Oh diary, I've missed you!

I swear I almost forgot my username and password.  Almost.

I had to write to record my most epic mini-crisis ever.  I had a complete break down.  It all started a few months ago with my new job....I'm running the show and I'm ex-haus-ted.  Last week I had a sinus infection and bronchitis at the same time...I couldn't take time off work.  Pathetic.  Tonight, I got to Derek's and I had to leave before we could go rock climbing (my first work out in two weeks because of illness)--just to return to work until 8:30.

I ended up back at his place, drinking a glass of wine instead of dinner.

Ultimately, I ended up standing in my kitchen ranting that I was angry. Pissed.  Irate.  I told Kristin I was feeling crazy and wanted to move to another country.

Have you ever felt so ridiculously crazy? I felt like one of the pint size 5 year olds at work having a tantrum.  I envisioned myself stomping and pouting.  I just wanted to be mad.  You want to laugh and cry at the same time.  I'm slightly disappointed and amused at myself.

Top 5:

1. I've been working 80 hours a week without overtime. Burnt out?
2. Derek is moving to LA in 5 weeks
3. I went to my grandmother's funeral this past weekend--my heart is aching.
4. Sinus infection + bronchitis + no sleep
5. Emptying out my grandmother's house..aching.


and number 6..just because
Sunday is Father's day--I wonder if I called you if you would change your mind. I still can't rationalize that I had a father for 21 years and then he just disappeared.  21 years.  21. We haven't spoken in four years.  Oh how much has changed--and yet, some part of me still misses you.

Why am I so damn lonely?

Ouch. I'm completely disconnected from everything going around me.

Do you ever feel like everything is going on around you--without you? I'm physically here, but I'm emotionally absent.  I'm somewhere else.  It's like my heart left me, it went on vacation and never came back.  It doesn't want to be with me. To go through this.

I have this deep, dark grief that is eating away at me.  It's sadness.  I went to Raven's last night for dinner with her grandmother.  It was a bittersweet double edged sword.  Two fold.  One hand, the last time I was at that house, was the night of the attack.  Other hand, Raven and her grandmother were going back and forth about the special bond between a grandmother and granddaughter--the ache in my chest was unparalleled.  I hate my drives.  I have no one to call.

It's like everything is back to normal but me.  Everything is the same but I'm different--even to myself.  I don't know why I feel so isolated.  I feel really, really lonely.  I'm trying not to--I feel like a little kid saying that.  I just feel like a puzzle that was split in half--i'm missing essential pieces.  I think I put up this deep wall between myself and other people when I'm upset.  At night, I have this anxiety in my chest.  I took six anti anxiety pills tonight and I still found myself on edge and frustrated.


I don't want to be alone and it seems like every weekend is a small battle to get through--how to keep myself from these thoughts.  I'm just inexplicably frustrated with everything.  Ick, ick, ick.

In these moments, I want security.  I want stability.  I want to be sure. I don't want everything to be up in the air.  I don't want to be a maybe. I don't want to be totally shutdown.

This is not about a beginning nor an ending. It's about the mysterious inbetween.

This is not about a beginning nor an ending. This is a glimpse into the complicated and rarely easy in between.  This is my painfully honest (incredibly humbling) record of my harrowing collisions with this crazy thing called life.  My story takes place between three dates: December 16, 2006; August 22, 2010; February 9, 2011.

Where is the beginning? The beginning of me, as I am now, would probably start junior year of college at University of Arizona on December 16, 2006.  My father, for lack of better words, broke up with me via e-mail.  I was alone the entire day: with my thoughts, my sadness, my fear--I had no solutions or coping mechanisms.  I was 20 and oblivious to how much sadness you could withstand.  If you've ever been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you, you will know that in the end  there comes a sort of silence. You breathe in and come to terms with your sadness--you strike a deal.  My negotiation was that I would never be helpless or unprepared again like I was that day.  Not to say that this "precautionary" emotional guard is only for relationships--it's for all possible upsets.

I've spent years wishing it was different, he was different, and that I was someone he wanted.  I mistakenly used to think his approval defined my value.   I could not fathom what was so awful about me that I was not worth loving.    Although time may heal wounds, it does not make them invisible..the deep wounds, the ones that hurt the most, leave scars.  In spite of wishing it was different, these scars on my heart are real--you cannot put something broken back together without the damage showing a little.  The scars, however ugly or large, become a part of you.  They compose the geography of your bones, the openness of your smile, and the thickness of your newly reinforced emotional wall.

You can only hope that someday, someone will see you--all of you--and think you're beautiful, not in spite of your scars, but because of them.

Flash forward to August 22nd, 2010.  I was in the midst of teaching English at Chaparral, finishing my final semester of Graduate school..and working at Boys and Girls Club.  Five hour energy was the only thing that made three hours of sleep feasible.  After a series of unfortunate events (namely, my bathroom ceiling caving in) I was staying at a friend's apartment in Tempe.

 It was just like any other Sunday.  We decided to run a few errands in the evening; as we went down the stairs, I kept repeating that I wanted to stay together.  I had a feeling.  This feeling led me to linger at the gas station, sitting in my car, watching the cars fly by in front of me on the road.  I got on the phone and put all my belongings away.  I walked up the stairs and my chest started pounding--everything felt wrong.  He was waiting at the top of the stairs, I ignored the alarm going off in my chest, not wanting to be paranoid.

He began screaming at me and trying to rush into the apartment.

 I finally made it in the door and locked him out behind me--I tried to rationalize that someone had just tried to attack me in the light of day.  Then the pounding started.  I called 911 and wedged my body up against the door screaming at him to go away--I was safe, the door was locked and dead bolted.   When the door started cracking, I told 911 I needed both hands to keep him out and dropped the phone.  The horror of his body coming through the wall and the door, the strength of his rage and the red in his eyes are things that I have tried to block out.  The feeling of utter defeat when no one in neighboring apartments came to help me.  My thoughts spooled like a tape, "This isn't real. This isn't real.  This is a nightmare.  This doesn't happen in real life," to "He's going to kill me. I don't want to die." It was that statement that gave me the surge of strength to escape.

This event stays with me, images that replay instantly when my eyes close.  It is humbling to be in a public place when something or someone triggers a flashback and I begin to shake, my heart thumping in  my ears.  I can't control it.

The event, was the only time I felt like a hero and a coward in the same situation.  I was asked to testify in court and my fear led me to hide behind a facade of words.  An attempt to recount the damage that had been done.  He is more than a criminal, a felony charge, a case of aggravated assault.  What happened to me is more than just a case number.  He changed my life forever--gave me an experience that makes running at night laughable, leaving a door unlocked unthinkable, and walking in parking lots unbearable. The person assigned to my case said, "Your impact statement should really emphasize how this experience has changed you." My computer screen sat blank for days.  I thought of the kids at work who so desperately wanted a hug that I couldn't seem to give them yet.

The humbling part of these "in between" moments is that they can leave you all banged up with no bandages.  You haven't been in the muck long enough to make sense of it, so all you can do is keep breathing and moving.  Sometimes, in the in between you lose your sense of self.  You lose confidence that everything is going to be okay--the light is somewhere, we just can't see it.   We become a stranger, an intruder, an unknown entity in our own body.


I did everything I could to dive back into my "life."  I went back to work and teaching the next day.  I counted to 10 and repeated:

Block it out. Seal it shut.  Lock the lid. 

Forget it. Forget. Him. 

It. Never. Happened. 

Lost in the middle, I failed to make a place in my life for this aberration.  I did not want this scar.  I did not want the event to become a permanent part of me.  There it sat, a large addition to my running list of emotional baggage.  Smited. I envisioned what it would be like to go on a first date with someone,

"Hi, I'm Courtney.  If I seem a little off sometimes it's because I have post traumatic stress and no time to deal with my feelings because I'm determined to finish grad school with a 4.0 while working 60 hours a week."

Quite a catch.  At this point, not even the likes of Millionaire Matchmaker or E-Harmony could help me. I was land locked in limbo.

I knew things were bad when I stopped eating lunch to have more time to work.  Rushing to school in the morning, I had an epiphany on the phone with Jamie, "But..If I didn't have to eat, I'd have so much more time!" -- Leftovers turned into sandwiches which digressed into yogurt and then eventually whittled away to a protein shake.  I knew things had to change when I became the "dealer" of 5-hour energy.  I was like a power-walking advertisement for the stuff, completed by a subtle eye twitch from an inexcusable caffeine addiction. I kept boxes in my desk--coaches and teachers sought me out in the early morning hours when the halls were quiet.  I was "that guy."

My mental intervention wasn't lifetime worthy--but it happened on October 25th in the form of a simple website that had a 10 step cure that brought me back from the trenches:

1. Assess just how busy you’re willing to be.

New research indicates that a key indicator of happiness is the distance between the hours you’d like to work and the hours you actually do. If you don’t want to work more than 40 hours per week because you have a hobby you’re passionate about, but you’re working over three hours more than that, you will inevitably feel dissatisfied.

2. Consider whether your schedule conflicts with your priorities.

When you have internal or external conflict, it’s difficult to maintain your center and sense of joy. If fitness is a priority but you’re working 60 hours a week, leaving you little time to exercise, you will feel conflicted. Even if you want to keep working hard, you’ll feel frustrated that you’re not meeting your own needs.

3. Be sure your goals align with your values.

Most people would prefer not to overwhelm their lives with work, but oftentimes we push ourselves because we have our eye on the prize, so to speak. There’s nothing wrong with having a dream and working toward it; but if you’re going to sacrifice much of your now for later, be sure you’re really headed where you want to go.

4. Find joy in the way things are.

Oftentimes when we’re busy, we’re fixated on the way things can be, should be, or will be on the other side of overexertion. It’s all too easy to get caught up in a race toward some fantasy tomorrow that inevitably will fall short of your expectations. Someday dreams usually do because they’re more about avoiding the present than building the future.

5. Make time for relationships.

Studies have shown that the quality of our relationships correlates directly with our overall sense of happiness. Sometimes while we’re working toward a larger life we forget to do the things that remind us we’re part of something larger than ourselves. We need meaningful contact with other people to feel fully alive. We need interaction, engagement, and the time to just be in the presence of other.

Make time for people, even if it’s just a quick meal. It’s worth sacrificing your working lunch to experience life outside your office.

6. Allow yourself completely disconnected time.

We all need complete breaks from work where we can be fully present in something else. Whether it’s an afternoon at the movies, a yoga class, or a complete day and night of relaxation, compartmentalizing life for a while can be rejuvenating.

7. Say no liberally.

Saying no is hard when you want to please people. You might assume only spineless, needy people struggle with this, but the truth is we all do. None of us want to disappoint people, and on some level we all want approval.

Just like on airplane you need to put your own mask on before helping someone else, we need to take care of our needs before we can even begin to be valuable for other people. We need time to decompress, do what we love, and just plain call the shots, without reacting to other people’s needs.

8. Prioritize rest.

In a perfect world, we’d all sleep eight hours a night. We’re best equipped to handle life’s challenges when we’re not fatigued. But sometimes that’s not an option. When you are exhausted, take care of yourself using these tips to function better when you’re tired.

To the best of your ability, take time to nap, meditate, or practice deep breathing. A past yoga instructor once told me a certain pose was the equivalent of a good night’s sleep. I don’t know if I believe that entirely, but I do know certain yoga poses help me shut off my mind to fall asleep sooner at night.

9. Expel less mental energy.

This is a good practice in life in general—one I need to constantly work at—but it’s especially helpful when you’re busy. If your circumstances seem a little overwhelming, your inner state may start to parallel that. You may over-analyze, worry about every little decision, stress over whether you’re doing the right things.

Trust your gut. Learn and adjust as you go, but give yourself a break from the constant overanalyzing—whether the meeting went well enough, or your report was detailed enough, or if you sales calls are compelling enough. Don’t make yourself do the work twice—once in the doing and again in the rehashing.

10. Embrace the chaos.

Nobody forces us to live busy lives. We do it because we want to feel a sense of purpose, commitment, and accomplishment. You may have to maintain a full schedule out of obligation—kids to feed or loans to pay off—but there are a lot of things we could sacrifice if we truly wanted a simpler life.

If you’ve chosen to do various different things, engage with many people, and strive toward numerous goals, realize a lot will feel out of control at times. The more elements you introduce to your life, the more unpredictable the days will be. Sometimes the uncertainty is both the most exciting and terrifying part. Choose to focus on the former. Why fight the game you’ve chosen to play?

After everything, the universe tried to make amends with me--I did graduate with that 4.0 and I also landed my ideal job.  My mantra changed from denial to positivity, my mother told me the night of the attack, "You can either choose to be a victim or choose to move on." I moved on. 

Transition to February 9th.  After a week of strange conversations with my grandmother, I got a call that she had suffered a massive stroke.  The next day I learned that the strongest woman I had ever met would not recover this time.  My heart sank to the floor and I think it might still be there somewhere in the lobby of my work.  One of those moments where you nod your head but no words come out of your mouth.  Reality started to hit me and I found myself scrambling not to fall apart.  If I went home, I would fall apart. If I was alone, I'd fall apart.

My grandmother has been the most important person in my life. She's the voice on the other end of the line that reminds me what life is really about, she's my compass and without her I already feel so lost.  

She passed away on Valentine's Day.  It's always been my favorite holiday, for no real reason other than I think there is something wonderful about finding a small way to say I love you to the people you care about.  I haven't let myself cry yet...partially because my gut tells me this is not the time for tears.  This is the time to celebrate the life of a woman who painted the town red, lit up every space with her smile, and made each person she spoke to feel as if they were the most important person in the room.   Her name was Estelle but she went by a nickname, Polly.  Oddly, for someone who didn't even like her own name she was insistent that my name would be Estelle ( I kind of wish it was..).   She drank whiskey, wore red lip stick, and had an unforgettable laugh (followed by a snort and, 'I love it! I love it!').  She drove like a bat out of hell, once she crashed into a jewelry store.

Maybe that is a good place to start when I tell you about my grandmother.  She had a yellow convertible.  Bright yellow.  When I was a kid, I would sit in the black leather and pretend I was driving fast along the coast--just like my grandmother in a fashionable hat and scarf.  I loved being her passenger.  She drove into a jewelry store in her little town by the river and managed to have new friends by the end of the collision and a brand new ring.  My own mother shook her head and whispered, "that's grandma for you."  She was larger than life.  She's been my world for the past 24 years.

Driving with my grandmother was always an experience.  Every one in my family has the turkish evil eye in their car; I was always mortified as my grandma would flash the "evil eye" to people who cut her off.  Oddly enough, I too have one in my car now and smile every time I see it (I have yet to flash it..but maybe in her honor I'll start).  She used to pick us up from the airport and I would itch in excitement, thinking about all the adventures we were about to have.   As a pint sized person, I spent my days writing stories, picking blackberries, sizzling snails with salt, making bouquets of flowers, stomping on apples in the orchard, digging for gold in the creek, climbing trees and playing dress up in the world's most fantastic closet.  My grandmother has wonderful stories of her travels.  She has been all over the world--she even went to the Amazon.  Her home was filled with special pieces from all over the world--she really did this life thing right.

 She never lived in the in between, she lived only in the now.  

She once told me (over a glass of bourbon when discussing law school and life), that if I was able--I should get married atleast twice.  She said that each marriage is like a life.  Experience as many different types of life as you can ( my mother still refutes her saying this..but it's delightfully true).  Equally entertaining was another late night when I inquired about her cheetah print bed sheets, she replied with her infamous smirk and a laugh, "Well, at my age you need some excitement in the bedroom."  When she was in Egypt, she rode a camel in a pencil skirt and heels.  She is fabulous.

My grandmother always told me two things:

1. Everyday is a good day depending on the way you look at it

and

2. "Watch out for the other guy" when discussing driving...and life. 

People have told me to distract myself, to keep busy.  I've tried.  Tonight was the first night since the 9th that I've been all alone.  What I've come to realize is that grief is isolating and lonely. It doesn't go away; it's yours, step for step, breath for breath.   Grief is forever--I will never stop grieving because I will never stop loving the people I've lost. Grief and love are seemingly conjoined, they are not mutually exclusive.  Like our scars, our grief stays with us..but here's hoping it can be beautiful too.

I wish my story could be wrapped up in a neat bow--with an overarching theme, witticism and life lesson, but the truth is, as I get older--I realize I don't have much of anything figured out.  Both unfortunately and fortunately...the answers are not in the back of the book of life.  Here's hoping for cliff notes.

This is not the time for tears.  This is the time to celebrate the life of a woman who painted the town red, lit up every space with her smile, and made each person she spoke to feel as if they were the most important person in the room.  There are very few people in this world who can be picking snails off flowers in their garden one moment, and then throwing a chic cocktail party the next; toasting with Mint Juleps underneath the summer stars.  Her name was Estelle but she went by a nickname, Polly.  I never knew who they were talking about at her garden parties.  She drank whiskey, wore red lip stick, and had an unforgettable laugh (followed by a snort and, 'I love it! I love it!').  She drove like a bat out of hell, once into a jewelry store.

Maybe that is a good place to start when I tell you about my grandmother.  She had a yellow convertible.  Bright yellow.  When I was a kid, I would sit in the black leather and pretend I was driving fast along the coast--just like my grandmother in a fashionable hat and scarf.  I loved being her passenger.  She drove into a jewelry store in her little town by the river and managed to have new friends by the end of the collision and a brand new ring.  My own mother shook her head and whispered, "that's grandma for you."  She was larger than life.  She's been my world for the past 24 years.

Driving with my grandmother was always an experience.  Every one in my family has the turkish evil eye in their car; I was always mortified as my grandma would flash the "evil eye" to people who cut her off.  Oddly enough, I too have one in my car now and smile every time I see it (I have yet to flash it..but maybe in her honor I'll start).  She used to pick us up from the airport and I would itch in excitement, thinking about all the adventures we were about to have.   As a pint sized person, I spent my days writing stories, picking blackberries, sizzling snails with salt, making bouquets of flowers, stomping on apples in the orchard, digging for gold in the creek, climbing trees and playing dress up in the world's most fantastic closet.  My grandmother has wonderful stories of her travels.  She has been all over the world--she even went to the Amazon.  Her home was filled with special pieces from all over the world--she really did this life thing right.  After I graduated from U of A, my grandmother pulled out the first story I ever wrote, entitled "The Ugliest Girl In The Whole Entire World." This girl had green vomit breath and scraggly teeth.  It was seven pages long and typed on her old school typewriter.  She went to U of A and took pride in stating that she was the oldest living alumnae--she really wanted to go to homecoming.

My grandmother's estate was called Seven Gates.

As far as I've ever been concerned, the world could cease to exist beyond them.   Everything I needed was there.  My grandmother created the garden from nothing.  She had three rose gardens and endless nooks and crannies filled with exotic flowers.  I was Alice in Wonderland.  Nothing could hurt me behind those white gates.  As a little girl, I pictured myself getting married here.  She once told me (over a glass of bourbon when discussing law school and life), that if I was able--I should get married atleast twice.  She said that each marriage is like a life.  Experience as many different types of life as you can ( my mother still refutes her saying this..but it's delightfully true).  Equally entertaining was another late night when I inquired about her cheetah print bed sheets, she replied with her infamous smirk and a laugh, "Well, at my age you need some excitement in the bedroom."  When she was in Egypt, she rode a camel in a pencil skirt and heels.  She is fabulous.

You know when people tell you to close your eyes and picture yourself in your "happy place"? These memories of her and the garden are it.  Forever and always.

So as difficult as it is to think about waking up tomorrow to my new reality, I know that I must do it and do it with a smile.  My grandmother always told me two things:

1.Everyday is a good day depending on the way you look at it

and

2. "watch out for the other guy" when discussing driving...and life.

So despite this hurt in my heart--I'm going to celebrate the love she gave me to me and everyone she knew on the day she passed away.  Valentine's Day will always be my most favorite day...it's about telling the people you care about you love them.  What an incredible woman..what an incredible life..how lucky I am to have been loved by you.

What a terrible day...

You know those mornings where you wake up and you just have this gnawing ache? I couldn't shake it.  The sun was shining...the weather was warm...life was in motion...and I was just anxious. My whole drive to work this morning I was biting my lips, trying to leave the feeling behind in my rear view mirror.

My boss was gone today, so I was in charge of running our full time meeting.  My morning was already off to a rocky start (my overnight order ended up not going through because they didn't receive a shipment...) and I left my phone out during the meeting in case my boss called me.  We have been trying to hire someone and after tons of glitches, today was the day it was supposed to happen.  Needless to say, paperwork got lost and we started back at ground zero.  Pointless except I never have my phone out.  Two employees were out and I was waiting on their "confirmation" of illness via text.

The last number I expected on my caller ID was my grandma.

I ultimately ended up answering, debating the etiquette of taking a personal call during a meeting.  My grandmother had had a stroke shortly before and had been taken in an ambulance.  My heart sank to the floor and I think it might still be there somewhere in the lobby.  One of those moments where you nod your head but no words come out of your mouth.  Reality started to hit me and I found myself scrambling to not fall apart.  If I went home, I would fall apart. If I am alone, I'll fall apart.

I've been distracting myself all day.  The truth is, i'm terrified that my grandmother is gone.  I can't confront that just yet.  I'm terrified. She's the most important person. She's the voice on the other end of the line that reminds me what life is really about, she's my compass and without her I already feel so lost.  This horrible, horrible gnawing ache.

Derek came over to cook dinner and I found myself prepping the food and dropping things all over the floor.  I forgot the main ingredient I needed, even though I went to the store to get it,  and ended up having to message to pick it up for me.  Immediately after, I spilt my vitamins all over the floor and down my shirt.  I wanted to just sit on the floor and cry in an absolute tantrum.  In my desperate attempt to function, I didn't acknowledge what my body was so obviously trying to tell me--you're not fine. This is not fine.  I didn't cry cutting onions, I didn't cry when I overcooked the noodles.  I didn't cry when he asked me how I was doing.

I started crying over the wrong DVD.

I picked up a blu-ray DVD instead of a normal one, and I sat on the floor and looked up at him and just started to cry.  It was a humbling moment. I tried to stop crying as soon as I could muster up the strength, and I asked him, "are you every afraid if you let yourself cry you'd never be able to stop?"

Sometimes that's my fear.  That if I really let myself cry about my grandmother, the attack, my dad...I'd never stop.

 I ate my feelings today.  I swallowed my grief in an array of sugary treats.  My sobs were suppressed with two (three) miniature pink donuts from Starbucks.  My depression was smooshed in between two graham crackers and nutella.  My eyes ache.

Armed with lackluster emotional coping mechanisms, I turned to the Dalai Lama.  Tonight's chapter was coincidentally 'Facing Suffering,' this is the advice that i'm applying as ointment to my heart break:

"It's no use to worry too much, and if I really loved these people, then I must fulfill their wishes with a  calm mind.  So I try my best to do that.  So I think if you've lost someone who is very dear to you, that's the proper way to approach it.  You see, the best way to keep a memory of that person, the best remembrance, is to see if you can carry on the wishes of that person."  I don't remember my grandmother ever not being positive or smiling, 'every day is a good day depending on how you look at it.'

That horrible, horrible gnawing ache.

My mom offered to buy me a ticket to come this weekend.  I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to face this. I want to be there for my grandmother, but I don't think I could handle her not remembering me or being able to talk to me.  I'm afraid I'll vomit or start sobbing uncontrollably.  I'm afraid.  I'm afraid, I'm afraid.  I wish I could press a button that could heal everything.  Facing suffering.  The hardest, most daunting thing.  I just keep thinking, 'carry on the wishes of that person'...my grandmother is tough as nails, capable of anything.  Some part of me knows that I have no choice but to be strong enough to face this, to deal with this, to confront this sadness.  I just don't want to. I don't want it to be real.  I want it to be a bad dream, when I wake up tomorrow...it'll all just be a dream.

There is a positive that lays in the negative of the traumatic experience. When we are triggered and re-experience the trauma; we are given the change to let light into that room and see the experience emotionally and spiritually. As we embrace our trauma, it becomes our medicine---a positive force. 'Making light of the dark' is the binding force that can help empower you. When we understand that, the violence no longer owns us. the traumatic experience is revealed and knowing this you are at peace---the trauma is no longer a threat to your present consciousness.

What do you think...

What do you think about this quote:

I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.

and...

"What we need to know about loving is no great mystery. We all know what constitutes loving behavior; we need but act upon it, not continually question it. Over-analysis often confuses the issue and in the end brings us no closer to insight. We sometimes become too busy classifying, separating, and examining, to remember that love is easy. It's we who make it complicated." - Leo F. Buscaglia 

and..

Only those who avoid love can avoid grief. The point is to learn from grief and remain vulnerable to love.

and...

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable." 

I wrote once that I would never open myself up to feel that disappointment and pain again.  I wrote not about a heartbreak, but about my father.  I talk about him so stoically now.  Years later, I have succeeded in becoming emotionally removed from the situation.  Most situations that involve a loss.  I can talk about him, but I don't feel him.  It must be some sort of survival instinct that kicked in with me; I won't let myself grieve or feel sadness.  My mother's words after the attack ring in my ears, "You can either choose to move forward or choose to be a victim." I remember refusing to crack emotionally under the pressure.  I'll never forget the frustration I felt in front of a classroom, trying to control my shaking voice.  I wondered how long my voice would shake when I spoke, so weak and intimidated.  Faces of 17 year olds, staring at you, thinking you're just nervous to be in front of them.  I wish it would have been that easy.  I always feel this pressure that it is unacceptable to not just magically be okay.  There is no cure all for wounds, particularly wounds of the heart.  Sometimes in life it seems as if we are just left to put ointment on our scars when we're alone, and in public we just cover them up as if it never happened.  A secret healing process no one talks about.   

I see other people in pain and I just want them to feel better.  Unfortunately, I think that I do that by trying to be strong for them--as if I can't mourn a loss with them because I want them to feel as if things are okay.  It's so hard to explain.  I'm just not sure when this transition happened.  Maybe it came out of frustration that life never stopped when I needed that pause.  My friends had things going on in their own lives that put my personal struggles on the back burner (as is true with life in general).  I guess I didn't want to get life behind, as if staying present in that sadness kept me from leaving it in the past.  In the past, where I so desperately wanted it to be.  Away from me. 

I've been dating someone and I realized that I've never exposed my "weaker" side.  Not once.  I didn't fumble when I answered their questions about my father, I didn't cry when I talked about the attack.  I don't want anyone to see me...to really see me, unless they are really going to stay with me.  I shared so much of myself with Jeff and Jason--and it opened me up to criticism and discomfort.  With Jeff, at the end I didn't feel as if there was room for two wounded people..and with Jason, he couldn't understand my wounds.  Eric actually just wiped his hands clean of me and my "stuff." You can't really reveal yourself as a total mess when you're beginning to date.  The truth is, i'm not a total mess, but life hurts sometimes.  The fact that I have no, zero, relationship with my Dad after three years is just sad.  I've moved on and I'm okay, but he's not in my life.  A whole history of my life is gone now.  Christmas mornings, learning how to drive a car, dinner with my Nanny, driving to the lake, camping, going to Oakland A's games.  

Relief--the memories, and that gnawing ache.  I'm not actually a robot, I'm just...reinforced and hiding. 

Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement.  


We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy.


The glue that holds all relationships together - including the relationship between; the leader and the led is trust, and trust is based on integrity.


Distrust all those who love you extremely upon a very slight acquaintance and without any visible reason.

Since I can't sleep..

I always catch myself thinking..what was I doing at this moment last year.  Where was I? Have I made any progress? Well, since I was writing about paternal relationships, I stumbled upon my entry from February 26th of 2010.  It was just after a terrible fight with J.  I was blind sighted by his aggressive stance on my relationship with my father.  I had to walk away from him in that moment; confused and wounded.  He contemplated breaking up with me because of my loose ends with my father.  I can tell you now looking back on my story with J, that that was the moment I knew we were going to have an ending.  This is what I wrote to him, I'm not sure if I could even tap into that emotion about my father anymore...:

It happened on December 16th, 2006.  I had just finished studying for finals, fortunately I had/have never been good at keeping up on emails because my Dad wrote to me to tell me "Eventually being self-centered like your mother will not lead you to a life of happiness. and Happiness is the key to life.  I will no longer contact you."  I sat on the couch in my apartment, watching the shadows move across the wall as the day passed.  My fingers punched send into my cell phone--no one answered. Everyone had left school for winter break, and because bad news never has good timing, I spent the day struggling with how to pull it together.  I write "my fingers" because that day, everything was out of body.  I saw myself, but I couldn't help myself.  It was like I was crippled by hurt.  I was alone the entire day, with my thoughts, my sadness, my fear, I had no solutions.  I just remember crying, crying until I fell asleep--wishing to wake up to a bad dream.  I'm embarrassed writing it.  I always feel like I have to validate the 6 month depression I fell into, because i'm not a weak person, but I felt weak.  I felt helpless.   I think that's why I am always bracing myself for the impact your words could have on me--I don't want to feel helpless, unprepared again like I was that day.  Not to say that this "precautionary" emotional guard is only for you--it's for all possible upsets.  Fortunately, these days there isn't as much hurt to anticipate--my major reinforcement periods are around holidays...I used to open cards from my Dad, curl up on my bed and cry.  It was the moments I was most disappointed in myself and my inability to protect myself. 

Remember when we would talk about people using relationships as band-aids? I still believe that--that you have to be a whole person before you can be in a relationship; happy with yourself before you can be happy with someone else.   What I'm coming to realize, but not fully accept, is that perhaps me being a "whole" person does not imply that I'm perfect or without "baggage." I have tried very hard to move into what you described as a "healthy" place with my relationship with my father.  I never dealt with it well, sometimes it meant not dealing with it all, and other times that meant becoming overwhelmed by it.   Now, I am at a point of acceptance--not would of, could of, should of..just is.  That's all I can do, and it's my best.  I stumble every so often, like when I went postal after deciding to send my father a Christmas card.  I hated that you didn't know where that was coming from.  I felt so frustrated, feeling possibly inadvertently judged--and I didn't mean to put you in that position, maybe some part of me wishes you could be that person for me innately.   Because however you may feel about my situation--being without him is best for me.  I write that without hesitation--I feel it with every fiber of my body. I need you to know this too for when I forget, slip and start to unravel.  I have spent my whole life being told I'm not good enough ( a 3rd grader should not feel that they have to have a work out regime)--and I no longer want to enable someone to make me feel like I'm not good enough.  I somehow needed you to be the omniscient person that tells me "It's not your fault."  The person who fights on my side, because at the end of the day you believe in me. You wouldn't know this, but despite your impressions that I'm cold or closed off to my father--it's quite the opposite, I've spent years wishing it was different, he was different, and that I was someone he wanted.  I mistakenly used to think his approval defined my value, I could not fathom what was so awful about me that I was not worth loving.  I became tired of playing the "victim" role, of feeling sorry for myself and my situation.  This is another reason I disdain talking about my Dad as much as it is a part of my day to day existence--because playing the victim is not the part I want to play in my life's stage.  The pain I feel embarrasses me.  

Hanging onto resentment is letting someone you despise live rent-free in your head.
-- Ann Landers

The way I was brought up, something within me, feels that crying lets him win.  I can imagine this ideology is rooted in some pep talk my mother gave me about pre teen girls.  I applied it to my Dad--I did not want him to "live rent-free in my head."  Wishing things were different does not move me forward, it does not change the past, it just makes me discontent with now.   This is why when you asked me "If I would feel bad" I automatically inserted "if my dad and i never had a relationship" and the truth is--I will not, because I cannot.  I cannot continue to punish myself for something that happened to me as a bystander.  I intuitively feel that you would question my use of "bystander"--but in truth, my relationship with my dad was always something that happened to me, I was never able to be part of it.  It was never on my terms or about me.  I spent my childhood trying to make him "proud" of me--I always wanted to be athletic enough, pretty enough, smart enough--and I was never enough.  I have an "I'll show you attitude" because I want to be enough, even if it's just for me.  I know that you and I share a unique bond, an unspoken kinship, a knowing look that said "I get it," from very early on.  So when you speak, I listen.  I felt that something had been frayed when you spoke with such conviction about a past I had attempted to  protect so ardently from you--I am so distant from the girl I was back then, that having you see me fall apart was a collision of the past and the present I wrestle with submerging all the time. 

I've never lost "control" like I did with you when you were pushing me about my Dad.  I just never wanted you to be the one to disapprove of my choices that I've worked so hard to make peace with.  I am not, and more than likely will never, be at a place to calmly, and unemotionally, discuss "resolution" or "gestures" my Dad makes because there will always be a small girl within me who wants nothing more than for her dad to really love her.  I truly cringe reading things like that because it sounds, and to some extent is, hopelessly pathetic.  Spending your life thinking of "what could have been" is enough to kill you.  It's a weaker side of me, a detriment to the woman I want to be.  

Letting go doesn’t mean giving up, but rather accepting that there are things that cannot be.

-- Anon

Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over.
-- Gloria Naylor 

Part of me wishes you could inherently know all my weaknesses, sore spots, and silent struggles. It seems crazy, but I tried hard to leave the past in the past, particularly before starting to date you.  I wanted to enter into this, only as "me", not with the girl who feebly took so long to pick up the pieces of a broken life.  It partially seems stupid, trying to roll over sad moments. I know that realistically--it is part of life, crying is normal, etc, etc...but I guess I don't want you to see me as anything other than strong and capable, the two things I have worked so hard to be. 

Recipe that must be made..

Curry-Spiced Noodles Recipe :) 

Use only the lower bulb of the lemongrass stalk, and remove the tough outer leaves before chopping.

Total: 35 minutes
Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 1 1/2 cups noodle mixture, about 4 teaspoons cilantro, and 1 tablespoon cashews)

Ingredients

• 8  ounces  dry udon noodles (thick, round Japanese wheat noodles) or spaghetti
• 4  teaspoons  peanut oil, divided
• 2  cups  julienne-cut carrot
• 2  cups  julienne-cut red bell pepper
• 1  cup  julienne-cut green bell pepper
• 4  cups  thinly sliced shiitake mushroom caps (about 8 ounces)
• 3  tablespoons  chopped peeled fresh lemongrass
• 1  tablespoon  grated peeled fresh ginger
• 1  tablespoon  red curry paste
• 2  teaspoons  ground cumin
• 1  teaspoon  ground turmeric
• 8  garlic cloves, minced
• 1  cup  organic vegetable broth
• 1/2  cup  water
• 2  teaspoons  lower-sodium soy sauce
• 1/4  teaspoon  kosher salt
• 3  green onions, thinly sliced
• 1/3  cup  cilantro leaves
• 1/4  cup  chopped dry-roasted, unsalted cashews

Preparation

1. Cook noodles according to package directions, omitting salt and fat. Set noodles aside; keep warm.

2. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add 2 teaspoons peanut oil to pan; swirl to coat. Add carrot to pan; sauté 2 minutes. Add bell peppers; sauté 2 minutes. Remove carrot mixture from pan.

3. Heat the remaining 2 teaspoons oil in pan over medium-high heat; swirl to coat. Add mushrooms; sauté for 2 minutes. Add lemongrass and the next 5 ingredients (through garlic); cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Add broth, 1/2 cup water, soy sauce, and salt. Bring to a boil; cover, reduce heat, and simmer for 2 minutes or until slightly thick. Add noodles, carrot mixture, and onions; cook for 2 minutes, tossing to combine. Divide noodle mixture evenly among 4 bowls; top with cilantro and cashews.

I think sometimes the unknown could be equated to a bad dream.

So, here we are, back in this "transitional" stage of life.  When will life not be all about transitions? Probably never.  I guess I need to get used to it...embrace it (I laugh as I write that..not my style). Why are beginnings so scary? All beginnings--relationships, work, adventures--have some sort of grip on your my gut.  I think they are so scary because they are unknown.  They are a risk.  They have no guarantee.  There is no crystal ball to assure me that the choice I made was the right one; because after all, no one wants to realize two months down the road that they made the wrong choice.  Some people love that adrenaline rush that comes with taking a chance, others...are like Linus when his blanket is in the dryer.  Vulnerable.

Tonight I made a conscience effort to get back into the gym.  It is the one place where my mind is uninterrupted for an hour.  I came home, curled up on the couch with Kristin, and had my very first Bachelor experience.   It was much more intriguing than I expected--firstly, the poor guy had "commitment" issues from his previous season; secondly, he's gorgeous and 'honest.'  It's relatively fascinating to watch the social norms at work within the Bachelor house.  There are desperate women, shy women, bitchy women, and just painfully awkward women.  One woman has fangs.  I laughed so hard I cried at the absurdity of the situation.  Flipping fangs.   Upon not receiving a rose, a couple of the contestants cried.  At first I scoffed at their "attachment" to him, but then I realized, If I was rejected over someone with fangs--I'd probably cry too.  Flipping faaaaangs.

One thing I liked about the Bachelor was his openness about his non-existent relationship with his father.  This absence led him to have 'trust' issues with women.  Hm.  I couldn't help but wonder if I too was carrying these trust issues into my relationships.  History would say yes.  I hate that.  I hate carrying around baggage without realizing with it--all these years, so heavy.  Is every man a shady? I still can't write no without that doubt entering my mind.  The last thing I want to be is cynical.  Relationships are a vulnerability.  Getting hurt is a very real possibility.  I guess that's the risk.  I looked up an article about women who lose their paternal figure early in life to divorce or death, a few interesting points/patterns:

Females who lose their fathers to divorce or abandonment seek much more attention from men and had more physical contact with boys their age than girls from intact homes. They also tend to be more critical of their fathers and the opposite sex. These females constantly seek refuge for their missing father and as a result there is a constant need to be accepted by men from whom they aggressively seek attention (Grimm-Wassil, 1994, p. 147).

   Daughters of divorce sought attention from men more often, reported being the most active sexually and had the lowest self-esteem. The effects of early father separation were more profound than later separation. While she  noted different coping patterns in girls who had lost their fathers through death than in those whose loss was through divorce, she proposed that for both groups the lack of opportunity for constructive interaction with a loving, attentive father resulted in apprehension and inadequate skills in relating to men.

Girls with absent fathers grow up without the day-by-day experience of attentive, caring and loving interaction with a man. Without this continuous sense of being valued and loved, a young girl does not thrive, but rather is stunted in her emotional development. The coping mechanisms that adolescent girls whose parents are divorced develop in response to the absence of their father include the following (Lohr, Legg, Mendell, and Reimer, 1989, p. 352):

•  Intensified separation anxiety
•  Denial and avoidance of feelings associated with the loss of a father
•  Identification with the lost object
•  Object hunger for males

The negative effects later in life have been well documented, with numerous studies indicating that girls from fatherless families develop more promiscuous attitudes and experience difficulty in forming or maintaining romantic relations later in their development (Lohr, Legg, Mendell and Reimer, 1989, p. 354). These behavioral patterns are carried with them into womanhood and may be the cause of their unfulfilling relationships with men

Fatherless daughters tend to fall into one of two categories, the overachievers and the underachievers. The overachievers strive to attain a bachelor's degree, master's degree and even a Ph.D. They need to have a sense of control, making sure they reach their greatest potential. They become overachievers believing that if they accomplish more their fathers will accept them. The underachievers on the other hand are satisfied with either a high school diploma or a bachelor's degree, rarely excelling beyond that point. Typically underachievers are those who drop out of college or never attempt college. Coma (2000) suggests that fatherless daughters infrequently fall in between the two extremes presented.

Pretty interesting.  I never thought my strive to earn my Ph.D by the time I was 30 would be related to that internal need to look at my father and say, "I'll show you." But it's true.  I do have this "I'll show you attitude." That's part of the reason I went to Spain.  To show him what I was capable of doing.  That I was interesting, self-sufficient, and capable.  Relationships--the continual head slaps--the one thing I wish I could just release into the universe.  My 2011 mantra, trust in the universe.  Trust in the universe.  Trust. That's a big one.

Work in progress..


Side note, found this incredible blog called http://bunsinmyoven.com/ ; she has the most delectable recipes.  Tonight I made these brownies...this was my second batch and much tastier than the first.  I used a pinch less flour and a pinch more cocoa. Yummy!

Sweet dreams, thank goodness tomorrow is already Wednesday.  I see myself, pool side on Saturday :)

I'm GOING to finish my book.

My goal is to write three new pages this weekend.  Edit the chapters I don't like...poor Chapter Three.  Sometimes I'm tempted to delete the whole thing and start fresh.  I'm so different from the girl who started transcribing her experiences two years ago.

I suppose my haphazard dating experiences will make a quality climax...sweet memories:

Jeff--ultimate douchelord.  Classic, "I love you, I see myself spending the rest of my life with you" and oh by the way, I'm on the verge of an identity crisis and emotional sex change.

J--The dangers of dating someone who defines their self as selfish. When routine turns dangerous.

TP--Possible crack head.  I just want my brownies and my dignity back.

Eric-Reality--people do not change.  They just grow older..and in some drastic cases, regress into a state of immaturity, texting "I want to snuggle."

My hide out.

Sometimes I want to hide under the covers.  Keep the universe at a safe distance, tucked away in my world of white.  I want to hide away from the world I so desperately seek to explore.

It was dusk and I sat on the bench with a 4th grader named Maya.  She told me she feels confused and she started crying.  She didn't feel safe at her Mom's house and her mom would cry when she said she wanted to go back to her Dad's house.  She sleeps on the floor with a blanket.  She loses her belongings in the shuffle between her parents' homes, feeling guilty and insecure that she isn't responsible enough.  She told me she can't tell anyone her "things" but me.  She held my hand the rest of the afternoon, listening to my stories of 'guilt' and 'confusion' about my own parents' fighting.  Mom threatens to call the police on Dad (and did once) and Maya is afraid her Dad will lose custody of her.  I promised her that no one would take her from her Dad without her consent.  I hate that I can't be there to hold her hand the rest of the weekend at her Mom's house.  She has nightmares there.  She told me about the nightmares one day and we sat huddled on the floor while she cried--this was when I first realized I was where I needed to be.

She loves her father and trusts in him.  I read about men like this--I watch them in movies.  The man who will grab your hand when you threaten to leave, seeing behind your strong facade--the man who will love you.  Really love you.

Random musings.

Quote for thought:

 “On a deeper level you are already complete. When you realize that, there is a playful, joyous energy behind what you do.”

 -Eckhart Tolle

In my mind, I'm a photographer.  I stop during the day and I think, "Now this would be an incredible shot." I envision myself with a fantastic Nikon, stopping strangers to capture life in 3 x 5. I wish I could be one of those people who wears many hats, I would be a photographerchefdecoratingrealestateagentsocialworkerpsychologistseahorsetrainertravelingjournaliststepfordhousewifeprofessorofenglish extraordinaire.


As a photographer, I would show off my work in a glamorous photo wall--mine would be still shots of my travels done something like this...

I've been feeling antsy lately, you know that feeling that causes you to look over your shoulder and wring your hands when you have a minute to yourself? I'm feeling lost in the shuffle of life.  I probably sound like the typical bourgeoisie young adult, craving some sort of spiritual purpose.  I'm not living up to my potential.  Stuck in neutral.  I'm not challenged. Stagnant. Yuck. I want change but I can't say how much change.  I found this program, International Educators for Africa--my hankering for travel led me to look at Chile, Thailand, Korea, and Africa.  I think about my life and what I want in the next few years--I want to settle into a routine but also experience new adventures.  A walking checkerboard of wants and needs that cancel one another out.  I'm in a weird place of transitions...when will I be okay with not having it all figured out? 

"There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person." -Anais Nin

In these times where I work myself into a mental frenzy (that ends up being nothing but a passing phase),  I turn to books like "The Art of Happiness" by The Dalai Lama and "Don't Sweat The Small Stuff." I also turn to culinary exploits.  My goal this weekend is to make Lemon Cream Pie:

Frozen Lemon Cream Pie
This is one of the easiest and tastiest pies I have ever made. If you're not the best baker, just try making this pie and you will fool everyone into thinking you are an award-winning pie maker.

INGREDIENTS:
(For the crust)
2 Cups finely crushed graham cracker crumbs
1/3 Cup sugar
1/4 Teaspoon kosher salt
8 Tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

(For the filling)
One 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
4 Extra large egg yolks
2 Tablespoons grated lemon zest
1/3 Cup sugar
3/4 Cup fresh lemon juice

(For the topping)
Whipped Cream
Candied Lemon Peel

METHOD:
For the Crust 
Preheat oven to 350°F.

In a medium bowl, combine the graham cracker crumbs, sugar and salt. Stir in butter.

Transfer to a 9-inch tart pan. Evenly press the bottom and up the sides to make a crust (I use a metal measuring cup to press the crumbs).

Bake 12 Minutes. Let cool completely.

For the Filling
In a large bowl, combine the condensed milk, egg yolks, sugar, lemon zest and juice. Whisk until all the ingredients are completely blended. Pour the filling into the cooled crust.

Freeze for at least 2 hours.

For the topping
Top with whipped cream and garnish with candied lemon peel.

8 Servings
Inactive prep time: 30 minutes to cool crust, 2 hours to freeze
Cook time: 12 minutes

Baby steps, right? The other thing is that I'm not sure if it is intuition or skepticism--I keep waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath me in my current dating situation.  So far, so good.  I just am waiting for 'the catch.' It seems in life that there is always a catch.  In the past it always ends up being something--or perhaps, rather, a case of something being someone else.  I'm the type of person where if I'm dating you than I'm not dating other people...when does that become the standard? I also know that if I'm dating someone and I find out they are dating someone else I'm immediately turned off.  Ick.  Deep breaths and baby steps.  And faith that my romantic life will not end up as haphazardly as my book. Can things really just be good and normal and not shady? Here's hoping. I'm exhausted from the dating dilemmas of 2010. 

 

2011 wisdom :)

1. Right View. The right way to think about life is to see the world through the eyes of the Buddha--with wisdom and compassion.

2. Right Thought. We are what we think. Clear and kind thoughts build good, strong characters.

3. Right Speech. By speaking kind and helpful words, we are respected and trusted by everyone.

4. Right Conduct. No matter what we say, others know us from the way we behave. Before we criticize others, we should first see what we do ourselves.

5. Right Livelihood. This means choosing a job that does not hurt others. The Buddha said, "Do not earn your living by harming others. Do not seek happiness by making others unhappy."

6. Right Effort. A worthwhile life means doing our best at all times and having good will toward others. This also means not wasting effort on things that harm ourselves and others.

7. Right Mindfulness. This means being aware of our thoughts, words, and deeds.

8. Right Concentration. Focus on one thought or object at a time. By doing this, we can be quiet and attain true peace of mind.



The chapter of 2010 is closed, "And so we turn the page over. To think of starting. This is all there is."   Learn from our mistakes.  Hm. What have I learned? What do I still need to learn?

2010 Lessons 

Not having a plan does not make you a failure
Fall in love slowly
Be aware of your surroundings; listen to your fateful gut
Take time for yourself
Don't take anything personally
Make sure the person you are dating is someone you respect
Sometimes being a friend simply means unconditional support
Speak with integrity (after listening....)

2011 Works In Progress

Finish the book!
Be less critical of yourself
Be who you are and say what you feel...because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind :)
Follow your heart.

I really should write a book.

I really should write a book.  The book I would..will..write would...will... cover the span of my many complicatedbutpassionateyethumblingandsometimesokaybutusuallytragic relationships.  My mother reiterated to me over dinner tonight, "you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else." This is the lesson I have re-learned over the past few months.

Outside of my mother, I have two very strong women in my life: Jamie and Kristin.  They are different but the same.  They are both classy, independent, honest, and compassionate women.  They are also both very patient for listening to me as I stumbled and tripped, mostly over myself, the past couple months.   Both of them have navigated the treacherous dating field and found respectable nice guys to date.  At the end of the day, I look at their relationships and I realize that I want something that just works too.   They've had their fair share of dating disasters (like we all have) and they never settled for just for now.  I cannot make something work, or make someone get their act together, I can only make the best of the circumstances.  I was driving in my car, discussing everything and nothing with Jamie, when she said 'If this would've been last year, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.' It all clicked.  The woman I am, but temporarily lost, would never settle for anything less than butterflies.  I also realize that 99% of relationship do not work out...and that has to be okay.  It has to be okay that Jason and I are not together.  We broke up for a reason.  We broke up and that's okay.  He'll be okay and so will I.  It took me a few months to remember to trust my own judgment--I love him, but he's not right for me.

I woke up today and saw everything clearly.  I looked around at all the dysfunction--relationships, baggage, depression, drama--and I decided enough is enough.  I'm not dysfunctional. I don't want dysfunction in my life, in any form.  Jason and I had a bizarre altercation last night when I was out with the girls.  He wanted to fight with me--I can't blame him.  I understand that the situation is complicated and difficult..but it became dysfunctional.  Either way, I let him go.  I feel at peace with all the relationship "stuff" that transpired this fall.  I learned some valuable lessons.  I'm going to learn from my mistakes.

I don't need a relationship.  I'm not spending my time wanting a relationship either.  I'm just here.

I'll never forget sitting in a massive lecture hall, reading over the lines "Whatever is, is right" by Alexander Pope.  It calms my soul--so simple and so true.  I also like the flipside, "Whatever isn't, isn't right."

Whatever isn't..isn't right.  Doesn't that just make everything so simple?

Simple.

Finally.

Insert sigh of relief here.

If this was a movie, you'd be here by now.

There is a quote by William Shakespeare that I keep repeating to myself, "Wisely and slow; They stumble that run fast."

When I sat down in my desk chair, the events of the past few months flooded to my mind in a bittersweet flash of images.

It's been a whirlwind couple of months.  I can't believe I made it through.  I'm here.  I'm me. I'm healing.  


I remember when waking up in the morning was a brutal reminder of the state of my life.  It's incredible the depths that we can sink to--the ability of the universe to surround you at once when your defenses are down.  You stand there, unable to see beyond it, wondering when you lost sight of the outside.  Muck, everywhere.  My heart used to thud in my head every time someone walked up to me too quickly or talked too loudly.  I'm free now.  On Saturday night, I hailed a taxi cab by myself in old town and went home by myself.  I walked to my apartment passed the rows of doors, not terrified that someone was going to attack me.  It hit me all at once tonight, so much has changed.  I'm awake again.

I've acclimated to my schedule and I'm even smiling through the not so delightful parts--like typing a paper for three hours tonight, wishing I was curled up on the sofa taking a siesta.  It's give and take these days. Taking a phone call from Jason. Giving him the honest truth.

I asked him about homework and he asked about 'us'.  The question took me off guard because there hasn't been an us for months.  He told me that he couldn't talk to me anymore if we were just going to continue being friends.  I went apathetic.  I didn't know what to say.  We haven't spent time together outside of class since July.  I told him that I genuinely care how he is doing and that despite not working out in a relationship--pursuing a friendship was worth it to me because I do care.   In the end, we aren't going to be talking to each other anymore.  It's really, really, really, really, really, really, REALLY over. I guess I was naive to believe that we could be friends after dating.  As I was telling Kris about the conversation, I said "I just can't cut people out of my life like that.  Just because we didn't work out in a relationship doesn't mean I don't care about him and want to be part of his life." She reminded me of a simple truth--not everyone is like me.   Jason can't just be my friend.  Lately, I feel like I'm on the receiving end of a lot of relationship decisions.

So, as October ends, so does the case of the ex-boyfriends.  No revolving door.  I didn't even think about unlocking it.  I know better.  I've actually learned from my mistakes this time.

Things have changed significantly.   I feel as if I got dropped back into someone else's life--this doesn't feel exactly like mine.  Even though I was heartbroken at the beginning of the month, I didn't seek solace in a new relationship.  I've successfully navigated through all my bruised parts and started putting myself back together. I was walking Bella this morning, remembering when people were suggesting I drop out of student teaching this semester and wait until the Spring, and I did it--almost done, loving every day.  I've come SO far.  Juggling all these things, moving with all these wounds--here I am. I'm doing okay, just me.

I wonder about the universe.  The ex-boyfriends are all gone with no battle scars left behind, all of my friends are in serious relationships and I'm on my own.  Interestingly enough, today--this moment, is the first time I feel like I'm honestly ready to have someone be part of my life.  I feel like I could go on a date--laugh and be silly, be MYSELF and not a victim, be present, be ridiculous...be okay. I could introduce myself, without thinking 'who the hell am I?' anyway in my mind.  I could take things slow and not feel torn between being 'honest' and putting on a tough front.  I can face the unknown beyond December in stride, trusting it will all work out.  I'm completely capable of handling whatever the universe is going to send my way.

I'm okay.

What a ride.  What a beautiful, ridiculous, humbling few months.

I never anticipated that I would be totally on my own at this point in my life.  I also never anticipated that I would be doing okay totally on my own.  I think about writing about everything..we..I've been through.  When it happens, it's going to be one, much anticipated, happy ending.

If this was a movie, you'd be here by now.

What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment.  And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new.  Right now.

When I get a little mental, someone should just escort me to the gym.

I went to spinning class this morning and ended up staying after to do some weights.  Mrs. A asked me this week why I love spinning so much and my answer was simple: I shut my mind off for one hour.

For one hour, I think about my breathing, my form, and pushing myself.  I appreciate the benefits of yoga, but there is something about fighting the resistance on the bike that is cathartic for me.  It's been a wonderful start to a beautiful Saturday in Arizona.  I love that I am still wearing shorts and a t-shirt out of the house at 8 am.

This week has gone by so smoothly, it's been a nice mental break to only be in charge of the junior classes. I had them create an ongoing Facebook news feed instead of doing the generic plot summary and the students were SO into it.  They were bantering about which status update should go first and who should end their relationship.  On Monday, they are going to be planning their Reality TV worthy confessional--they will be recording a dramatic monologue in groups of 3 about events in Act I and Act II of The Crucible.  I'm happy that some of my random ideas have come to fruition and worked out.  Teaching has become a passion for me and I hope that I can find somewhere to continue working after I graduate.

Mrs. A wanted to have a 'serious talk' about my future one of the mornings this week and I can't explain why I became so flustered.  She was reiterating that I should pursue teaching abroad for 2 reasons: I have no obligations here and I will make more money.   I'm not afraid to go alone or anything.  I've re-discovered my sense of independence and solitude (finally...) but it is bittersweet.  I don't really want to go on these adventures alone anymore, I want someone to share the experiences with.  The other alternative is to stay in Arizona and apply for the Teen Program Coordinator position at BGCS in May.  The only problem is that it's MAY and not MARCH, another 3 months of part time work when I have my Masters degree.   Not ideal, however when I was pushing Kayleigh on the swings yesterday, carrying around two little people on my legs, she was screaming "Bye whoever is pooping!" over and over and over again..giggling like no other.  The kids are so incredible and sweet.   I have a student who is more than angry at the universe for what has happened in his life, we had a good 'beginning' conversation on Friday, and I think I want to pull him aside and ask if he would want to volunteer at BGCS.  There is nothing more therapeutic than walking into the building after a long day and having a bunch of kids run up to you to give you a hug.  They're fantastic.  I know I have previously been complaining about my 7am-7pm schedule, but I go from one place I love to another place I love.  I think that's a blessing I briefly lost sight of.  Yesterday, the hospitality teacher was going to throw away all these awesome carved pumpkins and I asked if I could give them to the kids that didn't have a pumpkin this year and she was totally into it--another person's trash is somebody else's treasure :)

Last night was really interesting for a couple of reasons.  One, I confessed to Jamie that I secretly worry I'm going end up a cat lady.  Two, I received a text message "wish u were here to snuggle," from Eric.

Let's just say 'you've got to be kidding me' to both of them.

Jamie was hilarious and gave me hope, she said a cat lady at her work recently found love online and moved with all 3 of her cats to marry her man candy.  There is hope for the hopeless ;)  On the second, Eric's message went UNRETURNED.  Had I really slightly cared, I would have texted him back and said "isn't that the same message you sent to the other girls when WE were DATING?" Poor guy.  He keeps trying.  I honestly think in his mind we're going to get married someday.  Absolutely not.  He texted me a few times this week, that obviously went all unreturned.  He even had the audacity to ask if he could come to Scottsdale last night and stay at my place and then leave the next day.  It took everything not to say, "If you think you are ever going to have sex with me again, you're out of your mind. Done. Over. Never Again." Eric is...a learning lesson.  A brief history on the life and times of our 3 year relationship: tons of laughter, no fighting, and a case of cheating.  Eric always tells me he has changed and that our relationship was perfect (until he screwed it up..which he insists would NEVER happen again..right). He's very charming, handsome, and funny.  He is a venus fly trap.  I gave him a pseudo second chance after a fated meeting in London, two years ago.  We met outside Buckingham Palace and spent the entire day together.  Random and romantic.  After I got back from Spain, he came to visit the first weekend I was home and I briefly considered the possibility that we would work out.  Until the next weekend, (the weekend he was supposed to visit), photos of him and one of the girls he slept with when we were dating popped up on my newsfeed.  That was the end of Eric.  Beautiful promises that lack any meaning whatsoever.  With guys like Eric, you have to see behind the facade. I ended it by declaring, "Your word is your bond and your word means absolutely nothing." I'm sure you can find some sort of bitter, disheartened farewell to Eric in my blogs from September, 2009.  Fortunately, I have learned my lesson--that door is closed and locked.

Dead bolted.


The sad truth of it is, is that cliche text messages like that actually woo some women.  I'm sure Eric is 'that guy' for a lot of girls. I'm 24, I don't want to SNUGGLE with you.  It's black and white--we're so over we need a new word for over.  In the words of Just Friends, "Another bee in the hive." No thanks.  I'd rather be a cat lady.


Jamie and I decided I need to write a book about my dating blunders over the past couple of years.  Epic.  I regaled Kristin with the best of last night...we stayed up until  1 am laughing and cringing.  Men these days are out of their minds.  


In the words of Charlotte from Sex and the City, "I've been dating since I was fifteen! I'm exhausted! Where is he?"