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. 

Risky Business....

... and yes, you do show your age, if what you just thought about was a 16 year old Tom Cruise sliding along in his whitey-tighties...

The whole relationship business is a risky business.  I have just spent the last week with my family working on condensing some of my belongings that were in storage to a smaller amount.  Getting rid of some of the vestiges of my last long-term committed relationship.  And if that weren't enough impetus to send me down memory lane and throw up some red flags regarding the risk of relationships, the ex whom I hadn't heard from in two years decided to rear her ugly head. 

My family is concerned about this move to Vancouver - rightly so, in theory - because of the risk it may not work out. 

It may not work out. 

That's true.

A crappy possibility, but a possibility nonetheless. 

And here's the thing.  If it doesn't work out, the folks here in this small town have made quite clear to me that I am welcome back.  And Robin Sparkles, who also lives on the West Coast, could probably tolerate me as a short-term room-mate if it didn't work out. 

If it didn't work out, what I have learned from the last relationship, is that it isn't the end of the world.

Now, for awhile there, that wasn't clear.  My ex was a frightening mentally ill woman who made the last few months I was living in the same state with her, let alone home, hell.  Actually, she made hell look good...

Needless to say, I haven't really missed her.  I'd like to.  I'd like to have fond memories of the time we've spent together.  I'd like to remember the woman I did fall in love with fondly, and just think it was a shame that it didn't work out.

But it REALLY didn't work out in the end. 

I've spent a lot of time the last three and a half - nearly four now - years trying to figure out what I could have done differently.  IF I could have done anything differently.  IF I should have left earlier than I did.  Trying to solve the "problem" so that I could avoid repeating the mistakes.

I've been looking at that a lot more intensely these last six months as I've embarked upon this new relationship.

Because even though it may not work out, I know you'll be surprised to discover that isn't my preference. 

It is easy - perhaps even preferable - to blame it all on the ex's mental illness.  It's simpler that way, right?  But I'm not a person who can make things simple, sometimes. And, I am a person who tries to accept responsibility for my own actions. 

So what words of advice after all this reflection would I give my new love about living with me?  What can I do to prepare us for a good life?  And how can I enter this new life without the insecurities planted by the old one?

I think I've healed.  I'd like to think I've healed.  I hope I've healed.

But then she comes back, two years after the last contact, the last thrashing of me, and rears her ugly head.  Her e-mails start off sounding reasonable, normal, even pleasant.  Well-wishing, peaceful, still loves me and forgives me.  But it doesn't take long before the anger bursts forth. 

That's always fun...

Particularly fun to have dumped on you when you're excited and happy for new changes and new possibilities in your life... and trying to get a lot of stuff done so you can take that next step...

Particularly when you wonder when the next shoe will drop... what is coming next... if it will ever be over.  If she will ever just let go. 

It makes a girl pause about entering into ANOTHER relationship. 

I mean apparently I've ruined the ex's life.  Is it fair for me to do that to someone else? Will I do that to someone else?

And how can I make promises of "forever" again knowing that it didn't work out the last time...?

There are no guarantees.  There simply aren't.  Relationships are a risky business...

But if we're lucky.. more time will be spent sliding across floors in our underwear together, then worrying about replacing the precious crystal egg. 

Flip a Coin...

Sometimes it would be nice if you could make the hard decisions easier by just flipping a coin. 

Heads, I end the blog post here with that one line.  Tails, I write more...

Tails.. Damnit.

;)

As many of you know, I've not been happy with the work I've been doing - my contract - for some time now.  I thought when one aspect of the project came to an end at the end of September that it would be it, they would thank me for my time, and I'd be moving on.  I stockpiled at Sam's club.  (That reminds me, I should have spaghetti for dinner tonight...).  I prepared for a period of unemployment and was gently surprised when the end didn't come.

I briefly got excited about a full-time opportunity with them, with benefits, but that didn't come either.  And so for the last four or five months I've been biding my time trying to figure out what I'm doing, and whether or not it was time to start looking for other opportunities.  But at some level, I am committed to them. 

Except I wasn't supposed to be.  Originally, when we approached this local business run by someone who my partner and I both knew from church, this was supposed to be a gap-filler for me while we looked for the work we supposedly wanted to do.  Initially, we hadn't exactly made any promises to be there long-term, and the point was that we wanted this job to provide some flexibility, so that if I got another project in the area where were hoping to build our business, we could put this one on the back burner and bring it back up to full boil when each other project ended.  It was intended to supplement our other business development.

But they were happy with the work, and it was providing steady pay, and it was 30 hours a week, so there wasn't a lot of room to fill in around it.  And the opportunities weren't there immediately, and by the time they might have been, I seemed to have settled comfortably into this, and we didn't want to rock the boat. 

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.  ;)

But seriously, one of the things we were hoping for and expecting with this assignment was some flexibility.  And slowly, but surely, as time has gone on that flexibility has eroded.  So much so that shortly, after they finish installing software onto a computer that I can use, it would be hard pressed to make the legal distinctions between me as a contractor and me as an employee.  Now it has come all down to the hours I work, and that the hours I work are on-site.  Certainly no longer encouraging me to work on the project when I want to, nor making me want to work on the project much at all.

If I were not planning on moving from here, this would be an even more delicate situation than it is.  I'm ready to be done with this.  I need something different, something that doesn't keep holding the potential end of the contract over my head like the blade of a guillotine, and something that brought me more security and ideally an opportunity, perhaps, for benefits.  They have had an opportunity to hire me for awhile, but seem deliberately to have chosen not to.  And I don't know, had they made me a job offer, it would necessarily have been better than what I have - it may not have been.  But, it would have been nice to have had the chance to decide.

There's that annoying song by Beyonce about "put a ring on it" - and it's only annoying, of course, because it gets stuck in your head and at random times, you'll find yourself singing "uh, uh, oh.. oh,oh, oh oh...." (you'll have to know what I'm singing to know what I'm singing, but I think you know! You're welcome!).   And a part of me thinks that he has had plenty of opportunity to make me a more permanent employee and secure my loyalty, and that he hasn't done so should give me some freedom, some freedom without GUILT, to not feel so loyal to him.  To move on. 

Instead, there's been a bit of an arrogant boyfriend chipping away at your self-esteem kind of pattern going on.  And if this were a romantic relationship, not being happy, not getting what you need out of the relationship, well, it might seem like a no-brainer.  Particularly if he hadn't put a ring on it! ;)

So why am I agonizing over this? I have a new opportunity in front of me.  And while it might not have been the one I thought I was looking for professionally, I am prepared to make a change and a positive one for my future.  Why am I allowing this outstanding string to act as a yoke?

As I was telling someone else earlier today by chat, it isn't as if I am relying upon him for a good recommendation....

Oh, wait... it's that whole burning bridges thing.  That wherever you can prevent burning a bridge, you should try to avoid doing so.  That's generally a good plan, I admit.  And I have been fortunate the one time I napalmed a bridge on my way out of a job, it actually got rebuilt, and I was rehired nonetheless.  I did feel a bit of regret at having napalmed it, but, overall, things worked out fine in the end.

And where does this bridge I'm afraid to burn leave me anyway?

Is this really a Kobayashi Maru scenario? (and yes, I did have to google to remember the name of the unwinnable scenario from Star Trek - despite the Borg name, I am NOT that geeky (or so I pretend)).  In which case, why am I so worried? Or what am I so worried about? 

I don't know. 

Flip a coin.. Heads I leave tomorrow (okay,well, maybe not THAT quickly).. tails I get stuck here, forever (definitely NOT!).  Maybe I need one of those D&D dice so I can have a few more options...

Wait.. who just turned into a geek?

Sometimes you gotta be the ass...

And not just in Mexican Donkey Wedding dances - or whatever they are... (great, now I can JUST imagine the NEW searches that will now find me...)

Having fun with church politics and breaking in a new priest.  He's great.  And fortunately, because he's new and he has a collar, and all that, people will listen to him.  Me? I get to be the ass.  Which I can live with as long as we get things done.  People don't realize we're playing "Good cop, bad cop".. and it's a good thing they don't read this blog..

But sometimes it's what is needed in order to get things done.. And that's, frankly, all I want to see - stuff getting done.

Matrix...? Inception..? Facebook!

Now, that's a damn scary conclusion...

So, I created this blog once upon a time, and did so anonymously, so that I could feel free to talk about certain relationships in my life and certain people and not compromise their privacy.  That just because I wanted to share things about me, didn't mean I should share things about them.

So what do you do when you create an anonymous blog for that purpose, and then you meet folks doing it, and then you want to share stuff about them? But about you.  But about them??

Do I create an anonymous blog within the blog?  Hell - that seems like a lot of work to cultivate a new set of followers, and frankly, with three different worlds out there, I would get very confusing.  Matrix-like .. Inception-like.

It seems my only choice is to go *gasp!* back to Facebook...

Hmm....

Priorities Change

DISCLOSURE:  The only thing I have going in on this post is the title.. I have no idea where this will go, so buckle up and enjoy the ride.


Sometimes in life, certain things will happen that will make you see things - perhaps everything - in a different light.  Suddenly make you realize that things you thought were important aren't, and perhaps make you value things you didn't realize were important, even more. 

If you're lucky, this change in perspective is something that reflects even more accurately the true you - the you that you have been becoming or trying to be.

It can be an amazing epiphany. 

Whether you've had or are having a life changing moment, the reality is that all the moments of your life have led you to this one.  And this moment will lead you to another one.  You can't help it - it's what happens.  It's life.  And you can let these moments just pass you by, or you can - in the spirit of the Dead Poets' Society - seize the day.  Carpe diem..

Enjoy where you're at.  Enjoy what has made you you.  Celebrate yourself. 

And if you're reading this right now and you don't feel like you can do that, well... first, *hugs*.  Second, do something to change that.  Change what's making you miserable.  Change what you value.  Really look at what is important, and focus on that - value that.  If it brings you unhappiness, if it turns you away from others, from experiencing the joy in life, then maybe - just maybe - it's not that important. 

The Dalai Lama says that the Art of Happiness is finding those things in life that bring you joy and maximizing them.  And "things" frankly is the wrong word, because I'll tell you people, things don't bring you happiness.  They might bring you comfort, or amusement, but things never, never bring happiness. 

My life has taken a significant change lately.  My perspective has a tremendously different shift.  And I am happy. 

May you all be so blessed. 

P.S. I turned 42 on Saturday.  And I have joked for nearly 30 years probably that 42 is the answer to everything from Doug Adams The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which I've never read. So as I approached this birthday, I kept feeling - down in my bones, perhaps, or just joking at the surface, who knows - but I kept telling folks that I was looking forward to 42 because it was the answer to everything.  And you know, when I turned 42 - the minute I was 42 - I, indeed, had the answer to everything.

It is amazing. 

Blog-Post-On-Demand

Not quite as sexy as an on-demand pay-per-view channel, but, it'll have to do.

Alt title: Oh, yeah, so that's what this feels like...

My paternal grandmother was bipolar - except then, we called it manic-depressive.  And so there's always been this underlying awareness that it can run in families, and, well... whenever I have gone into see someone who shrink-wraps, I always am sure to mention this.  I've never really thought I was, but I'm not the professional, now am I?

I never really thought I was because while I had the "mania" - attributable also to my ADD - I was never really depressed.  I can't say I was always "happy", but for the most part, I think I was relatively well balanced.  Until, oh, about, three and a half years ago. 

And even then, my depression was understandable.  I described it as situational.  A certainly understandably depressing situation had most certainly been at the root of it.  And that explained the first year.  And being alone in a new town.. Well, maybe that explained the second year.  But really, by the third year, shouldn't I be freaking done with this depression thing?  Yes, I could see subtle improvements.  I could look back at the year before and say I was better than I had been.  But damn, if this wasn't taking forever.

And I can't say I'm out of the woods yet.  I still see lots of trees blocking the sun around me.  But I can say in the last month and a half, there has been significant, noticeable, improvement.  Periods of excitement and energy and - dare I say it - happiness have been more than just fleeting.

A lot of it, I recognize, centers around the new position at the church. I forget, sometimes, how much I like people.  How much I truly enjoy them.  And as a result of this new position, I have taken it upon myself to sit down with as many of our members as I can.  And I'm loving it.  Just loving it.  Finding things that people are getting excited about.  Pulling out areas where they may thrive within the community.  Finding people to support others who took a particular ministry on their own. 

My theme, by the way, (even though I don't *need* a theme) is sharing the ministry.  And I feel strongly about this, and could get on a roll, and bore you all to death, although keep you mildly entertained by the energy and excitement *I* feel about it.  But I'm loving what I'm doing.  I'm enjoying seeing seeds I have planted begin to take root.  I am excited about the possibilities.  I feel like I have found my calling.  Maybe not my long-term calling, but a short-term one and I am enjoying it.

Which I haven't done in a long while. 

Oh.  Yeah.. So this is what happiness feels like.  So this is what it's like to enjoy my life, again.  There is a light at the end of that tunnel - there is sun beyond those trees.  I will emerge.  I am emerging.  Damn, that sunshine on my face feels good. 

P.S.  The problem with blog posts on demand is that there is the possibility that I might end up taking your request and using it to write about something only remotely related.  I can't help where the spirit takes me... ;)  So, my friend, I know I barely touched on what you wanted me to write about.  But maybe in another post... ;)

A sheepish "Ooops!" and post #200

Baa-aa-aaa!

So, as I wrote in the last post, the final issue that tipped me over to getting the iPhone replaced was the difficulty I was having with listening to music even though I had hit shuffle on the playlist, it kept repeating whichever song I was on over and over.  And I was frustrated that I couldn't turn off the iPhone to reset and reboot the problem.  That THIS was what finally made me do something. And then, the next morning, after it had been rebooted, having the problem continue was what led to my brief (let's humor me) rant that I posted.

Today, the new iPhone arrived. Rather the new-old iPhone. And I kept my tweeps informed minute by minute as I awaited the restoration of my old phone's data onto my new phone, and the status of pictures, music, apps, etc.  It was very riveting stuff.

But, finally, I get it mostly configured the way I want it.  As best as it's going to get for now, and I decide to try out the speakers, and play a song from the music library I have downloaded onto my iPhone.

And the f-ing song repeats. Swear to God.  WTF? I mean this stupid bug must be with the system, or some virus, or.. oh.. wait... if I click up near the name.. What's that? Oh.. the controls for shuffle and repeat?  And, what is that? the phone is on repeat 1?

Oooops....

Well.. I needed to get myself a new phone anyway. 

This is my 200th published post (there are several unpublished ones).  I am grateful, like sheep, you all continue to follow me... Baa-aa-aaa! 

Stick around and share with your friends. :)

Old iPods

I have an old clunky 20 GB white iPod that contains most of the music I owned before.  I don't even know if I still have the computer with the iTunes with the library of all the CDs I had once owned and burned.  I thought it was on an external hard drive, but I'm not exactly certain where that hard drive is.

But that is an aside.

I took a trip across country in 2007, and the old clunky 20 GB white iPod died.  Pfft.  Done.  Couldn't be revived.  And it was horrible at the time because I was driving long days - going from friend to friend.  My father replaced it at Christmas that year with a first generation iPod Touch (with LESS memory) which has mostly been replaced by my iPhone.

All of the above is mostly verbal vomit dancing around the real topic of this post.

At some point, after Dad bought me the iTouch, I was surprised to discover the white iPod worked.  Still to this day no idea why.  But now I have this little (relatively heavy) archive of music I used to listen to. 

When I took off on that cross country trip, it was after having had a marriage counseling appointment that my wife had not come to.  The third such appointment for couples counseling that I attended singly.  In the eight years we had been together, I had learned (poorly) that when my spouse was in this angry place that the best thing to do was to give her space.  I sucked at it.  I wanted to fix things.  I wanted her to feel better.. and I wanted to do whatever I could to help her feel better.  But I couldn't.  The only way for her to feel better was to leave her be.  And that was hard.

I was at a transition point in my life.  About to embark on a new job in a new career that I was scared about, but excited about, too.  At that moment in time, though, I had no employment obligations and this new career was likely to be all-time-consuming with little to no opportunity for future vacation and I had never driven across country, and really wanted to do so.  The lease to the car was about to expire, and since I had stopped the 100 mile daily commute two years earlier, we had plenty of miles pre-paid to spare. 

So I got home from counseling, packed up the trunk, and took off across the country.  It was a wonderful trip in so many ways, but bittersweet given the circumstances that partly inspired it. 

I had a lot of time on the road to think.  I needed it, too.  And I have to say that my faith in God grew much stronger on this trip.  Against all odds, frankly.  I remember driving through mountain passes and asking - out loud - what am I supposed to do?

I created this road trip play list my second day in when I was at the hotel at night in New Mexico.  In addition to good songs to keep me awake while I drove, I filled it half with love songs and half with "she done me wrong" songs to try and figure out which songs were calling to me more.  Seriously.  And the love songs were the ones that continued to call to my heart.  I loved her.  More deeply than I could have ever imagined.  Even though she was crazy and driving me crazy and pushing me away.

I loved her.  And that was the underlying message I received, at some level, was to just love her.  To open my heart wider and love her. 

I spent a year and a half doing that, my heart open as wide as it could be, and so when I walked away - when I finally had to walk away, I was done.   I was done grieving the relationship that once was.  And so, now, when I think back about my ex - and when I have over the last three years, mostly what I feel is numb.  Sometimes, I have even wondered whether I really did love her.  I had put everything that belonged to her, everything that I had given her that she had literally and figuratively thrown back into my face, and put it into a steel box in my heart that was well protected and from which I was well protected. 

When I think about what I was grieving the last three and a half years, it wasn't her.  It was my life.  It was everything I gave up and left behind.  And I never quite knew what to make of it - I kind of thought I should be missing *her* more and aching for *her* more, but I accepted that I didn't because I had already grieved her.  And I do believe it.  But every once in awhile it made me wonder if maybe I hadn't loved her like I thought I did.

Last night, for some reason (God?) I pulled out my old iPod and recharged it.  This morning, for some reason (God?), I decided to bring it into my contract place to listen to while I worked.  And I knew that the best of my music was pulled together in this Road Trip play list, so I selected it and hit play.

It started with simple old country with Alabama belting out "High Cotton", (Old times there are not forgotten..) and moved onto other songs that pulled at the strings of my memory.  I smiled listening to "At the Zoo" by Simon and Garfunkel, started moving to "Move It" by Baja, remembered romantic evenings from college listening to old Tracy Chapman and Indigo Girls.  It was an amusing musical trip down memory lane.  I was figuratively patting myself on my back for having such great music.  There were some tear-jerkers that I resisted being pulled too deeply into - "Bad Goodbye" with Clint and Wynonna, for example - mostly because they had applied to other relationships, too.

I was just zipping along and enjoying the day's soundtrack - my life's soundtrack - until The Promise by Tracy Chapman came on.

Oh, that song... Five minutes and 28 seconds of heart-tug for me.  I think I may have even purchased the CD with that song on it while on the road trip, but I won't swear to it.  But I played that song on repeat for hours.  Particularly when I was away from my spouse, hoping that she would wait for me...

"If you wait for me.... then I'll come for you....although I've travelled far.  I always hold a place for you in my heart..."

Over and over.. "If you think of me... if you miss me once in awhile, then I'll return to you..."  I wanted so badly for her to tell me she missed me, for her to want me to return to her while I was on that trip. 

"Remembering, your touch, your kiss, your warm embrace... I'll find my way back to you... if you'll be waiting..."

Over and over, hours and hours.. the song just encompassed everything that I wanted when I was on that trip.  Everything that I was willing to give to her.... "in a place where I can feel the beating of your heart...." 

"Together again.. it would feel so good to be in your arms.  Where all my journeys end.  If you can make a promise.  If it's one that you can keep.  I vow to come for you. If you wait for me.  And say you'll hold a place for me in your heart."

And with those opening strums of the guitar, the bow across the violin, I was reminded today how very deeply I loved her.  How very much I wanted her to have a place for me in her heart. 

Generally, these days, if you ask me about the woman I left behind, I speak about it all with much distance.  I have grieved the loss of her and I have long since learned to live my life without her in it.  It is easy for me - for you - to dismiss the importance she once held for me because I don't feel it now  - I can't feel it now.  But today, I was reminded.  I once loved her very deeply - and all I wanted was for her to make room for me and want me to return to her.  And back then, I was willing to wait for her, too...

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! ;)

Good enough...

Okay, so an hour ago I found out I have 48 hours until my "handoff" meeting. 

That seemed do-able.  Still does - don't know why I wrote in the past tense!

Put together a macro-punch list of what still needs to be done, and put together a schedule to try and get it done.  (Yoda on my shoulder (he's heavy, by the way) : NO! Try not! Do or do not! There is no try!)

And try and be reasonable and realistic and plan in breaks and other life events.  I cannot - and will not - spend the next forty-eight hours on this project.  (Forty-six now...)

I realize my biggest issue with this project is letting go, and recognizing when it is "good enough". 

"Good enough" is a really hard concept to accept.  There's always a tweak that can make it better.  Letting go, though, and recognizing that something or someone or some event or some whatever is good enough is really tough.  I want to be able to say I did my best, but "good enough" is rarely one's best.  So, I qualify and instead will say, "I did the best I could given the... " whatever comes next refers to limitations.  And even that, sometimes, is not true.  But I have to believe it, and I have to let go.

It is hard for me to realize, and easier for others to see for me, that sometimes my "good enough" is still much better than many people's "best"s and that is even more reason why I should be able to accept "good enough". 

You can see that I am still trying to convince myself. 

But this is an ongoing struggle on a much larger level.  It is a circular fight.  At some level, we have to give ourselves permission to be human, and to not be perfect, and to accept that we do, generally, do the best that we can given the circumstances.  We do this in parenting, we do this in our relationships with others, we do this at work, we do this in keeping commitments.  But sometimes we give ourselves too much permission to not bring our best to the table.  To not give our best.  To instead spread ourselves so thin, to create circumstances, where we have to accept "good enough". 

It is a double-edged sword "good enough".

I brought in Yoda above partly as a joke, but I think his comment addresses a broader issue.  Sometimes we need to just do.  There is no trying.  And sometimes, we need to change the circumstances that prevent us from doing.  In wanting to get the correct exact line, I googled it, and re-watched 44 seconds of the scene from which it comes.  In the scene from Empire Strikes Back where Yoda is instructing the young Jedi that he is what prevents himself from raising the X-wing fighter that has sunk into the morass,

"So certain are you? *sigh* Always with you what cannot be done.  Do you nothing that I say?" Luke tells him that moving stones around is one thing, that this huge thing is totally different. 

Yoda says, "No.  No different.  Only different in your mind. You must unlearn what you have learned."

And that's when Luke says he'll give it a try. 

What often keeps us from getting things done is ourselves.  Whether it is accepting actually good work as "good enough" or believing that the circumstances around us really prevent us from doing something the way we think it should or could be done. 

This is a rambling post, with some real potential in it for great thoughts.  But the current circumstance is that the time I allotted for a break is over.  So this will have to be "good enough" to provoke some thought from you and from me about how we approach getting done what we need to get done.  And how we let go of the things we have done. 

It's one big circle, and I am already dizzy thinking about it... ;)

 P.S.  Hit 5,000 hits last night.  Thanks all!  Keep reading! 

A Plan?

A friend of mine asked me yesterday if I had a "plan" set for what I am going to do with myself after the contract ends.  A plan? I facetiously asked...? What? Doesn't she read this blog religiously?  I'm going to make sure my sink is clean before I go to bed at night.  Other than that, what kind of plan do I need?

Later, by Twitter, I mentioned how I felt like I was sitting around waiting for something great to happen.  And she chimed in how I shouldn't wait, I needed to out there and make it happen.  To which I gave a harvesting analogy and insisted I had planted seeds.  She believed me.

And I have... Don't get me wrong.

But she is poking at the bear issues I have concerns about myself.  Gently - or perhaps not so gently - making sure I won't devolve into a glob of blubber when the contract ends.  I think she's afraid I will sit at home all day in my bed watching re-runs of Love Boat that I recently discovered on You Tube (that song is IMPOSSIBLE to get out of your head, so I don't recommend it... But, oh, that Doc, he is so funny (NOT!)).  And her fears aren't entirely unjustified.  Although I'll probably also catch up on some of the bloggers I'm friends with on Twitter and now here.  And maybe find creative ways to enhance and improve my blog.  And maybe I'll start a doll head collection.  Okay, NOT to the last one.

And I won't be starting a Vision Board or likely a Pinterest account either, although I'm a little wary to say the last one because that pretty much is what I said about Twitter all this time, and we see what happened THERE!

But she's right.  I know she's right.  (Is there a way to block one single person from reading a single post?  I mean I don't need her to spend the rest of today, this week, lording it over me that I said that she was right, do I? No... I mean, she'd favorite the shit out of this post, and return to it every day just to see that I said she was right... Wait... that might help my statistics, though.... If you found this post from the right hand side, well.... you'll know that I already regret it! Kidding!)

I do need a plan to make sure I don't just burrow deeply into my bed and never emerge except for soccer and to get the church bulletin done.  Particularly because there's only another month to soccer, so that won't last too long. 

Do I have one? No.  Not entirely.  Not much at all.  Except a recognition that I want there to be some structure to my days.  Something in particular I accomplish each day.  Incremental work on other things.  I don't want to simply burrow into my bed (although it is nice and comfortable) and get lost.  That's the start of a plan, right?

In the meantime, though, it's early-ish in the morning and I need to hit the shower and get this project done first.  Right now, THAT's my plan.  Once that's done, I can concentrate on the other.  For now, that's my plan.  Okay?  Okay.

Dog Sitting

Many of you may have noticed in the last 10 days or so a certain "dog" like theme entering my posts and tweets.  Some have boldly wondered and directly enquired whether I was dog sitting or not. 

Yes, I am.  But because I over-analyze and over-think things sometimes, I also became very amused that *this* was the question (more than once) asked in response to the sudden influx of canine characterizations. 

I do amuse easily.

But I am amused because it has become clear that in 160ish posts or so, and 4,300+ 140 character tweets or so that YOU KNOW that if a dog were to suddenly enter my life, it probably would not be mine.  That you all have gotten to know me so well to know that as much as I may love pups, I am not prepared for one of my own, and that I *KNOW* I'm not prepared for one of my own.

To be clear, I've had pets before.  I've even had two dogs and two cats at the same time - and frankly, I do miss them dearly.  But I was not raising them as a single parent, and while one day I hope to have the life and the patience that I could be a single parent (to someone of the feline or canine persuasion), I do know that right now that I do not have it in me.  (Clearly, though I would prefer NOT to be a *single* parent, but I won't avoid the joy and companionship of an animal simply because I may be lacking human companionship, too)

While at some level joking (and being serious, too) about "parenting" animals, some of the same reasons I know better than to have a pet also led to my choice not to have real kidlings (the human variety).  I have a lot of Mommy bloggers as readers and followers and I admire how hard it is to raise a child today.  How easy, for example, it is to give into their every whine and demand.  How hard it is to avoid raising holy terrors (wait, this isn't sounding as complimentary as I intended it to.. maybe my fingers are still tied in knots?  Told you the Borg isn't always graceful....)

Well, gees, how do I get myself out of this hole?  By admitting it wasn't entirely unrelated.

Yesterday I stumbled across another Mommy blog (there *DO* seem to be a lot of you out there!) reading Kit's latest post about Blogher, and how one of her valuable take-aways was meeting Babe_Chilla and how if she'd just rented a beach house she would have missed such a wonderful time. 

I'll be honest, if Kit likes someone, I'm interested in learning more.  And not just because she likes me... ;) 

But, frankly, partly because she reminds me of my best friend and so she seems familiar to me, seems to have good taste, and because of her #wineparty, I met many of you.  So, if Kit devotes a whole blog post to someone else, I'm gonna check her out. So I did.

Babe_Chilla's post yesterday was about Pushing Boundaries.  And how much fun it is trying to train, er, teach young ones about boundaries.  How to train, er, teach a young one how to behave well by showing that bad behavior will not be rewarded.

And I loved the blog entry and felt her pain, and I think that's why what started out very sweet and wonderful and supporting towards Mommies above started to appear to (although not intending to) venture into "snarky" control your holy terrors.  Wait, I didn't actually say that above...  *phew*

But I have often felt (as a non-parent, favorite aunt, soccer coach, girl scout leader, someone-who-always-gets-to-send-the-kids-back-kind-of-person) that this is really the keystone to good parenting (well, up there with feeding and clothing and changing diapers).  Setting and maintaining boundaries.  And I think it is also the keystone to managing relationships at any age. 

BORG BLOG ASIDE: [And I hate writing that all at the same time because I hate the idea of setting "boundaries" with someone who I am close to, or someone I am intimate with or someone I trust.  A part of me rebels at the idea that someone I would trust would need boundaries, and that is because, I guess, in an ideal world they wouldn't.  They would know what is safe and what is not safe, what is appropriate and what is not appropriate.  And frankly, that is a post for another day, perhaps, because I feel that one of the reasons my marriage failed was because I was not good at setting appropriate boundaries.  (And while my fingers are itching to type more, my brain reminds them that this post is titled "DOG SITTING" - boundaries, dear fingers, boundaries!)]

As a non-parent, I have gently tread, but nonetheless frequently have made analogies and comparisons to dog training.  Reward good behavior, ignore, discourage don't tolerate bad behavior.  And that if you want a dog that doesn't get on the couch or bed or counter, then NEVER let them on the couch, bed or counter.  Cesar Milan will tell you that dogs need structure, need boundaries.  And they are constantly, like children, exploring to find out where they are.  (They also need lots of exercise and activity to keep from getting bored, but, again, that's another aside).  And if you allow them to get on the couch once and don't push them down because you're tired of doing it, they'll learn that there are certain times when it's okay to get on the couch, and they'll keep trying and testing to see "Now? is Now? a good time? Now? Now?"

A friend of mine has an adult son who has come home after a year of college and is taking a break.  He's a good guy, from what I can see - I've just gotten to know him this spring and haven't had a lot of time to spend with him.  He is working and not spending all his days playing video games (like I did in early 2011 when I wasn't working...).  And she spoils him.  He's her kid, and at the moment, she has to live with him, so it's completely her choice, decision, etc., how she wants to treat him and what expectations she wants to create in him - I'm not judging her here on these choices / decisions, or at least I am trying not to. 

I do believe that he loves her, but it is hard for a third person to hear that in the way he speaks to her and the way that he demands certain things from her.  None of them is unreasonable.  And probably all of them are tasks she wants to do for him.  And I support that.  But it breaks my heart, I will admit, to hear, nonetheless, how this nineteen year old young man seems to expect these things, and seems to demand these things, without some exhibition of or expression of (that I can see) appreciation for what she does for him.

Before you "jump" on me (and really I put that it in quotes, because so far, dear readers, you have not shown yourselves to be the jumping kind - you have been good listeners and kind and supportive), I recognize whole-heartedly that I see just a slice of their interaction.  And I do sincerely hope that there is something in his behavior in response that makes it worth her while to provide so much for him - more than simply a love of a mother for her child.  (Although maybe that should be enough?)  I recognize that there is (or hope that there is) more to the story than I see and that I relate above.

But I admit, lately, I have been much more aware, much more sensitive in listening to others interactions with each other.  Hearing when someone demands something of another and whether there is kindness or underlying understanding or appreciation for the other person's compliance.  (Wow, fingers, DOG SITTING!!!! Where are you going? Bad fingers...No, wait, there is a circular point...). 

Babe_Chilla writes in her blog entry about a whining 30-month old girl.  Each time her daughter demands in a way that is not appropriate, she responds to her as such.  She illustrates with a demand her daughter made for water (all in CAPS). At the first demand, Chilla patiently responds: “OK my darling, how do we ask properly?”  Baby girl tries again.  Repeats what she's just said, and adds "PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE" to the end of it.  A good start, but not what Chilla was looking for, so she goes another few rounds with her until her daughter finally gets it right. 

Painful even reading it, I can't even imagine how much fun it is to do.  But I really praise Babe_Chilla for her persistence.  As I started to write two paragraphs above before I told my fingers they were wandering off topic, I really hear how we, as adults, often communicate with each other in the form of demands.  So often without a please or a thank you, or even some acknowledgment that we are requesting another human being to do something that they don't actually need to do for us.  And I think that's because as adults we often forget or don't even realize that the other person doesn't need to do ANYTHING for us and that each thing they do - even if they *are* being paid for it or otherwise rewarded - is a gift of their time, actions, kindness, etc., towards us or others. 

Babe_Chilla could just give in when she hears the word "PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE" added in - Lord knows that is more than I often hear in daily interactions between folks - but she hasn't.  Yes, daughter has made progress, but Babe_Chilla recognizes that this is still NOT the manner in which she wants her daughter asking for something, and she does her best to remain strong until she teaches her daughter exactly how it should be done.  I think that she does this for her daughter, for herself, and for all of us.  And I appreciate her for doing so.

Each night this puppy has a bed time routine that clearly I never concocted.  We are establishing our own routines in this three week period, but this is one that she has ingrained and I was given clear instruction regarding.  It has taken me awhile to recognize, at night, when she comes to me and tries to get my attention that it isn't because she needs to pee, but because she is afraid I will forget her night-time treat routine.  (She trained me on this by several experiences where I took her out and she didn't pee)  She doesn't care if I'm late with her morning chew, and often won't even whine if I'm late for dinner, but her bed-time routine she is pretty adamant about. 

And frankly, I don't mind giving into her to do this routine because I think it's a wonderful exercise in rewarding good behavior.  There are two kinds of treats that are given in some quantity each night.  But each part of the treat is given in response to some pre-trained behavior she is supposed to do.  The first half of the Beggin Strips goes to her after she properly shakes, for example.  The second when she does the next trick.  Etc., etc.  So I appreciate this nightly exercise in reinforcing good behavior and I am trying really hard not to untrain this well behaved dog.

I admit I am not as good on our walks.  She has been trained to stop at every corner and sit.  And when I've walked her in the past with her owner, this is what we've done.  This is a good exercise, and good reinforcement to sit and stop on command particularly in light of a potentially dangerous situation.  I support the exercise in theory.  But frankly, usually on our walks, I'm just not thinking about it, and she doesn't feel the need to remind me.   Fortunately we often walk in circles and don't cross the street, or walk on long bike paths without such intersections.  I hope my lack of discipline in these areas will simply affect her like that of a grandmother where the rules might be slightly different and that I don't undo all of her good training!

Alrighty, then, I think we're near the point where I'm supposed to neatly wrap this all into a ball and into some sort of conclusion.  I began this post partly to express my amusement how in such a short period of time we've both been so successful in you getting to know me.  That you recognize - what I'd like to think - is my ability to be responsible and not to take on a commitment that I am not prepared to do, so that if there were suddenly a canine in my life, it must be temporary.  Talking about responsible pet ownership or choosing ownership responsibly, I made a connection to my choice not to be a parent.  This led me to discuss the connections I do see between owner (or caretaker in this case) and dog and parent and child, and I wanted to tie the two together particularly with Babe_Chilla's post still fresh in my mind. 

And, lastly, then I wanted to encourage and support all of the parents out there in the efforts you make and the hard work it takes to produce good, responsible, respectful and caring children.  Particularly understanding that these children will become adults and the lessons you teach them painfully at 30-months will be more than amply rewarded by the wonderful human beings you create to go out and interact with the rest of the world.  And as part of the rest of the world, I thank you. 

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. 

Being Wise

Being wise isn't all that it's cracked up to be, by the way.  This is a tremendous burden that I carry for you. Yeah, for you.. sure.. that's it. ;) 

So the morning after all my Sticks & Stones follow up epiphanies (I swear, I will get to Pt 4 at some point, soon...), I found myself feeling pissy at a friend.  Over what she did, or did NOT do, as was the case. 

I long ago realized that anger is merely one manner of expression of feeling hurt. 

And so I found myself - annoyingly - sitting there thinking about why I was feeling hurt, and thinking back on all the crap I wrote the night before.  (Because I was annoyed, I grumpily referred to it as "crap").  Why was I feeling pissy?  Why was I hurt?

And the reality is because that friend tapped into my own insecurities.  Damnit.  Insecurity is a bitch, rearing her ugly head.  And when it does, even the simplest of actions by another (or, again, inaction) can stir up a crazy reaction. 

In hindsight, perhaps, this is the perfect segue-way into Pt 4. 

Sometimes we need to recognize that the reason we are hurt is not because the other person was being hurtful.  Or doing anything at all.  But because they tripped lightly (or even headstrongly) into our own insecurities.  Our fears.  Their actions just lightly tapped into suggesting that what we are afraid of is true. 

When we want to believe something, we take any sign as evidence that what we want to believe is true.  Whether we're talking about good things to believe in (farmers, for example, hoping for rain), or apparently, even our insecurities. 

(Related to the last post, frankly, I take all sorts of signs as positive ones that she will come back to me.)

We look for things to believe in, whether they are true or not.

And when we feel insecure.  When we really believe x about us (we're fat, we're unloveable, we're ugly, nobody likes us, we're annoying, we're going to be alone for the rest of our lives...) whatever it is, then we are just as quick as the farmer who sees a cloud to hope it will rain, to believe that that little tiny sign means that x is true.  We are quick to grasp onto it even though it is not a positive thing. 
And in the end, the frustrating thing to admit is NOT that the other person has hurt us, but that we have hurt ourselves. 

We have to stop doing that. 

Okay?  Okay...

Welcome Lawsbians!!

After the last two nights of live Bloggess Book Club (and accompanying twit chat) I have a few more followers today who are fans of The Bloggess. 

She is so great!  When she reads her book, I admit, it is in the same voice - lilt, expression, dry wit that I hear in my head read her blog. She is great!  Last night she read the chapter about the colon cleanse.  One classic line I still remember in my fuzzy haze this morning is when the pharmacist reminded her that her anti-depressant pills are supposed to go in her mouth.  You'll have to read the chapter yourself to understand the context and how funny that is.  Just trust me. It is.

One Lawsbian last night (that's the name for us fans of Jenny, and I think it's great because of the pun, and well, I'm also a lesbian.. (in case you haven't gotten that far in my blog yet, start with So who am I?)) was perusing the site, and particularly upon the one link I had sent her Success and got ahead of the story where I talk about my success in my crusade to get Jenny's attention.

Let me give you the background, and then you can click on any of the links I provide below, or even better yet, click on the label to the side there, that big one that says the bloggess, and read from beginning to end. 

I started this anonymous blog with a bang in February.  Like anything when we start a new project (particularly when you have ADD) it's never quite clear whether you will actually make a go of it or if your energy for it will peter out.. (Raise your hands, fellow bloggers, if you've started a blog, and it's been a little while since you've posted...?)

Having an audience - I can confirm - gives you additional energy.  Writing for yourself and your dog, and your best friend Robin (because you don't want to tell anyone else you're writing it, because it would defeat the purpose of an anonymous blog (a whole other theme, look at the anonymity label)) is hard.  You have little feedback.  You feel like you're talking in an empty room, and after awhile, it's easy to wonder what the point is and think you're just a wee bit crazy. (although I know I am crazy - there's even an insanity label over there, but I don't remember what I used it for, so I'm afraid to direct you there.. )

So, a few blog entries before I hit my 25th post, I had this wonderful inspiration to get The Bloggess' notice, because if I could get even a a teeny weeny percentage (0.001%) of her readers (and this was before the book hit the stands), it would be a HUGE boost to my readership.  This was about the time she was calling out Nathon Fillion, and coined the term Nater-Tater.  So, I thought the theme of where she was fit perfectly, and so I ran with it on my 25th post (a celebration of making the milestone) and Called out The Bloggess and told her not to be a Nater-Tater and to send me a picture of her collating paper or with twine - that she could understand how much it would mean to me, as Nathan meant to her. 

Robin is a recovering Twitter addict.  And despite the personal danger to herself, she helped me use that little app that came with my iPhone to join Twitter.  (And now I'm a Twitter-crack addict  - I should have heeded the warnings) and so my first tweet was to The Bloggess (thank you, Robin, for teaching me the ways) with a link to my post! 

You'll have to read the posts as they were written from here to see what happened.  But in Success you'll see I have my picture of The Bloggess with twine, and regardless of whether it might be true, I like to think she posted that picture for me.  Even if she didn't acknowledge it on her blog.  I still choose to believe that!  ;)

Welcome to my blog.  Look around.  Explore.  Get to know me.  I have a lot of different things on here, and hopefully, beyond simply our affinity for The Bloggess, you'll enjoy my writing and my stories.  Oh, and tell your friends.  There's little "share" buttons and stuff.. And start populating my comments.  Your comment is MUCH more likely to be read and responded to by the blog writer HERE than if you write on Jenny's page, so come get your fix for attention here.  ;)

Unfinished Masterpieces

For the most part, once I start writing here, I finish and hit "Publish".  I'm not an overnight draft-thinker.  You can probably tell that I don't agonize over every word, and polish this beyond shining to brilliant. 

So, when I look at my Blogger dashboard, most of the entries I've written are published.

Only four remain drafts.

And I think their titles are very instructive on a topic I've been trying to write about.  Here are the titles:

• Love
• Mental Illness
• Choices
• True Love or The One

I know looking above, you think it's one of those Sesame Street tests:  Which one isn't like the other. 

But unfortunately for me, all four tie together into the same topic. 

My big serious (we got married, after all) relationsihp that ended was with a woman who was mentally ill.  Unfortunately, we got to a place where my being there was more hurtful to her than my being gone.  It's a long story that the telling of wouldn't really add much more value here.  I still regret, though, leaving her, even though I knew I had no other choice.

It's been a few years since that relationship imploded, and I have continued to breathe, to live, to be.  I have even fallen in love again since then, although as is my luck, that person is unavailable.  I have also had a crush or two.  It is good to know that a broken heart can still function despite the wear and tear.

There is a lot of thought here -  a lot of meat to write about - in these inter-related topics. 

And maybe, some day, I will.. and I will hit "publish".

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If you like this, stick around and read other entries.  Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end.  Take a moment to send me some feedback.  Thanks for coming.  Please come back soon.

21. I have / am ADD

I bring this up to you not only to tell you another little factlet about myself, but also to warn you that I am already getting bored talking only about myself. 

Which really actually minimizes the issue of my ADD. 

And my ADD is a big issue. 

If I were able to manually make those tags various sizes, I'd make the ADD tag pretty big.  I know I can manipulate it, but I won't. 

I was not diagnosed as a kid.  And this was for many reasons.  First, it wasn't the catch-all diagnosis for energetic kids that it seems to be used for today.  I do think that the way we operate as a society actually creates ADD, or at least ADD symptoms, in folks.  But that's a whole other entry for another day. Second, I was smart enough to pass.  While it clearly, particularly in hindsight, hampered me from "reaching [my] full potential" as so many teachers might have written, I was doing well enough that they didn't waste a lot of time getting me there. 

I don't mean to say my teachers or parents didn't care.  Fighting ADD - either yourself or in others - is like rolling a boulder up hill.  If you don't continually apply your efforts, that boulder gets heavy and starts rolling back down hill.  It is a continuous ongoing process. 

Or that's my understanding of it based on my experience.  Right now I feel like I'm sitting at the bottom of the hill leaning up against that boulder and trying to figure out whether it's worth pushing anymore. 

Except I like the view higher up.  I like it when I reach my potential. I get frustrated by these invisible walls I keep hitting up against. 

Ironically, I was diagnosed as ADD not through an academic or a professional setting or situation, but through a relationship.  So this "disorder" not only holds me back academically, or professionally, but even raises its ugly, ugly head in my intimate relationships.  Lovely.

So, here I sit by the boulder at the bottom of the hill trying to figure out what to do.  I'm single (see #4).  And I contemplate the traditional definition of insanity.  Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. 

I do welcome feedback on this area.  And I'm sure I'll talk about it much more and make that tag on the side bigger and bigger over time.  I have tried a variety of methods to attack this, and it may simply be I haven't found the right combination.  Again, make comments below publicly, or feel free to send them privately by e-mail to theborgblog@gmail.com.


ADDENDUM - JULY 20, 2012

As of today, this blog post has had the most views of any of my posts, and yet no feedback, whatsoever.  Please take a moment and leave me a comment to tell me what you were looking for when you came here.  This and my other ADD posts seem to have an independent popularity, and yet, I don't know who this audience is, why you are coming, and what you are looking for - and even more, if I'm serving it.  Having ADD is hard - and knowing you are not alone is important.  Please, comment below and reassure me that I'm not alone.  Thank you!


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If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.