So, anyway then, you are in conversation or otherwise involved with someone and he is being a jerk and you just play nice in order to get through it and then later on you sort of regret being a nice person about the whole thing. You know, like you wish that you had defended yourself better or said something about how you felt and now that it is over you are feeling stupid and defenseless and all that.
It is not as though you can go back in time and get a do over, but how do you handle those feelings of being a loser doormat?
This is the second time in as many weeks as this sort of thing has happened to me and I have to wonder what it is in the way that I am manifesting in the world that invites these experiences into my life. At any rate, I am the common denominator in both of these circumstances and I have to admit to feeling that I am tired of being nice to people who are not nice to me.
I pose this only because the second of those circumstances happened this morning with the train people, who made a mess of my travel plans, waited two weeks to inform me and then wanted me to pay more money for a two-day shorter trip because the fares had increased in price. When I questioned the fairness of that they replied that their mess up really was not their fault, which is insane because it totally is their fault, nor was the price increase. When I said that it really was not my fault either, I suddenly became a difficult customer. And, once again, I have to wonder why the screw-up of someone else is an invitation for me to bend over and just take it.
Frankly, I am weary of always being the person to take the high road and, in this case, offer myself up to highway/rail robbery. I think that I am going to have to begin standing up for myself, and I absolutely know that it is going to make for some difficult situations with people who are accustomed to having me do what they want without comment, much less any protest.
I wonder if this is part of the growth that is supposed to be happening in my life. If that is so, I am not happy about being the boat rocker, nor am I thrilled about fussing with people about things for which I have kept silent and compliant. It is so much easier to simply go along with what someone else wants. I foretell many upset tummies in my future. I just do not want to be the goes with everything girl anymore. Just do not.
And, you know, the worst part of today is that when the conversations with the train people were finished, all I could think about was all of the things, the non-supportive of their feelings things, that I should have said in support of myself. Even though I ended up with a less than complete credit for the shredded and missing parts of the original trip, the whole experience was so distressing and exhausting that I think I am satisfied with what I did manage to get. But, this is the first time that I have felt such regret about being nice, and that upsets me more than any of the other stuff. I mean, how messed up is that, that you have to feel guilty and upset about being nice? No, maybe the worst part is that I seem unable to stop obsessing about it. Where the hell is that coming from? I am always able to acknowledge things, wallow in them a bit and let them go, but not this time.
See? There it is. I cannot stop writing about it. Hopeless, just hopeless. Just because I am a pacifist, well, that does not mean that I have to be a doormat. Someone has to have the answers to this.
Alrighty, just one more thing. This is not about me and is unrelated to today's issue, but it is connected.
A few of my friends and I have a mutual friend. This mutual friend suffers with a mental illness, one along the schizophrenia spectrum, and another person (A) in this group of friends is always supportive of the manic and dissociative states the other friend (B) experiences, often to the detriment of A. B takes up large portions of A's life and A suffers for it. We all suffer along with B, but A takes the brunt and burden of it.
So, anyway, B disappeared for a week, and then another, and then two more. No one could find B, or find anyone who knew where he was.
Then, last week B's sister called A and told him that B has been a patient at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota and that he, B, had admitted himself for some undisclosed ailment and that it was determined that A was making B's schizophrenia worse by allowing B to talk about anything he liked. What? Who? How? No answers from anyone. This was followed, this week, by a telephone call from B that his hallucinations have increased, but that his diabetes has been cured. And, seriously, I do not know what any of that means, but is certainly is interesting. Then B showed up at the gallery (that A manages and where I help), with a whole bunch of books and artwork that he needs us to save for him, including a weird piece that combines some of A's poetry from twenty years ago (clipped from those old magazines and pasted in the style of a ransom note) with some disturbing photo-montage images. A further enmeshing of creepiness. Even now, three days later, it still makes me shudder a bit.
Granted, this is a greater and more dramatic and life-concerning situation than a train company that fucks up your vacation plans, and in the whole big picture thing, well, they simply do not compare, but they are connected. If anyone is still with me, the connection is one of allowing the needs of someone else to determine the parameters of your own life. When does genuine helping cross the line into futile rescue. Helping someone is fine, great, even noble and inspiring, but rescuing benefits no one, not the rescued or the rescuer, at least not past those few golden moments following the actual rescue.
When and how do we express that enough is enough? How do we know when to help and when to run from the needs of the people who are important to us? How do we decide when, where and how to be the peacemakers? How do we know when to take current bad (or unfortunate) treatment and defer to the ultimate good for some future and undetermined date or time? When do we permit the best self-interests of someone else to take precedent over our own best self-interest? There is no primer for this, no guidebook, no established protocol for un-enmeshing one's self from unhealthy relationships, un-supportive work environments or anyone else in the world who will mess around with you and not take their own share of the responsibility.
I am tired, hungry, really tired, weary of all of this and my broken bones are aching, but perhaps this sort of pondering is best expressed in these wee hours when the rest of our own world is asleep and quiescent and not up and about bedeviling us. Even so, I still want to know about how to live without these regrets.
And, that whole not taking personal responsibility stuff bugs the heck out of me, but that is separate issue.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
When did no stop meaning no
Really. When did that happen? I would like to understand why a simple 'no' began to mean something like I am only kidding or do not take my protestations to leave me alone seriously or just completely ignore me and do whatever you like.
I really would like to know.
This is completely unrelated, but my train trip company totally messed up and my trip is compromised, and not in a good way. Even so, I still said yes to the shreds that remain and I am going to have a wonderful time because I can decide to be a big girl and suck it all up.
I really would like to know.
This is completely unrelated, but my train trip company totally messed up and my trip is compromised, and not in a good way. Even so, I still said yes to the shreds that remain and I am going to have a wonderful time because I can decide to be a big girl and suck it all up.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Toes
So, anyway, there I was, buzzing around the house, cleaning and moving crap and making nice. Making progress, too. Then the old knee gave out and I staggered and self-corrected and over-corrected and jammed my foot into the corner of the wall. Little toe went south and stuck there for a moment and, gosh, no pain and I am thinking, well, that was weird. Then, the nerves woke up and I was feeling icky and sore and stupid for the rest of the day.
Next day, no pain. Go figure.
Day after that it hurt like hell. A couple of days of that and you know exactly where I went for my diagnosis. You got it, the Internet. Granted, my first go-to source for all things medical is the Mayonnaise Clinic. Two toes felt broken and they told me to tape them together and to the next toe and that would keep them straight for optimal healing. Like hell. That is what it felt like, pure hell. Aw, heck.
Alrighty, then, no taping. The next step is to try not to flex the afflicted toes and/or foot and that is what I tried to do. But, seriously, unless you can stay home, sit, keep your foot elevated and allow the half-dressed dancing boys cater to your every whim, what is the point? I mean, you can do it for a few days, but as a lifestyle choice it simply does not work.
So, I have spent the past two and a half weeks, or nearly so, hobbling around in pain that marginally increased every single damn day. Hard to believe now, but the Internet is just a big, fat fail sometimes (did I write that out loud?) and I was forced to resort to making an appointment with my doctor.
Good thing. I have a nicely healing toe, one that has a nice clean, but seriously displaced break and some damage to other bones in my foot that are not serious. Anyway, none of it is terminal and it should be nicely or practically healed by the time I need to take the night train to the hole in the ground. Kind of cool x-rays and whilst I was there, we did all kinds of blood work and it was fine and it finished with this hard, flat shoe thing that is not a shoe, but is like a blue and white Birkenstock on steroids, which is also sort of weird because Birks are already steroid-ish. I know, I have a pair although I am not exactly sure where they are. There is a padding and bandage wrapping thing that goes along with it, and I plan to simplify that tomorrow, or at least by the weekend. It will be pretty or cute or weird or pretty weird and I will show it to you.
If I can find my camera.
Oh, if you are a fan of horror films of the optimal gore kind, borrow Daybreakers from the library. It is cool and juicy and it has Ethan Hawke (O.K.), Sam Neill (yummier) and Willem Dafore (totally worth eating with a spoon). Pretty decent storyline, too.
Juicy gore not your style? Well, the film version of Cormac McCarthy's The Road is just as wonderful, just as perfectly perfect and life affirming as was the book, which I have read and re-read and will continue to do so on a yearly basis because if this book does not help you to maintain your faith in humanity, nothing will.
Next day, no pain. Go figure.
Day after that it hurt like hell. A couple of days of that and you know exactly where I went for my diagnosis. You got it, the Internet. Granted, my first go-to source for all things medical is the Mayonnaise Clinic. Two toes felt broken and they told me to tape them together and to the next toe and that would keep them straight for optimal healing. Like hell. That is what it felt like, pure hell. Aw, heck.
Alrighty, then, no taping. The next step is to try not to flex the afflicted toes and/or foot and that is what I tried to do. But, seriously, unless you can stay home, sit, keep your foot elevated and allow the half-dressed dancing boys cater to your every whim, what is the point? I mean, you can do it for a few days, but as a lifestyle choice it simply does not work.
So, I have spent the past two and a half weeks, or nearly so, hobbling around in pain that marginally increased every single damn day. Hard to believe now, but the Internet is just a big, fat fail sometimes (did I write that out loud?) and I was forced to resort to making an appointment with my doctor.
Good thing. I have a nicely healing toe, one that has a nice clean, but seriously displaced break and some damage to other bones in my foot that are not serious. Anyway, none of it is terminal and it should be nicely or practically healed by the time I need to take the night train to the hole in the ground. Kind of cool x-rays and whilst I was there, we did all kinds of blood work and it was fine and it finished with this hard, flat shoe thing that is not a shoe, but is like a blue and white Birkenstock on steroids, which is also sort of weird because Birks are already steroid-ish. I know, I have a pair although I am not exactly sure where they are. There is a padding and bandage wrapping thing that goes along with it, and I plan to simplify that tomorrow, or at least by the weekend. It will be pretty or cute or weird or pretty weird and I will show it to you.
If I can find my camera.
Oh, if you are a fan of horror films of the optimal gore kind, borrow Daybreakers from the library. It is cool and juicy and it has Ethan Hawke (O.K.), Sam Neill (yummier) and Willem Dafore (totally worth eating with a spoon). Pretty decent storyline, too.
Juicy gore not your style? Well, the film version of Cormac McCarthy's The Road is just as wonderful, just as perfectly perfect and life affirming as was the book, which I have read and re-read and will continue to do so on a yearly basis because if this book does not help you to maintain your faith in humanity, nothing will.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
S'kay
So, I'm like at work and like working and my first client canceled yesterday so I had like this whole hour and a half to catch up on like all the stuff that I just never, ever, ever get to because I am usually like so busy and this guy shows up and asks to like talk to me and I say like, well, OK.
Then he starts to talk and tells me that, you know, he is the new guy doing that thing that, you know, like was supposed to be my job and all that stuff about how they like picked my stupid brain and like conned me into teaching some of them how I do, you know, like what I do and here he is, like arriving unannounced and everything and like expecting me to just drop everything because he is like the new guy and he wants me to take a few minutes and like teach him everything I know about what I do, 'cuz like he is really, really busy and doesn't have like all that much time, what with his new job and everything.
S'kay, so I like look at him like what the heck Jack and he says like well, can we do this now? And I like say to him, ummmm...like I'm really sorry, but I have a client coming in a few minutes and all that and he says, well what time is he getting here and I'm like all, hey dude, like the guy will get here when he gets here and the guy says, well, can't we just sit down and do it now? And, I'm like all nooooo, I can't because the client is coming in and I'm like preparing and all that and he leans over and looks at my computer screens, and oh, yeah, I have two computers, like this older PC and a new laptop, or at least new from last year and I'm like, in my head, saying ummmm, hey dude put your eyes back in your head and like mind your own business, you dweeb.
It is like so clear that this guy is like totally out of his element and I'm like oh, fine, take a bit of mercy on the guy and try to help him out even though he is like totally being an asshole with the whole rude and pushy thing and so I like say to him well, like I'm really busy here on Wednesdays and if you like you can make an appointment for next week or the week after if like next week is already filled up or something, which I am not sure because the front people take appointment stuff for me and like it is cool because I don't have to play like phone tag with people and all that.
Oh god and then he says like well, can't I just sit in when your client like gets here and that should be enough for me to like figure out what you do here and I'm like all so sorry, but like I do my best to like protect my clients' privacy and all that, so, I'm so sorry, but I can't do that and really like it would take probably like a few weeks of every day one-on-one time with someone to give them the tools they need to like do what I do. Stupid you-know-what. Although I don't like say any of that last stuff, OK?
And, then, get this, he like says well, what do you have free for the rest of this week and I'm like seriously staring at his stupidity and rudeness but I'm like holding it all together and staying like professional and all that and I say in my sweet voice that sounds genuinely sweet to people who like don't really know me very well and I say like I'm so sorry, but the rest of my week is like all filled up. And like he's all insulted because even though he thinks that I'm being all sweet when I'm really thinking what the fuck and so I say that even though I can't help you right now and in my head I'm thinking yeah, dude, please fucking excuse me for not dropping everything and bending over so that you can like have your way with me.
Oh, s'kay, so then I ask him what they already like have to help their clients and he says ummm, like nothing and I'm all like well, didn't you guys get your grant and the money and the computers and all that and he goes like ummmm, no we just have a couple of computers but we're like hoping to get more and I say like you really don't have anything yet and he's like ummmm, yeah.
So, like, you know, I can tell that this is going nowhere like fast and I like tell him that there is another resource in town that would be able to help him learn how to do something like what I do, like it is sort of the same but like really different but it would at least like get them started because I know that they are supposed to begin the service on like Monday and all that. So I tell him what the resource is and he like goes all apeshit on me, on his inside, but I can see it leaking out of him like warm syrup and I repeat that they are a great resource but I don't tell him like that I am constantly fixing the stuff that people get from them and like that is at least a quarter of the work that I like do for my clients.
So, then he's just like standing there and I like take his hand and shake it and he's like what the hell like he never shook anyone's hand before and like he probably never did because he's like rude dude and all that.
So, then he's like gone and I'm all sort of offended and sort of pissed and like that because this is like the third time that these people have like rained on my parade and I'm also starting to feel just plain bad about the whole thing and then like the director of the place I work walks by and she's like really busy like she usually is but I ask her for a moment and I like tell her everything that happened and I'm like all apologizing for being such a selfish bitchzilla and she's like hey, those guys are trying to take advantage of you and like you should not feel bad about it, girlfriend.
And, I'm like all happy dancing in the streets because I'm not a bitchzilla, just a poor girl trying to like do her best and all that and I go back to my desk and like work some more because the client still hasn't shown up and all that.
S'kay so then I start to shame spiral and am feeling all like totally and sadly wonked out about rude dude because he clearly does not have like any clues about professional behavior much less any concept of like courtesy but I'm like feeling like I should be helping these poor guys and I look up the contact phone number in the on-line newspaper and like write it down and go find a phone where I was going to call and apologize or something stupid like that. So, you can totally imagine my surprise when the head guy answers the phone and I tell him what happened and like what the guy said and did and what I said and did and he's like oh, I'm so sorry and I'll like talk to him and I'm like cool.
So then he starts talking about how like cool I was when I talked to him all that time ago before they got the grant and how like helpful I was and how like grateful he was that I had given him like a whole hour and I didn't even remember that we talked for that long because I'm like so into what I do and I get so excited about sharing the process with like anyone who will listen, you know?
And I'm like sharing how impossible it is to teach someone to do what I do in like just an hour or even like ten hours and I ask what software they are using on their grant provided computers and he's like, ummm, well, we don't have any software and I'm like, dude, what were you planning to do with the people who come to you and he's like well, we have this one volunteer who maybe like knows how to handle herself and this other volunteer who like has never volunteered for anything before and I'm like going whoa in my head but saying stuff like oh and oh dear and oh my.
Then, so there's this silence which is complete and utter silence on his end of the phone line and like filled with gear grinding noises and steam engines chugging and stuff like sliding around and shifting from one level to another in my head on my end of the line. And then I like say, ummmm dude would you like some help and he like says oh man that would be like super great and divine and I would love you forever and have your babies if you would like help us out here because we're like drowning in despair and all that. Or like close to that.
S'kay so then anyway I like say to him, dude, let me put down the phone now and I can't put you on hold because this phone is way too like complicated and how the hell does anyone here know how to work the damn thing and he's like oh my precious, I will wait until the end of time for you and I like put down the phone and go over to my computer and look up the url of the software company that they should have like already known about because every damn person is using this stuff, even the resource that I like gave to rude dude and I come back and I give him the url and how to use the site and tell him that when they get the software I'll like come over and teach everyone how to like use it and give them some worksheets that they can like use to help the people who will be coming there and all that and he's like already worshiping me like the goddess I am and I'm all like it's OK dude, just get over it.
So then I go to find my director to tell her that I like caved and called the head guy and that I directed him to like buy the right stuff and that I'm going to help them and she's like oh, babe, you're not exactly stupid for like helping these morons but they don't deserve it and all that. Then she says like how could they just come over here and like think that they could use you like a public teeter-totter and then just like walk away and how would they like it if you like went to them and said like hey, I like what you do so why don't you just sit down with me for like an hour and teach me everything and I realized that her royalocity of one of the reasons that I like working here so much and I'm like right on sister and I went back to my desk and got back to work and all that.
So, like that was my day.
Then he starts to talk and tells me that, you know, he is the new guy doing that thing that, you know, like was supposed to be my job and all that stuff about how they like picked my stupid brain and like conned me into teaching some of them how I do, you know, like what I do and here he is, like arriving unannounced and everything and like expecting me to just drop everything because he is like the new guy and he wants me to take a few minutes and like teach him everything I know about what I do, 'cuz like he is really, really busy and doesn't have like all that much time, what with his new job and everything.
S'kay, so I like look at him like what the heck Jack and he says like well, can we do this now? And I like say to him, ummmm...like I'm really sorry, but I have a client coming in a few minutes and all that and he says, well what time is he getting here and I'm like all, hey dude, like the guy will get here when he gets here and the guy says, well, can't we just sit down and do it now? And, I'm like all nooooo, I can't because the client is coming in and I'm like preparing and all that and he leans over and looks at my computer screens, and oh, yeah, I have two computers, like this older PC and a new laptop, or at least new from last year and I'm like, in my head, saying ummmm, hey dude put your eyes back in your head and like mind your own business, you dweeb.
It is like so clear that this guy is like totally out of his element and I'm like oh, fine, take a bit of mercy on the guy and try to help him out even though he is like totally being an asshole with the whole rude and pushy thing and so I like say to him well, like I'm really busy here on Wednesdays and if you like you can make an appointment for next week or the week after if like next week is already filled up or something, which I am not sure because the front people take appointment stuff for me and like it is cool because I don't have to play like phone tag with people and all that.
Oh god and then he says like well, can't I just sit in when your client like gets here and that should be enough for me to like figure out what you do here and I'm like all so sorry, but like I do my best to like protect my clients' privacy and all that, so, I'm so sorry, but I can't do that and really like it would take probably like a few weeks of every day one-on-one time with someone to give them the tools they need to like do what I do. Stupid you-know-what. Although I don't like say any of that last stuff, OK?
And, then, get this, he like says well, what do you have free for the rest of this week and I'm like seriously staring at his stupidity and rudeness but I'm like holding it all together and staying like professional and all that and I say in my sweet voice that sounds genuinely sweet to people who like don't really know me very well and I say like I'm so sorry, but the rest of my week is like all filled up. And like he's all insulted because even though he thinks that I'm being all sweet when I'm really thinking what the fuck and so I say that even though I can't help you right now and in my head I'm thinking yeah, dude, please fucking excuse me for not dropping everything and bending over so that you can like have your way with me.
Oh, s'kay, so then I ask him what they already like have to help their clients and he says ummm, like nothing and I'm all like well, didn't you guys get your grant and the money and the computers and all that and he goes like ummmm, no we just have a couple of computers but we're like hoping to get more and I say like you really don't have anything yet and he's like ummmm, yeah.
So, like, you know, I can tell that this is going nowhere like fast and I like tell him that there is another resource in town that would be able to help him learn how to do something like what I do, like it is sort of the same but like really different but it would at least like get them started because I know that they are supposed to begin the service on like Monday and all that. So I tell him what the resource is and he like goes all apeshit on me, on his inside, but I can see it leaking out of him like warm syrup and I repeat that they are a great resource but I don't tell him like that I am constantly fixing the stuff that people get from them and like that is at least a quarter of the work that I like do for my clients.
So, then he's just like standing there and I like take his hand and shake it and he's like what the hell like he never shook anyone's hand before and like he probably never did because he's like rude dude and all that.
So, then he's like gone and I'm all sort of offended and sort of pissed and like that because this is like the third time that these people have like rained on my parade and I'm also starting to feel just plain bad about the whole thing and then like the director of the place I work walks by and she's like really busy like she usually is but I ask her for a moment and I like tell her everything that happened and I'm like all apologizing for being such a selfish bitchzilla and she's like hey, those guys are trying to take advantage of you and like you should not feel bad about it, girlfriend.
And, I'm like all happy dancing in the streets because I'm not a bitchzilla, just a poor girl trying to like do her best and all that and I go back to my desk and like work some more because the client still hasn't shown up and all that.
S'kay so then I start to shame spiral and am feeling all like totally and sadly wonked out about rude dude because he clearly does not have like any clues about professional behavior much less any concept of like courtesy but I'm like feeling like I should be helping these poor guys and I look up the contact phone number in the on-line newspaper and like write it down and go find a phone where I was going to call and apologize or something stupid like that. So, you can totally imagine my surprise when the head guy answers the phone and I tell him what happened and like what the guy said and did and what I said and did and he's like oh, I'm so sorry and I'll like talk to him and I'm like cool.
So then he starts talking about how like cool I was when I talked to him all that time ago before they got the grant and how like helpful I was and how like grateful he was that I had given him like a whole hour and I didn't even remember that we talked for that long because I'm like so into what I do and I get so excited about sharing the process with like anyone who will listen, you know?
And I'm like sharing how impossible it is to teach someone to do what I do in like just an hour or even like ten hours and I ask what software they are using on their grant provided computers and he's like, ummm, well, we don't have any software and I'm like, dude, what were you planning to do with the people who come to you and he's like well, we have this one volunteer who maybe like knows how to handle herself and this other volunteer who like has never volunteered for anything before and I'm like going whoa in my head but saying stuff like oh and oh dear and oh my.
Then, so there's this silence which is complete and utter silence on his end of the phone line and like filled with gear grinding noises and steam engines chugging and stuff like sliding around and shifting from one level to another in my head on my end of the line. And then I like say, ummmm dude would you like some help and he like says oh man that would be like super great and divine and I would love you forever and have your babies if you would like help us out here because we're like drowning in despair and all that. Or like close to that.
S'kay so then anyway I like say to him, dude, let me put down the phone now and I can't put you on hold because this phone is way too like complicated and how the hell does anyone here know how to work the damn thing and he's like oh my precious, I will wait until the end of time for you and I like put down the phone and go over to my computer and look up the url of the software company that they should have like already known about because every damn person is using this stuff, even the resource that I like gave to rude dude and I come back and I give him the url and how to use the site and tell him that when they get the software I'll like come over and teach everyone how to like use it and give them some worksheets that they can like use to help the people who will be coming there and all that and he's like already worshiping me like the goddess I am and I'm all like it's OK dude, just get over it.
So then I go to find my director to tell her that I like caved and called the head guy and that I directed him to like buy the right stuff and that I'm going to help them and she's like oh, babe, you're not exactly stupid for like helping these morons but they don't deserve it and all that. Then she says like how could they just come over here and like think that they could use you like a public teeter-totter and then just like walk away and how would they like it if you like went to them and said like hey, I like what you do so why don't you just sit down with me for like an hour and teach me everything and I realized that her royalocity of one of the reasons that I like working here so much and I'm like right on sister and I went back to my desk and got back to work and all that.
So, like that was my day.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Other doors open
Today I am home, doing laundry and working on some web sites and playing mah jong when I can squeeze in a minute of slacker time.
I was also waiting for a telephone call. I had been offered a job by a volunteer organization, writing monthly articles for a their volunteer of the month. I was queried about my willingness to do this some time ago, but I have not given it much though, especially since I was experiencing technical difficulties with the whole pinning my hopes on the stars and all that. So, I was pleasantly surprised to receive an e-mail about it yesterday and a telephone discussion was tentatively scheduled for sometime this afternoon. Again, hopes remain unpinned.
It is a non-paying gig and I am fine with that, because it is only a few days work each month and I get to set my own schedule, except for the newspaper deadlines. Someone within the organization will be choosing the honorees, I will conduct the interviews, write the articles and handle the contact with the newspaper. I can do that.
It will be nice to have the opportunity to write for a newspaper again and whilst these kinds of interviews can be a struggle for the person being interviewed, I can handle and do that, too.
So, anyway, the person just called and she will be giving me the contact information for August's VOM in a few days.
Then, she asked me if I had heard about the new service at the blank-places. I told her that I had, and she asked me how I knew about it and I told her that the director of the city program came to talk to me about it before they had the grant. "Oh," she said, "Well, the mayor's office sent me a message that they are in need of volunteers and asked me to find some for them. The service is beginning on Monday and they do not have volunteers."
I did not say anything because there is nothing to say. That program director and I spoke about me volunteering for them and he chose not to contact me, which can only mean that not only did I not get the other thing, but I am, in addition, not a suitable volunteer. I should be upset about this, at least a little bit, but I am not. I am fine with it. Crazy.
Next, she asked me if I had any time that I could give to her for this service and I told her that I did not think that I had any time available.
In this moment, this exact location in time and space, they are a little strapped for helpers, but I know, they know, hell, everyone knows that they and the program are going to be fine. Really, just fine.
And, then, this other thing. The one about one of my sisters. I write so damn much that I cannot remember what or where I might have spewed stuff, but she is one of the more damaged ones of us sibs. That might not be entirely true, but she is definitely the one who acts out the most. She is in a hospital in the South, recovering from a life-changing event that she orchestrated. As part of her usual practice, she expected me to come and rescue her when the worst was over and, well, I am not doing that. I talk to her on the telephone all the time, just did, as a matter of fact, and she is getting better and tells me that the past several months have been a time for her to grow and learn, her words, and that she is grateful for the chances she now has, again, her words. She also reports that my refusal to rescue this time is part of that for her. I am not sure if that is true or something she thinks that she needs to say to me. Either way, it is none of my business and I am glad to leave it at that. She will be released from the hospital to a transitional facility or whatever it is called, in a few weeks. When she is, I plan to visit her there, although I have not shared that with her. Too much pressure for everyone, me for certain and I am just guessing about how that news would be for her. Another thing that I am perfectly happy to just let be.
All these choices that we have. What to do. What not to do. Who to care about or still care about but leave behind. Trying to stay on our own path. Not judge other people and their choices. It is all so fucking hard to do. You know, if you do not have a sense of something larger than yourself, I cannot imagine how you can trust in anything, not choices or people, the world, your community, even yourself. The world is a terrifying place when all you have is your flesh. I know.
I was also waiting for a telephone call. I had been offered a job by a volunteer organization, writing monthly articles for a their volunteer of the month. I was queried about my willingness to do this some time ago, but I have not given it much though, especially since I was experiencing technical difficulties with the whole pinning my hopes on the stars and all that. So, I was pleasantly surprised to receive an e-mail about it yesterday and a telephone discussion was tentatively scheduled for sometime this afternoon. Again, hopes remain unpinned.
It is a non-paying gig and I am fine with that, because it is only a few days work each month and I get to set my own schedule, except for the newspaper deadlines. Someone within the organization will be choosing the honorees, I will conduct the interviews, write the articles and handle the contact with the newspaper. I can do that.
It will be nice to have the opportunity to write for a newspaper again and whilst these kinds of interviews can be a struggle for the person being interviewed, I can handle and do that, too.
So, anyway, the person just called and she will be giving me the contact information for August's VOM in a few days.
Then, she asked me if I had heard about the new service at the blank-places. I told her that I had, and she asked me how I knew about it and I told her that the director of the city program came to talk to me about it before they had the grant. "Oh," she said, "Well, the mayor's office sent me a message that they are in need of volunteers and asked me to find some for them. The service is beginning on Monday and they do not have volunteers."
I did not say anything because there is nothing to say. That program director and I spoke about me volunteering for them and he chose not to contact me, which can only mean that not only did I not get the other thing, but I am, in addition, not a suitable volunteer. I should be upset about this, at least a little bit, but I am not. I am fine with it. Crazy.
Next, she asked me if I had any time that I could give to her for this service and I told her that I did not think that I had any time available.
In this moment, this exact location in time and space, they are a little strapped for helpers, but I know, they know, hell, everyone knows that they and the program are going to be fine. Really, just fine.
And, then, this other thing. The one about one of my sisters. I write so damn much that I cannot remember what or where I might have spewed stuff, but she is one of the more damaged ones of us sibs. That might not be entirely true, but she is definitely the one who acts out the most. She is in a hospital in the South, recovering from a life-changing event that she orchestrated. As part of her usual practice, she expected me to come and rescue her when the worst was over and, well, I am not doing that. I talk to her on the telephone all the time, just did, as a matter of fact, and she is getting better and tells me that the past several months have been a time for her to grow and learn, her words, and that she is grateful for the chances she now has, again, her words. She also reports that my refusal to rescue this time is part of that for her. I am not sure if that is true or something she thinks that she needs to say to me. Either way, it is none of my business and I am glad to leave it at that. She will be released from the hospital to a transitional facility or whatever it is called, in a few weeks. When she is, I plan to visit her there, although I have not shared that with her. Too much pressure for everyone, me for certain and I am just guessing about how that news would be for her. Another thing that I am perfectly happy to just let be.
All these choices that we have. What to do. What not to do. Who to care about or still care about but leave behind. Trying to stay on our own path. Not judge other people and their choices. It is all so fucking hard to do. You know, if you do not have a sense of something larger than yourself, I cannot imagine how you can trust in anything, not choices or people, the world, your community, even yourself. The world is a terrifying place when all you have is your flesh. I know.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thinking about the trip
I need this vacation. I guess we all do. Time away from our regular life can only a good thing.
I take trips, but none are for pleasure. For many years, too many to bear, I traveled for family matters. It was, ultimately, a waste of resources, time, money, heart. I am glad I did all of that, even though everything still fell apart and our family is as fractured as it ever was. I do not regret a moment of it, but it would have been nice if my mother had come to some place in her life where she could admit to the kind of parent she was and allow her children to have some kind of resolution for what they, we, I, experienced at her hands. Oh, well, you cannot have everything, no matter how strong your desire. The sad part of all of the sad parts is that there is probably scant chance that there will ever be any closeness between us. Just bloody sad.
The other traveling that I do is to help with workshops. They are pretty darn nice and they help to refresh me on occasion and get me out of town. I am not so successful in my personal life lately and simple being in a different geography, even if it is close, is very nice. We do anywhere from two to ten of these things each year. My favorites are the three-day ones, with the week-long ones eventually feeling like work, which if that is what I wanted, I could have easily just stayed home.
But, this actual vacation trip, in less than two months now, is just what the doctor ordered. And, medically speaking, doctor is a good word to use.
You see, one of my best friends is dying. She is not doing well at all in the context of her illness and has come to the understanding that she will not be here with us, all of the people who love her so much, for very much longer. She just embarked on another course of treatment. Her choice, but so distressing to watch her become more and more debilitated from all of this.
When someone you love is leaving you in this permanent way, it is not about you, it is about that person, but the truth is that it really is about us, too. She gets to do whatever she likes for her treatment. We support her. We help facilitate whatever she wants. Unless some miracle happens, we also get to lose her.
I know this sounds lame and selfish. I do not care. I want her to live, of course, but I am also invested in how she lives. Yeah, yeah, all her choices, but I still get to want what I want, as well. One of the things that she and her husband intended to do was to spend most of their time traveling, seeing every part of the world that they could reach and afford. Their plan was to rarely be home. And, then she got sick, and it was hopeful in the beginning, and the dreams of travel never were diminished. She was going to get well and they were going to become our own, personal, little globetrotters, who would send us e-mails and postcards and show us long, boring and absolutely delicious photo and film records of their adventures.
Except that she never got better. There have been days when she felt good enough to leave the house, often driving herself to somewhere pleasant where she could sit and relax, without any of us hovering around her. I think that that aspect of privacy, those tiny opportunities to get away from everything and everyone were her refuge, the thing that allowed her to be here and fight for her life.
Now she rarely allows anyone to visit her. She remains in telephone contact with one of us, but that is it. She continues with painful and horrible treatments that sap her strength and make her feel even more ill. Her choice.
This, all of this is what she chooses to do, but I wish that she would not. Her diagnosis was nearly two years ago. I am sure that if she had not opted for aggressive treatment that she would not have lived this long. But, the time that she did have could have been spent going on some of those trips, or simply doing fun things with her husband. She could have had excellent health and pain management and have had it follow her anyplace in the world that she went. Now it is too late. She is frail and in nearly constant pain that drugs can barely touch. She rarely leaves her bed and never leaves the house except for more doctors and more hospitals and more treatment.
How can this be a good thing? Her choice, but I do not understand it, no, I am unable to understand, what I cannot do is to accept it. Not in my heart.
That is why I am taking this trip. I am using money that was difficult to save and should be used to help me move on and have another life circumstance. Instead, I am using it on a trip, one that I have wanted to take for more than thirty years.
I never took it because there were always other things that needed being done. It was a foolish notion and I had to be grown-up, adult about where my resources went, you know, having the right priorities. I never resented not going, but the desire never left me, even though I pushed it someplace where I never had to think about it.
Two things happened to change my mind. The first is that I want to do some things just because I want them that much. I always made sacrifices and did without just because it was the right thing that someone else wanted me to do. I am not even certain that taking this trip is the right thing for me in this moment. Another thing about which I do not care.
The second thing is that our daughter asked her father for a favor and he turned her down with the exact excuse that he has always used whenever someone wanted or needed some thing or to do some thing that he did not think was important. Frankly, unless it involved him, it was never important. And, I was thinking about this and the few vacations that we took as a family were all paid for by me. I am so sorry, I have so much regret that I did not take us more places and do more things. Damn. I offered to do the favor for our daughter, but she declined, refusing to allow me to use my resources to help. I am not happy about this, but it is her choice and she has found another way to make her needs happen. Bless her.
I just want my choices to be better now. This trip is already causing problems here, but too fucking bad. My plans are to save whatever I can and then travel. Then, save some more and travel, and keep doing that until I have nothing to save and am too decrepit to make it around on my own.
I take trips, but none are for pleasure. For many years, too many to bear, I traveled for family matters. It was, ultimately, a waste of resources, time, money, heart. I am glad I did all of that, even though everything still fell apart and our family is as fractured as it ever was. I do not regret a moment of it, but it would have been nice if my mother had come to some place in her life where she could admit to the kind of parent she was and allow her children to have some kind of resolution for what they, we, I, experienced at her hands. Oh, well, you cannot have everything, no matter how strong your desire. The sad part of all of the sad parts is that there is probably scant chance that there will ever be any closeness between us. Just bloody sad.
The other traveling that I do is to help with workshops. They are pretty darn nice and they help to refresh me on occasion and get me out of town. I am not so successful in my personal life lately and simple being in a different geography, even if it is close, is very nice. We do anywhere from two to ten of these things each year. My favorites are the three-day ones, with the week-long ones eventually feeling like work, which if that is what I wanted, I could have easily just stayed home.
But, this actual vacation trip, in less than two months now, is just what the doctor ordered. And, medically speaking, doctor is a good word to use.
You see, one of my best friends is dying. She is not doing well at all in the context of her illness and has come to the understanding that she will not be here with us, all of the people who love her so much, for very much longer. She just embarked on another course of treatment. Her choice, but so distressing to watch her become more and more debilitated from all of this.
When someone you love is leaving you in this permanent way, it is not about you, it is about that person, but the truth is that it really is about us, too. She gets to do whatever she likes for her treatment. We support her. We help facilitate whatever she wants. Unless some miracle happens, we also get to lose her.
I know this sounds lame and selfish. I do not care. I want her to live, of course, but I am also invested in how she lives. Yeah, yeah, all her choices, but I still get to want what I want, as well. One of the things that she and her husband intended to do was to spend most of their time traveling, seeing every part of the world that they could reach and afford. Their plan was to rarely be home. And, then she got sick, and it was hopeful in the beginning, and the dreams of travel never were diminished. She was going to get well and they were going to become our own, personal, little globetrotters, who would send us e-mails and postcards and show us long, boring and absolutely delicious photo and film records of their adventures.
Except that she never got better. There have been days when she felt good enough to leave the house, often driving herself to somewhere pleasant where she could sit and relax, without any of us hovering around her. I think that that aspect of privacy, those tiny opportunities to get away from everything and everyone were her refuge, the thing that allowed her to be here and fight for her life.
Now she rarely allows anyone to visit her. She remains in telephone contact with one of us, but that is it. She continues with painful and horrible treatments that sap her strength and make her feel even more ill. Her choice.
This, all of this is what she chooses to do, but I wish that she would not. Her diagnosis was nearly two years ago. I am sure that if she had not opted for aggressive treatment that she would not have lived this long. But, the time that she did have could have been spent going on some of those trips, or simply doing fun things with her husband. She could have had excellent health and pain management and have had it follow her anyplace in the world that she went. Now it is too late. She is frail and in nearly constant pain that drugs can barely touch. She rarely leaves her bed and never leaves the house except for more doctors and more hospitals and more treatment.
How can this be a good thing? Her choice, but I do not understand it, no, I am unable to understand, what I cannot do is to accept it. Not in my heart.
That is why I am taking this trip. I am using money that was difficult to save and should be used to help me move on and have another life circumstance. Instead, I am using it on a trip, one that I have wanted to take for more than thirty years.
I never took it because there were always other things that needed being done. It was a foolish notion and I had to be grown-up, adult about where my resources went, you know, having the right priorities. I never resented not going, but the desire never left me, even though I pushed it someplace where I never had to think about it.
Two things happened to change my mind. The first is that I want to do some things just because I want them that much. I always made sacrifices and did without just because it was the right thing that someone else wanted me to do. I am not even certain that taking this trip is the right thing for me in this moment. Another thing about which I do not care.
The second thing is that our daughter asked her father for a favor and he turned her down with the exact excuse that he has always used whenever someone wanted or needed some thing or to do some thing that he did not think was important. Frankly, unless it involved him, it was never important. And, I was thinking about this and the few vacations that we took as a family were all paid for by me. I am so sorry, I have so much regret that I did not take us more places and do more things. Damn. I offered to do the favor for our daughter, but she declined, refusing to allow me to use my resources to help. I am not happy about this, but it is her choice and she has found another way to make her needs happen. Bless her.
I just want my choices to be better now. This trip is already causing problems here, but too fucking bad. My plans are to save whatever I can and then travel. Then, save some more and travel, and keep doing that until I have nothing to save and am too decrepit to make it around on my own.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Better
It took me almost thirty-six hours to mend my broken heart and accept that it is more than likely, nearly certain, that when we do not get something that we want it is because we need to be open and available for the thing that is right for us. I have not any idea what that might be, but I do now have the time available, the time that would have been filled with the job that I wanted and did not get.
Frankly, I am still a little surprised that it held so much energy for me and that I felt such deep and heart-wrenching disappointment about the whole issue.
Yeah, much better.
Frankly, I am still a little surprised that it held so much energy for me and that I felt such deep and heart-wrenching disappointment about the whole issue.
Yeah, much better.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Did not get
a job.
The job.
The one that certainly was not going to change the world, not even my little corner of it, but it was the job that I wanted. Apparently I am good enough to be a resource, to teach, but not to be employed by the project, the position, that was offered without actually being offered a month ago. Carrot and stick. I am such a sucker for that. Sort of a replay from last year. I wonder if I am marked somewhere with the universal symbol for 'fool'. Kind of like that "Kick Me" sign that gets slapped onto your back by the person you thought was your friend.
So, anyway, the press release was released today and someone was 'kind' enough to share it with me, asking if I knew about it and when I replied that I did, it was suggested that I volunteer to help.
I guess I am good enough to do that.
So sad tonight and no damn fun food in the house.
The job.
The one that certainly was not going to change the world, not even my little corner of it, but it was the job that I wanted. Apparently I am good enough to be a resource, to teach, but not to be employed by the project, the position, that was offered without actually being offered a month ago. Carrot and stick. I am such a sucker for that. Sort of a replay from last year. I wonder if I am marked somewhere with the universal symbol for 'fool'. Kind of like that "Kick Me" sign that gets slapped onto your back by the person you thought was your friend.
So, anyway, the press release was released today and someone was 'kind' enough to share it with me, asking if I knew about it and when I replied that I did, it was suggested that I volunteer to help.
I guess I am good enough to do that.
So sad tonight and no damn fun food in the house.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Broken stuff
The most important, as of this exact moment, broken thing is my toe or maybe toes.
I have a visual disorder that is untreatable by conventional means. The treatments of choice are to find side-effects from medications created for other issues and use those side-effects to modify or limit or change the way this visual disorder manifests. I think that it is called off-label use when meds are used in this way. Yeah, I am pretty sure that is the term.
So, anyway, seven years of messing around with all of that, as well as external vision devices, left me with no alternative but to have surgery, of the experimental kind, and, huge surprise, surgery types that are used for other vision disorders, conditions and diseases. When it became clear that I was going to have to give up driving, I finally decided to do that three years ago, I, and my doctors, decided on a particular surgical technique that had been successful for other issues and as an additional precaution, I wanted the surgery to be more invasive that is customary. Fortunately, I have the best doctors in the Universe and they agreed, and without any hesitation. I mean, that is how good they are, that they not only are expert in what they do, but that they truly and immediately understood what I needed from this surgery.
The possible negative consequences were a fairly short list, but included permanent facial paralysis (nerve involvement), temporary or permanent pain (also nerve), complete loss of vision in that eye (not a problem for me) and the usual suspect, death (certainly a problem for me). I had the surgery, post haste, and whilst I did have temporary facial paralysis, and do have permanent facial pain and a sever diplopia that cannot be managed with prisms, I did not totally lose the vision in that eye and I did not die. All decent results as far as I am concerned. In effect, I traded one disability for another disability and I am happy because the new problems are ones with which I can successfully, although not always so happily, live for the rest of my life. Even with the pain and diplopia, I am thrilled to have had such a good result.
So. The diplopia is supposed to be fixed, that means that it is not supposed to jiggle around and change very much, but it does. The oblique muscles of the eye will do what they please and most of the time that is not important. Except when I am walking or moving things or reading or using the computer or doing other things that need changes in field of vision.
And, that is why I broke my toe(s). I was walking in the house and the diplopia torqued up, or down as in this instance, I stumbled and drove the side of my right foot into the corner of the wall.
I felt my little toe bend at a right angle, horizontally, and then nothing. No pain or discomfort or anything. After about thirty seconds of this bliss, the pain hit and lasted for the rest of the day. The whole area turned a lovely purple and ghastly reddish color. Yesterday it did not hurt unless I stepped too quickly or bumped it, which I did twice. Today is is darker in some places, lighter in other places and hurts like the dickens. Even massive quantities of over-the-counter analgesics are not lessening it.
The other broken part of this story is that because my vision is so unreliable when walking or handling things or just moving around in the immediate environment, I stumble, stagger, trip, fall once in a while, lurch, drop things and stuff like that. Someone who is not me is convinced that all of this happens because I constantly drink alcohol to excess. Actually, I do not drink at all because the medications I take for diabetes and high blood pressure preclude the use of any alcohol, even on an occasional basis. Either take the meds or drink. I prefer the alcohol, frankly, but take the meds instead.
You know, if you have sufficient life experience, that once someone gets something into his/her head, there is virtually nothing that you can do to dissuade them of those erroneous notions. You are stuck with what they think about you, especially if they do not particularly like you in the first place. And, you pay consequences for things, issues and aspects for which you hold no responsibility. Kind of sucks.
In this, the toe case, it means that there is more broken than my toes. Not that it has been terrific or great or even passable for some time, but when you are already hurting, the additional hurt is just not all that nice. I did not expect any attention or sympathy, but, well...you know. I am kind of disappointed in myself that I am disappointed. It is just that the disconnect is so complete and there is not anything that I can do about it. I am kind of breaking in all sorts of little ways lately, and I have to run even faster and harder to stay upbeat and productive and hopeful. You know?
Anyway, I weary of this, especially the writing of it. I need to grow up and grow a pair.
I have a visual disorder that is untreatable by conventional means. The treatments of choice are to find side-effects from medications created for other issues and use those side-effects to modify or limit or change the way this visual disorder manifests. I think that it is called off-label use when meds are used in this way. Yeah, I am pretty sure that is the term.
So, anyway, seven years of messing around with all of that, as well as external vision devices, left me with no alternative but to have surgery, of the experimental kind, and, huge surprise, surgery types that are used for other vision disorders, conditions and diseases. When it became clear that I was going to have to give up driving, I finally decided to do that three years ago, I, and my doctors, decided on a particular surgical technique that had been successful for other issues and as an additional precaution, I wanted the surgery to be more invasive that is customary. Fortunately, I have the best doctors in the Universe and they agreed, and without any hesitation. I mean, that is how good they are, that they not only are expert in what they do, but that they truly and immediately understood what I needed from this surgery.
The possible negative consequences were a fairly short list, but included permanent facial paralysis (nerve involvement), temporary or permanent pain (also nerve), complete loss of vision in that eye (not a problem for me) and the usual suspect, death (certainly a problem for me). I had the surgery, post haste, and whilst I did have temporary facial paralysis, and do have permanent facial pain and a sever diplopia that cannot be managed with prisms, I did not totally lose the vision in that eye and I did not die. All decent results as far as I am concerned. In effect, I traded one disability for another disability and I am happy because the new problems are ones with which I can successfully, although not always so happily, live for the rest of my life. Even with the pain and diplopia, I am thrilled to have had such a good result.
So. The diplopia is supposed to be fixed, that means that it is not supposed to jiggle around and change very much, but it does. The oblique muscles of the eye will do what they please and most of the time that is not important. Except when I am walking or moving things or reading or using the computer or doing other things that need changes in field of vision.
And, that is why I broke my toe(s). I was walking in the house and the diplopia torqued up, or down as in this instance, I stumbled and drove the side of my right foot into the corner of the wall.
I felt my little toe bend at a right angle, horizontally, and then nothing. No pain or discomfort or anything. After about thirty seconds of this bliss, the pain hit and lasted for the rest of the day. The whole area turned a lovely purple and ghastly reddish color. Yesterday it did not hurt unless I stepped too quickly or bumped it, which I did twice. Today is is darker in some places, lighter in other places and hurts like the dickens. Even massive quantities of over-the-counter analgesics are not lessening it.
The other broken part of this story is that because my vision is so unreliable when walking or handling things or just moving around in the immediate environment, I stumble, stagger, trip, fall once in a while, lurch, drop things and stuff like that. Someone who is not me is convinced that all of this happens because I constantly drink alcohol to excess. Actually, I do not drink at all because the medications I take for diabetes and high blood pressure preclude the use of any alcohol, even on an occasional basis. Either take the meds or drink. I prefer the alcohol, frankly, but take the meds instead.
You know, if you have sufficient life experience, that once someone gets something into his/her head, there is virtually nothing that you can do to dissuade them of those erroneous notions. You are stuck with what they think about you, especially if they do not particularly like you in the first place. And, you pay consequences for things, issues and aspects for which you hold no responsibility. Kind of sucks.
In this, the toe case, it means that there is more broken than my toes. Not that it has been terrific or great or even passable for some time, but when you are already hurting, the additional hurt is just not all that nice. I did not expect any attention or sympathy, but, well...you know. I am kind of disappointed in myself that I am disappointed. It is just that the disconnect is so complete and there is not anything that I can do about it. I am kind of breaking in all sorts of little ways lately, and I have to run even faster and harder to stay upbeat and productive and hopeful. You know?
Anyway, I weary of this, especially the writing of it. I need to grow up and grow a pair.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Two things worth saving, one kind of sweet and I do not understand the second very well
I should be plugging away at this pile of paper, but I want to throw these two things away and still keep them.
This one was part of the process of a prayer group to which I belonged many years ago. It transitioned into a Steiner study group, which was more to my taste, but my schedule forced me to drop away and whilst I still see some of those cool people and they invite me to rejoin them, I still cannot. So, anyway, just substitute the word Divine or higher self or whatever suits you for the word God, if you are so inclined. I am.
This one was part of the process of a prayer group to which I belonged many years ago. It transitioned into a Steiner study group, which was more to my taste, but my schedule forced me to drop away and whilst I still see some of those cool people and they invite me to rejoin them, I still cannot. So, anyway, just substitute the word Divine or higher self or whatever suits you for the word God, if you are so inclined. I am.
- I open my heart and mind in full surrender to the power of my indwelling God and align in love with my partners in prayer.
- I believe that God in an energy of pure love flowing through me. I am a channel of its expression.
- I take responsibility for my life experience without guilt or judgment. I am ready to change my beliefs and attitudes at depth. My life is transformed.
- I am willing to release all unforgiveness for any perceived mistakes or wrongdoings. I forgive by now giving unconditional love and acceptance to myself and others. I am a being of Light and Love.
- In complete faith and trust, I speak into creation the desires of my heart. (State or visualize your desire.)
- I joyously accept and give thanks that the desires of my heart are fulfilled. I move into life with confidence, knowing that Divine right action is at work.
- I now have a covenant in which it is agreed that as a powerful being of God, my life is one of service to all humankind. My commitment is to live in a manner that sets the highest example for others to follow. I go forth with a spirit of enthusiasm, excitement and expectancy.
IT IS DONE!!!
Typing this was very interesting. I did this because I wanted it archived somewhere that I could access it if need be, not that the Internet is the safest place, but it does mean one less piece of paper in my life. I especially like the fourth statement about forgiveness. No randomness in the Universe, hey?
The second thing is scribbled on the backside of two of those smallish pink slips for taking telephone messages, you know, like one of those "While you were out" pads. So, let us see if this makes any sense, because it looks like something I wrote whilst someone else was saying it.
Conscious connection that my thoughts can affect reality or affect my life because reality equals life, then I have this little pact that I have when I create my day. (Note: I think this is from the film about quantum physics, "Down the Rabbit Hole")
I say. I am thinking this time to create my day and I am infecting the quantum field. (Yep, from that fillum!)
Observer - show me a sign today that you paid attention to any one of these things that I have created and bring them in a way that I will not expect so that I am as surprised at my ability to be able to experience these things and make it so that I have no doubt that it has come from you.
My consciousness influences other around me.
It influences material properties.
It influences my future.
I am co-creating my future.
Yeah, cool. Now, just to actually do any of it. Ah, that's the rub.
Back to the hated divesting.
New start one and a half gazillion
Apparently I need a lot of new starts. Fresh beginnings. That burst of energy that comes from desire or regret or fear or just having been stuck for too long in a place in my life that does not serve me or anyone else. I was thinking for a while that where I am does not concern other people, that it was my own process and truly belonged just to me, but I am feeling more and more that, you know, I do not live in isolation, as much as I desire that sometimes, I live in a society, a community and, more importantly, a family, one that is made up of not only the people to whom I am connected by blood and marriage, but those people I have purposefully chosen to be part of the truest part of what family means to me. I always thought of myself as a person who thinks of other people first, but that is probably one of the delusions that helps me get through the day, you know? I am the queen of rationalization.
As part of one of the dozens of conversations we had at coffee yesterday, it was suggested to me that I begin to document some of what happens here. Documenting is always a great idea. A little ink, some paper in a bound or dated book and you are set to go.
So, I am doing that. I am writing down everything that seems essential to the process. One of those is the uncomfortable and weird physical aspects of this environment. It is stimulated by the heat, but I will be filling it out with my daily work on getting rid of the rest of my stuff. As of this moment, practically everything is on the table and open for divesting. The books were difficult, but the art materials and stuff are already making my chest tight and hurting, but I am determined to winnow it all down into a bunch of those medium sized plastic bins and they will not be overflowing, but will have to accommodate a firmly attached lid.
Man, that really is enough to give me a heart attack.
I will also be shredding or burning every bit of paperwork that is not on some essential-to-keep-list. Just to be safe, but everything else goes. Cards, notebooks, journals, old records, everything is fuel for the flames.
I know that this is all about loss for me. When I lose or have taken from me the things and people that matter, I hold even tighter to the crap over which I have some control. I think that all people do this, in one manner or another, but not with the pathology that is my response to taking a personal thrashing or experiencing some new scarcity.
That is it, that is the word that describes this, at least in this moment...scarcity. It is varying degrees of actual loss of something and the never-had aspect of something that holds significance or energy for me. The something that was intended to fill that empty space in us. Our black hole of need. Not want, but a foundational need that we were either supposed to have or that we were intended to not have so that we would do some thing or task or duty or relationship or work in our lives. I cannot figure out what that particular carrot on a stick is for me and maybe not knowing is part of the process.
So, today will have me logging stuff and getting rid of stuff. And, maybe the blazing hot temperatures in this house are part of what I need to learn by doing this releasing in spite of being physically uncomfortable. I keep reminding myself that there are people all over the globe who manage quite well without modern temperature control and have always done so. Privileged, soft, entitled and lazy me can do the same.
And, as for my friend, I am letting all of this go. I spoke yesterday to another friend, one who has dealt with bias and prejudice in an up-close and personal way. I hesitated to do it because I did want to exploit our relationship, but I was desperate to know if I handled this the right way, so I took the low-road and talked to her about it. She was comfortable with what I had said and done and gave me excellent tips on what to do next, if I choose to do anything. I am guessing that she had to guess that my intentions were coming from the right place and I have come to think that I have to give that same consideration to the friend that precipitated this issue. What a mess. Us humans. Lordy.
As part of one of the dozens of conversations we had at coffee yesterday, it was suggested to me that I begin to document some of what happens here. Documenting is always a great idea. A little ink, some paper in a bound or dated book and you are set to go.
So, I am doing that. I am writing down everything that seems essential to the process. One of those is the uncomfortable and weird physical aspects of this environment. It is stimulated by the heat, but I will be filling it out with my daily work on getting rid of the rest of my stuff. As of this moment, practically everything is on the table and open for divesting. The books were difficult, but the art materials and stuff are already making my chest tight and hurting, but I am determined to winnow it all down into a bunch of those medium sized plastic bins and they will not be overflowing, but will have to accommodate a firmly attached lid.
Man, that really is enough to give me a heart attack.
I will also be shredding or burning every bit of paperwork that is not on some essential-to-keep-list. Just to be safe, but everything else goes. Cards, notebooks, journals, old records, everything is fuel for the flames.
I know that this is all about loss for me. When I lose or have taken from me the things and people that matter, I hold even tighter to the crap over which I have some control. I think that all people do this, in one manner or another, but not with the pathology that is my response to taking a personal thrashing or experiencing some new scarcity.
That is it, that is the word that describes this, at least in this moment...scarcity. It is varying degrees of actual loss of something and the never-had aspect of something that holds significance or energy for me. The something that was intended to fill that empty space in us. Our black hole of need. Not want, but a foundational need that we were either supposed to have or that we were intended to not have so that we would do some thing or task or duty or relationship or work in our lives. I cannot figure out what that particular carrot on a stick is for me and maybe not knowing is part of the process.
So, today will have me logging stuff and getting rid of stuff. And, maybe the blazing hot temperatures in this house are part of what I need to learn by doing this releasing in spite of being physically uncomfortable. I keep reminding myself that there are people all over the globe who manage quite well without modern temperature control and have always done so. Privileged, soft, entitled and lazy me can do the same.
And, as for my friend, I am letting all of this go. I spoke yesterday to another friend, one who has dealt with bias and prejudice in an up-close and personal way. I hesitated to do it because I did want to exploit our relationship, but I was desperate to know if I handled this the right way, so I took the low-road and talked to her about it. She was comfortable with what I had said and done and gave me excellent tips on what to do next, if I choose to do anything. I am guessing that she had to guess that my intentions were coming from the right place and I have come to think that I have to give that same consideration to the friend that precipitated this issue. What a mess. Us humans. Lordy.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Wheat berries
On the way home from being a brat, I stopped and bought vegetables and grains. Then I stopped and bought a new dishpan and a cheap telephone.
Pulling out of the parking lot means going downhill a bit and the packages on the seat next to me slid to the floor. The dishpan and telephone fell on top of the wheat berries and popped the bag, sending berries everywhere.
I pulled over and gathered them up before they had a chance to scatter to every corner of the car.
When I wash them tomorrow, before I cook them, I will take a moment for every berry to consider what kind of person I want to be and think about how nice it would be to put my ego on hold for a while.
Permanently would be nice.
Pulling out of the parking lot means going downhill a bit and the packages on the seat next to me slid to the floor. The dishpan and telephone fell on top of the wheat berries and popped the bag, sending berries everywhere.
I pulled over and gathered them up before they had a chance to scatter to every corner of the car.
When I wash them tomorrow, before I cook them, I will take a moment for every berry to consider what kind of person I want to be and think about how nice it would be to put my ego on hold for a while.
Permanently would be nice.
I am too moody,
too opinionated, too cranky, to be around normal people. I am still so upset from Thursday's issue with my friend. I hate this. Friends are too precious to just toss off because they do not meet your expectations of them.
I saw her today. I did my best to behave just the way I always do with this group. My heart was not in it. I am being a selfish brat about this. I am as imperfect as a person can be and I am still judging her about this. I am holding on to this. But, I do not want to be her friend. I suck in the friend department, because you do not give up on someone simply because she disappoints you. You stick with her and be the best friend that you can be and hope that something good will come of it in time. You do not walk away from someone because she is an ordinary human being, just like I am.
If that were the criteria, the being human thing, everyone in my life would have walked away from me a long time ago.
Just saying.
I saw her today. I did my best to behave just the way I always do with this group. My heart was not in it. I am being a selfish brat about this. I am as imperfect as a person can be and I am still judging her about this. I am holding on to this. But, I do not want to be her friend. I suck in the friend department, because you do not give up on someone simply because she disappoints you. You stick with her and be the best friend that you can be and hope that something good will come of it in time. You do not walk away from someone because she is an ordinary human being, just like I am.
If that were the criteria, the being human thing, everyone in my life would have walked away from me a long time ago.
Just saying.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
A racist in non-secular clothing
I need to go away.
Someplace all by myself.
Just me.
A pile of books.
Some nice and healthy food, with the occasional field trip to find junk food.
Wine...probably not, as it is supposed to interfere with my high blood pressure medication.
O.K., diet soda, then.
Quiet.
Naps.
Yeah. I could use that. I can do that in a few months when the place I work is closed for remodeling, but I just need it today. I am so tired of dealing with the crap buffet here. I am worn down.
Then, today I was helping my friend the nun and her friends and totally out of the blue, she brought an issue into the conversation and when I disagreed, she resorted to racism to make her point.
What the fuck?
When I challenged her on what she had said, she condescended to me by rephrasing and explaining her comment in the guise of social responsibility.
What the hell?
I continued to hold my ground on this and she kept talking, just making it worse and breaking my heart. I mean, this is my friend and who knew she harbored such beliefs. I mean, she is a nun, for crying out loud.
So, I just let her talk and looked in her eyes until she ran out of steam.
Just hoping that I would see some awareness there.
I said what I had to say.
Again.
She thinks that I am too stupid to understand her premise.
Perhaps I am just too stupid to be the kind of friend she mistakenly believes me to be.
What is there about our relationship that she thought it was safe to say that?
I mean, did she just meet me?
Someplace all by myself.
Just me.
A pile of books.
Some nice and healthy food, with the occasional field trip to find junk food.
Wine...probably not, as it is supposed to interfere with my high blood pressure medication.
O.K., diet soda, then.
Quiet.
Naps.
Yeah. I could use that. I can do that in a few months when the place I work is closed for remodeling, but I just need it today. I am so tired of dealing with the crap buffet here. I am worn down.
Then, today I was helping my friend the nun and her friends and totally out of the blue, she brought an issue into the conversation and when I disagreed, she resorted to racism to make her point.
What the fuck?
When I challenged her on what she had said, she condescended to me by rephrasing and explaining her comment in the guise of social responsibility.
What the hell?
I continued to hold my ground on this and she kept talking, just making it worse and breaking my heart. I mean, this is my friend and who knew she harbored such beliefs. I mean, she is a nun, for crying out loud.
So, I just let her talk and looked in her eyes until she ran out of steam.
Just hoping that I would see some awareness there.
I said what I had to say.
Again.
She thinks that I am too stupid to understand her premise.
Perhaps I am just too stupid to be the kind of friend she mistakenly believes me to be.
What is there about our relationship that she thought it was safe to say that?
I mean, did she just meet me?
Monday, July 5, 2010
Sometimes a lie is necessary to tell the truth
I am going to stop complaining about my life.
That is, of course, the lie. If I tried to do that, the stop complaining part, I would probably self-combust. We all would. Anyone who claims otherwise, is perpetuating their own lie.
But, that said, I really am going to try to cut down on the loathing of my life thing. There are aspects of it that defy success, but that does not mean that I have to toss it all off. Nor, does it mean that I am going to manifest my inner Pollyanna, although I am quite fond of her.
It is just that a friend's life and a film I just saw and a book I am reading are helping me to have a better, a more accurate perspective on stuff. Man, I have gone through this before and I suspect that I will backslide and have to consume this particular humble pie again. So be it.
I just want my feelings to be about the good truths in my life and not so much about the lies that make it possible to move through the day.
I have a shitty relationship and I am powerless to do anything about it except survive.
I have absolutely no effect, much less any control, about anyone else, no matter how my heart yearns for something better here.
As much as I hate, and resist, doing so, I have to begin to separate myself from a particular person in my family, because it is in the best interest of both of us to do this painful and difficult thing, and I am not talking about the someone who is not me.
I must gain control of my finances.
I must get sufficient sleep at night so that I can resist that darn mid-day need for a nap. I have to get rid of more stuff and I cannot do that if I have to stop and sleep in the middle of some project..
I accept that what is true for me is dynamic and need to get over my desire to have constancy where none can exist.
That is, of course, the lie. If I tried to do that, the stop complaining part, I would probably self-combust. We all would. Anyone who claims otherwise, is perpetuating their own lie.
But, that said, I really am going to try to cut down on the loathing of my life thing. There are aspects of it that defy success, but that does not mean that I have to toss it all off. Nor, does it mean that I am going to manifest my inner Pollyanna, although I am quite fond of her.
It is just that a friend's life and a film I just saw and a book I am reading are helping me to have a better, a more accurate perspective on stuff. Man, I have gone through this before and I suspect that I will backslide and have to consume this particular humble pie again. So be it.
I just want my feelings to be about the good truths in my life and not so much about the lies that make it possible to move through the day.
I have a shitty relationship and I am powerless to do anything about it except survive.
I have absolutely no effect, much less any control, about anyone else, no matter how my heart yearns for something better here.
As much as I hate, and resist, doing so, I have to begin to separate myself from a particular person in my family, because it is in the best interest of both of us to do this painful and difficult thing, and I am not talking about the someone who is not me.
I must gain control of my finances.
I must get sufficient sleep at night so that I can resist that darn mid-day need for a nap. I have to get rid of more stuff and I cannot do that if I have to stop and sleep in the middle of some project..
I accept that what is true for me is dynamic and need to get over my desire to have constancy where none can exist.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
OUAT, Chapter 3
I was at Walmart, buying a telephone because the old one is in such bad shape that earlier this week the connection was so horrible that the woman at my insurance company asked if I was calling from overseas. I also bought summer jammies for the boys, an anniversary card for some friends and a $1 tiara for myself because, well, a girl can never have too many tiaras. I was in the checkout line behind a couple who had a cart full of cool and groovy summer patio stuff, like wine glasses, party supplies, some really cool kitchen goods and linens, and yard decorations. My guess is that they are having a party for this holiday.
The last item put on the counter was a pair of men's running shoes. The woman started in on the poor cashier about how the shoes were dirty and how can you allow people to mess up the shoes when other people want to buy them and why is there not anyone in that department to keep the shoes nice and she came all the way over here for this particular pair of shoes and her time is very valuable and she could to to Payless and buy brand new shoes and she deserves a discount because the shoes are damaged and even after the cashier called for a manager and the manager came to look at the shoes, she just kept on yelling and getting louder and louder and the rest of us waiting in line were totally cracking up.
So, anyway, I am standing right next to her and I cannot see any marks on the shoes at all and the cashier cannot see them and the manager cannot see them and she never stopped talking and complaining about how she can go to Payless and buy brand new shoes and not have to pay full price for damaged goods.
The manager lets her talk and I could see that she, the manager, was trying not to smile and she asks the customer if she would like a discount on the shoes and the customer says, "Well, it's about time because I shouldn't have to pay for damaged goods when I can go to Payless and buy brand new shoes." The manager then offers her 10% off of the original price and the customer replies that that will be just fine. So, the cashier rings up the shoes, does an override and takes $1.20 off of the $12.00 original price of the shoes. The man behind me was laughing so hard that he nearly dropped his box of cat litter.
When the cashier was checking me out, she told me that the card I bought had a smudge on it and asked if I wanted to exchange it for a clean card. That is when I lost it and started laughing and told her that the card was fine and the man behind me said that they should give me a discount because I could go the Hallmark store and buy a brand new card.
The moral of this story is that a penny saved is a penny earned, but an outrageous checkout line performance is priceless.
It was 3 p.m.
The outside temperature was 96 degrees.
The indoor temperature was 85 degrees.
The furnace was still on.
All I could bear to eat was some bread and butter.
This is why the Goddess gave us fans and a sense of humor.
I was able to put my life into perspective when one of my best friend's boyfriend (Do women our age have boyfriends and if not what are they called? Paramours?) pulled a shotgun on her and shot her sculptures. The pieces of art that he did not completely obliterate with the gun were finished off with a club. I can hardly wait to read the police report.
Part of this morning's coffee with my friends was about butter, and the relative merits of covered butter dishes, butter bells and whether or not (and how) butter should be refrigerated. One of the women stated that she despises butter bells because once her butter melted down into the water, which is actually impossible to do, unless you fully packed the butter container and then heaped more butter on top of that butter and then balanced the top portion of the container on the heaped up butter and set it in the sun. I mean, if you are going to have a prejudice about something, then at least get your physics right. Maybe it is not physics, but whatever it is, stop being such a dork. Anyway, the conversation got a little heated (butter pun) and I decided not to share that I like my butter closer to rancid than to spanking-new-fresh. I wonder where the dialogue might have gone had I mentioned my fondness for yak butter.
I am going to try to avoid doing anything, useful or not, until the sun goes down or the furnace blows up or someone who is not me finally sees the utility bill and blows up (making popcorn for that show). No cooking, no cleaning, nothing that takes or creates any kind of temperature changes. I am going to watch DVDs from the library, I have six of them, put my feet up and drink a couple of my coupon-free-sodas and have some cherries. When it is dark and cool-cool-cooler, I will finally make the meatloaf and bake the ribs and fill my underwear with ice cubes because the furnace will probably still be on.
Happy holiday! The history books, at least the ones that the revisionists have not yet gutted, tell us that England was not thrilled with our revolution, but I am betting that they are happy-dance happy now that they are rid of us. Yep.
The last item put on the counter was a pair of men's running shoes. The woman started in on the poor cashier about how the shoes were dirty and how can you allow people to mess up the shoes when other people want to buy them and why is there not anyone in that department to keep the shoes nice and she came all the way over here for this particular pair of shoes and her time is very valuable and she could to to Payless and buy brand new shoes and she deserves a discount because the shoes are damaged and even after the cashier called for a manager and the manager came to look at the shoes, she just kept on yelling and getting louder and louder and the rest of us waiting in line were totally cracking up.
So, anyway, I am standing right next to her and I cannot see any marks on the shoes at all and the cashier cannot see them and the manager cannot see them and she never stopped talking and complaining about how she can go to Payless and buy brand new shoes and not have to pay full price for damaged goods.
The manager lets her talk and I could see that she, the manager, was trying not to smile and she asks the customer if she would like a discount on the shoes and the customer says, "Well, it's about time because I shouldn't have to pay for damaged goods when I can go to Payless and buy brand new shoes." The manager then offers her 10% off of the original price and the customer replies that that will be just fine. So, the cashier rings up the shoes, does an override and takes $1.20 off of the $12.00 original price of the shoes. The man behind me was laughing so hard that he nearly dropped his box of cat litter.
When the cashier was checking me out, she told me that the card I bought had a smudge on it and asked if I wanted to exchange it for a clean card. That is when I lost it and started laughing and told her that the card was fine and the man behind me said that they should give me a discount because I could go the Hallmark store and buy a brand new card.
The moral of this story is that a penny saved is a penny earned, but an outrageous checkout line performance is priceless.
It was 3 p.m.
The outside temperature was 96 degrees.
The indoor temperature was 85 degrees.
The furnace was still on.
All I could bear to eat was some bread and butter.
This is why the Goddess gave us fans and a sense of humor.
I was able to put my life into perspective when one of my best friend's boyfriend (Do women our age have boyfriends and if not what are they called? Paramours?) pulled a shotgun on her and shot her sculptures. The pieces of art that he did not completely obliterate with the gun were finished off with a club. I can hardly wait to read the police report.
Part of this morning's coffee with my friends was about butter, and the relative merits of covered butter dishes, butter bells and whether or not (and how) butter should be refrigerated. One of the women stated that she despises butter bells because once her butter melted down into the water, which is actually impossible to do, unless you fully packed the butter container and then heaped more butter on top of that butter and then balanced the top portion of the container on the heaped up butter and set it in the sun. I mean, if you are going to have a prejudice about something, then at least get your physics right. Maybe it is not physics, but whatever it is, stop being such a dork. Anyway, the conversation got a little heated (butter pun) and I decided not to share that I like my butter closer to rancid than to spanking-new-fresh. I wonder where the dialogue might have gone had I mentioned my fondness for yak butter.
I am going to try to avoid doing anything, useful or not, until the sun goes down or the furnace blows up or someone who is not me finally sees the utility bill and blows up (making popcorn for that show). No cooking, no cleaning, nothing that takes or creates any kind of temperature changes. I am going to watch DVDs from the library, I have six of them, put my feet up and drink a couple of my coupon-free-sodas and have some cherries. When it is dark and cool-cool-cooler, I will finally make the meatloaf and bake the ribs and fill my underwear with ice cubes because the furnace will probably still be on.
Happy holiday! The history books, at least the ones that the revisionists have not yet gutted, tell us that England was not thrilled with our revolution, but I am betting that they are happy-dance happy now that they are rid of us. Yep.
Friday, July 2, 2010
OUAT, Chapter 2
It was noon.
The outside temperature was 92.
The inside temperature was 87.
Someone forgot to turn off the furnace.
Yes, this is still amusing.
The outside temperature was 92.
The inside temperature was 87.
Someone forgot to turn off the furnace.
Yes, this is still amusing.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Fail
God promises to successfully make dolls?
It is a story that refers to successful human pregnancies?
If a child is not successfully born it is because God broke a promise?
What a comfort that must be to grieving parents.
What was fb thinking? Does anyone check out these ads before they show up on your page?
Totally creeped out here.
Once upon a time
It was 8 p.m.
It was 85 degrees outdoors.
It was 79 degrees indoors.
Then, someone turned on the furnace.
Why do I still find this amusing?
It was 85 degrees outdoors.
It was 79 degrees indoors.
Then, someone turned on the furnace.
Why do I still find this amusing?
Hubris
will turn and bite you in the ass every time. I am old enough to know that feeling good about yourself is a call to attention that terrible things are to follow. That makes me sound like a fatalist, but I am not. I am a hopeful, cheerful and totally optimistic person. In the depths of the crap buffet, I can wait to eat until I get away from there, if I have to, and if the waiting time does not turn into a decade or something.
I can always see the brighter side of anything. Even when the bad stuff was happening here, I knew that I would be able to make it through. Probably only to survive until the next thing happened, but sometimes you have to take the positive where you can find it.
Even when I was a small child, around four or so, I knew that there was something greater than myself. Some thing that was larger than my personal experience. When I was a few years older and was more in the world, I could see that other people and kids and families did not seem to have the same dynamics as mine did. I did not know what that might be, but other people seemed, well, not exactly happier or anything like that, but more along the lines of being more relaxed. Like they could take a breath and not have to worry about the consequences. I grew older and knew that for a certainty, and kind of also knew that we, my sibs and me, were of doomed to keeping secrets that no one should have to keep.
I am wandering now, but I wonder if distressing childhood experiences create the blueprint for later life. I have read tons of self-help books and psychology texts, so I have a basic understanding of the progression and consequences of all that, but I am thinking more of spiritual consequence or process or something. Sort of like my belief that we, in the time prior to manifesting in this flesh, have the opportunity to know about what it is that we need, and that we choose the time and space, the family, friends and work into which we are born. My daughter says that that belief is my attempt at rationalization, and she may very well be right, but I do not think so. Probably thoughts that are more delusional than healthy, but it seems to me that the terrible things that happen in a life cannot be without purpose or design. Otherwise, how is it possible to have a faith practice if that includes the belief that some all-powerful god or some damn thing is at the helm, directing what happens here on Earth and in our lives.
I cannot, I will not believe in a higher power that allows pain and suffering to happen, much less that he/she/it determines, directs and enforces such things. So, maybe that is why my belief system has prior self direction and decision making in it. Maybe that is why I believe that I chose all of the things that were going to happen in this life. I do know that it informs the way I live and that I am aware that everything I do is my choice and for some greater purpose. And, I think that believing all of this makes it possible to do the right thing for the right reason even if it does not seem to be in my best interest in that moment. I think that that is why I am still in this geography. I need to be here to get my self closer to being the person I want to be and that means staying here and feasting on the crap buffet.
I chose all of this for a reason. I am not sure what that is, but it feels so correct that it is my previous, as well as current, choice. That thought is the one thing around here that does not cause me distress. It is the one thing, the thought, the belief, that calms me when all else fails. This is sounding like fatalism to me, but I still think that it is not. And, this is not what I wanted to write today. I had something else that was holding a lot of energy for me over the past several days, the whole not being prideful thing.
I guess that now I do not have to write about that. I can get dressed, go to the library, get groceries and come home and clean some of the more onerous areas of this house. I cleaned yesterday until I was sweating and exhausted, and it felt great. I am hoping that I can do the same this afternoon. It is forward movement of the highest order and it is crazy how satisfying it can be.
I can always see the brighter side of anything. Even when the bad stuff was happening here, I knew that I would be able to make it through. Probably only to survive until the next thing happened, but sometimes you have to take the positive where you can find it.
Even when I was a small child, around four or so, I knew that there was something greater than myself. Some thing that was larger than my personal experience. When I was a few years older and was more in the world, I could see that other people and kids and families did not seem to have the same dynamics as mine did. I did not know what that might be, but other people seemed, well, not exactly happier or anything like that, but more along the lines of being more relaxed. Like they could take a breath and not have to worry about the consequences. I grew older and knew that for a certainty, and kind of also knew that we, my sibs and me, were of doomed to keeping secrets that no one should have to keep.
I am wandering now, but I wonder if distressing childhood experiences create the blueprint for later life. I have read tons of self-help books and psychology texts, so I have a basic understanding of the progression and consequences of all that, but I am thinking more of spiritual consequence or process or something. Sort of like my belief that we, in the time prior to manifesting in this flesh, have the opportunity to know about what it is that we need, and that we choose the time and space, the family, friends and work into which we are born. My daughter says that that belief is my attempt at rationalization, and she may very well be right, but I do not think so. Probably thoughts that are more delusional than healthy, but it seems to me that the terrible things that happen in a life cannot be without purpose or design. Otherwise, how is it possible to have a faith practice if that includes the belief that some all-powerful god or some damn thing is at the helm, directing what happens here on Earth and in our lives.
I cannot, I will not believe in a higher power that allows pain and suffering to happen, much less that he/she/it determines, directs and enforces such things. So, maybe that is why my belief system has prior self direction and decision making in it. Maybe that is why I believe that I chose all of the things that were going to happen in this life. I do know that it informs the way I live and that I am aware that everything I do is my choice and for some greater purpose. And, I think that believing all of this makes it possible to do the right thing for the right reason even if it does not seem to be in my best interest in that moment. I think that that is why I am still in this geography. I need to be here to get my self closer to being the person I want to be and that means staying here and feasting on the crap buffet.
I chose all of this for a reason. I am not sure what that is, but it feels so correct that it is my previous, as well as current, choice. That thought is the one thing around here that does not cause me distress. It is the one thing, the thought, the belief, that calms me when all else fails. This is sounding like fatalism to me, but I still think that it is not. And, this is not what I wanted to write today. I had something else that was holding a lot of energy for me over the past several days, the whole not being prideful thing.
I guess that now I do not have to write about that. I can get dressed, go to the library, get groceries and come home and clean some of the more onerous areas of this house. I cleaned yesterday until I was sweating and exhausted, and it felt great. I am hoping that I can do the same this afternoon. It is forward movement of the highest order and it is crazy how satisfying it can be.
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