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Dillon Beach

I remember when I was young coming to Dillon Beach the first time with friends. A boyfriend in fact. A group of couples camping, I was maybe 14. Then we came often alone. Then I came often alone- after I’d run away. This place has always held a piece of my heart. Wasted youth.

Oh the parties we had on the beach, the bonfires and fun. To be so young and so in love with life; in love with him too. I remember. I still had so many hopes and dreams- school, friends, family and travel. I was 13 when I met him and almost 16 when I left him; when I left the life that I knew.

I met John on my 13th birthday in fact at the kegger my 20 year old boyfriend and I were throwing at my house. Good times. My mother had left for the evening- intentionally so I could have the party. My uncle had furnished a few extra bottles of booze; pre-mixed Long Island Ice Tea, Meyers Rum and of course my fave Southern Comfort. Yes times were different.

Bobby Scott was the older boyfriend who I would leave shortly after my birthday. I’d been in love with him since maybe the age of 9; the local charmer from Arden Manor. He used to have all the girls swooning at the swimming pool- he was a diver from the high board. Bobby was always sweet to us though and threw everyone off his shoulders into the water. He died a few years back from a broken heart in his addiction.

If you would have said I would grow up to be an addict when I was a kid- no one would have believed you. I didn’t even know what an addict was. I did though, grow up to be an addict. Yes through the choices I made I chose using over everything until I found a new way to live.

I remember coming to this beach about 8 years ago with my family and as my kids played in the ocean I laid back and shed a lot of tears for the life that I chose. How did that happen? I knew exactly when- when I ran and left him. I would not stop running for years. Sure I came up for air sometimes, but those wee brief moments never lasted long.

It was an argument with Mom that sparked it. John and her were close, close enough for her to write letters all over the state of California helping him get on with the California Department of Forestry. However this argument led to a threatening of police intervention and having him arrested for statutory rape. The man I had been with for years. The man I planned a whole lot of my life with, her too. The man that I convinced to let me terminate the child I was carrying. I wanted to wait.

His mother took that real hard, so did John. Something was different in me though. I was already using more than anyone knew and had witnessed too much. The secrets were already there. The things that I had been subjected too and seen at a young age would already mold my thinking- for years to come.

After the argument I went to John, he knew, she had already been to his work. His words, let me shower and we can go together to talk to her, we will work it out and it will all be ok. Of course I said ok. He jumped in the shower, I yelled in I was going to the corner for a pack of smokes- I never returned. Ever to him.

My sense of protection was all I had for so long. Warped I might add. I was not protected when I was young so all I had was the code that I would create- what meant something to me. To leave at all costs and protect them from her and her would eventually become me.

Well right now my grandchildren are stirring and I must get breakfast started. So far it’s ice cream and cocoa until I create a masterpiece for my family. We are at the beach house at Dillon Beach. I’ve shed a few tears this morning alone before anyone woke as I looked out the bay window clacking this out on my phone sipping my coffee in between.

I have an incredible life. I know the choices that I made have led me to the life that I have today and I appreciate it so much. I’ve learned from that little girl, I’m still learning from that little girl. The more I write the more she heals. So I will continue to write, I will continue to heal and I will continue to love my life!

Addict · Bloggess · Farmer · Life · Mother · Recovery

Finding Christine….

Just a bit about this blog, it was written last year on this day- August 7, 2016.  It came up in a memory on Facebook, a good one.  As I reflect on it I’m currently in Sturgis, South Dakota at the 77th Sturgis Motorcycle Rally with a man I love.  We have been riding all over, not just here but everywhere.  Who would have thought that this is where I would be today?  Just get up and go do things before it’s too late.  Or in my case as I always say, it’s never too late.

I am still on the journey finding Christine and passion for life; I hope my quest never stops, enjoy.

Sunday Morning with Coffee and Chicken’s

Finding Christine…..

How absolutely amazing is it to finally start finding yourself, OK, continue to find yourself at the age of 47?  The saying for me, “getting better with age”, really encompasses my choices and zest for life.

I am growing up, still gratefully learning who and what I want to be. Finding the FUN in life. You may see my Facebook side, which is actually me go figure.   However, just a few short years ago I was very sedate, quiet, I stayed in woman’s meetings and the only way you knew me is if we did service together or I was asked to chair.  I would walk in, throw it down, and walk out; still not letting you in.  I stayed home every weekend and babysat grandkids, joyfully, EVERY weekend. Hahaha Daughter moved away, far enough so that I became a visitor, not a nanny, kids got older, and I started venturing out.   Creepin.

Time has a way of healing if you do the work, and I did, do, and am.

I needed that time, to work on Christine.  I had a lot of figuring out to do.   I still do.  One thing that I have been figuring out though is that I am going to have fun in whatever I am doing.  If I do service, I have fun and still manage to get the job done.   I do a lot of service. This act I do for others is really very selfish; it has done more for me.  It has allowed me to meet some amazing people and let people into my life and my home, I don’t do that. I am a very private person.  Secret Squirrel Morraco Mole type of private.

Coming up on 8yrs soon, over 3 yrs in my home and I only have 2 things on the walls at my house of which I just added this past year.   Almost as if I was waiting for the other shoe to drop and I might lose it all.  More likely that I somehow was gonna fuck it all up and walk away, one more time.  I don’t have those fears anymore.  Those are choices, that I am no longer willing to make.  So I do the work, stay in the middle, let people in, some I let right back out.

I am getting better with age!

The Chicken Lady

Life

The Long Ride Home….

It’s a Sunday over here on the yard.  The sun has long since been up and regardless of what time I went to sleep last night, past midnight though which just doesn’t happen much for me anymore, I am still an early riser.  The sounds of the chicken’s however got me moving this morning.  The egg laying calls which signal I have slept in, leaves rustling out by the side fence, and just the chatter of my lovely ladies; 16 hen’s and counting.  I can almost feel the season changing into fall-I love the fall most.  This little piece has taken some time to get started.  The coffee had to be made, the dogs fed, the cat let in and out; all of that while I shuffle around the house on my hardwood floors in my slippers.  Not to mention just the fact that my mind wanders from here to yesteryear and back in an instant, sometimes it just wanders into the back-forty with the chicken’s and the sounds of the birds in the trees.

Last weekend I went on an amazing trip, one might say a once in a lifetime trip.  However I have a feeling there will be plenty more once in a lifetimes with him, there have been so many already I stopped counting.  We rode to Los Angeles from Sacramento along the coast and back on his Harley for a concert to remember, one I definitely will.  The music was classic, it was actually called The Classic West; from a time when I was young and the memories were still good, it is still my favorite music.  I know he wondered if I could make it, I knew I could and as I always told him leading up to the trip-it would be him who would have to haul me, I would just be holding on and I did.

I am a crier.  I never was a crier before.  From a very young age I seemed to have shut off emotions altogether.  The means to feel anything for anyone had long since been removed almost out of necessity or second if not first nature, even for myself.  The gift of being in touch with yourself and the capacity it takes to feel all the feelings, the good and bad is something I will never take for granted again. Many years after I found a new way to live a common theme resurfaced from my past.  Did you even care about me?  Did you ever even love me?  The answer was always the same; yes, to the best of my ability.

Gratefully the tears of joy and gratitude constantly flow from my face on a regular basis today and everyday for the life that I live now.  I often times reflect while I am driving alone in the car; I spent so much of my previous life in solitude driving in a car on my way somewhere.  Always thinking.  It’s no wonder that driving is still a time for reflection for me.  Being on the back of a bike was something completely different.  So much so that I came home and started window shopping for my own, but that story will be another day in the future.  The sense of freedom I felt while riding through California was astounding; it literally took my breath away.  There was a lot of healing happening on the back of that bike for me while he hauled me from here to there.

I have managed to do quite of work on me, the inside stuff throughout the years.  What I know is that it will probably never be done, that work of the heart and soul; I am thankful for the knowledge of that.  It is like that onion they speak of, layers.  Sometimes even though you have healed that part, something comes up to remind you of it and you get to do a bit more healing.  If you are lucky enough to look at how it affected you and your choices.

Well on the long ride home I shed a whole layer of that onion just like that along with a quite a few tears.  Maybe it was the scenery?  Maybe it was the company?  Maybe it was both?  More than likely it was just the time it took to get where I needed to be, metaphorically, to let some of my past go.  That trip would take me through quite a bit of my life; on a long desert highway, cool wind in my hair.

I lead a pretty charmed life nowadays, one that is full of love.  I don’t think he will ever have to wonder once if I love him either; my eyes tell a different story today.  In fact no one wonders anymore if the light is on, I can’t stop shining. This little tale started in the wee hours of the morning and ended up taking a hiatus until my return from another ride, just a day trip with friends celebrating life!  My chicken’s are now on their roosts for the night; in fact my own little chicken’s, my daughters, are ready for bed too goodnight.

The Chicken Lady

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