OM3! Number 33 is Ruling Me: Obsession or Something More?

The number 33 has been ruling my life for the past seven years now. I rarely speak about it because my family thinks I’m a big enough weirdo, I was trying to spare them. They almost escaped. Unfortunately (for them), I’m a die-hard BING Reward chaser, and that literally is what cost them.

Let me tell you friends, there are a LOT of people out there like me (YES!), and the association with these numbers consumes them as it does me. I notice it all the time, and everywhere. Like here:

333 Words in a Blog Post I Wrote Recently that Briefly Mentioned DNA

333 Words in a Blog Post I Wrote Recently that Briefly Mentioned DNA

What the Hell am I Talking About?

My dad passed away when I was 33.

He was found dead in his apartment, which was #33.

It was located on California State Highway 33.

He worked for at the same business for 33 years.

It was located at 33 N. Salado.

He would have been sixty-two years old on September 23, 2014.

It Gets So Unbelieveable: Are You Buckled Up?

I have been bombarded with the number’s 33 and 333 for a couple weeks now; more so than ever. The frequency of the number sequences has gotten so overwhelming, I started documenting them to prove to those around me that I was still semi-sane.

I came across this discovery as I was searching for past stories I’ve written about my dad. Look at the top left-hand side of this screen shot. Right above a note I wrote about my grandpa.

33 Notes Stored on Facebook

33 Notes Stored on Facebook

To me, the numbers have always been positive indicators. They have always reminded me my dad was still here. They’ve busted me acting up,  as a reminder that I’m not alone and provide encouragement to forge ahead. I know I’m a weirdo–Keep reading, it’s about to get better.

This Photo Taken in 2010 at a Gas Station Down the Street. I first started watching after I saw this. It was 3 years after my dad passed.

This Photo Taken in 2010 at a Gas Station Down the Street. I first started watching after I saw this. It was 3 years after my dad passed.

My relationship with my dad was rocky from the start. To say we bumped heads would be an understatement. He and I clashed, and it sucked.

I never understood how to communicate with him, always fought for his attention and mimicked his stubbornness, especially while under the influence of beer. I didn’t get his approval, or accolades, or support, or encouragement-from him, I got a lot of “blah”.

That all changed a couple years before he died. The last years with him were good. He was present, watched my boys, tried to follow along with my life, and evolved into a pleasant man. Although we got on each other’s nerves, it wasn’t as bad as the previous years.

So, Back to The 3’s

A Tweet I Sent With 33 Looking at Me

A Tweet I Sent With 33 Looking at Me. Ironic? It Was a Shout Out to My Dad.

I noticed the number three and its correlation to my dad pretty soon after his death. As you can imagine, I also began to notice the number’s 33 and 333 more often.

At first, I’d see the numbers and think it was cool, and sent a shout out to my dad. There was peace that gave me the sense of knowing, (in my weird way) that he was still around, looking out for my me, my kids, and my sister. No one else in the family had this connection, so I felt special.

Overwhelming feelings of gravitation toward recognizing the presence of these numbers has gnawed at me for the past seven years. It’s as if they are trying to say the meaning is greater than what I am interpreting.

Naturally, I think I’m dying.

I know it’s irritating, but I can’t help it. I built to process things differently than most-God knows I’ve spent years trying to change it, but I have no choice. I over-analyze, and literally drive myself crazy, trying to find more; which in all honesty, drives everybody else crazier than it does me.
Naturally, that makes me pursue it further, and that’s exactly what I did today.

I have NO IDEA why but in seven years, I’ve never put any real research into this phenomenon. I’ve talked about it, posted pictures on Facebook, made anyone near me stop to look at the clock when I’ve caught it at 3:33, but I never looked into an actual meaning before now.

Computer Screen Shot at 3:33

Computer Screen Shot at 3:33

It was September 23, 2014, and it was a long one full of thought, disbelief, confusion, and excitement. If everything adds up—what does it all mean?

Let’s just say I was a bit shocked at the results, as I read some philosophy behind the meaning. Let’s break it down according to Creative Numerology.

Screenshot from Creative Numerology about 33

Screenshot from Creative Numerology

Who wants to know what my numbers are?

Here goes:

My birthday:

1+2+2+7=12=1+2=3

September 23, 2014

9+2+3+7=21=2+1=3

I went on to break down every birthday I could think of; family members, friends, strangers… NO ONE else has a life number of 3. So, what does it all mean? I’m exploring more. I’ll be back. Leave an opinion if you’ve got one.

He Was No Tom Selleck: Lessons From Dad After He Passed

*Originally shared at Yahoo! Voices in June 2014—- My parents divorced when I was three, and as a result, I became a statistic. In the ’70s, divorce was a new concept, and the psychology of parenting wasn’t anything people thought about changing. In truth, the notion of parenting roles was still vague during these times. Fathers were not as actively involved with children — not like mothers anyway — and weekend visitation (in the rare case of divorce) was socially accepted.

My dad carried his weight with visitation and child support but didn’t go beyond. He attended my graduations from 8th grade and high school but other than that; he was absent.

As a child, he was my hero. I told my friends that he was the coolest guy ever. I often compared his looks to Tom Selleck (he was young and popular then!) and bragged about how much fun he was.

Tom Selleck on the red carpet at the 1989 Acad...

Tom Selleck on the red carpet at the 1989 Academy Awards, March 29, 1989 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In hindsight, I only remember going anywhere with him twice. Once to Disneyland and once to a zoo.

As a teen, I began to struggle with his role. I rebelled at the idea that he was sort of a deadbeat but the realization was becoming clearer. He was, a hard man to please and getting his attention was nearly impossible.

After the birth of my first child, I began to feel pity for him. He spent his free-time with his buddies at the bar; he was uninterested in my life. At first, I was angry. Years made me soften, and my fondness for Psychology made me analyze him.

This analysis made me very aware of his pain. I began to forgive.

My dad passed away seven years ago from complications with his liver. A result from excessive drinking. A few years before he died, I was able to repair our relationship. He had quit drinking, and I learned I liked him. I was almost 30 years old before I realized how similar I was to him. His desire to become a better grandpa was ultimately what repaired our relationship.

He became the dad I had always wanted. He was a great grandpa to my kids.

His legacy carries into my life on a daily basis. I think about him during every aspect of my role as a parent. I continue to strive to be a better mom, and I always look at the good and bad of my dad.

He has indirectly taught me more about being a parent than I could ever have imagined.

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39 Blog Posts and The Chick Did WHAT?

Two days ago, I published my thirty-ninth post here at WordPress and it’s been a bit of a process for this “self-proclaimed” genius. Surprisingly, post number thirty-nine has been “my best day yet” according to the notification Gods working behind the wheel of analytics, and ironically, number thirty-nine is also my age. Interested yet?

Well, after you hear this, you’re going to reconsider the props I was given, and the attention you gave me. I’m willing to bet the number thirty-nine also represents my I.Q score.

Go 39

Go 39 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

Yep, friends, my rant about earning a forced education out of the pure desire to follow a dream, regardless of my economic status, had surpassed the prior thirty-eight posts I’d written after only one-hour of exposure. We were damn near viral (ok, a small exaggeration), I was getting excited, (insert more sarcasm), when the frustration with trying to customize a widget overpowered me. Approximately three minutes after the abundant accolades, I transferred my domain name to another site.

Edit DNS. Yes, I did.

My phone was blowing up—25, yes, that’s right, 25 new people had started following me within ONE HOUR.

I had no idea this “brilliant” idea was about to take my mental health hostage. You see, I didn’t have another server ready to go, or a plan, and I just jumped. Hmmm? I probably don’t need to warn you, but just in case… DO NOT CLICK developer links and bounce around like you’re a bad-ass, even if, you’re like me, and think thirty-eight published blog posts has now earned you a spot amongst the elite team of computer engineers, known as the Geek Squad.

A Best Buy Geek Squad Volkswagen New Beetle.

A Best Buy Geek Squad Volkswagen New Beetle. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ummm, yah…. I’m that girl.

((FYI to all the Internet Editors: I KNOW this site is full of errors…. that’s just how I roll.))

Looking on the bright side, I can add another skill to my resume thanks to that mistake. YAH! My transcripts are looking marvelous. So, after a small break, I’ve returned. Guess what else? I changed everything here.

New Title…. CHECK!

New Logo….CHECK!

New Blogger….DAMN! Stuck with me.

Perfectly Imperfect & Simply Chaotic is so much more reflective of who I am, and how I navigate life. I’m on the edge of turning FORTY. There are some things about the DNA of ME that I can work on, and others that are inevitably inherent to WHO, and WHAT I’m supposed to be.

Edit DNA. No, I didn’t.

I’ve tried, he’s tried, she’s tried, the dog tried…. You get my point.

I blocked that transfer, put my big girl pants on, cleaned my shit up, and came back with an authentic voice.

Just like my blog. You’ll either love us or hate us, what ever you decide, thanks for the lesson.

 

Today (Man, I think–Maybe it Was Yesterday) I Began to Share Poetry at Bubblews

 

To be vulnerable is an art, poetry is the easy part ——–Robin Matteri

…I do not know what prompted my sign-up at Bubblews.com but I decided to jump—I just can’t remember the day.

And in the words of my favorite dead singer…

“And as a matter of fact, as we discovered on the train, tomorrow never happened, man. It’s all the same f*cking day, man”  ——Janis Joplin

 

For some reason, I am registered at every damn social networking, and writing platform online.

 

Pretty sure Google just LOVES that.

 

Don’t ask me why?

Don’t ask me how?

Don’t tell me I’m annoying…..

————- Here’s a quick peek—————-

The Love of My Life: Apart for 18 Years

I shared my poetry. You know–the words I referred to in my blog about the beginning of my writing career. Oh, what? You didn’t read it? Well… here you go friend. ———-> Lessons

The poetry began as words—lyrics, actually—but I never learned how to play the guitar, she I squashed that dream.

 

For years, I kept these words tucked away. I was anxious to share.

But, it’s been amazing.

Part of the Tortured Poetry Collection of Robin Matteri

Part of the Tortured Poetry Collection of Robin Matteri

 

Here’s what I know for sure:

When you write genuinely, and respectfully, people respond. You know why?

You’re never alone.

Your thoughts, are unique to you, but shared by many.

Pain, heartache, and sadness are not prejudice, and do not unfairly select you.

The same goes with happiness, or so I’ve been told anyway!

If you’d like to stop by and check out my stuff, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Mental Health and Our Homeless Population

Shadow Girl

Shadow

I never realized the impact mental health issues had on diverse groups of people for a long time. I believed that mental illness was as elusive as a disease that effected the elderly. I learned differently over the course of many years and took what I had researched and applied it to real life.

I started volunteering for a homeless shelter in 2010 that was located in Patterson, California. Patterson is primarily an agricultural community with a population of nearly 20,000. In a recent article written in the local newspaper; Patterson Irrigator it was reported that the population of homeless ranged between 50 and 80 people.

Law enforcement is quick to point out the impact of drug addiction on this population. I do not dispute this. I worked directly with the majority of the people counted as statistics in the newspaper article. There were severe cases that required intervention and treatment but the majority of people were just lost and needed to be motivated. There are those who suffered with mental health issues prior to becoming homeless and then there are those who are perpetuated into mental illness because of their living situations.

When a person becomes hopeless it leads to not caring which leads to giving up.

Addiction VS Mental Health

My theory involves treating the mental illness in order to help homeless abusers who self-medicate themselves. Studies have pointed to a majority of alcohol and drug addicts who also suffer from untreated mental illnesses. By treating the true cause, a person is given a more authentic chance at successful recovery and ultimately a more meaningful life.

It seems like an easy fix. Treat mental health issues, present solutions to homelessness and watch success. Unfortunately, there are many different mental illnesses and the process to treatment can be lengthy and requiring of patience. I witnessed a lot of frustration and embarrassment in diagnosis and treatment. Yep, even our homeless population has pride. The misconceptions of mental health and the word “crazy” still resonates as negative to some. Refusal of treatment and denial of mental health issues was another common thread.

How to Help

For me, the hardest thing to STOP doing was giving change to those who asked. For a long time I didn’t care where the money went. I told myself that if a person down on their luck needed to use alcohol or drugs to escape their reality, it was alright. I learned differently after volunteering.

There are many different organizations that help our homeless population. Organizations like National Association of Mental Illness, who offer services and resources for all people suffering with mental health issues. Local organizations, food pantries and larger organizations are working hard at providing necessities for those in need.

Nowadays, if I run across someone asking for change; I direct them to nearby organizations, churches and facilities that are there to help ease the hardship. Sometimes, it breaks my heart to keep my change. I’ll get over it. I know It’s the right thing to do.

Infographic: How Profound: The Facebook Archive Speaks Wisdom

<img src="image.gif" alt="howprofoundfacebookarchives" />

Facebook Archives Philosophy Robin Matteri Copyright 2014

From the Facebook archives of my life, I find something profound from a few years ago. At some point in life we all go through periods where we examine our path and wonder if we’re doing what we always wanted to be doing.

For me, these times always involve alcohol.

In this particular case, the beer was amazing at crafting words of philosophical genius.

For the record, I’m finally doing what I’ve always wanted to be doing. It’s making me feel guilty about not doing what I should be doing.

The tortured irony of my life never gets old.