I Surrender

"Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds." - Orison Swett Marden

This doesn't have much to do with anything.  LOOK AT THOSE LITTLE FLUFFS!! *LOOK AT THEM*

I’ve missed this. I’ve missed this a heck of a lot. Unfortunately, my schedule hasn’t permitted much room for creativity. I’ve been working 2 jobs since July. I work on the weekends at the airport. I thought I’d help us get ahead financially. What happened with that is just one thing after another that demands the extra money. So, I tell myself to calm down, pick up another debt tackling book (I hear Dave Ramsey’s methods have done wonders for people), and try again when I can now that I’m finally starting to find some form of a ‘groove’ in my life.

It’s not the 2 jobs so much as it is a lot of other things in life that manages to drain my soul dry. My commute is long and frustrating. I’m looking at a minimum of 1 hour no matter which method I choose to use traveling to and from work and home. I’ve been sticking to my bike as much as possible because that at least gives me a good amount of exercise during the week and serves as a stress outlet for my work environment. I think the main issue I have with that commute is that it just makes for a really long day. Now that I’m working 4 10’s instead of 8 hour M-F, my days feel even longer. The plus side is that I now have a day off, and I’ve been working 7 straight for months on end.

And I’m tired. So very tired. There’s a lot of factors that contribute to my lethargy. My work stress, my work load, my family, and also the fact that I feel as if I’ve never really had time to process just the events of the beginning of the year. I lost a baby; and I was elated beyond words at the thought of that baby. I moved in with The One, Micheal. Just a couple of months after that Micheal’s son, Kolby, came to stay with us for 9 weeks. And in the middle of that I was planning one killer surprise birthday party bash for Micheal.

Get it?! It was pun themed and karaoke. Two of his favorite things. 

On a side note, I have to give myself bragging rights. I spent months planning that party, putting together favor bags for guests to take home, coming up with ideas, etc. While he has considerably more time at home than me, I still managed to get it all together without him knowing. I am awesome. .  . or he’s just really good at pretending to be surprised. Touché, Sir. Touché.

With Kolby there for the summer, I had my first shot at being a step mom to a tween boy. He’s recently turned 12 and caught in that space between childlike and paving on into adult hood. I found I really suck at it. I’ve done youth support groups, but all of my work with children and teens has been with females. What on earth was I going to do with a boy?! Also, I was certainly the Debbie Downer. Father’s stance: Sure! You can watch tv and play video games while I’m at work. When I’m home, we can play them together until 12 AM in the morning. My Stance: Heck no! What have you done to better yourself or contribute to the greater good?! Go outside and learn something!!!

 I just wish I could have been around to provide some form of mentor or companionship. Heck, I wish I could have afforded to send him to a really cool learning camp during the day. But I can’t; so I was the voice of reason most of the time: well balanced meals, do some chores, I don’t care if you don’t like the look of that vegetable you’ll try it anyway, etc.

And I feel for that kid. His situation sucks. It sucks for everyone, really. I try not to think about it too much because there isn’t anything I can do about it. I can only hope something gives and that I’m doing what’s best for him. I felt like I was far more neurotic with him with us. I had to take far more care to what I wore around the apartment, locking doors while in bedroom, shower, etc. He’s at an age where I need to be cautious with those things. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that it felt like an impossible adjustment while I was trying to process my loss.

Loss wasn’t my only experience. The other was abandonment. My adopted family decided to sell most of their possessions and buy a house in Hawaii. Of course, the biological son moved with them (the one who hasn’t had a job in decades or paid his way through life) and there wasn’t even a mention of ‘Sorry we’re moving so far’ – like no remorse whatsoever. I suppose I should have expected that, but I was also holding onto some shred of hope that my entire situation with them wasn’t the sham that I thought it was.

Abandonment: that awful feeling of being unloved, unwanted, not good enough. 

They would call me every so often after their move. I was working 7 days a week and they’d make me feel guilty for not reaching me right away and tell me about tiling their backyard. I was riding my bike home one evening, thinking about how I was going to find time to take my car into DEQ and register because I was overdue. I was worried about getting a ticket. I started to take note of the things around me: the smells, the shops, the types of buildings. I realized this was something that wasn’t seen in an affluent neighborhood. My adopted family wouldn’t allow anything like that to be anywhere near where they lived. None of the residents of an affluent neighborhood would. And I realized that tickets are really only given to the poor and I wouldn’t have to worry about my registration being overdue if I had still lived in the same neighborhood as my adopted family. That was when I realized this family wasn’t even on the same planet as me and I needed some space.

So I backed off. I changed my cell phone number and didn’t give it to adopted mother or brother. They kept calling Micheal’s phone. Then their calls increased to where they were calling several times a day. I wound up writing them an email asking them to stop and saying that I needed space to sort out how my relationships will be defined going forward. I give them credit for honoring my request. Yesterday, I received a Christmas card in the mail from adopted mother that was all about family. I had no reaction to it, really.

And there was a span of time where I questioned if I’m doing the right thing. My therapist has been telling me to get out of that situation for years and reiterated that I absolutely am doing the right thing. Before I establish regular contact again, I’m told it’s important for me to determine every single reason I’m angry with adopted mom. And that’s something I’ll need to process on my own, because that family isn’t the type to ever admit error. I have to put myself first here, so it will be a while before I’m ready for a full relationship with them again.

"Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go" - Hermann Hesse

In the work front, I’m trying to get in with a clinic that’s an extension of the large hospital. This clinic is closer to my home and caters to underserved populations. Everything about it aligns with my own moral compass. It just seems like a win/win to me, so I keep trying to get them to take me on. I’ve interviewed several times for different positions. I’m not selected in the end, but they do keep having me back. In the beginning, I asked for honest feedback.  I half joked with them last time that I’d have to resort to subliminal messaging to get them to hire me. I think they thought I was literally joking. No. I wasn’t. I spammed them several times within a week. Part of it was following through with my words and the other part was my own frustration and disappointment that I’d been passed up again. The email itself is fairly amusing. I might post it here.

I was contacted by the clinic again last week. They’ll be having me back for another interview. I’m giving them to next week for word before I commence with spamming once again. The emails consist of some random photo of me and what that says about my character. I figure before this is all over, they will give me a job. Or a restraining order. Either way, I will feel as if my work has paid off.

Back to major life events: moving in with Micheal earlier this year. It was an adjustment to come home to someone else every day. He’s always the calm one while I flitter about worrying of some impending apocalyptic doom that’s entirely made up in my head. We learned some ground rules early on. And between my needing space to process and him wanting my presence when I get home, we’ve found an equilibrium. We’ve found a common ground on most things.  There was a day when I felt hungry before I jumped on my bike. As I neared the end of my 15 mile trek home from work I thought I could devour an entire village. We had pizza the night before, so I knew it was waiting for me.

1 slice. There was one damn slice of pizza.

That’s when Micheal learned that I require 2 slices or none at all. Of course, had I not been so hungry I don’t think I would have cared at all. And I laugh about it every time I tell that story because I was still hormonal due to HCG taking a million years to leave my system, under slept and dressed out.

I think what’s important is that we can laugh at ourselves at the end. There are days when I’m temperamental and there are days when he is. We can always come back to one another. That’s a habit we haven’t had to put much work into, and I think that’s because we both wasted too long not being together. There are times when I look at him still and think I’m dreaming; somehow this isn’t my reality. Just last night I thought to myself, “This must be what surrender feels like: perfect and genuine trust.” And when I had that thought, I realized I haven’t genuinely trusted a single person in a very long time. I guess that has to do with my own guards: waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the other person to turn on me, trying to outdraw someone and shoot first. Micheal sees the best in everyone and I see some of his behavior has rubbed off on me. And he deals with the aging and grump basset hound like a pro. He has my heart. I surrender.

There have been so many ups and downs this year that I can’t recall now because I’m too far removed. The gist of most of that is that my work environment is fairly toxic and I’ve found beauty in the smallest of things. Those are the things that help me push forward to another day to face the madness again.

The biggest event of this year was our engagement. I confess, he caught me by surprise and I didn’t see it coming. I had actually set this outing in motion. It just so happened that no one else could come with us with the exception of David and Mary (Micheal’s brother and brother’s fiancé). I’ve always loved the festive lights this time of year. That was probably my favorite part about Christmas when I was a little girl. Several years ago Micheal took me to Peacock Lane. This year he took me to Festival of Lights at The Grotto. It was raining, so he bought me an umbrella on the way. I had wanted to go for some time. In hindsight, he looked at me differently. As I went on and on about the lights, the music, how lovely it all was, he looked on at me and smiled.

Before leaving the lights, we were to stop for a picture together. He asked me to pick a spot. I chose the Christmas tree, which I thought would be perfect for holiday cards. We smiled for the camera while his brother and brother’s fiancé took photos. He then turned to me and said ‘that’s not all’ as he pulled out a small box. True to my character, I was overcome with emotion. I didn’t say yes or no right away. Instead I said, “Are you going to make me vomit?! I’m going to vomit” dozens of times. Of course, the answer was a big fat yes.

Look at that expression! It's genuine joy. As a friend said, "I can't tell if he's just proposed or given you a puppy". 

Since he had planned this out, we were fortunate to have photos. We went through them when we got home. In the first photo taken of us, he’s holding the ring behind my back. I was still clueless when that photo was taken. Everything about that night was perfect, right down to him calming me before we left when I got home right after work because I thought I’d make everyone have to wait on us. The ring is a testament to how much this guy understands me, because I know no one else could have possibly picked out something I love this much.

Just a week or two prior to this, I had finally finished a gift I’d been working on for Micheal. It took me the course of several months. Whether or not he remembers, he gave me the idea. It’s  a soundtrack of our love story, complete with break up songs since this is our third time at this. I picked out songs that told our story from my perspective, tweaking it until I had everything arranged to have the right blow. It wasn’t just the song or the lyrics, but also which version I thought was best. And then I fought with the dang thing even more when I couldn’t figure out how to actually get it onto CD because of some dumb error message I kept getting from the computer I was using. I gave him the files, he burned them onto discs, and then I made them pretty with things I had purchased on Amazon specifically for this gift. We joke that if we have a wedding we’ll make everyone listen to our soundtrack.

As the year comes to an end, I can look back with nothing but gratitude. Gratitude for the blessings and the hardships that resulted in my own growth. Gratitude for the tough decisions I had to make and the learning I still have yet to do. Gratitude for this wonderful human being that has come back into my life for good, one who has shown a patience and tenderness that has not been granted to me for many years. As he’s told me over and over again, he’s got me; he has my back. Indeed you do, Sir. I surrender. 

The Grotto was originally simply a refuge of peace to me. Now it has taken on another meaning. 

“I didn’t fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.” – Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

He's Really Not Into You

“Don’t spend your time on and give your heart to any guy who makes you wonder about anything related to his feelings for you.” – Greg Behrendt, He’s Just Not That Into You

So I’ve been doing the dating thing for a little over a month now. It feels like a freaking full-time job, and an unpleasant and exhausting one at that. I keep telling myself someone will make this all worth it eventually.

I had previously mentioned my involvement with my neighbor and how fond I had grown of him and his little girl. He had been increasingly distant in the weeks that followed that post. I don’t pretend to know why.  Then came the dreaded words: It’s not you, it’s me. Oh. My. God. He refused to offer any other explanation. Ouch. I thought that was a line that was conjured up in middle school when we simply grew tired of the other person and wanted to move on. And the little girl – I’ve seen her once since then, just last night. She was looking for her cat. There wasn’t an excited greeting or hug.  She looked at me like she didn’t even know me. I felt like a dagger had been thrown at the center of my chest. I’ve missed her. I don’t know what her father has told her – I don’t even know if this is a common occurrence in this young girl’s life – I just know that life feels emptier without her.

I suspect this is what he really meant, but was just too cowardly to have a face to face discussion with me.

I’m angry because I feel like my neighbor used her as a pawn to get my attention and I’m hurt because I know she won’t be a part of my life anymore, and I had no choice in the matter. It’s not really him that I was attached to, it was her. I miss the impromptu playdates, dance offs, and bows. I miss her excitement when she saw me come home in the afternoon and the immediate hugs. That’s just not my life anymore.

She literally had my heart the second she put her tiny hand in mine. 

So I move on because I don’t want to waste my energy on crying over it. There’s nothing I can do to change it . . . .  and once the waterworks start they just won’t stop. For now I’m telling myself to be grateful that it happened sooner than later. He showed his true colors and I didn’t become more enmeshed in her life. That would have devastated me.

I’ve moved on to other distractions. I’m still biking on a regular basis. That’s proven to be a good thing for me. I feel invigorated when I get to work and at the end of the day anything that bothered me is gone because I’ve exerted every last ounce of frustrated, angry energy on bike pedaling. I’m getting stronger, too – it’s worth it.

Channel the rage, Lass. It will go away eventually. 

Life has blessed me with some truly wonderful people. I’ve mentioned my tango friend before – the one who encourages me to get out because he knows I have a tendency to draw into myself. While it’s tempting to do that, I know it’s not healthy, and I’m grateful to have the luxury of knowing someone is in my corner and looking out for my best interests.

 Last week my friend convinced me to play volleyball with a handful of other dancers. It’s been a blast. They call it ‘laughter therapy’. That’s an accurate description. I think ‘rage therapy’ works as well. I had no idea that I was so competitive until I started playing with them – and volleyball is something I haven’t done in over a decade. I never have a voice the entire day afterwards because I spend my entire time yelling at my opponents, hurling insults and cursing in general. My only complaint is that I’ve somehow managed to jam my toe two weeks in a row and today in particular it hurts quite a bit . . . . but I work at a hospital, so I’ve got my bases covered. J

We mean business. 

The online dating saga continues. I made up my mind after my experience with my neighbor that I am so done with older men. Seriously. If he’s more than ten years my senior I want absolutely nothing to do with him. Does this prevent older men from contacting me? Absolutely not. I had someone sending me messages in his 50s. Why?! When he asked me to meet him for drinks I asked him what his intentions were and made it openly known that I was not interested in being someone’s plaything. He responded that it was obvious that I have wounds to heal and he does not . . . . Dude, I think the fact that you’re trying to get in the pants of someone less than half your age speaks volumes about your issues.

Sure I have issues. At least I am honest about them and don't deflect mine to the rest of the world.

I’ve met a handful of guys in person. One really was a pleasant surprise. I’m not sure if we’re a good match, but he did not bore me to hell and back like I initially thought he would . . . and I also turned out to not be the stuck up snob he thought I might be. Our conversation went something like this, “You carry weapons? Me, too! Let’s see if we fight to the death!” I exaggerated that a bit. We just had more in common than I thought. I also very much appreciate that he has respected my statement that I need patience. I don’t warm up to people right away. He doesn’t go for a hug unless I offer. Bonus points for you, guy.

I draw a pretty clear line in the sand. Anyone who tries to blur my boundaries gets nixed. Just don't do it!

On the flip side, there’s the touchy feely types and excessively clingy and needy in general. One bragged about his stellar kissing abilities . . . . . and then he tried to lick my damn face off and plunge his tongue down my throat. My face felt like a toilet. I’m also wary of men who claim that we share a strong connection when I sure as hell don’t feel it and men that use pet names like ‘sweet baby’, ‘darling’, ‘sugar’ or anything along those lines without being a close friend makes me feel like throwing punches. It takes me a while to retract my talons and I really have no rhyme or reason as to why that gets under my skin, I only know that it does. Lastly, there was the guy that seemed genuinely surprised that I actually looked like my photos and yet spent the entire time checking out every other female that walked past him. What the hell? 

A walk in the park with the hound. He was pretty much doing this the whole time. He's just not that into you!  He did ask me out to dinner today. I told him I just don't feel a connection - because there obviously isn't one.

On more than one occasion I’ve been asked what I’m looking for. It took me a while to put it in words, but I think it’s something along these lines: I’d like to find someone to share life with, but I don’t want him to be my life – and I don’t want to be his, either. Maybe our paths will blend more as time goes on and we find similar interests and things we enjoy doing together. I don’t want someone to waltz in and completely unhinge my life by taking me away from things that are meaningful to me and try to mold me into something I’m not. He has to adore my dog because I adore my dog. He needs to be patient with me because I have a tendency to be skittish and can feel like a caged animal if he moves too fast for my comfort zone. I need to take my time to get to know him.

I'm also playing for keeps. I'd like to get it right this time.

What amazes me about my stance on dating is that most men are surprised by my answer. It’s as if they’re expecting me to say I’m looking for my soul mate, I am looking for the ‘one’ to make my life complete, yadda, yadda, yadda. Have we become a society of parasite that feed off of one another because we’re so starved for attention and insecure in our own lives? Heavens! That’s why I took a break from dating in the first place. I needed to be comfortable with who I am and where I am in life. I needed to learn to love myself. I needed to learn to quit attracting the wrong kind of person into my life.

There are a couple of men who have caught my eye. I have yet to meet them in person . . . . and I’m really in no rush, either. I’m mostly looking forward to a summer of biking, dancing, volleyball and the hound. These are happy things for me and life feels complete as it is. 

I'll always be evolving, but that doesn't change my sense of fulfillment. 

Warfare

My experience with dating so far has led me to this conclusion: It really all boils down to psychological warfare. Also, people in general are idiots. On any online dating site it’s commonplace to see things written such as “Be real” and “Not into mind games” and “No drama”. Those lines tell me the following: 1. You are probably the biggest phony that ever lived. 2. You are psychologically flawed and must be in control at all times. 3. You obviously have drama in your life or you wouldn’t have mentioned it. You have unresolved issues and are projecting your nonsense into cyber world. And then there’s my all-time personal favorite message I get from time to time, “R u real?” No, dumbass. I actually put effort into a profile for your own amusement and gawking pleasure! (Side note: I do NOT upload revealing photos). There was also that one guy that said something along the lines of, “You’re hot, but I’m not sure about you.” Umm . . . . Thanks. Blocked!!!

There was also an inebriated text sent in the wee hours of the morning. Lord help me. 

Of the few I actually have let into my life at least to some small degree I’ve found myself wondering why he hasn’t called or messaged me in several days. What did I do to irritate him? Was I not forthcoming enough in who I truly am? OMG?! Do I lack the level of self-awareness to truly know myself?! And then I remember that I’m one of the most awesome people ever, go cuddle with the hound and get on with life.

I'd choose this guy any day. 

I think I have a far different take on what a guy is actually saying than what he really means. I didn’t really realize this until I was telling my landlord last night how extremely bored I am by most of these guys. If they can’t match me intellectually or emotionally and are unable to carry a semi-intelligent conversation, why do they bother wasting my time?! My latest irritation came when I met a guy in person who seemed interesting enough. The entire time he talked about his connections with local big names of which I know nothing of because that really doesn’t matter to me and also about all of the money he’s made. Nice enough – it just struck me as full of himself and materialistic. From my landlord’s perspective, this was merely a guy’s way of saying he could take care of me.

Then there's the guy who just can't tear himself away from his phone. When in doubt, spill your drink and run. 

There’s a Huffington Post article that resonates with my own thoughts about how ridiculous this entire process really is. Here are a few of my favorite highlights: 1. Thou shalt never maketh plans to hang out in advance, for thou are casual and disinterested. 2. Thou shalt never compliment thy lover. Speaketh only in condescending words. 3. Thou shalt covet many, many lovers, preferably in the same neighborhood. Thou shalt speak of them often. 4. Thou shalt remember, above all: The lover who cares the least wins: One sentimental ‘thinking of you’ could derail all the progress you’ve made! Go into Code Red Aloof mode. Ignore your babe’s texts for hours-long gaps and reply with one-word answers. In no time, you’ll prove your lack of investment and thus restore the balance of power.

Because winning is more important than anything else, right? 

It’s just insanity – our own struggle for power and to always have the upper hand. Every single time I feel the urge to want to blow someone off I’m starting to question why. Did I feel slighted by him and am turning this into a vendetta to protect my own ego? Why did his failure to contact me irritate me so much and how does this tie into my own issues of abandonment? Why does dating feel like one of the hardest games of tug-of-war I’ve ever played?

What I can say is this: I’m paying close attention to not just how he treats me and those close to him, but also how he treats the average person that might cross his path. If he can’t be kind to a stranger it’s highly unlikely he’ll be kind to me when I need him to be.

This loving of a heart. That's what matters. 

Something else that really gets me is that everyone has advice to give me. Everyone. Seriously. The attitude seems to be that because these people are married and I am not, clearly I have flawed logic and that’s why I’m still single so they have hoards of knowledge to bestow upon me! My personal favorite is the concept of a soul mate. I believed in that once upon a time – now I’m a firm believer that what you put into a relationship is exactly what you’ll get out of it. The idea that there’s one perfect guy out there for me and I only just have to find him for my life to feel complete and make myself whole is nonsense.

I love old and new friends - I just don't need the dating advice. Thanks. 

I’ve had very old friends reconnect with me lately. I love them, I do. The problem with their logic is that they still think they know me as the young teenager who hoped someone would rescue her from her nightmarish life. People change. I learned to save myself. I’ve been told that I come across as guarded. That’s probably true and I don’t see that as a bad thing. Being naïve and trusting didn’t do me any favors. I can still be open to the world without living my life like a bumbling idiot thinking that no one could possibly ever want to harm me or take advantage of me.

My dating woes are the least of my problems lately. My radiator blew on me last week, forcing me to take out whatever funds I had left in my account to fix it. I am officially in pauper status again. The silver lining to this is that while my car is now fixed, it forced me to ride my bike to work like I said I would. I’ve been doing 22 miles a day and royally kicking butt. I’m rather proud of myself for that – and also noted a few truths about myself that I had to admit. 1. I’m extremely competitive. How dare that guy pass me on the road?! I’m going to smoke him! 2. I get road rage on the bike, too. This isn’t just from other cyclists acting like total assholes, but also from cat calls and inappropriate stares. There are times I want to dismount my bike and bash in someone’s car window . . . . But then I remind myself of my awesomeness and carry on. 

I have been described as such . . . .But my main point is this: I am not out there for your personal viewing pleasure. I don't care how marvelous my breasts are. 

Change

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” – Mahatma Gandhi

Life seems to be falling into place. I’ve been wondering how it’s all going to play out. Sure, I’m still stressed out from time to time because I worry about not quite being able to pay a bill on time or something else along those lines that’s really all not that important in the grand scheme of things . . . But we all do that, don’t we?

Yes! While it doesn't solve all of life's problems, it comes pretty damn close.

After coming to the realization that my actions were going against my own moral compass causing a chasm in my connection to the Universe and guilt that nearly broke me, I made a drastic change. Suddenly the world felt less oppressive and scary. I’m standing alone and completely content with where I am in life.

I reconnected with a very old and very dear friend with whom I was very close in high school. Unfortunately, we lost touch over the years. I had lived with family that didn’t want me to have non-Christian friends and then we moved to another city. I’ve thought of her often and my heart jumped for joy when she found me through facebook. I laughed to myself when she asked me if I was still breaking hearts. Me? No freaking way! Her nonjudgmental query as to why there was no significant person in my life got me thinking. Am I ready this time around? Truth be told, I still don’t know for certain.

Uncertain, but blissfully content. 

I’ve been fortunate to have a few stellar males in my life who I trust, who truly understand me,  who have challenged me to be better and who give me their unfailing support . . .  and also tandas (that’s very important). The time spent in reflection during my period of single freedom has granted me a clearer vision of what I want/need in another person. I’ve also had to be honest with myself about how deeply rooted some of my insecurities really are and even come to terms with some of the more petty aspects of my character: I’m extremely afraid of change and need consistency in my life. I have extremely deep attachment issues and need to be reassured that the other person is in my corner.  

Personal issues aside, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not opposed to sharing my life with someone at this point. Merlin and I are perfectly content. We don’t need anyone, but we wouldn’t mind the company. So, with the encouragement of my friends and brother (who insists no one will ever be good enough for me), I started an online dating profile. I admit having that filter to weed out the creepy guys has been a huge relief. Sexually suggestive user name: Blocked. Try to talk to me when you live half way across the country, why the heck are you wasting my time? Blocked.  Asking for my number when you are probably a stalker: Blocked.  Sending me inappropriate photos whether or not a conversation has been initiated: BLOCKED!!!

I'm not involved with match.com . . . . but sometimes I ask myself what the hell I'm doing with this online thing. Is this what my generation has become? 

My very old friend gave me one piece of solid advice that I really needed to hear: No pity dates. She knows me way too well. With that topic in mind I went through the list of men with whom I had been speaking and blocked about half of them. I made tentative plans to actually meet one guy in person. He seemed nice and normal, which seems to be difficult to come by these days. Additionally, he has a disgustingly cute smile.

On a different tangent entirely I realized that I have a few pity friendships. They are draining and offer no enrichment whatsoever to my life. I intend to remedy that soon. Now, back to my tale.

I've grown pretty tired of the emotional vampires and there will be no pity dates or friendships!

The events that followed were something I could have never anticipated. I have a neighbor across the street with an adorable 6-year-old daughter. She and I have had several play dates. She’s confident, she’s fun and she definitely knows what she wants. I’d been spending a lot of time with her. I assumed her and her father pitied the young lady living across the street from them with no washer, dryer, or kitchen to cook in. I particularly had the latter in mind when the young girl’s father asked me over for dinner.

I jokingly refer to my place as my hovel. It's nothing even remotely close to this. I tell people it's like luxury camping or something along those lines.

It soon became clear that my neighbor was definitely interested in me. Not only did he cook for me, but he obviously put a lot of effort into it. We spent the evening playing hide-and-go-seek and the two of them walked me to my front door with a couple of roses he cut for me from his garden. I’ve had many nights like this with them lately. Recently, while the young girl was staying with her mother, I visited her dad. He kissed me when we parted ways after he walked me to my front door. I didn’t stop him.

To set the record straight, I was going for his cheek and he went in for the kill. Still, I didn't stop him.

Who the hell saw that one coming? I sure didn’t. I look forward to seeing them when I get home at the end of the day. I look forward to having dance offs with a 6-year-old girl. I look forward to running around like a maniac because I’m too big to fit into a lot of the really good hiding spots. I even look forward to that exhausted feeling just before going to bed because a tiny human has demanded every second of my attention.

There's also piggy back rides, coloring, dancing, singing and giggling. 

So where’s it going? I don’t know. We've agreed to move slow, particularly for my sake. I don't want another fake fairy tale. I’m still afraid. I have a lot of things running across my mind, but I’ve learned to put them on mute. I can’t consume myself with the ‘What ifs?’ I guess I’m just waiting to see how it all pans out and running with it in the meantime.

"None of us knows what the next change is going to be, what unexpected opportunity is just around the corner, waiting a few months or a few years to change all the tenor of our lives" - Kathleen Norris 

Echo

“We can endure much more than we think we can; all human experience testifies to that. All we need to do is learn not to be afraid of pain. Grit your teeth and let it hurt. Don’t deny it, don’t be overwhelmed by it. It will not last forever. One day, the pain will be gone and you will still be there.” – Harold Kushner, When All You’ve Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough

I have a tendency towards self-loathing. Lately it’s an intensified self-loathing with self-destructive behavior added to the mix. I had a pretty severe wakeup call a little over a week ago when I realized I couldn’t continue to drown out what I was feeling or silence my mind. That is the poorest form of coping.

It’s amazing what occurs on a subconscious level. There’s a disconnect that occurs between the mind, heart and soul. The soul can feel things the mind can’t explain, the heart feels emotions that the mind attempts to drown out.

You are capable, Mind, Body, Soul and Heart. You can align, I know it. 

My therapist told me that we often take the place of our own abuser(s) when the abuser has been removed from our lives. She told me that I needed to crush that aspect of myself. A friend told me recently that I needed a new approach. He told me that instead of trying to drown her out, tell the hurting, afraid little girl that she’s okay and put her back to bed.  That certainly seems like a much more compassionate approach – and this comes from someone who is constantly telling me to be kind to myself, and pushes me to dance tango because it’s a soothing form of therapy.

It's the constant hugging. Who wouldn't feel better after several hours of cuddling with strangers? 

I’ve been blessed to share an office with a truly amazing person. I can often share my thoughts or feelings and she is more than willing to lend a listening ear. She shared with me the story of her dog that had an accident and broke his spine. Exactly a year after his accident he collapsed at the park and was unable to move. He was fine the following day when she took him to the vet. The vet told my co-worker that this is a very common occurrence in animals who have suffered trauma. They sense time differently than we do and don’t have a mind that continues to rationalize our basic instincts, needs and feelings.

Honestly, I think dogs are a small few of living beings that really get it. 

I was sending out a call schedule for medical residents today. I had to double check their G-mail calendar to ensure I had an accurate schedule before sending it out and then I saw the name ‘Patricia Woodring’ listed next week. That’s my grandmother’s name, I thought. There’s someone by that name in the medical program? How odd. Then I realized that it wasn’t there for the medical program, it was something I had put in my calendar last year to remind myself when I felt like I was losing grip on reality that it wasn’t out of sanity, but unprocessed grief.

No, Irish Lass. You are not losing it - your subconscious is just remembering on a cellular, surface level. 

In the months leading up to her death, I lived with whatever relative that would take me in. I wasn’t wanted; I was an obligation that had to be dealt with. Reflecting on the last month and the intensity of my own abuse directed towards me it makes sense. Subconsciously I’m repeating an echo, of an echo, of an echo. To my surprise, I got through the anniversary of my father’s death last year with a grace and ease that were foreign to me. I have no words to explain why I am still struggling with her; I can only speculate. I dreamed of her once. She was on a desolate highway and while her lips were moving she didn't make a sound. 

I've only just begun to ask myself, Why was she here? Why is this where I found her? 

I feel like processing my father’s death came to me a little bit easier because I know he’s still with me. I’ve been with him in other dimensions, other spans of time and he’s found ways to let me know that he’s present even when I can’t feel him. Perhaps it was a part of my psyche that conjured up these experiences to help me work through the emotions of his loss, perhaps I really was with him in spirit somewhere beyond the time and universe that we understand in our own human experience. Either way, this did not happen with my grandmother or I think this is a big factor. I had been far away from her for so long and then she was gone and I felt even more unloved and alone – even though my soul knew the day she was gone. There was a heaviness to the world around me that I couldn’t explain or identify.

He told me he'd been gone for a while. Everything would be okay. 

So now that I’ve recognized history repeating itself, the child that felt (and still feels) alone and unloved, and the woman who struggles to cope with this echo,  I can calm down a little because now I know why I’m consistently trying to drown out my thoughts, particularly my own voice that spews out the harshest form of hatred directly towards me. Of the cruelty that I’ve experienced in this life, my own infliction is by far the worst. I am my own worst enemy.

Truth be told, realizing I am the worst of them all was a tough pill to swallow.

I’ll spend some time with the hurting girl this weekend. She needs to be told it’s okay. She needs to be told she can let go of the guilt over things that she can’t control, know that she is loved, and put back to sleep. 

You're okay. You're safe. You are deeply loved. 

No Apologies

“And high up above or down below

When you’re too in love to let it go

But if you never try you’ll never know

Just what you’re worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you” – Coldplay

I had a panic attack this weekend. That hasn’t happened in a while. Spaniard was with me. He managed to help me snap out of it in a matter of minutes by holding me tight next to him until my breathing matched his. I was embarrassed by my episode. I keep thinking I’m done with these wretched things and am discouraged when it comes back again. I apologized. He looked at me sternly and told me to never apologize. Never!!

As he would say: Fail harder. Don't give excuses for what you're not doing and never apologize.

He then reminded me that while I may not like it, every event in my life up to this point has become a part of my essence. He told me I’m wonderful even though I choose not to see it. All of these events are linked to me and always will be; that’s just the way it is. When a memory surfaces, when I’m gripped with fear, when I’m drowning in my own feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness, I need to acknowledge those aspects of myself and dismiss them because I’m done with them now. I’m safe. I am loved. – Book of Spaniard.

Whatever happened happened. I can't change it and I can't keep wishing it away, either. It exists. Embrace it. Dismiss it. Move on.

Spaniard reads me well. I do not like it – and I’m quite certain I don’t like it because he challenges me. He pushes me because he says I can do better, I can achieve more and I can be stronger. He tells me to maintain eye contact with him. He's right and I hate it. I’ve always felt uncomfortable with this because I feel like whoever is on the receiving end of my gaze can see right through me. It makes me vulnerable. I guess I can’t hold up a façade forever. I can’t berate myself forever, either. I truly am my own worst enemy. Spaniard told me to stop honing in on the things that I think are wrong with me and focus on what I like about myself. Also, there is nothing wrong with me. – Book of Spaniard. I can't keep trying to cover my eyes and I need to let myself live. I can't achieve that if I'm consistently trying to blind myself. 

"All the powers in the universe are already ours. it is we who have put our hands before our eyes and cry that it is dark." - Swami Vivekananda

While I spend the rest of my week forcing myself to stare into my own reflection, I’m making a point of looking for the good qualities and strengths. I’m going to remind myself that the good and bad have formed me – and I am unique and wonderful. For the record, I grimaced when I typed that last sentence. This isn’t going to be easy. 

I. Hate. This!!! It just makes me cry - but I know he's right. 

As he’s reminded me that these demons I carry with me are a part of me and will come back from time to time, I need to care for myself while I work through it. Self-care has never been my forte. I’ve been saying for months that I’m going to take a weekend off and ignore the rest of the world. Has it happened? No. There’s always a crisis in someone’s life or something that requires my presence. I’m quite certain my family is the most demanding . . . My next move will be out of the mother f-ing country! At least I managed to start dancing again last week. As I’m settling in and getting back to some form of a routine, I can start to slowly incorporate the things that I value back into my life. I’ll take my break from the world eventually. In the meantime, I have a friend who will remind (or force) me to go back to the things that I love and to always give it my best shot. 

- Book of Spaniard