Wide awake...

I have had a dream, over and over, for years.
It wasn't always clear what happened in the dream...but something was preempting waking from my rest with my arms reaching for the ceiling, left arm extended and the right arm running it's fingers gently up and down.

A light touch, or a tickle, soothing and warm.

I was attributing this to some sort of nervous twitch or a longing to be touched in a gentle way and then the dream clarified itself.

I woke clear and feeling a deep rooted longing to fall back into that place.

I have a fantasy in my REM.

It's likely not entirely a fantasy, but it's felt like one juxtaposed with the paralleled experiences I've had in the real world.

Behind closed eyes I dream of being safe in someone's arms.

The dream is simple.
I wear a short blue dress and no shoes.
He wears a grey shirt and tan slacks.
It is warm but i don't know where we are.

He smells like a man smells after he's been sleeping.
That smell that's hard to describe. That you bury you head into your pillows to remember when he isn't there and can't seem to get rid of when he's gone forever.

I smell like grass...or spring. Fresh and light. Earthy.
Sort of how I'd think I'd smell from what I see in the mirror.

Fresh. Light. Earthy.

All that happens is a hug.

I settle my head into his left chest with my hands snuggly interlaced in front of my chest, elbows down towards his belly.

His arms hold me with strength.

Just a safe, unmoving hold.

A hold that has touch and warmth and safety and love.
                          Deep, quiet, real love.

I stand still and close my eyes.

This is when the faces flash. 5 or so, none I recognize.
                   The last is fuzzy.
The prior are so clear that I feel if I saw them walking down the street, i'd say hello as if they are old familiar friends.

I open my eyes back in the hug and lift my head, look up at him, catching the shadow of a face blocked out by the brightness of the sunshine.  I squint and turn my head down towards his shoulder.
My eyes close again.

I wake up, reaching.

It's that deeper subconscious yearning for someone who has the strength to hold onto me and let me just stay.

It's so hard to believe in that possibility when everyone appears to be running away.

Too busy.
Too wounded.
Too superficial.
Too lost.
Too mistrusting.
Too indignant.
Too driven.
Too damaged.
Too old.
Too young.
Too different.
Too self-absorbed.
Too self-reliant.
Too unfamiliar.
Too scared.

It's possible still, and so, I believe.

This surfacing into my consciousness I begin to see it's only a matter on time.

Today I feel calm and completed in my past.
Today I feel ready for my future.
Today, in the present, is a day filled with awakening
      preceeding a future that might just be filled with
               Spring days, bare feet, blue dresses,
                           and a man in grey Tees that smells like it's morning.

Because I'm letting you go

"I've never had a friend like you", he says.

"Well, dear, it's because we are in love."

"Yes, that's true."

"But you're getting married."

"That's true too."

So it goes between us two.  Misfits until we found each other. and then you went off and I stayed and played and asked you what it all meant.

You reassured me that it meant that I hadn't found it yet.

But I had.

I was afraid of you.

You know my secrets.  I've washed my wellies in your dishwasher and I've fed your shoes to your dog.

I've stolen your girlfriend with every intention of making her feel insecure, with hopes she'd give up the thrown, next to you.

I wanted to sit there.

I'd never have to fix your collar or tell you you drank too much.
I'd never have to guess what you meant or what you were thinking, because you tell me.  You always have.

I don't regret a minute of knowing you, but I do regret all those times I thought I wasn't good enough for you.

You have horses in your backyard and a house in Morocco.

I have nothing.

You know how to give and receive and be present and loving.

I'm afraid of everyone.

You brought me flowers because I got my heart broken.  You told me I was the one everyone waits for.

I didn't believe you.

                                                       You stopped waiting.


You're going to marry her.
I'm going to be there to celebrate.
It'll be the first wedding where I don't even see the bride.

There's been 2.  2 men in the many who've made me realize that they do exist.

That love isn't all movies and fairytales.

That I'm lovable.

I did this though.  I pushed both of you away.
The first, I was young.  I didn't know what love meant.  I told myself he wasn't enough.

he wasn't.

but you are.

Maybe the 3rd time is the charm.  Maybe the next one who comes back to me after I tell him to leave will work.
Maybe then I'll stop quizzing and judging and creating all the reasons why this is doomed and I prefer to sleep alone.

Maybe then I'll find the strength to ask him to stay.

I missed you when you left.  Every thing I owned reminded me of you.  Every man with a good suit and a smashingly kept hairdo.  Every girl who looked happy made me imagine you.  Every one.  Every last one.

I didn't even realize I gave up then.

I did.

You are like light. You are like french macaroons with a cafe ole.

You are the love I never got to have.
And we would have been perfect.

It's time to move on.  It's time to believe again.  It's time to give up giving up.

You gave me that.  I realize all this because of you.
I love you more today than ever,
                    because I'm letting you go.

Because I'm just fine

Everybody knows there was a hurricane in NYC this past week...especially those of us who live here.  Everybody does not know that Audrey has been feeling a complete mess of late and, essentially incapable of a self-preserving thought, much less actually caring for and loving herself.

So it takes a natural disaster does it?
I suppose sometimes it does.

The fact is Audrey would love a break.
She's been creating all the things she can have in this world.
From nothing...not just Landmarked out "from nothing I am the possibility of..." crap, but actually from nothing.

This chick has made it.

So she's solo and struggling...there's no permanence in that.
She's fostering real bonds to take into the rest, the amazing future she's setting up.
She's growing to believe in her true beauty and her soul that tells it like it is.

So shut up if I hurt your feelings...you need a reality check.

Enough about me...because I'm fine.

It's amazing how people we care for, the ones that pushed us away, come out when the weather threatens us.
It's amazing how selfish people become.
It's amazing how much people want a pat on the back and a hug.

No it isn't...BECAUSE THEY DO, naturally.

I love New York.  I really do.

But why does it take this sort of horrible shit to bring us together?

We do care.
We are allowed to be selfish.
We all need a pat on the back...and a hug.

I walked through a dark and and desolate downtown Manhattan to and from the hospital this week.  On Friday morning, as I trudged over the Brooklyn Bridge into the newly rising sunlight warming up an otherwise tired, cold, and worn out southern point, a woman coming from the darkness caught my eye, smiled, and said, "Have a good day".

I will, thank you and I'll continue to pass this on and wish the same.

I've come to realize that, despite attempting to shed all remnant of my suburban skin, I've kept my most precious attribute.

I love people.

I trust them and I care for them and I see them in a way that suggests that there's good there.
There's always good.
In fact, it's the root of all of us, whether it's covered by cemented walls of bitterness and hostility, it's there, right at the center.

I make a lot of interesting choices about the people I try to get to.
      like a friggin' Mother Theresa half the time.

I want people to let out there good and let my good in.

I know I have to protect myself and I have to try to stay away from the ones who don't seem to have that in them.

Oh well.

I find it so hard to believe that they can't get there, that it's that difficult to let me in.

So, it did take a hurricane.

It took a hurricane to realize that I can do that and I can be there for people and reach out and go for those connections and, they may just turn away and that's fine.  It's no reason to stop, just a reason to say, "OK, that happened, looks like this one just needs me to be less aggressive and really probably needs a pat on the back and a hug even more than I do".

A heavy weight left me this week.  I started realizing a rejection really doesn't have ANYTHING to do with me, nor does it make me any LESS lovable.

It just means that sometimes we open our arms and people are too stuck in it and miss the chance to feel loved.

So I hopped in to help at a relief collection today and just enjoyed giving.  I'm going to keep this feeling.  There's no attachment to the result, to the thank you...to the acknowledgment.  It just feels good to give and to see a brick or two fall away from those New York accumulated walls we build.

God love you New York.  You're the toughest and most rewarding love I've got.

We'll get through.

AudreysThinking: Acknowledgement

AudreysThinking: Acknowledgement: It's time Audrey acknowledge herself. It's an interesting characteristic I see in a number of women I hold very dear. We're true and bold an...

Acknowledgement

It's time Audrey acknowledge herself. It's an interesting characteristic I see in a number of women I hold very dear. We're true and bold and exciting and successful, but we fail to acknowledge these things at the most pertinent of times.
It's interesting being a woman in Manhattan. There's a fine line that breaks a number of us and reduces us to the mere shells we inhabit.
When it comes to relationships, we're in a pool that exists nowhere else.

We wake up in the morning hopeful. We forgive and forget red flags that show us that we won't be able to be ourselves if we want to try and make love work. Then, we realize it doesn't work anyway.

That's not true.

It does.

It's a matter of owning who we are and being ourselves in the most trying of situations.

Professionally, we excel.

We hold our own in a way that astounds our suburban family and friends.
We work tirelessly to gain recognition in a man's world.

And we succeed.

Then we try for love.

We ignore that the men of Manhattan arrived here with the same goals and aspirations. They come here from places where school buses and soccer teams and family dinners are the norm. They come here from families who encourage, but haven't an inkling what it's like in a world where being good at something gets us nowhere.

We have to be great.

Women prove themselves and find solace in the accomplishment.

Men prove themselves and feel an emptiness.

It's a generalization. I know.

But I speak from the next decade. The 30 somethings.

I speak from the lot of us who get resigned to thinking that happiness is a myth.
A figment.
Something only reserved for a select, lucky few.

It isn't.
It's a matter of trust.

It's a matter of realizing that your perfect match is a perfect her. Or him.
It's a matter of understanding that, in the end, it's the person who sees you through the sadest and darkest of times and loves you for who you are.

Simply.

I've dreamt about a dreamy man who's the kind of handsome that Hollywood ignites. Who's the kind of success that Forbes 500 puts on the cover. Who's interests engulf mine. Who's story may be sad and difficult, but has produced an exceptional man.

I also recognize that I sleep 5-6 hours a night and the other 18-19 hours I spend in the world.
Where men are grown up but ever-living little boys. And I, in turn, am just as much a little girl.

He probably won't be able to match a suit.
He probably won't show up confident and sure.
He might have a preoccupation with star wars or batman or some other endearing and genuinely juvenile distraction.
He might pout or get quiet when he doesn't know how to respond.
He might be selfish and silly about things that he really has no control over.

But I'll love him.

For all of that.

And his success.

And his failure.

And his attempts. Just because he tries.

That's what we're missing here.

We miss accepting being human. The one true quality that makes us lovable.

The older we get, the deeper our past. But it's just a past.

It's over.

Again I land at vulnerability.

The key to ever present and powerful being.

And love.

It's what makes us available to connect. It's what makes us refreshing and new.

And the silliest part of it is that it's simply just us, as we are, as we're able to share.

Love.

I believe in love in Manhattan.

Admiration, the most sought after income in the universe

"I admire you."


Who doesn't want to hear that?  Someone expressing that your way of being inspires and strikes them with a sense of awe and a desire to be...you.


Have you ever experienced someone's admiration when you were being inauthentic?


Notice how you felt anxious or uneasy, or maybe you felt relieved, if you're as inauthentic as that would suggest.  


It's all because admiration is something we all want from life.  We look at magazines, print and television ads.  We read biographies.  We teach children about the fantastic people in history that have changed the world and stood for something and created something truly beautiful in their time here. 


Everyone wants to be admired for something.  Some people want what the world defines as BIG dreams and BIG ideas.  These ideas are only BIG in scale.  That doesn't make them more admirable.  


Let's say there's a little old man who lives alone in a tiny apartment.  He pays all of his bills on time, he always keeps his space neat and clean.  he has no family.  He leaves his apartment every day to get his coffee and his paper, sits in the park or in a cafe on rainy days, reads the paper and then heads to the market to get the items he needs to make dinner.  He spends 2 hours cooking every night, sets the table, puts on his favorite music, enjoys every bite, cleans up, writes in his journal and gets to sleep.  On Tuesdays and Fridays he does his laundry at the laundromat and on Sundays, he goes to services at his church.  He gives $10 every week to the church fund and in every place and thing he does, he makes sure to make eye contact and smile at every person he encounters.  


He's someone who does what he does and is on time and pleasant and wanting to connect with others.  He gives of himself because he wants to, not because he's bound to get something from it.


As humans, we forget that this is real and true and beautiful.  We likely see this man as someone who is boring and lazy and introverted.  


We would rather talk about people who have done amazing things.  BIG scale things...


I have two perfect examples as to why this is completely and unfortunately despicable...


Audrey Hepburn.  


My pseudonym's namesake.  She was beautiful, charming, talented, strong, and generous with her time, giving to charity, working with children in Africa into her elder years, being a glorious mother.


Audrey Hepburn was hospitalized twice for trying to commit suicide.  She was married twice to horribly abusive men.  She was sick, anorexic and perfectionistic.  


I still admire the prior list.  The latter proves her to be a story.  A story we only share the good parts of.


Steve Jobs.

He gave us Apple.  He gave us amazing technology and devices that allow us to be more effective and connected and give us the time to truly live in the world.


Steve Jobs had a terrible relationship with his family.  He was despondent, dominating, and rarely around.  His work was his life.  They were just fluff.


I still admire the prior list.  The latter proves him to be a story.  A story we only share the good parts of.


Admiration is the most sought after income in the universe.
Everyone who takes less is always second best.  
In order to be admired, we must allow ourselves to be seen for who we are.  
We must present our inauthenticities and admit that they have driven us to our need to be admired.  


At the end of the day, false admiration won't make us happy.  Simple self-love and contentment will give us the true self that we need to carry on living a life we love with hope and happiness.


Food for thought...  


Your welcome.
XOXO, Audrey

And...GO

It's been a while.  I was busy.  I was also confused.  I'm neither right now.
I spent some time opening my mind further to new ideas and I am now ready to share them.
It doesn't matter how my day goes...or yours for that matter.
In actuality, it's just a day.  It's just 24 hours, 1440 minutes.
It's just this happened, this didn't, he said, she said, blah blah blah.

My further idea says this:

So what?

Did you enjoy it?

Because, if the answer is no, you've failed at life.

OUCH, Aud!  Did you get hurt or something?  Did you get told your don't know it all.

Nah. I didn't. I already know I don't, but I do know something that I stand for, for the rest of my life.  I've stood for it forever, but I've never had it defined.  Now I have, and I'm proud of myself.

I live.

I don't get resigned to whatever it is that certain someones believe is "the way it goes" or that is "fine for now" or who "aren't getting any younger".

In my life I know I'll aspire professionally to all the possibilities I believe in. In love...I will too.  I'm sure it will be unconventional the way it all goes down, but I will.

I tend to get stuck.
I tend to allow for it.  All of it.
I tend to accept him for his shortcomings, while he derails me for my accomplishments.
I do.
It's terrible.
I know.

I'm not a masochist.  I was just occurring like one.  I'm actually a forthright, bra burning, simple person-hating, femi-nazi bitch.

Yep, I am.

I'm also a delicate, quiet, gentle, and passionate person.

Yep, I am.

I'm also a woman who doesn't need anyone to help her, but would love for an offer.

Yep, I am.

I'm also a girl who still likes printed tights and thick wool sweaters that drown my femininity and my "grown-up-ness"

Yep, I am.

I'm also a woman who will use my legs to drop jaws and shut simple people up so I will be heard.  and I will WIN.

Yep, I am.

I'm RECENTLY  a woman who loves herself.  Who knows exactly what she wants and gets it.  A woman who rolls out profanities ablaze when she doesn't get what she's asking for.

SERIOUSLY?  Yep, you bet I am.

Because I've given.

I've always been the shoulder to cry on, or the friend to "have your back" or the one you can bounce your ideas off of.

That's a sound board.

I'm a human being.

I'm worth so much more than being some one's bobble head while they rant and rave about the travesty of their "Do not resuscitate" life.

Forget it.

They'll have to juice me to get me to leave.

I am taking a stand to ignore ignorance.
To ignore negative thoughts, feelings, expressions, and energy.

I am taking a stand to NOT foster the negativity.

So here's my advise if you'd like a friend like me:

1.  You don't like your job?  quit.
          * If this isn't possible, you've created your hardship by not budgeting to have a cushion to get the
             hell out.  YOU DID THIS
2.  You're not in love with your significant other any more.  get out
         *  Marriage is a choice.  Choose wisely.  You'll be fine if you're alone.  In fact, if he really does
             drive you this crazy, you'll be better.  If you just want to bitch and nothing is wrong SHUT UP.
3.  30 is not old.
         * if you truly believe it is, you need to cheat on your spouse, do some LSD, and frigging live your life.  Not that these things are necessary for living, but 30?!?!.  I still get pimples.  Old people do not get pimples.  I also have 5 years until I reach my sexual peak.  The only people who are old at 30 are men.  they're 11 years past their peak and likely screwing a chick who's got at least 14 years to go.  (they're so on the same level.  I mean, it's scary how much they have in common).
4. Crying. Talking, Expression.  Freaking out.  and BREAKING DOWN.  are a really real part of living.
          * if you're not invested in your life enough to be hurt when things don't go your way, you might as well die and get dirt thrown in your face.

Seriously.  We get this shot.  Why not live every day like you could burst at the seems with presence and excitement and a drive towards your dreams?

Cynicism.  It'll be my plea for not guilty when everyone drops like flies and I'm still chillin, being happy.

Get over yourself, your story, your baggage.  Get over what keeps you where you are.  and...


GO