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I've checked out. I have no focus and no drive to complete anything. Once again those little nagging voices in the back of my head tell me that people don't like me, that I'm not good at my job, that I'm disappointing everyone, that I'm responsible for everything that's going wrong. I'm not content or satisfied with my body, my teaching style, my relationships with my friends, or what I'm planning to do with myself when I uproot once more and move overseas.
Korea, for all its quirks and befuddlements and frustrating idiosyncrasies, is my home. It's what I know, it's familiar, and it has provided me extensive shelter during the economic storm that seems much more severe back in the States. Leaving what I know and diving into the unknown, again, is obviously good for me and won't kill me...but it's severely distracting.
I have a lot to do and I don't feel like I'm good enough for it, recently anyway, and it's hampering my ability to get things accomplished, which compounds my feelings of ineptitude. My interests are scattered all over the place, and my brain and personality feel just as scattered. I'm so tired today!
Yesterday, without even proofreading it, I sent an email to my mom as an attempt to confront the issues I have with the way she treats me (and my grandma, and my brother). We'll see if she even acknowledges I said anything. That's the thing with emotional abuse: she won't even admit it's happening, and therefore I am just wrong because I'm overreacting and she's completely justified in doing anything she wants whenever she feels so inclined. I approached it very gently, without being too vague, and expressed only a portion of the iceberg of issues I have with her. I just don't know where it will go. Maybe I'm being extra hard on myself because it scares me to even go near reality with my mom.
It's terrifying.
3.25.2010
3.17.2010
same sad song
Having distanced myself for a significant time from frequent interpersonal interactions with my mother, I'd venture that it has allowed me a great deal of room to grow and heal. I want to love my mom, despite how hurtful she has been to me my entire life, and I want to have a positive, decent relationship with her. The idea of cutting that part out and not speaking to her again is almost out of the question, but the way she treats me, still, from so far away, makes me wonder if I would be better off.
When I do talk to her, she frequently cuts me off without letting me make a point or finish my statement, regardless of the topic. If it has to do with money, she simply can't be wrong. It's so difficult to discuss MY money matters and my approaches with her infallible, credit-is-evil stance, especially when for six years I've had a loan and credit cards and I'm not drowning in debt. What I'm doing is working for me, but I can't even tell her calmly about my mature money decisions, because her convictions are superior and she will cut me off mid-sentence to rant.
Not to mention, she'll openly slam my brother, or my dad, or my grandma. Three people I love and value, one of whom is dead, one of whom is in her last few years, and one with whom I should have a healthy relationship for the rest of my life. She doesn't hold back when she's feeling hateful, and she will criticize anyone and everyone. She especially does not treat me with respect when she is annoyed or angry.
***
I have to learn to let it go, to forgive it and accept it, and see it for what it is: her problem.
***
So in a different arena, I am thinking hard about the possibility of myself as a mother. Being surrounded by wonderful, adorable, bright, creative and affectionate children every day tugs hard at my maternal tendencies and encourages those hormones to amplify the sound of the "biological clock." Not that I feel like I'm getting older, but I feel zestful and young enough to remember my childhood and relate to my future children's experiences (at least somewhat). I feel healthier and more confident, but sometimes I wonder if I'm still under the power of all the emotional and physical and sexual abuse; I never, ever want to become an abuser. I will go to therapy forever to avoid it. I wish therapy were more available in Korea...or at least more accessible and affordable.
Wanting to have my own family is echoing pretty loudly in the back of my head, but being single and living in one of the worst countries for expatriate females to date a local means I'm still far, far away from that dream. It is kind of a dream. To add to that, I would like to heal some more, because I still think I'm a bit broken, and I would just end up breaking my kids.
***
There's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that Toby and I have an amazingly open and honest communication and long-distance pseudo-relationship. There is definitely no commitment involved, no expectations (usually), and we respect each other and marvel daily at how the other has grown and changed for the better. We support each other. We are best friends. We love each other very much.
The bad news is that I have thought of Toby this whole time as the man I'm meant to end up with. I like to entertain the idea of having his kids and his last name. I've wrapped my mind around him for over a decade, and I decided I didn't want to play the field any longer. On his side, however, he is just barely eking his way towards adulthood. He doesn't want kids, he isn't thinking about marriage, and he still wants to explore the field sexually. I can't fault him for that, obviously; it's his path and he's on it and that's just the fact of the matter. Besides that, I already had those experiences because my path took me there at a much earlier age. I'm finished with that. I'm not drawn by the mystery and taboo nature of a threesome, or kissing a girl, or serial one-night-stands. Now, those things are just old news.
So the decision I will have to make eventually is how to move on and attach my heart to another man. I've been dating, of course, and that's fine and it brings moderate satisfaction, briefly. Seoul is a dating desert, and the few men I've met who are interested in me are either really clingy or detached to a fault. I prefer the latter, obviously, because I can wash my hands of them much sooner. Because I've always, deep-down, remained loyal to Toby, at least in the long run, I wasn't really invested in having anything long-term with any boy here. Though it would be nice to have something work out and just be comfortable. My tentative residence here seems to have given me super powers of singledom. Having been with Toby for so long, I appreciate now having the liberty of doing whatever I want, all the time. Being single is hard to get used to, and sometimes I mistake it for being alone.
I am looking forward to the opportunity of dating around in a more mature category of men, preferably with no kids or ex-wives, who swoon over me and have realistic expectations and want to spend time with me. I'm not interested in watching another man grow up while I wait. Moving back to the States, even if it's only briefly, will probably be good for my confidence level.
***
Blah blah blah. I just talk about myself all the time. Blah blah blah.
When I do talk to her, she frequently cuts me off without letting me make a point or finish my statement, regardless of the topic. If it has to do with money, she simply can't be wrong. It's so difficult to discuss MY money matters and my approaches with her infallible, credit-is-evil stance, especially when for six years I've had a loan and credit cards and I'm not drowning in debt. What I'm doing is working for me, but I can't even tell her calmly about my mature money decisions, because her convictions are superior and she will cut me off mid-sentence to rant.
Not to mention, she'll openly slam my brother, or my dad, or my grandma. Three people I love and value, one of whom is dead, one of whom is in her last few years, and one with whom I should have a healthy relationship for the rest of my life. She doesn't hold back when she's feeling hateful, and she will criticize anyone and everyone. She especially does not treat me with respect when she is annoyed or angry.
***
I have to learn to let it go, to forgive it and accept it, and see it for what it is: her problem.
***
So in a different arena, I am thinking hard about the possibility of myself as a mother. Being surrounded by wonderful, adorable, bright, creative and affectionate children every day tugs hard at my maternal tendencies and encourages those hormones to amplify the sound of the "biological clock." Not that I feel like I'm getting older, but I feel zestful and young enough to remember my childhood and relate to my future children's experiences (at least somewhat). I feel healthier and more confident, but sometimes I wonder if I'm still under the power of all the emotional and physical and sexual abuse; I never, ever want to become an abuser. I will go to therapy forever to avoid it. I wish therapy were more available in Korea...or at least more accessible and affordable.
Wanting to have my own family is echoing pretty loudly in the back of my head, but being single and living in one of the worst countries for expatriate females to date a local means I'm still far, far away from that dream. It is kind of a dream. To add to that, I would like to heal some more, because I still think I'm a bit broken, and I would just end up breaking my kids.
***
There's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that Toby and I have an amazingly open and honest communication and long-distance pseudo-relationship. There is definitely no commitment involved, no expectations (usually), and we respect each other and marvel daily at how the other has grown and changed for the better. We support each other. We are best friends. We love each other very much.
The bad news is that I have thought of Toby this whole time as the man I'm meant to end up with. I like to entertain the idea of having his kids and his last name. I've wrapped my mind around him for over a decade, and I decided I didn't want to play the field any longer. On his side, however, he is just barely eking his way towards adulthood. He doesn't want kids, he isn't thinking about marriage, and he still wants to explore the field sexually. I can't fault him for that, obviously; it's his path and he's on it and that's just the fact of the matter. Besides that, I already had those experiences because my path took me there at a much earlier age. I'm finished with that. I'm not drawn by the mystery and taboo nature of a threesome, or kissing a girl, or serial one-night-stands. Now, those things are just old news.
So the decision I will have to make eventually is how to move on and attach my heart to another man. I've been dating, of course, and that's fine and it brings moderate satisfaction, briefly. Seoul is a dating desert, and the few men I've met who are interested in me are either really clingy or detached to a fault. I prefer the latter, obviously, because I can wash my hands of them much sooner. Because I've always, deep-down, remained loyal to Toby, at least in the long run, I wasn't really invested in having anything long-term with any boy here. Though it would be nice to have something work out and just be comfortable. My tentative residence here seems to have given me super powers of singledom. Having been with Toby for so long, I appreciate now having the liberty of doing whatever I want, all the time. Being single is hard to get used to, and sometimes I mistake it for being alone.
I am looking forward to the opportunity of dating around in a more mature category of men, preferably with no kids or ex-wives, who swoon over me and have realistic expectations and want to spend time with me. I'm not interested in watching another man grow up while I wait. Moving back to the States, even if it's only briefly, will probably be good for my confidence level.
***
Blah blah blah. I just talk about myself all the time. Blah blah blah.
3.11.2010
bonjour, mes amis
It's me, after another month. I think I'm finding some sense of regularity here, at least. March came roaring in and has yet to ease up on me, and likely many of my counterparts.
Let's see...February wrapped up with a bang, I suppose. I spent most of my free time preparing myself physically, mentally, and with the necessary equipment for my first tae kwon do tournament, plus a belly dance performance on the SAME DAY. So with all my effort and high tension, I thought I had gotten myself ready, until the Friday before the competition. I dragged out to a goodbye dinner for a friend, and ended up joining other people who went to a hiphop club and ended up getting carried away with the good times, and drinking four STRONG drinks. Such a wise decision...
Saturday morning, having barely any sleep, waking still drunk and bordering the impending hangover, I dragged myself through getting ready and didn't get out of my house on time. This upset my whole team, though I didn't hear about it right away. I called my mom to wish her a happy birthday, took a small walk on the mountain behind my house, and tried to eat oatmeal...unsuccessfully. I was two hours behind the team, and I guess it didn't seem like such a big deal to me because I didn't actually consider myself on a "team," I'm usually a solo player and that's how I think of myself. I didn't realize I was distracting my "teammates" from preparing themselves for their own matches. I spent the next seven hours nursing a hangover, beating myself up for sabotaging myself before a match, for letting everybody down, and for being the Asshole of the Day, really. I had no place to complain about how shitty I felt, which was truly horrible, because I couldn't eat or drink anything without having to run to the restroom to violently throw it up, and I was dizzy and had a pounding headache.
I pushed myself, though, and I tried really hard to just pull myself together, stay with it, and be cool. Later, I was accused of not being "sorry enough," and drama ensued where they all conferred about my many failings (at the tournament and elsewhere) and wouldn't let it go without dropping it all on my head.
Lo and behold, I won my match. There was only one fight, and my competition was a young lady from Korea who didn't bother to warm up, practice, or stretch, but she sure watched me do all those things. My headache and nausea was worrying me; I was afraid my setbacks would sacrifice my timing and strategy. My coach was good to me, most notably for not benching me outright, and gave me really great instruction during the match (which I took to heart and followed as closely as possible). Having only two players registered in the heavyweight adult females meant that either way I would have medaled, but as it were I'm pleased that I took home the gold despite the circumstances.
Afterward I went home, lay on my bed for 20 minutes, and then got up, showered, and did my hair and makeup, and finally ate a small amount of food. I took a train for an hour and made it to the venue where our dance troupe was performing in part of a big charity event. It was fun, and I enjoyed myself, and the girls were so enthusiastic and supportive of me for winning (sharply contrasting the disregard from my "teammates" at the tournament). I was too tired to really dance energetically and creatively, so when I had my solos I don't think I did anything profound or particularly inspiring, but I noted that I had no stage fright whatsoever. I suppose I was still in a victory glow. I got a ride part of the way home with two incredible people, and found myself really perked up by the time I got home.
I won't be drinking again any time soon, I think. It just feels like ugly memories and bad decisions and too many calories and day-after headaches.
And winter hasn't left yet. In fact, it snowed again on Monday night, which was both staggeringly beautiful and deeply disappointing. Earlier that day, I had just noticed that tiny yellow flower buds were forming on the tree branches near the front steps to my apartment building. The winter wonderland was just the opposite of what I wanted, no matter how magical it looked. Thankfully, it has melted almost entirely away and those little yellow buds are still on the tree branches. All we need now are some warmer temperatures and some leaves, and I think spring will feel a bit more welcome, and decide to finally stay.
Work is just hard. That's all. I want to be good at my job, but there are all kinds of unpleasant truths about the system and my superiors and even some of my coworkers that repel me and having new classes with new students is really hairy and unfulfilling.
I've felt really lousy, tense, and fatigued for two weeks. I went to the doctor on Monday after having a constant headache every day for six days, and he gave me about a hundred pills for five days, no names and no indications for any of them, just when to take them. The doctor visit and the medication only totalled to about 8 bucks, so I figure I'll honor the advice of the doctors and take the meds. I think they make me really drowsy and dehydrated.
Also, I've been really antisocial lately. It isn't deliberate, but spending time with my friends just doesn't seem appealing in the slightest. I'd rather save myself the trouble and go home and relax by myself. I've apparently missed loads of phone calls and texts, however, and every sensitive feeling my friends have has been hurt by my failure to cater to their little expectations. Maybe it is deliberate. I don't feel like being judged, especially by Katie, David and Dan. They seem to document every single mistake I make in their presence, to misinterpret and assume and critique, only to hold it against me forever. It's not encouraging. On the other hand, spending time with anyone else just feels like too much effort.
Nobody reaches out to me, so I can carry on my ideas that I'm flying solo, as usual. No one thinks about me or wants to do anything with me, which is FINE, because it's not a big deal and we all do what we want to. It's not personal, but to Katie it is. I'm tired of that mentality. Just let me do my own damn thing. I'm not on her case about staying in touch with me every day, and I don't watch her to screw up or get all worked out of shape when she trips some hypersensitive hair trigger boundaries. I just don't think of her like that. But, it's safe to say, I'm wounded, and I feel defensive and bitter and betrayed. I'd just rather be alone, thanks.
Then there's Toby. I love that man, but being 6000 miles way sucks. If I was any closer to him, would it be different than it was before? Probably not. Should I just move on and find someone who's better suited to me? Yeah, I should. Is it possible to do that? I'd like to say yes, but so far I just can't tear myself away.
I figure I'll just be my free-floating self for the rest of my days. We'll see if I can manage it.
Let's see...February wrapped up with a bang, I suppose. I spent most of my free time preparing myself physically, mentally, and with the necessary equipment for my first tae kwon do tournament, plus a belly dance performance on the SAME DAY. So with all my effort and high tension, I thought I had gotten myself ready, until the Friday before the competition. I dragged out to a goodbye dinner for a friend, and ended up joining other people who went to a hiphop club and ended up getting carried away with the good times, and drinking four STRONG drinks. Such a wise decision...
Saturday morning, having barely any sleep, waking still drunk and bordering the impending hangover, I dragged myself through getting ready and didn't get out of my house on time. This upset my whole team, though I didn't hear about it right away. I called my mom to wish her a happy birthday, took a small walk on the mountain behind my house, and tried to eat oatmeal...unsuccessfully. I was two hours behind the team, and I guess it didn't seem like such a big deal to me because I didn't actually consider myself on a "team," I'm usually a solo player and that's how I think of myself. I didn't realize I was distracting my "teammates" from preparing themselves for their own matches. I spent the next seven hours nursing a hangover, beating myself up for sabotaging myself before a match, for letting everybody down, and for being the Asshole of the Day, really. I had no place to complain about how shitty I felt, which was truly horrible, because I couldn't eat or drink anything without having to run to the restroom to violently throw it up, and I was dizzy and had a pounding headache.
I pushed myself, though, and I tried really hard to just pull myself together, stay with it, and be cool. Later, I was accused of not being "sorry enough," and drama ensued where they all conferred about my many failings (at the tournament and elsewhere) and wouldn't let it go without dropping it all on my head.
Lo and behold, I won my match. There was only one fight, and my competition was a young lady from Korea who didn't bother to warm up, practice, or stretch, but she sure watched me do all those things. My headache and nausea was worrying me; I was afraid my setbacks would sacrifice my timing and strategy. My coach was good to me, most notably for not benching me outright, and gave me really great instruction during the match (which I took to heart and followed as closely as possible). Having only two players registered in the heavyweight adult females meant that either way I would have medaled, but as it were I'm pleased that I took home the gold despite the circumstances.
Afterward I went home, lay on my bed for 20 minutes, and then got up, showered, and did my hair and makeup, and finally ate a small amount of food. I took a train for an hour and made it to the venue where our dance troupe was performing in part of a big charity event. It was fun, and I enjoyed myself, and the girls were so enthusiastic and supportive of me for winning (sharply contrasting the disregard from my "teammates" at the tournament). I was too tired to really dance energetically and creatively, so when I had my solos I don't think I did anything profound or particularly inspiring, but I noted that I had no stage fright whatsoever. I suppose I was still in a victory glow. I got a ride part of the way home with two incredible people, and found myself really perked up by the time I got home.
I won't be drinking again any time soon, I think. It just feels like ugly memories and bad decisions and too many calories and day-after headaches.
And winter hasn't left yet. In fact, it snowed again on Monday night, which was both staggeringly beautiful and deeply disappointing. Earlier that day, I had just noticed that tiny yellow flower buds were forming on the tree branches near the front steps to my apartment building. The winter wonderland was just the opposite of what I wanted, no matter how magical it looked. Thankfully, it has melted almost entirely away and those little yellow buds are still on the tree branches. All we need now are some warmer temperatures and some leaves, and I think spring will feel a bit more welcome, and decide to finally stay.
Work is just hard. That's all. I want to be good at my job, but there are all kinds of unpleasant truths about the system and my superiors and even some of my coworkers that repel me and having new classes with new students is really hairy and unfulfilling.
I've felt really lousy, tense, and fatigued for two weeks. I went to the doctor on Monday after having a constant headache every day for six days, and he gave me about a hundred pills for five days, no names and no indications for any of them, just when to take them. The doctor visit and the medication only totalled to about 8 bucks, so I figure I'll honor the advice of the doctors and take the meds. I think they make me really drowsy and dehydrated.
Also, I've been really antisocial lately. It isn't deliberate, but spending time with my friends just doesn't seem appealing in the slightest. I'd rather save myself the trouble and go home and relax by myself. I've apparently missed loads of phone calls and texts, however, and every sensitive feeling my friends have has been hurt by my failure to cater to their little expectations. Maybe it is deliberate. I don't feel like being judged, especially by Katie, David and Dan. They seem to document every single mistake I make in their presence, to misinterpret and assume and critique, only to hold it against me forever. It's not encouraging. On the other hand, spending time with anyone else just feels like too much effort.
Nobody reaches out to me, so I can carry on my ideas that I'm flying solo, as usual. No one thinks about me or wants to do anything with me, which is FINE, because it's not a big deal and we all do what we want to. It's not personal, but to Katie it is. I'm tired of that mentality. Just let me do my own damn thing. I'm not on her case about staying in touch with me every day, and I don't watch her to screw up or get all worked out of shape when she trips some hypersensitive hair trigger boundaries. I just don't think of her like that. But, it's safe to say, I'm wounded, and I feel defensive and bitter and betrayed. I'd just rather be alone, thanks.
Then there's Toby. I love that man, but being 6000 miles way sucks. If I was any closer to him, would it be different than it was before? Probably not. Should I just move on and find someone who's better suited to me? Yeah, I should. Is it possible to do that? I'd like to say yes, but so far I just can't tear myself away.
I figure I'll just be my free-floating self for the rest of my days. We'll see if I can manage it.
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