Let Me Go On and On!

As If It Were Yesterday

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 07:52:01 PDT

It’s amazing how time flies up into a whirlwind of ‘remember whens’. There are so many ‘it feels like yesterday’ moments and times you’ve had where you’ve completely forgotten it, leaving you with thoughts and memories that haven’t been tapped into for some time. It’s odd to trek into the archive files of your mind to discover things that seem new when they are actually deep within the past. This morning at around 6am, Madelene and I were snuggling in our bed listening to the rainstorm, wishing it was Sunday morning. We started reminiscing...

Mornings like these remind us of waking up in Montauk, listening to the waves crash besides the beach house. The entire ground rumbled as each wave made its way onto shore. It was like the ocean’s heartbeat. I remember the first time I had brought my parents over to the house for a vacation. They hadn’t been on a vacation for over 15 years. It was time. To see the look on my father’s face when we arrived to the house was one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. He hardly said two words. He just stood out on the deck and stared out at the ocean, which was almost crashing right beneath him. He couldn’t get over how close the ocean was. “Ya gotta be kiddin' me! We’re right on da' ocean!” He kept saying over and over. A man who has taken care of a five women household - I thought it was time to treat him back. On the other hand, my mother shuffled her way inside the house and started making one of her antipasto salads while asking for a martini on the rocks. I don’t even think she blinked at the ocean once, until her cigarette break- but that’s ok, we thought it was cute.

5am would roll around and my mom would get up like clockwork to make percolated coffee. She’d stand there like a slave waiting for the boil to hit the glass nozzle. “Ma whaddya’ doing up so early? You do know there is a coffee maker over there, don’t you?” She had brought her own “Alice Kramdem” percolators and no one could say a word about it. It’s how she rolled. 6am, my father and I would head out to the shore to go fishing. He brought his little fishing kit and started to teach me the proper way to cast out a line. Funny thing is, I had never gone fishing with my father until I was 30 years old. I felt like a kid being taught how to fish. We never caught anything, but we sat out there talking about his days on the fishing boats when he worked over at the South Street Seaport in Manhattan, among other sidetracked tales of his past. (My sisters will nod while reading this.)

Watching both my parents walk down the stairs with little foldout beach chairs to watch the ocean was so cute. They’d sit there for hours like two newlyweds. Madelene and I would head out and give them their time together watching the beautiful views and enjoying much needed time alone. We’d come back and see their two silhouettes sitting together on the beach, hand in hand talking nonstop. To tell you the truth, although I know my parents love each other like crazy, I’ve never seen them so romantic as they were on this trip. I’ll never forget it.

Both, my mom and dad are big smokers. I can actually say that they are chain smokers. One after the other after the other, and so on. I had arranged for them to stay in the master bedroom. It had a huge room with their own bathroom. They even had a door leading to the back patio and barbecue area, where you’d think they would go outside for a smoke. They did, but not every single time, nor did I expect them to. Late at night, when Madelene and I would retire into our bedroom, we’d smell the stale stench of cigarette smoke. Even though they were in separate rooms, we’d still smell it, as if he was puffing it right into our room. At 3am the smell would fade off into the fibers of the walls eventually.

Madelene and I still head over to the same beach house from time to time, but because my parents are a bit older, my father cannot walk up the high stairs leading to the house any longer. Even the short staircase leading up to the bedrooms would be difficult for him. It’s odd, because it was only five years ago. Sometimes I feel bad, because now I live in an apartment that has three flights of stairs going up. My father used to love coming by when I had my old apartment on the ground floor, and now, he tells me to install an elevator. How five years makes a huge difference when we’re getting up there in age. This is why I love to cherish the memories I’ve had with them, as well as the new ones to come.

Things change, people change, circumstances change, but I’m trying my hardest to focus in on 'the now' and remember all of the good times of the past, instead of mourning them. There’s a big difference in remembering and mourning. I think it’s safe to say that we all mourn them most of the time, but for some, if they’re lucky enough, they’ll remember it as if it were yesterday.

Not Getting What They Want...

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 06:08:45 PDT

Standing outside in front of a busy cafe, wondering how I ever got over my fear of crowds started to overwhelm me. I started thinking about the days when I had agoraphobia. I’d walk into a mall full of people and my equilibrium would somehow fade out on me, leaving me holding onto something or someone, and at times, be found on the floor passed out. I’d wake up to a crowd of strange faces looking down at me. “Are you ok? Can you hear me? What’s your name? What’s today’s date?” Sometimes, I’d find myself waking up inside of an ambulance. I was hooked up to the oxygen being asked the same things: “What’s today’s date? Who is our president?” At times, the simple answers to all of these questions would slip away from me.

Although through the years, I have gotten better. With CBT (Cognitive Behavior Therapy), I’ve managed to break through the vicious cycles of agoraphobia. I started venturing outside of my home. It was scary and this 'new world' seemed so different now. I started getting a little paranoid, thinking, “Everybody’s staring at me. Everybody knows I’m having an anxiety attack.” My worst fear was embarrassing myself in a supermarket if I had an anxiety attack and then passing out. To be honest, it’s still a great fear on the back burner of my mind. And, although I still cannot work a conventional structured 9-5er, I’m content working from home doing freelance. It’s what works best for me. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, because a few years back, I wasn’t making any money hardly - just dribs and drabs to work my way up.

I’ve had some people in my life look down on me and basically said: “Oh she’s no longer the IBMer anymore”, or “on her last day at the phone company, she was taken out on a gurney”. I know some still think that, and it’s okay. Even though I have enjoyed many days at these companies that I have worked for, I have never been happier in my life doing what I do right now. I am not able to live a structured life. I still, from time to time, get panic attacks and a touch of agoraphobia (as far as going into huge supermarkets and malls), but I am much better from years back hiding away from the rest of the world.

This post stems from a recent judgmental remark someone had said. They mocked how I was out of work for quite a spell because I was “messed up” and couldn’t work a normal job and then went on to tell me that my relationship with my wife was meaningless. This person also went on to say that I lived a “ghetto life” because I live in a condo complex which holds many people. (The horror!) On that note, this same person also wanted me to promise her that if I were to ever leave my wife, that she would be my first choice. When I told her that would never happen, these vicious comments were thrown at me.

This is another reason why I fear the world and hide out at times. People can be vicious and vindictive. Friends have motives. People assume too much and conjure up stories that are beyond my ability to understand. Sometimes I think it’s better just to hide out in my corner of the world and let the world just do their thing. But, I refuse to go back into my 'shell of safety' and let people have that control. I’ve been giving them way too much of it all my life.

This time it’s different. Say what you want. Think what you want. Feel what you want. But in the end, it always comes down to somebody not getting what they want.

Lonely & Surrounded by Many

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 08:05:40 PDT

An unfortunate death occurred this past week by a girl who had committed suicide. While talking to my friend who had known her for somewhat number of years, she said to me, “I can’t believe she did this! She was so pretty and she had money, why would she do this to herself?” I thought about that question for a while. I thought about my own life too. What would make someone who has what everybody dreams of: looks, money, a good looking spouse - want to end their life? Most people without a chemical imbalance would think up the logical reasons, but they couldn’t with this girl. This girl was beautiful, from what I’m told, inside and out. But, what about looking beyond the outer shell of her life? What about looking deep inside; deep inside of her heart as well as mind?

First “logical” reasoning is: “She’s beautiful.” Maybe it’s possible she looked into the mirror and saw a completely different person than what most people had seen. Many women and some men have an image distortion. It’s the same concept as anorexia: a skinny person looking into the mirror and seeing an obese person staring right back at them. There are beautiful models that look in the mirror and find an ugly person looking right back at them. I’m sure we’ve all looked in the mirror (especially myself) and thought, “Oh nooooo way am I putting those shorts on!” Or, you just feel less than par one day. That’s normal. But when it happens on a daily basis, where you find yourself flirting with the ideas of distorted opinions of yourself, then it’s time to really try to get a grip on it. But then again, how do you know if it’s distorted or not? Your mind can plays tricks on you.

Money. “She has so much money, why would she do this?” If you think about it, money has never made anyone happier. In fact, it’s been the split of many families. Money will have you developing friends left and right, to only help you spend it. You can be surrounded by millions of people who claim they love you, however the reality of it is: you may be the loneliest person on earth. Look what happened to Michael Jackson. He had so many people surrounding him, and when a friend had asked him, “Are you lonely, Michael?” He moved up, waited a moment to get his thoughts together and responded: “I’m a very lonely man.”

Some of the best times of my life were spent in a tiny apartment with my partner, giving the place a fresh coat of paint and hearing the broken pipes squeal with pain. Our fuses always blew, the hot water ended at 8am, so on the weekends, we’d rush to take our showers before everyone in the building did, because our slumlord only provided one hot water heater for a five family house. Looking back on it though, the good outweighed the bad and there are so many wonderful memories in that little dumpy place. I was at my happiest then. Although I’ve moved up a tad in the world and have things I’ve always wanted, I still get depressive episodes because that’s just my make up. I had told my wife, “Even if we get a nice condo, nice cars, and a comfortable spot in the world, I’m still going to have depressive episodes from time to time.” She understood me all too well. Money will never make me “happy”. My faith in God, love, family, friends - that’s all I need and all I’ll ever want out of life. If I happen to stumble upon winning the lottery---great. If not, probably even better. Home isn’t a huge house or a condo with nice things in it - home is where your heart is - home is where my wife is.

When It Hits Home...

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 13:35:02 PDT

Lately, I haven’t written anything so much as a Tweet in the last week or so. I think I caught the ‘absorb the madness’ bug from one of my favorite bloggers, Enemy of the Republic. And mind you, not so much that it is a bad thing, however I am finding myself absorbing the craziness of the world. I’ve been fixated on the media, watching stories unfold of the injustice of Iran’s elections and the brutality, bloodshed and horrific Youtube videos and Twitter updates of the massacres that are going on. A young woman who was protesting was shot in the chest. She was identified as, Neda Aghan Soltan, to be made an example of the horrific killings that are going on. The video is even too graphic and more so, sad to even display on my blog. I’m just giving acknowledgment and a link if you want to watch the video. It is very disturbing to watch, so I warn you. While Neda was shot in the heart, a man was kneeling next to her crying out in Farsi, “My Neda, don’t be afraid, please don’t go, please don’t go, please stay...!” One woman, made as an example and many people also killed in the same way.

Then you have North Korea threatening to wipe America off the map with a nuclear war. Has this world gone completely mad? I’ve contemplated about airing my views regarding Obama’s reactions, decisions, choices, promises, lack thereof, as well as his ability (or disability) to maintain the U.S. as the strongest nation. Obama is concerned about going aboard Korea’s warship named, “Kang Nam”, to investigate whether or not it is carrying weapons of mass destruction. He’s so afraid of being called another “Bush” that he is possibly backing away from them - bowing down to a weaker country. John McCain suggested that we should definitely investigate regardless of these “silly” threats being made to the United States. There is no diplomacy when it comes to dealing with unreasonable countries who simply hate us. This was why I voted for John McCain. He would not pull his pants down for another dinky country to make these types of threats. This is another reason why I voted for Bush. I’d rather my marriage equality to suffer than the world. It’s a no brainer.

I know most of you disagree with my views on politics, and I understand. Everyone wants peace. I want peace. I think peace talks would be great...if they only worked. For years these countries have hated us so much - what would possibly change? There is no “change”. As far as my religious views go on this: we are in Revelations as we speak. Who would have thought the Bible has made better predictions than Nostradamus, Sylvia Browne or even Miss Cleo?

I’ve been advised to stay away from all sources of the news. I’ve been told not to read the papers, not to tune into any news channels and to just focus on ~positive~ things. I used to tell Enemy of the Republic the same thing. Now, I’m in her shoes absorbing too much of this. We heard about the slaughters that took place in other countries, but now with Youtube, Twitter and Facebook, we are viewing it with our very own eyes which makes it more “real”. I guess when we don’t ‘see it’, we kind of put it on the back burner. When threats are made to other countries, we sometimes tend to disregard it. When threats are made to us - the United States - the strongest country in the world, then it hits home.

The Walking Nerve

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 16:39:47 PDT

Little joys of life seem to fade away as we grow older. Worry seems to have taken its place. I remember when I was younger thinking the sprinkler was some sort of an amusement park ride. Just the thrill of the cold water hitting my bare skin while my feet touched the wet blades of grass below was pure joy to me. Even when my mom would take me outside for a walk or just to play, the smell of the air was different. It was crisp; it was cool. I could smell the rain on the macadam as we headed back inside to watch the storm come in. I felt safe and loved. It was a nice feeling. Saturday mornings were a treat for me. My sisters and I would all gather around the TV and watch Looney Tunes while eating Fruity Pebbles, then head outside to play or swim in the pool. Funny as it seems, I still complained when all the activities had ended. “Ma I’m bored.” She would turn around and look down at me and say, “What? You just swam for two hours and played outside, how can you possibly be bored?”

I remember getting so excited when my dad would come out to the poolside area. My dad, being 6 ft tall, 350 lb would walk over to the side of the pool very slowly, give us a funny threatening stare, take off his slippers neatly on the side, and then would do a cannonball just to wipe us out. It was a total routine he had. He knew we loved it. Then we’d watch him lay down upon the water and lie there for like ever! It was amazing. This huge man floating on the water, as if he was completely comfortable and ready to take a nap.

What happens to our passion for the little things; the simpler things? We need more of a rush to get our adrenaline going. Don’t get me wrong - little things like a great cup of coffee and watching the sun rise are all very exciting for me still, but there’s something different about the anticipation of it. I still get a rush from a good storm or when it snows to the point of closing all of the roads down. It used to thrill me when the lights would go out while a storm would hit while I was younger. Now? I tend to worry: "When will they come back on? Will I have hot water tomorrow? What about my internet connection? I can’t do anything but use my cell!”

Do you think worry has disabled all our senses of joy?

“Worry a little bit every day and in a lifetime you will lose a couple of years. If something is wrong, fix it if you can. But train yourself not to worry. Worry never fixes anything.” -Mary Hemingway

That was too easy to type out. Carrying it out is a whole other ball game though. Now, if you were to tell me to go outside to the poolside and have fun, my mind would go into a complete shuffle: "Do I have my EpiPen in case a bee stings me? Is it too hot? Will I get a sunburn? Will I see a bear? Does this bathing suit make my ass look fat?" Seriously though, I think our thought processes, especially mine go into high gear and that’s it. We worry. It’s such a waste of time if you think about it - (but don’t think about it for too long).

At times I think I appreciate the little things, but truth be told, I find myself worrying more than I do enjoying everything. For the past few nights, I’ve had insomnia. My mind keeps going and going and going. It feels like it’ll never stop. I can’t even pinpoint on the one thing I had worried about because it is already long forgotten. Right there tells me that I have wasted an entire evening worrying about nothing. The funny thing is, my own mom worries about the smallest of things, yet she doesn’t fear the big things. It doesn’t make sense really. She’ll brave anything fearful, yet she will worry about having a couple of guests over: “Will I have enough food?” “Will they like the house?” “Will they enjoy their time here.” She goes into full panic mode before a party - especially right before our Christmas Eve functions. She panics all day, until guests have arrived and her drink is in hand. Then she’s finally enjoying herself. But it's so true: most of the things we usually worry about never happen. She always had enough food for an army and everyone always enjoyed themselves.

Maybe it’s genetic, but I don’t want to worry all my life and wait until “I'm there” in order to enjoy everything. I poke fun at mom and call her “the walking nerve” or “the worrywart “. My grandmother used to do the same exact thing. I won’t tell her that of course, but it’s true. Now I’m worried, will I end up taking the title: “the walking nerve” too?

Am I already there?

******************

EDIT: My sister Cathy read this post and commented on my facebook account and then posted a photo of her two kids & my other niece playing in the sprinklers, along with this comment:

"You're not alone - we all worry big & small. It's forgetting your worries for moments at a time that keeps ya sane! Enjoy the moment below." :)Thanks, Cathy! I love this photo! It definitely does bring back some nice memories!

Common Sense

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 01:29:51 PDT

I’m working on four hours sleep and two cups of black coffee. The rain outside is somewhat comforting, like little pellets of God's tears falling onto my skylight windows. It looks beautiful. The raindrops are making tiny circular ripples in each puddle they create out on my garden patio table. As the darker clouds move in, the wind picks up, creating a beautiful dance for the trees outside. Days like these, I don’t ever want the sun to come back out. There’s a certain kind of feeling I get when it storms like this. I live inside my head.

I tend to think too much, feel too much and react too much. Sometimes the rain brings out deeper thoughts on levels I never knew possible. Thoughts as: why are we here on earth? What’s our purpose? Why doesn’t God let us know why we’re here? I know theologians and people of faith can bust that question in half and come up with a million reasons why, but truth be it: we will never ever know until we meet our maker. Why do we go through so much turbulence in our life? Why do people hurt others? Why are we constantly fighting and trying to prove something? Is it worth it?

It’s all meaningless.

“The fastest runner doesn’t always win the race, and the strongest warrior doesn’t always win the battle. The wise are often poor, and the skilled are not necessarily wealthy. And those who are educated don’t always lead successful lives. It is all decided by chance, by being at the right place at the right time. People can neer predict when hard times might come. Like fish in a net or birds in a snare, people are often caught by sudden tragedy.” -Ecclesiastes 9:11-12

We work hard to get from point A to point B. We work to pay the bills, to keep a roof over our heads and to maintain life as it is. Some of us work to gain more power and abundance, while others simply try anything to get rich quickly. When a traumatic incident in my life hit home while I was sixteen, I decided to quit school and work, so I could help out at home since my mom was going to be without my dad for a while. During the right time and the right place, I got into a medical firm as a temp doing product control testing for computerized PDR handbooks in New Jersey. That led into advancement in my position to data entry, which led me into the world of accounting since I was very good at numbers. My career for most of my life was accounting and no one asked about my degree, because I had simply moved up from a previous position, which gave me hands on experience, plus tons of references. I had made more money than my friend who had finished college, stuck in a retail job making a bit over minimum wage.

All these jobs were meaningless. I just wanted to help my mom, take my parents on a vacation they would never forget and to have a savings of my own just to maintain life as is. I never wanted a big mansion or dreamt of having way too much than I can handle. I just wanted enough. I wasn’t settling for mediocre nor refusing to apply myself: I was just happy with the way things were. I was enjoying my life and still doing that.

A person who had been very close with me stated to a few people that I was “uneducated”. She had said, “She quit school and she’s uneducated.” Of course, this being out of anger, I knew where it was coming from, but I was hurt nonetheless. While she sits at her entry level position, while having completed school for many years, and then coming back home to her one bedroom apartment not being able to pay the rent on time, I can only assume the motives of why this was said. Or, I can just believe her and chuck it up to, “Wow, I really am uneducated.”

Although I believe that education is important, I also believe that hands on experience and the determination to use the skills you already possess is better. There are some people who don’t even have a job of which they majored in---and that’s ok. But, to put down people who work hard and yet lack the desired “education” from a schooling program is detestable. My father stopped going to school at the age of fourteen and was able to provide a five bedroom house for his entire family and enough food for an army that my mom always cooked every night.

I think people place too much emphasis on “status” and focus more on immaterial things, rather than the accomplishments --- the accomplishments that one makes while having the talent they have used given by God...not school. So yes, I may be “uneducated” in terms of finishing school, but I know better to why that statement was made in the first place. Sometimes common sense outweighs book smarts in most cases.

Bittersweet Endings

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 10:42:44 PDT

Can a devastating event that had occurred in our lives from the past affect us in various ways today? I clearly knew it would happen. I waited for my boyfriend to come over so we can “talk”. I opened the door and saw his face. It wasn’t the same ‘at ease’ face that I had always known. It said more. I stood there with a glass of water, as he watched my hand tremble in fear. I knew the next words out of his mouth; I knew what was going to happen next. Before he started talking, tears streamed out from my eyes. It was the same feeling you get when you receive a telephone call about someone you care about who had just passed away. He was passing away from my life - not in the physiological sense, but he was choosing to leave my life. We stood there in the kitchen hugging for God knows how long. I wasn't ready to let go of him just yet. I cried on his shoulder and held him as close as I possibly could. This would be our final embrace. It was a bittersweet and beautiful ending to our love relationship.

I clearly remember getting violently sick, hugging the toilet bowl as though I had just chugged a bottle of vodka down in one sitting. I was completely sober. I was too sober. I remember calling my best friend, and then she called all of our other friends, even one that lived over an hour away who had to take a bus over to come and comfort me. I had 15 girlfriends over trying to help me with this traumatic event. It felt like I had died, but, at the same time, I saw how much my friends really cared for me. They were there, trying to make me laugh, holding my hair back at times when I got sick and just being there for me, no matter how long it took for me to calm down. I’ll never forget that. (Most of them are on my facebook account, so thank you!)

Although I’ve always known I was a lesbian, or at least had more of an interest in women, I did fall in love with that man---hard. We remained friends for a long time after our breakup. He even proposed marriage while our friendship was in full bloom, however at that time, I was already with Madelene. He was even engaged to someone he was set up with in Pakistan. He didn’t want to go through with it. He would call Madelene “my friend”. He didn’t understand how two women could be together - it wasn’t natural - it was like being with a sister, he'd explained. He didn’t say that out of disrespect either. He was born in London but had Middle Eastern influences, which kept his ability to be opened about other lifestyles a bit limited. This didn’t mean he was ignorant or prejudice, he was just not knowledgeable about it.

With our history of being together and the wonderful times we have shared, I am so happy to see this man happy with a family of his own. He had always wanted children and to see that happen for him makes me happy. Even though we've lost touch, I will never forget the one person who was my best friend and lover. I fell in love with him the very first time I looked at him. I remember his big brown Middle Eastern eyes - something about a Middle Eastern man still does something for me. I find them most attractive out of all the cultures I’m familiar with. But it was more than just his appearance, it was the way he treated me. He was my complete other half - always listening to me without judgment and sharing his beliefs as a Muslim, yet respecting my beliefs as a Christian. I know I was young back then, but I have learned so much from this one person that I will never, ever regret dating him for those few years we were together.

At times, I can still feel the pangs of our breakup, but I know that it was good for us, because we've both learned so much out of it. We went through a lot and taught one another things we've never would have known today. Even though it was over 15 years ago, I still remember everything he had shared with me: his vulnerability and bravery to show his soft side, his knowledge of many and various topics, his spirituality and faith that led him through in life, his family values and how compassionate he was to so many people, especially the ones that were close to him. His respect for his parents and family were amazing. He helped random strangers in need of assistance and had an underlining affinity for those who were struggling in life, because he knew what it was like to start from scratch. He had to start over when he moved to the U.S., and worked his way up to own his own businesses. He chose to do the right thing for his life, and I respect that. I was ten years younger than him and going through my 'wild & crazy' phase. He needed more substance; a woman who could provide a family and home for him. I wasn't it. I wasn't ready. He needed to choose, and I respected that, through my selfish, salty tears that wanted him to stay with me.

When I hear my straight friends talk about how there are no good men out there anymore, I always disagree with them. I know at least one man who is perfect. His wife and kids are very lucky to have him. I'm sure there are many men out there like this.

All Barriers of Pride

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 06:56:32 PDT

It was Sunday morning, 8am, the sky was overcast and the footsteps of children running down the stairs to rush off to church sounded like a pack of wild boars. I got up to make coffee and looked outside my kitchen window and noticed the neighbors in the next building over were packing up a U-Haul, filling it up with all of their furniture and belongings. As I waited for the coffee to brew, I kept watching them as they bustled back and forth, carrying out wooden drawers one by one and boxes with huge marker labels on them. They weren’t saying one word to one another. They looked sad. After a few minutes, my assumption about their sadness was evident. They started arguing in the middle of the street when I finally got wind of a slight reason why they were moving: they were breaking up. The humid air seemed to have amplified their voices throughout the complex. Their screams of tensions were really screams of ‘please let’s not do this’---but their pride got in the way and somehow, they resolved to end their union bitterly.

Questions in my head were raised, like why were they packing up their stuff in the same U-Haul if it was that bitter of a breakup? Were they just trying to save money, or were they relocating to another home together, yet apart? Were they forced to live together anyway? Maybe the U-Haul was making two stops... My heart broke as I watched them still moving their stuff, passing one another in silence, and then sometimes, adding hurtful accusations and words to their opened wounds. I would hate to have seen this couple break up due to a huge misunderstanding. When two people, (or even one person in the relationship) has too much pride in their heart, there is no room for understanding. It’s just blown off and the other person is always to blame. The other person is always seen as “the crazy one”. Why do most exes call their past loves, “my crazy ex”?

Pride.

I do believe that pride is the root cause of insecurity issues. “I’m going to reject you before you reject me” type of mindset. Our past sometimes screws with us, leaving us to think that everyone is going to do the same thing that everybody else did: they left us. Fear of abandonment is more common than we think. I am not sure if the mindset ever changes or progresses as we get older and/or have more experiences, but it’s always embedded in us, regardless. Even if we do evolve to a better place, we still have that vulnerability that we tend to hide, making people believe that we’re strong enough, tough enough and able to take on the blows, when in actuality, we’re still that child begging to be loved, yearning for that one person we’ve once cherished to say, “it’s ok, I’m here now...” Even though that may never happen, we try to develop nurturing relationships with a huge shield in front of our chests, protecting our hearts.

The U-Haul was filled to the brim and the doors of the truck were closed and locked up. As I watched it drive off out of the complex, I just prayed that all of their misunderstandings and miscommunications would one day bypass all barriers of pride.

"Why Why Why?"

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 06:35:00 PDT

This week I had two people ask me how to get closer to God. One person, (my mom), stated that it simply just left her. I told her that it was more about her drifting away. The world gets so busy and eventually distracts us. We don’t have time to even sit and enjoy our coffee before it gets cold anymore. Our world is dominated by worldly distractions and if you’re lucky enough to have spare time to sit, meditate and focus on God, then you’re the luckiest person alive. Another friend, (which I will not disclose her name) asked me the same question, however her faith and background is of a different religion. Circumstances and trouble came crashing in on her, leaving her depressed and distant from God. In general terms, so that our faiths didn’t clash, I suggested that she should do some breathing exercises with visualization and focus in on “God” - aka - meditate. It’s much simpler to use breathing exercises than refer to meditate, because sometimes people get funny with that term. Too “zen-like” and cooky for some.

Last year this time, I was in a really bad place - place being my mind, my heart - I was hopeless and almost lost faith in God. I accused God of not listening to me or answering my prayers. The thing was: the prayers that I prayed were not of God’s will. They were selfish prayers that would have put me in a much deeper downward of a spiral. Sometimes, be thankful for prayers not answered, because we might get what we “want”....not what we need.

“We can be confident that he will listen to us whenever we ask him for anything in line with his will. And if we know he is listening when we make our requests, we can be sure that he will give us what we ask for.” -1 John 5:14-15

How can God be present when there is so much bad in this world? How can God let this happen to us? How can all these terrible things, like the shooting at the Holocaust Museum by a very hateful man happen, or all of these awful school shootings by some isolated and rejected teenage kids come to pass while God is still watching over us? Is He watching over us or does it come down to simpler terms: God gave us free will and the freedom of choice? The truth of it all is that there is good and evil in this world. We need both. Without them, there would be no purpose for it all, no challenges to overcome successfully, as well as no reason to come to God. Without tribulations, some people would never get to even know God. We’d live in a world of no worries, no troubles, no adversities or hardships. Things would come too easily for us. Everyone would live equally as one and wouldn’t need to better themselves. We wouldn’t need God.

Why are we here?

However, even if things are going well, God still wants you to come to Him. And mind you - it’s not like you have to be some religious zealot rambling on and on all throughout your life talking about “religion”. In fact, religion is just a bad word to me. I’m human and if you met me in person you’d think someone else had written this post. I’m “real”----I don’t pretend to be some high and mighty spiritual being. In fact, I’m hardly that. (As most of you already know!) I’m just trying to get closer to God myself and maybe have someone relate to it all. I make mistakes and do things that God may disapprove of. Sound familiar? These things are why some people are scared to seek God. Thoughts like, “Well God won’t talk to me because I did this or I did that”, can have you distance yourself even further away. Most religious people who “pretend” to be good are usually the ones who are hiding a whole lot. And, who are we to judge, right? We all fall short. God wants us the way we are. He wants us to come to Him - not pretend to be somebody else. Do you think God won’t notice we’ve changed our entire being just to pray to Him? Think about it: God sees all. He knows what we do every second of the day so why wouldn’t we come to Him “as is”? He accepts you more than you think. Be real.

“Because of Christ and our faith in him, we can now come fearlessly into God’s presence, assured of his glad welcome.” -Ephesians 3:12

We worry about the purpose of life and what it all means, when we really should just be focusing on how to do it better the next time around. Our troubles make us stronger, which enable us to make better choices for the next challenges ahead. I stopped trying to figure God out and decided to have him figure me out instead. It just works better. I’m done asking, “why why why” and have begun accepting all the things that come swinging my way - whether good or bad.

Truth be it, science will always contradict religion and spirituality. There is no scientific evidence of “faith”. Blind faith is what some people call their “truth”. If your mission is to try to figure it all out - you’ll be like a fish trying to understand algebra. It’s impossible. Why do you think our world is disrupted with so many wars? Most of it are holy wars. Nothing is proven and nothing is concrete. You can try to debunk it all you want but without faith, and more reliance on the world and scientific evidence, your soul will constantly scream out, “why why why”?

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will direct your paths.” -Proverbs 3:5-6

Tribulations

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 09:58:01 PDT

Last night before Madelene and I retired for the evening, there was an interesting show on TV. We didn’t intentionally put it on, but while Madelene was brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed, I started watching this show of a female pastor talking and translating Latin literature from the Bible. Her name is Melissa Scott. Her website reads: "A natural linguist with command of twenty languages, she digs deeply into her vast collection of ancient manuscripts to find and communicate the purest understanding of what the original inspired writers of the Bible had to say."

Her teaching methods would have kept me a student forever. She is so fascinating. In any event, she was explaining and translating ancient Latin literature from the Bible regarding tribulations in life. The root to tribulations or comparison in the Hebrew dictionary is “tsanaph" - to violently turn. Main definition is “to suffer” - to cause great affliction and to test one’s endurance. What do Christians receive in order to be more Christ-like? Suffering. We are challenged every day of our lives because we are to come out strong. Our true character shows when we are tested in our weakest state-of-minds.

A quote I’ll never forget that Madelene brought up one day is, “If you can’t handle me at my worst, then you don’t deserve my best.” I don’t know the original author of that quote, but it makes sense. We are pressed on every side sometimes and at our weakest points, our true character shows through. That’s why I believe the truth will always seep out, whether somebody tries to attack you with malicious words, lies and deceptions with hurtful intentions. The closest people in our lives - the ones we think who love us the most, can be the very ones that take us down, or try to. It’s more effective when “love” is in the mix, because there is such a fine line between love and hate. But true love will always prevail - always accepting and expecting to take on the trials of anything to come in its way. True love is unfailing love - like Christ’s love. Love is patient. 1 Corinth. 13:4

Life isn’t supposed to be lived in a constant peaceful flow. What good would things be if we didn’t work for it or didn't go through trials for it? It would simply bore us. On the complete opposite spectrum, this is also why I think there are people who are drama queens and amplify things to the maximum. They want more of a challenge; creating drama beyond compare and when they finally receive the one thing they wanted out of the drama that they have caused, they have finally realized that it wasn’t worth the trouble.

Trials and tribulations are good for us.

“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are good for us--they help us to learn and endure. And endurance develops strength of character in us, and character strengthens our confident expectation of salvation. And this expectation will not disappoint us. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.” ~Romans 5:35

I guess the whole point of this post is, we should try to be grateful for the challenges we are facing today, because tomorrow we’ll be stronger for it.

Nothing Has Really Changed...

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 06:50:13 PDT

I remember when I used to have nightmares when I was younger, I would slip into my parents' bed and sleep in between the both of them. I felt safe. Nothing could harm me now. My dad would wake up at 3am and head into New York City to work at the South Street Seaport. I would hear his fish van start up and then pull out of our driveway. I’d slowly creep onto his side of the bed, knowing now it was just me and my mom. I still felt safe, even though dad had left us. In the morning, mom would wake me up, we’d get dressed and I'd run around town with her doing errands and giving her grief at the grocery store. I remember riding in the car seat in the back of our huge yellow Cadillac that took up the entire street...length-wise. I’d whine about why I had to still use this uncomfortable seat and then pass out from being such a pain in the ass. Nothing has changed really.

Dad would come home at around 1 o’clock in the afternoon, grab lunch and head off to his excavating job. Back then no one took their kids to daycare. It was unheard of. Most women were housewives who took care of their children at home. All three of my sisters were seven years above me. They were already in school, so mom had to mindlessly entertain me from 1 o’clock in the afternoon until all of my sisters came bustling home from school. My mom was my best friend. She spent the entire day with just me. She made sure I was entertained - and that’s a hard thing to do with a brat like myself. Nothing has changed really.

Even as I grew older, my mom still felt the need to see me as her baby. They would refer to me as “the baby”, until I reached the age of 10. It was sort of embarrassing bringing my little friends home and then hearing one of my parents say, “Where’s the baby?” I’d cringe and pretend I didn’t hear it. I’d just sit there and wonder when they would stop calling me “the baby”. Grandma seemed to keep the legend alive, until she passed. She used to stay with us for a few weeks, and then go back to her penthouse tenement in Brooklyn, New York. I loved it there. I always begged her to take me back with her. She used to make the best homemade pizza and bring me down to the farm market a few blocks down. I loved the city life, but was stuck living in the secluded mountains. Nothing has changed really, except that my neighborhood now is more like Brooklyn in a way.

Last night I had the worst nightmare. I woke up crying. Madelene woke up and thought something had happened or that I had received a disturbing phone call. I received a disturbing phone call, however it was only in my dream. My sister Carla called me and informed me that mom was no longer with us. I never in my life woke up with such pain in my heart. Tears kept seeping out by the dozens and I couldn’t talk. I thought it was real. Even when reality kicked in - that it was all but a dream, I couldn’t stop crying. Madelene stayed up with me and said, “I know how you feel. The difference is, when my dad passed away, I wish it were a dream.” If anybody knows me personally, you know that I’m basically still connected by the umbilical cord. My mom is my best friend and to even think that one day, she may not be around to answer my phone call and talk about funny gossipy things or to go out to our favorite restaurant and laugh till we’re making a spectacle out of ourselves...kills me. Tonight, I’m bringing her out to dinner to her favorite restaurant. I had to lie and say I won the lotto, because she never wants me to pay for anything.

Nothing has really changed.

It was all but a dream.

Thank God.

Accept & Expect

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 10:29:49 PDT

There are so many things that can steal your peace and joy. Life has its ups and downs and that will never change. We go through periods of sadness and periods of happiness, yet we never realize that we can maintain a level of constant joy. Constant joy isn’t an exhilarated excited feeling; it’s a peaceful calm within your heart no matter what circumstances you are going through. It takes practice and faith. Some of us let the downward spiral of the world get to us. I know I do many of times. By practicing meditation and going deep inside my faith as well as my spirituality, I can maintain a level of constant joy that only comes from one source only: God. Instead of seeking the adrenaline rush for my happiness in life, I seek to maintain a constant flow more reliable than any awaited excited feeling. I was addicted to the adrenaline rush all my life. It was time for a change.

I accept my lot in life. I’m more than happy with what I have, the family and friends I am blessed with as well as my work. This doesn’t mean I am settling though. I accept and expect much more in life. I am enjoying the “now”, as I’ve stated in my previous post, yet enjoying what has yet to come. There is a quote which I love by an unknown author: “Happiness is not having what you want. It’s wanting what you have.” I go through periods of my life where I’m like, “I shoulda’ been here this time in my life”, or “I should have accomplished and gained this much by now” --but all of that negative talk will leave me stuck in a stagnant world of envy of what other people have. I refuse to go that route.

This also goes for bitterness. I refuse to be stuck in the past, resentful and blaming people for what went wrong in my life. I take full accountability, yet I also don’t torture myself with ‘it’s all my fault’ type of mindset either. Forgiving others is just as important as forgiving yourself. It works both ways if you want to have some sort of peace in your life. We’re all human and we make mistakes. Let it go. Move forward and forgive, forget and pardon your own mistakes while you’re at it. Life’s too short to remain in a state of bitterness, resentment, anger, enviousness and self-deprecation. We can drill on what we don’t have, what we should have and what we cannot forgive or pardon, but by doing that comes depression, anxiety and of course, self-medicating to make it all better...until the next morning at least.

There’s a quote by Joyce Meyer that I absolutely love: “There is nothing you can do about what has already been done---but you can do something about how you respond.”

I still have a lot of practicing ahead of me, but with time, patience and more determination of my constant inner peace and joy, I find that all of these negative feelings, emotions are absolutely useless. They do nothing but drag me down. And what does the devil want to do? He wants to steal our peace and joy. That’s his main goal. I know some of you do not believe in the devil or hell, so I speak from my own faith. I refuse to be dragged down by the human flaw: our emotions. I refuse to let the devil steal my peace and joy. I refuse to get high on adrenaline and just dwell inside my own constant joy---no matter what I may be experiencing.

I will accept what comes my way, but I will also expect much more...so should you!

We Know Better "Now"

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Fri, 29 May 2009 07:29:12 PDT

In an instance, everything can be taken away from us like that. All of our belongings, loved ones, things that we cherish can vanish in blink of an eye. Most of us take for granted what’s in front of us right now - today - in the present. We focus on the past, mourning about things and people we’ve lost and we look too much into the future: who we’ll love, what career we’ll have next and where we will live. Many of us miss out on the best part: the journey. We let our emotions take control and drive us way back into our past or have it tinker with our desires in life and focus on what we don’t have. Desiring things are good, but skipping out on the path there, isn’t. By the time we figure it all out, we'll be too old to do anything about it.

For a long time, I was missing out on the “now”. I focused way too much on what I had lost, and focused way too much on the future. I spent too much time inside my own head mourning the past and not letting go. My mind was fixated with obsessive thought patterns. And, at times, if I’m weak enough, it’ll go back into that same mode. I’m only human. But, with time it got better. Last night while talking to my friend at a new bar and grill that had just opened up, I heard her say, “You know, you don’t talk about the past like you used to, in fact, I haven’t heard you speak of it at all these days.” I looked over at her and almost thought to myself: what is she talking about? Almost as if I have forgotten it. (Of course I haven’t forgotten it), but it was interesting to see myself responding, or better yet, not responding as I would have. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s more about how my time spent praying, meditating and focusing on God has healed me. The pangs of the hurt that I went through are no longer there. I thought they would never leave.

There came a time where I knew I had to do something. I tried everything from quitting drinking, changing my lifestyle habits and just making better choices for myself. All of that was wonderful, but there was something missing still. I needed more. I wasn’t healing properly still. I needed a breakthrough and I wasn’t getting one. I felt stuck; trapped inside my own mind like a prisoner of war. Obsessively thinking and drilling into the past, having it affect my present and future. I was torturing myself. All of these negative thoughts stealing all of my peace and joy. I had to do something and I couldn’t wait. I started to meditate. Everything was distracting me. Cars went by, horns were blown and construction guys were yelling obscenities from out on the street. “Focus”. “Breathe”. I then started seeing a professional who helped me find better techniques to focus.

We forget to breathe. It causes anxiety and lack of oxygen in our brains leaving us to lean toward negative responses. How can we respond properly if we don’t have sufficient oxygen in our brain? I began practicing. Meditation isn’t something you can master in one day. It really takes practice. It looks easy - but I assure you, it’s not. As time went on and I started to pray and meditate on a daily basis, my obsessive thought patterns have simmered down somewhat and I began enjoying life again in the “now”.

Our past doesn’t define us, however it does strengthen our character and endurance for the next time around the mountain full of new challenges. We wouldn’t be where we are if it wasn’t for our past. We can leave the past behind, but we can definitely use it to our advantage as a learning tool. Don't ever get old having regrets of not living in the moment. Life passes by more quickly than we can possibly imagine.

We know better "now".

Taking a Step Back to Reflect

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Wed, 27 May 2009 08:09:44 PDT

Sometimes I have to take a step back, retreat and hide from the rest of the world, before I start loathing it; before I start realizing how self-absorbed and obnoxious some people can be. I’m accountable too. The one difference I see from myself and others is: I retaliate and speak before thinking sometimes. I don’t hurt others out of jealousy, resentment or to just be plain mean to them. My words of anger stem from hurtful attacks by other people. Sometimes, these “hurtful attacks” can be misconstrued of course by my own little pointed noggin. I take things the wrong way. I also take things the way they are.

It is what it is.

The past few years have been really interesting. I’ve encountered people hating me out of pure jealousy. My question would be: why? Another mystery would be why others, especially people that are close to me, seem to be “nice” while in my presence and then completely turn around and badmouth me to a bloody pulp as if they’ll never think their words would get back to me somehow. I guess they trust everyone they talk to.

I have many people in my life who don’t necessarily “like me” because of my lifestyle, or they just feel that maybe I’ve placed my wife into eternal damnation. I’ll stop there. Avoidance is the biggest indicator of not agreeing with my lifestyle. Of course, the biggest day of my life - the happiest day of my life, was a huge indicator. Nobody has to agree with my lifestyle, but if these people say they love me and accept me, then it would have been nice to have seen them at my very own wedding. Not a card or sentiment, nor an attempt for a house warming or shower. Just “best of luck”. Nobody had to pay a penny out of their pocket - just their presence would have made me feel blessed. The ironic part of their lack of acceptance is their very own offsprings who are a little light on their fragile toes who have seem to lost all sense of identity whatsoever. Life’s funny sometimes.

Then you have the ones who think if you’re not a soccer mom or go to PTA meetings, then you’re not ‘part of the group’ - part of their little club. Thank the good Lord I’m not. These housewives I speak of can’t even hold a conversation without glancing sideways at their kid yelling, “Get back here now” and then trying to focus back on you with a statement such as, “Ok, so you were saying?” I don’t envy these people one bit. I feel bad for them, but the judgmental grimaces I see on their faces while thinking my lifestyle is reckless and not suitable enough to be around their children make me think how they’ll handle one of their own kids possibly telling them one day, “Umm, mom, I’m gay.” What then?

I think education is so important. Teaching kids the difference between a loving couple - a married couple, as opposed to referring to homosexual people as “perverts” or “promiscuous” is important. We are just like anyone else: married, with the possibility of having kids. And yes, we are able to have children to those who believe differently. We are not promiscuous swingers: we’re a family unit - even if we’re just two in a household. Madelene is my family, my wife, my best friend --- something that surely is lacking in many heterosexual households. I wouldn’t trade my life in for any soccer mommish role. I’m happy with my lot in life, my wife, my work, my friends and my strong bond with my parents.

I have to admit that there are people currently in my life right now, that if I never saw them ever again, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Some people just drift off in different directions, and that’s okay. We just need to accept it all and realize that people are in our lives for a reason, a season or for a lifetime. I’m just grateful for the wonderful memories I have had with them. Sometimes, you just have to take a step back and reflect.

Embracing Bitterness While Trying to Heal

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Fri, 22 May 2009 12:20:49 PDT

I felt the need to continue the discussion I had in the comment section of my previous post, with someone that went under “anonymous”. The post mainly dealt about issues of emotional, verbal abuse when someone that was loved once before has been jaded or hurt. “Sticks and stones” was referenced and basically how two wrongs don’t make a right, questioning if the first wrong...was in indeed “wrong”. When a person is trying to heal from an intense relationship that has ended, is it healthy for that person to go through a “healing process” of slandering and dragging their ex love’s name through the mud? I totally understand the fragile emotions of the first few months of the breakup. It’s raw. It’s hurtful. It’s the feeling of a great loss. It’s also feelings of jadedness, anger, resentment and bitterness sometimes. It’s rare you find a mutual breakup that deals with mutual respect and admiration to continue a friendship thereafter.

How do we heal the “healthy way”? There is no answer really. I mean, we can suggest this and that - but someone, somewhere will tell you it’s not how they cope with a loss. Everyone is different. But, you do have to take into account negative emotions, such as bitterness and anger that lingers too long inside the heart. Those emotions can lead into other aspects of a person’s life: hard time creating new friendships and relationships, short fuses, lack of trust, anxiety, depression and isolation. When you’re bitter at the world for too long, the world becomes a bitter place. It’s no longer joy and happiness: it’s misery and depression. It’s dark. It’s a place where you just say “Eff everyone and everything!” I can’t see that as being healthy.

Getting back to Miss Anonymous, I had a really interesting time conversing back and forth with her regarding this topic. I’m not going to copy and paste the entire dialogue, because you can always click here to read it. I will copy and paste just a couple of things...

Anonymous: Sometimes people have to do what is right for them and in an unhealthy situation it becomes necessary to leave the relationship. Necessary for survival. It doesn't mean you can't allow that person back in, after the healing, and ultimately forgiveness and acceptance takes place. There is a process that has to take place, a healing process.

Deb: I totally understand the process of healing and taking your time, but what I don't understand is, while in the process of healing, why a person that feels they have been either, "jaded" or "wronged" have to keep on for years talking negatively about that person. In your honest opinion, would you call that a healthy way to heal? That's what I'm talking about: when someone is hurt, like an ex, and feels jaded and robbed of whatever -----how long does that person have to slander and emotionally beat their lost love to a bloody pulp before healing? What are your thoughts?

Coincidently, Miss Anonymous and myself have been in similar situations, her’s being a divorce and mine being a breakup from a relationship. Love is love, right? My question really focused more about the negative aspects of the bitterness, years afterwards. How does one heal if they aren’t creating an atmosphere of healing? Regardless of deciding whether or not to ever speak to that person again ---why slander someone forever and create that bitterness for others to see? In my opinion, when I see someone who is atrociously bitter at an ex from years past, I think, “Wow, that person has to be miserable inside.” People around you will pick that up. Usually, a bitter person cannot have or “hold” a relationship for long or maintain friendships due to the darkness they exude. You cannot hold resentment in your heart and hide it. It comes out in different forms and people will see it eventually. They hear it, they feel it, they realize that this person is in a bad place.

Healing. How do you heal in a “healthy” way? For me, I pray for “my enemy”. I pray that God sends them love, happiness, laughter and most of all, healing of the mind, body and soul. I send this love to “the enemy” every single day. I truly believe prayer is so very powerful, which is why I do this - not for any other reason than for healing to take place for this person, and, to continue on with my healing process as well.

Think about this concept: employers during interviews give trick questions to see if you’re the right candidate. One of the trick questions is: “What didn’t you like about your former employer?” As being in human resources myself at one time, the big “OH NO SHE DI-IN’T SAY THAT” reactions would be a result of an answer like, “Oh my GAWD they were so nasty and rude and treated me so badly! They didn’t pay me enough and made me work overtime! Their company is going down and my boss was a self-centered imbecile.” An answer like that will have the interviewer saying, “Well, thank you for applying. We’ll review your resume and call you if we’re interested...” ~Blip~ You just lost yourself a job. Now, the same applies when you are out on a date and still have bitterness in your heart. Badmouthing the ex is the worst thing you can possibly do. It makes you sound pathetic, screaming, “I’m a victim!”

So, Miss Anonymous, my question geared more around, how healthy is it to heal when you embrace bitterness within your healing circle?

In general terms, of course...

Deep Into One's Heart

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Wed, 20 May 2009 12:26:56 PDT

The basic lessons in life when you’re a child are all about social skills: saying please and thank you and being polite to those around you. Learning the golden rule of life deemed important and “sticks and stones” were embedded into our brain so we wouldn’t get offended so easily. We were taught to protect ourselves with the “sticks and stones” quote, by those who would hurt us with mere words.

Did we ever really learn?

What about “two wrongs don’t make a right”? It seemed to have lost its importance as years went by. So, when someone bad mouthed you, it was because they were hurt by what you did, therefore hurting you back twice as badly. Especially in matters of the heart and relationships, all of these great rules to live by have simply trickled down the drain. Nobody likes getting hurt. And, as hard as this may be to swallow: nobody enjoys hurting others - even if it seems as though they do. I guess this is what I believe anyway.

We try to give the benefit of the doubt.

If your parents were religious, they’ve probably taught you a great deal about forgiveness too. As adults, we conform into our own ways and believe what we want to believe. Some of us are weak in mind; only relying on what other people think. It’s as though we allow brainwashing techniques to take over our lives and live by what others feel to be acceptable or not. Usually these “people” are relatives or close friends ---people that we have to deal with for a lifetime, or whom we value their relationship a great deal. However, what if we didn’t take their advice and went by our own accord? Would this “important person” wreak havoc on the choices that have been made without their consent?

Live by the beat of your own drum. Love who you want. Screw the rest of the world who disagrees with you. Take chances and never let anyone tell you that your heart is wrong or that you’ll get hurt, because regardless, we all get hurt. Don’t let other people’s views warp your sense of compassion. Some people are jealous, irritable and/or judgmental. Whatever the case: people who try to dictate other people’s lives are like busybody neighbors who have absolutely no life of their own. They watch out their windows and hope for something to happen. The same with your life: they watch your backyard, hoping you’ll trip and fall and then, giving them the ability to say, “I told you so”. These people want you to solely rely on them, this way they don’t feel so lonely and pathetic.

Have you ever been in a position where you simply did not think your best friend’s new girlfriend or boyfriend is right for them? And, If you have, did you ever let your thoughts be known? Have you ever encountered someone constantly telling you all of these bad things about their lover, and then later on have them wonder why you don’t care for this particular person? One person can truly paint a picture for other people to see someone else in a completely different view. You want to believe that you’re a good judge of character, however you also want to side with your best friend and believe what they’ve told you. It’s simply too much bullshit for one day.

Simple fact: many people want to come out looking like the good guy. That’s fine. But when words are meant to slander and create false illusions, in the end it will always backfire. It’s kind of like the laws of attraction. Whatever type of energy you put out, you'll receive. Some call it karma - but that may be a whole different type of concept.

One of my favorite scriptures in the Bible popped into my head. I had no idea where it was and then I opened the Bible and there it was - I fell right onto that page. I love when that happens!

“Any story sounds true until someone sets the record straight.” -Proverbs 18:17 (NLT)

Of course if a story told, we pay close attention to that person telling it and for that matter and time spent, we want to believe what’s being said. We can’t read minds and we’re certainly not a human lie detecter. Take everything you hear with a grain of salt when it comes to bitter people talking about their exes or someone that they’re on the outs with. There is always another side to the story. The other day Madelene was telling me a story regarding one of her friends going through a little bit of turbulence in her relationship. I had asked her if she knew for a fact that this was all true. She said, “Well, it’s what she told me.” I looked at her and just said, “Wouldn’t it be amazing to hear the other side of this story?” In court, someone usually straight up lies and doesn’t think twice about it. Sometimes, their lies are even believed by the person telling them.

Even my name has been dragged into the mud, slandered and beaten to a bloody pulp. I have the peace to know that what has been said were rooted through bitterness, jealousy and resentment. These words, which have affected me a great deal a while back, have now resurfaced and come back to the one who has said all of these lies. The constant slandering got her nowhere but stuck in a rut in life for a long time. Some people don’t have a a heart - which in fact leads into a lack of compassion for other people’s feelings.

“What dainty morsels rumors are--but they sink deep into one’s heart. -Proverbs 18:8

Meet My Friend "Ida"

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Tue, 19 May 2009 07:13:51 PDT

A Sunday with Ida in New York City...

Visit her @ www.amybeckerman.com

If you'd like to see Amy Beckerman live, she'll be performing at Stand Up NY - 236 W. 78th St. New York, NY 10024, this Thursday on May 21rst!

Visit her website for more scheduled performances. Her stand up comedy is hysterical!

Purging

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Mon, 18 May 2009 16:50:04 PDT

Purging. It’s what I do best, since I absorb so much. It’s equivalent to bingeing on negative energy and then finally letting it release upon an unknown source. To some extent, we all do this. We’re human. Bottled up emotions, secretive battles within ourselves that makes our heart scream with anguish and mourn with sorrow are all energies that need to finally come out. Whether it comes out “as is”, or as an alias, is solely up to us. Some mask what’s hidden inside and blow up at something or someone that isn’t necessarily the triggering source. It’s just dumping your trash into another bin.

Although my spirits have been high, I’ve been feeling the heaviness; keeping it inside and having a difficult time purging it all. It’s not healthy. I went and renewed my gym membership, this way I can plunge into a good workout if I feel pent up. I started working out every single day, until my back locked up on me. Although exercise has been known to relieve stress, it’s still not enough. I thought it would be a helpful outlet. But what about the stuff brewing inside? Aside from exercise, there has to be another outlet for the emotions; a verbal one possibly. Simple meditation and reflection can do wonders, so I’ve been told. I didn’t have the time, nor the patience.

When I think of the word meditation, I think: “relaxing” and “easy”. I find it hard to focus on not thinking about anything. My mind is constant. It won’t stop. It just goes on and on and on... I sit, breathe, and think about trying not to think. It just doesn’t work for me anymore. I have someone trying to help me with this - a professional. She stated that my back problem was most likely due to stress. It’s amazing how emotional chaos can wreak havoc on us physically. Sometimes, emotional distress can cause illnesses. Trapped energy can lead into health problems. It makes sense.

How do I get the lightness back again? How do I obtain a conscious level of “happiness”---not the adrenaline junkie type of happiness, but the constant joy of peace that comes from God or a higher being? Even with all the praying I have been doing, it seems quiet. It seems like prayers being thrown upon deaf ears - or am I not realizing or feeling the power of my prayers. Many would question atheism at this point, but I still have faith, I’m just having a hard time connecting to everything, everyone and even God right now.

Last night I did a cleansing inside my apartment. I burned sage and said a prayer, asking for protection. I must have looked like a gypsy gone insane, but at this point, I’m trying anything. Have you ever felt a heaviness that you couldn’t explain? Almost as if, something or someone is preventing you from moving into the next phase? I feel “stuck” - almost stagnant, where the road ahead has a visibility of zero. It’s different from being depressed - it’s not depression - it’s a feeling of uncertainty; perhaps blindness of my surroundings would be a better term to use. My vivid dreams are becoming more and more realistic. I have no clue how to analyze them, or if I should try to analyze them.

If this is making a lick of sense to anyone, please feel free to comment and leave suggestions. I’m tapped out right now and feel limited. I’ve rarely felt this way before and with that, never verbally admitted to this. So, I write...and write. Maybe there is a purpose to all of this. I guess this is my way of purging.

The Aspiring Professional Lurker

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Sat, 16 May 2009 14:40:51 PDT

Without a doubt, I know most people who read my blog are also writers or have the urge to, at least. Some days it comes easy and other days, it feels as though there isn’t one word to describe how I’m feeling; I’m just simply out of steam. For work purposes, it comes easily because there’s an agenda. There’s more of a structured type of program I follow. But, for this blog, my personal little doodling pad, I find it difficult at times to express myself the way I want to, or find the words I want to type.

The other night I was watching, Finding Forester, a movie about an afro-american teen writing prodigy who finds a mentor in a reclusive author. The author was encouraging the boy to write. He said something very significant: “Your first draft you write with your heart. Your second draft you write with your head.”

I remember in grammar school we had those ditto sheets. The teacher would tell us to “speed write”---meaning: write every single thought onto the paper as fast as you can. Tell a story of something that had happened to you in the past or something you feel strongly about. She also said don’t worry if it’s sloppy - just write! All of us started furiously jotting down words off the top of our heads, with our tongues hanging halfway out of our mouths. We wrote about our vacations or how we were upset that we didn’t get to do this or that or how our parents reprimanded us for doing whatever, and we felt we didn’t deserve the punishment we received. Other kids wrote about how they hated homework, much like an attempt to boycott it altogether. Whatever. It was in our hearts, right? Afterwards, we had to basically edit and clean it up to present it as an essay. We wrote with our hearts and then with our heads.

I never told this to anybody, except for Madelene, but at the age of 19, I had written my very first book by hand in a composition notebook. There were five notebooks I had completed. I never tried publishing it, nor did I show it to anyone. It was a fictional love story between two women. I’m not a huge fan of fictional novels or writings for that matter, but this book was so in tune with my life that it seemed nonfiction. I was a closet writer. I didn’t show anybody my work. I even wrote lyrics to music, most of it hidden in a notepad in the last drawer of my old bedroom. Eventually, the music and lyrics came out, more so than my fictional writing did.

Back then, we didn’t have the internet. I used to buy books that were memoirs or “diaries of so and so” to read raw and honest truths about someone I admired. Even if it wasn’t someone I admired, I wanted to read “real life stories”----much like a blog but in a book form. More than ten years later, blogging became all the rage and I dove into it head first. The mere fact that random people can just log onto your page and read your words was exciting to me. I had a voice for the very first time. I had a place that was all my own, where people could absorb my words, tap into my mind and see what’s really in my heart. If you have ever seen my vlogs, you would think another person was speaking. I write much differently than I speak. I don’t know why - maybe proper grammar conscious, but even so, my grammar is off at times. I can’t say that I’m shy, because people think of me as a complete goof in person, and I’ve even heard some go as far to call me an “intellectual thinker” when they read my words---so the two don’t correlate at all, in fact, they’re quite the contradiction. But who says you can’t be a goofy intellectual thinker? Hrmm...

I’m glad I didn’t hide out as a lurker to the blogging world. I’m sorry I didn’t publish my first book, because it was really good in my opinion. It was a good book for people who had just come out of the closet as homosexuals. But, I have no regrets. I ripped it up for a reason and that reason being: I’m not a fictional writer. It wasn’t “me”. I wasn’t ready. So, here I am today writing about my life and being 100% honest and raw as one possibly can. My second book will be out this September. It's more about my life, family and events in a heartfelt and comical tone.

If you’re reading this blog and you have an urge to write for yourself, don’t hold back. Get your voice out there because someone, somewhere is going to need to “hear” it. Don’t just be an "aspiring professional lurker"--get out there and make a voice for yourself.

19th Nervous Breakdown (Part II)

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Fri, 15 May 2009 08:03:22 PDT

Ah, peace and quiet. That’s how it was from last night until this morning. (See previous post.) I thought it would be a good idea to leave a note on my neighbor's door in an envelope before I left to go out for the day. In the letter I had written, I had asked if she was ok and if she ever needed anything, to not hesitate to call or even come upstairs. I also indicated that I realized we have never met before, but I was really concerned because I thought she was getting robbed or God forbid, something worse. Figuring that the letter would defuse the 'war of the stereos', it would also give her a sense of neighborly kindness. One would only assume...

At around 6pm I got a phone call from the boyfriend. Now, the letter was left more for the girl, because I was really concerned about her and the blood curdling scream. Her boyfriend has not been home in almost a week.

Here’s the conversation that the boyfriend and I had over the phone:

“Yeah hi, it’s Bobby from downstairs, how you doin’?”
“Hi Bobby, is everything ok? I just wanted to see if she was alright.”
“Yeah yeah - dingz’ are good. Da police came inside lookin’ for me yanno? Dey’ dought’ I did sumptin’ to her or sumptin, yanno?”
“Well, I heard the water go on and then a loud bang followed by a woman’s scream. I wasn’t sure if it was from your apartment or the next one over. Then I heard the police come inside. I hope everything’s ok...”
“Yeah yeah, you can hear everything ova’ here yanno? I hear you wake up every mornin’, I know wha' time you go to sleep, I know when you go to the baTRoom’, I know---”
“Yeah Bobby, the walls are thin, I know.” I said, hoping he wouldn’t go on to say he heard us in bed as well.
“Well like I said, if you guys need anything, don’t hesitate to give us a call or come up...”
“Das' really nice of you - das' really cool! You too, yanno?”
“Ok then. Nice to hear from you, Bobby.” I said, hoping that this intelligent conversation would end quickly.
“Yeah yeah, you too.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”

My question is: why is he calling me and not his girlfriend? He wasn’t the one screaming. In any event, he wasn’t even there for over a week. I know this for a fact. Also, why were the cops there for over three hours in her house? Something had to have happened. Well, it’s none of my business anyway, however I must say that it has been so extremely peaceful last night into this morning. Not a peep! She wasn’t even walking like a stallion. I heard her walking, but she was so pleasantly ~tip-toeing through the tulips~ that I had to just say: “thank you” under my breath as I was able to sleep in a little.

19th Nervous Breakdown

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Thu, 14 May 2009 06:30:16 PDT

As some of you already know, our neighbors downstairs are quite loud and boisterous at times. Ever since they’ve put in hard wooden floors, they sound like two horses galloping around. We’ve recently learned that they’ve been having wars with the neighbors below them. I had heard her saying, “Well the neighbors don’t give a shit. Thank God they don’t live above us.” (Which indicated it was not us she was complaining about.) So as days went on, every 6am they would have a sound war. She would blast awful Michael Jackson music and the apartment beneath her would blast out really good club music - stuff that my wife and I would listen to. You gotta side with the people who like good music.

Anyway, this morning at 6am, I hear the neighbor below me blasting Amy Winehouse (which is much better than Michael Jackson), but so loud, that it sounded as though someone was using our stereo out in our very own living room. Then, we heard a blood curdling scream. That, woke us right up! We got nervous and I just looked over at Madelene and said, “This can’t be happening.” I wasn’t sure if someone was hurting her or if she was just having a complete meltdown. Her boyfriend hasn’t been around in days, so who was in the apartment with her at 6am? We heard loud banging and crying, as another song started to play. We only heard her and nobody else.

I would have called the police but here’s my dilemma: is she having a meltdown because she is going through a breakup, so she blasted the music to drown out her cries?

But before I could make my decision, someone beat me to it. A patrol car came racing into our parking area and two police officers came running upstairs. They banged on the door very loudly. I was peeking out my window and had seen my neighbor adjacent from me walk downstairs and “pretend” to get something out her car. Then, more officers arrived and she had asked what was going on, but they couldn’t give her the full story.

So, it is 9:15 and they are still in the apartment for whatever reason. No bodies were taken out, nor was anyone arrested...so it seems. I’m guessing she had a complete nervous breakdown and they’re assisting her with whatever. God only knows. Now I feel bad for having sound wars with her, but the sad part was, she was really having sound wars with the neighbor under her, and a war within herself.

Killing Two Birds By Getting Stoned

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Wed, 13 May 2009 12:11:52 PDT

Everyone’s crunching down, saving money or trying to steer clear of the luxuries they once dabbled in every so often, or more often than not. Some people are feeling the pangs of the economy and other people, well, not so much. I’ve had to cut down on certain things to increase the bulge in my wallet, but gradually, it does look like things are getting better.

Dad insists he’s going to quit smoking. Dad’s 72 years old. He’s been smoking since he was born. From four packs of cigarettes to zilch? He and my mom used to have cigarettes shipped to their house by the Indians who didn’t tax them. Now, even their price is too high.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me! You crazy or sumptin’? Nine dolliz’ a pack?” my father welps over the phone to his little stogy dealer. “It’s like a goddam car payment, yanno? Ah fuggedaboudit’!”

With my father’s promise of quitting and my anticipation of walking into their house without having an asthma attack, my mother is still hunching under the microwave, leaning on top of the stove smoking the last of her cigarettes, as the clogged vents from bacon grease are sucking up whatever smoke it can. I smelled the smoke as soon as I walked in. My asthma started kicking up and I didn’t have my inhaler or anything to help me.

“Oh you can’t possibly smell this. It’s going up into the vents, Deb. It’s the pollen that's bothering you. You want a Benadryl?”

I love my mom. She’s just clueless. Just by her saying that, I let out this huge wheezy laugh and told her it was ok, I was just going outside to get some air. But the coughs sounded more like a mule in heat, so I had to leave before dinner was served. I felt bad, but had to go before I went into a full fledge attack.

My mom comes outside and comes out with, “We’re getting pipes.”
“Pipes?”
“Yeah, we’re going to smoke tobacco out of pipes now.”
“Why?” 
“It’s cheaper.”
“Isn’t it still tobacco?”

I told her, “The hell with it - buy pot, it’s cheaper and at least it’ll give you a high and relieve all of your pain.” She looked over at my father for approval. They can kill two birds with one stone by smoking pot, quitting cigarettes, and not buying all of those jugs of Carlo Rossi.

Problem solved.

Thank me later.

A New Start

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Wed, 13 May 2009 12:08:23 PDT

Such things are immaterial: an old lamp that used to sit on my night stand as a teenager growing up that now sheds light upon my office desk and a picture frame given to me by a former friend. There are two antique ships that are hanging on my hallway wall, to remind me how long my parents had them up on their wall at one time. Some things are sentimental and others are just things I’ve brought with me on my way towards the next chapter in my life. Most things in this apartment are new, fresh, without reminders of ‘a time when’. I have had to rid of many things I had owned in order to set my place as “a new start”.

Mere objects: simple things like furniture, books or coffee mugs given by someone else that was in your past can conjure up many emotions. Depending on how that person has affected your life, the object may bring certain feelings up to the surface. This time last year I had to purge of many of my belongings that were given to me by other people, so that it no longer haunted me. The sentimental value had deflated into a pile of ashes that have been blown away. Sorrowful, dark, demeaning: feelings that place a certain type of darkness around the object at hand. Pure rubbish.

The wonderful objects I do have hold memories of love, happiness, friendship and sharing. My furniture: memories of friends coming over, my first apartment with Madelene, guests crashing upon our huge leather sofa and so many great nights of watching movies and falling asleep upon Madelene’s lap. These memories are precious to me. Our coffee table has held so many nights of sitting on the floor Japanese style eating take out food and playing many games of scrabble. I have written my first book on this coffee table because I didn’t have an office back then. This table means the world to me. It never leaves. An old rocking chair has traveled with me through my stages of life. It belonged to my parents, but my grandma and mother used to read me stories until I fell asleep in their arms. That chair will always be with me. Many guests come over and sit in it - it’s their favorite spot.

Most framed photographs were taken by me. They are memories of where my wife and I shared some wonderful times at. One of my favorites is hanging up in my dining room. The frame belonged to a former friend, but I ripped up the old photo because it was too negative - she was negative - it had a very dark feel to it and so I replaced it with a photo I had taken of a place where my wife and I used to sit, have coffee and talk for hours. I call it, “My Little Venice”.

Sometimes to get over certain chapters of your life, you have to rid of everything that reminds you of it. And if you cannot do that, because these are objects that you desperately need, then change your entire place around to give it a different feel.

A feel of a new beginning.
A new start.

Same Opinions = A Boring World

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Tue, 12 May 2009 10:41:26 PDT

There are people who write and there are people who aren’t able to express their feelings onto ‘paper’. Maybe it’s not about being “able” to write or express themselves; maybe it’s more about fear. Have you ever come across a person who writes poetry and you ask to see their work and they get all shy? What about blogs that keep getting deleted by the author? People are so afraid to get it all out there and the one word that comes to mind is: vulnerability. Nobody wants to be critiqued or ridiculed for what they think, what they feel or how they express themselves with words. They hate rejection - we all hate rejection, but if we don’t receive the criticism we need, then how do we become better writers or artists?

Opinions are like assholes - everyone has one. Why let a few bad eggs ruin your ability to be brilliantly open and creative? Not everyone is going to like what you write or do artistically. And the truth is: that’s okay. But who can say that they can keep pushing through after all that’s said and done? Can you continue to write, paint, sing or act after getting constantly put down? Or, does it take one special person to say something derogatory about your work to have you sink your head into the sand? Whatever, whoever - you just have to keep pressing on.

Remember also, that some of the criticism you receive can be stemmed from jealousy. There are crazy people out there that don’t have to necessarily know who you are, who can become extremely jealous of your work. Let them slander your name against the wall for everyone to see, but what other people are seeing is a spiteful, jealous and resentful person who is inferior of you. Don’t get me wrong, there are going to be complete honest critiques and judgements made about your work, but always try to see the logic in it all. Take in what you can, learn from it and throw the rest of the negativity away.

Look at Miss California. She stated she believed that marriage should be between a man and a woman. All gays and lesbians around the world bashed her up against a bloody pulp. You know what though? I have a ton of respect for her to get up there and be completely honest about her opinion. This is a beauty pageant, not a presidential election. She could have been vague and said something everyone wanted to hear, but she stood up for what she believed in and what she was brought up to believe what was wrong and right. Who are we to judge her? We call her “intolerant”, “a bigot”, “judgmental” -- when it was just an opinion and belief she had. Oh what a terrible person! She is not intolerant or a bigot. She is a person who believes differently. I think the LGBT community should practice what they preach if they’re so desperately seeking acceptance.

Take everything with a grain of salt in life, because one opinion is not the be all end all. If we all shared the same opinions and beliefs, this world would be a boring place to live in.

EDIT: "Prejean later announced that she'll be launching a campaign opposing gay marriage with the National Organization for Marriage." --read more. Now, it's one thing to state your opinion to the world, but it's another to fight for what other people believe to be true. Why put so much effort into preventing two people who love one another to not be able to marry? Why not focus on yourself - your life? Why can't you just state your opinion and have it be final? Why do they go out of their way to try to make other people's lives miserable? That came back to bite me in the ass, huh?

His Last Cigarette

deb@debrapasquella.com (Deb) — Fri, 08 May 2009 06:51:20 PDT

Usually at around 7-8 pm in the evening, the same man across the street comes outside of his apartment to sit out on the stoop and smoke a cigarette. He’s probably in his late 30’s, receding blondish hairline, attractive face and slim build. I can see him sitting there, arms folded upon his bended knees, deep in thought. Sometimes I wonder if he just needs to get away from his wife and family or if he’s not allowed to smoke in his apartment. Other times, I think he’s most likely hiding the fact that he still smokes while promising the wife he had quit a long time ago. Whatever the reason may be: this is his time. Maybe this is his only time to just sit in peace and stare out into space thinking about what could have been or what should have been, or even, how very lucky he is right now. The last option is usually not the case.

I find myself doing the same thing right outside my own deck. I stare out into space, but my thoughts are full of gratitude. I don’t have much, but what I do have is worth all the gold in the world to me. I’ve always wanted a wife who I could call my best friend. I’ve always wanted to live in a busy community right in the center of everything. I don’t prefer living in seclusion. I did it all my life. It was beautiful, but not for me.

I think about my past and how it has helped me grow and learn so I could become a better person today. I’m still not there yet, and still have so much to learn. I’m thankful for every single person that has come in and out of my life - even if they are no longer with me. It’s nice to know there was a ‘time when’ we used to share our time together. I prefer to look at the positive side of every relationship and friendship I have ever had. What if I didn’t go through this or that-- would I be different today? If that didn’t happen to me, what would my life be like right now? I’m a firm believer in the cliche that everything happens for a reason. It’s not a cliche - it’s a fact, in my opinion...which could be an oxymoron altogether.

Think about your life: where would you be right now if you hadn’t gone through a few of your most challenging times? All of the trials and struggles we go through are all to help us develop better character. Do you believe that or do you just get angry at God or the universe for giving you a bad hand?

Post traumatic stress is very common among many people. Some people have it and don’t even know it. Our bodies protect us - it’s the fight or flight response that enables us to hang in there the best we could. People handle and cope with things differently, depending on their fight or flight responses. You may ask yourself, “How can he or she do that to me?” or “how dare he or she say that to me?” Whatever the reasons are, it’s the way they cope with it all. To lash out is the fight response. To ignore you and flee is the flight response. To do both is a very confusing response.

Sometimes we don’t get closure. That’s “okay”. We don’t need closure in order to wish someone well and to move on. I had to learn later on in life. I’m glad I did because I’m content knowing that my prayers and well wishes are received, regardless if they don’t have a clue I’m doing just that. I have faith in God and my thoughts, words, prayers, heartfelt cries all go to Him. I don’t look to other people to handle my strife any longer. I don’t expect anything anymore from anyone. So, I sit out on my deck on a warm evening and think how incredibly lucky I am to have gotten to this stage of my life: acceptance and contentment. Contentment, not being a negative word, but being a word of confidence in my lot in life. I like where I am. Would I love to improve? There is always room for improvement. I’m working on it.

While sitting on my deck, watching my neighbor smoke his last cigarette, I said a prayer that while he was staring out into space, he was also thanking God for his lot in life. I know the prayer was received - I have faith in that. And one day, maybe he’ll sense all of those prayers and well wishes were sent to him from a complete stranger that evening.