I wish I may, I wish I might

It occurred to me recently (while watching Oprah, no less) that the law of attraction has some merit worth further exploration. And somehow all it took was a change in my perspective, perhaps it's always been there, with me all along. Not only a secret of how to get what you want from life through crystal clear intentions, but the secret of how the world itself works, whether you give it any thought or not.

When I left New Mexico all I knew was that it was perhaps the most challenging experience of my life, and that while I was expected back in a couple of months, I had no desire to ever return. Every day my stomach was in knots waiting for the day that the phone call would come summoning me back. If only there were a way, I thought, that I would not have to do so. Secretly I wished for it. And slowly, over time, my calls were not returned. Slowly, it seemed they began to distance themselves from me. Until one day, inexplicably, I was told in no uncertain terms that I was no longer welcome back. Now this , in and of itself, is a story long enough to fill many volumes but suffice it to say that the story centers around an abusive, spiteful, possibility mentally ill matriarch hell bent on total and complete martyrdom, ridiculous false accusations, and an innocent, genuinely altruistic grandson (played by me). At the end of the day not one person in New Mexico believed I was anything but a thief and a liar. All of my many months of loving, compassionate care, of emotional turmoil, of self sacrifice were it seemed, for not. This is where I have resided for he last several months, in this emotional space, this knowledge of my time having been wasted, my character questioned, my spirit broken.

It suddenly hit me, as I sat watching this Oprah, however, that the universe had heard my wish. I had gotten exactly what I asked for. Granted, next time I might choose to be a little more specific, but nonetheless, I had been given the gift of my freedom, from ever having to return, from no longer feeling obligated. There on a silver platter exactly as I had ordered it, and it never even occurred to me.

Furthermore, why shouldn't I be grateful? Despite the pain, and the hurt, and the many family members who will forever more believe things about me that are patently false, this gift was real. Instead of living in the anger of the aftermath, why not choose to live in the gratitude of life's lessons. Does it ultimately matter what anyone thinks of me? Least of all people whom I have only met a handful of times in my entire life?

All of this time, since having first arrived in New Mexico, I have been in this tiny mental cage of emotional chaos, of obligation, and anger, and victimization, and even when she had unlocked the door, I still chose to stay inside. All it took was a change in the glasses I was wearing to view the world, and now I see that the door, that the way out of this feeling of being broken is standing wide open. And now with clear intentions I can walk through the open door out of the darkness of my depression, and into the light of my future happiness. It is a road, a journey, a process. But the door is open, the path is clear, and for the first time in a long time, I have some semblance of hope. That this feeling is not permanent, that happiness is possible, that change is on its way.

And still, I must ask, can it all really be this easy?

Chocolate Brownie Cupcakes With Peanut Butter Icing

Area Earth-Muffin Goes Granola: Cinnamon Raisin

Blueberry Crisp

Woodland Fairy Cupcakes

Forget your troubles, come on get. . .

Happy List continued. . .

• Earl Grey Tea
• An ice cold apple-tini
• Bare Minerals "well rested"
• the word "relevant"
• photographing food
• ficus
• laughing until I (nearly) pee
• saturday night cocktails and dessert
• Pandora online radio
• mashed potatoes
• homemade gravy
• Jam
• absolute black granite counter tops
• black and white checkered floors
• stemless glassware
• old friends who understand
• fruit salad
• Pike's Market
• Augusten Burroughs
• Reading funny blogs
• ridiculous (yet hysterical) e-cards
• the thought of getting forearm tattoos
• thumb rings
• Iced tea
• lime popsicles
• a full gas tank
• smoked blue cheese
• Ham
• Panini
• Turkey cranberry sandwiches
• Gift cards saved for a rainy day
• My cherry pitter
• Salad bars
• My Website (thanks p-dog)
• Youtube
• "In my book. . ."
• Dogwood trees in bloom
• Silpat baking mats
• Having double ovens
• dinner guests
• Playing bartender
• inventing new cocktails
• martini pitchers with glass stirrers
• Thai iced tea
• Tokyo Iced Tea
• Rose's sweetened lime juice
• reading before bed
• long hot showers
• Not being in California
• Vanilla Bean Paste

Vacancy

Lately I have had a hard time investing any amount of emotional energy or feeling into the things around me. Old pictures, mementos, carefully collected gorgeous things, treasured family heirlooms, all feel like nothing. I imagine that they should invoke in me a sense of wonder, or sentiment, or flood me with memories of good times, like once they did, but they do not. I feel nothing. I am vacant.

I dug out a porcelain coffee and silver tea service yesterday, both handed down to me from generations past. And as I sat staring at them, in all of their hideously antiquated glory, all I could think was 'why do I even have these.' I can't decide if I once loved them because of the respect and love I had for those who gave them to me, if it is in fact those feelings themselves that have faded leaving these artifacts feeling more like emotional litter on the side of the freeway of my life. It isn't so much that I feel weighed down by all of this stuff, as I have plenty of room in which to house it. Perhaps it is rather that I have not the spare emotional energy to invest in them, in anything. Lots of physical space, but no spiritual room.

Even my relationships with many of my family and friends seem to have fallen by the wayside. I know that I do care a great deal about them, that they have a place, a role, a contribution to make to my life, but I simply cannot muster the energy to keep in contact. It is more than having nothing to say, though that too plays a significant role of late, but I guess I am still in this place, this vacant, empty place. I have no emotional or spiritual fuel left to burn. I am running on empty. It amazes me that even as time passes, I still am not replenished. I have not found anything with which to feed my spirit, to fuel my life, my interactions, relationships, emotional investments. I am exhausted even writing this. I just don't know what to do. I am not sad. I am empty. I feel nothing. Clearly time does not heal everything. Time is not what I need. But what is? Where do I go from here? Where will I find the source of my spiritual spring?

It'll make you sass your mamma!