I’m attracted to emotionally unavailable men and need to avoid them like the plague. Goodbye Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship. There were too many red flags and too little explanation. “There You Go” – Pink.
Sometimes second chances are chapter reviews which we fail miserably. Unfortunately, we are supposed to turn the other cheek. But once you’ve slapped both my cheeks, you better start runnin’ bitch ‘cause I’m swingin’ back!
Thank God I enjoy my own company. It’s true I hate not being part of a couple. But I am good company. No arguing about anything. There is no drama and my lover knows just what to do. Bahahahaha More smoke for me and I can go do what I want when I want. Woot!
I like me better walking. I enjoy life more, feel better about me, am far less depressed and feel like I’m living life to the fullest when I’m walking every day (or nearly every day). I am out and about taking pictures, something I live for.
Friendships are valuable if both people value it. I’ve learned in my life that friendships come and go. It’s sad when you find you’re no longer on the same page. When friendships start to suck the life out of me, I end them. Ending a long friendship this week, it’s painful but necessary.
The only thing holding me back is me. I need to focus on doing what I want now; I’m “using the good stuff,” as Oprah would say. I’m using all the stuff I’ve had put away for special since my kids were small. No regrets.
I’m a compassionate, giving, loving person in spite of what my kids think. I’m not living my life to win approval of my family members anymore. I am on track with God and that’s all that is important. I only need the approval of the One.
I have stopped expecting perfection but I haven’t given up striving for it. I have some an ideal of what I want in my life. It is unlikely that I will ever obtain all the items on my list (the log house, man in flannel and jeans, two dogs on the front porch) but I will strive to have them.
Life is intense, so am I. Not everyone can handle someone like me. I need a strong man who knows when to step in and save me from myself and when to butt out. Some who can diffuse me but who has intense levels of passion for the things he loves as well.
I have a split personality. I take personality traits that I admire in people and adopt them as my own. I can hear the voices of the original owners as I’m saying their words. I step inside their bodies and feel like them when I mimic their gestures. Do you see you in me?
If you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned. I’ve learned I’m still HOT. There is still fuel in this old furnace and if you make a spark you’re gonna get a fire. If you can’t handle heat, put the matches back in your pocket.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
My Brother, Wowie
They always say there is some sort of deep psychological reason for everything we do in life but I’ve never been a big believer in that theory. I’m not saying there aren’t psychological reasons for why people do things; the part I don’t buy is that they think that excuses bad behavior. Learned behavior can be unlearned just like any other bad habit. Anyway, I was sitting here thinking about why I am attracted to emotionally unavailable men.
I’m 50 freakin’ years old and I’m just now realizing, A) that I have this sick affliction and B) that there is a psychological reason for it that I didn’t see before. I look back over the men in my life who I had relationships with and most were emotionally unavailable for one reason or another.
My father, my grandfather, my uncles and cousins and my brother; each and every one of them were detached and selfish with affection and praise. I longed for (wow, this cuts deep), a father’s embrace and tender words along the lines of, “How’s my special girl today?” (That stupid parent/teacher/child crap I learned a long time ago finally means something, now.)
It was obvious (and I’m thinking out loud here, live, so nothing’s carved in stone and I’m not writing for publication) I was never going to get the loving acceptance of my father (been tryin’ for all these years though and gawd I didn’t know this was going to be so gut wrenching to talk about here… my dog thinks something is really wrong cause I’m cryin.’).
My grandfather would talk to me about projects he was working on and I’d watch him putter around fixing a lawn mower or building a butter churn out of a glass one gallon jar, some wood and some pipe. Grandpa lived to 103 and the first hug I ever got from him was the last, because by then he was too old to get away from me.
I had a couple of uncles but didn’t really have the opportunity to get close to them or my cousins.
My brother, Wowie (family nick-name), is nine years older than I am. Not a lot of difference there, but it is a lot when you are growing up. I was just far enough behind him in everything that he considered me a pest more than anything.
It wasn’t all bad like this example: Wowie was sent out in the rain, in the dark, on his bike, to run to the store for 10 pounds of potatoes. (My mother would lose her kids over that one today. lol) He’s gone a long time and Mum is getting anxious (pa wanted dinner on the table when he got home and still does at 83). Finally we hear Wowie coming up the porch and I look out the window, he frowns at me and I make a face at him and he punched the window out.
We did have short period of brother/sisterly love, during the death of our mother and during the breakup of a serious relationship he had been involved in. When Mum died I received my first heart-felt embrace from my big brother. But those experiences weren’t enough to build a lasting or close-knit bond. I love my brother and I know he loves me but the relationship lacks depth. We don’t seek out each other’s company. Me because I know I’d be rejected and I can’t take it from him (I’ll explain more about that in a minute); and him because I’m an embarrassment to him.
He’s always had more money than me, always lived in nicer houses and driven nicer cars. That stuff really isn’t all that important to me. I’m glad he has it and I don’t begrudge him a single thing, he and his wife work hard and deserve everything they have. But I’m happy being me, living with a lot less in a very modest home. I enjoy my life most of the time. I’ve developed some skills I’m proud of and have many things I enjoy doing. He should be happy for me too.
For many reasons, my brother pulled away from what was left of our family after our mother died. He had many valid reasons for doing so. But as far as I know, there is no real reason for him to keep up the distance between us. We both do a lot of camping (me less in recent years) but we have never gone together.
One-by-one, every family member pulled away physically and emotionally. I believe this played a HUGE role in the types of relationships I’ve had. I am still trying to love people who push me away or hold me at arm’s length.
When will my embrace be returned in kind? Will I ever feel the exhilaration of approval? Now that I have this information, what do I do with it? I will most certainly be re-evaluating all my relationships against this type of grid.
You see, this is why I don’t like to think too much. It’s messy, it stinks and someone always gets hurt, namely me. This would be a good time for me to go to bed and hopefully not even dream.
I’m 50 freakin’ years old and I’m just now realizing, A) that I have this sick affliction and B) that there is a psychological reason for it that I didn’t see before. I look back over the men in my life who I had relationships with and most were emotionally unavailable for one reason or another.
My father, my grandfather, my uncles and cousins and my brother; each and every one of them were detached and selfish with affection and praise. I longed for (wow, this cuts deep), a father’s embrace and tender words along the lines of, “How’s my special girl today?” (That stupid parent/teacher/child crap I learned a long time ago finally means something, now.)
It was obvious (and I’m thinking out loud here, live, so nothing’s carved in stone and I’m not writing for publication) I was never going to get the loving acceptance of my father (been tryin’ for all these years though and gawd I didn’t know this was going to be so gut wrenching to talk about here… my dog thinks something is really wrong cause I’m cryin.’).
My grandfather would talk to me about projects he was working on and I’d watch him putter around fixing a lawn mower or building a butter churn out of a glass one gallon jar, some wood and some pipe. Grandpa lived to 103 and the first hug I ever got from him was the last, because by then he was too old to get away from me.
I had a couple of uncles but didn’t really have the opportunity to get close to them or my cousins.
My brother, Wowie (family nick-name), is nine years older than I am. Not a lot of difference there, but it is a lot when you are growing up. I was just far enough behind him in everything that he considered me a pest more than anything.
It wasn’t all bad like this example: Wowie was sent out in the rain, in the dark, on his bike, to run to the store for 10 pounds of potatoes. (My mother would lose her kids over that one today. lol) He’s gone a long time and Mum is getting anxious (pa wanted dinner on the table when he got home and still does at 83). Finally we hear Wowie coming up the porch and I look out the window, he frowns at me and I make a face at him and he punched the window out.
We did have short period of brother/sisterly love, during the death of our mother and during the breakup of a serious relationship he had been involved in. When Mum died I received my first heart-felt embrace from my big brother. But those experiences weren’t enough to build a lasting or close-knit bond. I love my brother and I know he loves me but the relationship lacks depth. We don’t seek out each other’s company. Me because I know I’d be rejected and I can’t take it from him (I’ll explain more about that in a minute); and him because I’m an embarrassment to him.
He’s always had more money than me, always lived in nicer houses and driven nicer cars. That stuff really isn’t all that important to me. I’m glad he has it and I don’t begrudge him a single thing, he and his wife work hard and deserve everything they have. But I’m happy being me, living with a lot less in a very modest home. I enjoy my life most of the time. I’ve developed some skills I’m proud of and have many things I enjoy doing. He should be happy for me too.
For many reasons, my brother pulled away from what was left of our family after our mother died. He had many valid reasons for doing so. But as far as I know, there is no real reason for him to keep up the distance between us. We both do a lot of camping (me less in recent years) but we have never gone together.
One-by-one, every family member pulled away physically and emotionally. I believe this played a HUGE role in the types of relationships I’ve had. I am still trying to love people who push me away or hold me at arm’s length.
When will my embrace be returned in kind? Will I ever feel the exhilaration of approval? Now that I have this information, what do I do with it? I will most certainly be re-evaluating all my relationships against this type of grid.
You see, this is why I don’t like to think too much. It’s messy, it stinks and someone always gets hurt, namely me. This would be a good time for me to go to bed and hopefully not even dream.
Sigh…this is NOT Supposed to be a Diary!
OK, so remember Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship? He’s still hanging around. Unfortunately the banter feels strained now, at least on my end. The trust is broken for me and I don’t feel free to be open and loving like I want to be. I don’t understand the hesitation on his part. I do know the pain from his wife’s death has got to still be pretty raw. A year is not a long time in the grieving process. When my husband left me it took 5 years until I knew I wasn’t in love with him anymore. But Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship’s wife died so he’s always going to love her. How do I let him know that’s okay and perfectly NORMAL? So long as I’m not being compared to her or expected to live as she did, have the same opinions, etc., it is okay. I need to be myself, with all my charms, mysteries and flaws; just as she was.
Okay, I don’t know what’s gonna happen here, just gonna play it by ear and see what happens (at my son’s urging, **I** was ready to end it today). I have many more questions than answers. If it’s just loving comfort he needs, I’m good at that too, damn it!
To be continued, or not… (written yesterday)
Okay, I don’t know what’s gonna happen here, just gonna play it by ear and see what happens (at my son’s urging, **I** was ready to end it today). I have many more questions than answers. If it’s just loving comfort he needs, I’m good at that too, damn it!
To be continued, or not… (written yesterday)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
I’m Alone, I’m Lonely
In the last couple of days, I have become moderately depressed. I know that it is because it has been 5 years since my divorce and I’m still alone. (The ex has gone through at least 3 live-in girlfriends.) I’ve heard people say, “I don’t need a man in my life!” I don’t need a man either, I just want one. I am one of those people who feel incomplete without a mate. I truly believe God intended us to be paired up since he made Woman for Man. It is logical that I would feel lonely without a partner.
The need I feel to be paired off is all-consuming at times. I don’t have to get married right away; I just want to belong with someone. I want my soft place to land, arms to hold me, someone to laugh with me and someone to make love to. I want someone whose face lights up when they see me coming.
I know there are plenty of drawbacks to being in a relationship, but for me, they just aren’t worth mentioning. I guess the biggest of those would be the need to compromise. Some people just aren’t able to do that, it has to be their way all the time. They expect perfection so they may possibly spend the rest of their life searching for the perfect mate and end up alone because no one fit their ideal. There has to be compromise, not control or need for perfection.
[On an aside, my kids have often accused me of being controlling and have suggested I always have to have things my way. I have talked about this a little before, and remember, I am stating my personal feelings here. I’m trying to make sense of things for myself and while some understanding would be nice from whomever reads this when I’ve gone off to the grave, I’m sharing so people will understand that there were no ulterior motives in my life. When my kids were younger, I controlled many aspects of their lives, that’s just the way it is for kids. Kids can’t wait to get out from under the control of their parents, that’s the nature of things. If only my kids could see the level of compromise I exhibited in my 20 year marriage. The forgiveness I’ve shown for offenses which would have sent many marriages to divorce court years earlier. All the lies I overlooked, the neglect I suffered… There are two sides to every story, this is my story.]
I don’t want to control a mate at all. And I hope they don’t want to control me either. (Although, it would be really nice to have a man who could control me physically should the need arise, and one who knows how to diffuse me when someone gets me riled. I am a bit of a spitfire… I am telling you, I should have had red hair ‘cause it suits my temperament. ) In fact, I’m hoping that I will find someone who does their own thing sometimes too because I don’t want to be the entertainment committee.
I love to do things with my man but he’s going to have to take the initiative and plan things for us to do because I don’t know what someone else wants to do. If there is something I want to do, I will speak up too. It’s not a complicated thing, relationships. It’s all about consideration for the other person. Making the other person happy should be the primary goal of both parties in a relationship.
Many times I wondered if I would be able to adapt to the demands a relationship would put on my personal time. I spend a lot of time on the computer, for example. Given the changes I’ve been making in my life, adapting to new routines, changing jobs, moving to a new town after living in the same house for 14 years; I am convinced that I can adapt and grow in a relationship just as I’ve adapted to all the other changes in my life. What’s more, I want a relationship so it is something I welcome and long for in my life. I can’t imagine I would want to ruin something as wonderful as a committed relationship with controlling behavior.
OK, so remember Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship? He E-mailed me at work yesterday. I’ve had guys treat me like an emotional ragdoll before. I don’t think I am very trusting of him at this point. While I have no doubt the sex would be incredible, I am not ready to treat sex as casually as I say I am at times. Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship left me with the female equivalent of “blue balls” which lasted more than a week. (And all we did was kiss! But we talked about other things and the sexual banter was better than some sex I’ve had.) I would love to be the type of woman who could just hop in bed for a wild ride but I’m not. I don’t believe God would want me to behave that way. In the past I’ve gone against what I believe and have been betrayed. I really don’t want all the emotional/spiritual/sexual tug-of-war thing going on in my life.
All kidding aside, I felt a real connection to Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship. We have quite a few interests in common so we would have been able to do things together right off. We also had interests of our own we wanted to share. Our lives intersected beautifully with location, schedules… We have similar intelligence levels (but being a woman, I let him think he’s smarter than me). Couple those (no pun intended) with the incredible physical chemistry; I was intense about how exciting all the possibilities were looking.
All I can say is this guy needs a serious dose of Men Are From Mars, Women are from Venus. (Just call me a Harpy on this issue.) Mandatory reading for a relationship with me I think. Men always want an owner’s manual for me, there it is! If Dr. Gray wasn’t married (had some facial hair, a more rugged looking face and was 40 pounds heavier), I’d be after him.
I think if someone wants to date me then they need to court me. And all the questions I’ve been too afraid to ask when I was younger; I’m asking. So we’ll see who steps up to meet my minimal list of companionship requirements.
The need I feel to be paired off is all-consuming at times. I don’t have to get married right away; I just want to belong with someone. I want my soft place to land, arms to hold me, someone to laugh with me and someone to make love to. I want someone whose face lights up when they see me coming.
I know there are plenty of drawbacks to being in a relationship, but for me, they just aren’t worth mentioning. I guess the biggest of those would be the need to compromise. Some people just aren’t able to do that, it has to be their way all the time. They expect perfection so they may possibly spend the rest of their life searching for the perfect mate and end up alone because no one fit their ideal. There has to be compromise, not control or need for perfection.
[On an aside, my kids have often accused me of being controlling and have suggested I always have to have things my way. I have talked about this a little before, and remember, I am stating my personal feelings here. I’m trying to make sense of things for myself and while some understanding would be nice from whomever reads this when I’ve gone off to the grave, I’m sharing so people will understand that there were no ulterior motives in my life. When my kids were younger, I controlled many aspects of their lives, that’s just the way it is for kids. Kids can’t wait to get out from under the control of their parents, that’s the nature of things. If only my kids could see the level of compromise I exhibited in my 20 year marriage. The forgiveness I’ve shown for offenses which would have sent many marriages to divorce court years earlier. All the lies I overlooked, the neglect I suffered… There are two sides to every story, this is my story.]
I don’t want to control a mate at all. And I hope they don’t want to control me either. (Although, it would be really nice to have a man who could control me physically should the need arise, and one who knows how to diffuse me when someone gets me riled. I am a bit of a spitfire… I am telling you, I should have had red hair ‘cause it suits my temperament. ) In fact, I’m hoping that I will find someone who does their own thing sometimes too because I don’t want to be the entertainment committee.
I love to do things with my man but he’s going to have to take the initiative and plan things for us to do because I don’t know what someone else wants to do. If there is something I want to do, I will speak up too. It’s not a complicated thing, relationships. It’s all about consideration for the other person. Making the other person happy should be the primary goal of both parties in a relationship.
Many times I wondered if I would be able to adapt to the demands a relationship would put on my personal time. I spend a lot of time on the computer, for example. Given the changes I’ve been making in my life, adapting to new routines, changing jobs, moving to a new town after living in the same house for 14 years; I am convinced that I can adapt and grow in a relationship just as I’ve adapted to all the other changes in my life. What’s more, I want a relationship so it is something I welcome and long for in my life. I can’t imagine I would want to ruin something as wonderful as a committed relationship with controlling behavior.
OK, so remember Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship? He E-mailed me at work yesterday. I’ve had guys treat me like an emotional ragdoll before. I don’t think I am very trusting of him at this point. While I have no doubt the sex would be incredible, I am not ready to treat sex as casually as I say I am at times. Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship left me with the female equivalent of “blue balls” which lasted more than a week. (And all we did was kiss! But we talked about other things and the sexual banter was better than some sex I’ve had.) I would love to be the type of woman who could just hop in bed for a wild ride but I’m not. I don’t believe God would want me to behave that way. In the past I’ve gone against what I believe and have been betrayed. I really don’t want all the emotional/spiritual/sexual tug-of-war thing going on in my life.
All kidding aside, I felt a real connection to Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship. We have quite a few interests in common so we would have been able to do things together right off. We also had interests of our own we wanted to share. Our lives intersected beautifully with location, schedules… We have similar intelligence levels (but being a woman, I let him think he’s smarter than me). Couple those (no pun intended) with the incredible physical chemistry; I was intense about how exciting all the possibilities were looking.
All I can say is this guy needs a serious dose of Men Are From Mars, Women are from Venus. (Just call me a Harpy on this issue.) Mandatory reading for a relationship with me I think. Men always want an owner’s manual for me, there it is! If Dr. Gray wasn’t married (had some facial hair, a more rugged looking face and was 40 pounds heavier), I’d be after him.
I think if someone wants to date me then they need to court me. And all the questions I’ve been too afraid to ask when I was younger; I’m asking. So we’ll see who steps up to meet my minimal list of companionship requirements.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Renovating Roxanne
I’ve always cared about my appearance, always wore clean clothes and bathed, but I went through a very plain period; no jewelry, no makeup, ordinary clothes. My ex husband wanted me to stop wearing makeup early on in our marriage. We had no sex life to speak of. I guess once I’d been stripped of everything that made me attractive to him in the first place, there was no attraction left? I squelched my sexual side as a matter of self preservation because I couldn’t bear the rejection anymore. (We had very few arguments in our marriage but those we did have, were over my dissatisfaction with the lack of affection in our marriage.) Anyway, the marriage is over now and I am free to be ME again.
The first thing I did was start get my nails done again. Nothing makes me feel more like a lady than to have my nails nicely manicured.
Shortly afterward I began wearing some mascara. It was hard to get used to at first but now it’s become routine. I burned the sweat pants and got out the cute little tops and jeans & opened toed shoes (painted nails)…
The next part of the process required me to move out of my comfort zone and start doing things alone. That’s always been extremely hard for me to do. The alternative, though, is to not do anything at all. So do I wait around hoping to snag an online suitor who might like to accompany me or do I go out and have a life? Exactly! It is time to start doing all the things that make me happy.
I prefer walking for fitness and it has been a couple of years since I was really active doing it. I moved to a new area and have been afraid to venture out on my own to scout walking locations. I walk for measured distance and speed. I like to keep a record of how many miles I walk in a year. My record is 650 and I would really like to break that record sometime. In a week’s time I’d located a route near my home and another one near my office.
That same week I took a harpy’s advice and got my eyebrows waxed for the third time in my life. I think it looks nice, but I don’t know what all the fuss is about eyebrows. It’s not like I have the Cookie Monster thing going on or anything. I should have taken some before and after pictures I guess.
I’m fresh out of a very brief but extremely stimulating relationship, all my senses are heightened and I feel like I’m on fire a lot of the time. You just can’t unflip that switch.
What I’m learning is that when I feel good about myself, I smile more and when I smile I’m not half bad looking.
One cool thing I got out of the brief-but-stimulating relationship is that I remembered how to flirt and I can tell when I’m being flirted with.
Saturday I got up, put on my face and took my cameras out on a date to greet the sunrise and we captured it on film (well, not film, but you know what I mean). It was a beautiful sunrise too. Afterward we went on a fitness/nature walk through the wildlife preserve and took a few more pictures. I actually enjoy this kind of thing very much but I would enjoy it even more if I had someone to share it with.
I have no idea how much I weigh, I don’t own a scale. I measure my physical reshaping by how much room I take up in the bath tub and by how my clothes fit. Sunday I logged six miles of walking. After a week of walking I already feel different. My body is starting to crave physical activity again. My legs aren’t as jiggly as they were last week. My face has thinned out a good bit and I have a light tan on my arms. Loooooking Good Roxanne!
The first thing I did was start get my nails done again. Nothing makes me feel more like a lady than to have my nails nicely manicured.
Shortly afterward I began wearing some mascara. It was hard to get used to at first but now it’s become routine. I burned the sweat pants and got out the cute little tops and jeans & opened toed shoes (painted nails)…
The next part of the process required me to move out of my comfort zone and start doing things alone. That’s always been extremely hard for me to do. The alternative, though, is to not do anything at all. So do I wait around hoping to snag an online suitor who might like to accompany me or do I go out and have a life? Exactly! It is time to start doing all the things that make me happy.
I prefer walking for fitness and it has been a couple of years since I was really active doing it. I moved to a new area and have been afraid to venture out on my own to scout walking locations. I walk for measured distance and speed. I like to keep a record of how many miles I walk in a year. My record is 650 and I would really like to break that record sometime. In a week’s time I’d located a route near my home and another one near my office.
That same week I took a harpy’s advice and got my eyebrows waxed for the third time in my life. I think it looks nice, but I don’t know what all the fuss is about eyebrows. It’s not like I have the Cookie Monster thing going on or anything. I should have taken some before and after pictures I guess.
I’m fresh out of a very brief but extremely stimulating relationship, all my senses are heightened and I feel like I’m on fire a lot of the time. You just can’t unflip that switch.
What I’m learning is that when I feel good about myself, I smile more and when I smile I’m not half bad looking.
One cool thing I got out of the brief-but-stimulating relationship is that I remembered how to flirt and I can tell when I’m being flirted with.
Saturday I got up, put on my face and took my cameras out on a date to greet the sunrise and we captured it on film (well, not film, but you know what I mean). It was a beautiful sunrise too. Afterward we went on a fitness/nature walk through the wildlife preserve and took a few more pictures. I actually enjoy this kind of thing very much but I would enjoy it even more if I had someone to share it with.
I have no idea how much I weigh, I don’t own a scale. I measure my physical reshaping by how much room I take up in the bath tub and by how my clothes fit. Sunday I logged six miles of walking. After a week of walking I already feel different. My body is starting to crave physical activity again. My legs aren’t as jiggly as they were last week. My face has thinned out a good bit and I have a light tan on my arms. Loooooking Good Roxanne!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Friends & Friendships, Design & Perception
Somewhere in one of my online dating profiles, I’ve put in a line something about needing a man who isn’t afraid to be alone with his thoughts. To me that is an indication that he is aware of how he feels about things and is sure about who he is and what he wants. But then the more I thought about that line, the more I realized that I’m afraid of my own thoughts too. No, not a spooky, “she’s a wacko who’s probably gonna shoot someone, did you know she carries a gun,” kind of way. (Yes, I’ve carried a gun all my adult life and I’ve never shot anyone even during one of my aforementioned micro-bursts of anger.) No, I mean my deepest thoughts.
I think the only thoughts I hate being alone with are memories of people who have come and gone from my life over the years. I guess that’s why old people tell the same old stories over and over, they just miss their friends and talking about them keeps them alive to them somehow.
I used to think about people I’d wronged in some way too. I didn’t do anything horrid but I’ve slighted a few people over the years. Sometimes a friendship isn’t going well and I’ll end it. A few times I did it in mean ways and I’m truly sorry. Fortunately I’ve had the opportunity to right most of those types of wrongs. I haven’t renewed the friendships, I made the right decisions, but I was less than Christian in my method of dealing with it and that is what I am most ashamed of. I have made my apologies to those I’ve run into again. Doesn’t make it right but I just think I owe them that much.
Earlier in my blog posts I’ve mentioned how when you love someone you should love them warts and all. It shouldn’t matter what they look like, it shouldn’t matter if they do things you don’t approve of or don’t take your advice… no matter what, you still love them, even if you think they are doing dumb things. That’s easy with family members but what about friends?
I have an online friend I’ve had for a while now. In the past year, she knows very little about my life. Why? Because she doesn’t listen! She comes online, vents and leaves. Recently I had a piece of news to share and I told her a one sentence synopsis and she didn't respond at all, just went on talking about her own life. (Hey, it’s not like I have a lot of news to tell so any news from me is a big deal.) That really hurt. It’s not the first time it’s happened either. I’m not important and nothing I have to say is important either. Clearly I’m not getting what I need from this friendship. Maybe it’s time to move on? At least I know I can do so in a Christian way and have no regrets.
Many times I think about the men I’ve loved in my lifetime. It is funny how the ones who broke up with me are the ones that hurt the most. Those hearts I broke, I barely remember. How selfish is that? Those are the kind of thoughts I fear being alone with. How can I expect any more from those who have dumped me? With few exceptions though, there aren’t any dumpers or dumpees I’m pining away for anymore.
The thoughts that are the hardest to be alone with come from that nagging little devil me that sits on my shoulder telling me I’m evil, mean, ugly, slutty… I hate that bitch.
I prefer the voice of the angel me who reminds me of all the goodness, kindness, purity, sincerity, love, wisdom, and sexiness. Okay, I made up the last one; my angel me wouldn’t tell me I’m hot but she might tell me I’m nice looking.
The more I write here, the less scary all my fears about myself seem. I am liking myself more and enjoying my times of solitude more. However, I’m still not comfortable thinking about anything unhappy. I would rather crank up the music and rock out to the beat because I am sick and tired of crying.
I am a work in progress; both potter and clay. I am molding myself into the person I want to become. What I am learning is that there isn’t anything wrong with my original design, just in my perception of it.
I think the only thoughts I hate being alone with are memories of people who have come and gone from my life over the years. I guess that’s why old people tell the same old stories over and over, they just miss their friends and talking about them keeps them alive to them somehow.
I used to think about people I’d wronged in some way too. I didn’t do anything horrid but I’ve slighted a few people over the years. Sometimes a friendship isn’t going well and I’ll end it. A few times I did it in mean ways and I’m truly sorry. Fortunately I’ve had the opportunity to right most of those types of wrongs. I haven’t renewed the friendships, I made the right decisions, but I was less than Christian in my method of dealing with it and that is what I am most ashamed of. I have made my apologies to those I’ve run into again. Doesn’t make it right but I just think I owe them that much.
Earlier in my blog posts I’ve mentioned how when you love someone you should love them warts and all. It shouldn’t matter what they look like, it shouldn’t matter if they do things you don’t approve of or don’t take your advice… no matter what, you still love them, even if you think they are doing dumb things. That’s easy with family members but what about friends?
I have an online friend I’ve had for a while now. In the past year, she knows very little about my life. Why? Because she doesn’t listen! She comes online, vents and leaves. Recently I had a piece of news to share and I told her a one sentence synopsis and she didn't respond at all, just went on talking about her own life. (Hey, it’s not like I have a lot of news to tell so any news from me is a big deal.) That really hurt. It’s not the first time it’s happened either. I’m not important and nothing I have to say is important either. Clearly I’m not getting what I need from this friendship. Maybe it’s time to move on? At least I know I can do so in a Christian way and have no regrets.
Many times I think about the men I’ve loved in my lifetime. It is funny how the ones who broke up with me are the ones that hurt the most. Those hearts I broke, I barely remember. How selfish is that? Those are the kind of thoughts I fear being alone with. How can I expect any more from those who have dumped me? With few exceptions though, there aren’t any dumpers or dumpees I’m pining away for anymore.
The thoughts that are the hardest to be alone with come from that nagging little devil me that sits on my shoulder telling me I’m evil, mean, ugly, slutty… I hate that bitch.
I prefer the voice of the angel me who reminds me of all the goodness, kindness, purity, sincerity, love, wisdom, and sexiness. Okay, I made up the last one; my angel me wouldn’t tell me I’m hot but she might tell me I’m nice looking.
The more I write here, the less scary all my fears about myself seem. I am liking myself more and enjoying my times of solitude more. However, I’m still not comfortable thinking about anything unhappy. I would rather crank up the music and rock out to the beat because I am sick and tired of crying.
I am a work in progress; both potter and clay. I am molding myself into the person I want to become. What I am learning is that there isn’t anything wrong with my original design, just in my perception of it.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
My Own Boogie Men
I was doing some research about my boss who is a Micromanager, trying to learn how to best deal with him. At the bottom of the web page I was reading there was a note to micromanagers who might be reading. It asked, “What are you afraid of.” Oh boy! This is a can of worms I didn’t want to open but how can you make progress in self-discovery if you don’t examine your fears?
When I began work as editor of a small press magazine, I was doing everything myself, I didn’t have a choice. But as the magazine grew, I needed to get rid of my micromanagement tendencies. I had to learn to delegate and let go of some of the responsibility. I learned to hire people who knew what they were doing and who could meet deadlines then I’d back away and let them do their jobs.
In my personal life I’m still too much of a micromanager. Some people call it controlling. Just to set the record straight, I only want to control MY life, not yours. Unfortunately, we are not always able to control what happens in our lives. Those are the most frustrating times in my life. So I guess what I fear most is having someone strip away the power I have over my own life. I don’t have much and I want to keep what little I have. I feel the most helpless when someone I care about makes a decision that effects me and there is nothing I can do to stop it from happening. (Divorce is one of those situations, death might be another.) I’ve always been a can-do kind of gal. If I wanted something I went after it. I would break through any barriers I ran up against and figure a way around them. But accepting that some things are out of my control in my own life is a constant source of frustration.
I’m always thinking of ways to make other people happy. I love to see them smile. Doesn’t matter who it is; if I have something and it will make them happy, I give it to them. It drives me nuts being around people who don’t want or need anything I have. I need to be filling a need all the time. I fear the day when I can no longer be productive. I fear never hearing, “Oh, let’s call Baring My Soul in Public, she’ll know.”
I fear growing old alone more than anything I think. I’m already 50, I don’t have far to grow. I want someone to help me fill the lonely hours of old age. I want to spend days doing nothing but fishing. I want to go on long drives to nowhere. And I want to still be having sex when I’m 86 like my grandpa who remarried at that age. (His wife told me they were sexually active.) I want to have someone miss me when I’m away. I want to belong somewhere.
As long as parents are alive you can belong at their home. But when they are gone, home is where you and your spouse are. What of people like me? I have a house, but it’s not “home.” Home is knowing who you would run to if something bad happened. Home is knowing what to expect… a blissful routine of a couple who competes to top each other in keeping the routine not so routine.
(I harp on this a lot, but, if Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus were required reading for couples wanting to get married, there would be far less divorce.)
Being the can-do kind of gal I am, I will learn to adapt to being alone. I will be okay and I won’t die or anything. But knowing what I want in life and not being able to make it happen will fuel me until the day I die. When there is no longer anything left to aim for, I will simply die.
I am a goal driven person. I have to have a goal. It can be a short goal (remembering to pick up bread on the way home) or it can be more substantial (a new camera), but I need a goal. Every goal needs a reward at the end. I reward myself for coming to work each day with a trip to Starbucks. My reward for raising 4 children was supposed to be enjoying retirement years with my husband who had other plans for those years which didn’t include me. (I’m always the last to know and that drives me crazy too. If you’re getting divorced shouldn’t you get to have a few fights first?) Now I’m scrambling to come up with my own rewards. They just feel kind of hallow.
The last Boogie Man is my fear of rejection. Now I’m a writer/editor so I’ve been on both ends of professional rejection. It gets easier with time. But personal rejection is much harder to get used to. I am 50, I’ve had 4 kids and I used to be fat. Clothes hide a lot. I fear no one will want to touch me again, kiss me, make love to me…
Okay, my boogie men need more boogers I think. Hehe
* Dying Alone
* Not Being Productive
* Not Experiencing Physical/Emotional Love again
I guess those aren’t too many fears to have to deal with. I’m sure I have more but those are the biggest ones. Everyone has their own crosses to bear.
I was doing some research about my boss who is a Micromanager, trying to learn how to best deal with him. At the bottom of the web page I was reading there was a note to micromanagers who might be reading. It asked, “What are you afraid of.” Oh boy! This is a can of worms I didn’t want to open but how can you make progress in self-discovery if you don’t examine your fears?
When I began work as editor of a small press magazine, I was doing everything myself, I didn’t have a choice. But as the magazine grew, I needed to get rid of my micromanagement tendencies. I had to learn to delegate and let go of some of the responsibility. I learned to hire people who knew what they were doing and who could meet deadlines then I’d back away and let them do their jobs.
In my personal life I’m still too much of a micromanager. Some people call it controlling. Just to set the record straight, I only want to control MY life, not yours. Unfortunately, we are not always able to control what happens in our lives. Those are the most frustrating times in my life. So I guess what I fear most is having someone strip away the power I have over my own life. I don’t have much and I want to keep what little I have. I feel the most helpless when someone I care about makes a decision that effects me and there is nothing I can do to stop it from happening. (Divorce is one of those situations, death might be another.) I’ve always been a can-do kind of gal. If I wanted something I went after it. I would break through any barriers I ran up against and figure a way around them. But accepting that some things are out of my control in my own life is a constant source of frustration.
I’m always thinking of ways to make other people happy. I love to see them smile. Doesn’t matter who it is; if I have something and it will make them happy, I give it to them. It drives me nuts being around people who don’t want or need anything I have. I need to be filling a need all the time. I fear the day when I can no longer be productive. I fear never hearing, “Oh, let’s call Baring My Soul in Public, she’ll know.”
I fear growing old alone more than anything I think. I’m already 50, I don’t have far to grow. I want someone to help me fill the lonely hours of old age. I want to spend days doing nothing but fishing. I want to go on long drives to nowhere. And I want to still be having sex when I’m 86 like my grandpa who remarried at that age. (His wife told me they were sexually active.) I want to have someone miss me when I’m away. I want to belong somewhere.
As long as parents are alive you can belong at their home. But when they are gone, home is where you and your spouse are. What of people like me? I have a house, but it’s not “home.” Home is knowing who you would run to if something bad happened. Home is knowing what to expect… a blissful routine of a couple who competes to top each other in keeping the routine not so routine.
(I harp on this a lot, but, if Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus were required reading for couples wanting to get married, there would be far less divorce.)
Being the can-do kind of gal I am, I will learn to adapt to being alone. I will be okay and I won’t die or anything. But knowing what I want in life and not being able to make it happen will fuel me until the day I die. When there is no longer anything left to aim for, I will simply die.
I am a goal driven person. I have to have a goal. It can be a short goal (remembering to pick up bread on the way home) or it can be more substantial (a new camera), but I need a goal. Every goal needs a reward at the end. I reward myself for coming to work each day with a trip to Starbucks. My reward for raising 4 children was supposed to be enjoying retirement years with my husband who had other plans for those years which didn’t include me. (I’m always the last to know and that drives me crazy too. If you’re getting divorced shouldn’t you get to have a few fights first?) Now I’m scrambling to come up with my own rewards. They just feel kind of hallow.
The last Boogie Man is my fear of rejection. Now I’m a writer/editor so I’ve been on both ends of professional rejection. It gets easier with time. But personal rejection is much harder to get used to. I am 50, I’ve had 4 kids and I used to be fat. Clothes hide a lot. I fear no one will want to touch me again, kiss me, make love to me…
Okay, my boogie men need more boogers I think. Hehe
* Dying Alone
* Not Being Productive
* Not Experiencing Physical/Emotional Love again
I guess those aren’t too many fears to have to deal with. I’m sure I have more but those are the biggest ones. Everyone has their own crosses to bear.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
My Ideal Life
During this period of self-discovery I have developed a mental check-list of how I would like my life to go, in an ideal situation.
The first part of my ideal life had to do with living accommodations. Ideally I would live in a large log cabin in the woods. Alternatives would be a small log cabin, any type of dwelling in the woods, a house or mobile home on a few acres. I would settle for a house in the burbs but can’t do city life, can’t and won’t live in an apartment.
I want to decorate in a combination of Traditional Style and Rustic, even if I live in a house in the city. I like my house to feel like Grandma’s house without the clutter. A “I’ve just cleaned my house for company,” version of my grandmother’s house. I like the kitchen to always smell of something good. Fresh baked bread, a pot of beans on the stove. Yeah, like that.
I want a garden “out back” that provides a steady stream of herbs, tomatoes and cucumbers in the summer. I want to can pickles, make sauerkraut, can salsa, peaches, pears, tomatoes and applesauce. I would love to have an apple tree, a pear tree and an apricot tree. I want to see my pantry shelves filled with home canned foods that will see us through the winter. Likewise I want the freezer full of fresh corn stripped from the cobs and meat either hunted for or raised on our property. I never want to wonder what I’m going to feed people when they stop by unexpectedly. (Oh, not there’s an idea for a future rant, people who stop by without calling first, gawd I hate that!)
Since I love pond building and natural landscaping, I would probably have some small water feature somewhere on the property. But since they require constant maintenance, I would probably keep it small since I’m getting older. Trying to keep chores to a minimum so I have more time for other, um, passions. (raising eyebrow)
Of course I’ll need a husband to chop wood and kill spiders. Hehe He would be hangin’ out someplace in his jeans and flannel shirt lookin’ hot. Maybe he’s out in the shop workin’ on his hotrod cause he knows it turns me on to see him driving that hot toy of his. He’ll always keep the hay barn cleaned out cause we have fun in there when the kids and grandkids aren’t around. Oh yeah!
Okay, I don’t know if my future husband will dress like that but I do know he’ll be a country boy at heart and he won’t wear clicky shoes or swishy pants and he won’t be wearing a tie to work, guaranteed. I wouldn’t be attracted to someone like that and I’m sure they wouldn’t be attracted to me either. Almost anything goes but cowboy hats and the aforementioned swishy pants and clicky shoes are OUT.
I want to get up early in the morning and flip on the coffee pot and start in right away, writing. I want to wake up my man with some coffee and maybe some sugar too. Once he’s off working or playing I will work more, putt around the garden, do some canning, plan a great dinner and a relaxing massage for my sweetie.
When my advance checks come in for the books I’ve written I’ll pay to have my sweetie’s bumper rechromed or get him that fishing reel he’s been drooling over in one of his outdoors magazines (or whatever he’s into). I like to spoil my man and he’ll want to spoil me too (or he won’t be my man). Sometimes the hunky husband will take me around the area to take pictures and add to my photography portfolio, which is already extensive. We’ll enjoy every moment together. He will encourage me in my work and I will encourage him in whatever he likes to do. We will help each other and build each other up in the most loving ways. Even though I dig around in the garden, I keep myself looking nice, keep my nails done, keep my toenails painted, get facials and wear attractive clothes. I want to keep my man happy and satisfied.
Part of this dream includes a St. Bernard and a Bloodhound laying on the front porch, however, this would depend on where this is and whether or not travel plays a big role in our lives. I enjoy travel so if the hunky husband wanted to travel, I’d do it. I’ll just write some travel articles from it. Hehe (Told you, I have to be productive. For instance, I’m at work, but there is nothing to do, so I’m blogging. It’s production, right? Someday this may all be in a book.)
That’s my dream; lots of room for flexibility. I don’t live that dream now, but I’m happy. If I met someone and they just moved in, that would work, but this is My Ideal Life.
The first part of my ideal life had to do with living accommodations. Ideally I would live in a large log cabin in the woods. Alternatives would be a small log cabin, any type of dwelling in the woods, a house or mobile home on a few acres. I would settle for a house in the burbs but can’t do city life, can’t and won’t live in an apartment.
I want to decorate in a combination of Traditional Style and Rustic, even if I live in a house in the city. I like my house to feel like Grandma’s house without the clutter. A “I’ve just cleaned my house for company,” version of my grandmother’s house. I like the kitchen to always smell of something good. Fresh baked bread, a pot of beans on the stove. Yeah, like that.
I want a garden “out back” that provides a steady stream of herbs, tomatoes and cucumbers in the summer. I want to can pickles, make sauerkraut, can salsa, peaches, pears, tomatoes and applesauce. I would love to have an apple tree, a pear tree and an apricot tree. I want to see my pantry shelves filled with home canned foods that will see us through the winter. Likewise I want the freezer full of fresh corn stripped from the cobs and meat either hunted for or raised on our property. I never want to wonder what I’m going to feed people when they stop by unexpectedly. (Oh, not there’s an idea for a future rant, people who stop by without calling first, gawd I hate that!)
Since I love pond building and natural landscaping, I would probably have some small water feature somewhere on the property. But since they require constant maintenance, I would probably keep it small since I’m getting older. Trying to keep chores to a minimum so I have more time for other, um, passions. (raising eyebrow)
Of course I’ll need a husband to chop wood and kill spiders. Hehe He would be hangin’ out someplace in his jeans and flannel shirt lookin’ hot. Maybe he’s out in the shop workin’ on his hotrod cause he knows it turns me on to see him driving that hot toy of his. He’ll always keep the hay barn cleaned out cause we have fun in there when the kids and grandkids aren’t around. Oh yeah!
Okay, I don’t know if my future husband will dress like that but I do know he’ll be a country boy at heart and he won’t wear clicky shoes or swishy pants and he won’t be wearing a tie to work, guaranteed. I wouldn’t be attracted to someone like that and I’m sure they wouldn’t be attracted to me either. Almost anything goes but cowboy hats and the aforementioned swishy pants and clicky shoes are OUT.
I want to get up early in the morning and flip on the coffee pot and start in right away, writing. I want to wake up my man with some coffee and maybe some sugar too. Once he’s off working or playing I will work more, putt around the garden, do some canning, plan a great dinner and a relaxing massage for my sweetie.
When my advance checks come in for the books I’ve written I’ll pay to have my sweetie’s bumper rechromed or get him that fishing reel he’s been drooling over in one of his outdoors magazines (or whatever he’s into). I like to spoil my man and he’ll want to spoil me too (or he won’t be my man). Sometimes the hunky husband will take me around the area to take pictures and add to my photography portfolio, which is already extensive. We’ll enjoy every moment together. He will encourage me in my work and I will encourage him in whatever he likes to do. We will help each other and build each other up in the most loving ways. Even though I dig around in the garden, I keep myself looking nice, keep my nails done, keep my toenails painted, get facials and wear attractive clothes. I want to keep my man happy and satisfied.
Part of this dream includes a St. Bernard and a Bloodhound laying on the front porch, however, this would depend on where this is and whether or not travel plays a big role in our lives. I enjoy travel so if the hunky husband wanted to travel, I’d do it. I’ll just write some travel articles from it. Hehe (Told you, I have to be productive. For instance, I’m at work, but there is nothing to do, so I’m blogging. It’s production, right? Someday this may all be in a book.)
That’s my dream; lots of room for flexibility. I don’t live that dream now, but I’m happy. If I met someone and they just moved in, that would work, but this is My Ideal Life.
Humpty Dumpette
Throughout the posts so far in this blog, I’ve been fairly hard on myself. I’ve laid out my faults that other people point out in me and tried to see things through their eyes and explore what that all means. Now let me tell you how I view myself, the things I think I have to offer the world and the things people most often misunderstand about me. I’ll fit the pieces of me back together so you can see what this Humpty Dumpette really looks like.
My Ex husband used to say to me, “You hate everyone.” The truth about that statement is that I detest drunks and most all the people he knew were drunks, so it probably seemed that way to him. And I don’t hate anyone, but I don’t have to associate with everyone who crosses my path either. I’m choosy about the company I keep. I don’t need a house full of loud, boisterous people to make me feel important.
One of these I’ve already gone over, my temper. People have said to me, “You get so angry.” Yes, I do, in short micro-bursts that last from 1-5 minutes. That’s how I cope. There is no slow building to eruption. I don’t store poison gas and save it up for major drama later on. I blow my steam regularly. That’s the way I deal with things. It’s a bit unsettling for some people but I have quite a few tips for those interested in learning how to live with this part of my personality.
I guess you only really hear from people when they have something to complain about. I guess they forget the compassion I’ve shown when taking in homeless people into my home? I guess they missed the two years I volunteered at the food bank and talked to the clients there as though they were my best friends because there was a chance I may be the only one to treat them with dignity that day. Obviously I don’t hate people and there are plenty of times I’m not at all mad.
I’m outgoing. I can hold a conversation with just about anyone. I’m not intimidated by people of a higher social standing than myself (if I were I’d likely talk to no one). I enjoy learning new things so I love talking to people who live outside my own reality.
Perhaps I don’t look like a scholar… I’m not really, but I have above average intelligence. People would be mistaken to write me off as inconsequential. I am very observant and pick up on the little secrets people are keeping. I may even do some investigating to see if you’re yanking my chain. If you have a problem with that, don’t be pulling wool over my eyes. (I know what that means, intellectually, but what does it MEAN practically?) Anyway, I’m not as dumb as I look so don’t fuck with me.
My youngest son asked me the other day if a long time ago I’d told him I’d picked up dog poo and took it to the offending dog owner’s home… no, I didn’t… although, if the circumstances were just right, it does sound like something I might have done. I’m not afraid of confrontation if I feel it’s warranted.
I have a pretty good education for someone who has very little formal schooling. I dropped out of high school when I was 15 and was married when I was barely 17. (Mum figured it was better to let us get married before we had premarital sex. Hummm, which is worse, premarital sex or divorce?) I did go back to school when I was 19 and get my GED as part of the requirements to get into the Navy. But then 2 weeks before my physical I went out shooting guns (something I really enjoy) and damaged my hearing for good. Over the years I’ve taken all kinds of classes, a disjointed eclectic group of subjects. I even went to a real community college and made the Dean’s List. Who would have thunk it? Hehe
Starting in 1991 I began teaching myself how to use a computer. Back then I had a 1200 baud, dial-up modem and was thrilled to have it. It was one of my most valued tools. I learned DOS because Windows based programs weren’t common like they are now. I still needed to occasionally edit my config.sys and .bat files. My brain was like a sponge in the first few years. One trip to the computer repair shop was enough to tell me that if I wanted to keep using a computer, I also needed to learn how to fix one. I’ve always been good with electronics so I dove right in like I do with most things. The first thing I ever did on my own that was a really big deal to me then was install a sound card… I say big deal because I was terrified I would mess something up in there. I laugh at that now though.
I’ve learned a lot of things by DOING. I’m a hands-on kind of gal.
Here’s some of the jobs I’ve had in my lifetime:
* Dishwasher
* Waitress
* Lumber Mill Worker
* Psychiatric Aid
* Maid
* Human Resource Aid
* Wife/Mother
* Nurses Aid
* In Home Care Aid
* Freelance/Staff Writer
* Photographer
* Editor
* Public Speaker (didn’t dig this one too much)
* Managing Editor
* Video Monitor
* Intake Interviewer
* Page Editor
* Customer Care Agent
* Technical Writer
Each one of these occupations required learning new skills and I’ve been able to learn whatever was required of me with relative ease. I suppose acquiring the skills necessary to become a writer/editor were the hardest given my lack of formal education but I am very proud of how far I’ve come.
Many of my hobbies have required further expansion of my brain cells. Some of my hobbies have turned into ways to make a living, but so far I’m not rich.
* Wilderness Survival
* Photography (you had to use film and know how to use a darkroom)
* Writing
* Mushroom Hunting
* Herbal Medicine (wild and domestic)
* Building Things
* Gardening (Spent countless hours studying plants)
* Model Rocket Building/Firing
* Muscle Cars
* Welding
* Landscaping
* Pond Building
* Sustainable Living
* Log Cabin Building
* Interior Design
* Making Scented Products (soap, incense, face cream, lip balm, etc.)
* Growing Top Quality Bud (relatively new interest)
Okay, so you get now that I’m no slouch in the IQ department.
One fault I recognize in myself (and this one may need a blog entry of its own someday) is that I’m too forgiving. I give people the benefit of the doubt for far too long; especially if I love that person. I wish I could say, “Ah, Nah, Fuck that,” and just cut people out of my life like other people do. But I’m an eternal optimist when it comes to wanting to believe that people will do the right thing. Funny how often they don’t though. I never seem to learn. But Jesus taught us to turn the other cheek, even when we know it’s not going to turn out any better. We’re not supposed to give up on people, just like God doesn’t give up on us. However, I need to learn to tell the difference between second chances and taking advantage of my kindness.
I know this entry is a bit long and disjointed and never really did get all the pieces of me in here… but it’s getting too long. I’m sure I’ll be touching on this more in the future because there are a lot of pieces to this Humpty Dumpette.
Throughout the posts so far in this blog, I’ve been fairly hard on myself. I’ve laid out my faults that other people point out in me and tried to see things through their eyes and explore what that all means. Now let me tell you how I view myself, the things I think I have to offer the world and the things people most often misunderstand about me. I’ll fit the pieces of me back together so you can see what this Humpty Dumpette really looks like.
My Ex husband used to say to me, “You hate everyone.” The truth about that statement is that I detest drunks and most all the people he knew were drunks, so it probably seemed that way to him. And I don’t hate anyone, but I don’t have to associate with everyone who crosses my path either. I’m choosy about the company I keep. I don’t need a house full of loud, boisterous people to make me feel important.
One of these I’ve already gone over, my temper. People have said to me, “You get so angry.” Yes, I do, in short micro-bursts that last from 1-5 minutes. That’s how I cope. There is no slow building to eruption. I don’t store poison gas and save it up for major drama later on. I blow my steam regularly. That’s the way I deal with things. It’s a bit unsettling for some people but I have quite a few tips for those interested in learning how to live with this part of my personality.
I guess you only really hear from people when they have something to complain about. I guess they forget the compassion I’ve shown when taking in homeless people into my home? I guess they missed the two years I volunteered at the food bank and talked to the clients there as though they were my best friends because there was a chance I may be the only one to treat them with dignity that day. Obviously I don’t hate people and there are plenty of times I’m not at all mad.
I’m outgoing. I can hold a conversation with just about anyone. I’m not intimidated by people of a higher social standing than myself (if I were I’d likely talk to no one). I enjoy learning new things so I love talking to people who live outside my own reality.
Perhaps I don’t look like a scholar… I’m not really, but I have above average intelligence. People would be mistaken to write me off as inconsequential. I am very observant and pick up on the little secrets people are keeping. I may even do some investigating to see if you’re yanking my chain. If you have a problem with that, don’t be pulling wool over my eyes. (I know what that means, intellectually, but what does it MEAN practically?) Anyway, I’m not as dumb as I look so don’t fuck with me.
My youngest son asked me the other day if a long time ago I’d told him I’d picked up dog poo and took it to the offending dog owner’s home… no, I didn’t… although, if the circumstances were just right, it does sound like something I might have done. I’m not afraid of confrontation if I feel it’s warranted.
I have a pretty good education for someone who has very little formal schooling. I dropped out of high school when I was 15 and was married when I was barely 17. (Mum figured it was better to let us get married before we had premarital sex. Hummm, which is worse, premarital sex or divorce?) I did go back to school when I was 19 and get my GED as part of the requirements to get into the Navy. But then 2 weeks before my physical I went out shooting guns (something I really enjoy) and damaged my hearing for good. Over the years I’ve taken all kinds of classes, a disjointed eclectic group of subjects. I even went to a real community college and made the Dean’s List. Who would have thunk it? Hehe
Starting in 1991 I began teaching myself how to use a computer. Back then I had a 1200 baud, dial-up modem and was thrilled to have it. It was one of my most valued tools. I learned DOS because Windows based programs weren’t common like they are now. I still needed to occasionally edit my config.sys and .bat files. My brain was like a sponge in the first few years. One trip to the computer repair shop was enough to tell me that if I wanted to keep using a computer, I also needed to learn how to fix one. I’ve always been good with electronics so I dove right in like I do with most things. The first thing I ever did on my own that was a really big deal to me then was install a sound card… I say big deal because I was terrified I would mess something up in there. I laugh at that now though.
I’ve learned a lot of things by DOING. I’m a hands-on kind of gal.
Here’s some of the jobs I’ve had in my lifetime:
* Dishwasher
* Waitress
* Lumber Mill Worker
* Psychiatric Aid
* Maid
* Human Resource Aid
* Wife/Mother
* Nurses Aid
* In Home Care Aid
* Freelance/Staff Writer
* Photographer
* Editor
* Public Speaker (didn’t dig this one too much)
* Managing Editor
* Video Monitor
* Intake Interviewer
* Page Editor
* Customer Care Agent
* Technical Writer
Each one of these occupations required learning new skills and I’ve been able to learn whatever was required of me with relative ease. I suppose acquiring the skills necessary to become a writer/editor were the hardest given my lack of formal education but I am very proud of how far I’ve come.
Many of my hobbies have required further expansion of my brain cells. Some of my hobbies have turned into ways to make a living, but so far I’m not rich.
* Wilderness Survival
* Photography (you had to use film and know how to use a darkroom)
* Writing
* Mushroom Hunting
* Herbal Medicine (wild and domestic)
* Building Things
* Gardening (Spent countless hours studying plants)
* Model Rocket Building/Firing
* Muscle Cars
* Welding
* Landscaping
* Pond Building
* Sustainable Living
* Log Cabin Building
* Interior Design
* Making Scented Products (soap, incense, face cream, lip balm, etc.)
* Growing Top Quality Bud (relatively new interest)
Okay, so you get now that I’m no slouch in the IQ department.
One fault I recognize in myself (and this one may need a blog entry of its own someday) is that I’m too forgiving. I give people the benefit of the doubt for far too long; especially if I love that person. I wish I could say, “Ah, Nah, Fuck that,” and just cut people out of my life like other people do. But I’m an eternal optimist when it comes to wanting to believe that people will do the right thing. Funny how often they don’t though. I never seem to learn. But Jesus taught us to turn the other cheek, even when we know it’s not going to turn out any better. We’re not supposed to give up on people, just like God doesn’t give up on us. However, I need to learn to tell the difference between second chances and taking advantage of my kindness.
I know this entry is a bit long and disjointed and never really did get all the pieces of me in here… but it’s getting too long. I’m sure I’ll be touching on this more in the future because there are a lot of pieces to this Humpty Dumpette.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Levels of Intensity in Passion and Spooning
The other day I was in one of my self-analytical moods and owned the fact that I am intense about everything I’m passionate about from hobbies to relationships. I’ve had 50 years to sort out my likes and dislike; I know what I want and what I don’t want. For me, there are really only two levels of passion, “off” and “on.”
I don’t do anything halfway. When I experience something I want to immerse myself in it. When I learn about something new I want to do nothing but that for a while until I’ve had my fill. Then I’ll back away and come back to it again at a much more relaxed pace. Most of my passions are creative and usually have to do with creating comfort of one kind or another. It might be having a nice stack of big fluffy towels at my disposal to learning how to do stained glass (the latter I intend to get to at some point in my life).
Likewise, I know what I want in a man and I'm intense in relationships too. Men think women like me are trying to get them married right away. NOT true at all actually, not for me anyway. I’m not in a hurry to be married, just in a hurry to be happy.
I spent 20 years in a loveless/sexless marriage. I loved my husband but he was never in love with me. You cannot make someone love you and you can’t love someone just because you want to. So when I do meet someone who meets the basic requirements, I’m interested, but when they meet many of my farther reaching hopes and dreams too, then I’m intense.
By intense I don’t mean I’m a stalker or anything. I just fantasize about holding hands, kissing, making out, sex, companionship; about the things we could do together and I wonder about our level of domestic compatibility… I'm usually one step ahead of the actual happenings. I don’t know if other people think that way or not, I just know I do and I want to experience each step in the process to the nth degree.
I am no less intense about my work. I focus in and work like mad until I complete the task at hand. (I once worked long hours and wrote the rough draft of of my first novel in 63 days, conceptualizing as I went.) I’ve worked myself right out of a job because I pride myself in efficiency and production.
My hobby explorations or personal projects receive the same level of intense focus. I hardly slept and neglected housework for three whole days while I hand crafted a Monopoly board that would not only hold up to four kids but hopefully withstand generations of abuse. It is important to me to do everything well. I have stopped expecting perfection but I haven’t given up striving for it.
When I do something, I intend to do it right. Whatever it takes to get the job done the way it’s intended to be done, I do, from hobbies to relationships. I don’t begin a project or a romance with failure in mind. I intend to be successful at whatever I do. People admire that in me, usually, and I admire it in myself or I wouldn’t be that way.
Sometimes I forget that others may be conditioned to expect failure due to things they have experienced prior to this time. Or they may not be able to see the bigger picture like I can. The same thing often happens when I am building something. I can explain my idea to most people until I’m blue in the face but until they see the finished project, they can’t fathom it, not really.
I trust my instincts and I go with them. If I’m wrong then I still have time to try something else. I’m not trying to force square pegs into round holes in my life, just trying to get all the elements to line up like spoons in a drawer… Most humans are content in a spooning situation, right? I want to spoon my way through life.
I don’t do anything halfway. When I experience something I want to immerse myself in it. When I learn about something new I want to do nothing but that for a while until I’ve had my fill. Then I’ll back away and come back to it again at a much more relaxed pace. Most of my passions are creative and usually have to do with creating comfort of one kind or another. It might be having a nice stack of big fluffy towels at my disposal to learning how to do stained glass (the latter I intend to get to at some point in my life).
Likewise, I know what I want in a man and I'm intense in relationships too. Men think women like me are trying to get them married right away. NOT true at all actually, not for me anyway. I’m not in a hurry to be married, just in a hurry to be happy.
I spent 20 years in a loveless/sexless marriage. I loved my husband but he was never in love with me. You cannot make someone love you and you can’t love someone just because you want to. So when I do meet someone who meets the basic requirements, I’m interested, but when they meet many of my farther reaching hopes and dreams too, then I’m intense.
By intense I don’t mean I’m a stalker or anything. I just fantasize about holding hands, kissing, making out, sex, companionship; about the things we could do together and I wonder about our level of domestic compatibility… I'm usually one step ahead of the actual happenings. I don’t know if other people think that way or not, I just know I do and I want to experience each step in the process to the nth degree.
I am no less intense about my work. I focus in and work like mad until I complete the task at hand. (I once worked long hours and wrote the rough draft of of my first novel in 63 days, conceptualizing as I went.) I’ve worked myself right out of a job because I pride myself in efficiency and production.
My hobby explorations or personal projects receive the same level of intense focus. I hardly slept and neglected housework for three whole days while I hand crafted a Monopoly board that would not only hold up to four kids but hopefully withstand generations of abuse. It is important to me to do everything well. I have stopped expecting perfection but I haven’t given up striving for it.
When I do something, I intend to do it right. Whatever it takes to get the job done the way it’s intended to be done, I do, from hobbies to relationships. I don’t begin a project or a romance with failure in mind. I intend to be successful at whatever I do. People admire that in me, usually, and I admire it in myself or I wouldn’t be that way.
Sometimes I forget that others may be conditioned to expect failure due to things they have experienced prior to this time. Or they may not be able to see the bigger picture like I can. The same thing often happens when I am building something. I can explain my idea to most people until I’m blue in the face but until they see the finished project, they can’t fathom it, not really.
I trust my instincts and I go with them. If I’m wrong then I still have time to try something else. I’m not trying to force square pegs into round holes in my life, just trying to get all the elements to line up like spoons in a drawer… Most humans are content in a spooning situation, right? I want to spoon my way through life.
I’m OK you’re OK… Well, I’m OK Anyway
So what am I learning through all this self exploration? I don’t really know except that while all the components of my personality are not for everyone, as a whole they make up ME. I have to be able to love myself and I do, just the way I am. I’m a moderately overweight, aging, medical marijuana smoking writer/photographer who jumps into everything with both feet. If problems arise I fix them and move on. I don’t find too many obstacles in life, just roadblocks and detours. If I want something I keep moving the route until I find a way to get to my destination.
My mind is constantly sifting through the data that assails my senses looking for only the fragments that will give me a true picture of how things REALLY are, not the perceptions people are trying to give me. So now I’m trying to sift my own data to get a clear read on who I really am.
I am a good judge of people and I notice things that other people may not. I notice subtle changes in mood and demeanor. I know when someone is trying to get something for nothing. I know when someone likes a gift I’ve given them on not, even though they swear they do when they don’t. I can spot a liar from afar, standing over there next to the thieves.
My perceptive nature carries over into my online relationships with people. I have been online since before there were graphics on the Internet, heck, I’ve been online since before the Internet was open to the public. (I remember getting special permission to have a look around because I was a magazine editor at the time.) I have had online business partners I never met but worked very well with, I’ve collaborated with other writers online, I’ve maintained friendships for close to two decades, I have been hired online, had jobs as long as 3 years without ever meeting my bosses… I can read people. That makes some people extremely uncomfortable, especially those who are not being honest with me about something. People make a mistake too when they write me off as clueless because I’m far from it.
I’m not saying I haven’t been had a time or two but let me tell you, those experiences that haven’t killed me have made me that much stronger and more determined than ever to find my peace in life.
One thing I don’t get about the human race is how everyone has this exaggerated sense of entitlement. Everything has to be perfect. There’s no molding and shaping things to fit together for the common good. It has to come preassembled and in perfect working order right out of the box.
If there is one thing I’ve learned in the last five years it’s that people aren’t disposable. I don’t toss my friends and family members aside when they do something that displeases me or that I disapprove of. I love them because they are unique and I respect that they have made their own decisions in life using the brain God gave them. I often wonder why I’m not given the same consideration. People are so quick to judge me and I’m not having it anymore. God is the only judge whose gavel carries weight with me.
All I can tell you is that I know that my motives are pure, I know I live by the Golden Rule and that my love is generous and sincere. I don’t lie, cheat or steal. I have paid back all my bad Karma from my early years and nothing but good things should be coming my way now. If I die tomorrow, I’m okay with how I’ve lived my life.
I have nothing I’m ashamed of, nothing to hide and I know I’m a good person. I’m OK.
My mind is constantly sifting through the data that assails my senses looking for only the fragments that will give me a true picture of how things REALLY are, not the perceptions people are trying to give me. So now I’m trying to sift my own data to get a clear read on who I really am.
I am a good judge of people and I notice things that other people may not. I notice subtle changes in mood and demeanor. I know when someone is trying to get something for nothing. I know when someone likes a gift I’ve given them on not, even though they swear they do when they don’t. I can spot a liar from afar, standing over there next to the thieves.
My perceptive nature carries over into my online relationships with people. I have been online since before there were graphics on the Internet, heck, I’ve been online since before the Internet was open to the public. (I remember getting special permission to have a look around because I was a magazine editor at the time.) I have had online business partners I never met but worked very well with, I’ve collaborated with other writers online, I’ve maintained friendships for close to two decades, I have been hired online, had jobs as long as 3 years without ever meeting my bosses… I can read people. That makes some people extremely uncomfortable, especially those who are not being honest with me about something. People make a mistake too when they write me off as clueless because I’m far from it.
I’m not saying I haven’t been had a time or two but let me tell you, those experiences that haven’t killed me have made me that much stronger and more determined than ever to find my peace in life.
One thing I don’t get about the human race is how everyone has this exaggerated sense of entitlement. Everything has to be perfect. There’s no molding and shaping things to fit together for the common good. It has to come preassembled and in perfect working order right out of the box.
If there is one thing I’ve learned in the last five years it’s that people aren’t disposable. I don’t toss my friends and family members aside when they do something that displeases me or that I disapprove of. I love them because they are unique and I respect that they have made their own decisions in life using the brain God gave them. I often wonder why I’m not given the same consideration. People are so quick to judge me and I’m not having it anymore. God is the only judge whose gavel carries weight with me.
All I can tell you is that I know that my motives are pure, I know I live by the Golden Rule and that my love is generous and sincere. I don’t lie, cheat or steal. I have paid back all my bad Karma from my early years and nothing but good things should be coming my way now. If I die tomorrow, I’m okay with how I’ve lived my life.
I have nothing I’m ashamed of, nothing to hide and I know I’m a good person. I’m OK.
Friday, August 14, 2009
One Word for Me -- INTENSE
“You always get so mad!” Yes, I have an explosive temper… Micro bursts which last a few minutes, one to three times a week. Since this is the complaint I get most often from family members, this trait needs to be studied.
There are certain circumstances which are guaranteed to set me off. (Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter, it just is. This is me, raw and uncut.) One of these is getting stuck behind someone going slow in the fast lane on the way home from work. There is just about no excuse for blocking that lane anyway (read your manual bone-head), but the person who blocks me on purpose and then mocks me in their mirrors…they are the worst. The level of my anger and the length of time I rant is directly proportional to how many miles I’m trapped behind them.
The maddest I’ve ever been was from one such incident. I was stuck behind her for 11 miles. I’d gotten on the highway and got right behind her. She kept me pinned behind her for about 2 miles when she finally moved over and let me by. I’m driving along with the flow of traffic when all of a sudden I see her come flying up in the slow lane and she zoomed in front of me cutting me off. I had to hit the brakes. She was one of the mirror mocker types too. Giving me the, hum-hum-hum” look that says, “I’m so pleased with myself for pissing you off for no reason.” She continued to make certain there was no way for me to pass her all the way home. She would get next to a car in the slow lane and then slow down to the same speed. There was a line of pissed off people behind me too.
The woman lives in my neighborhood I found out when we both stopped at the same row of mailboxes. She weighs at least 400 pounds and probably couldn’t fight her way out of a wet paper bag. What’s more, there is a big number 4 sticker on the back of her car. Not smart to go out of your way to make someone angry if they are gonna know where you live. I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to me but that explosive rant lasted a good half hour after I got home and truth be told, I’m still pissed off about it. If I were someone with less self restraint, she would be dead right now. What if I wasn’t the type who explodes to release steam periodically and had pent-up anger issues? She might have been a nightmare for some paramedics and I would be in jail.
I know this about myself though so I know I’ll never kill anyone in anger. I have never hit anyone either. I just get angry and yell.
Another thing that will set me off is someone not doing their part. Everyone has responsibilities and when someone doesn’t do their share, someone else has to pick up the slack, namely me, and that cuts into my personal time. This one takes a while to build to an explosive level and the offenders get plenty of warnings before I blow. But eventually it will happen and those who have lived through one on my tongue lashings will tell you I am among the best tongue lashers out there. When I’m finished, you know you’ve been yelled at.
The only other thing that makes me explode is when things don’t work right. You know, like when the egg shells won’t come off a hard-boiled egg when I’m being very careful. Sometimes the eggs end up squished. Likewise I also come uncorked when my pie crust sticks to my rolling pin. I do recognize my shortcomings and plan around them.
Having someone else peel the eggs and make the pie crust helps if there is someone around to do these things for me, but it isn’t always possible. Other tedious jobs may make this explosive list also. So really, if I could get through life without having to drive and I didn’t ever have to depend on anyone for anything other than peeling eggs and making pie crust, I would never explode.
My mother used to call it the “Cooper Curse.” I call it “Black Rage.” It’s all the same thing though, an explosive temper. Back as far as at least my great grandmother, all the women on my mother’s side of the family have had it.
The quickest way to calm me is to agree that it’s terrible what’s upsetting me, and hand me a loaded pipe. I’ll be right as rain in no time.
The funny thing about anger is that it always appears when you don’t want it to and can’t be summoned for help when you need it, like to get you over a broken heart. It would be much easier to be angry than it is to feel helpless.
I am an intense person. I throw my all into everything I do. If I’m interested in a new hobby I get into it in a big way. If I want to learn about a new topic I read everything I can get my hands on. If I love I love with wild abandon. And when I get angry, sometimes I explode. I am intense and I make no apologies to anyone for being myself.
There are certain circumstances which are guaranteed to set me off. (Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter, it just is. This is me, raw and uncut.) One of these is getting stuck behind someone going slow in the fast lane on the way home from work. There is just about no excuse for blocking that lane anyway (read your manual bone-head), but the person who blocks me on purpose and then mocks me in their mirrors…they are the worst. The level of my anger and the length of time I rant is directly proportional to how many miles I’m trapped behind them.
The maddest I’ve ever been was from one such incident. I was stuck behind her for 11 miles. I’d gotten on the highway and got right behind her. She kept me pinned behind her for about 2 miles when she finally moved over and let me by. I’m driving along with the flow of traffic when all of a sudden I see her come flying up in the slow lane and she zoomed in front of me cutting me off. I had to hit the brakes. She was one of the mirror mocker types too. Giving me the, hum-hum-hum” look that says, “I’m so pleased with myself for pissing you off for no reason.” She continued to make certain there was no way for me to pass her all the way home. She would get next to a car in the slow lane and then slow down to the same speed. There was a line of pissed off people behind me too.
The woman lives in my neighborhood I found out when we both stopped at the same row of mailboxes. She weighs at least 400 pounds and probably couldn’t fight her way out of a wet paper bag. What’s more, there is a big number 4 sticker on the back of her car. Not smart to go out of your way to make someone angry if they are gonna know where you live. I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to me but that explosive rant lasted a good half hour after I got home and truth be told, I’m still pissed off about it. If I were someone with less self restraint, she would be dead right now. What if I wasn’t the type who explodes to release steam periodically and had pent-up anger issues? She might have been a nightmare for some paramedics and I would be in jail.
I know this about myself though so I know I’ll never kill anyone in anger. I have never hit anyone either. I just get angry and yell.
Another thing that will set me off is someone not doing their part. Everyone has responsibilities and when someone doesn’t do their share, someone else has to pick up the slack, namely me, and that cuts into my personal time. This one takes a while to build to an explosive level and the offenders get plenty of warnings before I blow. But eventually it will happen and those who have lived through one on my tongue lashings will tell you I am among the best tongue lashers out there. When I’m finished, you know you’ve been yelled at.
The only other thing that makes me explode is when things don’t work right. You know, like when the egg shells won’t come off a hard-boiled egg when I’m being very careful. Sometimes the eggs end up squished. Likewise I also come uncorked when my pie crust sticks to my rolling pin. I do recognize my shortcomings and plan around them.
Having someone else peel the eggs and make the pie crust helps if there is someone around to do these things for me, but it isn’t always possible. Other tedious jobs may make this explosive list also. So really, if I could get through life without having to drive and I didn’t ever have to depend on anyone for anything other than peeling eggs and making pie crust, I would never explode.
My mother used to call it the “Cooper Curse.” I call it “Black Rage.” It’s all the same thing though, an explosive temper. Back as far as at least my great grandmother, all the women on my mother’s side of the family have had it.
The quickest way to calm me is to agree that it’s terrible what’s upsetting me, and hand me a loaded pipe. I’ll be right as rain in no time.
The funny thing about anger is that it always appears when you don’t want it to and can’t be summoned for help when you need it, like to get you over a broken heart. It would be much easier to be angry than it is to feel helpless.
I am an intense person. I throw my all into everything I do. If I’m interested in a new hobby I get into it in a big way. If I want to learn about a new topic I read everything I can get my hands on. If I love I love with wild abandon. And when I get angry, sometimes I explode. I am intense and I make no apologies to anyone for being myself.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
The Color of My Perceptions
My view on the world is colored by the experiences I’ve had and the people I’ve come into contact with throughout my life. My view of a situation is completely different than yours because my experience in life has been different than yours. A simple illustration of this would be that Lesley loves egg salad sandwiches but I don’t because a teacher once forced me to eat a warm egg salad sandwich out of the garbage. The causes for the different feelings about the same issues won’t always be as obvious as this example but you get the idea.
One of my colored perceptions is about alcohol. Most people are okay to have a few drinks themselves or are okay with loved ones or spouses having a few drinks. I try to be okay with it but I really am not. My perception of alcohol is colored not only by deeply engrained religious beliefs that drinking is a sin, but also by societal conditioning.
Society at large has put the stamp of approval on alcohol. Everyone does it so it must be okay, right? In my personal experiences being married to an alcoholic for 20 years is that it is not the case. Alcohol destroyed my family (and I don’t even drink). I’ve watched as alcohol has zapped every ounce of joy out of the lives of people I have loved. I’ve had friends and murdered by drunks. I’ve been to otherwise enjoyable events only to have them spoiled by alcohol.
I can be happy as a clam, having a great time, reveling in joy and when alcohol is brought into the mix it’s ruined for me, the party is over. (Remember, you don’t have to agree here, and most won’t. This is my perception.)
My husband raped me, twice in one evening, while hopped up on a combination of alcohol and cocaine. To this day I can’t stand to make love to someone who has alcohol on their breath.
I’m not sure if in my brain I thinks I am going to have a living room full of passed out drunks after the Super Bowl party or what, but as soon as someone breaks out the alcohol, a dark cloud settles over my mood and I find myself looking for methods of extracting myself from their midst. In turn, other people’s perceptions of me are colored by their life experiences and the things they were taught as children.
For instance, most people were taught that marijuana is bad, myself included. In fact, smoking is a sin because our bodies are the temple of God and we are not supposed to desecrate the temple. However, during my youth I actually tried marijuana for myself and I knew that everything I’d been taught about it was a lie. First off, God’s not against it, He created it! Not only did I debunk the idea that God was somehow frowning disapproval at me for becoming a medical marijuana patient last year; through my study of the bible I made peace with God about it. Yes, He would rather I use a vaporizer but until I get one, He is okay with my choosing to use marijuana rather than run the risk of addiction to pain pills (which, by-the-way, were not created by Him).
I’ve been taking part in online dating and as you might suspect, 98% are repelled by the revelation that I’m a medical marijuana patient, even though it says on their profile that they drink “often>more than three times a week.” That is the pot calling the kettle black.
I’ve never been to a party that ended badly because of weed. I’ve never seen a marriage torn apart because of it either. For me, there are no evil connotations associated with marijuana use like there are with alcohol consumption. No dark cloud rolls over the room when someone brings out a joint. (Pot clouds are white.)
I guess the trick is to try and find a mate who sees the same perceptive colors that I do. I don’t know how to be honestly comfortable with my man drinking anymore than I know how to make someone that isn’t, comfortable with my medical marijuana use. What color is your perception?
Marijuana has given me my life back. I can sleep straight through the night now. I am able to cope with the pain of Spinal Osteoarthritis and chronic back pain without the heavy use of narcotics. I can function in society and hold down a full-time job. I am much better able to cope with my depression and anxiety.
The color of my perception is GREEN in this instance, but this is only one perception about one topic and there are many more to come.
One of my colored perceptions is about alcohol. Most people are okay to have a few drinks themselves or are okay with loved ones or spouses having a few drinks. I try to be okay with it but I really am not. My perception of alcohol is colored not only by deeply engrained religious beliefs that drinking is a sin, but also by societal conditioning.
Society at large has put the stamp of approval on alcohol. Everyone does it so it must be okay, right? In my personal experiences being married to an alcoholic for 20 years is that it is not the case. Alcohol destroyed my family (and I don’t even drink). I’ve watched as alcohol has zapped every ounce of joy out of the lives of people I have loved. I’ve had friends and murdered by drunks. I’ve been to otherwise enjoyable events only to have them spoiled by alcohol.
I can be happy as a clam, having a great time, reveling in joy and when alcohol is brought into the mix it’s ruined for me, the party is over. (Remember, you don’t have to agree here, and most won’t. This is my perception.)
My husband raped me, twice in one evening, while hopped up on a combination of alcohol and cocaine. To this day I can’t stand to make love to someone who has alcohol on their breath.
I’m not sure if in my brain I thinks I am going to have a living room full of passed out drunks after the Super Bowl party or what, but as soon as someone breaks out the alcohol, a dark cloud settles over my mood and I find myself looking for methods of extracting myself from their midst. In turn, other people’s perceptions of me are colored by their life experiences and the things they were taught as children.
For instance, most people were taught that marijuana is bad, myself included. In fact, smoking is a sin because our bodies are the temple of God and we are not supposed to desecrate the temple. However, during my youth I actually tried marijuana for myself and I knew that everything I’d been taught about it was a lie. First off, God’s not against it, He created it! Not only did I debunk the idea that God was somehow frowning disapproval at me for becoming a medical marijuana patient last year; through my study of the bible I made peace with God about it. Yes, He would rather I use a vaporizer but until I get one, He is okay with my choosing to use marijuana rather than run the risk of addiction to pain pills (which, by-the-way, were not created by Him).
I’ve been taking part in online dating and as you might suspect, 98% are repelled by the revelation that I’m a medical marijuana patient, even though it says on their profile that they drink “often>more than three times a week.” That is the pot calling the kettle black.
I’ve never been to a party that ended badly because of weed. I’ve never seen a marriage torn apart because of it either. For me, there are no evil connotations associated with marijuana use like there are with alcohol consumption. No dark cloud rolls over the room when someone brings out a joint. (Pot clouds are white.)
I guess the trick is to try and find a mate who sees the same perceptive colors that I do. I don’t know how to be honestly comfortable with my man drinking anymore than I know how to make someone that isn’t, comfortable with my medical marijuana use. What color is your perception?
Marijuana has given me my life back. I can sleep straight through the night now. I am able to cope with the pain of Spinal Osteoarthritis and chronic back pain without the heavy use of narcotics. I can function in society and hold down a full-time job. I am much better able to cope with my depression and anxiety.
The color of my perception is GREEN in this instance, but this is only one perception about one topic and there are many more to come.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
All the Parts of Me
I have a split personality. I will be talking to someone and suddenly I become someone else to fit the occasion. Sometimes I'm my mother or father or brother and sometimes I am my ex husband whom I was with for 20 years. Occasionally I will become a friend or co-worker. In my head I hear their voices in place of mine. I see their facial expressions and their mannerisms in my mind's eye as I'm speaking.
My personality, it seems, is nothing but a collection of bits of other personalities gathered from people who have played roles in my life. I have no strengths of my own so I use theirs. My mother plays all the roles of wisdom. My father comes out in me when I'm feeling witty. My brother is convincing and confident in what he knows and believes in. The ex husband comes out in me when I find humor in a situation and I'm trying to be funny. (It didn't always work for him either.) My mother used to tell me that she could tell who I'd been playing with as a child because I would start talking like them right away.
If I strip away all the other personalities I am left with very little of myself. I don't know which parts are only me anymore. Are there any parts of me in there or are all people just conglomerations of people in their lives?
Why would a person replace parts of themselves with nuances from other people? In patients with Split Personality Disorder people often split off into personalities of individuals who are better equipped to deal with a given situation than they themselves are. I suppose my situation is like that in that I have learned to use those personalities to camouflage my weaknesses in some way. No one ever calls me on it because they see those instances as just more parts of my personality emerging. They don’t realize those parts of myself are gleaned from the people in my life who have had the greatest influence in shaping who I’ve become.
If I strip away all the layers that are all these other people, what am I left with? Can I strip them away and have anything left? I have tried to get in close and look for parts that are all me but they are buried so deeply under the aspects I possess of other people that I don’t recognize the true me anymore.
The people in my life see all those aspects of me to be mine alone so when they mimic a part of me, they are actually playing out a role that I imitated from someone else many years ago. The pieces of these people that I borrowed were previously on loan from someone else entirely.
I could go to those who are still living and ask them where they got the part of them that I stole but I am sure that they would tell me I’m crazy, that all their personality parts are their own, but they know they aren’t, just as I know mine aren’t. It would take a strong person, willing to endure self examination with a critical eye to be able to withstand the psychological whiplash that occurs while delayering oneself.
After examining myself in this way, I was astounded to find that the only thing I haven’t mimicked from someone else in my life is my sexual self. That side of me is shaped inside my own head and through my own experiences in life. I’ve had no one to pattern this self from because I haven’t been in the room when another woman was engaged in sex. This side of me surely comes out of my primal self, right?
Actually, no, that isn’t only me either. My sexual likes and dislikes are a product of my early sexual experiences. If my partner approached a new experience for me in a positive, sexual way then I adapted that as something very stimulating and something possibly worth repeating. On the other hand however, if a lover was too rough or the climax didn’t happen, I would file that sexual experience away in the turn-off file and may not enjoy that aspect of sex any longer.
For instance, some of the best foreplay of my life was with my first husband when we were dating in high school. He was very gentle with me and very loving so all of my sexual memories of him were positive experiences which usually involved a lot of heavy petting through the outside of my clothes. So I still find being seduced through my panties to be a huge turn-on.
But then my mother comes out in me and she won’t let me explain this to any of the men who have been my lovers so I’ve left them guessing as to how to be the most successful in their seduction. The next time I’m fortunate enough to be in another relationship, I’m stuffing a sock in my mother’s mouth and I’m telling him all about how my sexual self was molded and how he can most efficiently connect with her.
The personality layers are there. People come and go in my life but I carry parts of them with me always. Rather than fearing I’ll be exposed as a fraud if someone recognizes in me a nuance of someone else, I will embrace the fact that, even in death or divorce, I retain a part of them that no one can ever take away.
My personality, it seems, is nothing but a collection of bits of other personalities gathered from people who have played roles in my life. I have no strengths of my own so I use theirs. My mother plays all the roles of wisdom. My father comes out in me when I'm feeling witty. My brother is convincing and confident in what he knows and believes in. The ex husband comes out in me when I find humor in a situation and I'm trying to be funny. (It didn't always work for him either.) My mother used to tell me that she could tell who I'd been playing with as a child because I would start talking like them right away.
If I strip away all the other personalities I am left with very little of myself. I don't know which parts are only me anymore. Are there any parts of me in there or are all people just conglomerations of people in their lives?
Why would a person replace parts of themselves with nuances from other people? In patients with Split Personality Disorder people often split off into personalities of individuals who are better equipped to deal with a given situation than they themselves are. I suppose my situation is like that in that I have learned to use those personalities to camouflage my weaknesses in some way. No one ever calls me on it because they see those instances as just more parts of my personality emerging. They don’t realize those parts of myself are gleaned from the people in my life who have had the greatest influence in shaping who I’ve become.
If I strip away all the layers that are all these other people, what am I left with? Can I strip them away and have anything left? I have tried to get in close and look for parts that are all me but they are buried so deeply under the aspects I possess of other people that I don’t recognize the true me anymore.
The people in my life see all those aspects of me to be mine alone so when they mimic a part of me, they are actually playing out a role that I imitated from someone else many years ago. The pieces of these people that I borrowed were previously on loan from someone else entirely.
I could go to those who are still living and ask them where they got the part of them that I stole but I am sure that they would tell me I’m crazy, that all their personality parts are their own, but they know they aren’t, just as I know mine aren’t. It would take a strong person, willing to endure self examination with a critical eye to be able to withstand the psychological whiplash that occurs while delayering oneself.
After examining myself in this way, I was astounded to find that the only thing I haven’t mimicked from someone else in my life is my sexual self. That side of me is shaped inside my own head and through my own experiences in life. I’ve had no one to pattern this self from because I haven’t been in the room when another woman was engaged in sex. This side of me surely comes out of my primal self, right?
Actually, no, that isn’t only me either. My sexual likes and dislikes are a product of my early sexual experiences. If my partner approached a new experience for me in a positive, sexual way then I adapted that as something very stimulating and something possibly worth repeating. On the other hand however, if a lover was too rough or the climax didn’t happen, I would file that sexual experience away in the turn-off file and may not enjoy that aspect of sex any longer.
For instance, some of the best foreplay of my life was with my first husband when we were dating in high school. He was very gentle with me and very loving so all of my sexual memories of him were positive experiences which usually involved a lot of heavy petting through the outside of my clothes. So I still find being seduced through my panties to be a huge turn-on.
But then my mother comes out in me and she won’t let me explain this to any of the men who have been my lovers so I’ve left them guessing as to how to be the most successful in their seduction. The next time I’m fortunate enough to be in another relationship, I’m stuffing a sock in my mother’s mouth and I’m telling him all about how my sexual self was molded and how he can most efficiently connect with her.
The personality layers are there. People come and go in my life but I carry parts of them with me always. Rather than fearing I’ll be exposed as a fraud if someone recognizes in me a nuance of someone else, I will embrace the fact that, even in death or divorce, I retain a part of them that no one can ever take away.
Starting Today
First some basic facts about myself. I am a 50 year old, divorced, white female, mother, grandmother, pet owner... I am a lot of things but uninhibited isn't one of them. I hope to change all that beginning today.
Please keep in mind that I am not trying to write a convincing argument to sway you over to seeing my point-of-view on topics, I am simply stating how I see things and how I feel about them, right or wrong, it doesn't matter, it simply IS.
I am not happy about being single again. I planned to stay married to my husband for the rest of my life but he had other plans. I lost my identity when my husband left. I am no longer anyone's wife. For the first year after he left, maybe longer, I couldn't bear to hear the word 'husband' because I no longer had one. It was like a knife stabbing into my soul every time I heard it. To me it seemed as though everyone had a husband but me. At least everyone who wanted one had one. I felt like something had been taken away from me. I felt betrayed because I thought he was supposed to be the one person I could count on to never let me down.
It wasn't the first time he'd left me. The first time was at the 12 year point in our marriage. I was devastated that time because I had four small children and no job. I accepted much more responsibility than I deserved for his leaving that time and ended up swallowing my pride and taking him back.
I was happy, for the most part... or there were long periods of time where I wasn't miserable at least. That's something I suppose. But happy? No, not really.
People have told me all my adult life that I have low self-esteem but I've always been offended by that. I didn't think it was true. But why then did I cling for another 8 years to a marriage that didn't really have anything in it for me. There were many things MISSING from my marriage... I made due but why did I do that?
There was never enough affection, I had to beg for sex and there were times I got it as seldom as twice a year. My husband was absent emotionally, drowning his emotions in incessant television watching and beer drinking. He was detached from the kids, rarely interacting past the point of scolding them for getting in the way of the television.
We have been divorced for five years now and I haven't found anyone new. Part of me doesn't feel I deserve to be happy. I get propositioned by men sometimes on the singles website I go to but it's not the same as having someone genuinely interested in you as a person. I want someone who likes the way I look, thinks I'm interesting and funny and sexy. I feel all those things. In my brain I still have those luscious breasts, perky butt and perfect lips. I'm often shocked when I see my mother looking back at me in the mirror.
You know, I love sex. Nothing turns me on more than to see that I am turning the guy on. When I see that desire on his face, there is no foreplay necessary (though it is always welcome). Woot!
It really turns me OFF when guys bring up sex in the getting-to-know-you stage of online dating, before meeting in most cases. Instant turnoff guys! (It's right up there with seeing you posing with giant dead fish you've caught in the past. Might turn on your guy friends but it's not gonna score you any points with the girls.) Talking about sex that soon SCREAMS "sexually depraved male." That tells me I'm gonna be paying for all the sex his ex didn't give him. It also means I'm gonna be paying for all her other sins as well. No thanks!
I don't know if women peak sexually later in life or what, but it's a damn shame someone hasn't scooped me up. I may look 50 on the outside but on the inside I'm a HOT Mama. I could really go for some hot steamy sex... but I am a woman and there has to be some love, respect and trust there first.
Men on dating sites are so much more attractive to me when they are interested in learning about my hobbies, passions and feelings than they are when holding up a big mouthed bass. (Men are CLUELESS.) That would be like me posing with my lasagna. Yeah, that will get me scooped right up. NOT.
Men who can build things, men who can work on cars (or men who can afford to leave those headaches to the mechanics), men who love deeply... that right there is a sexy man. I like to feel safe; he will get us there in one piece. I like to not have to drive when we go places. I like him to pick up my hand to hold it. I like him to pull me close and kiss me. He won't have to ask for much beyond that point. :)
You see, I can see myself in a wonderful relationship where we're both very happy, no one is doing without anything they need, sexually or emotionally. I want a relationship where both people are committed to living life according to the Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus type of relationship. (Should be required reading before marriage.) With both parties striving to make the other happy every day, how can a relationship like that go wrong?
Part of me feels I'm not in a happy relationship like that because I don't deserve it. Is that the low self-esteem talking or is there some reason I feel I don't deserve it? It's the little devil me, sitting on my shoulder and reminding me of all my faults, pointing out the warts of my personality, those which I am here myself to expose, one-by-one. Once that is done, I will be able to knock the little devil me off my shoulder and follow divine guidance into that blissfully fulfilling, final relationship.
(unedited)
Please keep in mind that I am not trying to write a convincing argument to sway you over to seeing my point-of-view on topics, I am simply stating how I see things and how I feel about them, right or wrong, it doesn't matter, it simply IS.
I am not happy about being single again. I planned to stay married to my husband for the rest of my life but he had other plans. I lost my identity when my husband left. I am no longer anyone's wife. For the first year after he left, maybe longer, I couldn't bear to hear the word 'husband' because I no longer had one. It was like a knife stabbing into my soul every time I heard it. To me it seemed as though everyone had a husband but me. At least everyone who wanted one had one. I felt like something had been taken away from me. I felt betrayed because I thought he was supposed to be the one person I could count on to never let me down.
It wasn't the first time he'd left me. The first time was at the 12 year point in our marriage. I was devastated that time because I had four small children and no job. I accepted much more responsibility than I deserved for his leaving that time and ended up swallowing my pride and taking him back.
I was happy, for the most part... or there were long periods of time where I wasn't miserable at least. That's something I suppose. But happy? No, not really.
People have told me all my adult life that I have low self-esteem but I've always been offended by that. I didn't think it was true. But why then did I cling for another 8 years to a marriage that didn't really have anything in it for me. There were many things MISSING from my marriage... I made due but why did I do that?
There was never enough affection, I had to beg for sex and there were times I got it as seldom as twice a year. My husband was absent emotionally, drowning his emotions in incessant television watching and beer drinking. He was detached from the kids, rarely interacting past the point of scolding them for getting in the way of the television.
We have been divorced for five years now and I haven't found anyone new. Part of me doesn't feel I deserve to be happy. I get propositioned by men sometimes on the singles website I go to but it's not the same as having someone genuinely interested in you as a person. I want someone who likes the way I look, thinks I'm interesting and funny and sexy. I feel all those things. In my brain I still have those luscious breasts, perky butt and perfect lips. I'm often shocked when I see my mother looking back at me in the mirror.
You know, I love sex. Nothing turns me on more than to see that I am turning the guy on. When I see that desire on his face, there is no foreplay necessary (though it is always welcome). Woot!
It really turns me OFF when guys bring up sex in the getting-to-know-you stage of online dating, before meeting in most cases. Instant turnoff guys! (It's right up there with seeing you posing with giant dead fish you've caught in the past. Might turn on your guy friends but it's not gonna score you any points with the girls.) Talking about sex that soon SCREAMS "sexually depraved male." That tells me I'm gonna be paying for all the sex his ex didn't give him. It also means I'm gonna be paying for all her other sins as well. No thanks!
I don't know if women peak sexually later in life or what, but it's a damn shame someone hasn't scooped me up. I may look 50 on the outside but on the inside I'm a HOT Mama. I could really go for some hot steamy sex... but I am a woman and there has to be some love, respect and trust there first.
Men on dating sites are so much more attractive to me when they are interested in learning about my hobbies, passions and feelings than they are when holding up a big mouthed bass. (Men are CLUELESS.) That would be like me posing with my lasagna. Yeah, that will get me scooped right up. NOT.
Men who can build things, men who can work on cars (or men who can afford to leave those headaches to the mechanics), men who love deeply... that right there is a sexy man. I like to feel safe; he will get us there in one piece. I like to not have to drive when we go places. I like him to pick up my hand to hold it. I like him to pull me close and kiss me. He won't have to ask for much beyond that point. :)
You see, I can see myself in a wonderful relationship where we're both very happy, no one is doing without anything they need, sexually or emotionally. I want a relationship where both people are committed to living life according to the Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus type of relationship. (Should be required reading before marriage.) With both parties striving to make the other happy every day, how can a relationship like that go wrong?
Part of me feels I'm not in a happy relationship like that because I don't deserve it. Is that the low self-esteem talking or is there some reason I feel I don't deserve it? It's the little devil me, sitting on my shoulder and reminding me of all my faults, pointing out the warts of my personality, those which I am here myself to expose, one-by-one. Once that is done, I will be able to knock the little devil me off my shoulder and follow divine guidance into that blissfully fulfilling, final relationship.
(unedited)
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