From The Top Of The Fence

Lately I’ve found myself perched on the fence which runs next to the road of life.  Through sunny days, rainy ones, even some that are cold and snowy, I’m just sitting here on the top, swinging my legs and thinking.  Some times I’m walking down memory lane, remembering the happy and not so happy times in my life.  Other days I am looking with great uncertainty at my future.  Then there are the days I’m just hanging on for dear life hoping not to fall off of this spot on the top rail and land on my tush in the mud puddle on the road side.

The reason I am sitting here is that I’m really uncertain which direction to go at the moment.  So many potential paths meet at this particular point on my life’s map and I just don’t know which one to start down, so I’m doing….nothing.  Wait, not true, I’m doing a lot, just in one place, not going forward down any road, or backward for the matter.  Just existing.

Confused? Me too.

I am at a growth point in my life where I know in my core there is something I am supposed to be doing and learning, right here on the fence….but what?

One of the things I am pondering, is combining my blogs.  While it may cost me some readers, it is too much to manage with my spiritual journey and life blogs.  My faith is part of me.  So, I will likely import it here and you, the faithful readers, can figure out which posts you wish to read from there on your own.

I need to simplify my life and start cutting negative people and forces from my sphere as well.


I wrote the above portion while eating lunch at work yesterday.  On the drive home I was tapped into my friend/boss, because he shoots straight but does it with the kindest of hearts and best of intentions.  He knows all of my dark secrets, the cracks in my shell, and has seen all the hues of my colorful personality and still loves me.  He has seen me at my worst, and at my best, and both make him laugh out loud.  And when he knows this powder keg personality of mine is in a situation where the potential for a huge explosion of either anger or crazy, over the top insane fun is about to occur, he just says, “Keep your clothes on, Ethel”.  That is my cue to stop, breathe, evaluate and dial down.   Though it isn’t fool-proof, it does have a tendency to cause me to at the least slow down.

So yesterday I picked his brain.  I knew that I have areas I need a little nip & tuck so to speak when it comes to improving me on the inside, I have been very resistant to examining myself.  But sooner or later that little voice gets through my very thick shell and I listen.  You cannot pray for guidance and then ignore it when it starts leaning on the doorbell to your heart.  I asked him some pointed questions about things he has said to me, knowing I was not likely to warmly embrace the answers but if I want honest input he is the one to dish it out, in bite size pieces for me to chew on.

He carefully placed a plank across the mud puddle, then helped me climb down off the fence and we started to walk down the path with the sign that says “needs attention”.  On this path we encountered “drama”.  I hate that word and wanted to turn around and run back to the fence, climb back up and pout.  But I had promised to listen with an open mind and heart, and I did ask for this, after all.  He prefaced what he said by reminding me that when it comes to people he loves and those he employees as his right arm, he doesn’t do dumb and doesn’t do boring.  Poor man, I am anything but boring, and his word, ‘colorful’, doesn’t scratch the surface.   And no I am not dumb, far from it.  I just tend to make poor choices when I’m pissed off.  I ‘react’ rather than think.  Which is what he was getting to with the drama.

He doesn’t think I am a drama queen, just that I tend to be a magnet for drama.  And when it does come my way I have a tendency to grab a stick and stir it up really good.  Oh heck, who am I kidding, I grab the industrial grade blender and set it on high, lid off so the contents go everywhere.  He did note that this only happens when someone hurts me, that it is in raw pain and emotion that I will go for the throat and rip someone’s jugular wide open and then stab them repeatedly while they are bleeding out.  I don’t know when in my life this started, though my childhood was full of being the misfit.  I am a card-carrying member of the Island Of Misfit Toys from “Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer”.  I have never felt like I fit in that I can remember.  A person can only take so much being knocked down and picked on before they start lashing out.  I built up the walls around me to protect myself, and behind that tough exterior is a very insecure woman who still hears the voices of her tormentors at times.

The boss heard me described as “emotional” once by the ex, but he prefers to call it passion.  I am very passionate no doubt about it, in every area of my life from love to work to….yeah let’s not go THERE.  And he doesn’t think it is a bad thing at all, says people with passion also have a real heart.  But the passion can over flow the banks of the river of emotion and then the tsunami like damage can be done.  He also pointed out that I cannot change that, it is who and what I am.  BUT I can change how I direct and use that passion.  I don’t always have to flood the land with negative emotion. He has seen the positive emotion over flow and finds it highly amusing and fun to be around- says it is what draws folks to me, because I am full of life and compassion too.  He has helped me more than once (“Keep your clothes on, Ethel”) when what I wanted to do was shred someone verbally and so while it stung to get into this area of my character, I was able to see that I can indeed maintain who I am, not bury or hide my passion, just redirect the currents when negative emotions start the waters rising.

That  “come to Jesus” talk came in handy, and the timing was no doubt Divinely appointed.  See, when I got home last night and settled in after work, I came across a book that was recently published.  Seems the ex-hubster’s new wife is trying her hand at writing.  All in all it was a cute story, but I was cut deep by the ‘character’ of me and how others (ie: my children) view me in her tale.  I was given the name, Zelda.  Sounds like a wicked witch name, and yes I yanked open the broom closet but couldn’t find my magic means of evil transport.  What was written hurt, a LOT.  But with the earlier discussion still warm in my ears, I resisted the urge to write a tell-all book about the ex, “the rest of the story” as Paul Harvey would say, that  would show the world he is less than the stellar, upstanding member of the community that is portrayed in her novel.  Instead, I called the Cowboy and talked to him.  Then I took a deep breath and digested it all.  I have never said an unkind word about her, and I never will.  I don’t know her well, but what I have come to know is a nice person, with a beautiful smile that goes all the way to her eyes.  I’ve tried to do the right thing in any situation where we both were present, even went well beyond that on one occasion and I’d do it again even now.  She only knows the negative and fringe, she doesn’t know ME.  She doesn’t know the me that loved my husband with every fiber of my being, that prayed for him, that was there when he was broken and ugly, that remained faithful and loyal and never spoke an unkind word about him to anyone until we divorced.  The me that still loves him very much and always will.  The me my ex loved and married, had children with, and had a marriage that he said was 90% good.  The me that wanted more than anything to be a stay at home mom, but instead missed my kids growing up years because I had to work to provide for my family when my husband could not.  The me that never gave up on him, but was tossed aside like yesterday’s newspaper by him.  He was my hero.  Once the raw pain subsided, I could be happy for him, and I am, as he seems to have found his soul mate.

I’m so thankful that I didn’t react like I initially felt, but instead dropped the dagger, sat on my pretty little fingers and waited, prayed, cried and waited some more.  The more I did this, the more I decided I rather like “Zelda”, she is someone colorful and wacky, a little looney and far from boring.  In fact, I’m even going to pimp the book:

It is an ebook, available for 99 cents on your Kindle. Click the picture to purchase.

This morning I decided to look up name meanings, and see just what Zelda means.  I like it, and in fact, embrace it, especially after sharing it with someone else who said it fits me rather well.

Your First Name of: Zelda (from the website:

  • Your first name of Zelda has given you a responsible, expressive, inspirational, and friendly personality.
  • Expression comes naturally to you and you are rarely at a loss for words; in fact, you have to put forth effort at times to curb an over-active tongue.
  • Self-confidence has made it easy for you to meet people and you are well-liked for your spontaneous, happy ways.
  • You sincerely like people and do not often experience loneliness; your work and home-life are likely filled with association You enjoy music and could have a fine singing voice; however, the study could be somewhat difficult because you do not find it easy to apply yourself to concentrated study for long periods.
  • In this respect, this name is not altogether constructive; it creates a somewhat scattering influence which makes it difficult for you to finish what you start.
  • This name brings disappointments and emotional involvements through being too sympathetic and easily influenced.
  • As a result of your active nature, you have an appetite for quick-energy foods, which you could consume to excess.
  • Health weakness appear as skin conditions, or as ailments relative to the liver.


  1. Ya know, I’m really glad for you that you chose to seek good counsel on this one and take a deep breath before reacting. Because frankly it isn’t worth it. I took a moment to read the preview of the book – so I didn’t see her characterizations of you or your sister, but it was easy to see that there is a key element in public writing that she has no grasp of – repercussions. I don’t enjoy criticizing another writer – because, well, she has a book; I don’t have a book, who am I to judge? Except that I do write and I can write. At 105 pages, she priced it high for the quality of it. The dialogues are so rudimentary and awkward, it’s painful. Worse than some of the young adult books you see out there. Even putting aside that however, are the repercussions of it. Within just the amazon preview, her #1 co-worker “Larry” is fat, pot-bellied and difficult to work with. Your daughter’s boss is letchy, attempting to feel her ass while she’s working – um, sexual harrassment. And your ex can’t keep an intelligent thread of thought going for more than 2 sentences without falling mute to his dick. While she stands on a pedestal in the middle of it all – pretty much writing herself a cape. What does this book say about her real thoughts on any of these people? If your daughter’s boss reads it? If “Larry” really stops to think about it? Oh sure – parts of it are fiction, aren’t they? I’m sure she’ll say she’s just pandering to publish, gilding the reality to make a funny story – but when you blur fact and fiction in the way that she’s done, neither reflect truths. She may have wanted to create a good laugh at your expense, but the price of collateral damage on this one is going to be high for her. That is, if anyone actually bothers to read it. Terrible, terrible writing. Ick.

  2. I’m super happy for you that you took the high road. Although I’m struggling to keep curiosity from getting the better of me, I’m not purchasing that book. I knew your ex and never, ever, ever respected him. He was overbearing, mean and controlling. And I know you were ever-forgiving, and always trying to please him hoping for some peace in your life. I know you “went off” now and again, but who wouldn’t, being repressed and mentally abused. I saw it, and I couldn’t stand it, and yea I stayed away – a lot. I always worried, still do actually, about your tendency to get too close to the flame – just to see how much it hurts, and how much you can endure, before you are either pushed to or fall on your butt. I’m sure I’ll never run into him anywwhere, ever, but if I do, I’m spittingon his shoes.And how dare “she” think she has any rights to your story.

  3. I don’t really know what to say…such a personal and deep, thought provoking post. a few words seems insufficient to cover it all. except to say that I really liked it. and that I am sure me and your other readers now know you a little better AND like you even more. You are a good woman to pimp out her book for her.

  4. I’m not sure what the book would say, but I already don’t like the title. It conjures something in my mind that implies “fake” and made of things that aren’t natural….or something like that. Besides, I’m not willing to give my hard-earned 99 cents over to someone just to fuel their hatred of someone else. I only hope that when I grow up, I can be famous like you Marti, and someone might write a book about me too ! Then again, I hope the author is professional enough that the price tag is a little higher than what would normally be called a “bargain basement” price. Here’s hoping that she makes enough to buy some therapy !

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