Those weirdoes are your tribe

Seen on Facebook – credit to Butterflies and Pebbles – I like her and I think she’s worth checking out.

S.C Lourie. Author. Poet. Artist. Dancer. Voice for some.

Hopefully. Mummy to her Butterfly and her Pebbles. & I make prints now 🙂 Get in touch.

12115922_1323647034406893_2256551027304119659_n

the tulsa looney bin presents: Laughter With The Ladies

Join me and my friends this Wednesday night, October 28th at 7:30 pm for loads of fun and laughs. Tickets are $5 in advance or $10 at the door. Hope to see you there.

FB_IMG_1444991686364

I won’t get mad to your face, but I will crucify you in the shower- so there!

I’m fake.

Not all the time.

Just some of the time.

Mostly, I’m fake about my anger.

If you’ve ever seen those flashbacks on TV or the movies where someone flashes a mental picture of them hurling said irritant out the window and then you come back and see calm composure – that would be me. When I’m mad my insides explode and my outside get’s calmer. Dead almost. Or I just get a goofy ass grin and go blonde. Either way.

There is a part of me that truly envies women who can express anger openly. I wasn’t raised to do that, so for me it is very foreign.

Truth is, I have a horrific temper, I just don’t allow myself to express it, even in healthy ways like saying “I’m really angry right now, let me cool off and get back to you.” — I never get back. Most of the time, I rarely even let on that I’m mad.

I actually fired someone years ago over anger/hurt feelings and they have no idea I fired them.

I can still remember the trigger and the rage. I wasn’t just mad by what happened, I was deeply hurt and I wanted to inflict bodily harm. I wanted to create a scene. I remember visualizing bodily harm and a multitude of cuss words, throwing things (I cannot tell you how badly I wanted to throw something at that man’s head) and in your face so theres.

I didn’t do any of that. I left with a goofy smile and see you tomorrow, and I just never came back.

Well that’s partly true anyway. Once i cooled off I went back to talk, but they weren’t available, and they stayed unavailable. Guess they have the same issues.. avoidance. It’s just as well really – if I can’t be honest, maybe we shouldn’t be doing business together. Or be friends.

The kind of anger that is triggered during those moments usually involve personal shame, history and fear and I really do want to lash out with emotional violence. Not doing that is healthy, not addressing that at all however, is not.

To this day this man has NO idea how deeply hurt I was by his words – or by the fact he had someone on speaker phone when he said them and I knew it. I just avoid his area of business and his circles.

I live in a small town ya’ll. Reckoning day will eventually arrive. Not just for that relationship, but the countless others in my past that have fallen by the way side because of unresolved and unaddressed feelings. Anger or otherwise.

I’m not alone either.

I once polled my Facebook tribe and asked “What would you do if fear was not an issue.” I got the typical responses like skydiving, comedy, write a book, but then one response stood out.

“I’d give myself permission to express my anger.”

WOW.

That came from someone I admire a whole lot and it hit me square between the eyes.

I’m not alone.

I’m not the only person who plays dumb in the face of anger because I’m afraid. 

Anger is one emotion I’m very familiar with but really struggle with expressing. I’d rather stuff it, deal with it in private (my shower or journal) and leave you out of it than risk vulnerability, embarrassment, physical harm, shame or worse – abandonment. I never had permission to express anger growing up or as an adult with some extended family members.  It was always a get over it or leave kind of environment. Avoidance is the motto and key to getting along. Stuff it and smile.

Or how did Miranda put it? Oh yeah, “Hide your crazy and start acting like a lady.”

I’ve only met a few men (or women for that matter) in my life that I trust enough to go toe to toe with. One of them happened to be on our church plant team years ago – oh man it was awesome. There was no fear of abandonment, physical harm or shame. He knew how to fight and I enjoyed the freedom of being able to do that with him. Neither of us took offense, and neither of us liked to lose which was a problem. So we dropped the ball.

It wasn’t a healthy expression of anger, but it was refreshing to know that I can express my personal anger full on and be taken seriously, not have it held against me, and move on. Somewhere in all of this is balance.

Wish I had an “in conclusion” to give here – with some great sage words of wisdom about speaker/listener technique or “I feel statements” but I really don’t right now. Yes, all of that is good, but when I’m blindsided by anger I still struggle. Maybe for me a good baby step is learning words like “ouch” and “I don’t know how to take that.” and start from there.

Have a great day peeps.

Don’t forget to breathe.

The Best Moments sometimes came too late.

I love my mother, heart and soul.

She was an alcoholic who left recovery after ten years of sobriety to return home and do it on her own. That was the biggest mistake she ever made in my opinion.She never took another drink, but I wouldn’t call what she lived, sobriety. 

Mom suffered from severe depression on and off for most of her life. This blog post is not intended to tarnish her memory. Nor is it intended to trash AA, it’s a wonderful program. Mom was an amazing women. A force to behold most days.

She is my beloved. The bravest women I know.  

I will always be thankful for her.

I spent three months with her before she passed and  as crazy hard as those days were, I am eternally grateful for that time.

Nothing was left unsaid.

Our last words to each other were “I love you.” and “I love you too.”

I have peace knowing that my mother loved me and knowing that she knew she was forgiven by me and that I loved her as well. Not many people have that. What a gift.

Mom was laid to rest on August 22, 2015 after a long 15 year battle with COPD and severe depression and anxiety.

May she finally be at peace.

I grieved for three years as she died piece by piece. And I grieve now, not so much always for what we had, but for what we missed.

When she was happy she was a screaming riot, full of life and humor. Manic almost in her pursuit of joy, gardening and art. She would work around the clock creating beauty. I loved those moments as a child, even if I couldn’t keep up. Those were the best moments really. Baking cookies in the middle of the night. Painting ornaments. Creating jelly. Mom on a manic was fun, if not exhausting.

In those moments she was wildly creative and wildly beautiful. 

But when she wasn’t happy, she was a force to be reckoned with, a storm with no warning and no chance of surviving. She was brutal, cutting, and fierce to anyone and every one.

She was, in those moments, my greatest source of pain. 

There was a lot of anger in her depression and those closest to her were her best targets; a sister, a daughter, a niece, a nephew, a friend, it really didn’t matter. She became cold, uncaring almost. Her body would clench up and her eyes would fill with tears as she spoke of those who had inflicted wounds in her life.

Were they real or perceived?

I’ll never know.

It was too much to bear really.

For me anyway.

The suicide attempts or threats.

The lies.

The threats of abandonment.

The manipulation.

The tears.

The anger.

There were countless times I’d speak to her on the phone or visit during one of her “moods” and I’d wind up in the hospital or back in therapy sifting for the truth.

One time, my doctor told me to either have her committed or walk away to save my own life.

I was willing to do neither and chose rather to weather the storm, come what may and find a way to love her in a way that she could recognize. I eventually did towards the end and I have no regrets.

Someone in AA told her that she could not take meds and be “sober.” They said Bipolar disorder was a “lie and an excuse.”

What a load of BS. AA itself does not have opinions on outside issues, but people do and she listened to the wrong ones.

That little pill would have changed both of our worlds for the better, but she wouldn’t take it because AA told her not to.

So who do I be mad at?

A 12 step program that saved my life and sanity through Alanon? That’s not fair.

Should I be mad at her? After all it was her choice not to take meds.

God?

The doctors who didn’t tell her the truth?

No one I guess.

I can’t afford it.

If I spend my days finding someone to be mad at, I’ll never heal.

I’ll spend my life like she did.

A victim.

Alone.

Afraid.

Angry.

Keeping score.

She’s at peace now.

It’s time for me to be the same.

Breathe Darlin’. It’s going to be okay. And if it’s not okay – hold my hand. Let’s walk this together. 

Let There Be Cowgirls

THIS is my idea of a good time.

I broke my right leg two years ago this week just walking on a beach. I required two surgeries to straighten my tibia and was laid up for over 16 months. Even after that, doc said no riding for a year. Well guess what — the year is up! I’m clear to ride again. Hang on y’all. It’s going to be fun!

And to be clear, no that is not me in the video. I just like the video. And the song.

Some days I wish for good aim

I do try to be honest with you guys. As much as I’d like to say I have I have it all together, I don’t always. Yesterday was such a day. Yesterday, I wanted to yell and scream and throw things. I didn’t. But I wanted to.

And yet I know, His mercies are new each morning. Praying for a better today.

Have you ever had one of those days when you wished “good aim” was a fruit of the spirit?

fruit of the spirit - aim