tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76743267206640512042024-03-05T04:02:24.363-06:00The Real MeWhether You Like It Or Not
:)Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-10355538191299267782015-03-04T20:08:00.001-06:002015-03-04T20:08:39.103-06:00Well alrighty then...Today was better. Didn't eat myself into a state of unconsiousness so at least there's that. Processing resentments seems to be next on the roster. But doing all this recovery from eating disorder seems more difficult than it would be if I were not required to fulfill all these obligations ... Work... Driving... (Lots per day) etc and so forth. Rehab seems the most successful idea. But it's not gonna happen I don't think. Sigh. Can't wait to be over this shit. <div><br></div><div><br></div>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-61823771896812511132015-03-03T15:51:00.001-06:002015-03-03T15:53:27.309-06:00UghMy mind fucking hates me. <div>I mean holy shitballs... What HAPPENED to me?</div><div><br></div><div>That is all </div>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-18710384026874876072015-01-28T23:37:00.001-06:002015-01-28T23:37:09.932-06:00Sweet kitty<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ilt14xst7wW3pKnxCB026ejjthDcWARE24IQVLUbqWE-afyRLvKDwOOpG2n_GnIvabpdRrJnKeS-7t-S8-C4BmWsHfSl8PUHgRu_xgDi-_x2_nUYPBqT-kSht3rOTGXBnvq5QPFv844_/s640/blogger-image--1476061989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ilt14xst7wW3pKnxCB026ejjthDcWARE24IQVLUbqWE-afyRLvKDwOOpG2n_GnIvabpdRrJnKeS-7t-S8-C4BmWsHfSl8PUHgRu_xgDi-_x2_nUYPBqT-kSht3rOTGXBnvq5QPFv844_/s640/blogger-image--1476061989.jpg"></a></div>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-49339841007630737702014-01-24T23:08:00.000-06:002015-01-28T23:40:11.312-06:00HmmmWritten jan 2014<div>God, i can't believe i haven't written anything since 2011. is it shame? guilt? morbid reflection? fear of being exposed? Perhaps all of the above.<br>
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Life has changed so much for me. I've left my former life... husband, job, car, etc. to embrace a new life. One i find more fulfilling and embracing of who i am. I haven't quite relaxed into it yet. I still suffer from self loathing, hatred, and disgust, but soon i imagine i'll be comfortable in my own skin.<br>
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Until then, I am trying to find new ways to express my soul and shape my life, my person, into someone i love, respect, and am comfortable with. That's all I can say for now. The pain is still so fresh... the fear of breaking free and from the guilt i feel.. the pain of what i fear may be total selfishness on my part... why should i be happy when others suffer from my happiness? why should I deserve that? i know in my soul i do, but as a mother, as once a wife, i wonder, have i abandoned post? have i left men behind in the battle? Morbid guilt. Survivors guilt. The musings of my mind memories of cold stares and stale relations. the classic case of the death grip an abuser has on his victim. it is her fault, he says.. she is not worth the life wasted on her if not to serve the abuser...<br>
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moving forward, i hope to break from this imprinting... permanently.<br>
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<br></div>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-11751095148632818312011-10-09T22:54:00.000-05:002011-10-09T22:54:39.167-05:00Jeepers WallyWell shit people.. it's been a LONG long year. I'm really glad I've made it to where I am because you wouldn't believe the shit I've caused in my life over the past nine months. I'm really glad it all happened because here I am today, with clarity, and a new vision. Unbelievable though, left to our own devices, the kind of food fight we'll have in the lunch room. And now for the clean up....<br />
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The last post, I see I was still binge eating. And starting tomorrow.. I wrote.. well it was actually two months later to the day that I finally started doing something differently. I supplied a little willingness, and then God supplied the power. If you aren't fortunate enough to have a relationship with a higher power, I'm sorry for you. I mean that. Get one asap.. I think it's great when we get ourselves in the kind of trouble that brings us so far to our knees we have only to pray. THAT'S where the real power comes from.. those really dark corners in our lives.. the trenches we fear we'll never be lifted from. I've been to places in my mind where only suicide seemed an option. Not because I had the desire to kill myself, but because it seemed that unlikely to find a solution. But lo and behold.. when I was desperate enough.. scared enough.. terrified enough.. I became willing to try almost anything.. including some stuff I hadn't been willing to try before.. like some Christian scripture, going to church.. (although that isn't exclusively what I believe) I'm getting open minded.. I think it's strange how the 'tolerant' people of the world, the branch offs of the standard eventually become so intolerant themselves. I know. I was one of them, until I needed something to get me out of my hell.. and oddly.. I needed rules, plain and simple. a direction.. not gray, not murky, not vague, but definite. dogmatic even.. NOT middle of the road. I think the gray is for people much different than me. I take gray and I play with it until I'm living in an episode of Alice in Wonderland and nobody knows anymore WHAT the hell is up or down.<br />
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But all that's changed now. Thank you GOD. I love my life again for the first time in YEARS.<br />
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I have a friend who said in a meeting once that when nobody had to change anymore and nobody owed him an amends anymore, he knew he was in a good place spiritually. That's how I feel today. I see that it was always about me and my adjustment (or maladjustment to life) over the past couple of years, that has led me to this new realization. Another friend says that God will use your defects for his good. .. to bring you to a place where you have to rely on Him. I consider it an honor right now to have been brought to this place of love and humility so that I could know what I know now about what is good and not good because doing what isn't has SUCKED. I couldn't find happiness ANYWHERE, and then BAM.. there You were, when I started doing things differently.. I started taking Zoloft for anxiety, started working steps in both programs again, and started listening to that voice that would tell me what to say.. what not to say.. what to do.. how..<br />
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Thank you God for bringing me up out of that so that I could be of use to my family. Of use to You. And a testimony of Your love to others. <br />
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Yes folks, things CAN change. Don't give up yet. Whatever it is. There IS a way through it.Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-60552863889803645822011-01-23T21:24:00.000-06:002011-01-23T21:24:35.657-06:00Let this be the last time...Man this has been a shitty few months. I started binge eating again. I don't think I realized how bad I was before I got abstinent from food until I'd quit for 18 months and then started doing it again. Dear Lord. I can throw back 3-4 thousand calories at a time. Soooo bad for you.<br />
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So starting tomorrow, I have to resume my previous food plan. It's a good one. It works. What doesn't work is my mind, and I have to get back into my treatment plan so that I can get back abstinent.<br />
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I'm really super grateful though, because I didn't get back to 190 (150, but that's bad enough since I was 130 before). And I'm also grateful that I have a few people that aren't letting me go. They aren't running away or ignoring me. They're listening every time I tell them I'm sick of behaving like an addict and they're telling me every time exactly how to stop doing it.<br />
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So here I go... I'm leaving this blog and going to do some work so that I won't keep doing this to myself.<br />
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(and I'm sooo ready to stop thinking about food.)<br />
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Like I said in the header.. The Real Me.. (whether you like it or not.) I know.. it's not glamorous. :)Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-34996782720345984052010-09-05T01:00:00.001-05:002015-01-28T23:38:19.265-06:00Disaster CentralI usually don't write until things are pretty bad, or pretty good. Right now it's the first. Rough rough rough. <div><br></div><div>-wrote this in 2010... Nothing much has changed. Sigh</div>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-22961443765789089372010-07-04T23:54:00.001-05:002010-07-04T23:54:53.284-05:00Hello Again.. Mid 2010Holy shit it's been an eternity since I've written a thing. I don't just mean a journal either. My life, as of late, has been primarily action oriented. I watch my life go from a young rebellious artist, to a seasoned responsible left brainer. Sometimes I'm sure I appreciate the change.. other times I think, who IS this woman who has taken hostage my old high school new waver? I'm having children, and staying sober, and getting a dog, and trying to buy a house.. what is going ON? And here's one major difference. I've gone from isolating myself in my own little world of 'difference' and 'alienation', to trying to be a part of, and building history and being open and socializing with others. I can still appreciate the differences, but it was making me socially awkward.. and not in a good way. I was mostly pissed off and pissed on and out for blood. Now I'm just trying to make a living and stay sober, and be healthy, clean, and successful. And I've gotten to where it's simply too tiring to tell you what I can show you instead.<br />
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So I'm not writing anymore. I'm blogging, maybe, but not writing. <br />
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In a sense, that girl is dead. (or maybe just hibernating, I don't know.) There was that girl once. I moved people with my words and honest disclosures. She was very impassioned by love.. and by angst.. and all of them were great catalysts to wordplay and such.. but no more. :) It becomes very difficult to resurrect what one can not redirect the course of. (the past) Maybe someday I'll be brutally honest about all of that. Maybe it will be an old tired broken fucking record that everyone will finally feel has beaten the hell out of them and me. Maybe only years of therapy will neatly clean it all up..<br />
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In the meantime, I'm here. Plug -plugging away in my life. Working tirelessly for the benefit of my family, myself, and my fellow Americans. I'm becoming a suburbanite, of sorts. And by God, there's nothing wrong with that... I used to think there was, until I tried to do it.. and realized that this shit is not for the birds. It takes a lot of work to upkeep a life and raise children who aren't ax murderers. (which is actually the goal of today with my son who is just barely pre kindergarten.)<br />
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So anyhow.. that's the scoop. Not that anybody should or will give a flying eff about it. But here it is, nonetheless.<br />
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See you again soon. <br />
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Muah!Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-71571173734679220182010-04-26T10:47:00.001-05:002010-04-26T10:47:58.990-05:00Loving the Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbo8hMMQDeHQyFzr-YPmLsA5nwz7dkyfSsOc9lepMzGFKOZRs_ayr_trGuMKZ7F883XYEN3OypmhAELN8P9h1St2vSqDzFbs-HAtDjT8tPf1YQXDel0FjxnnVdpipPC0IGrOaWSV4ChKN/s1600/361Caden1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbo8hMMQDeHQyFzr-YPmLsA5nwz7dkyfSsOc9lepMzGFKOZRs_ayr_trGuMKZ7F883XYEN3OypmhAELN8P9h1St2vSqDzFbs-HAtDjT8tPf1YQXDel0FjxnnVdpipPC0IGrOaWSV4ChKN/s320/361Caden1.jpg" tt="true" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyQjcwSFqJaL5Nd_ShgSAFWTepOJ3B-VYzfjfLYBCEKsqnS4CCO4tj6ji0AzwTjPzdbwSYdUPhm_14Wc_Vn4n0KkCzZeqpz-crvIB4OxIjnfgNb6N888LEjjDYN9lzjLLco-w2XYvhDBF/s1600/331OutsideAmended2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyQjcwSFqJaL5Nd_ShgSAFWTepOJ3B-VYzfjfLYBCEKsqnS4CCO4tj6ji0AzwTjPzdbwSYdUPhm_14Wc_Vn4n0KkCzZeqpz-crvIB4OxIjnfgNb6N888LEjjDYN9lzjLLco-w2XYvhDBF/s320/331OutsideAmended2.jpg" tt="true" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhiPiF6HGIOQvuwBQqaQ5kDbou7WUKEiHl0L4W0wrDiXI0e6QKB_PpNWrPE-43NCiJSi0IoyIAL57KwHiuia2ckFrs9cijW3mvAdERVCpUo-TxjeK0NUWo7-Y4DLp2Qf_apwZgw0Mx4sF/s1600/002Windchime1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhiPiF6HGIOQvuwBQqaQ5kDbou7WUKEiHl0L4W0wrDiXI0e6QKB_PpNWrPE-43NCiJSi0IoyIAL57KwHiuia2ckFrs9cijW3mvAdERVCpUo-TxjeK0NUWo7-Y4DLp2Qf_apwZgw0Mx4sF/s320/002Windchime1.jpg" tt="true" /></a></div>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-22734050060715464082010-04-25T23:55:00.000-05:002010-04-25T23:55:43.133-05:00My Photography 04/24/2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf0MBQDQUm45ZA13x2QKQjWuVc1UHZKMkn-BrfAycDillv12XgTpExLYLLnKZSVvCDCjdEn0ZMouU_brJZT2RuxPCrhQWKS6iLLhv36gvNz5-27weRCWDZyfXnuzAodKrDJG1B2Z2E3RbB/s1600/25811_384550049406_603869406_3663663_5039089_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf0MBQDQUm45ZA13x2QKQjWuVc1UHZKMkn-BrfAycDillv12XgTpExLYLLnKZSVvCDCjdEn0ZMouU_brJZT2RuxPCrhQWKS6iLLhv36gvNz5-27weRCWDZyfXnuzAodKrDJG1B2Z2E3RbB/s320/25811_384550049406_603869406_3663663_5039089_n.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7si-V0DJA1KSdoRs_oDXEsxYnMIU-Z0g0M15efWavRxKhazGlTdsp_hToIkVz_VXYHEHdJnW8azWo1xurYDhj2w6Qk3gBQrEHki9CZTPQr8agUr6k6ppyTR7ObhPU6yKwqBy97fKakd6/s1600/25811_384550054406_603869406_3663664_6555356_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7si-V0DJA1KSdoRs_oDXEsxYnMIU-Z0g0M15efWavRxKhazGlTdsp_hToIkVz_VXYHEHdJnW8azWo1xurYDhj2w6Qk3gBQrEHki9CZTPQr8agUr6k6ppyTR7ObhPU6yKwqBy97fKakd6/s320/25811_384550054406_603869406_3663664_6555356_n.jpg" /></a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUQK9HXtyXUsloLAJRSTJXiBV9crOxgan9mMBmyRTpxIsOhpGajfFG0DYXH-2kDOeY2TvUzE5Gr8Q1lzc346pBtfHVUSU4Zx_x1EsqEg1zu_NBlC2Klu7Q3K1kRFbt30o4pchlZgCki2q/s320/25811_384550059406_603869406_3663665_5575661_n.jpg" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihE8CyQM5_ooUM35rVe-dfvAK0UW_mxJpbHPLtw_YYfzh8n83sHX8Jm8bI3wuJSl86Cpwzm-i3HNkBrcmhkKDFcPQCi8-6K9Te5l1N1WRC6bBTx6N3MWTg6Q105RE7Rz-uGQGRnHavTajM/s1600/25811_384556274406_603869406_3663913_5463879_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihE8CyQM5_ooUM35rVe-dfvAK0UW_mxJpbHPLtw_YYfzh8n83sHX8Jm8bI3wuJSl86Cpwzm-i3HNkBrcmhkKDFcPQCi8-6K9Te5l1N1WRC6bBTx6N3MWTg6Q105RE7Rz-uGQGRnHavTajM/s320/25811_384556274406_603869406_3663913_5463879_n.jpg" /></a></div>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-12502663239892952362010-04-25T23:52:00.000-05:002010-04-25T23:58:25.916-05:00My Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thanks to my son for being such a good sport through all the photos. More to come.</div>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-70200382098994793382010-04-12T14:40:00.000-05:002010-04-12T14:40:04.067-05:00What Motherhood Means to MeNearly five years ago, quite unexpectedly, in a bathroom of an unbecoming apartment, in a town of even less appeal, the little stick just barely removed from that thin yellow stream showed a tiny pink plus sign. I thought my life was over. In horror I sat on that toilet, weighing out my options. I can't remember how I told my then boyfriend (now husband), whether I walked slowly and nauseously toward him, or whether I ran out to him in a panic, but I do know that I wasn’t happy. <br />
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11 years before the first time, and 10 years before the second, I had given birth to two children. I was full of life in those days… but completely naïve to the responsibilities of parenting children. I was 17 when my first parenting expedition began. I loved those children more than life but had no idea how to care for them. Neglect and addiction ripped them from my arms. In the wake of my lack of love for myself and my underestimation of the necessary job skills, I had no real love, as an action, to give those children. I committed the most loving action I could, and that was to give them up. Years later that choice would haunt me, and although right at the time, the child that was soon to be born, 11 years later, would both heal that choice, and still further the pain of what those children had stolen from them. I did the best I could do then.. but more importantly, will live a lifestyle of greater worth today, being available should they ever embark toward the passage through my door again.<br />
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Life after the adoptions grew increasingly worse. Addiction took its toll on me and I lunged head first toward the concrete wall of self induced disease. I was lost. Rehabs, hospitals, night clubs, and many more endings than beginnings promised that death would be my conclusion. That was until I found Alcoholics Anonymous. <br />
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When the small plastic stick proved pregnancy, I had two years sober. I was no more ready to have a child than I was to be the CEO of Microsoft. But something told me this was ‘it’ for me. This was my chance. I was standing at the crossroads of my life, asking myself ‘if not now, then when?’. There were no more drugs or fruitless encounters with men. There was far less evidence of self destruction. There was alas a man who although nowhere near perfect, was the kind of man that women don’t run from, they run towards. There were no more excuses. Another abortion would mean a conscious choice to never heal from the painful memories of my past, but rather the creation of another. I might never forgive myself for giving away the most precious and important people in my life. I would repeat my patterns and what would that mean that I had really learned from all of this? Not much.<br />
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I knew what I must do. I must do it for the unborn child. I must do it for the man in my life. I must do it for the healing. I must do it for myself. . that I might know what it is to see a life –a person through to fruition. When I took the narrow, unforeseeable path that led from the crossroad, I did not know what lay ahead. I was terrified, resentful, sickened, and sad. My life had unexpectedly fast forwarded. Once this decision was made, I insisted I not turn back, repeating my past mistakes. I did not have to like it; I just had to do it anyway.<br />
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At 28 years old, the body is not nearly as equipped to handle the weight of an unborn child, while holding down a full time job (newly begun), and maintaining a relationship that was not yet matured to begin with, but somehow it made it through. I did everything wrong. I did everything out of order. I have NO idea how it worked; but it did.<br />
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My biggest fear was indifference. Would I feel the same fear in the hospital bed, pushing this newly born life from my body and into the scary world? Would I want it? How would I live with myself if he could see my selfishness? How could I ever make him feel worthy and loved if I was unable to love?<br />
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My fears were easily vanquished the moment I heard his first cry. I was so sad for him. They placed him quickly on my chest, rushing my husband to cut cord attaching the newborn’s body to mine. And then I held that child like no one had ever been held. My indifference disappeared with a vengeance. They wiped my child clean, diapered and bathed him, and wrapped him in a warm blanket putting that tiny little stripped hat on his head and then handed him to me. I was ecstatic! I put up the guard rails on my hospital bed and he laid beside me for three days straight. They kept taking him from me and putting him in his bed.. explaining that he could fall. I held him so close to me and I took up so little room just so that he would not. I fell more deeply in love than ever before. .. and I’ve stayed in love ever since.<br />
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Nearly five years later, I am a fully employed, married mother. To look at me, you’d never know the story that began this voyage, and that’s how I know I have changed.<br />
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My son is the highlight of my life. He is furthering the end of my selfishness. He is proof of what can happen in a life when dedication and commitment meet love and insistence to tolerate less from oneself and expect more. He is the pushing of the envelope. The last rep in an exhausting workout you thought you could never muster the courage to start. There will be no more pussy footing around. Regardless of bleeding feet, I keep walking on the glass to keep proving my love, to keep trudging the road toward loving parenting. <br />
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There are many more years ahead of us, I pray. I’m not the perfect parent I hoped to be. Children have a way of knowing just the right thing to say and to drive you to insanity. They climb on the furniture, jump off of the dressers, smear food on the television, the coach, the chairs. They color on the walls, leave hardened hotdogs under the rugs, pee on the sheets, their bed, your bed. They forget to wipe. They refuse to eat almost anything. They know exactly how to find your most sentimental possessions and squash them to smithereens. And all those things you loved so much mean less and less when you realize that you would rather see your child laughing at you for freaking out than for you to keep that stuff anyway. And then there are the smiles.. the funny faces, the poses in pictures that only he loves, the potty training by way of peeing on the Cheerio, the tiny hands hanging up his own clothes for the first time and handing it to you with those big happy eyes saying ‘Look Mommy! Look what I did!’. I couldn’t be happier to have had him.<br />
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Yesterday I cleaned out my car. I always promised myself I would never be the kind of mom whose car smelled like McDonalds. Well.. I was wrong… and that’s just fine with me. There were drawings, paintings, glued on candy in the cup holder of his car seat, unidentifiable somethings smeared all over the carpet. .. and most of this within a week of the last time I cleaned it out. There’s just no keeping up with it! (or the housework either!). and who cares about all of that anyway. We’ve got so few years we have to wait for domestic spotlessness; we trade in the fine white furniture for a life of giving to a growing child. And which would we rather have anyway, when it’s all weighed out? I’ll take my wonderful son. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make with my arms fully outstretched.<br />
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In truth, I don’t believe my life would hold nearly the value it does today without him. I work harder than I would. I stay stronger. I give up less and less on life. I find more joy. I push myself to go on when I want to sink into depression. I make better decisions. I give more than I ever have. <br />
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In short, I want to thank him. So.. thank you son, for changing my life completely. I would give you anything if it meant you would be happier. . more free.. more in love with life. You name it and it’s yours.<br />
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One word that describes what motherhood means to me? It means love.<br />
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-Astra Allen 04/12/2010Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-70151936230870210552010-03-11T22:38:00.000-06:002010-03-11T22:38:15.444-06:00Oh my God.. must haves.Holy shit.. I must own these..<br />
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<a href="http://www.neimanmarcus.com/store/catalog/prod.jhtml?itemId=prod98590038&parentId=cat18060739&masterId=cat16130746&index=6&cmCat=cat000000cat000553cat17640731cat16130746cat18060739">Neiman Marcus Bathroom.</a>Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7674326720664051204.post-40109330753335363812010-03-03T15:59:00.000-06:002010-03-03T15:59:39.267-06:00Introducing MyselfBecause of the nature of what I do.. art, photography and such, there seems to be no way around posting almost an entire page of nothing but art, if I were to post everything I've done.. so I'll only pick my personal favorites.. things that have personal value or show technical skill, for you to view. Hopefully, that will introduce myself, and allow for the remaining blog to show only new art, and permit writing nonsense.<br />
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I'd like to state for the record, that I have a difficult time with blogs because I live a unique life and try to avoid contempt or misunderstanding of who I am. I am not religious, nor do I feel as if I need to sober up the world. Nor do I feel as if I say anything for anyone who isn't willing to listen.. nor do I think I need to change everyone.. and nor am I judging. That being said.. let me explain the basics of 'me'.<br />
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1. First and foremost, I am an alcoholic in recovery. I am not judging those of you who drink, do drugs, or any other choice you may make. Not only is that against whatever ethical beliefs are produced by my program, your sobriety is only important to me if you are asking me for help. Otherwise, there's nothing I could do, even if I wanted to.<br />
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2. If I talk about 'God'.. what I really mean is my personal concept of a higher power. .. which is nature, depth, tao, different levels of consiousness, experience, ethical values, metaphysics. I only describe these things (that are oh so personal) to allow for everyone to understand that I am not necessarily referring to whatever God you have personally disavowed. I can not filter myself entirely and at the same time still present myself in an honest way. Hence the reason I've avoided blogs.<br />
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3. If I bitch about my life, it does not mean that I am not happy, that I don't appreciate what I have, or that I am an 'unspiritual' person. Sometimes I just need to vent.. or gain some helpful advise.<br />
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With that, (and I may think of more later). I am glad to be here.Astra Allen Arthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14761321114635237619noreply@blogger.com2