The mask of Anonymity

Anonymity.. safety behind the mask. Is it used for  power, for cowardly motives? Armor for vulnerability held only by a tenuous thread? Or outright maliciousness? Which way do you wear the mask?  Do you have more? Do you even wear one?

Have I ever used an anonymity mask? I know I've needed it in the past, to deflect  arrows that were aimed my way for whatever reasons. Be it something I had done or from the unhappiness of another.   It would of come in handy, after all you can't penetrate the outer shell so there's protection and strength behind it, yes?
No.
No matter how tough the outer shell, what's inside is still vulnerable.

Despite the safety of being anonymous we all have signatures we're known by. The way we walk or talk, the clothes we wear or places we haunt. All those things generate from the core of who we are.
It's also very much evident in the way we write.
I received a couple of comments on several pieces I have written in the last couple of months. I understood the need for the anonymity and I don't blame the person for wearing that mask. I would have too, given the circumstances. But there are still risks involved. Sometimes, no matter how intricate the mask, parts of ourselves peek through.

These two comments ,while given behind safety of her mask, affected me to the very center of my being. I knew where it came from and the importance of them. I was complimented on my writing from someone whom I consider a highly talented writer.
The sheer act ( and I mean sheer, I knew what it took ) of taking that risk and reaching out humbled me, reaching way down, smoothing a layer of salve on a very deep scar. It also marched right up to my heart and parked itself there, demanding an acknowledgment of what never left... love.
Damn it. I didn't want this, I don't want to have to answer to my emotions all the time. Why do I have to feel each and every last emotion? To chew on it , stick it somewhere only to pick at it again till I know every nuance, every last layer of it?

But as I write this, I don't have a mask to hide behind. I can't begin to convey how desperately I need want one. I'm looking to crawl behind a thick door of steel. I don't like the vulnerability, arrows don't go right through me when I'm in this state, they have the power to burrow and embed.
When all is said and done, I don't want this post to chase her away, I'm taking a chance, I know. 
But if she risked reaching out , I owe her the respect of acknowledging it without a mask of anonymity.

Mother Nature's right P.O'ed.

The last two evenings we've been smacked by some intense storm cells. 
What do you think of our fine Alberta skies? Like everything else here, it's 
go big or go home.

Uhoh, time to take cover, ya? But not me, nope. I'm the dummy standing outside taking pictures.






 

If you look closely, it resembles a fist don't you think? It packed quite the punch too.









 

Moody and mighty mad.

 Ok, so how dark can the skies get already?!

  
Ah yes, in the design world it's all about texture. Lots of 'texture' here. And the drops of rain that followed were fat and mean.

Living in Alberta, a person learns to watch the skies. Do you see this green'ish colour? This is a bad bad sign. This is usually the colour that precedes a tornado. Which, luckily, didn't happen. Whew! 












Welcome to a typical Alberta summer's night when Mother Nature unleashes her fury. Irked a tad, wouldn't you say?

Walking a tightrope of my own doing

I've been struggling with this post all week. I find it hard to put emotions out there. Ironically the person I'm writing about here would get that. But one has to colour outside the lines sometimes, it's not all about comfort zones.
And when I write, I write for me.
So I guess this is a letter to myself. I hope it helps.

Dreams. Are they the product of your subconscious? Unanswered questions? A way for the mind to process?
I'm one of the unlucky ones that suffer night terrors but fret not for me. I married my nightmare slayer. He pulls me out of them, into the velvety darkness of night. Better to be awake in pitch black than down in the dredges of nightmare terror. But... this isn't about nightmares or my slayer.
It's about the dreams I've been having lately. Dreams of someone I cared deeply about, she's hurting and I want to help but I can't.
It spills unto my conscious waking state causing me to go tripping down memory lane a lot. And it really saddens me.

Last year I had to walk away from a deep friendship for many complex reasons. If truth be told, I think we were both heading that way, each having reached a point with SO much strife in our lives. Only I know I'm held accountable for it all. That's the part that makes me so so sad. I'm tired of having to carry the whole weight of the blame, to have to be given 'toxicity' award of the year, it's hard. It hurts and it's a heavy load to carry. 

I'm trying to work through that but it's my heart that won't let me. I keep hoping she'll will realize one day it's not all one sided but I'm losing faith that it will ever balance out. I would 'feel' it if it ever did, wouldn't I?

I can hear what you are saying...you say it's my own doing, this weight I carry to but you're wrong. It's the 'knowing' part that slivers and jags  at the reality. She knows  she didn't do wrong, I know it takes two but I know she takes comfort in her beliefs and carries on, while I feel the utter sadness of knowing the entire blame was passed on to me. I truly envy her for it. 
I wonder if time will blur the edges of the hurt, on both sides. I can't carry this knot around my heart for ever, it's very crowding. And I can't keep dreaming like this, there's no resolve.
Maybe when I start working again, I'll be too tired to think or sense.
Or dream.
Maybe I just need to grab my camera and go visually sooth my soul.
Maybe I need to talk to a professional.
Maybe I need a vacation.

Sigh.
Wanna know the bitch of it all? I miss the good parts of what made 'us'.

My tightrope, my balance.
I'm trying to find it.

Places and Faces

Ok so for those that say there's never any
pictures of me, here.. this one's for you.

Patio opened till midnight. But call ahead mmkay? It fills up fast.

I happened upon this lovely couple enjoying
their lunch break by the lake. I would of fallen clean asleep with my face to the sun.

Oh lol she was trying so hard to blow that thing up!

It's multifaceted.. like me.

Ouch! Like the look she leveled at me? Ladies and gents, I

introduce to you my youngest daughter. Mother to

my lil spitfire who, one day, will aim that look at her

mother. And I'll be sitting there with the camera to record the glorious moment.

Ahh my lil spitfire. Want to know what she's eating? Raw, yes I say raw onions. She loves them alongside pickles and olives.
Smack like her Auntie Bella.

 




I'd say that well ran dry, ya?

A busy little beaver indeed. Takes some strong teeth to gnaw through that.

I used to walk to the end of that dock before the rains came. And now the last two sections have detached. I hope the powers that be fix it. Soon.

A funny thing happens when..

I remember Martial Arts Academy. A year of street level kickboxing. With a martial arts instructor that lived/breathed/ate his craft. At times I couldn't even climb out of the jeep after 2 1/2 hrs with him, I was that sore. But I didn't quit, I wanted to. What the hell had I gotten myself into? I was the oldest student there. ( I was 40 at the time, general age was in the 20s.) But at the end of my year I walked away with a sense of pride and a major big can of whoop ass under my belt. (it's power tripping to be able to throw a solid punch and a bone snapping kick.) I also walked away with my Sihing's  respect. Even if he was considered anal (read crazy) in some circles, I had his respect. Highly sought after but rarely achieved for those of us who survived were part of his academy.High fives to me, ya!

My Interior Design certificate. Two years of night school, working almost full time, raising two teenager girls. (shudder)  Hubby was gone for long periods of time on the pipeline. I had ,at times,  25 to 30 hours a week of homework for school. How did I manage?? I couldn't tell you to this day.
And now I'm looking for more. I want to go back to school, I just don't know what for.
Sign Language?
Photography?
The rush of being able to do it when I thought I couldn't is addictive. Why O WHY couldn't I have applied myself to this when I was in high school? But we all know what high school was/is for most girls, a place to see or be seen, a bitchfest, a social gathering.
Ahhhh if I could go back....I'd pass up the opportunity. Thanks but no thanks. I'm liking the here and now more. No more acne and glasses are a fashion statement these days.

I'm not about blowing my own horn but I've had way to much time to think lately. I need to be able to remember my achievements. A funny thing happens when your last child moves out of the house and you stop working for a bit. You lose yourself, your identity and in a real way your self esteem.

So pardon my need to splay out what I've done. I'm just trying to boost myself up while I ignore the dishes and laundry. ( didn't those stupid things get magically done when I worked? No wait, I remember, I used to do them in an exhausted sleepwalking induced coma.) 

Time for my second cup of coffee and I think I'll glance through the employment section for a bit, just to see what I probably won't could do.. if I take the notion. 

On second thought I'm going to Starbucks, no dishes and house 'stuffs' taunting me there. Just noise, coffee and people. 

Hello world, I'm coming out to play.

What about you? What are you 'pat on the back' moments?
No bashfulness here, mmkay? Splay it out!