never burst out of me during working hours), and I just kept telling myself that it was cathartic….nothing to be afraid of… instead, evidence of flushing toxins from my system…the last of stage of grief before the acceptance that has me so peaceful right this very minute….

Oh, and in three of those myriad magical moments the universe gifts us with when needed most..

Compliments started with my lipstick, then included my jacket and (form-fitting, grey) knit tunic…and, with even wider eyes, announcements that they loved! my riding boots…a pair I bought (on sale) eight years ago!

And, I’m convinced that, perhaps on some level, when people were telling me how beautiful and amazing I looked, it was a reflection of their intuitive understanding that my greatest beauty is found in the strength it’s taken me to fight battles they know nothing about.

And, dear-hearts, the best magical moment of all came to me as I was writing this post…

It’s my realization that, “All Of Me, Loves All Of You” has become the love song that celebrates my unconditional love for crazy, perfectly-imperfect me. 🙂

As ever, thank you for being here for–and with me–friends.  I wish you light and joy and faith.

God bless you and your loves. 🙂

Affectionately,

Truly