Merry Christmas

Wow! I can't believe I'm back on my blog. I can't believe as much as I used to love posting, that it's been 2 months, but it has. And I've decided to post at a decidedly low point. Things are crappy and keep getting crappier and just when I think I've hit the lowest point of crap, hey guess what!?!? There's 10 more pounds of crap!!! I told B. the story of going to work for this small company 4 months after 9-11 and there was this woman who was just always unpleasant and mean, but what I remember most was her saying that right after 9-11, she had to go into therapy and get on anti-depressants. I asked another woman, "Did she lose someone in 9-11? Did she have family or friends on a plane or in 1 of the buildings?" The co worker said no, the events had just hit this woman hard. I couldn't believe it. I mean 9-11 effected everyone, right? Of course it did, but going to a therapist and getting on anti depressants when no one you knew died? Come on! I thought this woman was a total drama queen and absolutely ridiculous. We weren't friends, by any means, but I think I probably would have judged anyone who told me that, even if I did it silently.
8 years later and where am I? I am in the process of figuring out the logistics for ending a marriage. I am working 2 jobs. I feel like I'm running from morning until night. And now, I've become just this side of depressed. The little things that were never more than a blip in my life, being cut off in traffic, a new task at work that I didn't see coming and have no time for, someone on the phone who won't let me off and is taking my time away from other things, things falling on the ground, they are driving me over the brink. I am crying at the drop of a hat, I can't concentrate. It's one thing after another and I look at myself and I can't believe it. Old, Health S. looks at this S. and is amazed and judgemental and a little disgusted. And it's Christmas. Absolutely one of my favorite times in the world. Especially for the last 8 years, because Thanksgiving is linked to Christmas now by McG's birthday, the best day of my entire life. But I have always, always loved Christmas, not just lights and presesnts and family, but all the religious aspects of it too. Christmas carols (God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen in particular) filled me with so much Joy and decorations of my church that held some sort of religious symbolism and listening to the stories that seemed to hold everything together. And cooking and shopping and watching McG. I have always loved Christmas.
This year, it's just another thing that is sinking me deeper in. I try to avoid church when I can. I still teach Sunday School, but I feel like a liar. My 12 step program is actually meeting in my church temporarily, and when Iwent in the other night, the first time in awhile, the decorations threw me. It's almost christmas and I hadn't seen them. That was unusual. And the orchestra was practicing in the sanctuary as I went up the stairs to my meeting. They were playing "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear" and I wanted to cry again. That song always sounds just a little sad to me, even though it describes a wonderful, glorious event and I just wanted to cry. It's all I want to do these days.
Now what does this have to do with the angry evil woman and 9-11? Because I lost God, and it seems to be over this idea that terrible things happen to children. Not my child. My child is perfect and wonderful and I thank whatever it is that nothing has ever happened to her. But the fact that these children are not my children flies in the face of my whole 9-11 theory. My child has not been harmed, my friend's children, my family's children have not been kidnapped or raped or tortured or murdered. But I have lost total faith in God, my faith, my peace has disappeared, due to the horrible things that happen to stranger's children. Because I just don't get it. I get that there is evil. Okay check. I get that people can do horrible things to others. Okay. And maybe it doesn't make any sense that while I feel empathy and compassion for adults who have bad things happen, I don't blame God for that. Adults are not helpless, in a lot of cases. Kids are almost always. So a kid dies, a kid gets sexually abused (for YEARS in some cases), a kid gets murdered but not before being tortured for 6 months. Where is God? Is God ignoring this? Or is God maybe not quite as powerful as I've been led to believe? What is the answer?
Well, I don't get an answer, it seems. No one can give me an answer. No one can at least tell me how they get through life and get out of bed in the morning and send there kids to school knowing that a prayer for their safety mainly comes down to dumb luck? What makes my child walk through the door safely while the other little girl down the street gets grabbed by a pedophile? Dumb luck. What makes my child healthy while the little boy 200 miles away gets cancer? Dumb luck. Random, unexplainable dumb luck. The foundation of my life feels like its crumbled and my faith, always the strongest part of me, I felt, the part that allowed me to do everything, has been replaced by this sense of "Cross your fingers and hope it happens to someone else and not you"
How could I not be crying all the time when that's the case? And again, nothing has happened to me. My child is sleeping in her bed (it's Saturday she's acutally in my bed) and she is fine. So what happened? This slow sense of dread happened. A little girl in FL had her remains ID'd yesterday and was probably killed by her mother. Everyday there are these stories of these kids abused, neglected, dead, damaged beyond repair. And where was God when this was happening?
Where was I when this was happening? As a citizen of this world, what have I done to stop this or make it better? Have I even tried? No I have not. But I don't have a book written about how great and almight and powerful I am. People have not been taught that I am capable of miracles beyond the wildest imagination. I have not presented myself as an answer. So my inaction, while certianly not admirable, is not a betrayl of thousands of years of promises that aren't coming true. Adults have free will. They can take what God gave them and use it in horrible ways. I have free will also and I feel responsible for trying to keep myself safe from these horrible things and if I can't, then I'm not sure why, but I do not begrudge God that at all. But I am already dreading whatever is going to happen to the next child or to my child. Is that seeping the quality out of my present life, sure it is. But no one can give me an answer. No one can say "Just tell yourself this and you'll at least be able to function" I say I don't need the truth, just something to help me get out of bed and maybe that's a lie because it does need to be something that makes sense to me.
12 stepers have good advice. "Fire that God and find another one." but I don't want another one. I want the old one. The kind one, the almightly one, the one who was capable of miracles. Okay, so I guess that one is still there. I don't want the old God back. I want the old me back. The old me who questioned nothing. Who did have faith and hope and when bad things happened, kept going back to God for comfort but never demanded that He explain his action or inaction or that he account for his whereabouts when these little people were crying out and needed protection and help, at times from the people closest to them. My sponsor things I need to talk to my doctor about something to take the edge off. I'm inclined to agree, but I need something to restore my faith in everything else too!
I have no answers and that's okay. But no one else does either. Least of all, it seems, God.
Merry Christmas.

The era of suckage...at an end

A quick side note, go to google, click image search and type in suck. Quite an array of images will appear! :)
So I am officially, for the time being, done with sucking. I am done with whining and getting all stressed out, especially about things that have been stressors for how many years? (Hi Mom! Hi M!)
For today anyway, (and that's all I can focus on), I am done. Does it feel nice to unload and bitch and moan? Sure. Especially in my 12 step meetings where I feel unconditional love and acceptance. But eventually even this will begin to diminish if I do not have 1 positive thing to say when I open my mouth. I'm not being negative, necessarily, as much as morose, depressed and frustrated. Eventually, people are going to start thinking "OMG, suck it up!" What does it matter what anyone else things? Maybe it doesn't matter. But I've started thinking "OMG, suck it up!'
Yesterday I went on a 5 mile hike in a state park with a friend. I used to hike quite a bit, but haven't in many years. I had forgotten how much I love it and just the joy of being on this gorgeous trail with other people there for the same reason, was enough to snap me out of my (seemingly endless) funk and look around and just appreciate what I have in front of me.
It's a balancing act, accepting my feelings and emotions as valid but at the same time, not getting so bogged down in them that I begin this long, self pitying cycle. I tell (okay lecture and cajole) my mother with the knowledge that every single day there will be an excuse to smoke a cigarette. Every single day there will be an event that she can manipulate into a justification for picking up the cancer sticks so why not work on getting the tools to deal with all these events without smoking? Uh...wow...give other people unsolicited advice you should take yourself, much?

Are you there, God?

Saturday 10/4/08 (LOVE LOVE LOVE all the references to CBs on the radio today! C.W. McCall rules all!!!)

About a month ago, I lost my Higher Power/God. Much like Bo Peep and the sheep! I don't know where he went and I don't know where to find him. What it basically comes down to is I have started thinking about God. My God. My HP. I have been taught and always believed that God was loving and caring and helpful. Still do. But I also believed that God was capable of great miracles. Anything and everything that could be done, by no one else, could be done by God. It goes around and around in my head and detours about 40 times, but let me explain...there is no time...let me sum up...(Shout out to Inigo Montoya!!!)...lately I've been thinking about kidfs and the fact that so many horrible things happen to the innocent. Little people who have no control over their lives. I accept that bad things happen to adults, taking into account human nature, free will, the existence of evil and I pray for protection and safety but am fully ready to accept that things happen that will have no answer, no explanation. Granted. And I'm actually also willing to accept that in the great scheme of things, God, the universe, fate, what-have-you, that kids die. Part of a master plan? Maybe. I just don't understand the suffering. I don't understand, if something, somewhere predestined that kids have to die, why can't they just die, rather than being tortured and raped for a while before dying? Why do kids have to be molested and abused for years? They can't control it, they have no choices and practically no free will, so if this is evil entering their realm, where is God? Is it that this evil is greater than God or is it that God is greater but has chosen not to act? I am just finding it very hard to live with, the lack of answers to this question. And I've said I don't even really need an answer, I just need something I can tell myself that will allow me to get out of bed in the morning and not blow my brains out. My therapist and my sponsor and a very dear friend who is a minister (not to be confused with my very dear friend who is MY minister) say that I'm at a crossroads and rather than focusing on what is going on in my life I'm focusing on this huge issue of global size proportion. (Gee you think!?!?!) Maybe part of it is that I've never questioned anything before. This, according to M., is part of my problem. I have taken the "lies" that church and religion has spoon fed me and been on my merry way. All I know is that I feel myself getting depressed and I don't want to talk to God and I don't want to pray. That is unusual for me. I'm used to just turning things over. I'm used to being so committed to my faith. I'm not used to this scary place where nothing makes sense. But I have started asking questions and looking around to see what others think of this. It's amazing the different concepts of a Higher Power and/or God that people have. D. said So my god is an indwelling source of comfort and wisdom, and a spiritual connection with others. My sponsor seems to say much the same thing. They just accepted the Higher Power that worked for them. It sounds nice. It makes me nervous. Like I'm going to leave something out and go to hell! It feels dishonest somehow to conjure up my own HP. Isn't that basically what Hitler did? God wanted him to do all those horrible things? God knew the Jews were inferior and were guiding his hand. Obviously I am NOT comparing myself to Hitler, but there have been atrotious things done in the name of religion (okay wait, I'm getting off course...AGAIN!) See where this leads me?!?!?!?!?!? One questioning though leads to another and then once that thread is pulled, my entire core comes tumbling down on me like a house of cards!!!
I don't think I'm going to go out and do anything intentionally bad just because God "as I see him" will forgive me! I mean, I believe God forgives me, but I don't want to start thinking "God will forgive me so I can do whatever I want in the future", building into my concept some sort of "future forgiveness mechanism"
I've just got too much going on and too much on my mind, I guess. I need to relax and breathe. It just feels like I loss and I don't know how to cope. It's effecting my entire life, my 12 step program and I can't have my recovery and my program and my abstinence without a spiritual connection to something.

An Update: (10/6/08
It's Monday and I feel better. I read the Chapter to the Agnostic in the AA Big Book and what I took away from it was that I don't have to have any kind of set religious program or agenda in my head. All I have to start with is Do I believe that a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity. And I do. I have never NOT believed in God. That has never been an issue. So I asked myself, do I believe. And I do. God, whoever he is, is greater than myself. Absolutely. And that gave me a small level of comfort.
Also I returned to church. Not that I have been actively staying away. I couldn't attend due to actual events beyond my control. But not going
somehow made it easier to keep my personal mini drama of faith going. But yesterday was my Sunday to work with my hospitality group. I jokingly call it a cult. We dress in red shirts and welcome people for 5 hours. That and returning to Sunday School to teach helped me remember my connection to my church. It didn't feel like a huge or overwhelming connection, just a small one but for now, it was enough.
And I wrote God a letter, outlining my frustrations and concerns. I'm still looking for answers I'll probably never find, but I feel a little better equipped to deal with day to day life right now. Thank you God, whoever you are.

When I grow up

McG wants to be a vet when she grows up. We flirted briefly with ballerina, but for the last year, it has been vet and nothing but vet. In the past 6 months, she has not brought home 1 book from the library that does not have something to do with the animal world. She enjoys reading fiction, that she already owns, but take her to the library and it’s 6 books about cats (usually the big ones), bears, spiders, pandas, and in one case, which I hope not to repeat, hyenas. (The most disgusting of all animals, if anyone wants my opinion).

Will she be a vet? Who knows? But I don’t really recall knowing I wanted to be anything when I was little. I remember seeing the movie Amadeus when I was 14, I think and deciding I wanted to do something with classical music. My mother, of course, just knew I would be a famous musician or a composer or a conductor. These things were never going to happen, but I could see myself being a music teacher. That was what I wanted to be.

Long story short, I am not a music teacher. I realized in college, that teaching probably wasn’t the thing for me. And I really wasn’t talented enough to be a classical performer. So I graduated community college with an AA in music and no money to continue down another path and no plans for the future.

I have 2 parents. (I think most of us do.) My mother decided, at 16, the minute she heard her voice on the radio, that that was what she would devote her life to. And she has. She has chased this dream of radio from one end of the country to another. When it appeared radio had turned its back on her, 35 years into a long and distinguished career, she was suicidal and made it her goal to return to radio in some fashion. It’s what her last dying breath will be. My mother’s “Rosebud” is “Radio”.

Then there’s my dad. A mechanic when he was younger, and then spent the next probably 40 years running big machines on road crews. It was a job. Not sure he ever enjoyed it, but he didn't hate it. It was just his job.

So I got out of college and floated around for a year or two; restaurant work, mostly cashiering. Then, someone my mother knew, knew someone who said that they worked at a collection agency and I went in for an interview. Collection agent in a call center. It was a job, they required no experience and it paid better than The Olive Garden. I was in. And I was surprised, but I was good at it. While I may not have had a career that was my end all-be all-everything, I did have my mother’s work ethic and competitive spirit, so I became employee of the month after only 3 months there, became employee of the quarter twice and employee of the month about 4 more times. I became a back up trainer, I became an assistant manager, I transferred to their Dallas office and eventually became their human resource manager. And I really enjoyed it. Over the next 13 years (!) I would move to different companies (always collections) and continue to, for the most part, succeed. My wages increased, I met nice people, I felt I had a knack for collections. Did I love it? Would I have committed suicide to find I could no longer find a job in collections? Absolutely not. It wasn’t that kind of career. It was a living. And I decided that I would get my end all-be all-everything out of something else in my life. My family, my friends, my activities, my organizations, hobbies, etc; there were plenty of people, the majority of people is my guess, that worked a job to put food on the table and were fulfilled in other ways. That was going to be me.

18 months ago, I got the opportunity to move out of collections. I am not working in a non-profit health industry related job. Basically an administrative job. I spend my days typing and looking at contracts and running reports and placing auto claims. But I’m not on the phone constantly, I have my own space that is not a desk connected to 10 other desks in a huge room with 30 other sets of 10 desks and phones ringing and people yelling. It’s quiet there. And I’m very slowly starting to understand my job. I can speak with knowledge and authority about 55% of the time. That feels good. I’m becoming more organized and that feels good.

So is this what I’m going to do for the rest of my life? Is this it? If it is, okay. But as 40 approaches, as marriage (possibly) ends, as the offspring grows, I find myself faced with the question. What do I want to be when I grow up?
A lady I work with sent me a link the other day. You spend 3 minutes clicking on colors. Nothing but colored blocks. Out of these three colors, what do you like the most? Out of these 2, which do you like the least? Out of these 9, click on your favorite in order. Then it gave me a run down of my “Best Occupational Category”

You're a CREATOR

Key Words: Nonconforming, Impulsive, Expressive, Romantic, Intuitive, Sensitive, and Emotional

These original types place a high value on aesthetic qualities and have a great need for self-expression. They enjoy working independently, being creative, using their imagination, and constantly learning something new. Fields of interest are art, drama, music, and writing or places where they can express, assemble, or implement creative ideas.

CREATOR OCCUPATIONS
Suggested careers are Advertising Executive, Architect, Web Designer, Creative Director, Public Relations, Fine or Commercial Artist, Interior Decorator, Lawyer, Librarian, Musician, Reporter, Art Teacher, Broadcaster, Technical Writer, English Teacher, Architect, Photographer, Medical Illustrator, Corporate Trainer, Author, Editor, Landscape Architect, Exhibit Builder, and Package Designer.

CREATOR WORKPLACES
Consider workplaces where you can create and improve beauty and aesthetic qualities. Unstructured, flexible organizations that allow self-expression work best with your free-spirited nature.

Suggested Creator workplaces are advertising, public relations, and interior decorating firms; artistic studios, theaters and concert halls; institutions that teach crafts, universities, music, and dance schools. Other workplaces to consider are art institutes, museums, libraries, and galleries.

In the back of my mind, I’ve always thought I would love to be a writer. It’s something I enjoy; it’s something I have passion for. On the other hand, I get satisfaction out of succeeding in a corporate situation and probably the happiest I’ve ever been in a job all around was when I was a human resource manager. That is something I think I could excel at. Corporate trainer would also be very cool on some levels. I see these women, in suits, come into my office and give speeches and train, and I think, “What a cool job! I could totally do that!”

There’s a woman at my company and I can’t quite pin down what she does. She organizes parties on the holidays and memorial services when someone has passed and she runs the activities committee that plans special events. I would LOVE that job!!!

But then, on alternate days, I think that I would really love to be a counselor or a therapist. Not a psychologist or psychiatrist, but a Licensed Clinical Social Worker where I could still see patients and help people.

Dear God, why don’t I just add “Princess” to the list!?!?!?!?!

I found out that my company offers tuition reimbursement (which is the ONLY way I am going to be able to go back to school!) and I found a college with a fairly reasonably priced tuition and an extensive on line curriculum (No! Not U of Phoenix!). One of the degrees they offer is Human Services. And it sounds like something I could work into my current job, as far as showing how a degree in Human Services, paid for by my company, could enhance the company. And maybe it’s something I could use to help someone, somewhere.

What do I want to be when I grow up??????

It would be nice to say I had a bachelors degree. It would be nice to tell my daughter that.

By the time I decide, maybe McG, the extremely successful Vet, can hire me!!!

The End of the Naked Era

So recently, McG had her tonsils out and the funny thing is, right after that happened, she began to stop wetting the bed. Now the child has been potty trained since she was 3, during the day. And at night, we implemented a strict "no drinks 2 hours before bed" and "Go to the bathroom twice before bed" rule, but almost 5 years later, we are still buying pull ups or washing sheets daily for the simple fact that the girl is a dead sleeper. A dead sleeper. Nothing wakes her up. At the age of 10 months she slept through what was called "One of the worst hail storms to hit MO in the last 50 years". In the mornings, it takes, literally, 15-20 minutes to wake her up, and it doesn't seem to matter how long she has slept. But after she had her tonsils removed, she woke up in the middle of the night, 8 nights in a row, crying in pain, so while she was taking medicine and having a popsicle, hey, let's hit the bathroom. And now that the pain has subsided and she's back to normal, the bed wetting has ceased, about 90% of the time and since she just had the surgery a few weeks ago, I really am optimistic.
I tell this story because something else happened recently. I work my 2nd job at 5 in the morning, Monday through Friday (does that make it my first job, if I leave it and go to my full time job at 8am?) so M is responsible with getting McG up, fed ,dressed and off to school. Within the last couple weeks, she won't let M. see her naked anymore. She makes sure she has underwear on and closes the door to her bedroom when she's dressing. Now this, in no way, has effected my relationship with McG. She lets me in the bathroom when she's sitting on the toilet, I can be in the room when she gets dressed, she comes and talks to me while I'm getting dressed, but I'm a female. (In case you were wondering!) And she'll be 8 in 2 months. There is certainly nothing unusual about her wanting privacy from the "male", right? Absolutely natural.
But it also means she's growing up. She's maturing and that's kind of hard for me. Like it's hard for me when she asks me if I love M.
"Of course I do, I love everyone in my family"
or "Why do you guys fight all the time"
"We don't fight all the time, you know that. But families sometimes fight. You and I disagree, you fight with Daddy sometimes and sometimes Daddy and I fight." (It really isn't that much, but she seems very attuned to it)
or the kicker,
"I'm sorry I made you guys fight"
"Look at me and listen to what I'm saying. This is not your fault. Daddy and I just had a disagreement, like we talked about all families do. Do not ever think this is your fault."
And she says she understands. She's getting older and more mature, but she' s still so young.
I'm proud that I've never lied to her. That was another recent question. She fines me a quarter when I call another driver an "idiot". (Lucky for me, she hasn't actually asked for the quarters yet!) Recently someone cut me off and I muttered "Oh come on!" and McG said "Oooo! A quarter!" and I said, "No, I did NOT call that person an idiot so I do NOT owe a quarter."
She said "I thought I heard you..."
I said "Nope, not this time kiddo!" proud I had controlled myself to a certain extent.
There was silence for a minute.
"Would you ever lie to me?"
She was referring to the quarter. For me, it was about every single aspect of our lives, beyond the quarter. This was the one question I did not know how to answer.
People keep saying "What kind of lessons are you teaching your daughter about relationships, living in a house with someone with no physical affection, no "I love yous", no relationship between the adults?"
Yes, what am I teaching her. I thought I was teaching her that families come in all shapes and sizes and that we do love each other (just not as husband and wife) and we are committed to our family. And having to tell her I want out, having to tell her that this family, this home will cease to exist, it makes me feel so selfish. Guilty, sure. Sad, of course. But so very, very selfish. Being raised by a narcissist who's only concern was her own well being, happiness and worth
has made me hyper sensitive to this question. Okay, it's Saturday, I'm going out with friends. Dinner, a movie and home before midnight. McG is in the capable(ish), safe hands of her father, and I had spent the day with her, running to the library, the grocery store, talking, laughing, singing at the top of our lungs in the car (music is a deep love we share), so why in the hell should I feel guilty, because once or twice a month, I go out on my own? I shouldn't. But the images of my own mother going out, drinking and coming home smelling awful, bringing strange people home, parties at 4 in the morning, come flooding back. I am not my mother and I know that. My child is not going to become a sociopath because I get a divorce. And taking care of my own mental and emotional happiness does not make me selfish or a bad person. Yes I know, I know! Everyone says the same thing.
But go find someone you love so deeply, it almost hurts and try telling them that the life they know is about to end. They are going to have to move, they are going to have to get used to new situations, new emotions, a whole new way of life. Now tell it to someone who hasn't even lost all their baby teeth and let me know how it goes.

Limbo!!!!!

Weird, weird times are afoot! (Why does no one use afoot anymore?)

12 step program? I feel like I'm spinning my wheels, but if I quit, I will weigh 250 pounds by my birthday, without a doubt.
Act as if (and basically the rest will follow) is one of the gems of my 12 step program. I need to act as if and if I am acting as if and doing the next right thing, eventually everything will fall into place. I need to reach out to God more. I'm just tired, I think.

I've made a decision that it's time to get a divorce. It's time to move on. It's time to have a lot of sex. This may take me a year to get my house ready to sell, etc., but it's time to start. It's time to stop letting other people control my life and my path.

I realized that I am miserable 10% of the time. And I also realized that my happy times, my content times, my "picture perfect" family times, are all determined by another person's needs and emotional state. That's not right. I am also realizing, although I've known it all along, that these things are all effecting my child and I do not want that to happen.

M. is never going to change. My sponsor agrees. Two therapists agree. There is absolutely no ability to change. I believe, truly, there are people who can change. And there are those who are powerless. He is powerless over Compulsive Assholeitis. It's sad, but there it is! Seriously, whatever it is, the threat of losing his marriage, losing full time access to his child, uprooting his life and security, have never been incentive for change. So what else is there?
And what I've come to realize is that, as I've told some close to me, I am not being physically abused. I am under no threat of danger should I choose to leave. That means the only person keeping me here, is me. This is my decision, to put up with this situation. If I am miserable, I can't blame him anymore. Because I've stood before him and said "You suck and this is wrong, but I will accept and put up with whatever you dish out..."

That 5-10% is part of what is messing me up I think. If I'm miserable 10% of the time, and happy 90%, well 90% is nothing to sneeze at! Plenty of people are happy way less of the time, right? Plus, we all know my issues with my house and my security and making sure my daughters life is better than mine.

But what if, living on my own, I can achieve a shot of 100%? Not that it's always going to be happy or easy, (I'm not that delusional!!!), but what if I can call the shots on my own life? 100% of the time? What if I can make decisions without having to worry about what anyone else thinks or feels? What if I can show my daughter that strength and security come from within?

I'm back on my eating plan, after a small slip yesterday. Thank you God. McG made it through her tonsil surgery with minimal stress and no complications. Thank you God. The weather seems to be cooling off. Thank you God.

Right now, it feels like all I can manage is a Thank you. But I hope, for now, it will be sufficient.

Q Update

The vet is holding out hope for Q. Says his levels are improved somewhat, so I'm cautiously optimistic at this point. Crossing my fingers!!!! It would be nice to have some good news!!!

A good man

My uncle died yesterday. I know he wasn't 70 yet. 68 or 69. I have an uncle on each side of my family. G was my father's brother and he was a good man. Is this a cliche? I wonder. I don't use the words "A good man" ever, so I'm not going to think of it as a cliche. But it started me thinking about what it used to mean and what it means to me. A good man. It used to mean what? Worked hard, supported his family, paid his taxes. He did all those things.
My uncle was this great, big, huge bear of a man and like everything else about him, his heart was huge. He called me Sissy from the time I was born until probably the last time I saw him a few months ago. McG wants to know why he called me that and I said I didn't know, but I did, it's just kind of hard to explain. He was from the country, until his own daughter was born 5 years later, I was the only little girl in the family and he genuinely loved his family. I guess that's what always stands out in my mind is the enormous love this enormous man possessed and didn't care who knew it. He was always this amazingly stark contrast to my father. My father who, while always jovial and ready with a quick joke, rarely showed any true emotion beyond that. My father who always seemed so indifferent to his children. My father who's life went on in the same manner regardless of the condition of his children. Who has had minimal health problems, has been married 32 years to the same woman.
And then there was his brother. His brother with 2 failed businesses, a marriage that ended after 30 years and a 2nd one that I'm not sure lasted 1, with a by-pass 20 years ago, a hip replacement 5 years ago and different health problems in between. A man whose life revolved around his 3 children and as inconceivable as it seems, that love only grew when he became the grandfather of 6. Proud is a word so completely useless when it comes to how he felt about his grandkids. He had a new story for each and every one of them whenever I saw him, but only after I had gotten a huge bear hug and heard him laugh this giggle that always made me smile. For a huge man with a deep voice, he had almost a little girl giggle when something tickled him and to me, it just spoke to his enthusiasm for life. He was a good man and looking around, I'm not sure I know any other truly good men. I know men, men I like but don't really know so well I can state they are good. I love my father, we reconciled many years ago after a fairly long estrangement, but would I categorize him as a "good man"? He's a good grandfather. He's a good husband and a good friend. I fall into none of those categories and none of his grandchildren, his friends or his wife have 30 years of scars to show, but I digress. His brother, I can say without hesitation, is one of, if not the finest man I've ever known. My heart hurts for his children and his grandchildren and I hurt for losing such a wonderful person.
At the same time, my dog has been sick and I've found out he's in kidney failure. This, combine with my uncle, has sent me into a bit of a tailspin, because this dog was my baby for 2 1/2 years before McG came along. He is absolutely, without a question, the best dog in the world. (Don't email me about your own dog, I don't want to debate!!) Kind, gentle, obedient, immediately acclimated to having a new baby, moving wherever we did. He was a great traveling dog. He's 11 and I've noticed from the sign in the vets office that he is roughly the same age in dog years as my uncle (the 7 dog years = 1 human year is a myth apparently). So while I'm still holding onto some hope for my dog, Q, (gotta protect the dogs anonymity!!), I find myself preparing to let go of another truly wonderful man in my life, just the 4 legged kind. I got Q on my 28th birthday, 1 month before my wedding, so I feel like my journey of the past 10 years has been his as well. He was 3 pounds when we got him. He was so tiny and so feisty. And now he's not. He's gotten older and slower and now he has a young, feisty kitten to deal with and people who love him dearly but probably don't pay quite as much attention to him as they could.
It's kind of sad that I wait until something goes wrong to realize how I could be a better parent and a better pet owner. I consider myself a good friend and I do the best I can, but whatever flaws and failings I have as a friend do not glare at me like my flaws and failings as a parent. And then, slightly lower on the importance rung, but still there, are my failings as Q's mom. I hope that up until now, he's had a good, happy life. I hope I get to keep him a while longer. I hope I get the chance to try and carry on my Uncle's spirit. I'm sad right now, but I feel hopeful and that's a true blessing.

Perception

When does explaining a situation and the reasoning behind it become desperately justifying a position so it sounds like you don't believe a word coming out of your mouth?
Person A: "This is the situation."
Person B: "Okay, why are you in that situation?"
Person A: "Because A, B, C, D."Person
B: "Wow! That's a lot of reasons! Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"
Person A: "No really, I'm happy with this situation..."

To me, it is in the same category as "criticism".

Person A: "I want you to change this about your behavior because it bothers me..."
Person B: "Why? Am I not good enough for you the way I am?"
Person A: "Why can't you consider my feelings and the fact that it bothers me? I'm explaining my feelings to you in a constructive manner and I should be able to talk about things that bother me in the relationship..."
Person B: "No, you should love me the way I am..."

It can go around and around and around. In my case, it has! It just seems like a problem with no solution. But getting back to the first scenario. When I started OA, my sponsor told me the words I thought would set me free. "It's none of your business what anyone else thinks of you..."It just opened my eyes and made so many things so much easier. Maybe I'm falling away from that. I'm not sure. But when does arguing your point of view segue from just that into a pathetic attempt to get what you want but what you may not need.When does it go from "Let me give you some examples of why my theory is valid" turn into the other person just sadly shaking their head saying "Give it up already!"

History is written by the winners. Isn't that a saying? So the person who wouldn't give up and didn't get the results they wanted until the 57th attempt is "persistent and confident". "A go getter who refused to take no for an answer!" "Uplifting and inspiring!!!" Dennis Quaid will play him in the movie!!
But what about the ones who try and try again and after the 56th attempt, his wife leaves him, he loses his full time job, his kids think he's a pitiful loser and all his friends are whispering about him. "Sad." "Delusional" "Sick". Maybe the 57th time, he would have been successful and that tide would have turned. Maybe it's just the very fickle luck Gods decided that day to not smile upon him. It seems very random and unfair, at best.
How do you differentiate? I ask someone out and they resist. I persist and pursue and eventually they agree. It's romantic, right? "She wouldn't take no for an answer." and someone, somewhere is going "Awww, how romantic!" But in Scenario B, I persist and pursue and I'm, at best, annoying and ridiculous and desperate. At worst, a stalker and a predator. What's the difference?

I used to be in HR and I trained hundreds of people on sexual harassment. The difference between a romantic overture and harassment? Perception.

That's all it comes down to. Perception. And maybe that's all it comes down to with all those other things. Perception. Maybe "It's none of my business what anyone else thinks" is about saying "Screw your perception...this is my life and all I can do is live it the best way I know how."
I spent so many years waiting for M. to agree that it was a good idea for us to end our marriage. I was so desperate for his perception to match mine, I stayed in way longer than I should have. When I try to explain my thoughts and feelings about E. to anyone (even to E!!!) it sounds like I'm desperate. It sounds like I'm so needy and desperate to have someone, I'm willing to harangue this poor woman into a relationship, whether she wants one or not! And I honestly try to assess and I don't feel like it is that way. I pursued her. She said no, let's just be friends. I accepted that.
Then I made a joke. A slightly leading joke that could have just ended as a joke. Nothing overt. Nothing aggressive. But she picked up that joke and chose (of her own free will) to move forward. There has been a lot of discussion and a lot of debate. Pro and con lists. Charts and graphs!!! (Okay not really). When it's laid out, it sounds like I'm so desperate to be with someone, ANYONE, that I'm willing to do whatever it takes. But it doesn't feel that way to me. And I hope it doesn't feel that way to her.
But in the end, it's none of my business, right? It sounds wrong and heartless to say, but this other person is an adult and has to decide for herself what is best for her, right? It's her responsiblity to say "Yes, let's continue with this" or "I can't continue with this." just as it's my responsbility to say that on behalf of myself right?

The one thing I've learned is that I am a mother of 1. And only 1. I am not M's mother. I am not E's mother. I am not my mother's mother (although she thinks I am). And there are a lot of different terms for it, especially floating around 12 step programs. Thinking you're God. Thinking you're in control. It's not that I think I'm in control, I've just been raised to know I'm responsible for everyone else's feelings and thoughts and actions and that has messed me up. A lot!!!

So now, as I prepare to return to my therapist and lay out the actions of the last year, maybe part of this is coming from that. Once more, I have to explain my reasoning behind the decisions I've made. Will she approve? Will she judge? Probably not, but as she plays devils advocate "So what if..." or "Doesn't that really mean..." I'll once again be feeling like I'm trying to make sure her perception is in line with mine.

Maybe it's time to adopt a new motto. Rather than "It's none of my business what anyone else thinks of me", change it to "No one is quite as interested in what I'm doing as I seem to think, and if they are, what's wrong with them? Don't they have their own lives to live? What's wrong with them?? What do they want from me?!?!?!? Can't they all just leave me alone!?!"

Would it be considered a positive thing if I shifted from needy and desperate for validation to bitter and paranoid? Hey the change might do me some good!!!

Confidence

I can't relate to shyness. I can't relate to fear of speaking in front of people or walking into a room full of people I don't know and mingling. Making eye contact? Smiling at a stranger? Saying a pleasant hello to someone passing you in the supermarket? Piece of cake! I do not question my ability to take on new projects or to tp at least try much of anything. If I don't think I can do something, I'll usually speak up, but I'm always willing to try. Some people call this confidence. And that's fine. It's something that hasn't ever bothered me.
But recently my sponsor and I had to do some work on the character defect of being overly confident and here's where that comes from. There have been things in the past that should not have worked out. Things I ignored that needed attention, things that should have blown up in my face and didn't. These were not things that I had labored on and they just didn't work out. They are things that should not have, due to my own actions or lack of. But in these situations, I basically chalk it up to God doing me a solid and letting it work out. Unfortunately, it has given me the expectation that things are just going to work out in the future, whether I do what I need to do or not. At times, it has made me lazy. At times it has made me shirk (what a cool word) my responsibilities, because I just have this feeling that everything is going to work out okay. And it doesn't seem to really matter that it doesn't sometimes.
I do consider myself a hard worker, but that is not always the case. And sure, everyone occasionally goofs off or procrastinates, but I tend to not learn from the times that it blows up in my face. I want to start doing that.
For some reason, thinking about confidence has led into noticing this pattern among people I've been in relationships with. They're all similar in that they are all off. Just a little. I mean that in a good way, being off kilter, being just this side of odd, I dig that. ("dig that"...a woefully underused phrase). When I met & married M, he was 38 and had barely had 1 girlfriend in his life. Now he was (and is) smart and funny, but take him into a social situation and more often than not, he pulls a "Rainman", barely speaking at all and people think I've brought my mentally challenged friend to an event. When he gets nervous, he sometimes has trouble communicating and can get himself almost hysterical when things don't go right. And some people before and after him, it just seems like they lack something, maybe confidence or maybe something else, that gives them this trouble between what's in their heads and hearts and the words and actions they display. Sometimes they communicate fine, but internally they don't seem to know exactly what they want or how to express it, even to themselves. Or they are just missing a gene of some sort that allows them to see clearly how to get what they want. I don't know. They are all missing something, (and that's not to say that I'm not missing anything. There's something we're all missing!), but they all seem to be missing the same thing. And I guess it's the patterns we all get into. My pattern seems to be people who have very little relationship experience, for whatever reason, and some how I end up taking the lead and they are generally what my grandmother would have called "queer ducks". But I like the queer ducks and I don't realize the other stuff until I'm already involved.
What I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, what I want, I can express that in a way that makes perfectly clear my intentions and feelings. I've been told I'm eloquent but I wouldn't get that fancy or pretentious with it. But I'm a good talker. I come from two of the champions of talking. I go back and genetically, I can't point to 1 tongue tied individual in my entire family! Speechless was not a state anyone has ever experienced in my family. And is there anything wrong with that? Maybe not.
But I sometimes wonder what would happen if I went out and found someone confident, another "talker". Someone who knew what they wanted, knew how to ask for it, knew how to get it. What would happen if I found myself? My guess is that we would probably hyper each other into a frenzy and end up in a battle of wills over who gets what they want. Or neither of us would shut up. Ever.
I guess I bring this up, because after a few months of platonic friendship, E is back on the dating radar, possibly. And we talk a lot, we communicate, but when it comes to talking about what she wants in a relationship or the two of us, I'm lucky to get 3 words out of her. Not a complaint, just an observation. I wasn't trying to get her to date me again. I was trying to be friends. I was trying to not be jealous when I saw her talking to other women. But once, in an email correspondence about hanging out, as friends, I saw an opening to re approach the dating issue and I took it. And so far, it's worked. She's aware of my situation, still. I think I'm aware of her feelings, but damn, trying to just get them out of her is like pulling teeth. But again, it's not a complaint. I care for her, as she is. I have always tried to accept everyone for who they are, always. I really work hard not to try and change anyone and since joining OA, where you aren't supposed to even give advice (just share your experience, strength and hope), I find myself trying even less.
If this doesn't work out, then I'll be sad, but I don't see myself as being devastated. There are definite limitations on both sides. But does this mean I'm indifferent? Does it mean I'm not emotionally invested? I smile just a little more when she sends me an email or a text and I really do have a good time. Maybe it's just my confidence to go on, in the face of any situation or relationship. Does the inability to fall apart because someone has left you mean that there's a small part of you, inside, that is gone or dead? The idealism maybe? Is that sad? I know I used to have it. Maybe that's what I'm missing.
Part of it could be that I don't know what this is. And I'm not sure she does either. Are we a couple? Or are we friends who care about each other deeply and may have a physical relationship? Does all this go on until she finds someone who can give her exactly what she needs and wants? I've left that for her to decide. (Inability to make a decision! Another of her quirks that make me smile as I pull my hair out!)
Right now, I'm taking my 3 1/2 hours per month I've allotted for relationships (I'm only 1/2 joking) and seeing where it leads. And I'm going to try and have confidence that in the end it'll go where it's supposed to go. This whole thing sounds convoluted and twisty, but in my heart, I am confident that it's nice to know for now, someone out there cares for me.

The Finer Things In Life

My good friend R. (Missouri R. not to be confused with Maryland R.) and I went to dinner a few weeks ago and she was telling me about a purse she had purchased. Apparently it was a very good bag (I think she said Coach, but could be mistaken) and she got it at a good price at a Coach outlet store, because there was a small scratch on it and while she was walking around with it, thinking about buying it, other women in the store were stopping and asking her about the bag, because apparently it was one of this years styles, rather than last years, which it sounded like was all the store usually carried. This is the gist I got from hearing her tell it and I hope I get this right! Anyway, after listening to her tell this story and struggle a little with her guilt at paying a lot of money for a handbag, even if it was discounted, I told her that I was carrying my papers, makeup, wallet, spare change, cell phone, day planner, etc. in one of those $.99 Earth Friendly, sort of cloth, reusable grocery bags all the stores are selling now. Oh and by the way, it has a rip in 1 side! R's take on this story is that I am not getting my pleasure in life from buying things and that's to be admired. My take is that even if I saw a really good, high quality bag at a discount, I wouldn't know it. Even if I didn't buy it or consider buying it, I wouldn't know enough about these things to point it out and recognize it myself.
R will serve what she calls "a really good piece of cheese" as a course of its own at dinner. I don't even know that I would know what a really good piece of cheese is. And if you say "piece", I'm thinking of a cube of Colby jack from IGA, not a large piece to be served to multiple people. I don't know what a good year for wine is. I buy fish frozen from Sam's, not a "good piece of fresh salmon" from anywhere.
My friend C. & I took our 6 year olds, two Christmases ago, to a small, local art foundry to see The Nutcracker. This was just little girls enrolled in dance classes performing select pieces of the ballet for the audience, not the entire ballet. Afterwards, there was a "tea" for the moms and daughters. It was nice. The girls loved it. During the tea, C. started explaining to her daughter which utensil meant what and where it was supposed to be placed. And where the glass was supposed to be in relation to the plate. I just smiled and nodded and told McG to please take her elbows off the table. This is the extent of my "table manners". If there are more than 2 forks, I'm at a loss.
My parents were trailer people. I usually say it half teasingly, but it's true. I was born in a little, backwater town in SE Missouri. True, we moved a lot after I was 5, but we certainly weren't moving to places that I would consider the epicenter of high society. Cedar Rapids IA, to the best of my knowledge, did not have a society page. And my mother didn't spend much time (okay any time) teaching any social graces. Not that it really mattered, because none of my friends were deploring my lack of pinkie extension when drinking my tea.
I buy my clothes from Target. My sunglasses are $.99 and I got them at a gas station. And I guess it appears this points to my what? Financial sensibility? Maybe. But I just think it would be nice to say "Oh, this is a really good _________ and I appreciate the exquisiteness of it!" even if I don't have the money to buy it!
Not that I'm without appreciation of things. I was a classical music major in college, so I know something about music beyond Mozart and Beethoven and as anyone who knows me can attest, my taste in movies is very, very broad. Foreign language movies. Existential films. I am open and appreciative of all of them. That somehow makes me feel a little better about my own standing in this non-existent community I have apparently conjured up.
I took McG to the art museum for the first time last week and had a great time. She seemed to enjoy some of the art, we talked about some of it, what it looked like to us. There was a very haunting 5 minute movie called "The Accident" that she pronounced "boring" and the nudes were met with a perfect balance of shocked dismay and and hushed delight. "Mom! There boobs are showing!" Well, she's 7, so I'm not going to worry too much about it. Yet. I'll just keep telling her to take her elbows off the table and worry about the rest later!

My Audience

I have been so busy, I can't even take the time to recount how busy I am. Plus I've got 3 blog entries floating in my head! But this is what I wanted to address today, and I'm putting myself 2 hours behind to do it! I have been busy, job after job, event after event, commitment after...okay you get the picture. And I've missed my blog. I've missed getting my thoughts out of my head. I've missed writing. I've missed searching for a picture to capture the general gist of my message. This is something that's important to me and it's something I enjoy and I have to make time to do it, going forward. I owe myself something fun and relaxing. But what went through my mind a couple days ago was, "What about the people who are reading my blog?" That means you, anyone who happens to look this up! Are you checking in still, looking for a new post? (I say looking, I mean desperate though). Are you wondering where I am? Are you so anxious (again desperate) for the new pearls of wisdom falling from my miraculous brain to my nimble fingertips that you are constantly hitting the link to my blog in order to see, hope upon hope, that I have managed to grace you with my view of the world for yet another day. Am I being over dramatic? Absolutely. Am I kidding? Sort of. In my mind, this is precisely what I mean and this has scared me, because it is my mother (and we all know the mother issues!)
My mother spent 40 years on the radio, she spent 40 years as a minor local "celebrity" wherever we went. People would, literally, recognize her voice in the grocery store or a restaurant and stop us to gush about how wonderful she was. It was a drug to her and the withdrawal from this is going to keep her shaking until she dies. That was her audience and she had to have them and she had to make sure she was better, smarter and funnier than anyone else. And that spilled over into other "audiences". Co-workers, drinking buddies, family members.
Growing up, the most important thing in my family, was to get "the line". It wasn't being smart or having a good heart or respecting and caring for others. It was, in any situation, who could surmise the situation, at the speed of light, and come up with a funny, snarky line that made everyone laugh, yet while they were laughing, they were also, internally (and sometimes externally) amazed at your quick wit and mental/verbal prowess. My mother, to this day, still says (proudly) "In our family, it was who could get the best line in!" I'm starting to wonder how much of a curse this was?
I have a decent sense of humor. My mind immediately goes for the "punchline" and more often than not, I will share that punch line, in order to get a laugh (a small dose of approval, wafting through the air towards my desperate ears). The sickness I've noticed is that if I share an anecdote, if I share a joke or a line that succinctly gets to the heart of something that is going on and makes people laugh, I relish it and that's fine. But then, I repeat it to 4 other people "I was just telling John over there..." in order to get more!
The upside is that many times I am aware of it. I won't wait around anymore to make sure I can get a line in before leaving a room, I won't search and search for an opening to get my 2 cents worth in (at least I hope I don't!). If the opportunity is there, then I take it, but I try not to force it. But then people say "You're so funny!" or "Man, you should do comedy!" and I smile and feel good and later pray that I wasn't being obnoxious about it. That people aren't saying "Man, how overbearing with the jokes can 1 person be!" I never want my audience to turn on me. And unfortunately, that's how the tiny back part of my brain that I try to stay away from has started thinking of the people who read this.
So by not blogging, because I'm so busy, am I not only denying myself something I enjoy and get a lot from, but am I denying my audience? OH MY GOD!!!! NO NO NO!!!! I will not go down this road! I will perform every single step of my program on this character defect. If you are reading the blog and enjoy it and wish to share with me that you do, then God bless you and thank you for the support. But this is NOT why I started this and this WILL NOT be the reason I am posting and the reason I'm kicking myself for not.
This is my recovery blog. This is about my illness, my recovery, my sick twisted view on life and if you read, thanks. If you don't, I can't care. If you call or email or ask me "Hey, you haven't posted in a while, is everything okay?" then it is because you are my friend and want to make sure I'm okay. NOT because you are going through a withdrawal of "me". I will not go down that road.
You are not my audience. You are kind people whom I love. (And who forgive me if I use who and whom wrong). Should you decide to check in and see what's on here, go for it. If not, that's not my problem or responsibility.
I hope it doesn't come off like I'm yelling at you. I'm yelling at me. I'm yelling at the little tiny doll inside my head who looks just like my Mom. I'm yelling at the universe. Not at any of you. (And I may be delusional as to how many of you that are actually reading this or are even invested!)
So to anyone who is reading this entry and find yourself thinking "Man, how self important is this freakin' chick?"
I proudly answer "A little less than before!"

Brief apology

Sorry! I'm not dead in a ditch (as my mother used to always accuse me of after not having heard from me for 20 minutes!) Posting will resume very, very soon!

What I know and What I believe

Know: to perceive or understand as fact or truth; to apprehend clearly and with certainty

Believe: to have confidence in the truth, the existence, or the reliability of something, although without absolute proof that one is right in doing so

I was making frozen yogurt and realized that instead of plain, fat free yogurt I had purchased plain yogurt with fat. It wasn't that much fat and I had already opened the package, so I went ahead and used it. I can't say I know for a fact that my frozen yogurt was creamier and tastier. But I believe it was. And do I believe it was because of the taste or because I know that I was using a higher fat content of yogurt?
What do I know? What do I believe? I believe there's a God. And the fact that I can't say I know there's a God would lead 1/2 the people I know to applaud me and the other 1/2 to vilify me! It seems to me that the stereotypical quandary would be "I believe xyz but I don't know xyz for a fact". I mean, hasn't that debate been going on for millions of years? Science vs. theology? Fact vs. feeling? With the exception of God, I find it hard to pinpoint things I believe in very strongly but don't know. In fact, I seem to be going in a different direction. The things I know aren't true but I want desperately to believe in, as well as the things I know with absolute certainty are true, but I keep choosing to believe they are not.
I've spent a good many years wanting to believe that I could make my marriage work, but knowing I couldn't. But the desire for that, the belief drove me, relentlessly.
I want to believe that my daughter can come out of her childhood unscathed by the choices I've made and I pretty much know that is impossible.
I know that a 12 step program can save someone's life. I've seen it. I have data! (Okay, I don't have data, but someone does, somewhere!) I've experienced it in my own life. Right now, I'm not sure I believe it though. To have confidence in the truth...without absolute proof... that's faith right? You lift the definition of faith right out of the definition of believe.
That can't be an accident. And I know the reason I feel like I don't believe it is mainly because I'm in a bit of a funk.
I know that if I ignore my bills and don't pay attention to my bank account, terrible things happen. This is not a hypothetical...this is what I do, because I believe if I just close my eyes and focus on other things, that it will all work out best in the end. And as a result, I get late charges and screwed up credit and overdraft charges!
I know if I eat sugar, I will begin to binge. I know if I weigh myself more than once per month, I will become tied to the scale. These are facts in my life. There is no way around them. I choose not to believe them, sometimes I'm desperate not to believe them. I really don't want these things to be true. I really want things to be different that aren't and never will be. But mainly, I want me to be different and the only way I'm going to know I'm different is by acknowledging the ways that I'm never going to be different...from myself. (Hang on...I'll let you get a calculator to figure that one out!)
It doesn't seem to matter how long I go on with new behavior, healthy behavior, behavior that in every way enhances my life...it's like 1 old action, 1 old thought feels like I'm back at square 1. It's so frustrating! So hey here's a thought! Avoid the old actions! Avoid the old thoughts! Sure! Because life is just that manageable. Especially for an addict. And as much as I might like to believe I'm not, I know I am.
What I've noticed is that most of the time when people say "I have to believe abc..." then that is followed up by, expressed or implied, "...or I'll lose my mind..."
"I have to believe there's something better on the horizon..." "I have to believe that it can be different!"
So what do I have to believe or I'll lose my mind? I guess just that I'm doing the best I can with my eyes open. My mother always said she was doing the best she could and I never believed it. Still don't. And there are days when I don't believe it about myself. But I am human. Imperfect. (Feel free to gasp now!) I am still learning and probably will be until I die.
This weekend, I am going to an OA convention. I am holding out a lot of expectations. Okay, just 1. To get back on track with my program. I am abstinent and have been for awhile now. (No numbers!) But I want something to kick me out of my funk. That's it. D., in his infinite wisdom, said that the convention will satisfy me in some aspects, go beyond expectation in some areas and fail me in others. In other words, what B. is always saying. The Convention I want, the Convention I get and the convention I should have had. But these are my people. I know that. I believe that. This is my family. My favorite family. That in itself makes me feel better. These are the people who know me so much more intimately than anyone else. If I just go in with that expectation, a few days of happiness, of peace, of love surrounding me, I have to believe I'll end up feeling better...or I'll lose my mind! (HA!)

Side note: The picture on this post is what comes up when you google something like "Belief vs. knowledge" image. I don't know what it is or what it means, but I know it's weird looking!

You are cordially invited to...A PITY PARTY!!!!

Poor me is not how I live my life. It’s my mother’s mantra. I feel like it’s very much M’s way of thinking in many situations as well. (In case you haven’t figured out, low these many entries, I married my mother…I’m also concerned I may have given birth to her!!!). But I have made a conscious effort, from my perspective, to not let myself get bogged down in self-pity. Perhaps whoever is reading this is saying “Yeah right!!! Have you read your blog…” but I really hope it doesn’t come across as a series of “poor me” notes. If it does, then I need to reexamine my point of view, I guess.

Things right now aren’t great. They aren’t terrible. They just…are. Everyday, on my day planner, I have 2-4 things listed and that includes my 2^nd job. So what can I cut out? It seems like everything is important on some level. It seems like everything extra is small and the smalls are all starting to add up. All my outside activities constitute from 1 hour per week to 1-2 hours per month. If I’m doing something for church and it literally takes 2 hours per month, is that really something I can say “No I don’t have time for?”

I guess one of the real issues, if I’m going to be honest about myself (and that’s the thing I like the least!) is that I am disorganized! With my time, with my papers, with my money, with my work, with my projects. And sometimes, it’s like it’s intentional because I get a rush from having things in mass chaos, but pulling out a victory at the last minute. B. tells me she’s sort of the same way, and pays a price. And I am too, I’m starting to see. As she also told me, I am “no spring chicken” anymore. Uh…hello? Harsh!!!! But true. I read an article about a guy who has apparently vowed to whittle down all his stuff to 100 items. He wants to own 100 items and no more. Now I haven’t done any research on the logistics of this…(is his house 1 item? Is furniture he shares with his family count as his?) I think I read he figured out he only needs 2 pairs of jeans so he gave away 1 pair. But again, this is a concept that fascinates me. Could I do that? I don’t know. I would probably use all this pent up creativity that I DON’T get to use on my food anymore, and put it towards that! It would probably end up being “Well, this is 1 category, so it doesn’t count…M & McG use this more than I, so this doesn’t count as my 1) but this is just an idea. But I digress… Seriously, how much better would my life be if I knew where everything was. If the papers were arranged and my car was clean and my room was clean? How much stress would go away?

The other point is, that I’m feeling run down, I’m feeling tired, I’m feeling a little beat up, I’m feeling a little resentful towards my 12 step group. It has exploded from weeks where we were lucky to get 3 attendees to now averaging 12-18 people every week. And it’s wonderful. Those of us who have been in this meeting for a while are thrilled that people are attending. Recently, I’ve really been wishing that we were back to 3, back to a more intimate setting. I feel like I can’t share as openly. I feel internal pressure to stay positive and impress these new people. Maybe one will ask me to be their sponsor, so my “share time” is really an audition of sorts! God I’m pathetic! And I’m feeling a little sorry for myself that all these people are impeding my ability to be honest. (Of course they aren’t!) I’m feeling sorry for myself that I have a disease and that it follows me everywhere I go and that I have to work steps and take action and read and pray to keep it from killing me. I hate that I can’t be normal. I’m feeling sorry for myself. And I hate it.

So add all these feelings in with 2 jobs, 1 child who has me on the run (including needing her tonsils out, swimming lessons, orthodontist appointments, play dates, Sunday School…I’m thinking of buying her a day planner of her own!!!), church, my recovery program, and my house to run. And I’m stressed. And I’m going insane. And maybe I’m making it worse by resisting this natural tendency to just wallow for a bit. I am the ultimate multitasker! That’s something I used to be proud of! I steer my car with my knee while putting on make up (kids, don’t try this at home!) and searching for reports in the back of my paper eating car that has so much crap in it, McG’s car seat barely fits! I’m cooking food for 5 days in advance while I’m filling out a calendar of where I’ll be for the next 10! I’m doing frantic grocery shopping on my lunch hour while talking on my cell phone and writing in my day planner. And it feels like it’s killing me.

I’ve always said no matter what happens to me, someone else has it worse. I took McG to a place downtown the other night where we served food to the homeless. A very dear friend is having some tests for what could be some serious medical issues. For God’s Sake, they are getting ready to foreclose on Ed McMahon’s house!!! There are millions and millions of people worse off than me.

So I suck it up and I try to fix it and I get busy and overwhelmed and I fall apart. Maybe a minute or two of “Poor me” would help, once in awhile!

Plus when I get like this, I don’t turn to God. I’m not really upset with God or questioning much anymore. I just don’t feel like I have the time. In my mind, God is for praying to in times of tragedy and thanking in times of great success. Not for just saying “Hey, I need some help navigating these very pedestrian issues in my everyday life.” And maybe that’s what is also getting me in trouble!

So I’ve worked out some time in the morning, driving from 1 job to another, where I can talk to God. I’ve got to work out some time to read my OA literature. I’ve got an OA convention coming up. Even the things I enjoy, that are designed to help me in a million ways, suddenly feel like a time suck!

All together now…Poor me!!!

There are an average of 730 hours in a month. That’s a lot of time. And it feels like no time. Maybe a week of writing down exactly where all this time goes would help me be more organized. Of course, I’d probably lose my data in the back of my paper-eating car or use it to blow my nose before I realize!!!!

Wages of a misspent youth

When I was a teenager and in my twenties and most of my thirties, I was fat. But my body was remarkably firm. It always amazed me that everything got bigger, but not necessarily flabbier. Also, even though I spent a good deal of the past 22 years at 220 pounds or more, that I never really had any health issues. Never. I was fat but basically, fairly healthy. Granted I never really got a physical, but I felt good.

Ah…(no pun intended)…the salad days!

Three years ago, I drove through a Jack In The Box at 10pm and got 3 egg rolls. I wouldn’t say I have ever eaten a lot of fried foods. This was an occasional indulgence. (Most fried food didn't have sugar, so I was never that obsessed with it!) I went home and I ate it while watching TV. ½ an hour after I was done, my heart started racing. It was going 100 miles a minute. I was having trouble breathing. It was one of the few times in my life that I’ve been scared, in the present, that I’m was going to die. I was afraid to go to sleep. I went to the doctor who did some heart tests and proclaimed me healthy. I judge him a little for looking at a 230 pound woman and saying “You’re fine” but whatever.
Two years ago, I went to a Walmart and had one of those in store health screenings done. Basically I was told that I was 1 cheeseburger away from a stroke. The shoulda-been up stuff was down, the shoulda-been down stuff was up. Bad news. I don’t know that it necessarily propelled me into action, although I can say that 2 years later I had the same test done at a health fair at work and everything was normal. I passed with flying colors. At that point, I had lost almost 50 pounds. A connection, maybe? Nah!!!

Also, for my entire life, I could eat as much as I wanted of whatever and never have any physical symptoms (beyond the weight gain). In the past 6 months, I’ve noticed that when I binge, I’m getting sick as a dog. I am having major problems when I eat something not on my food plan or when I eat something on my food plan but in excess. (Cashews are permanently banned from my diet FOREVER!)

I mean, what is going on!?!?!?!?!!

Well let’s just call it “I’m not 22 anymore-itis”

But something else I’ve noticed, is my body is getting flabbier. Never had a beautiful body, but as it’s getting smaller I am starting to see signs of the fact that I’m probably not going to be very firm again, ever! And since joining a gym a few years back, something has become increasingly clear. These things we’re walking around in, are not meant to last. Our bodies are like just about any other living or inanimate object on the planet, with the exception of Styrofoam! As it gets older, it deteriorates. Now I know this is nothing revolutionary, is anyone truly shocked? Of course not! But it has never been so clear to me as it is now. I see these women working out in the gym. They are in their 50’s or 60’s, they are fit and trim and I envy them and pray that when I’m 50 I’ll look like that. And then I’m walking into the locker room and they are changing in the same row as me or they are standing in the shower and I see them naked. And they are sagging and things are hanging and I start to feel…I’m not even sure what. These women, by doctor’s standards or whatever, ARE healthy, I’m sure. And they have obviously mastered the fine art of dressing to positively accentuate their bodies and I envy that also!

I’m just realizing that even if I do lose another 30 pounds (which is my long term goal), let’s face it, I’m not going to have the body of a 22 year old, regular sized woman. I guess I could, were I willing to spend massive amount on plastic surgery. But even magazines now show close ups of celebrities cellulite and some of these people, you see them in their eveningwear and they are amazingly beautiful. But they have bodies like we have bodies and those bodies are wearing out and breaking down as a result of nothing more than age. Again, not exactly new information. Just not something I had ever thought about. And maybe a small part of me did think that if I weigh 160, no matter what age, I would be firm and taunt in all the right places. I’m not particularly devastated. Just a very tiny bit sad. However I’m also not so delusional that I don’t realize that had I not spent most of my life at or around 220 pounds, my body might look better now and in the future! No one can take the credit for that but me!

On a happier note, I rode 5 miles on my bike today and I feel great! My favorite people in the entire world came over for dinner last night and we were talking about Europeans and Asians and New Yorkers, all who walk an average of 4 miles per day and as a whole, are much more fit that the average American and it inspired me! Of course, as gas creeps up, I’m finding all sorts of inspiration to ride my bike. Each time I peddle, I can pretend, for a moment, that 160 really will bring me the answers to all my dreams! (No one call for an intervention on my delusional state! I'm mostly kidding!)

Alone!!!!

I spent 2 1/2 hours on Sunday printing out itineraries, ordering tickets and packing clothes for M & McG. All of this in anticipation of their big 3 day trip to FL. They leave Wed and come back Sat. M. joked he felt like I was pushing them out the door. I just laughed, but truthfully, I have never been so excited in my life. The thought of 3 days, alone, in my house has got me giddy. I have so many things planned, not the least of which is catching up on my alone time, because I LOVE to be alone! I don't know what the attraction is. I just know that if I can get M to take McG to the movies and I get 2 hours by myself, it's like the least stressful time. Being in my car, alone, listening to music, okay singing really loudly and dancing around, but still!
My mother says I should feel guilty, since I'm acting like I won't miss McG. I tell her that I'll miss McG very much, but she's not going off to war! She's going to Disney World for 3 days!!!
I always hesitate to tell people how much I love to be alone, because I don't want anyone to think I don't love time with my friends and with my family. I do. I cherish it. I don't want anyone to ever say "Well, let's not call her and see if she can go out...she prefers to be alone..." when that is not the case. It's not that I prefer to be alone...I just LOVE to be alone! (Did I mention that?)
So they left yesterday. I was at work when they left and then believe it or not, E. came over for dinner and a movie. Just friends, not at all weird. It was nice. Then after she left, I started watching another movie and dozed a little. I woke up completely about midnight and decided to check my email before bed. Nothing there, but then I went to Youtube and ended up dancing around the room while Lisa Loeb sang "Keep on Lovin' You" and then I ended up pretending I was in a rock concert as I sang "Alone" by Heart. Stupid stuff, I'll admit, but stuff I can't do when I live with 2 other people!
This morning, I woke up at 6 and the morning, so far, has consisted of walking around my house naked. I ate breakfast and watched some TV, naked. Not sure how this experiment is going yet, but you know what? It doesn't matter. I can do whatever I want until Sat. night. And the funniest part is, my "alone time" consists of so many things with other people. My meeting tonight, then R. coming over for drinks. Lunch tomorrow with a friend and tomorrow night, I'm throwing a dinner party for 4 friends and then Sat., early lunch with A. So I could hardly be considered a longer! But between my many social engagements (HA!), I will be doing what I want, when I want, exactly how I want with zero people to criticize or scrutinize or offer friendly "suggestions". I even told my mother I would issue a restraining order if she came within 500 feet of my house! This is my time to be alone. Ann and Nancy would understand!!!

I'm not a Buddhist, I just play one on TV

This week has been so, so busy that I've been working on the same post for 7 days, but I've decided to scrap it for this one.
I came upon, this article a few weeks ago.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/15/garden/15buddhists.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

If you go to this link there's an article about this Buddhists couple. They live in a hut in Arizona and they've been together for a decade or so. They are never more than 15 feet away from each other for 10 years. 10 years. Never. They travel together, all over the world, they work together, the apparently go to the bathroom on this toilet in their 1 room hut in the AZ desert together. They read in bed together (the same book). I don't know why, but these people absolutely fascinate me. There have been 2 more articles I've read about them other places. One was an "imagined" conversation between the two principals and is actually really funny.
http://www.vanityfair.com/ontheweb/blogs/daily/2008/05/nell-scovell-wh.html#more
and the other is a couple trying the whole "Absolutely never more than 15 feet apart" on their own for 24 hours. It was also pretty amusing.
http://www.slate.com/id/2192282/
The point being that these people are just so interesting to me. Yes, part of me wants to mock and ridicule them. Part of me falls in line with many people mentioned in the article and their skepticism. The cliche of the beautiful young "student" and the older "teacher", they aren't really "together" so much as she is following him around like a puppy dog doing whatever he says.
And did I mention, they are celibate? They say in 10 years, they have not had sex.
I'm not sure what it is that just makes me so drawn to this story. Maybe it's the fact that they are a "non-traditional" family. Like I'm in a "non-traditional" family. Like gay and lesbian families are "non-traditional". It makes me feel a little special, in my own mind at least. It makes me feel different and I love feeling different. I love feeling unique. And it usually comes crashing down on me that I'm not particularly any of those things. And of course, my family is not "out". There are only a handful of people who know about my situation, to all others, we are about as traditional as you can get! One child, first marriage for both, living in the suburbs. But we're not that traditional and I kind of like that sometimes. And sometimes not. I mean, we're not non-traditional simply for the sake of being non-traditional. It's how it works best, most of the time.
The other thing that maybe makes me so interested, is the fact that they are celibate. There's something in there about his "laying hands" on her as a doctor would a patient, and she mentions that sex is a "low practice". A low practice. And there are apparently other activities that foster their sense of intimacy.
I've been thinking about celibates recently. I've been thinking about 2 years of sexual energy built up and how it generally does not really effect me, but when I would be around or go out on a date with E., then I was so aware of it and it seemed to drive me in a way. It was something that was really wonderful and really exciting and then, when nothing came of it, how infuriating and frustrating it was for a period, followed by this period of release and calm and feeling very much at peace. I've had similar experiences when I've been around people I'm attracted to and nothing comes of it. (And nothing EVER comes of it, because these aren't people who are aware of my feelings.) But this build up followed by this wonderful release, it seems secure in a way I'm not sure sex is. It doesn't feel like it during phase 2 (the frustrating part) but almost always, when phase 3 hits, it's a very satisfying calm and centeredness.
Now, I am not saying I'm becoming celibate! Let us all make that perfectly clear. When I was in my mid-late 20's, I decided to become a vegetarian. I decided that I could probably lose more weight if I did. I spent 2 days telling people I was a vegetarian and that I would not eat meat again. I think it lasted about 12 hours and then I was at McDonald's chowing down on 2 double cheeseburgers! And then for a month I had to explain to people at work why the "vegetarian" was eating a ham on wheat. But hey, if I proclaim myself celibate, maybe I'll end up having sex! :)
I'm saying that there are these moments when my body is at peace. And for me, it's not letting go of aggression and anger so much as letting go of stress and the need to think. I think A LOT! I don't say this to myself appear intelligent. It's more of a hyper thing. If I am trying to be still and be calm, it takes me 10 minutes to get away from the place where I am thinking about what I have to do at work and what time is McG's field trip and on and on but once I do, it's so joyous and wonderful. I've always said I'm a laid back person. I'm not sure that's true. I don't get angry that much. I let things happen as they happen, but I do worry. And internally, I thrive on stress and the adrenaline that comes from being disorganized and pulling out a deadline at the last minute. But this peace, which is pretty new to me, is so amazing. I felt it when K. hypnotized me. She talked me through to a place where my body felt so heavy and my mind was clear and when it was over, I felt very relaxed. This past week I took a yoga class. My first. It was amazing. It was at my office and it was wall to wall people but when it was over, I felt very relaxed (and tired!). In a week of being at 2 jobs 12 hours a day. plus doctors appt. and swimming lessons, it was so wonderful.
Maybe craving these feelings is why I've recently been wishing I still smoked pot. I got the same feeling when I did and it was actually easier to procure that trying to get this feeling through meditation or anything else! Now, again, I am NOT saying I'm going to start smoking pot. It's illegal (right or wrong) and at this point in my life, I would have absolutely no idea where to even get any. I guess I just worry that if I am able to get myself to this place of the wonderful feelings, will I eventually have to work that much harder to hit it? Will by body begin to build up an immunity to the calmness, Zen whatever the hell it is, so instead of doing X-Y-Z for 15 minutes to get there, will it take me 35? What if it does? Well, sometimes I'm working so hard at everything, I really want to be lazy when it comes to myself. Maybe that's part of the issue. If I can spend a hour looking for M's wallet and an hour looking for McG's school bag, why can't I spend 30 minutes on my own well being? Why do I always come last? I guess according to the freaky Buddhists, I'm not supposed to concern myself with self at all, is the impression I got. But I'm not a Buddhist, I'm not a celibate, I'm not a vegetarian. I'm trying to make strides in my life and I do feel a certain self awareness coming over me. (Self indulgence? Self involvement? who knows.) I just know that after the stressful week from hell, where at 1 point I was sitting in traffic, honking my horn, screaming at this woman and giving her the finger, (to qualify she was an idiot!) and another where I've got everything in my purse poured out on my car seat, crying because I couldn't find an insurance card and it was the 18th crappy thing that had happened THAT DAY, I could use a little calm and peace and it's all totally legal.