The Dream Machine

My husband gave me a new alarm clock for my birthday last week. There were several other gifts that I loved, but this one kind of rocked my world.

"Finally you won't have to smash the buttons anymore...AND you'll be able to see what time it is!" He was grinning ear to ear, proud of this gift, knowing this was something I had needed for a long time.

I hesitated.

Yes, my alarm clock had seen better days. Yes, sometimes the buttons called for back up reinforcement (thank you very much Sharpie pen cap). And yes, the digits on the little screen were getting hard for me to read in my old age...but I haven't had the heart to part with it.

I invested in the Sony Dream Machine in the summer of 1997 just before I headed off to college. I used my graduation money because I knew better than to ask my parents for a $100 alarm clock. I chose this one because it had a digital screen AND I could either wake up to the buzzer OR music. Bonus: I didn't have to guess what station it was on because again, it was digital, and I had total control. Score.

The Dream Machine has been next to my bed for 19 years. At times I've joked that this alarm clock is the one thing that's been with me for almost my entire adulthood (if you can count college as adulthood?!) Even my favorite pieces of jewelry haven't stuck around this long.

I think the look on my face gave it away...was I ready to pull the plug on the Dream Machine and replace it with a shinier, newer model? I felt conflicted. It might sound silly, but clearly I have an emotional connection to this alarm clock.

Memories flooded my heart...good ones and bad. The best moments of my life have been witnessed by this alarm clock, along with moments when my heart was breaking into a million pieces. The Dream Machine woke me up on the day my parents got divorced, the day I graduated from college, they day I packed up my life and moved to Georgia, my first day of school as a teacher, my wedding day in 2005, the day I started my own company, the day I become a mother, the day we buried my mother in law, the day I realized I was having a nervous breakdown, the day I knew I had to leave my marriage, my first day as a "single mom", the day I surrendered my life to God again, the day I felt like I could finally breathe again, the day we signed our book deal, the day I met my {now} husband Clay, the day I fell in love again...I could go on.

The Dream Machine has been through 19 years of dreams with me...some have worked out better than others. While I have grown through the tears and the joy, this little black box has stayed the same.

I had a completely different post planned for this week's blog, but for some reason I felt led to share this instead. Is it crazy to feel so connected to something that just plugs into a wall? Are my sentiments random and crazy or is there something in your life you've held on to, solely for the memories it holds?

I pulled the plug on Friday night. A shiny new alarm clock with big digital numbers and fancy buttons now sits next to my bed. I am ready to embrace this next phase of my life, finally letting go of something that I've held on to for so long. I know the next 19 years will be filled with wonderful new memories as I continue to dream.

As for the Dream Machine? I've retired it to my office...because it still works and you never know when you'll need back up :)

Stop... Hammer Time.

It's seems like 2016 has had certain things up it's sleeve for me...   

Exes.

Ex-Boyfriends, More Ex-Boyfriends, Ex-Careers, Ex-Parents {more on that later},
Ex-Wives / Ex-Girlfriends of my Ex-Boyfriends {these gals rock!!}

 Ex-Family Members I've Realized Put The Ole' in Asshole'

{I'm currently thinking about getting a trademark on that gem of a term},
AND MOST IMPORTANTLY Ex-Stories I have held on to for just a little too long...

Exes have been popping out of the wood work left and right, backwards and forwards, all with surprisingly positive reasons for assaulting me and my well-rehearsed story I've told about why I label them / it "EX". 

So I'm left wondering what on God's green earth is causing this sudden upheaval of my some-what apocalyptic past all within the past four months of 2016.  That same "past" I had hoped I had nicely swept under the rug so I could be left un-bothered to spin my story and move on as I saw fit.

Was I living in the Michael Jackson Thriller video in which the dead had been summoned to dance and moon walk their way back into and all over my heart as well as my present life as I knew it - just as they had in the past?  {btw Best.  Video.  Ever.  I might possibly be okay with this}

Was my sign of Pisces not only in retrograde, but possibly stuck in reverse retrograde zipping me 180mph backwards faster than I ate a jumbo bag of Twizzlers last night towards finally making me confront and deal with what was left, well, undone?

It was as if the Universe decided that in order for me to truly move forward I had to visit my past,

get out the ol' hammer, and finally put some nails in a coffin {or seven}.  

Those stories I created which left open lids and equally as open mouths once I told them

needed to be nailed down and buried for good.

 Stories I have spun and spewed more times than a 

Starbucks Moccamaster Machine 

spits out heaven in a cup on any given morning in suburbialand. 

Stop.... Hammer Time.

Not going to lie here, not even for the sake of "looking" good.  

At first I was semi-flattered all these Ex - fill in the blanks were appearing out of thin air.  Just as all of us are when an "Ex" anything contacts or finds it's way back to us for a good purpose.  It's as if the stale breadcrumb trail we haphazardly laid down by not putting the last nail in the coffin, like we knew we should have, had finally been scooped up and low and behold there we were "found".

And being found, you have to admit, besides feeling a teensy bit like flattery, gives the overwhelmingly large feeling of a semi-sorta validation. In some shape or ego fluttering form.

For me it was:

Validation that my father walked away 33yrs ago and stayed away because of his "issues".
 Validation that I hadn't lost it {whatever the hell "it" was}.
Validation that I was an ex-girlfriend worth reaching back out to.  

Validation that I was right to leave or that they shouldn't have let me go.   

Validation that certain family members truly deserved to take a long walk off a short pier.

Validation that I didn't just dream I used to have a super big career.

Validation that even though I had a couple of sucky Ex-Boyfriends, 

I was considered friendship material by their Ex-Wives or other Ex-Girlfriends they also had

{helllloooo... that might be the most flattering of them all!}.

Validation AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, that all of the past "stories" I had created 

belonged exactly where they came from - the past - and my hammer hit each nail one by one

{finafreakinlutely}.

                                                                                                                                                            

 
Validation, validation, validation. Validation that we once were, and continue to be, worthy of affections and attentions, despite what has, had, or continues to happen.

And I ask you honestly...  Whenever an EX anything comes back into your life is there a "story" you have been telling yourself that you are hoping to validate or prove true?
Like when your Ex-Boyfriend / Husband admits he really did miss you but was too proud to admit?
GOOD :)  MY STORY WAS RIGHT!
Or that you were correct ten years back about them cheating on you?
BAD :(   MY STORY WAS TRUE!
Or how about getting recruited back into your old industry even though your vindictive Ex-manager said you would never again find work in the field again if you left?
GOOD :)  MY STORY WAS SPOT ON YOU JACKA#$!

It feels good to validate the story you have been telling for so long...  dare I say as good as dark chocolate and red wine on a Wednesday night {yes, that good}.

But if we stop, just for a minute, and put down the dark chocolate and red wine {geeez - just for a minute!!} what is the TRUE benefit of getting a validated story, WE made up, based on a couple of facts, that we interpreted based on OUR PERSONAL REALITIES...  {see where we are going here...?}

Move, slide your rump, just for a minute let's all do the bump, bump, bump.
{seriously, who doesn't love MC Hammer, who probably has some hammering to do himself...} 

Stop, Hammer time! 

 

I'd rather have my 7yr old poke a fork in my eye or mess up my 

once a month manicure than have to deal with the fact I should have just 

put the final nail in the coffin and buried it / them / whatever happened 

instead of letting the story I created run my life as I know it.  

{Both of those scenarios would cause both physical and mental agony for me}.

So if I'm offering you a solution to avoid your own Thriller video of sorts, I'd challenge you to make the phone call to who you left the last nail un-hammered for or write a letter and then burn it {responsibly over your sink or something!!!} letting the story go - for good this time.

Ohhhh, for example, say call your father that walked away 33yrs ago and didn't even speak to you at his own mother's funeral {a.k.a. Granma} last summer, because in reality YOU COULD HAVE SPOKE TO HIM ALSO...  That's right.  Most times the story we tell doesn't include you taking responsibility for your actions or choices.  Once and for all, put a nail in the proverbial coffin and bury the story you have told for years why he left you and your family for good.

Now doesn't that feel good knowing what "could have" or "should have" or "most likely could" no longer control your past, present, or future self?  They or it left for a reason.  Put the hammer on the nail and shut it close damn it!  Because if we trust in the Universe that is where it belongs - in our past.

Don't mess up your fabulous self by trying to validate or vindicate.  No good ever comes of this, especially to you...  Need an extra nail?  I have some extras you can borrow...

Love, V
{Valerie of The Ex-Wives}