These Boots Are Made For Walking

“Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.” – Rumi

I’ve been working on my own emotional well-being lately. It’s hard to move past resentment when people keep adding to it. Rather than shroud my thoughts with a mask of vague statements I’ll speak as plainly as possible. My family has a knack for nagging or guilting me into doing things . . . this time around it has to do with visiting my mother who is recovering from a back surgery. I can’t stand much to be around her, there’s too much bad blood between us and there’s been more than one occasion in which I’ve wanted to throw up my hands and ask why we even bother with this charade anymore. She wants the privilege of saying she has a daughter, but she doesn’t really want a daughter. I simply want to be as far removed from the situation as possible and they want to pull me back in. Why?!

On a side note, I'm off of medications entirely. I only managed to do that when I was finally out of that house. She hasn't made the connection between the two yet. 

You've managed to free yourself of the burden of me. You can quit exuding a forced maternal-like instinct.

When I’m frustrated with the double standards, mixed messages and feeling of never being good enough, I remind myself that there was a time in my life when I was loved unconditionally. I try to remember their faces, their voices, what it felt like to have that solid foundation of patience and understanding and tell myself that they’re still with me, even if I don’t always feel at one with the Universe. They’re in my DNA – they pulse through my veins and perhaps I’m with them now in some other dimension in time.

" . . . and death was his road to awe." I'll see you in the next life if not again in this one.

Aside from the hound (that goes without saying, really), I put myself first. When it comes to friendships, activities and this amusing process of dating I refuse to be around someone who is a vortex of anger, negativity and resentment. This is not the outlook in life I want. It’s not that I’ve never had my moments, because I have. I just choose not to live in those moments . . . forever. I’ve set high standards for myself and I fully intend to stick to them. In hindsight, this has led to some amusing scenarios.

Meet my online dating inbox. 

If a guy says he’s going to call and doesn’t that’s it. Seriously. I’ve had a few try to contact me after pulling something like that and I let my silence speak for me. I refuse to put up with that kind of nonsense. I refuse to put up with degrading behavior.  I was out for sushi with someone and he couldn’t take his eyes off my chest. I get it. I have boobs. They’re pretty amazing . . . . but there’s more to me than that. Thanks for the seaweed salad, guy. I won’t miss you.

Something like that. 

I met someone for coffee over the weekend. His nervousness made me feel badly for him; he was visibly shaky. I told him lets skip coffee and have a glass of wine at my place instead. He calmed down a little and started to open up a bit after my constant reassurance that this isn’t a competition and I’d really like to know who he is as a human being, not how much money he makes or the amount of success he’s had in life. He had potential . . . . and then he corrected a grammatical typo on one of my text messages last night. Alright Mr. Grammar Nazi, meet my Doc Marten boots. I will gladly take out my boots for the men that insist that I operate around their schedule to meet them in person (no thank you), the men who feel the need to point out my inferiorities to feel better about themselves, the flaky men, the untruthful men and also the ones who can’t quite manage to pull their gaze away from my cleavage . . . My boots are ready, gentlemen!

Actually . . . it was Autocorrect's fault. 

I’ve had only a couple of people tell me I’m being too picky. I very much disagree with that statement. I just have standards and I refuse to compromise. There’s nothing wrong with seeing my own value. Also, it took me a long time to see my worth in this life. I’ll be holding onto that rather than letting some random idiot wreck it completely just because someone thinks I should be in a relationship and am *still* single because I’m just plain too picky. I think those people should meet my boots as well. While I’m on a roll, I think my faux maternal figure can meet my Doc Martens, too. There. I said it. I feel better. 

Obviously not my Doc Martens . . . . . but I'm really crushing on these boots right now. 

"I was dead, then alive. Weeping, then laughing. The power of love came into me, and I became fierce like a lion, then tender like the evening star." - Rumi

Dead Weight and Apathy

“People tend to complicate their own lives, as if living weren’t already complicated enough.” – Carlos Ruiz Zafon, The Shadow of the Wind

I wrote an e-mail today I dreaded doing, but ultimately had to look out for my own well-being because that’s really what’s important right now. I won’t go into the details here because mention of them may cause hurt feelings and that’s not what I’m about. The important thing is that person is being faded out of my life at least for a time being. When I’m feeling more grounded perhaps I can take on the rest of the world’s problems – but now is not the time. My days are spent with very sick people who are facing death. They are afraid. They are in pain and they need someone to give them patience, understanding, and a smile. That’s where my good energy needs to go. At the end of the day/week, I need to be around others who are going to uplift me instead of pulling me into their own vortex of anger and bitterness. For now, with this person, I’m closing the chapter.

I’ve closed the chapter on a few others as well. I can at least give myself credit for recognizing influences that are toxic in my life. Most I’ve cut out completely and others I’ve struggled with a bit more. I know I’ve rambled on and on in previous posts regarding my delicate relationship with my adopted mother. She’s in the hospital again. I find myself extremely apathetic regarding the whole thing. What’s eating at me is that I’m telling myself that I should be concerned that she’s still in recovery. I should care about this woman. I’m sure I do deep down somewhere, that’s just not what’s on the surface right now and I’ve decided I’m going to stop telling myself how I should be feeling and just ride out the apathy. This will pass eventually, I just need to honor that I need time to sift through years of bullsh*t and work through it; it's another form of dead weight that needs to go. 

I'm ready to fly - I just have to teach myself to cut the cord. 

In the meantime, I keep making mental notes to myself of actual notes I need to write to people. Nothing major, just simple ones to let these random people I encounter on a daily basis know that they make my day. I do make an effort to hand write notes on a semi-regular basis to my childhood babysitter.  She practically raised me and I love her. She was my grandmother’s best friend and so much about her embodies all of the experiences in life that are dear to me. There’s also the lovely woman who works at the bike valet station. She’s mute (Why have I not learned to sign?!). She needs to know that smile is lovely and I look forward to seeing her every day. There’s the boisterous, kind and hilarious woman who works in the cafeteria. There’s the kind chef who asks me about my day and is genuinely interested in my answer. These are people that deserve my energy. These are people that deserve to know they make someone’s day because they exist.

The people I encounter now, the women who looked out for me in the past - they need to know they have made a difference to someone. 

My point in all of this is that I am cutting out the negative to make room for the good, positive and fulfilling things in life. I’ve been saying I’m going to do it forever and a day, but have been skipping around the issue for as long as humanly possible. It’s ridiculous. My time is now. I’m taking it.

Dating is still foreign to me. Like my approach to most things in life lately, I’m doing my best to go with it and not overanalyze to the point that I drive myself to some form of mania. There haven’t been many second dates. There haven’t been many first dates, either. What I have noticed is that I am gravitating towards men who are in the military or have a military background . . . . and I never even knew that was some sort of preference of mine until this adventure started.

I’ve had a few dates with one person in particular. I’ve mentioned him before, and I still haven’t thought of another name to call him for the purpose of this blog. I feel at ease with him. He’s made a point of respecting me when I tell him I need time to warm up to him – don’t cross my boundaries because it will send me either running or flying into a rage – maybe even both, who knows? The other night was the first time he touched me without my own initiation of a hug. He ran his fingers on my arm, nothing more. He hasn’t pressured me into anything more and I don’t have the words to describe what a relief that is. He also doesn’t make me go out of my way to see him, either. He comes to my side of town, offers to pick me up if we go out somewhere . . . chivalry isn’t dead. On some levels he understands me. He’s been upfront about his major life f*ck ups as have I. I’m still not sure; I have my reservations about him and I also have all the time in the world to figure it out.

Whatever the outcome, his willingness to let me approach him at my own pace has already left a lasting impression on me. 

So here are my concerns about him: we seem to have no common interests at all. Seriously, it’s like there’s nothing. We do have a good time when we’re together, so there must be something I’m just not seeing yet. On the same note, everyone puts their best foot forward in the beginning, so I’ll re-evaluate this a few months down the road. Additionally, he has an uncanny ability to compartmentalize his life. I guess that comes with being in a specialized Army discipline. While that’s a pretty wicked skill to possess, it worries me a little bit. It worries me because I know someone with that ability, and that person (no longer a welcome presence in my life) is possibly the most toxic, psychological mind f*ck that has ever crossed my path. The person no longer in my life also has a military background. He’s lived with his long-term girlfriend and has many women on the side in many different countries. I guess there’s this nagging (probably irrational fear) that my life will be that of the long-term girlfriend in 20 years . . . ignorant of the intentions, affections and actions of my lover. It’s funny how an attribute of one person who rubbed you the wrong way can cause such an irrational chain of thoughts. I keep reminding myself that they are not the same person. Not even close.

His ability to compartmentalize shouldn't be so worrisome to me. That's another to add to the list of works in progress for the Irish Lass. 

There’s a guy that I’ve been talking to quite a bit who has the name of a comic book hero. I won’t tell you which one. I’ll just call him Clark Kent. He’s in the Army Reserve and we have yet to meet in person. He understands me on a level that a lot of other people don’t as well, but entirely different from the other fellow that I actually have met in person. Sometimes Mr. Kent wishes me goodnight, but his way of doing so is by saying, “happy hunting”. That probably isn’t something anyone else reading this would understand, but it speaks volumes to me. We share a spiritual connection; and that’s an aspect of who I am that Mr. Kent truly understands. On the same note, when we finally meet in person we could decide that we’re enemies and fight to the death. Who knows? I have all the time in the world to figure it out.

While Mr. Kent is away in training he sends me photos throughout the day of him in uniform and it makes me squeal like a little schoolgirl. Lord help me.

Apparently I've had a 'type' this entire time and have only just now noticed it. 

I’m being careful to not judge myself as well just because I’m taking a different approach this time around. I found myself worried the other day about hurt feelings, breaking hearts, unintentionally leading someone on, etc. and I had to tell myself this: No one has made promises or commitments here. What the hell am I worried about? The answer is nothing. I am worried about nothing. I’ll keep approaching this part of life at a snail’s pace. It makes me happier that way. I think my next step is to figure out what type of connection with another person I want in life. At least I think that’s where I go from here. I’m still figuring it out. 

I intend to change many

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 

True Character

“Character is doing the right then when nobody’s looking. There are too many people who think that the only thing that’s right is to get by, and the only thing that’s wrong is to get caught.” – J.C. Watts

Someone told me once that there’s always one; and by that she meant that one person who doesn’t quite fit in the office dynamics and causes chaos and drama wherever he or she sets foot. I have one. I’ve known her true nature for some time now: someone who takes jabs at you when her superiors aren’t looking and then smiles and laughs it off as if to say, Who cares what I just said?! Listen to my cute laugh. How could you possibly be angry? Not only the jabs, but not a very approachable person, either. If she has offended you, one cannot simply approach her to discuss the matter because her feelings are the only feelings that matter and f*ck you for ever thinking differently.  

As I’ve known this about her, I’ve vented once to my manager because I was on the verge of ripping her condescending head from her condescending throat. Lately the infection of her smugness and sense of self-righteousness has been spreading as she causes one more dramatic event after another. I was very frustrated at first because I’ve always been good at connecting with and understanding people. She has always been an enigma to me. However, I now see that the problem was never me to begin with and I’m simply watching the circus act unfold on the sidelines. I guess the moral of this story is don’t try pretend to be something you’re not because your true colors show eventually and there’s no way to get around that.

On the topic of people that confuse me, I’ve crossed paths with several lately. One is my landlord’s soon to be 14-year-old daughter. I wanted to do everything I could for her – but quite honestly I don’t know what I can do. The poor thing is a hot mess and I had no idea teenagers could be so . . . devious. I was never that way and I guess that’s why I don’t understand. I think sometimes you just have to throw your hands up and be done with it. My intentions were genuine and good, but I realized early on that nothing good would come from my befriending this young lady because she hasn’t been honest with me and has tried to take advantage of my good nature. You’re too young for this kind of behavior!!! That’s all I can say about it.

I think sometimes a person needs to recognize when there are toxic sources in their life and cut those people out. No, it’s not easy. Sometimes you’ve known these people for what seems like a lifetime and even though you care for them, their presence has done more harm than good.  Sometimes you desperately want to help them and see them thrive in life, but know deep down there’s nothing you can do. I had to dismiss someone from my life recently. Even though he had helped me in countless ways, ultimately his presence did more harm than good and once he was gone I slowly began to feel better and suddenly life felt easier, despite how stressful life feels from time to time.

"Toxic people will pollute everything around them. Don't hesitate. Fumigate." - Mandy Hale

I stumbled across an article recently that described ‘hipster’ food and I nearly panicked when I thought, Dear God! I’m slowly turning into one of them! Kale: check. Kombucha: check. Mason jars: check . . . . I could keep going, but I’m still in a state of denial. In my defense, I have never enjoyed PBR and think that anyone who actually likes is a hipster indeed and also a fan of camel piss - because that’s what it tastes like.

My transformation isn't fully complete because I'm not here yet. 

While in this state of denial I’ve also joined the cycling community of Portland – and by joining I mean that I’ve done it once so far. In fact, it was just yesterday. The ride in wasn’t too bad. It’s 11 miles one way because I live so much farther away from work now. I know that not many of the devoted commuters where I work do more than 5 miles round trip. Why? Because they obviously make more and can afford to live closer. So, 22 mile round trip on my first try. Crazy? You bet. It’s gets crazier. Things were going smoothly on my way back home until I got about half way there, and then all hell broke loose.

I thought I had a genius idea by using the navigation app on my phone with the bicycle setting because I haven’t explored Portland enough to really know what I’m doing and rely too heavily on my navigation smart phone app. The phone outsmarted me because the damn thing started freaking out just as I was getting to mid SE Portland. It had me going in circles and instructed me to cut through Mt. Tabor park before I turned it off and said I’m SO done with you, Smart Phone! I thought for sure I’d died and awoken to the worst form of hell because all I could think about was getting back to my hound because he was probably lonely and hungry.

I just wanted to get back to my Sweet Boy. 

After dragging my bicycle up a very steep path at Mt. Tabor Park, coming out the other side and finally stumbling across another human being I desperately asked them to please point me in the direction in which street numbers start getting bigger. I kept following that direction until I found a familiar rode and made it home. That trip should have taken me an hour – instead it took me three. So, what should have been a 22 mile round trip was an easy 40 wrought with steep hills and foot baths in a freaking nature park. Why? WHY have I never learned a sense of direction?! Irish Lass-0, Smartphone-1.

That seems to be the general attitude among the regular cyclists. I refuse to conform to smugness. Quit talking to me with your eyes closed! 

For the record, the Irish Lass is tenacious and I’ll be back at it again in no time. While I’d love to take a ride out this weekend with ample time to figure it out, I have too many commitments, again . . . . Big Surprise! It looks like there’s absolutely nothing next weekend, so I’m going to take one of those ‘I don’t care who you are or what you need’ stances I keep saying I’d like to do and do whatever the hell I want in my beautifully accumulated free time.

Actually . . . can I go here instead of biking? This would really be better for my health. 

I’m hoping I can handle tango tonight. I decided yoga was a good idea yesterday before I made a ride home that took me a million hours. I’m sore all over and have come to the conclusion that I have two very important requirements for a significant other: big hands to massage my shoulders and a hot tub. Of course, there are other requirements, but those two are now mandatory. 

REQUIRED!! In the meantime I have my muscle rub. 

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.