The Other Voices...

When you live with someone, it doesn't take long, sometimes, to realize you now live your life under the microscope.  There is someone there to hear you (and, er, smell you) when you toot.  Someone who realizes that all you eat is cookies.  Someone who discovers that you have no idea how to use ______.  That you never ______.  That you always ______.  Things about yourself that you manage to hide from the world when you live alone. 

In really "fun" relationships, the other person will often share their observations... usually with a little derision.  And those observations stick with you.  If you're really lucky, you'll hear those voices long after you no longer share space with that person.  (Yes, that *was* sarcasm....)

Sometimes, even, these things end up being buttons.  Things that gnaw at your self esteem, things that are buttons that others might inadvertently trip over, things that create secretive behavior.

....

And this is the fun awkward point of the blog entry.  The point of the post where I know that if I don't admit it here that later I'm sure I'll be asked as to what prompted the post.  Well.. uh... there is a bag of cookies sitting beside me.  A half empty bag of cookies.  And well, to admit, that last week I actually put an empty bag of cookies back into the cupboard to make it seem as if I took an extra day to finish them off. 

....

It is funny, though, how those other voices stay in your head.  So that when your significant other comes home and asks, "__________" you suddenly hear a completely different question.  Suddenly that question is loaded.  And you find yourself already being defensive about a question that hasn't even been asked. 

It is important and yet impossible when you start a new relationship to leave the baggage at the door.  To give the person that you are with an opportunity to just be themselves.  To see them for them, and not for all the other people who might have come before them.  To enjoy the moment.  To not read more into "________" than a polite enquiry by someone who cares about you. 

And as I secretively nosh on a few more cookies before she comes home, I know that the voices I hear chastising me for eating so much sugar aren't hers.  They are the voices of others. 

O! M! G!

So, I was on Twitter this morning, and I suddenly had this FEAR that I had missed my blogging anniversary.  I knew I had started in mid-February last year, and I thought it was around the 12th.

Well, it was.  AROUND the 12th.  Fortunately, it was the 15th. [Here is my opening post... ]

So today, then, is the last day of the first year of my blog.  The first of perhaps MANY years, I can hope...

But WOW! What an amazing first year!  What an incredible, incredible first year! 

I don't even know where to begin in my recap...

But one of the reasons for this blog was because I'm real cheap, and this was free therapy. So thanks, guys! ;)

No, but seriously, at the time I started this blog, I was deep in grief over two lost relationships, and I was feeling incredibly lonely in a small town where I was trying to dig roots, in a job that ultimately I felt both overwhelmed and bored with.  I had lost my best friend, and was feeling a deep need to find someone to tell all the random thoughts and silly things (and perhaps profound?) that were screaming through my head.

So, I thought the whole world was a suitable audience to share everything with...

But I had no readers except my good friend Robin Sparkles (thank you, Robin!) and apparently I wasn't the type who liked to talk just to hear my own voice.  Apparently, I'm so selfish and self-centered I actually want OTHERS to hear me too....

And I had decided to give it a whirl because I enjoyed hearing The Bloggess' voice and thought I can do that!  So after twenty-five blog posts, and hoping that meant I was going to stick with this, I called her out. At the time, on her blog, there was an incident that she has asked us to no longer name with an actor whose first memorable role was as the second Joey in One Life To Live, and I encouraged her to share a picture with me as she might have wanted one who shall not be named to send a picture to her of him. 

So, to get her attention, I did an evil thing.  Something that from high above in my lofty cloud I thought was much too far beneath me.  Something I never thought I would do.

That's right.  I joined Twitter.

WOW! 

And The Bloggess - bless her heart - was my VERY FIRST FOLLOWER!!!

At some point along the way, I found Kit.  And I believe I found her through Jenny.  And I found her posts - particularly her posts about sex - to be really funny and amusing.  I liked her voice too.  And I'd like to say she was my second follower.. but I'm not sure... Either way, with #wineparty, she opened up a whole new world to me.

A world of 30-40-something Mommy bloggers.  (Primarily)

You guys are great.  Considering I am most definitely NOT a Mommy... 

And I have a Sci-Fi name that should turn you off. And it took some of you awhile to realize I wasn't a guy hitting on and flirting with women, but, um, a dyke.  But you enjoyed it and flirted back.

And one particular chickie - who played a little hard to get at first - flirted back and foolishly fell in love with me.  ;)

WOW!

And slowly, but surely, I've built up a following.  I have a steady readership of about 20 readers... ;)  and I have had over twelve thousand hits.  I have a strong Balkan following.

The CANADIANS have been quite impressive fans.  They are so polite.  They'll apologize when YOU fart.  I love the Canadians... And so... today is as good a day as any to make the official announcement that, well, I'm moving to Canada.

'Cuz, as I've already mentioned, there's this particular chickie.. and well.. she's a CANADIAN chick.. go figure... We're not entirely sure she likes me and that she isn't just being polite to me, "Oh sure..." but we're gonna run with it anyway.  ;)

(Actually, no, we're QUITE sure she likes me, very much... and if I left that sentence alone, particularly after her sweet Valentine's eve series of love notes, I'd be in trouble... and that's no way to start a life together... )

Goodbye small town.  Goodbye single.  Goodbye soccer coach.  Goodbye America.  Goodbye job.  Goodbye church...

Woah.. what's going to be left of me when I go?

All the essential parts of me will still be here. 

I have enjoyed very much living in a small town, but I didn't particularly choose this place.  They have been good to me.  Very good to me! I have really enjoyed coaching soccer, but I have no inherent skills or even love for the sport.  I enjoyed the girls - they were great!  Can't say I enjoyed being single, but I can say that I got out of it what I needed, and I have most definitely let go of my past relationships and am ready for this new one I'm already in (so it's, um, a good thing, eh?)  America? Well... you're hard to ignore.  And I'll be living in a border town (okay, border megaopolis), so I have a feeling I won't miss you too much.  Job? Pfft... well... it has always been a gap-filler.  And it and the church, and the soccer have all sort of helped me get a firmer understanding of what I enjoy doing, and in a larger city, I will have a better opportunity to find something that fits those things. 

What a year!  I mean, really, what a year!  One thing which has NOT changed, though, over this past year.  And that is being and knowing that I am very, very blessed. 

Who knows what themes will emerge with this blog in the next year?  Change will probably be one of them.  I'm going to try and stuff my life into five duffel bags and stuff them and my bike into my car and start over.  I've always always always wanted to have such little stuff in my life that I could stuff it all in a car and go.  I have a couple of weeks to pare things down to see if I can do it.  If I manage it, that's another WOW!  I am looking forward to trying.

Alright - a few other topics are creeping into my head to write about, but it is clear to me that they are separate posts. 

But I wanted to say WOW! and THANK YOU! for an INCREDIBLE year.  INCREDIBLE! 

Who knew when I started this that this is where it would lead?  But I am so grateful it has! 

I am blessed. 

Darwin...

Every once in awhile I listen to what "they" say, but I do so with a grain of salt.  Because it makes "they" taste better.  No, wait, that's not it...

There are a lot of theories out there about what makes people healthy and happy and prosperous and successful and whatever other good and positive adjective you might come up with.

But really, that's often all that they are - theories.  Hypotheses to be tested.

As I have entered into a new relationship - ready or not - I contemplate a lot about what "they" say, and whether, actually, I am ready or not, and if it makes a difference.

Because I'll tell you something.  My lady-friend (I actually hate that term, but for some reason, it seems to fit literally (as in style, not actually) in this next sentence...)  My lady friend would tell you it doesn't make a difference because we belong together, and that is just that.  And I'd agree with her.

So, it doesn't make a difference.

BUT... that doesn't mean it isn't fun to ponder, does it?  (And yes, my lady friend might chirp in here that I need to be careful not to borrow trouble.. even if I intend to give it back)

So these "theories"...

Things like being able to be self-sustaining.  About it being wrong to "need" someone else.  About being a perfectly healthy complete individual before EVER contemplating a relationship. 

Yeah, that kinda of bull-hockey (to quote Colonel Potter). 

My lady-friend has actually read a considerable amount of my blog, including some of my particularly vulnerable posts.  So, she has a pretty good idea of what she's getting into here with me.  She's seen some of the baggage that I carry and that I've spent a good deal of this past year and the past three and a half years trying to unload.  She knows that my ADD can cripple me at times.  She knows that in some objective (ha) standard that I am not "perfect", and yet, she believes that I am perfect for her. 

So what do I care what "they" say? 

Frankly, for the most part, I don't. 

I was thinking, though, while eating my fried eggs for "breakfast" (at 3:30ish PM) about Darwin. And I think one of the reasons that our species has managed to survive, frankly, is that we DO work together.  That we are not simply out there as lone wolves trying to do everything ourselves.  That the division of labor - whether it was sexist or not - was so that we could do what we needed TOGETHER to thrive and move forward.  That it's a lot for each of us to go out, kill the meal, gather the fruits and grains, prepare the meal AND clean up afterwards.  That it is easier for us to thrive and to have time to do more than just survive if we do it together.

Because if you'll recall from my past posts, one of my goals this past year is to move beyond just surviving, and move into thriving.  And I just don't think it's easy for us to do that alone.  Perhaps it is possible.  But that's a lot of work for a single person to do all by themselves. 

So, even if you don't believe in all the religious crap that God intended us to be in pairs, and such, even just the basic theory of survival suggests, nay, seems to require, that we work together.  That we be together.

So, .. if I were to listen, closely, to what "they" say, it seems quite clear that "they" say we should be together.  Because it is much easier to do this together, than to do this alone.  And I feel blessed to have found someone who wants to do this with me. 

Happy New Year, folks!  May 2013 be full of blessings and happiness!  Let's work together.  After all, we are a collective.  Resistance is futile.  ;)  If you've learned nothing this year, as loyal readers, you should have learned that.. ;)

People

There are moments in life when you want to crawl into a hole and just get away from all people.  Right? Tell me, you've had those moments, too?

Except the pathetic irony is that even when you crawl into that hole ostensibly to get away from everyone, because everyone seems to suck, you really want that special someone to notice you've crawled into a hole and to come and find you.

Yeah.. Humans are inconsistent creatures...

I'd crawl into the hole.. but there isn't anyone special that would come looking for me... Nope.  The one who would has decided she doesn't want to be that special someone.  And it's been three months since she has come looking for me...  (Oh, woe is me... Pity party of one? Your usual table is ready...)

So, I find out this news today.  And the first live person I try to tell - the first friend I run into - doesn't even realize what I'm trying to tell her.  I have to try and tell her about four different times in four different sightings before she pays enough attention to me to realize what I'm saying.  And then what does she do? She changes the subject...

As Bartles & James would say, "Thank you.  Thank you for your support."

Another friend was less supportive last week, and after I got a little irrationally upset, hasn't really spoken to me since.  And there's a part of me that prefers that because even though I was irrational, I'm still not happy about her behavior and her absence.  Even though it likely has nothing to do with me. 

Another friend has recently declared about another friend of mine that she not only doesn't like the sin, she doesn't like the sinner.  Knowing that I have committed the same "sin" and yet, blindly, she doesn't hate me?  But she should if she were consistent, so I don't really feel like spending time around her...

I got bitched at by a parent the other night at soccer - the wife of a member of the Board.  She was upset because apparently my cohort telling her in person about the fundraiser money deadline was not sufficient, and she was angry because *I* didn't call her to tell her money was due.  Your husband is on the Board?  The calendar has been posted since last November?  Um, the coach called everyone to tell them when it was due? We sent home flyers? And *I'm* the one responsible for you not knowing the money was due?

F-you.

And frankly, at the moment, that is what I feel like saying to most people.  All while hoping they come looking for me under the rock I plan on hiding under. 

Humans are inconsistent crazy creatures.  And I am most certainly one of 'em...

The next post...

.. so after I wrote the short post on Answers, I started another post called "I'm a bitch".  It is true.  Sometimes I can be...

It was a post, apparently, though in gestation, not quite ready yet to be born.

I'm not sure it is, yet, but I'll let my fingers give it a try, and if you're reading this, well, then, I guess I thought it was "good enough".  Hee hee...

Ever have a disagreement or a grumble with someone close to you - in this case, more generally, a friend - and just want to say "Fuck 'em... I'm done"?  Or more accurately and comprehensively, "I'm done with people..."?

Yeah. That.

Or, more fun, and probably more accurate, a series of grumbles with a series of people...

... and, that, unfortunately, is when you have to look in the mirror and ask / wonder if it is yourself.  If you are, indeed, a bitch. 

But let's face it.  None of us is perfect. We all have our bitchy moments.  And ideally, in our non-bitchy moments, we have shown something to others to suggest that our value is worth overlooking those moments of bitchiness.

There is a fine line between expecting everyone to accept you the way you are, and love you the way you are without having to change and bend yourself into being a pretzel to be accepted and loved, and then using that "People should love me the way I am" as a hammer or a bludgeon to entitle you to act like a bitch. 

There was someone I've met in the last six months - virtually - who very much had a huge chip on her shoulder, and basically felt that if someone else was worthy, they'd love them just the way that they were.  On the very first day she and I interacted, though, she went postal on me.  Then, later, apologized if she offended, and gosh, gees, she was getting her period, and by the way, why are you so sensitive?

I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, and didn't block her after that, although I was tempted and every warning in me said to run.  And sure enough, it happened again.  I wasn't as invested, and it didn't take me by surprise, and I was better able to stand my own ground and call her on her behavior.  "Gees, why are you so sensitive?" and "You attacked me".  Um, no, I merely disagreed with what you said.  I can do that, ideally, and you should be strong enough? secure enough? to understand that simply because I don't agree with everything you believe doesn't mean I am attacking you....

She was tiring, after a while... (Heck, who am I kidding? She was tiring immediately), and eventually, I moved on and blocked her. 

Next.

It is Twitter, after all.  There are definitely plenty of fish in the sea. 

This was several months ago, and it is easier and safer to talk about her and her behavior to illustrate these general principles than to look inward to see if I, now, am being the bitch.

And I probably am.  Now, before you get all supportive and wonderful and tell me how sweet I am below (which, well, go ahead, and do... I won't mind, I guess! ;) ).. you don't have to live with me day-to-day.  You don't have to deal with my irrational moments, which feel pretty damn rational to me, damnit.  You may see me stick my head in the sand, but as virtual strangers / friends you can just keep on walking and ignore me.  Those whom I have lured into the trap of friendship are not as easily able to ignore me. 

'Cuz I can whine. 

I can be grumpy.

I can be childish.

I can throw a damn good tantrum. 

I can get snippish, snappish, snarky, and sarcastic. 

I can be mean.

And, when I step back, I know that some of this behavior is no different than when done by a child.  I am seeking attention by any means necessary, and since the good attention may not seem to be flowing at the moment, I guess I seek bad attention, too. 

Great. 

No, I don't take crayons to walls.  I haven't done that since I was ten.  Besides, none of you have to live within my walls, anyway, so none of you would notice, and it wouldn't get any of that attention. 

But I do crave attention.  Oh, so much.

Okay.  So that isn't news.  And I'm not alone.  And wait, you want attention, too?

Oh, us humans. We can be so much fun, can't we?

All I want is for you to love me, notice me, care for me, nurture me... be with me... If you must, you can even call me George..

Is that so much to ask?

Yeah, that's what I was afraid of....

... apparently, that might be why I can be a bitch. 

P.S.  If you're here from the Bloggess, check out my post Welcome Lawsbians to learn a little about my tenuous connection to Jenny! ;)

Twitter is rarely boring...

... but if you've found my blog, you probably already know that.

Now, admittedly, some of the more, um, graphic pictures suit certain tastes.  And some of those can be amusing, too.  Some of those can cause you to hurl.. so be careful.

But that's not really where I was going.

No, in fact, I was going to Sam's Club to pick up reinforcements for the soccer concessions stand. 

And I took all of my Tweeps with me. 

God bless 'em.

They advised me AGAINST the 850 gumballs.  Towards baking supplies with which I have no idea what I would do.  They taste-tested Pumpkin Fudge with me.  Encouraged me to indeed get some good basic spoil-proof staples (including snacks!!) for burrowing in for the winter. 

Generally made me laugh while I wandered aimlessly through the club store by myself. 

Which was appreciated.  Except for concessions, I really haven't had much need as a single gal without two dogs and two cats and a house with plenty of room to store 620 rolls of toilet paper to go to warehouse club stores.  Before, when I had all of those things and a spouse to go with, we used to play "Price is Right" at the checkout to see who could get closest to the total without going over.  Before, I had someone to bounce off whether it really did make sense to get the 200 ounce bottle of something we used once every six months.  Not that she didn't egg me on a little.  But warehouse club stores are much more fun when you have someone with whom to share them, and the things you purchase.

So thank you, Tweeps.  For $60, I purchased many more meals to have in reserve as needed than I ever could at the grocery store.  I will not starve this winter. Maybe by spring, but not over the winter... ;)

(No nuts, though.. dykes don't like nuts.  That's why we're dykes.... Okay.. so that's not true, but it's fun to say!)

Today is the first day...

Blah, blah, blah...

Although it's fricking true.  Still, blah, blah, blah.

I am at another, shall we say, "transition point" in my life.  The part-time contract that was supposed to be somewhat short-term and that I managed to actually stretch out for a full year - much past it's expiration date - is not-so-surprisingly coming to an end.

In the bigger picture, I know this is a good thing. 

And I know my friends are stuck providing me all the good trite sayings I would say to them in the same situation.  "Today is the first day of the rest of your life", etc., etc.

And I feel their pain.  I know that there is NOTHING they could say to me - trite or otherwise - that would necessarily penetrate this bubble of concern that is surrounding me.

Now, I'm not on full blown panic or distress (yet).  But I'm not exactly happy, either.

I have several months before full blown panic or distress comes in (not that I won't have my moments, mind you). 

One of the problems I have is that some of my contracts are open ended, so it's not always possible to prepare ahead of time for another one, because it's not always clear with the first one is going to end.  It took me eight months between the last one and this one to have more than a two or three week gig, and those were eight long months.  I made a small amount of savings stretch quite far.  I was quite impressed with myself, frankly.

But my savings going into this round, though, are a little less impressive because I had some serious dental bills at the beginning of the year.  So I'm nervous.

I try to have faith.  God and I are having quite a few conversations lately.  He's the strong silent type.  He knows anything he might say I'd probably respond "blah, blah, blah" to, much as I have been doing to my friends. But I am trying to have faith that when this door closes, another one will open.  Or a window (although it's starting to get chillier...).

I also know job hunting before Christmas is not always easy.  I've got an extra month or so jump from prior years when I've found myself in this situation, but I know once mid-November hits, I just have to hold on until January.  And I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. 

The problem with these transition points, as I so politely call them, is that it also calls into question other "life choices".  Now this can be a good examination, or a not-so-good examination.  It is good and healthy, as a general rule, to make sure you stop and examine if you are in the place (literally, figuratively, metaphysically) that you want to be in your life, and when certain obligations that have been keeping you in those positions release, to confirm you are where you want to be.  Those are good examinations, because if you're going to make big changes in your life, these are good moments to make them.

The trouble is that the flip side of that can be a little bit like Alice's rabbit-hole.  And it doesn't take much to slip into full-on crisis and doubt that everything you've done to get yourself to this place and everything that you're doing is wrong.  And that you aren't supposed to be here, and .. well... you can already see how the cycle can swirl out of control quite quickly.

And I have spent a considerable amount of this summer beginning to wonder if this is the place I should be.  Wondering if despite how much I *do* like small town life, if this isn't still a bit too small for me - or perhaps, at least, not as diverse for me as I might want.  Surely there are small towns in the world with larger lesbian populations <*cough* Oregon *cough*>.   Of course even those that are nearby seem a little too political for my taste... (picky, picky, picky).  But in late June when my landlord told me I might have been better off if the Poltergeist tree had taken out my house, I have been wondering what I would do if it had.  Where would I go?  Would I stay here?

The problem, then, with grand sayings like "Today is the first day..." is that while it's meant to be optimistic and full of possibilities, is that it is just full of possibilities. And they swirl in front of someone with no direction like a tornado.  (And tornadoes are not good around here, because they bring down the BIG ASS TREE onto my house, and well...)

My friends are stuck in a hopeless situation.  I want feedback, I want *something* from them in response to my growing fear, and yet, I know, my response to anything they might offer me is "Blah, blah, blah..."  I'll have answers to refute any of their good suggestions (not that they won't stick in my craw and gestate even after I refute them) and that I will be quite stubborn and frustrating.  Which is why God stays silent.  He knows that actions speak louder than words.  Right, big guy? *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge*

"Do not cling to events of the past or dwell on what happened long ago.  Watch for the new thing I am going to do.  It is happening already - you can see it now!  I will make a road through the wilderness and give you streams of water there."  (Isaiah 43)

I have carried this in my wallet for three years. 

Today is the first day....

Punching Bags, Over-Reactions and Bringing an Army

I woke up this morning earlier than I wanted and not quite yet ready to hit the day.  With less than minimal sleep, I checked my email and found that someone had left me a comment on one of my entries. 

I, then, proceeded to over-react.  Because that is much more fun, don't you think? Me, too!

And while I generally don't recommend over-reactions, I managed, nonetheless, to at least focus that over-reaction in a positive manner.  In hindsight, I am quite surprised and pleased with myself on that.

In the past (yes! in the past, damnit!) I have made a wonderful punching bag.  I am so empathetic to your pain, that I allow that pain to be an excuse to behave badly towards me.  I excuse your behavior and then have stood still while you took your shots. 

I have a VERY good long history of making excuses for others' bad behavior.  And this is no question one of my underlying repeated issues.  One that I haven't quite yet resolved because I have been doing it as long as I can remember.  I don't really know how not to do it.  It's been a role I've played often and with many people in my life.  It is a role I have unfortunately allowed myself to be in often and with many people in my life.

Now, for the most part, I have been fairly good about not taking the poor behavior personally.  In fact that is kind of a requirement to be successful in this skill.  Because if you take it personally, you'd actually be smart enough, ideally, to not take the behavior at all. 

Hmm...

It doesn't mean that the behavior hasn't been hurtful.  It doesn't mean that the overall accumulated message isn't internalized - you are not important enough for me to treat you appropriately.  It has been.  Don't worry.  I got the message.  Over and over and over, again.

Now, one element of this broader skill of making excuses for poor behavior, then, is allowing others to use you as a punching bag to vent their own anger and frustration.  Again, often you know not to take it personally, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't get internalized. 

I still have a long way to go in letting go of making excuses for others, but I have, at least, learned (for the most part) to stop being someone else's punching bag.  At least I can distinguish that part of it. 

Except until today, I wasn't able, necessarily, to articulate it so well. 

So, at an early hour in the morning, not as properly rested as I wanted to be, and taking the comment in concert with another earlier comment, I felt attacked.  Whether real or imagined, I probably still can't say with accuracy.

But I was feeling vulnerable. 

I wrote what I think was an articulate and even compassionate response to this person who clearly has experienced their own pain.  But I clarified that the description this person had given in response to my post was not accurate as applied to me. 

And then, as this person cowardly came to the "fight" armed only with bad spelling as his or her only tool, I decided it was appropriate to bring an army.   I totally over-reacted.  I know I over-reacted.

And after I summoned my army, I wrote my post about needing to have Thicker Skin and then finally headed off to start my day.

But I have taken some serious time today thinking - a la Sticks & Stones - as to why I reacted so strongly to someone who cannot clearly articulate his or her position which seems to have little to no relevance to what I actually posted.  Many friends kindly and privately asked me why I was reacting so strongly, and made clear that I did not need to waste my energy giving it to such a person.  And they were all correct, and I knew it even before I summoned them. 

But I wasn't feeling so strong today, and so I over-reacted and called an army.  And in doing so I confirmed something I already knew, I am not alone.  I am part of a community.  And even though my friends standing on the sideline thought I looked strong and had this weak person licked and that I didn't seem to need any help, they still responded to my call. 

I have been a punching bag.  I will no longer be a punching bag.  And when I am not strong enough to fight back on my own, I will call my army.  And they will make sure you know that I am not a punching bag.  I may seem weak.  And I may be weak, at times, but with my community I will stand strong. 

Even if I have to over-react to do so... ;)

Thank you so much to all the folks who provided me support publicly and privately, even despite my irrational over-reaction.  You are awesome! 

Thicker Skin...

I recognize that if I'm going to be a blogger -- particularly if my aspirations are to be as big (or even 1/1,000th as big) as Jenny --  then I need to develop thicker skin. 

Last week, I had a bad day / night / early morning.  It was not my first one, and it will not be my last one.  Some are easier to deal with and shrug off, and some are harder to shrug off.  There are some mornings, I admit, that I sit in my car and cry for no real apparent reason, no particular trigger I can point to as to what set me off. 

And it sucks.

I am in the middle of a healing process.  Those of you who read me regularly know that I ended a 10+year marriage about three years ago.  And since then, I had fallen in love with another woman who is not available but whom I love deeply and miss terribly.  A good friend who helped lift me up after I had fallen and to whom I am eternally grateful.

But these have been hard blows, and even the strongest of people would need time to heal.  And I am, by far, not the strongest of people.

I am human.  I am vulnerable.  And yes, I admit wholly, that this blog has partly been created to help me in my healing process - to confirm that I am not alone, and perhaps to let others know that they, too, are not alone.

And in that process, I take risk.  I expose myself - despite the anonymity that I continue to struggle with keeping. 

In the wee early hours of that bad morning, I wrote a post.  I knew I was leaving myself vulnerable and open, and when I posted the link on Twitter, I asked "dear readers, be gentle." 

Over the months, I've written a couple of posts like this, some I've published, many sit unpublished.  One of my biggest struggles is with my ADD.  Another is, clearly, depression.  I like to hope it's just situational depression, and once I make it further down the line, it will begin to dissipate more, but frankly, regardless of the cause, it isn't fun. 

As I have written in my Sticks & Stones posts (with all the follow-ups, and still more promised and remaining to be written), I have discovered that words hurt when they attack something we are already feeling insecure about.  So when an anonymous commenter left a comment "Poor poor me" and then misspelled pity party and added a few other "insults" that don't really stick, I deleted it.  It was not a simple decision, but one I made quickly and decisively. 

Not surprising, the anonymous commenter returned.  Or at least I assume it was the same anonymous commenter, since he or she seems to have the same difficulty with spelling that the original one did.

And I know that writing here, I am inviting said anonymous commenter to respond again.  I am inviting trouble.

But I guess here's the thing.  If I'm going to blog, and I'm going to share my experience - the good, the bad, and the ugly - then I guess I must develop a thicker skin. 

Yes, perhaps I was having a pity party that morning.  Guess what?  One of those labels over there is that "I'm human".  It happens.  It happens more than perhaps I care to share - but when I do, well, you can either serenade me with the smallest violin you have, or you can support me to get past that moment.  I admit there are times when I need a good kick in the butt.  And I invite and welcome readers to give me said kick when they think I am wallowing and need it. 

But if you're going to give me a kick in the butt, I'm gonna ask a few things of you.  First, be respectful.  Even though I'm an anonymous blogger who pretends to be a cube-shaped Borg, the reality is that I am a person.  I - CLEARLY - have feelings.  Tough love is fine.  Telling me that I need to get off my butt and get doing things is fine.  Even telling me that you're tired of my whining is fine - although, frankly, I'm not forcing you to read my blog, you can go somewhere else if you think I'm whining too much.  Generally, I can handle critical responses.  I know I'm not perfect.  I know I need improvement, and heck, the message was clear, in fact, that I was asking for help.  So if you want to give me a kick in the butt and be helpful go ahead, but, please, be respectful.

For one thing, it gives your comment a better chance of really being heard rather than dismissed.  If you just throw insults at me, frankly, I have better things to do with MY time...

Second, be specific.  Some general observations are obvious.  But if you're going to suggest I've done x, y or z, and I haven't explicitly written I've done x, y or z, at least support your conclusion.  Don't just randomly say I'm abusive and cruel to one-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eaters without at least telling me why you've reached that conclusion.  I am open to dialog.  I encourage dialog.  I want to hear others' opinions including ones that are different from my own, and I'm here trying to grow and become a better person.  If you read my blog, I think you can come to that conclusion fairly reasonably. 

But lobbing a grenade and running is not productive, not helpful, not wanted, not needed.  My ex-wife threw enough of those, thank you.  My life is not yet where I would want it to be because of such grenades.  Perhaps, then, I'm a little (overly?) sensitive to baseless insults that leave no substance or logic to which I might respond or might be able to use productively to improve who I am.

I know I need to grow a thicker skin.  Not everyone will like what I have to say.  The more people who read, the more likely I am to get anonymous "haters".  Perhaps I should take it as a badge of honor - clearly I've said something that has hit home to someone else.  Even if hitting "home" didn't elicit a positive response.  Clearly, nonetheless, my words had power.

Now, if you are looking for a person who isn't going to have a pity party once in awhile, you're reading the wrong blog.  I'll try to keep them to a minimum, and I'll try at least to be productive and thoughtful when I do.  I don't claim to be perfect.  I am human.  That's one of the things I told you from the beginning and I'm sure I will tell you again and again.  And, in the meantime, the lesson I will take from and try to work on from even the negative comments, is to develop thicker skin.   


P.S.  Clearly, "clearly" is the word of the day... so there!
P.P.S.  No one-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eaters were harmed in the writing of this post...

Incompetence, ADD and Quicksand

Right now, at 5:30 AM as I begin to type this post, I feel tremendously incompetent.  First of all, I am sleep deprived.  And I'm hungry, and there is no real food in the house.  Both of these contribute to an increase in emotional response.

I feel like I've dug myself into a hole and I can't get out. And it's ridiculous.  It is completely ridiculous.  Anyone on the real life side can tell you easily what steps I should take on some of these big items.  *I* can tell you what steps I need to take, but I can't seem to take them.

It's been three years, and I am still stuck in this hole.

The reality is, even once I do start taking those positive steps, I'll still be in this hole for awhile.  There is no easy fix. 

To be clear there are some very concrete issues that are keeping me in this place.  And by place, I mean the hole, not simply here or even specifically here in this small town.

As I was trying to fall asleep I was thinking about my ideal solution to get my life in order, and to move forward. What is it that I would need to pull myself together and get past this survival mode into a mode where I thrive. 

And the answer that is abundantly clear and yet absurdly impossible and unrealistic to find is a very, very patient partner / coach.  Someone who will subtly train me while I'm not paying attention into developing better habits and better skills for managing my day-to-day life.  Much like I'm teaching the girls soccer even while we play other games.  Someone who will start out the day - preferably by jumping on the bed and wagging their tail, but that's a different memory - ready and excited with a plan for the day.  Someone who will start my day by saying, "Here's what we're doing today!" 

The key word is "we".  You can give me a plan. You can tell me this is what I need to do for the day.  And I might even get several of the items done.  And believe me, having a regular plan is a big start.  Huge start.  Big improvement over what I'm able to manage for myself.  But what I really need is someone by my side holding my hand until I learn how to do it myself. 

The person would have to have a lot of patience.  The person would probably have to love me very much to tolerate me and my stubbornness.  The person would have to recognize that even if I teasingly resist, I will relent.  If that person is there to do it with me - whatever it is - I'll do it. 

But I can't seem to manage on my own.  I can't seem to do this alone.

My life, outwardly, is a mess.  For example, the yard is unruly and jungle-like.  After the poison ivy, any desire I had to clean it up and risk repeated rash was long gone.  I do try and spend a few minutes every so often - but today, for instance, I started to itch and stopped and scrubbed myself with poison ivy oil remover.

I have GREAT reasons / excuses for a lot of what I do and don't do.  But for some things, I have no explanation at all other than I just can't.  I don't know why I can't.  There's no rational reasonable explanation - and believe me I've searched high and low for it.   ADD is part of it - and perhaps it's a big part of it.  I kinda want it to be the reason because then at least I'd have a reason.  And given that so many other limitations I've found over my life can sometimes be traced back to ADD (an inability whatsoever, for example, to read a non-fiction book unless it's telling a story).  Then, in theory, if I managed to fix the ADD - or manage its symptoms - then maybe I'd finally be able to fix everything else.

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But maybe I am too scared to thrive....

In my adolescent years, my family experienced what is now fairly typical drama and turmoil, but at the time, with all those adolescent hormones enhancing emotions, it was a hard time.  I learned early on - even before the family drama - how to "survive".  I am GREAT at surviving.  That was my motto during my junior high and high school years - one I repeated often to my adult mentor - "I will survive" - and I have.  And I do.

It wasn't until I had been with my ex-wife for a year or so that I begun to do more than just survive.  That I began to do more than just provide for the basic necessities for myself.  I was in a safe and secure relationship - this woman and I pledged to spend our lives together.  She seemed to love me unconditionally - and I do, even still, believe that.  With her, I was finally able to dream, to think about what it was that I wanted out of life, and that gave me the courage and the strength to take some risks and try something new that was ultimately in many ways quite rewarding, despite the concerns others expressed over the potential folly of my choices. 

When I was with her, I finally felt free to thrive, safe to thrive.  And it was glorious.  I only have one wish in this world, frankly, and that is to be in a place in life, again, where I can thrive.  Where I can feel safe and secure to hope for more than just the necessities in my life. 

I learned long ago that the best way to avoid disappointment and being hurt was to keep your expectations reasonable.  In fact, screw reasonable, keep your expectations low and then you may just be pleasantly surprised. 

Thriving is about striving for more than what is reasonable and safe and expected.  It's about taking chances and recognizing there may be disappointments on the path, but that overall things are good.  Overall, the path I am on is leading me some place I want to go, and some place that I will enjoy when I get there - and I will enjoy both the journey and the destination.

Thriving is something like that.

With the ex, I tried something crazy and embarked in a different direction in my life.  The road I had been on was a good one - a secure one.  There was nothing wrong with the road I was on before that.  But I wanted to try this different road.  Many people thought I was nuts, including my family.  But it was a good road, and I enjoyed the journey while I was on it, and just as I was beginning to hit my stride, she got scared.  Scared that this new path might lead me away from her.  And over time, slowly but surely, she began to put big boulders on this path.  Until at one point, much like a Wile E. Coyote / Roadrunner cartoon, she took the Acme dynamite and just blew up the road altogether. 

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Now to be clear, I am not abdicating my responsibility for my relationship or my contribution towards its demise.  Anyone who knows the full story or who has heard me tell it will tell you that I take full responsibility for my actions, my inactions, my contribution to the situation imploding.  But most who watched it unfold also realized that my wife was not well, and that frankly, there was a lot about the situation that was completely out of my control and also completely not about me, even though I suffered heavily from the shrapnel. 

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But it makes me wonder if maybe despite how much I want to thrive, I am too scared to thrive.  I am too scared to want, to hope, to dream of something more in my life.  Because the more you have, the more that can be taken away from you.

That if I continue to live in this abject poverty, measured not simply by normal financial standards of "wealth" but with the asceticism physically and emotionally I have in my life, then there isn't much to take away from me.  (Asceticism may not be the best word, DEARTH might be a good word). 

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When I first began to heal from the wounds inflicted by the Acme dynamite, I had a good friend there to hold my hand.  Who had a surprisingly significant capacity of patience for me.  Who loved me very deeply.  Who would come downstairs on Saturday mornings during the ever so brief (it seems, but wasn't at the same time) period I lived with her and would jump on my bed to get me up and going and wag her tail excited to start the weekend and set with the plans for us to do. 

She moved away, unfortunately, and left me here behind.  The two things were separate, and the latter was not deliberate - I think if she could have stayed, without taking Acme dynamite to HER life, she might have.  And I miss her tremendously. 

When she was here, fitness was important to her.  And at one point, she trained for a long distance endurance event, and I was her training buddy.  We worked out nine times a week for twenty weeks to prepare her for an awesome race.  And I lost about as many pounds.   Working out was a breeze.  It didn't feel like working out because it was time spent together enjoying each other's company.  It was time to catch up on the day.  It was fun setting the plan and preparing the schedule for the week together.  And I was in the best shape of my life.

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And now I look at pictures of myself - when I take a picture of more than just a head shot - and I recognize that I am now in the worst shape of my life.  Again, I briefly allowed myself to thrive a little, to trust and depend upon someone, and they're gone and with it they took a part of my security and stability.  (To be clear I have a very strong sense of self, and a very strong core being.  This was about something more than that.  This was about life gravy - not basic survival.  Lest you think I'm too unhealthy... ;) )

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ADD often makes a bad situation worse - it makes you feel like your stuck in quicksand.  Apparently the best thing to do if you get stuck in quicksand is not to struggle and flail about - it will only make you sink faster.  But instead to be calm, still.  I'm not sure, exactly, how it is you get yourself out once you are calm and still - I only know what makes it worse, to be frank.  The one time I stepped in it, I stepped out of it quite quickly, too...

But with the ADD it feels like even when I make an effort, even when I try to get out of this hole, this pit of quicksand, that my efforts only land me more securely stuck here. 

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So logic says just stay still.  But I don't know, once I stop making it worse (IF I'm stopping making it worse) how to get out of here, anyway.  I feel incompetent.

I need someone to help me.  To train me.  To teach me the skills I need.  To apply some structure - not rigid, but still structure - to my life.  So that I know on Saturday I do x chores, and on such and such an evening I do such and such errands and on Friday nights I go out for Happy Hour!  And I need to be a wee bit more financially secure so that I *can* do more things.  Frankly one of the reasons I don't like to go grocery shopping is that I can't afford the cost.  And yet, I can't really afford not to eat, either, now can I?   Kind of a Catch-22 there.

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So, if you know anyone who is willing to stand on stable ground and help pull me out of the quicksand, have them drop me a line.  I'm trainable.  Quite trainable.  But that someone will need patience.  And love.  And preferably if they're a cute available secure dyke, well, that won't hurt, either. 

Because even if I am scared, I still want to thrive.  I want to get out of this quicksand.  And as I think about it more - as I write about it here - I think that is the answer as to how someone gets out of literal quicksand, someone else, standing on secure ground helps pull them out... Just stick around a little longer and, again, have lots of patience.  It won't be easy... but it will be worthwhile.  That I can promise. 

Holes

Some times people leave your life and they leave a hole where they used to be.  In your life. In your heart.  Even in your day, sometimes, if they were the type to interact with you daily. 

And you try to fill the hole that they left with other things, other people, other distractions.  Because the reality is that in life people come and go, and mostly, we are helpless to stop them.  (Resistance is futile, damnit!)  We hope that they'll stay awhile, enjoy our company, and never want to go, but usually there comes a time and they must be on their way.

One of my friends reminded me of this just over three years ago.  She sent me this e-mail about how people are in your life for a moment, a season, or a life-time.  That sometimes people are just there for a reason for that moment, and when that moment or that season is passed, so does the friendship or relationship.  At the time she sent it was a particularly difficult morning for me as I was beginning to recognize and accept that my relationship with my wife - something that was supposed to be forever - was over.   I wasn't ready to accept those words of wisdom, that encouraged letting people go when it was time.  I remember screaming loudly in my (fortunately private) office that morning when I read her e-mail and took that next step in accepting what was.  (I have, since, for the most part accepted that - and that is not what this is about)

I've never been particularly good at letting go.  You can tell because this is a theme that I keep revisiting.  Because I can't let go, easily.

That Dalai Lama says to find those things in your life that bring you happiness and hold onto them.  That's all I've been trying to do... 

In the meantime, I do my best with what I have to try and fill the hole that has been left by someone very dear to me.  Some days - particularly hormonal days like today that make me more emotional - are harder than others.  Sometimes everywhere I look I see where she once was but is not now.   I want to hear her voice, her "luv ya" at the end of a phone call, at the end of an e-mail, or at the end of a text.  Feel her arms holding me tight both in happiness and in sadness.  Her holding my hand in compansionship.  Someone to laugh at my jokes.  To just give me that smile that brightens my day.  And to be someone special to her.  To know that my presence, too, has brightened her day...

There is a hole there where she used to be... and no matter how hard I dig, I just can't seem to fill it...

Sounds of Silence

Raise your hand if you are comfortable with silence. No, I'm not talking about having your kids be silent - although certainly the silence when they are out of the house and you are home without them, I'm certain (if I had kids) would be quite pleasant.

Certainly there are moments in our hectic and busy lives when silence is welcome.

But how many of us are truly comfortable with silence? I have become less surprised in life to discover how many people fall asleep with the television on. That "sleep" function on your remote control for your television, where it turns off after sixty, ninety minutes or even two hours, has been around for a long time. Clearly it serves a purpose for many of us.

"Hello darkness, my old friend..." starts the song by Simon & Garfunkel. I was a pre-teen when I bought one of my very first non-consumable item with my own money. It was a digital radio alarm clock. And I had it well into my thirties, and probably, if I hadn't fled my home, I probably would still have it in some box of junk (I fear going back to the storage unit of what I was able to salvage, and finding it there, although I'd also probably be quite happy to see that "old friend", too).

It got replaced by an iClock when those were first new, where you could recharge your iPod on your clock, and play your iTunes as well as the radio through it. But I digress.

When I was a young girl, before I bought my magic clock, I would take my big boxy radio (about the size of a toaster) and hide it under my pillow as I went to sleep, to muffle the sound so my parents wouldn't hear it, and listen to music through the pillow as I fell asleep.

These days I have a few television series on Hulu that I've seen before, so if I fall asleep I won't "miss" anything, although usually there's this moment just before I fall asleep where I actually manage to reach out, touch the mousepad, and pause it before I completely crash.

When I had a television in the house, I admit that we were one of those households where it was always on. I can't drive anywhere for much distance without music in the car (including the three miles to work) - unless there is someone else there to fill the gap.

Treadmills at the gyms these days often have televisions in them. Or if not, there's certainly one on the wall blaring whatever show they think most commonly would be enjoyed by others. (Regardless of whether they do or not).  We invented Walkmen for us to live in our own world of sound and block out others. 

Stores and restaurants all have radio stations or muzak on in them or a television in the background. Heck, even elevators, the original home of muzak, of course has music in them, and in many of the skyscrapers, we now have videos - to get that thirty second blip of information or advertising in that we can.

Those who live in the city are used to a certain hum. It's referred to as "noise pollution". When they come outside of the city they are almost deafened (I know it's strange) by the silence.

I was working job #2 the other night, and we had closed, and a rain monsoon swept in (okay, maybe not a monsoon, but it was creating a nice swirling flood in the street between the restaurant and my car). I was waiting for the manager to finish up and the storm to subside before getting drenched by the storm. He'd already turned off the radio for the night, but the storm took out the power while I was waiting, and then there was real silence. We forget, sometimes, how much noise all of our machines around us make.

On an ironic side note, nonetheless, I have to close my bedroom door at night before I go to sleep, because the ticking of the kitchen clock drives me mad.

Those who meditate, though, savor the peace that the silence brings them.  (Assuming they manage to actually find a space where they can have that silence uninterrupted).  I envy them that moment of peace.  I wish I were better able to enjoy moments of silence rather than always seek to silence them.  I lose so much of my life because I want to be distracted, and because, then, I become distracted. 

Writing these posts is one of the few moments in my day where I turn off the distractions, so that the inspiration and the words can flow.  Perhaps this is my form of meditation.  Even then, the sound of a text or an IM will sometimes pull me away - even for a moment. 

A friend of mine recently gave me an "exercise" to do and the first instruction was to "slow down and spend quiet time with you".  While yes, I have read further in her instructions, I'm not apparently really able to get past that first instruction.   Spend quiet time with me.

Except in the shower.  No wonder so many "brilliant" posts come to me there? ;)

(See, even now, I try to joke to deflect away from the seriousness of the idea of spending quiet time with myself...)

But I know that I am not alone.  I know that many of you, too, have trouble enjoying the silence.  Perhaps we are afraid, as Simon & Garfunkel warned, that silence like a cancer grows? 

And let's face it, it isn't just with ourselves.  How many of us can feel awkward spending time with another when that moment of silence comes up in conversation?  If we're eating, at least, we have an excuse - we are busy putting food into our mouths and therefore it would be impolite to speak.  But you know you are truly comfortable with someone when you can sit side by side with them and say nothing, and perhaps just hold hands.  Just enjoy that moment of being with each other. 

And that, perhaps my friends, is the lesson.  You will know (I will know) that we are truly comfortable with ourselves when we can just sit there with ourselves and say nothing, and perhaps just hold our own hand.  And enjoy that moment of being with ourselves. 

Let's all give it a try this week, shall we?  Come back and report, if you will...


P.S. In a completely fitting moment, while I was writing this a good friend who is taking a long road trip this morning, literally while I was writing this, tweeted about needing a new stereo in her car... thus providing one more example of how we are not comfortable with the silence.  (As well as, I admit, an example of how I allow myself still to be distracted during these moments myself...)