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Is there a bridge nearby that I can go fling myself off of? I'm so fucking tired of declaring that I am happy, only to witness a split second that devastates everything and rakes me over the hottest, sharpest coals.
And let's add some fatigue to it, too. How about not sleeping an entire night, rehearsing the very words I dread saying and with no respite from my discomfort.
Then, why don't we empower me to stick up for my pathetic self esteem, to set my boundaries and stick to them. Let's fuel my resolve to demand more than mere crumbs, to stop openly taking whatever pittance I can get.
Let's lead me to someone, with whom I could easily and rapidly fall head over heels in love, and then challenge me with his immense baggage, his broken heart, his child from a previous marriage, and his sense of failure. Furthermore, challenge me with his detachment and reluctance to invest himself emotionally. And finally, challenge me with his deliberate kindness, likability, handsomeness, integrity, honesty, passion, affectionate nature, and obvious attraction to me.
And I couldn't make it last more than three goddamned weeks.
I told him I couldn't be a rebound, that I'm worth more than that. He's been asking me specifically what I want, and I couldn't answer until this morning; I want to keep him. I like him too much to do something casual or slow or detached, and I'm far too open and sensitive emotionally to hide any increasing feelings while he maintains that he can't meet any greater expectations. I told him that if I felt like I was on standby, liking him more and more, I would probably debase myself by inadvertently trying to convince him of my worthiness. I told him I wasn't interested in sharing him with other people from the dating website where we met. For those reasons, I suggested that I leave him to do whatever he needs to do to heal for however long, and if he felt like trying again with me, he should see if I'm around.
He was so open to hearing it, he wrapped his arms around me in bed and kissed the top of my head. He said it seemed like an easy way out of getting hurt, and I agreed. He told me how cool and thoughtful I was, how attractive and sexy he finds me. He didn't really answer me, though. He was groggy, having only just woken up, while I'd lain awake the past 6 hours or so, and basically he fell asleep holding me tightly. Then we woke up and made love, but he never brought it up again.
As we both left for work after hurriedly dressing and eating cereal, he hugged and kissed me, saying, "See ya later. Take care of yourself." Maybe he was referring to today, with my insufferable fatigue. Maybe it was a farewell for the future. I won't call him again.
I could love that man forever. I'm so sad but God I hope I did the right thing.
10.18.2012
10.14.2012
calm waters
I'd like to start off by saying that I'm happy. I'm exploring ways to maintain inner peace and seek strength in that peace, as well as keep my motivation for future aspirations and potential.
After burying the dead end that resulted from my brief stint with the doctor, I actually did find my center again. I was feeling cheerful, balanced, and most of all grateful, once again.
Three weeks ago, surprisingly coinciding with my previous post on this blog, I was sent a message by someone whom at first I ignored. I couldn't be bothered with yet another boring beau. After revisiting this man and giving him a chance, I wrote him back and we struck up a correspondence that led to meeting for a drink by the end of that week. It has been two weeks and I see this fireman regularly, and hear from him every day.
The more I see him, the fonder I am of his personality, witticisms, integrity and intelligence. He is a good man. So far he has shown me that he genuinely likes me and has no interest in playing games. He is so tall and handsome. He has tattoos! On top of all that, the man likes loves my cooking! How can I possibly resist him?!
The fireman met my best friends yesterday, and they all loved each other. It was very comfortable and friendly, and I made us all dinner.
At the risk of succumbing to any familiar patterns, I am still attempting to take a step back and simply appreciate the moment for what it is. I am happy. In the central courtyard of my spirit, I am tending to a very beautiful pool of water with a still, placid surface. It is my responsibility to keep it undisturbed by the turmoil of outside occasions. I also take the time to sit by my pool, to take comfort in its stillness. This is my inner peace.
9.23.2012
thoughts wearing thoughts' hats
In my heart, I had found the perfect new house, far surpassing my expectations and well worth the cost. I mulled it over briefly but felt so compelled by it that I couldn't stop myself from making a huge investment right away. I sized up every room, imagined my future life and pictured filling the space with lovely things.
I purchased it, and I was deliriously happy. I had everything arranged, it was all settled, and nothing could stop me.
One day, before I'd gotten a single personal possession in the door, something I didn't anticipate or prepare for happened. My house, my perfect new home and my happy future, was ablaze. It was so far along by the time I realized that it was too late to save anything. All that was left was a pile of ash and rubble.
Devastation. Disaster. My heart was crushed. I had nowhere to go. My future happy life was impossible. Every dream I'd conjured was a waste.
What's done is done. It was not the only house for me, even though I was ready to settle into its nooks and crannies and find my peace within its sanctuary. The universe doesn't make mistakes, and the house is gone. I have the choice to rebuild or go shopping again. First I need to start saving up, and I have been set back tremendously.
Of course, this is how I can cope with heartbreak. I give it another name. I picture it as something else, I put a different hat on it, and I can make sense of it. Because losing the love of someone perfect makes less sense to my heart than watching a tangible happy future burn to the ground.
I'll let this start my healing.
I purchased it, and I was deliriously happy. I had everything arranged, it was all settled, and nothing could stop me.
One day, before I'd gotten a single personal possession in the door, something I didn't anticipate or prepare for happened. My house, my perfect new home and my happy future, was ablaze. It was so far along by the time I realized that it was too late to save anything. All that was left was a pile of ash and rubble.
Devastation. Disaster. My heart was crushed. I had nowhere to go. My future happy life was impossible. Every dream I'd conjured was a waste.
What's done is done. It was not the only house for me, even though I was ready to settle into its nooks and crannies and find my peace within its sanctuary. The universe doesn't make mistakes, and the house is gone. I have the choice to rebuild or go shopping again. First I need to start saving up, and I have been set back tremendously.
Of course, this is how I can cope with heartbreak. I give it another name. I picture it as something else, I put a different hat on it, and I can make sense of it. Because losing the love of someone perfect makes less sense to my heart than watching a tangible happy future burn to the ground.
I'll let this start my healing.
8.22.2012
the Full Plate
As much as I try to understand my belief that we are all energetic beings, I cannot seem to fathom how extensive our impact on the universe around us can be. I want to picture, for example, what message is being inferred by my general reaction to stress and my manic schedule. Have I pulled away, or changed my sunny disposition in the eyes of others? How did my energy change and affect those around me?
I'm sad. I'm so very disappointed, crushed by the grief that I lost something wonderful before it could even become. It was as if my happy future life died right before my eyes, and I didn't expect it. Logic would point out that a doctor's schedule, especially in the first years of residency, is not conducive to a new romance. Optimism would coo that this sort of connection is possible, at the very least, and emotional growth is inevitable. Retrospection would chime in that I've made a great deal of progress in my efforts to get into athletic shape and stick to a healthy eating habit, motivated especially by my competitive side.
But Heartache laments over and over that I am so lonely, that I was so close to being special, so utterly devastated by emotion and loss, and so hopeless for the potential of tomorrow. And Forgiveness wants me to set him free, let him be, and support and love him anyway.
At the same time, I'm trying so desperately to be present at work. To not slump in my seat and neglect my students' needs and queries, and to not isolate myself from my coworkers and friends. I need to focus and plow through massive amounts of prep work, grading, and organization, while coordinating standards and materials and engaging activities. I need to be in a good place, emotionally and spiritually, not bitter and furious at God for giving me something potentially wonderful and joyful and then RIPPING it away. I love my job, and I feel safe and valuable here, if only here.
I'm also trying to work on healing the broken childhood and relationship I had with my mother. Years ago, before I was ready to confront it, my therapist recommended a book to me about surviving a life with a parent exhibiting borderline personality disorder. I didn't feel comfortable even opening the book, though I went out and purchased it, because I was timid about diagnosing my mother with a mental illness. After moving into my new apartment, however, I unpacked my books and came across it again. Since my mom moved me down to Tucson, she hasn't spoken to me, and because she was so hateful during that weekend and I have been so busy, I have not been compelled to call. Predictably, if I don't initiate contact, we don't communicate. Typical (with more than just my mother).
After reading half way through this book, I feel mingled relief, grief, anger, injustice, understanding, acceptance, and despair. But most of all, I believe my mother really does suffer from symptoms of BPD. This book is helping me take the steps to recover my childhood and identify where I did not develop healthy emotional tools, so that I can heal myself.
I'm also trying to settle into a new place. A real place, a permanent one. My own place. First time in years and years. That's more than I can even describe. I just have to wait and see.
I'm sad. I'm so very disappointed, crushed by the grief that I lost something wonderful before it could even become. It was as if my happy future life died right before my eyes, and I didn't expect it. Logic would point out that a doctor's schedule, especially in the first years of residency, is not conducive to a new romance. Optimism would coo that this sort of connection is possible, at the very least, and emotional growth is inevitable. Retrospection would chime in that I've made a great deal of progress in my efforts to get into athletic shape and stick to a healthy eating habit, motivated especially by my competitive side.
But Heartache laments over and over that I am so lonely, that I was so close to being special, so utterly devastated by emotion and loss, and so hopeless for the potential of tomorrow. And Forgiveness wants me to set him free, let him be, and support and love him anyway.
At the same time, I'm trying so desperately to be present at work. To not slump in my seat and neglect my students' needs and queries, and to not isolate myself from my coworkers and friends. I need to focus and plow through massive amounts of prep work, grading, and organization, while coordinating standards and materials and engaging activities. I need to be in a good place, emotionally and spiritually, not bitter and furious at God for giving me something potentially wonderful and joyful and then RIPPING it away. I love my job, and I feel safe and valuable here, if only here.
I'm also trying to work on healing the broken childhood and relationship I had with my mother. Years ago, before I was ready to confront it, my therapist recommended a book to me about surviving a life with a parent exhibiting borderline personality disorder. I didn't feel comfortable even opening the book, though I went out and purchased it, because I was timid about diagnosing my mother with a mental illness. After moving into my new apartment, however, I unpacked my books and came across it again. Since my mom moved me down to Tucson, she hasn't spoken to me, and because she was so hateful during that weekend and I have been so busy, I have not been compelled to call. Predictably, if I don't initiate contact, we don't communicate. Typical (with more than just my mother).
After reading half way through this book, I feel mingled relief, grief, anger, injustice, understanding, acceptance, and despair. But most of all, I believe my mother really does suffer from symptoms of BPD. This book is helping me take the steps to recover my childhood and identify where I did not develop healthy emotional tools, so that I can heal myself.
I'm also trying to settle into a new place. A real place, a permanent one. My own place. First time in years and years. That's more than I can even describe. I just have to wait and see.
8.08.2012
FUCK.
Oh God, the crushing reality that I'm not in any legitimate relationship, not even a budding one. The terrifying realization that I have single-handedly destroyed the potential for something because even my very best efforts were UTTERLY worthless.
I'm doing it all wrong. And in my fear and panic of not being capable of a healthy relationship, I take the slightest sign of distance as the first sign of the inevitable end. God damn you, Toby. You've ruined me.
So, insecurities trump me once again. I'm back where I was, just exactly where I was, overworked and underappreciated and attention-starved. Spending my time quietly panicking in my classroom late after hours or in my new, unfamiliar apartment.
What do I need to be happy? Seriously, what is missing? And how do I get it?
I need a turn-around. A complete overhaul. Because all this failing at life is fucking miserable.
I'm doing it all wrong. And in my fear and panic of not being capable of a healthy relationship, I take the slightest sign of distance as the first sign of the inevitable end. God damn you, Toby. You've ruined me.
So, insecurities trump me once again. I'm back where I was, just exactly where I was, overworked and underappreciated and attention-starved. Spending my time quietly panicking in my classroom late after hours or in my new, unfamiliar apartment.
What do I need to be happy? Seriously, what is missing? And how do I get it?
I need a turn-around. A complete overhaul. Because all this failing at life is fucking miserable.
7.23.2012
the beauty of the beholder
I'm beginning to appreciate the benefits of a slower-paced relationship. Certainly after having some practice, this rhythm feels more doable and tolerable, though I'll admit I'm still mentally gnawing on every detail. Acceptance, insight, and empathy make up a bigger portion of our relationship so far than I have experienced in the past. We're both busy, though the doctor is by far more consumed by his present schedule. I'm anticipating a major expansion of my schedule load, whereas right now I'm merely trying to prepare myself and brace for it.
This summer has been about jumping through hoops in order to secure a provisional teaching certification, prepare my classroom, train to teach AP biology, move into my own place, and in general take a bit more responsibility for my life.
I did not anticipate, but desperately wanted, the addition of a new romance in my life. I'm struggling to not jump ahead, because then I don't seem to appreciate what I have right now. Trying to do the "right" thing feels so very uncertain. One thing I know for sure is that it's important to give the doctor space to develop his own life here. I've made an effort to be supportive and helpful, without offering my services as a tour guide/personal chef/ambassador. I consciously do not mention how much I miss him or want to see him again. I tell him I am grateful for the time he can share with me, while his schedule is unforgiving and he has very little free time to live a life outside of his job. It should smooth out sometime soon, but for now he needs to focus and try to recuperate as much as possible when he's off. I'm not entitled to a moment of that off-time, so it really means a lot to me when he wants to spend it with me. The last thing I want to be is another one of his responsibilities; I want to be a fun, relaxing, exciting, supportive haven for him.
Phase 2 is when my work schedule kicks in, and we have to contend with really funky hours on both ends. I hope things can work out, and I think they will. This slow-pace stuff feels more natural and so I'm wondering how long we will take to transcend to each next level; it's brand-new for both of us!
I'm running a lot this summer, which makes me happy. I never thought I'd get back into running after I broke my ankle so badly, and that was 12 years ago. The prospect of getting back into muay Thai in August is very exciting, especially because I've managed to stay in shape and conditioned myself for longer stamina...very important in boxing! My legs and arms and middle seem to respond more quickly to a few days off/on my exercise regimen, which encourages me to be more disciplined because I want that healthy body!!
New music is easy to dig up, and I've been enjoying the best new stuff I've heard in ages. I'm such a music snob that it's very satisfying to drive around or run around and have my phone play incredibly underground stuff to drive or run or exercise to. It needs a hook and an impeccable beat, some deep fluid bass or a new take on an old rhythm, and I'll love it. If it compels me to move my body, that's perfect. Plus, it's easy to find and I feel awakened!
Finally, after four years of displacement, living with my things stacked in a suitcase, a laundry basket, on top of the permanent fixtures, I am moving IN to my own new place. It's enough room (but not too much), it's located an appropriate distance from my job and just east of the center of town. I have loads of closet space, a bath tub, a small back yard, windows on both ends of the house, a dishwasher, and a fantastic kitchen. I don't need the fancy architecture or amenities that pricier places proffer, so I'm delighted to have the space to work with. I will need to purchase a few things, like a sofa, some new cookware and cutlery, a television, a toaster oven and a shower curtain. I'm looking forward to doing a little nesting!
I think I'm going to run along and fantasize about furniture acquisitions and how I'll decorate my new home with all my OLD STUFF!
This summer has been about jumping through hoops in order to secure a provisional teaching certification, prepare my classroom, train to teach AP biology, move into my own place, and in general take a bit more responsibility for my life.
I did not anticipate, but desperately wanted, the addition of a new romance in my life. I'm struggling to not jump ahead, because then I don't seem to appreciate what I have right now. Trying to do the "right" thing feels so very uncertain. One thing I know for sure is that it's important to give the doctor space to develop his own life here. I've made an effort to be supportive and helpful, without offering my services as a tour guide/personal chef/ambassador. I consciously do not mention how much I miss him or want to see him again. I tell him I am grateful for the time he can share with me, while his schedule is unforgiving and he has very little free time to live a life outside of his job. It should smooth out sometime soon, but for now he needs to focus and try to recuperate as much as possible when he's off. I'm not entitled to a moment of that off-time, so it really means a lot to me when he wants to spend it with me. The last thing I want to be is another one of his responsibilities; I want to be a fun, relaxing, exciting, supportive haven for him.
Phase 2 is when my work schedule kicks in, and we have to contend with really funky hours on both ends. I hope things can work out, and I think they will. This slow-pace stuff feels more natural and so I'm wondering how long we will take to transcend to each next level; it's brand-new for both of us!
I'm running a lot this summer, which makes me happy. I never thought I'd get back into running after I broke my ankle so badly, and that was 12 years ago. The prospect of getting back into muay Thai in August is very exciting, especially because I've managed to stay in shape and conditioned myself for longer stamina...very important in boxing! My legs and arms and middle seem to respond more quickly to a few days off/on my exercise regimen, which encourages me to be more disciplined because I want that healthy body!!
New music is easy to dig up, and I've been enjoying the best new stuff I've heard in ages. I'm such a music snob that it's very satisfying to drive around or run around and have my phone play incredibly underground stuff to drive or run or exercise to. It needs a hook and an impeccable beat, some deep fluid bass or a new take on an old rhythm, and I'll love it. If it compels me to move my body, that's perfect. Plus, it's easy to find and I feel awakened!
Finally, after four years of displacement, living with my things stacked in a suitcase, a laundry basket, on top of the permanent fixtures, I am moving IN to my own new place. It's enough room (but not too much), it's located an appropriate distance from my job and just east of the center of town. I have loads of closet space, a bath tub, a small back yard, windows on both ends of the house, a dishwasher, and a fantastic kitchen. I don't need the fancy architecture or amenities that pricier places proffer, so I'm delighted to have the space to work with. I will need to purchase a few things, like a sofa, some new cookware and cutlery, a television, a toaster oven and a shower curtain. I'm looking forward to doing a little nesting!
I think I'm going to run along and fantasize about furniture acquisitions and how I'll decorate my new home with all my OLD STUFF!
7.09.2012
gratitude or attitude
This whole-body, visceral sensation of excitement and exhilaration is wonderful. I know I can't feel like this every day, but I am relishing every moment of being on edge and infatuated.
It took five dates. FIVE. I'd like to think of that as some sort of personal record. But when he finally kissed me, the fucking planets aligned.
He led into it with clues that it would probably happen soon, since Saturday night he met my friends and me for karaoke and afterwards as I hugged him goodbye he nibbled my ear and then kissed my throat...what a tease. So the next day, when he came over to spend the afternoon swimming with me, it was explosive.
I enjoy holding back, though. I never pictured myself appreciating stretching things out, but as we gradually layer increased amounts of intimacy I have all this time to indulge in what we've shared and can fantasize one degree higher. Yesterday gave me so much to indulge in, it probably set me up for a week at least.
It feels great to have such an intense crush on someone again! Though I've been told it is unwise to get into all that heavy emotional stuff early on, we delved in to seriously painful histories of loss and grief so early and to such depth and detail via email and long-distance calls, it's almost like we've cleared the air on what our mutual baggage entails. I feel accepted by him, like he sees me as a survivor of my plights. He teases me with a sense of understanding for who I am, and so he has full clearance to poke fun at me.
I'm going to spend this week basking in the recollection of the doctor's embrace, of his touch. Also, listening to happy music.
Damn my heart feels good.
It took five dates. FIVE. I'd like to think of that as some sort of personal record. But when he finally kissed me, the fucking planets aligned.
He led into it with clues that it would probably happen soon, since Saturday night he met my friends and me for karaoke and afterwards as I hugged him goodbye he nibbled my ear and then kissed my throat...what a tease. So the next day, when he came over to spend the afternoon swimming with me, it was explosive.
I enjoy holding back, though. I never pictured myself appreciating stretching things out, but as we gradually layer increased amounts of intimacy I have all this time to indulge in what we've shared and can fantasize one degree higher. Yesterday gave me so much to indulge in, it probably set me up for a week at least.
It feels great to have such an intense crush on someone again! Though I've been told it is unwise to get into all that heavy emotional stuff early on, we delved in to seriously painful histories of loss and grief so early and to such depth and detail via email and long-distance calls, it's almost like we've cleared the air on what our mutual baggage entails. I feel accepted by him, like he sees me as a survivor of my plights. He teases me with a sense of understanding for who I am, and so he has full clearance to poke fun at me.
I'm going to spend this week basking in the recollection of the doctor's embrace, of his touch. Also, listening to happy music.
Damn my heart feels good.
7.01.2012
Be gracious if it kills you...
One of my very dearest friends in the whole wide world has spent the last week with me. We have traveled all around Arizona, meeting friends and family and eating amazing food, experiencing awe-inspiring land forms and cloud formations, and spending lots of time having heart-to-hearts. She is such a wonderful companion. Tomorrow, to my dismay, she is on to the next leg of her journey to visit yet another of my dearest friends in the wide world, so I am also a little jealous that they will hang out without me!
My friend is also extremely gracious and understanding that my heart is obsessed and that I am attempting to be as sane as possible while having my heart do flips. She is happy for me, because I am so enthusiastic about feeling the earliest symptoms of being head over heels.
The doctor and I have spoken every single day for over two weeks. I look forward to seeing him this Monday and he made it clear that he is looking forward to getting together. The effortlessness of our courtship is making my head spin; what could it mean?! Does this have the potential to be everything I could imagine? The most wonderful thing about all of this is that it feels mutual. Every time I kick the proverbial ball into his court, my heart sinks into my stomach because I'm totally vulnerable. Then, without having much time pass, he kicks the ball right back to me.
I've so long told myself that if something were really a good thing, I probably didn't deserve it. Like accepting kindness and generosity from people when I really needed help...it felt like charity because I couldn't actually believe that they did it because they loved me. I believed, for as long as I can possibly remember, that I was not actually loved or lovable. I did not trust anyone to be kind to my face and behind my back, and I certainly entertained the idea that I was actually alone in the world.
Toby unfortunately contributed to this baggage because he could not promise to spend any time with me, only sporadic moments when he could not find something better to do with his time. I was no priority for him and he made it very plain to me. He refused to "promise" something he couldn't deliver, like actually behaving as though he was looking forward to seeing me or setting aside time in his schedule for me. And we dated for the better half of six years. I was not worth his time, that's how I interpreted that.
When the most recent dating experience came and went this past spring, I finally experienced being worth someone's time. We both had hectic, busy schedules, but when I told him my free evenings, he made sure he kept that time open for me. It was refreshing to be important enough to get a time slot. Other things about this man became apparent and unappealing, relating mostly to his ignorance and deep-seated bias, but on the whole he treated me relatively well.
Now, the doctor asks me when he gets to see me again! We've spent a week corresponding from separate cities, sharing sunsets and having all-day-long conversations, and he is genuinely interested in me. Maybe my interest trumps his, but I'm trying hard to keep a lid on it so I don't do something hasty like announce our wedding date. Of all people, I know his schedule is going to be difficult on him and most likely on me, since I will want to spend every waking moment in his presence, but he seems willing to share his free time after work with me and I will fall over myself to take him up on it. Assuredly, once work wiggles its tendrils back into my life, we will have quite a bigger knot to loosen, but in the meantime, we can apply our respective schedules one layer at a time.
It's uncanny how well this is working out. I shouldn't be so focused on it, but it is so exciting that I can't seem to sleep.
My online classes for the certification program are apparently going well though I wouldn't call it smoothly. I realized in horror that I missed the deadlines for three consecutive assignments because I am simply inexperienced and ignorant to the online class format, so I assumed all hope was lost and I failed the class. At least, I thought, I can probably re-use these assignments for the next time I take the course. The syllabus clearly states no late work will be accepted. In a mess of tears and shame, I wrote to my instructor to apologize for being completely inept and to explain why I had not submitted any assignments for weeks. This same instructor is facilitating my second, more in-depth class, and I have received glowing feedback and full credit for each of my punctual assignments therein. Surely this counted in my favor, and my instructor responded to my email insisting that I not retake the class but instead accept an Incomplete grade until I can submit my assignments, because her goal as an instructor is to make me a better teacher. I am beyond humbled by her grace and understanding, which I feel I do not deserve, this being entirely my mistake and oversight. I have shed so much guilt-fueled tears today that my eyes were primed and ready to spurt out a fair amount of gratitude and humility tears. I'm a weeper, it's true. My heart is filled with water and it seeps out of my face.
Once I have delivered my darling friend to the airport, I will most certainly be plowing through my remaining three large assignments plus any and every ungraded reflection or discussion I can submit. I have enjoyed and appreciated the insight afforded to me through these courses and I am confident they have already vastly improved the approach I will take in my next year of teaching. I have learned so much already this summer.
I have been reminded that I am so blessed. I have learned to have hope.
My friend is also extremely gracious and understanding that my heart is obsessed and that I am attempting to be as sane as possible while having my heart do flips. She is happy for me, because I am so enthusiastic about feeling the earliest symptoms of being head over heels.
The doctor and I have spoken every single day for over two weeks. I look forward to seeing him this Monday and he made it clear that he is looking forward to getting together. The effortlessness of our courtship is making my head spin; what could it mean?! Does this have the potential to be everything I could imagine? The most wonderful thing about all of this is that it feels mutual. Every time I kick the proverbial ball into his court, my heart sinks into my stomach because I'm totally vulnerable. Then, without having much time pass, he kicks the ball right back to me.
I've so long told myself that if something were really a good thing, I probably didn't deserve it. Like accepting kindness and generosity from people when I really needed help...it felt like charity because I couldn't actually believe that they did it because they loved me. I believed, for as long as I can possibly remember, that I was not actually loved or lovable. I did not trust anyone to be kind to my face and behind my back, and I certainly entertained the idea that I was actually alone in the world.
Toby unfortunately contributed to this baggage because he could not promise to spend any time with me, only sporadic moments when he could not find something better to do with his time. I was no priority for him and he made it very plain to me. He refused to "promise" something he couldn't deliver, like actually behaving as though he was looking forward to seeing me or setting aside time in his schedule for me. And we dated for the better half of six years. I was not worth his time, that's how I interpreted that.
When the most recent dating experience came and went this past spring, I finally experienced being worth someone's time. We both had hectic, busy schedules, but when I told him my free evenings, he made sure he kept that time open for me. It was refreshing to be important enough to get a time slot. Other things about this man became apparent and unappealing, relating mostly to his ignorance and deep-seated bias, but on the whole he treated me relatively well.
Now, the doctor asks me when he gets to see me again! We've spent a week corresponding from separate cities, sharing sunsets and having all-day-long conversations, and he is genuinely interested in me. Maybe my interest trumps his, but I'm trying hard to keep a lid on it so I don't do something hasty like announce our wedding date. Of all people, I know his schedule is going to be difficult on him and most likely on me, since I will want to spend every waking moment in his presence, but he seems willing to share his free time after work with me and I will fall over myself to take him up on it. Assuredly, once work wiggles its tendrils back into my life, we will have quite a bigger knot to loosen, but in the meantime, we can apply our respective schedules one layer at a time.
It's uncanny how well this is working out. I shouldn't be so focused on it, but it is so exciting that I can't seem to sleep.
My online classes for the certification program are apparently going well though I wouldn't call it smoothly. I realized in horror that I missed the deadlines for three consecutive assignments because I am simply inexperienced and ignorant to the online class format, so I assumed all hope was lost and I failed the class. At least, I thought, I can probably re-use these assignments for the next time I take the course. The syllabus clearly states no late work will be accepted. In a mess of tears and shame, I wrote to my instructor to apologize for being completely inept and to explain why I had not submitted any assignments for weeks. This same instructor is facilitating my second, more in-depth class, and I have received glowing feedback and full credit for each of my punctual assignments therein. Surely this counted in my favor, and my instructor responded to my email insisting that I not retake the class but instead accept an Incomplete grade until I can submit my assignments, because her goal as an instructor is to make me a better teacher. I am beyond humbled by her grace and understanding, which I feel I do not deserve, this being entirely my mistake and oversight. I have shed so much guilt-fueled tears today that my eyes were primed and ready to spurt out a fair amount of gratitude and humility tears. I'm a weeper, it's true. My heart is filled with water and it seeps out of my face.
Once I have delivered my darling friend to the airport, I will most certainly be plowing through my remaining three large assignments plus any and every ungraded reflection or discussion I can submit. I have enjoyed and appreciated the insight afforded to me through these courses and I am confident they have already vastly improved the approach I will take in my next year of teaching. I have learned so much already this summer.
I have been reminded that I am so blessed. I have learned to have hope.
6.21.2012
Patience is a virtue?!
My heart wants to explode. I can't seem to distract myself with enough tasks and I am fighting my predisposition for fixation and infatuation.
The rationale is all there. I need to be at peace with what situation I am in at this very moment. It still feels unsettled, as though I'm waiting for it to gel. It's refreshing to have my mind bent around something exciting and wonderful like the idea of love, rather than heartache or grief or disappointment or anger or any other kind of drama. I am physically restraining myself from leaping down the street. I need to calm myself. I need to breathe, to take every moment as a blessing, not let my heart swell up so much that the pressure wants to explode out of my chest.
I am praying so very hard for guidance in taking these steps carefully and appropriately. Above anything, I want to do this whole thing the right way, so that I'm not kicking myself to bits for messing it up somehow later on.
What I really want to do is drink a gallon of coffee and hike a mountain. I think that would help me collect myself, honestly. I could use some fresh air and exercise. AND peace of mind.
The rationale is all there. I need to be at peace with what situation I am in at this very moment. It still feels unsettled, as though I'm waiting for it to gel. It's refreshing to have my mind bent around something exciting and wonderful like the idea of love, rather than heartache or grief or disappointment or anger or any other kind of drama. I am physically restraining myself from leaping down the street. I need to calm myself. I need to breathe, to take every moment as a blessing, not let my heart swell up so much that the pressure wants to explode out of my chest.
I am praying so very hard for guidance in taking these steps carefully and appropriately. Above anything, I want to do this whole thing the right way, so that I'm not kicking myself to bits for messing it up somehow later on.
What I really want to do is drink a gallon of coffee and hike a mountain. I think that would help me collect myself, honestly. I could use some fresh air and exercise. AND peace of mind.
6.20.2012
Rolling dice
We all know how fickle I can be ('we' meaning my theoretical regular reader and myself). It could have gone any direction. It could have been terrible from the first moment, or gotten slightly uncomfortable a few hours in, or any number of minor disasters I conjure up in my head.
But it wasn't. It was perfect. Easy. Relaxed, exciting, fun, disarming, all at once.
The chemistry was undeniable, instantaneous, and prevalent. Conversation was effortless. We've already shared so much that now it's just there, in our combined repertoire, to build from.
However, I appreciate his maturity, and I am extremely flattered by his self-restraint. We both agree that we are impulsive, we have short attention spans, and we are essentially players. For us to make anything work together, we have to avoid those old pitfalls. We have to take our time.
My biggest challenge is to simply slow down. I want to get to point Z without traversing the whole experience. For so long I have abhorred the idea of rehashing all my personal details with someone new. With him, it's impossible to be afraid of telling him anything. It all wants to rush out, so I have to really temper myself.
Our first day together was nine hours long. We shared a lot of together time. Buying personal items at the store. Watching the sun set. Deep secrets over beers. Long embraces.
But that's as far as it went. Even though I generally seek validation physically, he stopped it before we got more intimate. It's so new to me that it shakes me to the core, but I have such profound respect for this man who wants to gradually become more intimate.
It was such a powerful thing for him to do that I didn't know how to tear myself away. As I was driving home, I was so grateful and emotional and surprised that I couldn't hold it together, and I cried myself home.
Wow. It could have gone in any direction, and it went THIS WAY.
I'm in awe.
But it wasn't. It was perfect. Easy. Relaxed, exciting, fun, disarming, all at once.
The chemistry was undeniable, instantaneous, and prevalent. Conversation was effortless. We've already shared so much that now it's just there, in our combined repertoire, to build from.
However, I appreciate his maturity, and I am extremely flattered by his self-restraint. We both agree that we are impulsive, we have short attention spans, and we are essentially players. For us to make anything work together, we have to avoid those old pitfalls. We have to take our time.
My biggest challenge is to simply slow down. I want to get to point Z without traversing the whole experience. For so long I have abhorred the idea of rehashing all my personal details with someone new. With him, it's impossible to be afraid of telling him anything. It all wants to rush out, so I have to really temper myself.
Our first day together was nine hours long. We shared a lot of together time. Buying personal items at the store. Watching the sun set. Deep secrets over beers. Long embraces.
But that's as far as it went. Even though I generally seek validation physically, he stopped it before we got more intimate. It's so new to me that it shakes me to the core, but I have such profound respect for this man who wants to gradually become more intimate.
It was such a powerful thing for him to do that I didn't know how to tear myself away. As I was driving home, I was so grateful and emotional and surprised that I couldn't hold it together, and I cried myself home.
Wow. It could have gone in any direction, and it went THIS WAY.
I'm in awe.
6.18.2012
Not pretending
All we ever have is the present, right? Well, at present, I'm obsessed. Maybe it's just fixation, but my mind is locked on one thing and has been hammering away at it for days. I'll chock it up to being almost entirely isolated in someone else's house for two weeks, with few responsibilities and stressors, but this is undeniable.
Let me explain how it started:
I won't get into an entire back story, because I'm not writing a novel and this is my blog with a hundred previous entries that certainly touched on my failing romance with the previous "love of my life," but suffice it to say I've been coping with the official death of that relationship for the past 9 months. Coping has involved a rebound relationship that satisfactorily distracted me but ultimately fell short of my expectations and minimum criteria. It has also involved a fair amount of Me Time, where I've managed to rekindle (or probably just kindle) a love affair with myself...that kind of love that is forgiving and unconditional and understanding. I've never loved myself like that before.
Well, since I had settled on being in a healthy relationship with myself for the first time, and I'm awfully monogamous, I was neither looking for nor interested in entertaining anything with anyone else. Plus, as the end of the school year came to a fever pitch, there was no time or space in my brain for thoughts about a boy. I wasn't looking, to be short.
Isn't this when everyone says, that's when love finds you, when you least expect it?
Okay, so let me clarify: I'm not in love. Love hasn't officially found me.
I tend to revisit (reactivate) my account on an online dating site that I've had for a couple years, since I came home from Korea. I've met with a number of different guys, a few nice ones, lots of shitty ones, but nobody I was particularly interested in. I most enjoyed the option to answer questions about myself, which in itself was this great opportunity to learn about myself and what I wanted (and where my boundaries are). I let Toby take me for granted for so very long, where the only effort ever put into the friendship or relationship we had was MY effort, and all the essential things I want from a relationship I agreed not to demand from him because he couldn't "make any promises." This time, damn it, I'm going to establish those imperatives ahead of time, and I won't back down from what I want.
I guess as the school year was winding down, I was craving attention and companionship again, so I reactivated my account in late May. Something wonderful happened...I found *exactly* what I'm looking for. I think.
To be brief and vague about it, I'll just say that this man is incredibly intelligent, handsome, athletic, hilariously witty, tall enough, educated, and hard working. He just moved to Tucson after getting his post-grad degree. He and I have been corresponding for three weeks; long, in-depth emails and text message conversations that have been remarkably open, honest, and easy. He knows what I went through with my dad because he went through something profoundly similar. He loves dancing, singing, and martial arts. He is incredibly talented in conversation! He has gone OUT OF HIS WAY to show me and tell me that he's interested and attracted! I'm sold. Hook. Line. Sinker.
I haven't met him in person yet, so I'm fostering insecurities about my physique and how I'm not at my ideal svelte leanness this summer, and I've been scrutinizing all my own tiny flaws for days because I have little else to do.
Here's the thing though...I want nothing more than to present myself in the most honest way possible to him, no guards, no games, no pretending. Here is this man who understands what I tell him without me having to beat the details out (and I refer specifically to my childhood rife with abusive adults), and not only does he not judge me, he can reword it back to me in such an understanding way that it relaxes my muscles in my back and shoulders. I don't have to be afraid of what he knows about me.
I'm not in love, but I want nothing more right now than to connect my soul to his soul. I'm totally fixated on this feeling. It's probably me being overly visceral and I know I run the risk of pouring my heart out too quickly and running him off. I can't forget that he JUST moved here and started his life in Tucson TODAY, so I am forcing myself to back the hell off and give him some space.
I just want him so badly. I want this so badly. I can't wait until we meet :)
Let me explain how it started:
I won't get into an entire back story, because I'm not writing a novel and this is my blog with a hundred previous entries that certainly touched on my failing romance with the previous "love of my life," but suffice it to say I've been coping with the official death of that relationship for the past 9 months. Coping has involved a rebound relationship that satisfactorily distracted me but ultimately fell short of my expectations and minimum criteria. It has also involved a fair amount of Me Time, where I've managed to rekindle (or probably just kindle) a love affair with myself...that kind of love that is forgiving and unconditional and understanding. I've never loved myself like that before.
Well, since I had settled on being in a healthy relationship with myself for the first time, and I'm awfully monogamous, I was neither looking for nor interested in entertaining anything with anyone else. Plus, as the end of the school year came to a fever pitch, there was no time or space in my brain for thoughts about a boy. I wasn't looking, to be short.
Isn't this when everyone says, that's when love finds you, when you least expect it?
Okay, so let me clarify: I'm not in love. Love hasn't officially found me.
I tend to revisit (reactivate) my account on an online dating site that I've had for a couple years, since I came home from Korea. I've met with a number of different guys, a few nice ones, lots of shitty ones, but nobody I was particularly interested in. I most enjoyed the option to answer questions about myself, which in itself was this great opportunity to learn about myself and what I wanted (and where my boundaries are). I let Toby take me for granted for so very long, where the only effort ever put into the friendship or relationship we had was MY effort, and all the essential things I want from a relationship I agreed not to demand from him because he couldn't "make any promises." This time, damn it, I'm going to establish those imperatives ahead of time, and I won't back down from what I want.
I guess as the school year was winding down, I was craving attention and companionship again, so I reactivated my account in late May. Something wonderful happened...I found *exactly* what I'm looking for. I think.
To be brief and vague about it, I'll just say that this man is incredibly intelligent, handsome, athletic, hilariously witty, tall enough, educated, and hard working. He just moved to Tucson after getting his post-grad degree. He and I have been corresponding for three weeks; long, in-depth emails and text message conversations that have been remarkably open, honest, and easy. He knows what I went through with my dad because he went through something profoundly similar. He loves dancing, singing, and martial arts. He is incredibly talented in conversation! He has gone OUT OF HIS WAY to show me and tell me that he's interested and attracted! I'm sold. Hook. Line. Sinker.
I haven't met him in person yet, so I'm fostering insecurities about my physique and how I'm not at my ideal svelte leanness this summer, and I've been scrutinizing all my own tiny flaws for days because I have little else to do.
Here's the thing though...I want nothing more than to present myself in the most honest way possible to him, no guards, no games, no pretending. Here is this man who understands what I tell him without me having to beat the details out (and I refer specifically to my childhood rife with abusive adults), and not only does he not judge me, he can reword it back to me in such an understanding way that it relaxes my muscles in my back and shoulders. I don't have to be afraid of what he knows about me.
I'm not in love, but I want nothing more right now than to connect my soul to his soul. I'm totally fixated on this feeling. It's probably me being overly visceral and I know I run the risk of pouring my heart out too quickly and running him off. I can't forget that he JUST moved here and started his life in Tucson TODAY, so I am forcing myself to back the hell off and give him some space.
I just want him so badly. I want this so badly. I can't wait until we meet :)
5.05.2012
not exactly sure
Tonight, for some inexplicable reason, I feel incredibly lonely.
The Moon is a remarkable one; 30% bigger and 15% brighter, and some 22,000 miles closer to Earth. It's being referred to as a "super moon," but this phenomenon is simply the perigee of the Moon's orbit. No photograph of it does any justice. I've had to simply look up and ponder.
I love solitude and privacy, but retreating to my distant castle before midnight makes me feel like I'm beating the clock lest I turn into a pumpkin.
http://youtu.be/STK9a0eB390
What is next for me?
The Moon is a remarkable one; 30% bigger and 15% brighter, and some 22,000 miles closer to Earth. It's being referred to as a "super moon," but this phenomenon is simply the perigee of the Moon's orbit. No photograph of it does any justice. I've had to simply look up and ponder.
I love solitude and privacy, but retreating to my distant castle before midnight makes me feel like I'm beating the clock lest I turn into a pumpkin.
http://youtu.be/STK9a0eB390
What is next for me?
5.03.2012
FINISH HER!
Even in this fresh new relationship with myself, I am recognizing red flags. Namely, that I can be very verbally abusive with myself.
Take, for example, this evening when I sat and watched two videos of performances I participated in with my troupe, approximately 6 months apart. My attention was, of course, focused on the gamut of insecurities I have regarding my weight, my timing, performance character, and grasp of the techniques and language. The earlier of the two won me some praise for looking svelte and having nice fluidity, but I pointed out the flaws in my cues and timing. The second of the two, a performance this past January, drew scorn and disappointment. I'd gained weight, I slaughtered at least 4 moves, my timing was off, and I recall feeling so proud of myself at the time. Foolish, I told myself.
See what I can do? I can let this take me down so far, just viewing two videos of myself doing something fun and creative, and I can convince myself that I am worthless and undesirable, that I have nothing going for myself. It's that proverbial round of Self vs. Evil Self, equally matched in power and agility, and I honestly thought I was winning. How does one overpower one's dark side?
It's been years since I've had professional therapy, and even though I'm provided several sessions for free through our insurance provider, I simply can't seem to make time for it. Come three weeks from tomorrow, I'm out of a job, and should be collecting unemployment if the stars are aligned in my favor.
Because I come to this blog when I'm trying to sort things out, I'll throw in some good news for posterity. Yesterday I observed one of the chemistry teacher's classes to satisfy a requirement by the district office, and the lesson just happened to be on colligative properties (the elevation of boiling point, depression of freezing point, lowering of vaporization, and osmotic properties upon the addition of any solute to a pure solvent). Now, considering it has been years since I took a chemistry course, I still happen to have minored in it, and felt as though I grasped those concepts very well, even if I can barely explain them or recall the terminology today. It has also been (not as many) years since my internship roaming the Southwest for hummingbird habitats, and I recall one of our many scientific debates was on that very topic: if salt is added to pure water (i.e. when cooking pasta), it changes the boiling point. My vote was that the boiling temperature is increased, and he insisted that it was decreased. Well, with great satisfaction, I am happy to say that I was right, and it was confirmed yesterday. I needed that. It validated me, if only a little, as a scientist.
Additionally, I suggested to a student of mine that if he needed a tutor during the summer, I would offer my services. That was only yesterday, and today he asked if I could tutor him during July for a tidy sum. This is perfect because I'll be broke and house sitting in Tucson this July, and that will keep me a bit more above water. Thank God.
I'm so anxious about the end of the year. There's nothing I can do but persevere and try to accomplish everything, but I'm always shooting for perfection and that's just so unrealistic. Why does it seem like everyone else has it figured out, and I can barely make ends meet or keep a job for more than a year?! Didn't I bust ass in college? I still have a small hill of debt to contend with, secretly, and the thought of entering the world of school costs all over again makes my stomach lurch. Just to be a damn teacher. That whole question of whether the time, money, effort, and constant opposition is all worth it? Dubious.
Let's not forget, while I'm busy playing my little violin, that I have been living in a virtual palace, fully-stocked, since late March. I'm here through the end of the school year, with no utilities or rent to pay, in a beautiful part of town with a plethora of desert flora and fauna, especially birds. The quail are regulars in the back lawn, but I see everything from verdins to cardinals to flycatchers. Then we have little furry rodents, notably cottontails. The burrowing ground squirrels and mice have turned up, but usually after they have befallen some terrible fate, such as a car or the cat. It's always tragic, and I try to gently move their remains somewhere they'd be comfortable. Not that I'm missing the point or anything. I also hear owls at night, and from this vantage point at the darker edge of the city, I have been fortunate enough to spot Venus on a regular basis, Jupiter for at least a month, and even Mars for a week or so. Once or twice, I saw all three! That is an incredible experience, valuable and profound.
Saturday is the junior and senior prom(enade), to which I have been invited and to which I am certainly going! I have a dress and shoes already decided on! I love a good reason to dress up.
Let's throw some more good news in here: I have officially joined the school of people obsessed with their smartphone applications. I only use a few, but I use them most frequently. The best, by far, is the little calorie diary that counts up my water, cardio exercise, and food intake. It sorts it into protein, fat, and carbs, and compares that to the proportions I should strive to meet. I can record my weight and view graphs of my progress (weight loss and staying within budgeted calories) weekly or monthly. I'm pleased to say I've lost 5 lbs! I had been feeling extremely disconnected with my food intake and out of control of my weight. It's wonderful to be so present in my daily diet and to push for some little goal like I would a video game. And the best part is, it translates to my real life and livelihood. Sure, I spend much more time looking at my phone, but I'm building muscle memory with portion control and ingredient choices that I never considered before. I need these habits in place and I'm sure grateful my phone is helping me lose weight!
Okay, I think I've cheered myself up well enough.
Take that, Evil Self!
Until next time...
Take, for example, this evening when I sat and watched two videos of performances I participated in with my troupe, approximately 6 months apart. My attention was, of course, focused on the gamut of insecurities I have regarding my weight, my timing, performance character, and grasp of the techniques and language. The earlier of the two won me some praise for looking svelte and having nice fluidity, but I pointed out the flaws in my cues and timing. The second of the two, a performance this past January, drew scorn and disappointment. I'd gained weight, I slaughtered at least 4 moves, my timing was off, and I recall feeling so proud of myself at the time. Foolish, I told myself.
See what I can do? I can let this take me down so far, just viewing two videos of myself doing something fun and creative, and I can convince myself that I am worthless and undesirable, that I have nothing going for myself. It's that proverbial round of Self vs. Evil Self, equally matched in power and agility, and I honestly thought I was winning. How does one overpower one's dark side?
It's been years since I've had professional therapy, and even though I'm provided several sessions for free through our insurance provider, I simply can't seem to make time for it. Come three weeks from tomorrow, I'm out of a job, and should be collecting unemployment if the stars are aligned in my favor.
Because I come to this blog when I'm trying to sort things out, I'll throw in some good news for posterity. Yesterday I observed one of the chemistry teacher's classes to satisfy a requirement by the district office, and the lesson just happened to be on colligative properties (the elevation of boiling point, depression of freezing point, lowering of vaporization, and osmotic properties upon the addition of any solute to a pure solvent). Now, considering it has been years since I took a chemistry course, I still happen to have minored in it, and felt as though I grasped those concepts very well, even if I can barely explain them or recall the terminology today. It has also been (not as many) years since my internship roaming the Southwest for hummingbird habitats, and I recall one of our many scientific debates was on that very topic: if salt is added to pure water (i.e. when cooking pasta), it changes the boiling point. My vote was that the boiling temperature is increased, and he insisted that it was decreased. Well, with great satisfaction, I am happy to say that I was right, and it was confirmed yesterday. I needed that. It validated me, if only a little, as a scientist.
Additionally, I suggested to a student of mine that if he needed a tutor during the summer, I would offer my services. That was only yesterday, and today he asked if I could tutor him during July for a tidy sum. This is perfect because I'll be broke and house sitting in Tucson this July, and that will keep me a bit more above water. Thank God.
I'm so anxious about the end of the year. There's nothing I can do but persevere and try to accomplish everything, but I'm always shooting for perfection and that's just so unrealistic. Why does it seem like everyone else has it figured out, and I can barely make ends meet or keep a job for more than a year?! Didn't I bust ass in college? I still have a small hill of debt to contend with, secretly, and the thought of entering the world of school costs all over again makes my stomach lurch. Just to be a damn teacher. That whole question of whether the time, money, effort, and constant opposition is all worth it? Dubious.
Let's not forget, while I'm busy playing my little violin, that I have been living in a virtual palace, fully-stocked, since late March. I'm here through the end of the school year, with no utilities or rent to pay, in a beautiful part of town with a plethora of desert flora and fauna, especially birds. The quail are regulars in the back lawn, but I see everything from verdins to cardinals to flycatchers. Then we have little furry rodents, notably cottontails. The burrowing ground squirrels and mice have turned up, but usually after they have befallen some terrible fate, such as a car or the cat. It's always tragic, and I try to gently move their remains somewhere they'd be comfortable. Not that I'm missing the point or anything. I also hear owls at night, and from this vantage point at the darker edge of the city, I have been fortunate enough to spot Venus on a regular basis, Jupiter for at least a month, and even Mars for a week or so. Once or twice, I saw all three! That is an incredible experience, valuable and profound.
Saturday is the junior and senior prom(enade), to which I have been invited and to which I am certainly going! I have a dress and shoes already decided on! I love a good reason to dress up.
Let's throw some more good news in here: I have officially joined the school of people obsessed with their smartphone applications. I only use a few, but I use them most frequently. The best, by far, is the little calorie diary that counts up my water, cardio exercise, and food intake. It sorts it into protein, fat, and carbs, and compares that to the proportions I should strive to meet. I can record my weight and view graphs of my progress (weight loss and staying within budgeted calories) weekly or monthly. I'm pleased to say I've lost 5 lbs! I had been feeling extremely disconnected with my food intake and out of control of my weight. It's wonderful to be so present in my daily diet and to push for some little goal like I would a video game. And the best part is, it translates to my real life and livelihood. Sure, I spend much more time looking at my phone, but I'm building muscle memory with portion control and ingredient choices that I never considered before. I need these habits in place and I'm sure grateful my phone is helping me lose weight!
Okay, I think I've cheered myself up well enough.
Take that, Evil Self!
Until next time...
4.23.2012
Less steering wheel gripping...
I don't always have deeply profound self reflections, and some of my growth is more emotional and visceral than cognizant. Lately, I have had to shed a layer of responsibilities to commitments I piled upon myself over the past two years, and practiced being able to breathe deeply while commuting. These don't sound like much, but it has enabled me to experience a small degree of peace for the first time in many months.
Currently, I'm indulging in a positive relationship with myself. I haven't been my kindest critic, and consequently I stagger beneath the crippling weight of my own guilt complex. Everyone I inform this of insists that it's unhealthy and I have to learn to forgive myself. Friends have also reminded me that if I am unable to forgive myself, it's unlikely that I will be able to forgive others. Admittedly, I have issues with getting past offenses and infractions by friends and former lovers. I appreciate having identified areas where I need growth. I like growing and healing.
It takes a lot of effort to ignore the "big" picture and focus on the daily minutiae. By force of habit, I generally look at my heap of problems with a wide-angle lens and proceed to panic. I start adding up the details like starting the teaching certification program, writing final exams, completing my re-application, investigating the prospect of unemployment benefits, locating a local dance studio, and impending moves and near-poverty this summer, and I find myself taking shallow, infrequent breaths.
But, with effort, I'm choosing to focus on the small accomplishments I manage each day, and I can count them as triumphs and build from there. My to-do list is finally a little shorter, and I had so much control over that the whole time. It means I can actually spend more time training at the gym and, ultimately, exercise has been my best therapy. So things are looking up.
Currently, I'm indulging in a positive relationship with myself. I haven't been my kindest critic, and consequently I stagger beneath the crippling weight of my own guilt complex. Everyone I inform this of insists that it's unhealthy and I have to learn to forgive myself. Friends have also reminded me that if I am unable to forgive myself, it's unlikely that I will be able to forgive others. Admittedly, I have issues with getting past offenses and infractions by friends and former lovers. I appreciate having identified areas where I need growth. I like growing and healing.
It takes a lot of effort to ignore the "big" picture and focus on the daily minutiae. By force of habit, I generally look at my heap of problems with a wide-angle lens and proceed to panic. I start adding up the details like starting the teaching certification program, writing final exams, completing my re-application, investigating the prospect of unemployment benefits, locating a local dance studio, and impending moves and near-poverty this summer, and I find myself taking shallow, infrequent breaths.
But, with effort, I'm choosing to focus on the small accomplishments I manage each day, and I can count them as triumphs and build from there. My to-do list is finally a little shorter, and I had so much control over that the whole time. It means I can actually spend more time training at the gym and, ultimately, exercise has been my best therapy. So things are looking up.
3.29.2012
Every time we do it...
I remember something about what I used to love. It comes back to me like the wisps of a forgotten dream, and I chase it and grasp at it and it disappears just as quickly. But I still saw it, and I can conjure it up again.
There is love for dancing, feeling the music and manifesting pure loving energy in every cell. There is love for creatures and the spark of life (not that I forgot this one; I just begrudgingly dislike many of my fellow species too often to remember that I love them more). There is the profundity of the infinite cosmos, and being able to see the universe at night every night, and driving home gazing at Venus and Jupiter and Mars along the same horizon. There is the promise that I am doing something with my life that is helping, or at the very least, inspiring young people.
Of course, there is also the battle of insignificance. Am I doing what I should? Is there another direction that I have brazenly disregarded because I've followed the sweeping path of the current into this remarkably complex living arrangement, yet again
And I want to love where I am and who I am, but I have made it so damned hard for myself. Who loves carrying around a pile of complicated nonsense for a year at a time, only to dump it (along with every necessity therein) and start over completely, struggling to replace it and gradually building up another jumbled, preposterous mass? Who could love that?!
Astonishingly, I gravitate to this lifestyle. Do I love it after all?
I need a shower and sleep.
There is love for dancing, feeling the music and manifesting pure loving energy in every cell. There is love for creatures and the spark of life (not that I forgot this one; I just begrudgingly dislike many of my fellow species too often to remember that I love them more). There is the profundity of the infinite cosmos, and being able to see the universe at night every night, and driving home gazing at Venus and Jupiter and Mars along the same horizon. There is the promise that I am doing something with my life that is helping, or at the very least, inspiring young people.
Of course, there is also the battle of insignificance. Am I doing what I should? Is there another direction that I have brazenly disregarded because I've followed the sweeping path of the current into this remarkably complex living arrangement, yet again
And I want to love where I am and who I am, but I have made it so damned hard for myself. Who loves carrying around a pile of complicated nonsense for a year at a time, only to dump it (along with every necessity therein) and start over completely, struggling to replace it and gradually building up another jumbled, preposterous mass? Who could love that?!
Astonishingly, I gravitate to this lifestyle. Do I love it after all?
I need a shower and sleep.
3.11.2012
Cactus wren song
It's beautiful, when a cactus wren sings, though the first time it meets one's ears, it sounds coarse and agitated. But it is a song of joy, celebrating life, pronouncing the wren's presence and expressing hope for a courtship. Or simply because it is day time.
Though I fancy myself one who does not take those simple phenomena for granted, a fair number of easy life lessons slip my attention until I have to painfully double back and reevaluate the evidence.
This is life in the aftermath, following what feels emotionally similar to a divorce, where I assess all the things that identify my philosophy, my goals, and my adulthood. It's funny how afraid I was to transcend over to the single side of this ordeal; everything I did was flagged with how I might convey or share it with someone who was busying himself with anything that did not involve me, and I was desperate not to know a life without him in it. I felt as though that bald exposure to the world, without this sense of protection, would leave me completely vulnerable and incapable of existing.
I feel less resentment, as I should, because forgiveness is clearly the only task left to complete. Still, nothing compels me to engage in any contact or even to see his face. That he could move on with his life, that he already had moved on before I had the courage to, and that he could still be operating his life in the same irresponsible, emotionally damaged fashion is simply more than I can tolerate. I want no part of his life if I am not part of his life. And furthermore, I am better off without him; had I only understood this sooner!
Then came a stretch when I needed validation. I was broken, long neglected and undesired. I was quickly replaced. So I put myself in plain view and got what I was looking for: attention. It wasn't always from the ideal source, nor did it satisfy any other social requirements, but I had such deep wounds that the only balm was a warm embrace and some calculated blandishments.
Six months later, just a matter of weeks after I limped away from the battle ground, I am finally learning who I am again. I have my priorities more in line, I have a quiet sanctuary where I may retreat each night, and I am present in my adult matters. No hiding, no shrugging and hoping for the least possible consequence, and certainly no accepting mediocrity. I am a strong woman and I bled and cried and fought my way to this place and I will not accept passive ignorance or self-centeredness. I surround myself with strong, fearless, capable people who support me and do not cut me down out of insecurity or weak personal communication skills. I seek spiritual growth and I connect to the living things by which I am surrounded and to whom I am indebted. I talk to God. I acknowledge the profundity of the spiraling galaxy we orbit around that is visible nearly EVERY NIGHT in the desert (light pollution permitting). I take seriously the task of enlightening my science students with a reverence and an understanding of the vast network of interconnected shifts and lives and chemicals and physics. Life is truly beautiful, and I believe this with my whole being and I strive to keep it in the front of my mind so that it surely influences my behavior and my choices and my thoughts and my gratitude.
And I thank creatures like the artless cactus wren, whose unpretentious song fills the springtime air and reminds me to live by my truths and mind those valuable lessons.
Amen.
Though I fancy myself one who does not take those simple phenomena for granted, a fair number of easy life lessons slip my attention until I have to painfully double back and reevaluate the evidence.
This is life in the aftermath, following what feels emotionally similar to a divorce, where I assess all the things that identify my philosophy, my goals, and my adulthood. It's funny how afraid I was to transcend over to the single side of this ordeal; everything I did was flagged with how I might convey or share it with someone who was busying himself with anything that did not involve me, and I was desperate not to know a life without him in it. I felt as though that bald exposure to the world, without this sense of protection, would leave me completely vulnerable and incapable of existing.
I feel less resentment, as I should, because forgiveness is clearly the only task left to complete. Still, nothing compels me to engage in any contact or even to see his face. That he could move on with his life, that he already had moved on before I had the courage to, and that he could still be operating his life in the same irresponsible, emotionally damaged fashion is simply more than I can tolerate. I want no part of his life if I am not part of his life. And furthermore, I am better off without him; had I only understood this sooner!
Then came a stretch when I needed validation. I was broken, long neglected and undesired. I was quickly replaced. So I put myself in plain view and got what I was looking for: attention. It wasn't always from the ideal source, nor did it satisfy any other social requirements, but I had such deep wounds that the only balm was a warm embrace and some calculated blandishments.
Six months later, just a matter of weeks after I limped away from the battle ground, I am finally learning who I am again. I have my priorities more in line, I have a quiet sanctuary where I may retreat each night, and I am present in my adult matters. No hiding, no shrugging and hoping for the least possible consequence, and certainly no accepting mediocrity. I am a strong woman and I bled and cried and fought my way to this place and I will not accept passive ignorance or self-centeredness. I surround myself with strong, fearless, capable people who support me and do not cut me down out of insecurity or weak personal communication skills. I seek spiritual growth and I connect to the living things by which I am surrounded and to whom I am indebted. I talk to God. I acknowledge the profundity of the spiraling galaxy we orbit around that is visible nearly EVERY NIGHT in the desert (light pollution permitting). I take seriously the task of enlightening my science students with a reverence and an understanding of the vast network of interconnected shifts and lives and chemicals and physics. Life is truly beautiful, and I believe this with my whole being and I strive to keep it in the front of my mind so that it surely influences my behavior and my choices and my thoughts and my gratitude.
And I thank creatures like the artless cactus wren, whose unpretentious song fills the springtime air and reminds me to live by my truths and mind those valuable lessons.
Amen.
2.22.2012
And when I'm feeling more like a human
Nursing an injury is so tedious, especially when the threat of budget, time, long commute, and previous obesity give me extreme anxiety over gaining any kind of weight. When I had a broken toe, and missed six weeks of Muay Thai, I could literally FEEL my fitness diminishing and it took weeks to get back into the groove. I pushed myself so hard to catch up.
For the past three weeks, at least, I've had a pinched nerve in my hip. Horror stories of incurable sciatica pain found their way into my heart, discouraging my hopes of recovery and retaining what youth I have left for an active lifestyle. Honestly, the outlook was bleak. Only in the past week, following a chiropractor visit, have I begun to feel as though I am healing. Thank God for this recovery; I went to a boxing class last night and no excruciating hip pain drove me out early. I noticed a fair amount of soreness, like whiplash, in the lower half of my back, but that must certainly be from all the lurching and seizing up my muscles endured each time that pinched nerve zapped me. Today, though I don't feel like I'm slipping back into the injury, I can tell I still need to take it easy. Stupid sports injuries.
On the other hand, I'm an athlete, or at least I'm somewhat athletic. I dance weekly. I participate in boxing, kickboxing, or Muay Thai every week (even when I was injured, I did at least one class a week). I don't run like I should or want to, and I wish I had any kind of time for yoga or meditation, but either way...today I feel like I am ascending once more, rather than slipping back into fat land.
I won't go back, dammit. I will never gain that weight back.
Furthermore, working out is my therapy! I did not enjoy last night's class; I was struggling with limited lung capacity, a great deal of fatigue and lactic acid, low stamina, and ridiculous heartburn from eating spicy scrambled eggs two hours earlier. It was miserable! Still, as I walked out of class, I realized I did not have a headache, I felt alert, accomplished, and most importantly I felt no shooting hip pain. What a relief. I can move forward with my life.
***
It is possibly a symptom of a whole gamut of recent lifestyle and philosophy changes that I surround myself with the most incredible, encouraging, openly loving people. People who don't quit when life is inconvenient, who never shy away from challenge, who dream big and who stay positive and avoid incessant harping. Long gone are the days of fickle, two-faced, pathological "friends" who served only their own interests and honored only those commitments that suited their capricious preference or validated their insecurities. The last of those "friends" to be scratched off my list was Toby. I held onto him for dear life, afraid of what losing him might mean. What happens to this understanding and insight into my heart that he possesses? The idea of starting over with someone felt too great, but I neglected to note my own renovation of my social life to date. Toby was just the last detail to address, the biggest detail.
He represents the end of that side of me. The girl who let people walk on her, back out on plans, condemn and criticize, or gang up on her, simply to avoid burning bridges or enforcing her boundaries. I'll suggest a few possible causes for this new me:
*I'm a teacher who must strictly patrol and enforce classroom protocol and policy
*Therapy in 2008 that brought me back from the brink of near-suicidal depression
*Living alone in a foreign country, and subsequently traveling alone in other foreign countries
*Belly dancing (semi-professionally!)
*Earning a black belt in a martial art (never saw that coming!)
*Losing 85lbs!
All of these things have influence on each other, and are reinforced by one another. So, having this new life with all these mature and emotionally healthy standards, how could I possibly entertain unhealthy friendships? It is most beneficial to have exorcised them from my heart.
I do miss Yoshi, though. Maybe sometime this year I'll get my own place and demand that Toby give me at least partial custody. That does mean at least occasionally interacting with Toby, but I'm sure at some point I won't loathe the sight or thought of him. Maybe after that point.
Anyway, I don't need to trash Toby to explain that I am very blessed to have the people in my life that I now take special care to involve in my life. They are in my corner, they notice, they care, they are genuinely fond of me, they turn to me for help, they reciprocate with support, they are honest with me, they are brilliant, fun, witty, and intellectually challenging. They are not voluntarily ignorant, or pompously opinionated. They are good, strong people. They are each blessings and gifts from God.
I even have amazing students (usually). Some of them teeter between mediocre and excellent, and others are steadfastly wonderful. I am blessed to have these kids in my life, too.
I have to remind myself to be grateful, because sometimes I can be blinded by fatigue and stress and my own ambition, and it causes me to forget that life is still beautiful and God is still good. These people around me are carrying me through the most difficult times in my life, and I know that I am worthy of this love.
For the past three weeks, at least, I've had a pinched nerve in my hip. Horror stories of incurable sciatica pain found their way into my heart, discouraging my hopes of recovery and retaining what youth I have left for an active lifestyle. Honestly, the outlook was bleak. Only in the past week, following a chiropractor visit, have I begun to feel as though I am healing. Thank God for this recovery; I went to a boxing class last night and no excruciating hip pain drove me out early. I noticed a fair amount of soreness, like whiplash, in the lower half of my back, but that must certainly be from all the lurching and seizing up my muscles endured each time that pinched nerve zapped me. Today, though I don't feel like I'm slipping back into the injury, I can tell I still need to take it easy. Stupid sports injuries.
On the other hand, I'm an athlete, or at least I'm somewhat athletic. I dance weekly. I participate in boxing, kickboxing, or Muay Thai every week (even when I was injured, I did at least one class a week). I don't run like I should or want to, and I wish I had any kind of time for yoga or meditation, but either way...today I feel like I am ascending once more, rather than slipping back into fat land.
I won't go back, dammit. I will never gain that weight back.
Furthermore, working out is my therapy! I did not enjoy last night's class; I was struggling with limited lung capacity, a great deal of fatigue and lactic acid, low stamina, and ridiculous heartburn from eating spicy scrambled eggs two hours earlier. It was miserable! Still, as I walked out of class, I realized I did not have a headache, I felt alert, accomplished, and most importantly I felt no shooting hip pain. What a relief. I can move forward with my life.
***
It is possibly a symptom of a whole gamut of recent lifestyle and philosophy changes that I surround myself with the most incredible, encouraging, openly loving people. People who don't quit when life is inconvenient, who never shy away from challenge, who dream big and who stay positive and avoid incessant harping. Long gone are the days of fickle, two-faced, pathological "friends" who served only their own interests and honored only those commitments that suited their capricious preference or validated their insecurities. The last of those "friends" to be scratched off my list was Toby. I held onto him for dear life, afraid of what losing him might mean. What happens to this understanding and insight into my heart that he possesses? The idea of starting over with someone felt too great, but I neglected to note my own renovation of my social life to date. Toby was just the last detail to address, the biggest detail.
He represents the end of that side of me. The girl who let people walk on her, back out on plans, condemn and criticize, or gang up on her, simply to avoid burning bridges or enforcing her boundaries. I'll suggest a few possible causes for this new me:
*I'm a teacher who must strictly patrol and enforce classroom protocol and policy
*Therapy in 2008 that brought me back from the brink of near-suicidal depression
*Living alone in a foreign country, and subsequently traveling alone in other foreign countries
*Belly dancing (semi-professionally!)
*Earning a black belt in a martial art (never saw that coming!)
*Losing 85lbs!
All of these things have influence on each other, and are reinforced by one another. So, having this new life with all these mature and emotionally healthy standards, how could I possibly entertain unhealthy friendships? It is most beneficial to have exorcised them from my heart.
I do miss Yoshi, though. Maybe sometime this year I'll get my own place and demand that Toby give me at least partial custody. That does mean at least occasionally interacting with Toby, but I'm sure at some point I won't loathe the sight or thought of him. Maybe after that point.
Anyway, I don't need to trash Toby to explain that I am very blessed to have the people in my life that I now take special care to involve in my life. They are in my corner, they notice, they care, they are genuinely fond of me, they turn to me for help, they reciprocate with support, they are honest with me, they are brilliant, fun, witty, and intellectually challenging. They are not voluntarily ignorant, or pompously opinionated. They are good, strong people. They are each blessings and gifts from God.
I even have amazing students (usually). Some of them teeter between mediocre and excellent, and others are steadfastly wonderful. I am blessed to have these kids in my life, too.
I have to remind myself to be grateful, because sometimes I can be blinded by fatigue and stress and my own ambition, and it causes me to forget that life is still beautiful and God is still good. These people around me are carrying me through the most difficult times in my life, and I know that I am worthy of this love.
2.21.2012
When I'm feeling like nobody
These days of dragging my limbs, prizing my way through the barriers before each hour of every laborious day, forcing myself to remember to suck enough air into my lungs, facing the bleak realizations that my dearest loves cause me financial hemorrhaging, unable to perform a consistent character role in front of a hundred scrutinizing judges. These days of knowing I am healing and still putting myself within firing range. These horrible days of endless options and no options at all, no confidence, years of empty qualifications earned. These days that turn into weeks of bad habits, poor choices, slipping backwards, short tempers, malnutrition, and empty gas tanks.
I am, quite literally, almost always running on empty. Fueling up costs me at least $50 each time, and driving to Phoenix for my dance commitments nearly 8 times a month is running me around $300 a month, at least. I am officially the proud possessor of two dollar bills and zero bank account funds. One of my students was robbed of his vending machine lunch during my class, and because we were unable to turn it up from the students, I covered the cost of it even though I honestly could not afford to give him the money. I can't get to work tomorrow, I literally have so little gasoline. And I've done this all to myself.
With my grand plans, and all my years of effort, I feel no closer to my goal of graduate school. I've not even been officially rejected, but with three full months gone by, there's not much reason to hold on to that hope. It's going to take another year, more applications, more fees, more trying.
***
I am, quite literally, almost always running on empty. Fueling up costs me at least $50 each time, and driving to Phoenix for my dance commitments nearly 8 times a month is running me around $300 a month, at least. I am officially the proud possessor of two dollar bills and zero bank account funds. One of my students was robbed of his vending machine lunch during my class, and because we were unable to turn it up from the students, I covered the cost of it even though I honestly could not afford to give him the money. I can't get to work tomorrow, I literally have so little gasoline. And I've done this all to myself.
With my grand plans, and all my years of effort, I feel no closer to my goal of graduate school. I've not even been officially rejected, but with three full months gone by, there's not much reason to hold on to that hope. It's going to take another year, more applications, more fees, more trying.
***
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