The First Smile of the Day

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Bombarded, tormented, overwhelmed, I went to bed last night. Meditation helped to calm the rush of my thoughts, but the cacophony never stays silent for long. I slept. I woke up. My first thought when I wake up is always, “NO! Please. No, not again.”

A rough morning. In bed with my thoughts while my husband attempts to get the kids to do their homework. Feeling hopeless.

I cry, but I know tears won’t fix anything. My husband brings me coffee and something to break my fast. I eat and drink and listen to an audio book. I play Bejeweled. I work on losing my accent; it disgusts me.

I have determined to rid myself of the vexing accent. But, like everything else detestable about myself, it continues to force itself upon me unwanted.

The American accent is hard, ugly. It sticks out like an extremely sore thumb. It’s distressingly unmusical sounding. Rough…and comical. It sounds uneducated, even if one has been an academic and applied themselves to learning.

It’s another of my exercises in futility; another losing battle. But…I keep trying.

I don’t know why it should be so difficult for me to affect the superior, musical lilt. I’m a musician. A singer. This would suggest that I have a good ear, that I am able to match pitch and mimic sound. I DO IT ALL THE BLOODY TIME. I should be able to “sing” the “song” of received English just the same.

But, I should be able to make phone calls, too.

Yeah… sigh and #!*%¡*¢!

Needing a lyre harp and being unable to get one (everyone who sells the ones I can afford insist on using paypal…why can’t they just take plastic??? And, no, don’t tell me how brilliant paypal is; it really isn’t…and anyway, the bottom line is, I can’t get my harp).

Obsessed and tormented. A morning of frustrated tears.

Then. I asked Jamie to bring me a big shirt to put on…me being sans clothing and thinking about getting out of bed. I referred to my nakedness. He smiled and cupped my breast in his hand. Suddenly, my face, there it was: the first smile of the day.

My husband locked the door and the therapy continued.

Music is therapeutic. Meditation is therapeutic. I regularly post about my therapies of choice. Sex is a particularly excellent one.

Why? Like music, there is surrender and abandon; it overcomes the mind and can drown out the cacophony. Also, there’s the giving aspect: I’m not only receiving pleasure (and therapy), I’m giving therapy. It’s good medicine.

Sexual healing. It’s not just a song. It’s a science. My smile is proof. 

Desperation and obsession still assault me, desire, frustration, exhaustion… but, any moment of relief, delight is something so precious, something to be grateful for. As I write, the smile makes another appearance. And, I’ll finish this post with the meme I made for my FB page yesterday:

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Piercings and a Smile

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Not showing you all of my piercings. 😉 But, what I am showing is a doubly rare sight…well, a triple-y rare sight. One, this is my face sans any makeup. Two, it’s an untouched photo. Three, I’m smiling. I feel comfortable enough in my metal face to show the world this (or, the tiny part of the world that pays attention to my blog…yeah, thank you, by the way). 

What some may deem a midlife crisis, I call a regeneration (ala Doctor Who).

I’m becoming myself. Someone asked me what I was trying to prove with these piercings. I told her that I wasn’t trying to prove or make a statement to anyone. Other than, perhaps, that it isn’t a “certain type” of person who gets tattoos and piercings; I have always liked challenging stereotypes. But, these facial piercings are as much for me personally as the one I’m not going to show you is (I can’t show you, but, boy oh boy, I can certainly RECOMMEND the piercing to you).

How people, wrongly or not, interpret the way I decorate the house of my soul is really not my concern. I am not my body. And, they are not my judges.

I’m making myself comfortable in my own skin. That’s a good thing as far as I’m concerned. And, I’m happy enough with my decorations that I am able to show you my really real face. 😀

On A Happy Note

After yesterday’s post (here: http://songmistress.posterous.com/making-the-dance-bearable <—- everyone should read it, more people need to “get it”), I figured it was time to post a positive:

I am really digging my new hair cut! I call this picture “Time To Smile”:  

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I like how this style expresses my personality, and I like how it shows off my musical ink (thus the happy note). I admit, even though it was completely my decision to go with this style, I was afraid that I would regret it the day after I had it done. I don’t regret it, and I am constantly amazed that I don’t. On the contrary, I am really happy with it.  It is really nice that other people are telling me they (honestly) like it and that it suits me. They also tell me that it is very brave.  Well, part of it (the left side and the back) is brave… but, this is why I have the right side… the long side that covers, rather than exposes – because, while part of me is…exibitionist/performer, the other part is, most definitely, a socially awkward introvert. I am a walking contradiction. Why shouldn’t my hair be, as well? I like the way it feels, and I like the way it feels (some will understand this, some won’t). I like the way it looks. It helps a lot that my Jamie thinks it’s super sexy, but the nicest thing of all about it is not what anyone else thinks. It’s what I think about it. How liberating is that? So, it’s time for a happy note, a time to smile: it’s a moment of grace in “The Dance”.