As Writers, We Lay Our Hearts Open

Trail of Glitter

Facebook status update: Any day is a good day when you leave your therapist’s office and don’t want to cut yourself.

Yes, that was my status update today. One of them, anyway. I’m a teeny bit of a Facebook Whore. It’s where my words started flowing, so stuff it if you don’t like it.

If you’ve spent any time at all reading my blog, you know that I’m an open book. I lay my heart open quite easily. Without trepidation. It mortifies my mother and other family members. That’s okay though. I say the things that many are thinking. Beware of the fearless woman with a potty mouth.

After I posted, a dear friend and fellow writer sent me a private message. Seems she was concerned about my comment and wanted to check in on me. I assured her that all was well. I’m happy, today. I can’t promise that I will be tomorrow. It’s kind of a crap shoot with me. If you think I like being this moody, I don’t. It’s who I am though.

Back to the correspondence between my friend and me:

Oh honey, it was supposed to be funny. I promise, I’m okay. I have bouts of depression and euphoria. Borderline personality disorder, anxiety and panic disorder, ADHD and a host of other issues. I’m also a sexual abuse survivor.

Today is a good day though. Life is good and there is a smile on my face. I would not trade what I’ve been through, but I don’t wish it on others.

I’m a funny woman, with a dark side. I need incredible amounts of validation too. I couldn’t write well if I didn’t have my darkness. Everyone sees a happy and sunny woman when they look at me. Little do they know there’s so much more to me than what’s on the surface……

Thank you for your message my friend. Thank you for your friendship. I want you to know if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for you too.

Always, Renee
The not always sparkly girl

As writers, we lay our hearts open. As our readers, you follow us to some places we wouldn’t even let a lover go. I’ve no idea why, but I think it’s what God wants me to do. Break myself open, and bleed all over the place. I figure somebody has to do it, it might as well be me.

Sparkle on my sweet friends. Sparkle on.

My Hometown Glory-A Reunion of Sorts

I’ve been walking in the same way as I did
Missing out the cracks in the pavement
And turning my heel and strutting my feet
“Is there anything I can do for you dear?
Is there anyone I could call?”
“No and thank you, please Madam.
I ain’t lost, just wandering”

This whole thing started because Danny and I said we were going to have a drink together the day after Thanksgiving. I haven’t seen the man in 25 years. I got the bright idea to create a Facebook event for it. I figured what the hell, there’d be 10-12 of us. And then it BLEW UP! I’ve had people message me that graduated in 1980 that want to come this event. We now have over 50 people attending. Dan’s Tavern has been well stocked with beer and Laurie and her husband had a banner made. It even has my web address on it!!

When I started writing I never knew where it would go. I never knew it would lead me home. To Saline. To my old friends. To my new friends. I never knew that most of my support would come from those I didn’t even know back in high school. I hated Saline. I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out. To find another life. Hard to believe that writing would bring me back home.

Round my hometown
Memories are fresh
Round my hometown
Ooh the people I’ve met
Are the wonders of my world

Most of us have not seen each other face to face in over 25 years. Some of us have never met! But we have created a loving community on Facebook. Folks that would NEVER have been friends in high school are friends on Facebook. We support each other. We love each other. And we bitch at each other. We find out news of those that we lost as far back as 25 years ago. And as early as weeks ago. We celebrate them tonight too. We celebrate that our Death Valley Days are over. That we are still here. But we also realize we are mortal. As we grow older, we are reminded of it every day. Tonight we raise a toast to those that have gone before us. To our Death Valley Days. To the loss of our innocence as teenagers and the coming together of an unlikely group of people. I’m so thankful for everyone of you!

We also want to raise a glass to our very own Axl Rose. Our RD. Happy Birthday my sweet friend. I’m so glad that you have found happiness. That your life is good. I remember your voice. The way you sang. Full of gravel and attitude. Funny how I haven’t heard that voice in so many years, but as I read your posts it rings in my ears. It’s so good to finally hear it again. Happy Birthday my dear Ronnie!

Enjoy the night and know that this will be an annual event. We will come together every year. Take over a bar and share our lives. To us, to life, and our old home town of Saline. CHEERS!

That First French Kiss

Give me a kisse, and to that kisse a score;
Then to that twenty, adde a hundred more;
A thousand to that hundred; so kisse on,
To make that thousand up a million;
Treble that million, and when that is done,
Let’s kisse afresh, as when we first begun.
~Robert Herrick, “To Anthea (III)”

He was 13, and so was I. We were babies. I was tall, curvy, and built. I may have been 13, but I was 5 ‘ 6″ tall, long flaxen hair, blue eyes, and size DD breasts. He was short, dark haired, and a bad ass. His gorgeous eyes, I fell into on a regular basis. He always liked girls like me. Thick. I remember he took me home to meet his mother and she was convinced I was 18.

He thought I was fast,  cuz I’d kissed a 16 year old boy before. I thought he was adorable. With his backwards baseball cap and smart mouth. I gave him his first French kiss. On Huron Parkway, just before he was about to walk home. I can’t remember if we ever kissed each other again. Or how our story ended. I remember that kiss though. And so does he.

How do I know he remembers? Because we found each other again. 31 years later. We chat from time to time and laugh about how cool we thought we were. Now we’re grown. Have kids of our own. And we pray to God that they don’t do half the crazy shit we did when we were growing up.

I have often thought of him. How life had turned out for him.  It took a mutual friend contacting me on good old Facebook to get us reacquainted. She said, “you know, his mom still talks about you showing up at his house with him and her being convinced you were 18.” I laughed, and told her, “I’d completely forgotten about that.”

I will never forget that kiss though. He was a great kisser. Even at the age of 13, he was a great kisser.

It’s Time for a Road Trip!

Almost Heaven, West Virginia-John Denver

It’s been about 30 years since I’ve seen one of my dear BFFs, split apart, soul-mate, love of my life. She and I were friends when we were in high school. Not close by any means, but we always ended up at the same parties. In the same social situations. I was in awe of her. She was a beautiful young woman. Blonde haired, blue eyed and gorgeous. Vivacious. Full of fun. Dangerous. The boys loved her. I wanted to be her. Wanted to be closer to her. She was older than I was by a couple of years, so we didn’t connect until years later.

We became friends on Facebook. We shared stories, laughs, tears, and memories. We also found out that we had dated a lot of the same guys from back in the day. We found that we were also so much alike. We write. We love to read. We find life to be incredibly exciting and cosmic. We live for adventure and love. She is a beauty. In mind, body and spirit. She completes me. I talked to a mutual FB friend who told me I needed to get my ass to West Virginia. I agreed it was time. It was time to pack up, load the car with another good friend or friends and head down the road in Candy Blue, the stripper mobile.

It’s time to find my split apart that I haven’t seen in 30 years. It’s time for us to hang out in an old cabin and look at all the beauty surrounding us. It’s time for us to sit at a campfire and contemplate the universe in all of our infinite wisdom. It’s time to get a little Thelma and Louise and have ourselves a kick ass time. To realize that life is still worth living and that we are still just as viable as we were when we were teenagers. To laugh ourselves silly and cry a bit too. To reconnect and find out why we love each other so much, even though we haven’t spoken out loud to each other in 30 years. It’s time for new memories. It’s time for some new ink. For an angel to sit upon my shoulder. Or possibly the top of my foot. So that I will always, always remember who has my back. Who always loves me. To remember that a bit of my heart belongs in West Virginia. I love you T, my angel, I’m going to be there to see you soon!