The woman who keeps breaking her own heart

I keep finding unique ways to break my own heart.

Photo from Bigfoto

My heart got too attached too quickly, which scared me too much. I felt too deeply, too much lust, love, infatuation. So I cracked myself open too soon, too intensely. It was a unique way to push a really cool, open guy away. 

I have managed to break my own heart this week, mainly by not being able to step back and allowing things to naturally unfold. It would have been a beautiful mystery to unravel together.

We were both very honest about who we were; it was refreshing and quite addictive. The way we touched, how he kissed me. His touch was firm and gentle; he knew intuitively how to caress me.

I’ve been deprived of kisses and a certain type of physical connection for a while, and it shook my core too much. [Besides being divorced for 10 years, I had been married to someone who didn’t need physical affection like I did. He didn’t like hugs or kisses, so I have spent the majority of my life without affection.]

Maybe a part of me felt like he was keeping me at arm’s length emotionally. My hope is to find someone who is willing to just take a risk, and be willing to open their heart and mind to any possibility. [None of us can predict what could happen if two people are able to let go and trust. It could be a thing of great beauty, intensely sensual and pure bliss.]

I believe we are all works in progress. Each a bit flawed, with our own imperfections, flaws, and uniqueness. Yet, that is what makes a person attractive, their uniqueness.

I really do have a good life. This week, I’ll need to be extra gentle and remind myself of all of the beauty, sweetness and good here in my corner of the world. At least I was willing to take a chance, and there are beautiful lessons in this.

Sometimes you need to ask the Universe, what do I need to learn today?

When you think you don’t have love in your life, just look around. There are people who love and care about you. You have to be willing to let go of the façade of being strong, of not needing anyone.

Photo from Bigfoto

Last night, I’ve felt vulnerable, that I wouldn’t find a man who would accept me as a friend and lover. When I felt vulnerable in any way in the past, I would keep to myself. Growing up, I was told that I wasn’t valuable, and that I was “bothering people”. So, I always kept my real self hidden from others, including myself. So many years of this bad habit is difficult to unravel, but I’m really learning how to let people in.

Yesterday afternoon, I visited my daughters a bit. One of them gave me extra hugs, as though she knew I was feeling a bit out of sorts. I have reflected before how being a parent really teaches you so much about love and life, and I'm truly one of the luckiest moms in the world to have these three Graces in my life.

Last night, I worked on the computer at the local meeting place, listening to others’ conversations, and feeling some ambiguous regret for being impulsive with a new fellow on Saturday night.

At 9pm, I went home. As soon as I entered my apartment, I started crying. I was sad and angry. Angry at the double standard that is generally present in Midwestern society: women who sleep with guys too soon are automatically shunned, blown off and disregarded by the guy. You automatically lose the chance to be someone who could be a friend (or more).

As a woman and former erotica writer, this offends me deeply. [This is something I have to change in our society, for the sake of both men and women. It’s harmful for all of us, because it separates us from our humanity and kindness.] Women have sexual needs too (especially this woman who had been celibate for over 7 years after the divorce and who is generally very particular about who I’m attracted to).

I was also disappointed, because I really liked talking to this person. He is intelligent, witty, a self-described feminist, and was thoughtful before (and during) our physical connection on early Sunday morning. On deeper thought, I only accept being treated like the goddess that I am, and reject being treated like a Kleenex by anyone.

I started texting two female friends who I had been talking to earlier that evening. I admitted feeling rejected by him and vulnerable. Both of them said that I shouldn’t be alone and they came over to talk to me about how I'm feeling. We talked about men, women and dating, and here is a small sampling of was discussed:

Dating is tough. In fact, in these times people don't really date anymore; there are no clear line of communication between men and women. With cell phones, texting and email, people are less interactive in deeper, vital way. We all struggle in feeling alone, when we forget we are all a part of the greater fabric of this society. There is a real gift in living in a small town; you can really forge a deeper bond with people if you choose to.

One friend said: "You don't need advice; you know what you want." And my other friend reminded me of the following: Just keep being open to life, because opportunity will arrive when you least expect it. Yes, there's always a chance of being hurt, but that is what makes us stronger.

I had a few introspective moments in this: I am truly fortunate to have such incredible, kind, incredibly insightful and caring friends. Each of us is love, but we stand in our own ways when we forget that. We are each magical, but we live in a world that distracts us from our own magic.

There is no such thing as regrets, because each moment is something we learn and grow from, as long as we are open to receiving the message. As I just heard from the universe, we all need to step into our own power, and own the ripples we put out into the world.

To a beautiful mystic cleric:

I feel as though you want me to feel badly for wanting someone to be my friend and lover. I just want a strong foundation to build a real, vital and beautiful relationship - whether it's friendship, as lovers, or more.

Why should either of us settle for anything less?

I see the world as an incredible journey and one where we each need to be kind to each other and to raise the energy around us. Life is unkind enough, so why not try every effort to be kind to each other?

I feel that we awaken something in each other. Do you feel too?

When a person becomes awakened, sometimes darkness is stirred. We each have to face our inner darkness, and heal the past hurts. I refuse to blame others for any hurt I have; it is my responsibility to heal myself. I can’t heal you, for the only one who can do that is you.

My body ached for you last weekend. The longing has been increasing since Thursday evening. Another weekend I spend aching for your touch, your kisses, while you shut me out. 

Last night I felt the most pure connection with you. It was only a few moments, but it was beautiful, true and pure. It didn't resemble any conjuring or cheap magic tricks.

The writing on all the wall is this: You are not emotionally available, if you keep shutting the door to your heart.

Photo by bigfoto.com

I will go within, and work on healing my heart. I know I am love. I am so grateful for all of the good people and good surroundings in my life. I need to let go and let God. The universe will bring someone into my life if it’s meant to be. Life is magic regardless.

“Cracked Ice” - Part 8.5

“CRACKED ICE” by Leora Tozer © 2013 Part 8.5 {Week 2, Monday evening}

I kept busy with the letters and didn’t try to think about the meeting tonight. As I was putting things away for the day, I wondered who we’d meet and which restaurant we’re going to. Henry said a note taker was needed for the business dinner with a writer, since the movie studio was in a hurry for the brothers to make their next movie. I made sure to have a couple of pens and a notepad in my satchel.

It was after 6:30pm when he parked his car on Vine Street. We walked by a gift shop* next to the Brown Derby. I stood on my tip-toes and tried to peek in the window, but couldn’t see much since it was closed for the evening.

“Are you planning on breaking in after dinner?” Henry asked.

“No. Have you ever thought about owning a store?” I asked him.

“Not really,” He smiled. “I like performing too much. Why? What type of store do you see me owning?”

I thought a moment as we walked, “A bookstore. You could write and talk with authors.”

“And what would you be doing?” he teased.

“You mean after the bookkeeping’s done? I’d be in the back typing out the next great American novel,” I replied.

“Do you think anyone would read it?” Henry inquired.

“Who knows? I just want to write. To have something completed would be fulfilling enough for me.” I answered. “Of course, if a few people find enjoyment with it, that’s a bonus.”

We walked into the Brown Derby. While we were waiting to secure our table, I excused myself to freshen up in the bathroom. When I washed my hands in the bathroom, I saw Carole Lombard walking in. I tried not to stare; I didn’t want to appear star-struck by anyone.

I applied some lipstick, quickly dried my hands, and walked out of the bathroom. Henry and I went to the 2nd level to sit in one of the booths. After we settled in and I was looking at the menu, the maître d came and brought a message to Henry.

Henry looked at the paper and stuck it in his jacket pocket. “Looks like its just dinner for the two of us. The writer canceled,” Henry said.

“Well, we don’t have to stay if the writer not coming. I’m sure you have better things to do than have dinner with me,” I replied.

“Maybe I’ll have better things to do after having dinner with you,” Henry replied with a wink.

I quickly retreated to my menu to gather my thoughts. Was there a writer or is that just a story? Did he plan this little excursion just to take me out? And why did Art know about it? I had to stay to find out what’s going on. Besides, I was happy for the chance to get to know Henry better away from the office.

“So many choices. What are you having?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Wait and see,” he replied.

The waiter came in a few minutes to take our order.

Henry looked at me and stated, “I suppose you're going to tell him who I am.”

I looked at the waiter with big eyes and stated, “This is Mr. Henry J. Jones. I’m Ms. Smith, his assistant. We really appreciate being able to eat here tonight with so many important folks.”

Henry looked surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting this type of introduction. The waiter smiled and asked, “What would you like to order?” I ordered Chicken broth with homemade noodles with a small salad and Henry ordered a Derby Deluxe.

We talked while waiting for our food. He told me about all of the years he had to be on the road with his brothers and how he likes to be here in Hollywood, because he can go home every night. Of course, he doesn’t plan on settling here, because New York is home.

I told him how I only planned to be here a short while. {Fortunately, the Time Travel Agency had me prepare and practice my back story. I was surprised how easily I could tell it.}

I was working temporarily in Hollywood to send money back home to my kids in the Midwest. I had been divorced 5 years, and but had lost my job when my employer’s business closed.

“That would be hard to be away from the kids,” Henry sympathized.

“It is, but I know they are in good hands. Their grandparents are with them every day. I’m really fortunate they are there to help,” I said.

“So, your parents?” Henry asked.

I shook my head, “No, my ex-husband’s parents. They are good folks.”

The waiter came and brought our food, and I welcomed a break in the conversation. I didn’t mean for the conversation to get so serious.

I tasted the soup; it was homemade and had incredible flavor. Most food back home is over processed, salty and not fresh. I’d forgotten how food should properly taste.

Henry thought about what she said as he watched Leora with his peripheral vision. He didn’t know many people who liked their in-laws, much less their ex-in-laws. Something is very different about her. He wasn’t used to women who liked to read, or who didn’t seem impressed by the Hollywood glitz. He’d have to wait and see how the next few days would go at the office; ‘most likely,’ he thought, ‘I’ll write her off like the rest of her kind.’ After we finished our dinner and he paid the bill, we were walking out of the Derby.

Henry asked, “Do you want to go to Field’s house for a drink?”

“Oh, I don’t drink alcohol,” I replied.

“Don’t you have any bad habits at all?” he asked.

“You mean, besides slurping my soup?” I responded.

“The quietest slurper in the west,” he answered.

“Tell me one bad habit.”

“How about two? Snoring and chocolate,” I replied.

“Those don’t count. Come on,” he insisted.

"Maybe when you know me better, you’ll tell me,” I said. After all, I knew his reputation of putting people in their place. His wit on and off screen, was legendary.

“OK then, I’ll drive you home,” he offered.

“Thanks for offering, but no. I like riding the street car home. It’s fun to people watch,” I answered. I thanked him for dinner and said I’d see him in the office tomorrow.

While Henry drove home, he partly wished he was driving Leora to his home. However, he knew it wasn’t the right time. He wanted to make sure, both of himself and of her. Besides, every time he teases her, he feels charged up. This was a new experience, having his mind attracted to a woman just as much as his body is.



     *There was a Cantor Gift Shop next to Brown Derby, but uncertain if it was there in 1932.

Cracked Ice - Part 8

“CRACKED ICE” by Leora Tozer © 2013 Part 8 {Week 2, Monday} 

On Sunday evening after supper, the Temp Agency called me and stated that I should be at the Archers' office by 8 am. I had the realization that Ms. Roy must have suggested to them that I have Friday off, so I could have a few days to adjust to this experience. The time off helped me feel more grounded. 

Through the reflection and rest during the weekend, I felt reconnected to myself. I felt confident as I walked into the office Monday morning. I sat at my desk and set my satchel on the floor next to the desk. I found a letter to work on and started typing. Henry rushed out of his office to find out who was making the noise. 

“Oh, so you decided to join us this morning,” Henry remarked to Leora, while rocking back and forth on his heels. “What made you think you could skip Friday?” 

I looked at him calmly. “The Temp Agency told me to stay home on Friday. I thought you asked them to get rid of me. Imagine my surprise when I was called to come back.” 

Henry remembered the friend who suggested using the TTTA had stated that sometimes the Agency would be unpredictable, but it was worth it due to having a highly qualified employee. 

“Well, I suppose you can continue working this time. Next time, I might not be so understanding,” Henry stated. 

I smiled, “Do you think there’s a whole line of goofy people willing to work in these conditions?” 

“What conditions?” Henry asked. 

“Work being impeded by card games, chair races and other distractions,” I claimed. Of course, I wasn’t going to mention that my main distraction was standing right in front of me. 

“I’ll need to supervise you more closely to make sure you get your work done,” Henry suggested with a smile. He looked at Leora for a moment, thinking of a few different ways he’d like to supervise her. He was about to mention one way when Leo barged into the office. 

“Hey,” Leo exclaimed. “She’s back! See Henry, even though you tried, you didn’t scare her away.” 

I smiled at Leo. “Good morning. I’ve been through scarier things than last week and survived.” Henry stepped back into his office as I talked with Leo. 

“Yah, you’re a smart cookie,” Leo stated. “Much smarter than Henry’s used to.” 

“Do you want some coffee?” I asked Leo. “Sure,” Leo said. 

I walked into to the next room, where there was a small aluminum coffee pot on a hotplate. I found a white coffee cup, poured some and brought it to Leo in his office. 

Leo smiled, “Glad you’re back. Henry was extra cranky on Friday.” 

“With the Temp Agency telling me to stay home, I didn’t know I’d be missed here,” I answered. 

“No problem. Work any day should be optional,” Leo stated. 

 It was strange how everything fell into a comfortable pattern. In the morning, I prepped the letters, organized things, and answered the phone. The morning went by fast. When it was noon, I went outside and read a book while eating a sandwich. After lunch, I went back to work on the letters. Occasionally, I found myself staring at Henry’s office door, wondering what was keeping him so busy. 

On Monday afternoon, Art walked into the office. He noticed Benson was lost in thought, staring at Henry’s office door. Art didn’t think too much of it until he walked into Henry’s office. Henry was leaning on his desk and staring at the office door, but shook himself out of a trance when Art walked in. 

Art smiled to himself as he decided to have some fun with Henry. “I’m going to ask Benson out for dinner tonight. Where should I take her?” 

Henry looked at his brother, not sure he could believe what he just heard. “You mean Leora, out there?” Henry pointed towards the door. 

“Yah,” Art smiled. 

Henry’s mind was quick. “I’ll need her to take notes at a dinner meeting with a writer tonight,” Henry stated. “You’ll have to go to your little black book for a dinner partner.” 

“Oh. No problem,” Art said, feigning slight disappointment. “I’ll have to go make some calls.” 

Art walked out of Henry’s office and shut the door behind him. He started whistling, but stopped after he passed her desk. “Hey Benson,” Art said, smiling. “Hope you’ll enjoy dinner tonight.” He thought she looked puzzled. 

I was making edits on a letter when Art said something about enjoying dinner. I didn’t know what he meant, and didn’t get a chance to ask him before he was out the door. 

A moment later, Henry stuck his head out of his office. “Leora, can you work tonight? I need you with for a dinner meeting with a writer.” 

I looked at him and answered, “Yes Mr. Archer.” 

He looked at me slyly and whispered, “Weren’t you going to call me Henry…or Tiger?” He went back into his office to make a phone call.

Just a friendly neighborhood gathering

As a divorced woman in a small town, it’s a rare event for me to be invited anywhere. So, of course when the girls and I were invited to a neighborhood potluck, I RSVPed. It should be a positive experience and an opportunity for the girls to expand their (as well as my) social circle.

The girls stuck by me as we ate. “I don’t know anybody here,” my eldest complained. “I don’t know many people here either, but that’s how you get to meet people,” I replied.

Later on, after my encouragement, the twins went and introduced themselves to another girl close to their age. My eldest later decided to play with them, since she wasn’t interested in video game playing.

I wandered over to a table of adults, who welcomed me to sit down. I spent some time listening. One of the guests talked to me briefly and the host did go out of his way to say a few encouraging words.

Later on, the hostess stated to a friend her theory that children of artists see art differently than other children, since they see the business side of it. That may be true, but in my mind they would also see the fulfillment of creating, which most people in our world have lost. 

Just a sideline into “who is an artist”: Last night made me understand what Sinclair Lewis was saying in “Work of Art.” Art can be in any profession, as long as the person has passion, conviction and soul-fulfillment in what they do. One does not have to have the word “Artist” stamped to their forehead to be one. {Regarding Lewis’ work, don’t take this comment as a recommendation to read “Work of Art” unless you want to get lost into the minutia details of hotel management and hollandaise sauce.}

The kids all played and enjoyed themselves. At one point, the group of boys ran outside to a nearby park. The adults all mused, “Boys will be boys.” 

I noticed the tree swing keeping busy the whole evening. Several boys were swinging on it wildly. The adults didn’t seem to notice. Later on, one of my twins was on there, twisting around. I walked over and told her to not twist the chain, it could wreck the swing. I went back to the table. After a short while, I heard the hostess state, “Somebody should parent that child.” Sure enough, it was one of the twins. 

I walked over and told the girls we needed to go, since she didn’t listen to me regarding how she was swinging on the swing. My eldest defended her sisters stating, “The boys were doing that earlier.” The twins were merely entertaining their new friends by creating skits and filming it with their new cameras. {In typing this sentence, the true absurdity of the situation astounds me; the artist’s yard is not some place to play wildly and create skits.}

Of course, being raised by my parents, last night I was embarrassed and this morning I was slightly ticked off. Now, I see the humor.

I realize I need to offer others understanding and patience. This mother in a few years will have a better understanding of the repression girls go through in the local school system. She’ll have to deal with things such as I and other moms have. My girls coming home from kindergarten upset; the boys said that they couldn’t be superheroes because “there are no girl superheroes.” So many times girls aren’t called on in math class (even though my eldest is the best math student in her grade). The middle school girl who asked for a flyer to sign up for baseball and the male teacher refuses to give her one. {Fortunately, she was smart enough to outwait him and pull one from the garbage.}

Life isn’t fair sometimes. Life can be repressive for girls and women. I’m looking for ways to encourage all of us (no matter our race, creed or gender) to build each other up, and encourage peace, love and creativity. It’s time to take down the barriers. Who’s with me?