in the midst of metamorphosis

Remember the movie Freaky Friday   in which the mother and daughter inhabit each others body and chaos ensues until, finally, they have a deeper understanding of the other? Anyone else feel like they are living that right now? No? Just me? Okay. I have been using this time of Covid-19 and quarantining ( I talk about that here ) to delve even deeper into this new direction that I am headed; to sift through the pieces that no longer serve me and to gather the ones that will; to draw closer to those that support my goals and to become aware of those who don't. My dreams are big and new and intimidating at times, and I am discovering a fresh determination welling up on the inside. This time has been good and necessary. And here is where the freaky friday reel begins to play, except there is no one else. Just the me before the corona virus and the me during. It's like I know who I was then, and I can see the shift into who I am now. and there is a gap that I am unsure of how t...

That night is shrouded in a dense, alcohol fueled fog. I remember most of it, but it is the feelings that stand out as markers throughout the experience. I cannot tell you what he looked like, but I can tell you how he made me feel. Comforted, accepted, whole, safe, wanted. I didn't know him at all. He showed up at a party. I was feeling sad, alone, insecure. He said all the right words, did all the right things. I had no reason to fear him. yet. I cannot tell you what his car looked like, but I can tell you that my intuition screamed at me the moment I was inside of it.   Get. Out! I ignored her, as I unfortunately do at times. Besides, the charm was still there - why would I worry? We talked and drove and I remember thinking, 'well maybe this night isn't a total bust'. I cannot tell you where we were, but I can tell you that fear was making her presence known. And when I asked to go back and he refused, she settled into the pit of my stomach. and some days, I...

As I was reading Brene Brown's latest book, Braving The Wilderness , this literally jumped off the page and into my heart. This explained my latest lesson perfectly. Let me rephrase it the way that my brain saw it : If spouses really want their loved one to show up, speak out, take chances, and innovate, we each have to create cultures where the other feels safe - where their belonging is not threatened by speaking out and they are supported when they make the decision to brave the wilderness, stand alone, and speak truth to bullshit.   I want to show up and speak out, with a transparency that begs for a deeper intimacy. I want to take chances and bring new ideas to our relationship that catapults us even higher. I want to be vulnerable and open and speak honestly. And I want all of those things for him as well. When I first met my hubby, I was fresh out of an abusive relationship. Like 3 weeks fresh. I was a walking mess of fear and insecurity. I didn...

The area reverberated with gunshots. Shell casings littered the floor. In the far corner, I felt trapped. Too many people lined the narrow room, preventing my escape. I wanted out. I needed out. I couldn't breathe. Uncontrollable fear was pushing its way to the surface. The room was cold. I was sweating. Tears were threatening to fall but I knew that that would be the action that would cause the dam to break. The tiny shred of control that I had would then be lost and chaos would ensue. I knew what was happening. I knew that I was in the grip of a panic attack. I just didn't know why. and at that moment, I didn't care why. I knew that I had to restrain these feelings, compose myself. Long minutes passed by while the rest of my class continued with their target practice. By the time my turn came, I was collected enough to shoot again. I had elected to participate in this gun safety course. I own a gun. I had shot guns before. So, why was this happening now? A...

What am I going to do? I'm sitting in the office waiting for the results of the test. My mind is racing. My palms are sweating. Heck, I'm sweating all over. I'm scared. and nervous. and feel like throwing up. Or is that just a symptom? I'm making promises to god, which is pretty funny since I haven't talked to him in awhile. Not since the last time I needed help. What am I going to do? Time is dragging. Where is that nurse? Shouldn't she be back by now? Is that a good sign or a bad one? I need to know the answer. No wait, I don't want to know (yes, I do). I can't bury my head in the sand (or can I?). I can't pretend like this isn't happening (right?). I have to know one way or the other. Yes or no. Positive or negative. What am I going to do? This is crazy. How did I get here? I'm too young for this. I'm just a teen. This only happens to other people. This can't be happening to me (can it?). I did what I was supposed to do (or didn...

At the beginning of this year(2010), I heard someone speak about the Golden Buddha encased in plaster (google it if you don't know the story). This post details my struggle to rid myself of my own plaster encasing in order to be the me that I was always intended to be.   Year after year. Layer upon layer. It continues to build up. More, more, more. Outsiders contribute some, with their demands, expectations, thoughtless words, rejection. More, more, more. I can't help but add to it myself, in a hopeless attempt to preserve the vulnerable core. More, more, more. The plaster shell is rock hard. It has to be. How else will I protect myself? Inside, I hide, unsure if the real me even wants to venture out. What is waiting for me? The unknown can be frightening, intimidating. If I stay here, I have a chance at protection, at anonymity. But, locked inside, I am growing weaker, emaciated. I want to kick out, break loose, take off these bindings, tear down the wall...

The first time. It was not what I expected. I mean, if anyone really has an expectation of what it might be like. I was aware that the day would come. I was naive, but I also saw the signs. It was a progression of events. Events leading up to that time. The first time. So many feelings, so many emotions rushing through me. Disbelief. Mistrust. Sadness. Anger. Defeat. Brokenness. Had that really just happened? Did the man I love just hit me?  The first time. It was just the first of many more times. Always with the same results. I apologized. I changed. I took responsibility. He felt justified. The first time. Today's Sherri would love to go back to that day and tell that Sherri, "You are smart, and beautiful, and worthy. You deserve to be treated as such. You cannot save him. You can only save yourself. Believe in yourself. Love yourself. Walk away now . This will not be the only time, this will just be  the first time ." *****************************...