All of me
Why not take all of me
Can't you see
That I'm no good without you
Take my arms I want to loose them
Take my lips I'll never use them
Your goodbye Left me with eyes that cry
And I know that I Am no good without you
You took the part
That once was my heart
So why not take all of me
Take my lips I'll never use them
Your goodbye Left me with eyes that cry
And I know that I Am no good without you
You took the part
That once was my heart
So why not take all of me
I was playing the Stardust/Willy Nelson CD in the car and this kind of got stuck in my head.
Such pretty music, always loved that CD. The LP came along at a time in my life when I was falling hard for a friend of mine, after my divorce, my three years back in Holland, and my sojourn into Siddha Yoga.
It was a rather short but furious relationship which included two moves to Minnesota.
With, which I was certain, the man of my dreams for the rest of my life.
He was in the midst of quitting his job with Banana Records in SFO and wanted to move back home to Minnesota. (Yes, we are a incestuous bunch in the record business *lol*)
We decided to go together.
I was pregnant.
Excited about the future.
We drove.
TV in the back seat. (He was afraid the movers would break it)
Stayed in dinky motels along the way to stretch our dollars.
Morning sickness all day long.
Could only eat white toast and scrambled eggs and drink hot tea.
But still an adventure, well, it was for me.
Made it in three days, and I only drove about ten miles of that, after my friend found me driving 80 miles an hour, singing along with Abba at the top of my lungs. :>) Scared him silly, and he drove the rest of the way. The big sissy.
Unfortunately, we came to Minneapolis in March, when the winter was still going on, when everything was so darn drab and gray. We moved in with his brother's family, their two boys, one baby girl and two standard poodles. (the layers of dog doo to be picked up everyday when another layer of snow melted)
I didn't last long.
I was cold, they kept the thermostat at 68 ° ALL the time, I was sick, I missed my little boy, whom I left behind with his pappa in California for the time being. We weren't able to find jobs right away and it became clear that I wasn't supposed to be there, not at that point in time.
So I came back to California. Nothing but the clothes on my back. My furniture and other belongings had just arrived and were stored at my friend's brother's front porch.
Lucky for me Puri took me back in and helped me out. I stayed at an annex across the street from the Siddha Yoga Ashram in Oakland. In a room with four bunk beds and one chair, a communal kitchen, and many quiet and lovely people around me.
Just licking my wounds, but glad to be around my son again and being enveloped in the fold of the wonderful Ashram culture.
A few weeks into my stay there, I miscarried. I was 16 weeks along at the time.
I just started bleeding one day, went to the hospital. I had no job, no income, no insurance.
When I arrived at the hospital late at night the nurses were about to go on strike. After having been seen by the emergency doctor, and given a 'pit drip' (I thought they said pit GRIP and scared me silly) (pitocin), it was decided to send me to another hospital on the hill, St. Joseph's. In the ambulance I went, together with another woman in labor.
At St. Joes they rolled me straight to the operating room and performed a therapeutic abortion.
The pathologist could not tell me why this baby did not want to be born, it was just one of those things.
It was a little boy.
I am convinced that my being in the Ashram, so very close to Baba Muktananda, who happened to be there on his second world tour, was the catalist for my miscarriage.
This pregnancy was just not meant to be. The shakti/energy was not allowing this to happen at this time in my life. God just telling me: " nuh-uh, nope, not gonna happen, lady."
Everything went remarkably smooth though. Even through the hassle with the hospital strike, the pain, the bumpy ambulance ride, the shock of hearing I had a therapeutic abortion (for some reason the nurse refused to call it a miscarriage, I guess she wanted to be politically correct or something) things miraculously worked out.
I qualified for Medical, which paid every last penny of the bills. My health was good afterwards.
It was so very clearly meant to BE.
Still I suffered from some sort of post traumatic stuff. Might have just been my hormones rearranging themselves, but I was extremely sad, had long sobbing fits, felt so terribly blue, and such a deep loss.
My Minnesota friend, the baby's father, must have been relieved. He didn't communicate with me, didn't offer any support.
It didn't even phase him that he could have had a son, something he really always wanted.
So life went on. I was rehired by a former employer. A good friend who would take me back more than once. I moved to a small apartment in Millbrae, near my job in Burlingame.
And wouldn't you know, a few months went by and one day, out of the blue, my Minnesota friend stood next to my car in the parking lot of my office. He was in town to settle some business with his ex wife. We ended up spending the night, and he went back home the next day.
We started writing each other again, and (I know, you guessed it) I moved back to Minnesota again.
He now had his own place and a job. So I packed up my son (my stuff was still there) and got on that plane.
Life in the small town we lived in was pretty darn nice. I got a job with a local newspaper, started to make friends, took a calligraphy class and started designing letterheads and invitations. We lived a stone's throw from the big lake, which froze over during the winter. We walked into town to go see a movie, or have dinner, or have ice cream. The streets were lined with ancient oaks, the houses old and comfortable looking.
We made it last through the winter, watched the USA hockey team become number ONE at the Winter Olympics, but when spring came, with it's glorious lilacs everywhere, the relationship busted again.
Back I went to California. This time I SOLD my belongings, my furniture, to pay for our trip back home.
Heart broken and broke, I spent the next few weeks at a friends' house while she was on vacation. Started smoking like a chimney.
(Mommie, don't smoke...you're gonna DIEEeeeeee)
It was time for my son, who was now 7 to start school. I opted to have him looked after during the week and attend a decent school by my aunts and uncle (yes, them again) who retired from the restaurant and motel business and now lived in Petaluma.
During the week I lived in the Ashram and worked my job in Oakland. My old boss once again gave me back my job. His office now located in a really cool old building downtown. On Friday night I would take the hour and a half drive to Petaluma to spend the weekend there. It was a crazy commute. I don't particularly recall feeling bad physically at that point, but I was extremely thin, back to 100 pounds again. Probably from the stress and from the vegetarian diet at the Ashram.
Looking at pictures from those days I looked like death warmed over.
During that time my uncle had suffered his first heart attack and the energy at that household was incredibly tense. Again I needed to get out of there.
As luck would have it, I found an apartment near my job in Oakland, and my son and I moved into a very nice house. It was a rough neighborhood, but it was an old neighborhood, mostly old folks who had been there all their lives.
We were back on the right track again....
My parents happened to be visiting at the time, and it was nice to have them around during the move, the transition.
And that's where that part of my life ended....figuratively speaking....
and my life with Wheelie began....
But that's a story for another day...
Wow, I started writing with NO concept of what would come out of my fingers...and lookatthis!
Boo-Boo has been taking her nap for about an hour now.
She has a cold, seems to be doing better than yesterday, when I ended up having to hold her until mommie came home, at midnight.
I bought this beautiful large flower basket, lobelia, some tiny red and yellow calibrachoa. I felt the urge to splurge. :>)
It's warm out there, so wonderful!
SGMKJ!
Such pretty music, always loved that CD. The LP came along at a time in my life when I was falling hard for a friend of mine, after my divorce, my three years back in Holland, and my sojourn into Siddha Yoga.
It was a rather short but furious relationship which included two moves to Minnesota.
With, which I was certain, the man of my dreams for the rest of my life.
He was in the midst of quitting his job with Banana Records in SFO and wanted to move back home to Minnesota. (Yes, we are a incestuous bunch in the record business *lol*)
We decided to go together.
I was pregnant.
Excited about the future.
We drove.
TV in the back seat. (He was afraid the movers would break it)
Stayed in dinky motels along the way to stretch our dollars.
Morning sickness all day long.
Could only eat white toast and scrambled eggs and drink hot tea.
But still an adventure, well, it was for me.
Made it in three days, and I only drove about ten miles of that, after my friend found me driving 80 miles an hour, singing along with Abba at the top of my lungs. :>) Scared him silly, and he drove the rest of the way. The big sissy.
Unfortunately, we came to Minneapolis in March, when the winter was still going on, when everything was so darn drab and gray. We moved in with his brother's family, their two boys, one baby girl and two standard poodles. (the layers of dog doo to be picked up everyday when another layer of snow melted)
I didn't last long.
I was cold, they kept the thermostat at 68 ° ALL the time, I was sick, I missed my little boy, whom I left behind with his pappa in California for the time being. We weren't able to find jobs right away and it became clear that I wasn't supposed to be there, not at that point in time.
So I came back to California. Nothing but the clothes on my back. My furniture and other belongings had just arrived and were stored at my friend's brother's front porch.
Lucky for me Puri took me back in and helped me out. I stayed at an annex across the street from the Siddha Yoga Ashram in Oakland. In a room with four bunk beds and one chair, a communal kitchen, and many quiet and lovely people around me.
Just licking my wounds, but glad to be around my son again and being enveloped in the fold of the wonderful Ashram culture.
A few weeks into my stay there, I miscarried. I was 16 weeks along at the time.
I just started bleeding one day, went to the hospital. I had no job, no income, no insurance.
When I arrived at the hospital late at night the nurses were about to go on strike. After having been seen by the emergency doctor, and given a 'pit drip' (I thought they said pit GRIP and scared me silly) (pitocin), it was decided to send me to another hospital on the hill, St. Joseph's. In the ambulance I went, together with another woman in labor.
At St. Joes they rolled me straight to the operating room and performed a therapeutic abortion.
The pathologist could not tell me why this baby did not want to be born, it was just one of those things.
It was a little boy.
I am convinced that my being in the Ashram, so very close to Baba Muktananda, who happened to be there on his second world tour, was the catalist for my miscarriage.
This pregnancy was just not meant to be. The shakti/energy was not allowing this to happen at this time in my life. God just telling me: " nuh-uh, nope, not gonna happen, lady."
Everything went remarkably smooth though. Even through the hassle with the hospital strike, the pain, the bumpy ambulance ride, the shock of hearing I had a therapeutic abortion (for some reason the nurse refused to call it a miscarriage, I guess she wanted to be politically correct or something) things miraculously worked out.
I qualified for Medical, which paid every last penny of the bills. My health was good afterwards.
It was so very clearly meant to BE.
Still I suffered from some sort of post traumatic stuff. Might have just been my hormones rearranging themselves, but I was extremely sad, had long sobbing fits, felt so terribly blue, and such a deep loss.
My Minnesota friend, the baby's father, must have been relieved. He didn't communicate with me, didn't offer any support.
It didn't even phase him that he could have had a son, something he really always wanted.
So life went on. I was rehired by a former employer. A good friend who would take me back more than once. I moved to a small apartment in Millbrae, near my job in Burlingame.
And wouldn't you know, a few months went by and one day, out of the blue, my Minnesota friend stood next to my car in the parking lot of my office. He was in town to settle some business with his ex wife. We ended up spending the night, and he went back home the next day.
We started writing each other again, and (I know, you guessed it) I moved back to Minnesota again.
He now had his own place and a job. So I packed up my son (my stuff was still there) and got on that plane.
Life in the small town we lived in was pretty darn nice. I got a job with a local newspaper, started to make friends, took a calligraphy class and started designing letterheads and invitations. We lived a stone's throw from the big lake, which froze over during the winter. We walked into town to go see a movie, or have dinner, or have ice cream. The streets were lined with ancient oaks, the houses old and comfortable looking.
We made it last through the winter, watched the USA hockey team become number ONE at the Winter Olympics, but when spring came, with it's glorious lilacs everywhere, the relationship busted again.
Back I went to California. This time I SOLD my belongings, my furniture, to pay for our trip back home.
Heart broken and broke, I spent the next few weeks at a friends' house while she was on vacation. Started smoking like a chimney.
(Mommie, don't smoke...you're gonna DIEEeeeeee)
It was time for my son, who was now 7 to start school. I opted to have him looked after during the week and attend a decent school by my aunts and uncle (yes, them again) who retired from the restaurant and motel business and now lived in Petaluma.
During the week I lived in the Ashram and worked my job in Oakland. My old boss once again gave me back my job. His office now located in a really cool old building downtown. On Friday night I would take the hour and a half drive to Petaluma to spend the weekend there. It was a crazy commute. I don't particularly recall feeling bad physically at that point, but I was extremely thin, back to 100 pounds again. Probably from the stress and from the vegetarian diet at the Ashram.
Looking at pictures from those days I looked like death warmed over.
During that time my uncle had suffered his first heart attack and the energy at that household was incredibly tense. Again I needed to get out of there.
As luck would have it, I found an apartment near my job in Oakland, and my son and I moved into a very nice house. It was a rough neighborhood, but it was an old neighborhood, mostly old folks who had been there all their lives.
We were back on the right track again....
My parents happened to be visiting at the time, and it was nice to have them around during the move, the transition.
And that's where that part of my life ended....figuratively speaking....
and my life with Wheelie began....
But that's a story for another day...
Wow, I started writing with NO concept of what would come out of my fingers...and lookatthis!
Boo-Boo has been taking her nap for about an hour now.
She has a cold, seems to be doing better than yesterday, when I ended up having to hold her until mommie came home, at midnight.
I bought this beautiful large flower basket, lobelia, some tiny red and yellow calibrachoa. I felt the urge to splurge. :>)
It's warm out there, so wonderful!
SGMKJ!
1 comment:
I have always known that you are a remarkable woman...but to what depth, I didn't realize. Todays writings left me with tears. It seems as if "it is what it is" happens alot in our lives...and what is to be...IS. ((((hugs))))
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