Journaling Through The Years, Episode Twelve: So, what's love, really?

In this episode, my 15 year old self attempts to explain the definition of love and share why people need people. You will also learn the alternatives to "pinky promise". Watch & learn! (If nothing else, watch to the end for the pretty kitty.)

Purely FanFiction from the 90210 Fan Girl

 The following is the exerpt from Brenda Walsh-McKay's journal:

Here's how it went down.  So, Dylan and Kelly got married in 2002, together they had Sammy, an adorable little child.  However, as much as the two loved each other, they found that marriage was not meant for them.  They continue to work to co-parent their beautiful child.  

After the marriage dissolved, Dylan took to the road for awhile to find himself through traveling, as he always had been.  I hadn't heard or seen him since I left Southern California way back in the nineties, preferring to put that time out of my life.  My brother, Brandon, had kept me in the know as much as possible, but I never insisted, only wanting to know what was pertinent to our family.  However, at the death of our father, who passed shortly after our mother two years previous, I did ask Brandon for updates on all my former high school classmates.  Kelly was still living in Beverly Hills working  as a life coach, Steve was happily married with Janet and with several children.  Donna and David were still going strong.  Andrea was happily divorced and pursuing her career as a screenwriter.  Dylan, although he kept in regular touch with his son, was whereabouts unknown to the rest.  Hearing his name brought back a pang to my heart, surprising to me that after all these times he still had that affect  upon me.

I went back to England where I have been working within the theatre and art world.  One day I was busy at my administrative job at the art studio when my assistant informed me I had a visitor in the front.  I asked her the name and she replied simply, "A Dylan McKay".  Shocked, I hurried down the stairs unbelieving that it could actually be him.

But, there he was, standing in the foyor, looking around and when I walked in, he turned to face me.  I took him in then, once again.  Although time had passed over his face, well-worn it was with the history of his life, he was still my Dylan, still the smoldering charm I had fallen for so many years ago, but somehow that demeanor had softened.   Upon seeing me, his arms opened and into them I ran, smelling the warmth of him as he embraced.  The above selfie was taken in that happiest of moments.  We agreed to meet after I finished my shift for dinner.  As he walked out the door, he turned, with a twinkle in his eye, and marveled at how I had grown to be such a metropolitan Londoner, he still considered himself the rough and tumble bad boy on the motorcycle.  Laughing we recalled the bad blonde job I had had when he and I chatted on that street nearby my Beverly Hills home.

Later at dinner, we caught each other up on the recent news from home.  He was heartbroken over the loss of Jim and Cindy, who he had always considered parents' of his own, stable, loving, always there, and full of nonjudgment.  After dinner, we walked arm in arm through the city catching each other up on all our times personally in recent years.  Surprisingly, we found each other both single at that time and suddenly in that instant realized why relationships had always found themselves going sour, it was each other we were meant for.

We spent three beautiful months basking in the warmth of rekindled love, of which I wish not to give too many details, for this at once I wish to keep private, not on display for the world's eye to capture.  Close to the end of that third month, Dylan expressed his desire to 'make me an honest woman' and capture me forever as 'his little woman'.  Knowingly, Dylan this was meant in jest but the desire to wed was simply both something we wanted.

It was a small affair.  Due to my father's demise, it was Brandon who walked me down the aisle towards my forever love, Brandon who gave me to Dylan, which feels so exactly right when I think upon it.  Kelly and Donna were there and the night previous we had a quiet girl's night similar to old times, yet the years had weathered any bad blood between us and we found in each other the wisdom of maturity that enhanced our love and friendship.  Steve and Andrea, unable to get away from their work in time, watched by zoom call.  All the modern times.

We had four wonderful years together, filled with much growth of our souls personally and united.  We enjoyed having Sammy into our home for holidays as well as welcomed Kelly, an untraditional happy little family.  

However, in the fifth year of our wedded bliss, my Dylan was diagnosed with colon cancer and at the time too far gone, not caught in time.  Dylan and I had six months together before he breathed his last, laying beside me in bed, holding my hand until the last.

I wish to share this not to wound with such sad tidings, but only to express the reality that true love is a reality, is not what I had dreamt and believed as a young teenager, and is expressed far beyond what is visible within our scope of reality.  My union with Dylan continues even though his physical absense and I still see him everywhere, as well as feel him with me at all times, as I always have.

Believe in love, not merely the romantic, but the true power of it all, that will sustain throughout all the hardships and heartbreaks of life's journey, that which is brought upon by our own frailties and also the needed lessons to help us evolve to our most highest selves. 

My Self Employed Life & How I Thrive

 

My life may not be conventional but that means not that it is not busy.  Increasingly, I am finding satisfaction and fulfillment working the gigworker full-time, having an intense workload with all my various paid for hire activities that it all adds up to the full-time affair.  Furthermore, my bank accounts remain faithfully in the black and living within my means begins to increase higher as I decrease my overall debt.

That said, it isn't necessary a path for all.  Some may thrive within the framework of the traditional 9-5, as it were, or rather working for an established business wherein an an employer defines the schedule for the employee.  I am one that did not thrive in this societally approved established way of living, in fact, I lost my mind and was given the diagnosis of bipolar, unable to work the norm due to not being able to handle the stress of it all.

Disability does not cover all my expenses, both the monthly bills and the debt to be paid off, not to mention, you know, good ol' fashion fun, nor do merely pursuing the creative pursuits.  For a year, I attempted to make my way following the path merely of creativity and found that the strain and constant anxiety of not having the regular income to care for my day to day needs over-weighed my ability to create.  Thus, I had to return to the paid gig life and what I then discovered was the balance of producing the content through my creativity and scheduling the time for the many 'money-making' jobs helped secure my overall sense of self worth and peace of mind.  

And, a balance it is,with two planners, one large and one small, and a wall calendar, each filled with markings of dates of employment and other necessary appointments, a myriad of spreadsheets managing my in-flow and out-flow of expenses as well as one for all my debts.  In addition to my 'money-making' and personal expenses, I have a multitude of spreadsheet related to my self-employed pursuits as a film producer and entrepreneur extraordinaire.  

As I increasingly find peace in this destined, long sought after, and finally attained path, I have discovered the art of clearly defining my personal daily and weekly schedule.  EX: I wake up with a clear focus on what I need to accomplish for the day, the week, and the month, a regular list on a 3X4 card on my desk that I check off as I finish a task, filled with the dogwalks, modeling appointments, as well as the entrepeneurial tasks such as monthly newsletters, scheduling rehearsals and film shoots, and content creation for both short-term and long-term projects.  Through all of this, I have discovered what fits for me personally, starting my work day with the variety of tasks around 8:00 am and ending around 6:00 pm; Yes, that's right, coming to a clear time when my brain decides it can do no more of this computer type busyness and must allow itself to freely fall into the evening activity without a care or concern related to the business mind present.

All that success mentioned, I still have moments of anxiety when the income seems to be trickling in slower yet with that there is increasingly less of a worry with the reality that I now always have a means of making the buck, bringing home the bacon, etc, etc etc.  With that, the breath of fresh air is achieved and back I dive into the day's focus.  

In truth, I could not think of a more happier time spent, a life that I was meant for, not the normal daily grind of the rest of American society, due to my health conditions physical and mental that cause some delay in my productivity at times.  I do at times feel the backlash and judgment of the outside world, who see my work as little value because it nor I fit in with the assigned normalcy of career and employment.  This is increasingly becoming less of an occurrence due to this post-Covid-19 reality of which we find ourselves within, wherein many are having to hustle into the gig-worker life to continue to survive, or more hopefully, to thrive. 

However, I do still feel a bit of a pushback when a person employed by the established environ of normalcy has a day off and wants to 'go do something' or the times when I get a message or phone call requesting 'to come and play', a sense of frustration comes across when said individual hears me say, "Sorry, I'm busy," with the underlying 'what do you have going on, your schedule is flexible' theme.  

Yes, my schedule is flexible, but it is, as mentioned above, clearly structurally defined by myself for optimal successful thriving.  Furthermore, I have set aside the days of Saturday and Sunday as non-computer and other work time, in which I attend to the house chores, read, relax, and find time to play.  

I will allow the reality that I have a tendency towards rigidity in my life, a means from the past in order to give some sense of false security and thus something I am continuously striving to lessen the hold.  In addition, with one partner whose days off are currently Tuesday and Wednesday, I must allow sometime for us to truly connect and have scheduled date time for the health of our relationship.  The other partner's days' off are equal to mine.  Thus, living the polyamorous life as a gig-worker is even harder finding ways to balance time for work duty, relationship health commitments, as well as time to love the hell out of friends.

So, at last, what it comes down to, is that life is what one makes of it, one's path is one's to follow towards the highest fullfillment of wholeness of healing and evolution.

. 

What I choose to do
Is of no concern to you
And your friends

                                                                            My Life

Journaling Through The Years Episode 11: Change The Scene!

In Retrospect: 2019; Refining Fire Cleansing Towards Wholeness

 

I have often taken the time in recent entries to reflect on the changing tides of life, both personally and collectively, within the confines of 2020 and beyond.  However, we could not have had such without the years previous.  For me, the year that stood out as full of tumultous life change was that of 2019.

In numerology, the year 2019 adds up to 12, then ends up as a 3 and a 3 year is one that emphasizes creative self expression and emotional sensitivity.  In an article written at the beginning of 2019,(https://astrostyle.com/2019-numerology/) it states that the intention of the year was to 'speak one's truth' without lessening the truth of another.  For me personally, in retrospect, I see now how that 3 energy affected the external outcomes of my internal reality, long buried in need of overflowing outpouring, affecting my decisions that influenced my relationship and circumstance shifts.  I clearly see and understand now, but at the time the element of tumult was such a heavy influence that it left a degree of shaky unease, reflecting in a marked degree of secrecy and codependency.

In my former life of 'fundaze', aka fundamentalist Christianity, we were often taught about the refining fire of God's cleansing.  Truth be told, this is a point of teaching that is not singular to any branch of Christianity alone, but is taught within all variety of spirituality and life itself.  The basic premise being that in times of tumult, as in walking through our own 'fiery furnace', we are refined like silver, cleansed from the draught, that which we need to release, that which no longer serves, so that we can move forward unto our truest and most divine self, whole, complete, who we were always forever meant to be.

Looking back, it is easy to write poetically about such a time of my life.  A time when I had bravely stood up to friendships that were proving toxic for all involved, but mostly for me, and dealt with the backlash of anger, resentment, heartbreak, my own as well as the friends' and family departed.  My financial situation was in dangerous precarity due to ultimately my bad decision making, planning poorly executed, as well as lack of self worth within.  In addition, my beloved sonic lost its engine and power due to a bad mechanic job I did myself.  

Thus, like the fire of refinement, many aspects of my life that I had held as some sort of security blanket and normacly, were being stripped away.  Desperately I clung to that which was fading away, which had ceased to serve, but still I desired to remain, somewhat fearful of who I would be without, what was to come of me without.  

But, at last, I relented.  

Seemingly, left abandoned by those of which my love remains, feeling empty and desperate, I surrendered to the inevitable.  In that place of humility, I began anew, not clinging to the hope of an external savior, but discovering my innermost strength to merely not to survive, but to thrive beyond circumstance.  The cleansing fires allowed that which was toxic to dissipate and be vanquished, leaving my eyes clear with renewed vision of who and what truly matters, that had always been there, shining beacons of love, inspiration, and dedication, guiding me to persevere and truly discover my confidence and worthiness within.

With that, I stood back up, steadied myself on shaky feet, and continued forth the climb.  On that plane of my own destruction, I rose again like the phoenix, rebuilding my own life in a way more beautiful than ever imagined, that which is becoming clearer, more whole and healthy, more truly me.

Sunrise, Norah Jones

Sunrise, sunrise

Looks like mornin' in your eyes

But the clock's held 9:15 for hours

Sunrise, sunrise

Couldn't tempt us if it tried

'Cause the afternoon's already come and gone

Surprise, surprise

Couldn't find it in your eyes

But I'm sure it's written all over my face

Surprise, surprise

Never something I could hide

When I see we made it through another day

Old Farm House

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