a friend showed me a book her daughter got for christmas: it's a stack of cards with the beginning of a story that leaves off at a turning point with "...and then..."
that's what life feels like lately.
it's been a hard few years.
really hard.
now granted, i take full responsibility for most of the hard stuff- i made the choice to leave work (several jobs actually) and i've always struggled with keeping a balanced budget (easy on paper, not as much in practice). i made the choice to buy and work on a house which we all know hasn't been the best choice of all time. i've made the choice to stay single. i've made so many choices.
this weekend i made another choice.
and i'm really struggling with it.
it's been a hard few years.
in addition to everything else that's been going on, i've been dealing with escalating tension at home with the teenager. i know teenagers are hard, but i had no idea it would be like this.
i don't have what i think is a "normal" teenager. i have a kid who is wicked smart, has always acted more like an adult than a kid, who has always fought to express himself and stand up for himself.
it's not bad things. within reason. but it's not great either.
it's gotten bad.
there's constant arguments. there's been holes put into walls (okay, just one, but still). there's screaming and stomping out. there's slamming doors. i know. it's not that far out of the realm of teenage angst, but it's been increasingly viscous and increasingly dangerous.
it's been talking a hard toll on me, a hard toll on the younger spawn, and i can't believe the teenager has been exactly happy either.
the hard part is that there's been this disconnect- he's GREAT at school. he's getting good grades, his teachers love him, he's respectful, helpful, a model student. he's in debate, he tutors other kids, he has a GOOD group of friends.
then he comes home.
and it's ALL different.
it's constantly bullying and tearing down his little brother. it's being disrespectful and horrible to me. it's refusing to help around the house. it's emotional and physical warfare. it's a constant battle zone. it's vicious, mean, angry, hurtful. if he doesn't get his way, EVERYONE will know about it and be punished in some way.
simple things like shoving his brother for no reason other than being in reaching distance. telling me he hates seeing the same people every day and he's sick of family when asked to do the dishes. telling me i'm stupid for rearranging furniture. it's hitting his little brother for getting something out of the fridge (he's too fat, he doesn't need more food). getting caught in a lie and telling me i need to "just deal with it."
it's been escalating over the last year. it's dangerous. more than once i've had 911 dialed because i honestly thought he was going to come at me.
so i talked to his dad a few weeks ago and asked about switching houses to see if that would help calm things down.
and we decided it would be the best course of action.
so in 4 weeks my teenager will be leaving my home to live with his father.
and i don't know where i'm at with this.
i know it will be better for everyone. it will calm things here. it will make it better for my small spawn. it will make it better for me. i hope it will make it better for the teenager.
but my son is leaving.
and i know it was going to happen in a few years for college.
and i know i'm not a failure as a parent.
and i know it's not permanent and if it doesn't work he can come home. and there's summer break and long weekends and it's not that far away really.
but.
my son is leaving.
and i worry that he thinks i don't love him or i'm punishing him or giving up. and i worry that the little spawn worries i'll send him away if he becomes challenging. and i worry that it won't be better at his dads house but i won't be able to help (there will still be phone and email, but you know...HELP, right there in the moment).
and i'm heartbroken that i couldn't make this better. i couldn't be a good enough mom to make him not hate living here or not be so angry all the time.
and i worry that i didn't do enough. i didn't try enough things. i didn't research enough to find more solutions. i didn't MOM enough.
and i know that there's a reason there's supposed to be TWO parents. i know that it takes a village to raise kids because one person doesn't have all the answers.
but it still sucks.
it sucks that he's hurt and angry and i couldn't fix it.
it sucks that i'm losing one more part of my core. there's not much left.
and i'm scared. and i'm sad. and i'm angry. and i'm hopeful. and i don't know.
i'm at this turning point in the story. and i'm waiting to see what happens.
so.
2014: "...and then?"
Showing posts with label 2013. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2013. Show all posts
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
mile marker 203
another year, another car.
about this time last year i was trading in bonnie for eve and a plane ticket to london.
well, here it is a year later, and eve has now been replaced by betty.
no, there was nothing wrong with eve, but she just...wasn't right. i don't see myself as a hatchback station wagon mom. plus, there were issues with the title from the day i bought her AND it took several days to even decide on a name for her. that should have been the first clue.
BUT, for better or worse, eve is the car that made it possible for me to get to london and back for the fairy tale adventure. i owe her a large debit of gratitude for that.
the spawns didn't (don't) understand why i traded in Eve: THERE WAS NOTHING WRONG WITH THE OTHER CAR MOM.
and granted, there wasn't. and yes, i traded down in some aspects- from a 2010 car to a 2000 car. i reasoned it all out and rationalized it- betty is a VW which is a more reliable/longer lasting car than eve, a dodge (even with higher repair costs figured in). betty also has fewer blind spots and will be better on gas mileage AND she isn't a hatch back station wagon soccer mom car. plus, betty has heated seats. and a sun roof. i've always wanted a car with a sun roof.
SEE, I HAD GOOD REASONS.
saying goodbye to eve was shockingly easy. i never really did get attached to her. but i did get to thinking- what is it that makes me want to change cars so often? and why always in october?
i bought my very first car in october- a 1988 GOLD (we're talking mr. t would have loved it GOLD) chevy beretta. this was long before the days of naming things, so that car just was what it was.
that car lasted a few years until the big spawn arrived and two doors with flip bucket seats wasn't quite working. i can't remember when exactly it was, but i'm pretty sure it was fall-ish when i switched the beretta out for the saturn sl2 (that's the best they could do? sl2? blah).
i drove the saturn through college until it DIED back during the days of marriage. it was december-ish when i took over driving the truck (through the divorce proceedings) and april when i traded the truck for annie, the focus (and the first one to get a name).
annie lasted until bonnie, bonnie begat eve, and eve begat betty. that's the way the begat thing works, right?
so, not ALL my cars are october babies, but an odd proportion of them are, particularly the last three in a row.
i'm not sure why i've taking to changing so often the last few years- maybe it's some deep seeded control issue- they've all been during/after a pretty sizeable change in life- bonnie was after my dad passed, eve was for london, and betty is after finally getting back to work.
maybe it's my fear of commitment to anything for an extended length of time- i mean, bonnie was BRAND NEW and would have lasted for years if i hadn't grown to sincerely dislike her and traded her in.
maybe it's just that i had legit issues with the cars and, since they were paid for, could afford to change out (legit to me at least).
you can tell, for all my wondering i've put so much thought into this.
either way, eve is back in foster care until she finds a new home, and bonnie is now keeping my buns toasty warm on the commute to work (heated seats = awesome).
about this time last year i was trading in bonnie for eve and a plane ticket to london.
well, here it is a year later, and eve has now been replaced by betty.
 |
| eve, top, she had a good run. betty, bottom, welcome to the family. |
no, there was nothing wrong with eve, but she just...wasn't right. i don't see myself as a hatchback station wagon mom. plus, there were issues with the title from the day i bought her AND it took several days to even decide on a name for her. that should have been the first clue.
BUT, for better or worse, eve is the car that made it possible for me to get to london and back for the fairy tale adventure. i owe her a large debit of gratitude for that.
the spawns didn't (don't) understand why i traded in Eve: THERE WAS NOTHING WRONG WITH THE OTHER CAR MOM.
and granted, there wasn't. and yes, i traded down in some aspects- from a 2010 car to a 2000 car. i reasoned it all out and rationalized it- betty is a VW which is a more reliable/longer lasting car than eve, a dodge (even with higher repair costs figured in). betty also has fewer blind spots and will be better on gas mileage AND she isn't a hatch back station wagon soccer mom car. plus, betty has heated seats. and a sun roof. i've always wanted a car with a sun roof.
SEE, I HAD GOOD REASONS.
saying goodbye to eve was shockingly easy. i never really did get attached to her. but i did get to thinking- what is it that makes me want to change cars so often? and why always in october?
i bought my very first car in october- a 1988 GOLD (we're talking mr. t would have loved it GOLD) chevy beretta. this was long before the days of naming things, so that car just was what it was.
that car lasted a few years until the big spawn arrived and two doors with flip bucket seats wasn't quite working. i can't remember when exactly it was, but i'm pretty sure it was fall-ish when i switched the beretta out for the saturn sl2 (that's the best they could do? sl2? blah).
i drove the saturn through college until it DIED back during the days of marriage. it was december-ish when i took over driving the truck (through the divorce proceedings) and april when i traded the truck for annie, the focus (and the first one to get a name).
annie lasted until bonnie, bonnie begat eve, and eve begat betty. that's the way the begat thing works, right?
so, not ALL my cars are october babies, but an odd proportion of them are, particularly the last three in a row.
i'm not sure why i've taking to changing so often the last few years- maybe it's some deep seeded control issue- they've all been during/after a pretty sizeable change in life- bonnie was after my dad passed, eve was for london, and betty is after finally getting back to work.
maybe it's my fear of commitment to anything for an extended length of time- i mean, bonnie was BRAND NEW and would have lasted for years if i hadn't grown to sincerely dislike her and traded her in.
maybe it's just that i had legit issues with the cars and, since they were paid for, could afford to change out (legit to me at least).
you can tell, for all my wondering i've put so much thought into this.
either way, eve is back in foster care until she finds a new home, and bonnie is now keeping my buns toasty warm on the commute to work (heated seats = awesome).
what's in a name?
in an effort to actually hit the publish button more often, i'm just going to start truly vomiting again on here- all the random crap that pops into my brain during the day, the strange ideas (most of them BRILLIANT by the way), the random stories- ALL of it.
i'm learning to let go of the length of the post- they don't all need to be a three part docudrama.
SO.
here we go.
i have this weird thing about names- there's certain ones i just HATE (anything that ends in an i just really needs to stop existing).
there's some i simply avoid, mainly in the dating arena- ben and steven (brothers), gary (dad).
there's certain names that just instantly make me want to vomit and punch a kitten at the same time (mike in particular).
then there's those that trigger this fucked up response in my head that...well...it's me. that's all you need to know.
for example- i can't hear the name george without saying jjjorjjje the way eva gabor did in the aristocats.
whenever i hear the name frank i think of the rescuers down under...
any time my kids yell for me across the house all i hear is MA! THE MEATLOAF!
it's been interesting at work answering the phones more and talking to all sorts of people, all different names. some times i just shake my head, other times i wish i had a time machine to go back and slap some parents. i'm sure anyone listening to me write messages thinks i'm partially crazy. mostly from the things i say while writing the names on the message board, partially just from the fact that if it isn't written straight i'll erase the whole thing and start all over.
on another name tangent- over the years i've picked up naming random inanimate objects. i've named my house, flamingos, cars, octopus hanging from my rear view mirror (bruce has now outlasted 3 cars. go bruce).
and finally, perhaps the strangest name habit- i like to assign people random middle names. really don't care what your ACTUAL middle name is, i'll give you different ones on different days. had a friend years ago that corrected me every time, and every time i called him a different middle name. not sure what it is- up until the days of twitter i NEVER used my own middle name. now there's a whole group of people that only know me as sherryrose.
some days i think it would be fun to work in an animal shelter or an orphanage to get to pick out names for all the critters and crib midgets- see if i can find something that particularly fits them. then i remember that there's the actual taking care of something after you name it and i'm tired and need a nap and realize maybe it's better to just name random things around my house.
back in the day, will shakespeare oh so romantically wrote: "what's in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." suggesting that the name doesn't have meaning, it's the person (object) behind it that is important. but i'm calling BULLSHIT. hey will...NAMES ARE IMPORTANT ASSHOLE. do you really think bartholomew shakespeare would have done so well? what about all the actors and actresses that change their names to be more catchy? NAMES ARE IMPORTANT. seriously.
imagine cinderella (or the little cinder girl for the purists) as beatrice the housekeeper. not quite the same disney ring to it now is there?
that's right. i'm calling shakespeare out. HEY WILL. YOU, ME, LOCAL STARBUCKS. IT'S ON.
not sure what the "it" is. sure as hell wouldn't want to challenge him to a writing contest. bastard was brilliant even with the occasional fuck up.
anyway- names are important. so. i'll keep naming things. and avoiding things with names i don't like that i can't rename.
i'm learning to let go of the length of the post- they don't all need to be a three part docudrama.
SO.
here we go.
i have this weird thing about names- there's certain ones i just HATE (anything that ends in an i just really needs to stop existing).
there's some i simply avoid, mainly in the dating arena- ben and steven (brothers), gary (dad).
there's certain names that just instantly make me want to vomit and punch a kitten at the same time (mike in particular).
then there's those that trigger this fucked up response in my head that...well...it's me. that's all you need to know.
for example- i can't hear the name george without saying jjjorjjje the way eva gabor did in the aristocats.
 |
| georges hautcourt, lawyer, the aristocats, disney 1970 |
whenever i hear the name frank i think of the rescuers down under...
 |
| frank the frill-necked lizard, rescuers down under, disney, 1990 |
any time my kids yell for me across the house all i hear is MA! THE MEATLOAF!
 |
| will farrell as chazz reinhold, wedding crashers, 2005 |
it's been interesting at work answering the phones more and talking to all sorts of people, all different names. some times i just shake my head, other times i wish i had a time machine to go back and slap some parents. i'm sure anyone listening to me write messages thinks i'm partially crazy. mostly from the things i say while writing the names on the message board, partially just from the fact that if it isn't written straight i'll erase the whole thing and start all over.
on another name tangent- over the years i've picked up naming random inanimate objects. i've named my house, flamingos, cars, octopus hanging from my rear view mirror (bruce has now outlasted 3 cars. go bruce).
and finally, perhaps the strangest name habit- i like to assign people random middle names. really don't care what your ACTUAL middle name is, i'll give you different ones on different days. had a friend years ago that corrected me every time, and every time i called him a different middle name. not sure what it is- up until the days of twitter i NEVER used my own middle name. now there's a whole group of people that only know me as sherryrose.
some days i think it would be fun to work in an animal shelter or an orphanage to get to pick out names for all the critters and crib midgets- see if i can find something that particularly fits them. then i remember that there's the actual taking care of something after you name it and i'm tired and need a nap and realize maybe it's better to just name random things around my house.
back in the day, will shakespeare oh so romantically wrote: "what's in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." suggesting that the name doesn't have meaning, it's the person (object) behind it that is important. but i'm calling BULLSHIT. hey will...NAMES ARE IMPORTANT ASSHOLE. do you really think bartholomew shakespeare would have done so well? what about all the actors and actresses that change their names to be more catchy? NAMES ARE IMPORTANT. seriously.
imagine cinderella (or the little cinder girl for the purists) as beatrice the housekeeper. not quite the same disney ring to it now is there?
that's right. i'm calling shakespeare out. HEY WILL. YOU, ME, LOCAL STARBUCKS. IT'S ON.
not sure what the "it" is. sure as hell wouldn't want to challenge him to a writing contest. bastard was brilliant even with the occasional fuck up.
anyway- names are important. so. i'll keep naming things. and avoiding things with names i don't like that i can't rename.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
good enough?
"It's been a whole 10 days since you've posted! I'm jonsing for my hit."
and that is why i love my friends.
I KNOW. one post a week. remember when i promised that way back in january?
yeah...
so. i was having a facebook chat the other day and the topic happened to wander into the always entertaining ground of my dating life (or lack thereof).
i've actually been going out lately- meeting different people, consuming more cups of coffee than average.
I LIKE DATING. not a big fan of the relationship thing yet (lack of experience), but the dating thing is endlessly fascinating. the chance to meet someone new, get a peek into their life. it's always interesting to me to see which topics come up, hear scraps of history, glimpse other paths. i'm a big believer in the "time and a reason for everything" school of thought. i believe that each person you meet has something to tell you or you have something to tell them and the conversation will naturally steer itself in the direction it needs to go for that day. sometimes i feel like i'm not sharing anything which means that person probably had a message for me. same thing in reverse. sometimes its all about work, sometimes family, sometimes horrible experiences, sometimes good. i don't stress about over-sharing anymore (or undersharing). i honestly believe that i say what i need to when i need to.
ANYWAY.
enough of that hippie bullshit.
what i DON'T like about dating is that i'm just not interested in anyone.
no one is making me want to rip their clothes off or wait with baited breath for their next call or text. i'm just not...you know...there is no THERE there.
and i feel like a BITCH about it. i have met some really great guys lately. not only do they have REAL jobs, cars, houses, but they're fun to talk to. they have goals and friends. they can carry on a conversation on multiple topics and they (sometimes) laugh at my terrible macabre jokes. i've enjoyed meeting several of them very much. these are REALLY GOOD GUYS.
i know. not the usual trainwreck you've been waiting for. THEIR FAULT.
but there's just no THERE there.
i feel like i'm just waiting for someone to shock me out of my stupor of sameness. they all say i'm so different, but they all blend together.
i mused with my friend the other day during our facebook chat- is there a certain point that...VA VA VA VOOM stops happening? where you're not really settling, but you're just not a twinkie 21 year old kid in love with the idea of falling in love?
when you add to it that my idea of love isn't necessarily the mushy feelings crap, but more intellectually based in the choice to care about someone and put them first even after all those butterflies have run into the bug zapper...maybe that shock factor doesn't exist or isn't realistic anymore.
is that just part of getting older? there's no longer kisses that leave you weak in the knees? there's no longer someone you can't wait to hear from again? am i just too cold and jaded for my own good?
it may be time to shift my thinking. realize that maybe there's more weight to good conversation over spark.
it's a hard idea to let go of though.
i've had kisses that left me weak in the knees and thinking that was a one time thing is a bit depressing.
i've had the cowboy two step me around the floor while singing along to "i'm holding heaven in my arms tonight." maybe i should be grateful i've had it happen. (by the way: that's a great story about how i once went out with a libertarian).
i've had the romance that i flew half way around the world for (and we all know how that turned out).
i've been the crazy girl waiting on edge for a call or text back and that isn't exactly a fun place to be.
i've been the overly emotional HOW AM I GOING TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM girl.
maybe it's time to be the HEY LOOK, A DECENT GUY girl.
maybe good enough IS good enough.
and that is why i love my friends.
I KNOW. one post a week. remember when i promised that way back in january?
yeah...
so. i was having a facebook chat the other day and the topic happened to wander into the always entertaining ground of my dating life (or lack thereof).
i've actually been going out lately- meeting different people, consuming more cups of coffee than average.
I LIKE DATING. not a big fan of the relationship thing yet (lack of experience), but the dating thing is endlessly fascinating. the chance to meet someone new, get a peek into their life. it's always interesting to me to see which topics come up, hear scraps of history, glimpse other paths. i'm a big believer in the "time and a reason for everything" school of thought. i believe that each person you meet has something to tell you or you have something to tell them and the conversation will naturally steer itself in the direction it needs to go for that day. sometimes i feel like i'm not sharing anything which means that person probably had a message for me. same thing in reverse. sometimes its all about work, sometimes family, sometimes horrible experiences, sometimes good. i don't stress about over-sharing anymore (or undersharing). i honestly believe that i say what i need to when i need to.
ANYWAY.
enough of that hippie bullshit.
what i DON'T like about dating is that i'm just not interested in anyone.
no one is making me want to rip their clothes off or wait with baited breath for their next call or text. i'm just not...you know...there is no THERE there.
and i feel like a BITCH about it. i have met some really great guys lately. not only do they have REAL jobs, cars, houses, but they're fun to talk to. they have goals and friends. they can carry on a conversation on multiple topics and they (sometimes) laugh at my terrible macabre jokes. i've enjoyed meeting several of them very much. these are REALLY GOOD GUYS.
i know. not the usual trainwreck you've been waiting for. THEIR FAULT.
but there's just no THERE there.
i feel like i'm just waiting for someone to shock me out of my stupor of sameness. they all say i'm so different, but they all blend together.
i mused with my friend the other day during our facebook chat- is there a certain point that...VA VA VA VOOM stops happening? where you're not really settling, but you're just not a twinkie 21 year old kid in love with the idea of falling in love?
when you add to it that my idea of love isn't necessarily the mushy feelings crap, but more intellectually based in the choice to care about someone and put them first even after all those butterflies have run into the bug zapper...maybe that shock factor doesn't exist or isn't realistic anymore.
is that just part of getting older? there's no longer kisses that leave you weak in the knees? there's no longer someone you can't wait to hear from again? am i just too cold and jaded for my own good?
it may be time to shift my thinking. realize that maybe there's more weight to good conversation over spark.
it's a hard idea to let go of though.
i've had kisses that left me weak in the knees and thinking that was a one time thing is a bit depressing.
i've had the cowboy two step me around the floor while singing along to "i'm holding heaven in my arms tonight." maybe i should be grateful i've had it happen. (by the way: that's a great story about how i once went out with a libertarian).
i've had the romance that i flew half way around the world for (and we all know how that turned out).
i've been the crazy girl waiting on edge for a call or text back and that isn't exactly a fun place to be.
i've been the overly emotional HOW AM I GOING TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM girl.
maybe it's time to be the HEY LOOK, A DECENT GUY girl.
maybe good enough IS good enough.
Friday, October 4, 2013
by the way...
*OFFICIAL NOTICE*
i have been working TWO WEEKS at full time hours now. the job hunt is officially over. i'm back among the standard 8-4 rat race. HOORAY.
it's the same job i've had for almost two years now- they were able to offer me full time AND I TOOK IT.
HOWEVER.
it seems that the universe likes to fuck with me as much as possible- an awesome opportunity couldn't be accepted without passing up and another equally as awesome opportunity. it could never be like HERE'S ONE OPTION. TAKE IT. of course not. that would be too nifty. my universe has to be like: hey- wandering around forever with ZERO options and nineteen kicks in the gut? well now you have to choose between THREE AMAZING THINGS ALL AT THE SAME TIME WITH NO CLUES AS TO WHICH IS THE BEST OPTION AT ALL.
i mean- thanks universe for finally pulling through, but REALLY?
SO. back to the point.
i think.
in the job interview process i was privileged enough to interview for some really fanfuckingtastic jobs including the local symphony (an office job, don't worry, i won't make you listen to my stellar piano skills any time soon), a few large corporations, and, my favorite, the INBA.
if you are unaware, locally the INBA (inland northwest business alliance) is part of a national "gay chamber of commerce." they exist to make sure there is a list of LGBT owned or allied businesses available to those who need it.
side note: i HATE that we still live in a world where people still have to worry about "straightening" their house if they need service work done or being worried about running across a non-supportive business owner when trying to arrange an event or even just spend a day shopping. it would have been an awesome job to help build the web of support of businesses willing to say HEY, WE TREAT EVERYONE EQUAL.
ANYWAY. i was called back to the second round of interview for the position but had to bow out after deciding to accept the position where i already work.
happy but sad but happy day.
ANYWAY. back to the point.
during the first round of interviews, the interview panel asked: "if you approached a business about joining the INBA and the potential member asked "well, won't everyone think i'm gay if i join?" how would you handle that?"
the very first thought in my head was: REALLY? people would think that?
the second thought was: there's probably more behind them being worried about what people think than just joining a chamber.
my third thought was: YOU'RE A BUSINESS OWNER. MONEY IS MONEY. pretty darn sure you will lose little to no business by supporting the community as a whole equal set of citizens. any business you might possibly loose? pretty sure they weren't a good client if something as basic as that scared them away. does it really matter if they fleetingly wonder about who you go home with?
ANYTWADDLE.
i thought the question was interesting. would people really think you're gay because you support LGBT?
fast forward a week or so.
my brother called for one of his usual check up/humiliation sessions. actually, i take that back. it's been better the last few times. less judgy, more just basic chatty.
he was asking about work, if i'd been on any interviews, and i proceeded to tell him about the INBA.
oh...ARE YOU GAY?
you can't make this shit up. that was the FIRST question he asked me. not how many hours. not how i heard about it. not how the interview went.
him: ARE YOU GAY?
me: well, i'm bi. you knew that didn't you?
him: ummm...i don't think i did.
me: oh. huh. well you do now.
at that point i got a call on my work line (my brother called on my cell) and i had to interrupt to answer the customer. 2 minutes later, back to my brother:
him: remember when i told you to stay away from evil men? was this your solution?
me: ummm....
and that's how i accidentally came out to my brother.
i have been working TWO WEEKS at full time hours now. the job hunt is officially over. i'm back among the standard 8-4 rat race. HOORAY.
it's the same job i've had for almost two years now- they were able to offer me full time AND I TOOK IT.
HOWEVER.
it seems that the universe likes to fuck with me as much as possible- an awesome opportunity couldn't be accepted without passing up and another equally as awesome opportunity. it could never be like HERE'S ONE OPTION. TAKE IT. of course not. that would be too nifty. my universe has to be like: hey- wandering around forever with ZERO options and nineteen kicks in the gut? well now you have to choose between THREE AMAZING THINGS ALL AT THE SAME TIME WITH NO CLUES AS TO WHICH IS THE BEST OPTION AT ALL.
i mean- thanks universe for finally pulling through, but REALLY?
SO. back to the point.
i think.
in the job interview process i was privileged enough to interview for some really fanfuckingtastic jobs including the local symphony (an office job, don't worry, i won't make you listen to my stellar piano skills any time soon), a few large corporations, and, my favorite, the INBA.
if you are unaware, locally the INBA (inland northwest business alliance) is part of a national "gay chamber of commerce." they exist to make sure there is a list of LGBT owned or allied businesses available to those who need it.
side note: i HATE that we still live in a world where people still have to worry about "straightening" their house if they need service work done or being worried about running across a non-supportive business owner when trying to arrange an event or even just spend a day shopping. it would have been an awesome job to help build the web of support of businesses willing to say HEY, WE TREAT EVERYONE EQUAL.
ANYWAY. i was called back to the second round of interview for the position but had to bow out after deciding to accept the position where i already work.
happy but sad but happy day.
ANYWAY. back to the point.
during the first round of interviews, the interview panel asked: "if you approached a business about joining the INBA and the potential member asked "well, won't everyone think i'm gay if i join?" how would you handle that?"
the very first thought in my head was: REALLY? people would think that?
the second thought was: there's probably more behind them being worried about what people think than just joining a chamber.
my third thought was: YOU'RE A BUSINESS OWNER. MONEY IS MONEY. pretty darn sure you will lose little to no business by supporting the community as a whole equal set of citizens. any business you might possibly loose? pretty sure they weren't a good client if something as basic as that scared them away. does it really matter if they fleetingly wonder about who you go home with?
ANYTWADDLE.
i thought the question was interesting. would people really think you're gay because you support LGBT?
fast forward a week or so.
my brother called for one of his usual check up/humiliation sessions. actually, i take that back. it's been better the last few times. less judgy, more just basic chatty.
he was asking about work, if i'd been on any interviews, and i proceeded to tell him about the INBA.
oh...ARE YOU GAY?
you can't make this shit up. that was the FIRST question he asked me. not how many hours. not how i heard about it. not how the interview went.
him: ARE YOU GAY?
me: well, i'm bi. you knew that didn't you?
him: ummm...i don't think i did.
me: oh. huh. well you do now.
at that point i got a call on my work line (my brother called on my cell) and i had to interrupt to answer the customer. 2 minutes later, back to my brother:
him: remember when i told you to stay away from evil men? was this your solution?
me: ummm....
and that's how i accidentally came out to my brother.
who wouldn't want this?
so, you know the drill, the online dating profile is back up (has been for a while).
sheer boredom. onset of winter. needing the lawn mowed. whatever reason, it's back up again.
the "about me" section right now is pretty scant. i've always battled what to put in there- too much and no one will read it. too little and all you get are booty messages. too snarky and they all think you're a bitch. too plain and you aren't who you appear to be if you happen to meet anyone in person.
today (late last night but i was too lazy to write then) i decided to just say FUCK IT and write a profile that _I_ like and who the fuck cares if anyone else really likes it. i mean- honestly? the online dating world is NOT where to find a tolerable ever after. may as well have a little fun and throw it all out there. right?
so. here's the profile i'll be posting tonight:
i love taco bell more than anyone should. i try to balance it out with green smoothies, quinoa and good old fashioned home cooking but i more often than not succumb to the siren song of the cheesy fake meat goodness.
i am not the girl to take on a hike. like- EVER. but, i am the girl that will go on a 3 mile fundraiser walk in the rain on a saturday morning with you. i rock the hell out of a mom suit (you know, the kind with the skirt attached) and LOVE being near water if you don't mind spending a few hours spraying me down with spf 70 so i don't flash burn in the sun like the pretend vampires in those crappy teen movies (which i have watched and read. don't judge me). that's about as sporty as i get.
i've managed to keep two spawns, a dog and assorted plants alive for quite a while without major trauma (aside from a few staples in the head- the spawns, not the dog). one of the spawn is officially in high school now which, of course, means that i've lost all my intelligence for the next several years. hope you don't mind. i've tried like h-e-double hockey sticks to raise my spawns to be open minded and accepting which can lead to some pretty interesting conversations around our house. the same extends to my friends and my non-blood family. my house is a safe zone to everyone- no judgement, open and respectful conversations.
i do have the holy trifecta: house, car, job. i pay my bills, make sure there's food in the fridge, and still manage to go out on occasion and buy myself a beer or two (on $1 pbr night anyway).
i'm a nerd of the book variety- as in there's a really expensive piece of paper somewhere in my house saying i love books enough to wade through four years of college to prove it. as such, i reserve the right to a certain amount of snobbery. i prefer my gentlemen with the ability to create full sentences, maintain an actual full conversation, and maybe, PERHAPS, not require me to pick them up at their mom's house before a date.
as to the million dollar question: what am i looking for? in a perfect world it would be joseph gordon-levitt. i mean really- a guy that can reenact singin in the rain? what more could a girl ask for? BUT. i guess i'll settle for someone that likes to go out dancing or stay home and play cards against humanity. a guy that doesn't mind being around my spawns but doesn't feel the need to take over raising them (note: they're basically done. they can do their own laundry and cook a totino's pizza. what more do you need? also: hopefully any potential candidate can at least do the same). someone who is willing to to accept my friends and is willing to introduce me to his. a sense of humor is a must- you won't make it five minutes in my universe without one. i want someone that has as much fun going to walmart as going out to a bar- fun is where you make it. you have to be as comfortable at the opera house for best of broadway as you are at the arena for a hockey game and you also have to be willing to enjoy an occasional glass of wine as well as a crappy cheap beer.
on the short list of move along son, nothing to see here:
if you've been to jail other than a monopoly game- no thanks.
if you "have swagger" get a shot for that ish and keep moving.
if you have to walk like a retarded duck to keep your pants on since you refuse to wear them at the proper level- maybe your time would be better spent belt (or pant) shopping.
if you pop your collar. really. REALLY??
if you take longer than me getting ready in the morning- i'm shallow. i don't share my mirror or my hair products.
if you can't legally take me out for a drink, you can't take me out.
if you made it this far- hug a teacher for teaching you how to read.
if you're interested in jumping in the shark tank, dive on in, the water's fine (and by that i mean it hasn't turned blue from the special dye that means someone's peed in it yet. hurry up.)
SO. that's it kids. let's see what poor suckers fall for it.
sheer boredom. onset of winter. needing the lawn mowed. whatever reason, it's back up again.
the "about me" section right now is pretty scant. i've always battled what to put in there- too much and no one will read it. too little and all you get are booty messages. too snarky and they all think you're a bitch. too plain and you aren't who you appear to be if you happen to meet anyone in person.
today (late last night but i was too lazy to write then) i decided to just say FUCK IT and write a profile that _I_ like and who the fuck cares if anyone else really likes it. i mean- honestly? the online dating world is NOT where to find a tolerable ever after. may as well have a little fun and throw it all out there. right?
so. here's the profile i'll be posting tonight:
i am not the girl to take on a hike. like- EVER. but, i am the girl that will go on a 3 mile fundraiser walk in the rain on a saturday morning with you. i rock the hell out of a mom suit (you know, the kind with the skirt attached) and LOVE being near water if you don't mind spending a few hours spraying me down with spf 70 so i don't flash burn in the sun like the pretend vampires in those crappy teen movies (which i have watched and read. don't judge me). that's about as sporty as i get.
i've managed to keep two spawns, a dog and assorted plants alive for quite a while without major trauma (aside from a few staples in the head- the spawns, not the dog). one of the spawn is officially in high school now which, of course, means that i've lost all my intelligence for the next several years. hope you don't mind. i've tried like h-e-double hockey sticks to raise my spawns to be open minded and accepting which can lead to some pretty interesting conversations around our house. the same extends to my friends and my non-blood family. my house is a safe zone to everyone- no judgement, open and respectful conversations.
i do have the holy trifecta: house, car, job. i pay my bills, make sure there's food in the fridge, and still manage to go out on occasion and buy myself a beer or two (on $1 pbr night anyway).
i'm a nerd of the book variety- as in there's a really expensive piece of paper somewhere in my house saying i love books enough to wade through four years of college to prove it. as such, i reserve the right to a certain amount of snobbery. i prefer my gentlemen with the ability to create full sentences, maintain an actual full conversation, and maybe, PERHAPS, not require me to pick them up at their mom's house before a date.
as to the million dollar question: what am i looking for? in a perfect world it would be joseph gordon-levitt. i mean really- a guy that can reenact singin in the rain? what more could a girl ask for? BUT. i guess i'll settle for someone that likes to go out dancing or stay home and play cards against humanity. a guy that doesn't mind being around my spawns but doesn't feel the need to take over raising them (note: they're basically done. they can do their own laundry and cook a totino's pizza. what more do you need? also: hopefully any potential candidate can at least do the same). someone who is willing to to accept my friends and is willing to introduce me to his. a sense of humor is a must- you won't make it five minutes in my universe without one. i want someone that has as much fun going to walmart as going out to a bar- fun is where you make it. you have to be as comfortable at the opera house for best of broadway as you are at the arena for a hockey game and you also have to be willing to enjoy an occasional glass of wine as well as a crappy cheap beer.
on the short list of move along son, nothing to see here:
if you've been to jail other than a monopoly game- no thanks.
if you "have swagger" get a shot for that ish and keep moving.
if you have to walk like a retarded duck to keep your pants on since you refuse to wear them at the proper level- maybe your time would be better spent belt (or pant) shopping.
if you pop your collar. really. REALLY??
if you take longer than me getting ready in the morning- i'm shallow. i don't share my mirror or my hair products.
if you can't legally take me out for a drink, you can't take me out.
if you made it this far- hug a teacher for teaching you how to read.
if you're interested in jumping in the shark tank, dive on in, the water's fine (and by that i mean it hasn't turned blue from the special dye that means someone's peed in it yet. hurry up.)
SO. that's it kids. let's see what poor suckers fall for it.
Friday, September 6, 2013
a very tragic sad story
i've been hesitant to share this story because the emotional scar runs DEEP.
this is, if not THE most tragic story of my life, at least in the top five.
it starts back when i was the tender age of five.
i begged and begged and begged my mom from well before the age of five for ONE thing.
PLEASE, PLEASE, can i get my ears pierced?
it was the only thing i wanted. and i had to wait YEARS until i reached the magical age of five, then, if i still wanted to get it done, i could get my ears pierced.
the magical age was finally achieved, and YES, i still wanted to get my ears pierced.
in our little town there was only one place to go- this was LONG before the days of walmart or malls filled with claire's boutiques or anything like that. there was one jewelry store in town that could fulfill a little girls life long dream.
it was called LePlante Jewelry store, located on the main street of town between a furniture store and a bank.
I still remember it exactly(ish) to this day- you walked in the front glass door and there was the never ending jewelry cases down the right side of the building, it always seemed a little dark, probably because there was a warm grey dark paint on the walls with deep red accents.
I got to climb up on the chair next to one of the jewelry cases and pick out my stud earrings (they came in a little pink box which i still have to this day and one of the earrings). They put the little purple dots on my years, made sure they were even, loaded the gun, and BAM: pierced my ears.
I WAS SO EXCITED.
i had no idea the tragedy that had just taken place that would mar me for the rest of my life.
I HAD PIERCED EARS PEOPLE.
BAM.
grown. up. as. fuck.
fast forward to some time in high school when i got a second piercing in each ear, fast forward to college when i got my cartilage (upper ear) pierced, into my late 20's and a nose piercing (twice on that one actually).
even the second set of ears didn't scar me as much as the first experience and on the second ones the gun got jammed and they had to take it all out and start over again (hurt like a bitch by the way).
you see, here's the long hidden, deep, dark, dirty secret that i've kept hidden all these years:
that first experience? the first piercings of my life?
brace yourselves.
they're...*sob*...crooked.
I KNOW, RIGHT?
how have i survived this long?
i don't mean uneven.
i don't mean unevenly spaced.
i mean...CROOKED.
oh, the horror.
i took me into my 30's to be comfortable wearing hoop earrings or anything that dangles because MY PIERCINGS ARE CROOKED. actually, just one, which is totally worse. i think. no basis for comparison really.
i know. you're all reeling from the horror.
we should start a support group or something.
see. back at the tender age of 5 when they initially took the gun to my right ear, they pointed it in (towards my head) instead of straight as far as i can tell.
the result, i'm sure several of you have noticed but have been polite enough to not point out, is that when i wear hoops or dangles or anything besides a stud, my earrings always are half way to flipping around.
it makes it really hard to talk on the phone, turn my head without getting it caught, wear my hair up, in general leave my horrifying mutilation exposed.
i've tried twisting my earrings around to straighten it out. i've thought about gauging so maybe they would hang a little looser and have more room for correction. i've hidden in shame, and finally, i've (mostly) learned to accept that i will never be "normal."
i've learned to accept that fact that my earring backs will always get tangled because they're too close together. i've learned to accept the fact that i have to buy flip closures instead of back closures since they fall off and get lost from being tangled so often.
i've learned that i can still lead a normal(ish) life, even as hard as it is.
i don't know if there's anyone else out there struggling with this. i can understand their shame and desire to hide if they are out there.
but i'm willing to stand up, speak out: I HAVE ONE CROOKED PIERCED EAR AND I'M OK.
well, kinda.
this is, if not THE most tragic story of my life, at least in the top five.
it starts back when i was the tender age of five.
i begged and begged and begged my mom from well before the age of five for ONE thing.
PLEASE, PLEASE, can i get my ears pierced?
it was the only thing i wanted. and i had to wait YEARS until i reached the magical age of five, then, if i still wanted to get it done, i could get my ears pierced.
the magical age was finally achieved, and YES, i still wanted to get my ears pierced.
in our little town there was only one place to go- this was LONG before the days of walmart or malls filled with claire's boutiques or anything like that. there was one jewelry store in town that could fulfill a little girls life long dream.
it was called LePlante Jewelry store, located on the main street of town between a furniture store and a bank.
I still remember it exactly(ish) to this day- you walked in the front glass door and there was the never ending jewelry cases down the right side of the building, it always seemed a little dark, probably because there was a warm grey dark paint on the walls with deep red accents.
I got to climb up on the chair next to one of the jewelry cases and pick out my stud earrings (they came in a little pink box which i still have to this day and one of the earrings). They put the little purple dots on my years, made sure they were even, loaded the gun, and BAM: pierced my ears.
I WAS SO EXCITED.
i had no idea the tragedy that had just taken place that would mar me for the rest of my life.
I HAD PIERCED EARS PEOPLE.
BAM.
grown. up. as. fuck.
fast forward to some time in high school when i got a second piercing in each ear, fast forward to college when i got my cartilage (upper ear) pierced, into my late 20's and a nose piercing (twice on that one actually).
even the second set of ears didn't scar me as much as the first experience and on the second ones the gun got jammed and they had to take it all out and start over again (hurt like a bitch by the way).
you see, here's the long hidden, deep, dark, dirty secret that i've kept hidden all these years:
that first experience? the first piercings of my life?
brace yourselves.
they're...*sob*...crooked.
I KNOW, RIGHT?
how have i survived this long?
i don't mean uneven.
i don't mean unevenly spaced.
i mean...CROOKED.
oh, the horror.
i took me into my 30's to be comfortable wearing hoop earrings or anything that dangles because MY PIERCINGS ARE CROOKED. actually, just one, which is totally worse. i think. no basis for comparison really.
i know. you're all reeling from the horror.
we should start a support group or something.
see. back at the tender age of 5 when they initially took the gun to my right ear, they pointed it in (towards my head) instead of straight as far as i can tell.
the result, i'm sure several of you have noticed but have been polite enough to not point out, is that when i wear hoops or dangles or anything besides a stud, my earrings always are half way to flipping around.
it makes it really hard to talk on the phone, turn my head without getting it caught, wear my hair up, in general leave my horrifying mutilation exposed.
i've tried twisting my earrings around to straighten it out. i've thought about gauging so maybe they would hang a little looser and have more room for correction. i've hidden in shame, and finally, i've (mostly) learned to accept that i will never be "normal."
i've learned to accept that fact that my earring backs will always get tangled because they're too close together. i've learned to accept the fact that i have to buy flip closures instead of back closures since they fall off and get lost from being tangled so often.
i've learned that i can still lead a normal(ish) life, even as hard as it is.
i don't know if there's anyone else out there struggling with this. i can understand their shame and desire to hide if they are out there.
but i'm willing to stand up, speak out: I HAVE ONE CROOKED PIERCED EAR AND I'M OK.
well, kinda.
 |
| see how it's trying to run away from me? |
Friday, August 2, 2013
stuck
i've been wandering around in this land of nothing for the last few weeks- only working one day a week, working on the house as i'm able (or help is available), just...drifting. there's been plenty of wasted time thanks to netflix and...honestly, i'm not sure what else.
i have worked on thinning out the crap that's stacked up around the house- furniture, clothes, STUFF, endless piles of STUFF that's accumulated over the last two years despite best efforts to routinely clean out and donate to arc or value village or give it away to people that might have a need. good god...SO MUCH STUFF. stupid consumer mindset.
anyway. i'm a fan of the drifting. it's nice to not HAVE to do things, but at the same time...i have no idea what i want to do. i have no idea what i want from a LOT of things.
but drifting only gets you so far. and it gets old QUICK.
i've never been a 10 year plan kinda gal. i've never been a corporate climber or one of those people with nine billion business ideas but no time to do them. hell, all i have lately is time and no ideas.
i still don't really know what i want to be when i grow up- i know what i'm good at, i know what i enjoy doing, but none of those things are what i could see myself doing day after day until the time social security (if it still exists then) kicks in.
i love writing- but do i want to do it every day under deadline and with other people editing/critiquing constantly? i honestly don't know.
i love making jewelry. doesn't exactly pay the bills.
i'm a damn good secretary but i tend to get bored sitting at the same desk pushing the same papers day after day.
so today i'm sitting here thinking about what i want.
********************
ok. so i started this blog a few weeks ago and circled back to it again today. i did not change ONE. SINGLE. THING. all the feelings are the same, everything is the same.
WHICH ISN'T GOOD.
i means i haven't pulled myself out of my funk yet.
it means i'm wallowing.
pigs wallow.
in mud.
and poop.
ew.
so. if nothing else, the funk has gotten worse over the last few weeks which makes me want to haul my ass out even more.
the last week has been especially hard- everything around me is changing.
friends are starting school or finishing school or off to start new careers. new babies are arriving. relationships are changing. friends are reaching their AMAZING career goals (side note: sitting with a great friend when they get the job offer of a life time is an amazing moment).
it sounds strange, but my #wednesdaynightshenannigans coming to an end this week hit particularly hard. see, if you haven't been properly stalking me for the last 2.5 years then what you don't know is that every wednesday i have MY bar, MY band, MY night out. it's been the same place and time and band every wednesday (as much as possible anyway) for TWO AND A HALF years. that ended this week. the band is going through some changes and it this week was the last performance in this bar on wednesdays.
YES, the bar will still be there. YES, they'll still have music. YES, my band is still playing (in different locations with a new guitar player). so the world isn't ENDING, but pretty damn close.
it was just...this moment. the end of an era. one more in a series of changes while i'm stuck sitting still.
and i feel STUCK.
i'm waiting...
waiting to hear back from resumes sent out. waiting for the house to sell. waiting for the teenage spawn to decide where he wants to live. waiting...waiting...waiting.
and i'm TRYING to do things. i've got the house as finished as possible to sell. i'm sending out applications and kicking buckets. i'm talking to the spawn and helping him reason through things.
but NOTHING is happening.
and i'm just.
STUCK.
and everything around me is changing and growing and taking shape.
and here i am.
and it sucks.
and i think the hardest thing is that i still DON'T KNOW what exactly i'm looking for. i don't know where i want to be. i don't know.
i don't know if i want to stay in spokane.
i don't know if i still want to be a secretary.
i don't know if it's better for the teenager to be with me or his dad at this point.
i just...don't know.
and it's hard to get traction to do anything when you do know what the thing is you want to do.
and i feel like i'm SO CLOSE to something. i feel like there's this huge moment just around the corner, but i can't quite round it yet.
i'm just.
frustrated.
and i know that when i'm frustrated is when i need to write the most. and i haven't even been doing that. and i say i will. and i have a million ideas of things to write about. but by the time i sit down to do it i'd rather browse hours of nothingness on netflix instead.
yes, i realize how lame that is.
i need some kind of a kick in the ass. i need something to connect. and i know when it does it will be excellent. hell, my fortune cookie told me so, see:
i just need to unstuckify myself.
so. if you need me, i'll be over here with the proverbial crow bar.
in the mean time...any writing suggestions? questions about anything that i can answer in long vomitous rambling form?
i have worked on thinning out the crap that's stacked up around the house- furniture, clothes, STUFF, endless piles of STUFF that's accumulated over the last two years despite best efforts to routinely clean out and donate to arc or value village or give it away to people that might have a need. good god...SO MUCH STUFF. stupid consumer mindset.
anyway. i'm a fan of the drifting. it's nice to not HAVE to do things, but at the same time...i have no idea what i want to do. i have no idea what i want from a LOT of things.
but drifting only gets you so far. and it gets old QUICK.
i've never been a 10 year plan kinda gal. i've never been a corporate climber or one of those people with nine billion business ideas but no time to do them. hell, all i have lately is time and no ideas.
i still don't really know what i want to be when i grow up- i know what i'm good at, i know what i enjoy doing, but none of those things are what i could see myself doing day after day until the time social security (if it still exists then) kicks in.
i love writing- but do i want to do it every day under deadline and with other people editing/critiquing constantly? i honestly don't know.
i love making jewelry. doesn't exactly pay the bills.
i'm a damn good secretary but i tend to get bored sitting at the same desk pushing the same papers day after day.
so today i'm sitting here thinking about what i want.
********************
ok. so i started this blog a few weeks ago and circled back to it again today. i did not change ONE. SINGLE. THING. all the feelings are the same, everything is the same.
WHICH ISN'T GOOD.
i means i haven't pulled myself out of my funk yet.
it means i'm wallowing.
pigs wallow.
in mud.
and poop.
ew.
so. if nothing else, the funk has gotten worse over the last few weeks which makes me want to haul my ass out even more.
the last week has been especially hard- everything around me is changing.
friends are starting school or finishing school or off to start new careers. new babies are arriving. relationships are changing. friends are reaching their AMAZING career goals (side note: sitting with a great friend when they get the job offer of a life time is an amazing moment).
it sounds strange, but my #wednesdaynightshenannigans coming to an end this week hit particularly hard. see, if you haven't been properly stalking me for the last 2.5 years then what you don't know is that every wednesday i have MY bar, MY band, MY night out. it's been the same place and time and band every wednesday (as much as possible anyway) for TWO AND A HALF years. that ended this week. the band is going through some changes and it this week was the last performance in this bar on wednesdays.
YES, the bar will still be there. YES, they'll still have music. YES, my band is still playing (in different locations with a new guitar player). so the world isn't ENDING, but pretty damn close.
it was just...this moment. the end of an era. one more in a series of changes while i'm stuck sitting still.
and i feel STUCK.
i'm waiting...
waiting to hear back from resumes sent out. waiting for the house to sell. waiting for the teenage spawn to decide where he wants to live. waiting...waiting...waiting.
and i'm TRYING to do things. i've got the house as finished as possible to sell. i'm sending out applications and kicking buckets. i'm talking to the spawn and helping him reason through things.
but NOTHING is happening.
and i'm just.
STUCK.
and everything around me is changing and growing and taking shape.
and here i am.
and it sucks.
and i think the hardest thing is that i still DON'T KNOW what exactly i'm looking for. i don't know where i want to be. i don't know.
i don't know if i want to stay in spokane.
i don't know if i still want to be a secretary.
i don't know if it's better for the teenager to be with me or his dad at this point.
i just...don't know.
and it's hard to get traction to do anything when you do know what the thing is you want to do.
and i feel like i'm SO CLOSE to something. i feel like there's this huge moment just around the corner, but i can't quite round it yet.
i'm just.
frustrated.
and i know that when i'm frustrated is when i need to write the most. and i haven't even been doing that. and i say i will. and i have a million ideas of things to write about. but by the time i sit down to do it i'd rather browse hours of nothingness on netflix instead.
yes, i realize how lame that is.
i need some kind of a kick in the ass. i need something to connect. and i know when it does it will be excellent. hell, my fortune cookie told me so, see:
i just need to unstuckify myself.
so. if you need me, i'll be over here with the proverbial crow bar.
in the mean time...any writing suggestions? questions about anything that i can answer in long vomitous rambling form?
Saturday, June 22, 2013
what doesn't kill you still hurts like fuck
i've been trying to sit down and write this for well over a week now.
i've been through a full season of friends while procrastinating, worked on the house, mowed the lawn, sat starting at nothing for a good many hours, talked to friends, gone to work...hell, i even went on a small shopping spree trying to avoid this.
yet here we are.
i've started, restarted, hand written, cussed and discussed with friends, i can't seem to make this one come out the way it needs to. or maybe the way i think i need it to.
so. if i can't make it come out the way i think it needs to, then how does it REALLY need to come out?
two weeks ago i was quietly minding my own business when a voicemail came in:
"hi there, we're on our way to town and wanted to know if we could stop and say goodbye to the boys. (insert tragic crying here). we're moving to alabama and wanted a chance to say hello and goodbye."
thanks. MOM.
yeah. my mom calls and gives me an hour notice she's moving across the country. spiffy.
so i called back. told her she could stop by but her husband still isn't allowed near my house. i have this funny rule about not letting pedophiles near my kids. strange, i know. overprotective bitch of a mom i guess.
"but you'll be there the whole time..."
no. not sorry at all. WILL NOT let a pedophile around my kids. PERIOD. end of sentence.
"oh. well then i'll be in contact."
oh rejection. we meet again.
my mother is moving across the country, gives an hour notice, and AGAIN (still) decides a pedophile is more important to her than her own blood.
*sigh*
at least i've learned that it's not ME. i've done nothing wrong. her choices are HER choices. i'll never know why. i'll never be able to change it. all i can do is stand my ground, protect my kids, and let the rest roll off.
if you know me at all, you know how hard it is to write that small paragraph. let it roll off. it's not me.
so. i call my brother to find out what's going on. long story short- job changes.
BUT. my brother happens to mention that he came up on memorial day for a goodbye party at mums house.
i'm sorry.
WHAT?
he drove through town with his family TWICE. there and back. TWICE. and didn't bother to call, stop by, give me a heads up or anything.
so. yeah. that rejection thing. twice in under an hour.
ouch.
oh, and remember that whole break up thing just a few days before?
how many hits can an ego take in three days?
so. there it is. three strikes. fucking ow.
surprisingly, that all didn't rattle me as much as i thought it would. at least not in the way i thought it would. i didn't go through the rejection feelings i normally would. i didn't feel wrong or broken. i didn't feel at fault, or damaged. i know it's their decisions. i know i'm still ok. i know i can't answer things for them or change their minds. i know that it will only drive me bat shit crazy trying to answer the why. i know that i just have to say THAT SUCKS. that really fucking sucks ass. it hurts like a mother fucker. it isn't the way it should (yes, i understand that should's are a problem in themselves) be. IT FUCKING HURTS. even if i'm ok not knowing why. even if i'm ok knowing it's not me. even if i'm ok still loving who i am- IT STILL FUCKING SUCKS.
so i say that. i recognize that. i own that.
and i move on.
or i sit still in one place it turns out.
i'm not hurt, but i'm also not moving forward.
here it is a few weeks later and i'm drifting. i've got my head up my ass making some shit decisions, letting myself get lost in a few strange/unexpected ways.
and then another blow to the good old ego.
my mom stopped by today completely out of the blue. just pulled up to my house at noon on a friday.
a) why the fuck isn't she in alabama?
b) why the fuck is she stopping by without calling?
c) what the fuck could she possibly want?
no answers to a or b, but the answer to c was apparently to prove to me again why i'm better off without her in my life.
she had a bunch of shit for me. while cleaning out the house she "found" a bunch of stuff from my dad. his john denver records, some necklaces he'd given her WAY back in the day (30ish years ago), and some other random shit.
best way to start off a conversation?
"i have some stuff from your dad for you."
ummm- my dad's been dead THREE YEARS.
any stuff you "have from him" should have been handed over a fuck of a long time ago or left alone.
but of course it can't just be a one two punch of her showing up and finally turning over my dad's stuff. good things come in threes after all, don't they?
what other great parting shots/gifts does she have for me?
how about a giant fucking poster board from my WEDDING RECEPTION.
yeah. that domestic violence marriage i fought like hell to get out of 10 years ago?
OF COURSE i would love a giant reminder of that.
couldn't have just taken the pictures off and passed those along? had to pass on the whole fucking poster board too?
obviously the effort went in at some point to remove his photos. couldn't just pop out the other ones and trash the board? literally took about 15 seconds to do this afternoon. but...you know...why NOT pass along the whole reminder of the marriage and just rip open that scar too?
*SIGH*
so here i sit tonight. i've done a LOT of writing the last few days and more this afternoon. the actual physical writing stuff. pen to paper, empty the brain, work through all the shit that's been back piling and distracting me.
i don't know if i have any answers. i do know that i recognize things aren't going where they need to be, my head isn't where it needs to be, and my decision making sure as fuck isn't where it needs to be.
i know that my issues are bullshit at the end of the day; there's people with real shit going on. more than someone stopping by with a poster board. more than a few hurt feelings over a break up or a brother not visiting while driving through town. i realize that i need to keep perspective- there's people dealing with cancer and death and unemployment, people losing their homes, PTSD, REAL SHIT.
i didn't know how to start this and i don't know how to end this. this week is a "mommy vacation" week- the spawns will both be gone for a few days so i'm going to take this time to get my shit together, get a plan, get back on a track at least and start making some movement forward again. i'll finish up the house, get it listed again, start considering work again, get some sense of purpose and, hell, maybe even a plan.
i know. crazy talk. me with a plan. next thing i'm going to have a 5 year goal.
oh lordy. i crack me up.
anyway.
i've been through a full season of friends while procrastinating, worked on the house, mowed the lawn, sat starting at nothing for a good many hours, talked to friends, gone to work...hell, i even went on a small shopping spree trying to avoid this.
yet here we are.
i've started, restarted, hand written, cussed and discussed with friends, i can't seem to make this one come out the way it needs to. or maybe the way i think i need it to.
so. if i can't make it come out the way i think it needs to, then how does it REALLY need to come out?
two weeks ago i was quietly minding my own business when a voicemail came in:
"hi there, we're on our way to town and wanted to know if we could stop and say goodbye to the boys. (insert tragic crying here). we're moving to alabama and wanted a chance to say hello and goodbye."
thanks. MOM.
yeah. my mom calls and gives me an hour notice she's moving across the country. spiffy.
so i called back. told her she could stop by but her husband still isn't allowed near my house. i have this funny rule about not letting pedophiles near my kids. strange, i know. overprotective bitch of a mom i guess.
"but you'll be there the whole time..."
no. not sorry at all. WILL NOT let a pedophile around my kids. PERIOD. end of sentence.
"oh. well then i'll be in contact."
oh rejection. we meet again.
my mother is moving across the country, gives an hour notice, and AGAIN (still) decides a pedophile is more important to her than her own blood.
*sigh*
at least i've learned that it's not ME. i've done nothing wrong. her choices are HER choices. i'll never know why. i'll never be able to change it. all i can do is stand my ground, protect my kids, and let the rest roll off.
if you know me at all, you know how hard it is to write that small paragraph. let it roll off. it's not me.
so. i call my brother to find out what's going on. long story short- job changes.
BUT. my brother happens to mention that he came up on memorial day for a goodbye party at mums house.
i'm sorry.
WHAT?
he drove through town with his family TWICE. there and back. TWICE. and didn't bother to call, stop by, give me a heads up or anything.
so. yeah. that rejection thing. twice in under an hour.
ouch.
oh, and remember that whole break up thing just a few days before?
how many hits can an ego take in three days?
so. there it is. three strikes. fucking ow.
surprisingly, that all didn't rattle me as much as i thought it would. at least not in the way i thought it would. i didn't go through the rejection feelings i normally would. i didn't feel wrong or broken. i didn't feel at fault, or damaged. i know it's their decisions. i know i'm still ok. i know i can't answer things for them or change their minds. i know that it will only drive me bat shit crazy trying to answer the why. i know that i just have to say THAT SUCKS. that really fucking sucks ass. it hurts like a mother fucker. it isn't the way it should (yes, i understand that should's are a problem in themselves) be. IT FUCKING HURTS. even if i'm ok not knowing why. even if i'm ok knowing it's not me. even if i'm ok still loving who i am- IT STILL FUCKING SUCKS.
so i say that. i recognize that. i own that.
and i move on.
or i sit still in one place it turns out.
i'm not hurt, but i'm also not moving forward.
here it is a few weeks later and i'm drifting. i've got my head up my ass making some shit decisions, letting myself get lost in a few strange/unexpected ways.
and then another blow to the good old ego.
my mom stopped by today completely out of the blue. just pulled up to my house at noon on a friday.
a) why the fuck isn't she in alabama?
b) why the fuck is she stopping by without calling?
c) what the fuck could she possibly want?
no answers to a or b, but the answer to c was apparently to prove to me again why i'm better off without her in my life.
she had a bunch of shit for me. while cleaning out the house she "found" a bunch of stuff from my dad. his john denver records, some necklaces he'd given her WAY back in the day (30ish years ago), and some other random shit.
best way to start off a conversation?
"i have some stuff from your dad for you."
ummm- my dad's been dead THREE YEARS.
any stuff you "have from him" should have been handed over a fuck of a long time ago or left alone.
but of course it can't just be a one two punch of her showing up and finally turning over my dad's stuff. good things come in threes after all, don't they?
what other great parting shots/gifts does she have for me?
how about a giant fucking poster board from my WEDDING RECEPTION.
yeah. that domestic violence marriage i fought like hell to get out of 10 years ago?
OF COURSE i would love a giant reminder of that.
couldn't have just taken the pictures off and passed those along? had to pass on the whole fucking poster board too?
*SIGH*
so here i sit tonight. i've done a LOT of writing the last few days and more this afternoon. the actual physical writing stuff. pen to paper, empty the brain, work through all the shit that's been back piling and distracting me.
i don't know if i have any answers. i do know that i recognize things aren't going where they need to be, my head isn't where it needs to be, and my decision making sure as fuck isn't where it needs to be.
i know that my issues are bullshit at the end of the day; there's people with real shit going on. more than someone stopping by with a poster board. more than a few hurt feelings over a break up or a brother not visiting while driving through town. i realize that i need to keep perspective- there's people dealing with cancer and death and unemployment, people losing their homes, PTSD, REAL SHIT.
i didn't know how to start this and i don't know how to end this. this week is a "mommy vacation" week- the spawns will both be gone for a few days so i'm going to take this time to get my shit together, get a plan, get back on a track at least and start making some movement forward again. i'll finish up the house, get it listed again, start considering work again, get some sense of purpose and, hell, maybe even a plan.
i know. crazy talk. me with a plan. next thing i'm going to have a 5 year goal.
oh lordy. i crack me up.
anyway.
Friday, June 7, 2013
i'll be there for you
so. i know i haven't written in a long time. i've wanted to write, but haven't know what or how.
i've been caught up with a boyfriend. and not in that- what a bitch, gets a boyfriend and disappears on us kinda way. in an...i don't know what i can legally (or safely) write about him and our issues so i haven't written at all kind of way.
DON'T WORRY, i'm out of it now. but yes, it was one that i honestly didn't feel ok to write about. there's your first clue it wasn't good for me.
BUT.
some very, VERY good things did come out of it in the end.
most important: i have some of the most amazing friends and support any girl could EVER ask for.
things with the boy were...interesting...from the beginning. since day one my friends have listened, supported, and been there while i worked through and gave it a really damn hard try. most (ok, all) of them didn't particularly like the decisions i was making and didn't necessarily like the boy or some of the things that came with him, but the still loved me and stuck by me.
i can't even begin to say how much that meant.
i'm from a family that literally said: "you know, we'll only be here for you so many times before you're on your own."
family isn't blood and blood isn't family. i've been reminded of that one more time.
my people, my dear friends listened, helped me talk things out, pointed out things that i was missing, reminded me that they were worried about me, kept an eye on me but still let me take my journey and were there for me at the end of the day and at the end of this particular path.
i LOVE them for that. and it reminds me of the friend i need to be back for them. no judgement, love, support, acceptance even if it's not what you'd wish for them. listening even when it's the same thing over and again. being there and being able to (nicely) say YOU'RE BEING AN IDIOT but i still support you and will be here for you.
i LOVE my friends. i am so happy that i have each and every one of them. they all have a different perspective, a different way of pointing things out to me, a different way of supporting me, making me laugh, helping me get through some of the rough times. from helping me drink a $5 bottle of wine or a 6 pack of beer or a cup of coffee. friends that can babysit me while i sit at home crying, friends that i can go out with on a wednesday night, friends that i can chill and have a beer on a back deck and a real discussion with (yes, alcohol was mentioned several times. it helped. shut it.). they all together make this beautiful web of support that i am so lucky and blessed to have.
SECOND lesson: i tried. i really tried. lord knows there were plenty of issues and i didn't just cut and run. ok. YES it only lasted two months, so it's not like i did a giant marathon, but TWO MONTHS IS A LONG TIME FOR ME! OK?! honestly, longer than anything in the last 10 years. I mean- there were a few lovers that lasted longer, but no "relationships" where i was actually "with" someone. so. this was big. i also haven't cared this much about someone in that long too. i was ALL IN on this one. and yes, sill that fast, but there was something about it. i know. i can't care about someone after a ton of time but then BAM, all in after just a few days. i can't explain it but it happened. and i tried. and i talked about things. and i tried to see things from multiple standpoints. and i tried to be patient and wait things out. but at the end of the day, you can't stay where you're not wanted. and it was painfully obvious that i wasn't wanted, so i had to leave. i wanted to stay. i wanted to make it work. i wanted to be in for the long haul. but you can't make decisions for people, and as much as i wanted to, i couldn't make him choose me or make him decide i was important to him.
but i did try. i did learn. i did grow. i did realize that i am capable of opening up and really caring about someone. i did learn that i can fight for things but still know when it's a loosing battle. i learned to stay true to me. i started to let myself slip, my friends could see me starting to change, i could feel me starting to change and so i got out. i didn't let myself get lost.
THIRD lesson: IT WASN'T ME. there isn't some fatal flaw. there isn't something horribly wrong with me. i didn't ruin this, i am not broken.
that's a BIG sentence for me to write. i am still as beautiful and desirable and smart as the first day he asked me out, and other people see that. i couldn't choose for him. and it was HIS choice. it isn't me that's wrong. it isn't him that's wrong. it just not the right time/place/fitting for us. not being right doesn't mean it's wrong.
i'm sad. i'm depressed. i'm heart broken. i'm all the things you are when something that has completely captured you falls apart. BUT i don't dislike me. i'm not blaming. i'm not hating.
i recognize that i am still fucking amazing. that's what drew him to me in the first place. it's what draws others. I AM STILL OK. i have my issues. i'm WELL aware of that. but i'm not "should-ing" myself or comparing myself or tearing myself apart trying to figure out questions that i will never have answers to because they're not my questions. i don't know why i wasn't right for him. i never will. but that's not MY issue to figure out. that's HIS issue to figure out and i won't tear myself apart or waste my time and energy trying to fix it. i don't know why SO MANY THINGS but it's ok. and i'm ok. and i'm choosing not to go down that road of destruction and hurt. there's already enough hurt as it is, i don't need to intentionally add more to myself.
so. i'm getting back to me. i'm SO THANKFUL for my friends. i'm thankful for the people that stood by me and gently reminded me to get my ass back behind the keyboard and be me again. i'm thankful for all the listening ears and compassionate hearts and cold beers.
i'm thankful for the lessons, no matter how much they hurt. i'm thankful for the experience. i'm still sad. i'm still camping out on my couch and laying low. but i'll be ok. and i know i'll have friends there helping me be ok.
so. i'm working on writing more. actual short stories and things as well as the blogs. yes, i still want to write "lessons learned the not so hard way" about all my horrible (and some ok) sexcapades. yes, i still want to write about all the things i've been through that got me to be the person i am now (but with a few names and details slightly changed). i want to WRITE. so i am. this is a start. back to the goal of at least once a week. i promise. and yell at me if i don't.
thanks to anyone that happens to be reading this for being patient with me.
i've been caught up with a boyfriend. and not in that- what a bitch, gets a boyfriend and disappears on us kinda way. in an...i don't know what i can legally (or safely) write about him and our issues so i haven't written at all kind of way.
DON'T WORRY, i'm out of it now. but yes, it was one that i honestly didn't feel ok to write about. there's your first clue it wasn't good for me.
BUT.
some very, VERY good things did come out of it in the end.
most important: i have some of the most amazing friends and support any girl could EVER ask for.
things with the boy were...interesting...from the beginning. since day one my friends have listened, supported, and been there while i worked through and gave it a really damn hard try. most (ok, all) of them didn't particularly like the decisions i was making and didn't necessarily like the boy or some of the things that came with him, but the still loved me and stuck by me.
i can't even begin to say how much that meant.
i'm from a family that literally said: "you know, we'll only be here for you so many times before you're on your own."
family isn't blood and blood isn't family. i've been reminded of that one more time.
my people, my dear friends listened, helped me talk things out, pointed out things that i was missing, reminded me that they were worried about me, kept an eye on me but still let me take my journey and were there for me at the end of the day and at the end of this particular path.
i LOVE them for that. and it reminds me of the friend i need to be back for them. no judgement, love, support, acceptance even if it's not what you'd wish for them. listening even when it's the same thing over and again. being there and being able to (nicely) say YOU'RE BEING AN IDIOT but i still support you and will be here for you.
i LOVE my friends. i am so happy that i have each and every one of them. they all have a different perspective, a different way of pointing things out to me, a different way of supporting me, making me laugh, helping me get through some of the rough times. from helping me drink a $5 bottle of wine or a 6 pack of beer or a cup of coffee. friends that can babysit me while i sit at home crying, friends that i can go out with on a wednesday night, friends that i can chill and have a beer on a back deck and a real discussion with (yes, alcohol was mentioned several times. it helped. shut it.). they all together make this beautiful web of support that i am so lucky and blessed to have.
SECOND lesson: i tried. i really tried. lord knows there were plenty of issues and i didn't just cut and run. ok. YES it only lasted two months, so it's not like i did a giant marathon, but TWO MONTHS IS A LONG TIME FOR ME! OK?! honestly, longer than anything in the last 10 years. I mean- there were a few lovers that lasted longer, but no "relationships" where i was actually "with" someone. so. this was big. i also haven't cared this much about someone in that long too. i was ALL IN on this one. and yes, sill that fast, but there was something about it. i know. i can't care about someone after a ton of time but then BAM, all in after just a few days. i can't explain it but it happened. and i tried. and i talked about things. and i tried to see things from multiple standpoints. and i tried to be patient and wait things out. but at the end of the day, you can't stay where you're not wanted. and it was painfully obvious that i wasn't wanted, so i had to leave. i wanted to stay. i wanted to make it work. i wanted to be in for the long haul. but you can't make decisions for people, and as much as i wanted to, i couldn't make him choose me or make him decide i was important to him.
but i did try. i did learn. i did grow. i did realize that i am capable of opening up and really caring about someone. i did learn that i can fight for things but still know when it's a loosing battle. i learned to stay true to me. i started to let myself slip, my friends could see me starting to change, i could feel me starting to change and so i got out. i didn't let myself get lost.
THIRD lesson: IT WASN'T ME. there isn't some fatal flaw. there isn't something horribly wrong with me. i didn't ruin this, i am not broken.
that's a BIG sentence for me to write. i am still as beautiful and desirable and smart as the first day he asked me out, and other people see that. i couldn't choose for him. and it was HIS choice. it isn't me that's wrong. it isn't him that's wrong. it just not the right time/place/fitting for us. not being right doesn't mean it's wrong.
i'm sad. i'm depressed. i'm heart broken. i'm all the things you are when something that has completely captured you falls apart. BUT i don't dislike me. i'm not blaming. i'm not hating.
i recognize that i am still fucking amazing. that's what drew him to me in the first place. it's what draws others. I AM STILL OK. i have my issues. i'm WELL aware of that. but i'm not "should-ing" myself or comparing myself or tearing myself apart trying to figure out questions that i will never have answers to because they're not my questions. i don't know why i wasn't right for him. i never will. but that's not MY issue to figure out. that's HIS issue to figure out and i won't tear myself apart or waste my time and energy trying to fix it. i don't know why SO MANY THINGS but it's ok. and i'm ok. and i'm choosing not to go down that road of destruction and hurt. there's already enough hurt as it is, i don't need to intentionally add more to myself.
so. i'm getting back to me. i'm SO THANKFUL for my friends. i'm thankful for the people that stood by me and gently reminded me to get my ass back behind the keyboard and be me again. i'm thankful for all the listening ears and compassionate hearts and cold beers.
i'm thankful for the lessons, no matter how much they hurt. i'm thankful for the experience. i'm still sad. i'm still camping out on my couch and laying low. but i'll be ok. and i know i'll have friends there helping me be ok.
so. i'm working on writing more. actual short stories and things as well as the blogs. yes, i still want to write "lessons learned the not so hard way" about all my horrible (and some ok) sexcapades. yes, i still want to write about all the things i've been through that got me to be the person i am now (but with a few names and details slightly changed). i want to WRITE. so i am. this is a start. back to the goal of at least once a week. i promise. and yell at me if i don't.
thanks to anyone that happens to be reading this for being patient with me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
