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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

***

Another November

I'm nearly 29 years old. Nineteen days away. I spent the better part of this past year moping through sporadic work assignments, diligent job application submissions, an unsalvageable and unrecognizeable relationship, maintaining a healthy weight, building brief relationships with children and adults in numerous settings, financial uncertainty, deep loneliness, staggering generosity and kindness of others, and dubious personal growth. This time last year I was wallowing in heartbreak.

Having given this idea another run, double the effort, no holds barred in honesty and genuine love and affection and avoiding any resentment, watching it come to an end this time around makes sense and it feels officially final. I know it's my fault; I insisted that we keep this relationship on life support because I simply could not cope with the idea that it would just die, just like that, and I'd have another thing to mourn and grieve over losing. When we broke up a few weeks ago, I braced myself for the rushing wind as the love of my life and everything we've ever had together for over a decade ceased to be the center of my world. I held my breath and waited for the implosion.

At this point, no natural disasters, no floods or fires, but my heart is a heavy weight and I am a fragile shell and I am only just able to tread water. But it still feels final; it really is over and it really needed to end. I'm not embittered, nor am I confused and lost without him. I love him, I respect him, I'm deeply disappointed that things didn't work out the way I had fantasized they would, and I still care about him. I am unable, however, to look him straight in the eye or act like we can be casual friends because for me the cards were on the table: I wanted to have this man forever. He knew that. He kept me far away and reminded me that he didn't want the responsibilities of a relationship and demonstrated how little he would do for the skeletal relationship that he obliged me because I couldn't just let go over the summer. He has his own issues that he has never addressed in a mature, emotionally-sound place. He has so many self-hatred demons to face. I hope he does face them and win. It's growth he's needed for as long as I've known him; it's a blockage I've always known him to possess.

I'm also just really sad. Mine is not the kind of job that finishes influencing me when I leave campus. It follows me home, directs almost everything I talk about, and demands attention in the evenings and on weekends. As I painstakingly assemble a routine and any kind of preparation in advance, I can see the tight grip loosening ever so slightly. I find myself angry and tense, and there's no window I can yell all my problems out of into the gales that would drown them out and take them away from me.

I lack the sense of daily accomplishment that I work so hard for and thrive so much from. I simply chip away at an excavation site filled with papers and glassware and gradebooks and lab preparations and collected homework and pushy emails from parents and copious professional development meetings and difficult and possibly confusing material and endless options for references. Craving a sense of completion each day has brought me to a place of void and bitterness. I could work 24 hours a day and barely be ahead of where I am.

Yes, this is the first year of teaching. The nasty things people in the media say or repeat about teachers having it easy are enough to make my blood boil.

I need a balance in my life desperately. The pendulum is swinging. I have something cresting on the horizon and it's only a matter of time.

Well obviously I'm doing it to my own disfavor. I'm clinging tightly to what I expect from others. I let go of some specific expectations from Toby, but it kind of seems part and parcel; now it doesn't make any sense to hold onto the other things. Especially when he makes no significant effort to stay in touch with me. It's a deliberate effort to push me out of his life.

I'll be brief but I want to put something here that has affected my spirit in a meaningful way:



I am a sponge for other people's energy. I desperately hope that I don't announce that to others in earnest and have it misconstrued as an excuse, because I genuinely have to struggle with the negative energy of others, and I am beaming after interacting with positive people. I am agitated after time with critical, standoffish, belligerent, judgemental, contentious, needy, selfish, inconsiderate people.

I'm especially agitated tonight. I ought to go to bed, because there's nothing that brooding over a lousy disappointment will fix. Sleep repairs most of my grumpiness, so it seems only logical to go to bed.

The next week and a half really need to be a step up from this, socially. In other respects, today was a find day; truly grand, in fact. I made a major leap forward in my field, as far as I'm concerned. My understanding seems clearer, my goals more specific and attainable, my path more defined. I have skills and I have experience and I know various things going on in my field. I could hold a conversation with someone whom I admire greatly, and I learned a huge amount from him today. I didn't bumble around with inarticulate, rambling sentences or self-aggrandize or tactlessly pursue conversation I oughtn't.

Where I'd like to work on things, truly, is how to separate myself from the self-conscious notion that everyone else has it figured out, but that I'm still some socially-stunted freak.

I don't want to pine away for someone to love and desire me. I've been hurting to be special for a long damned time. I just want to let it go.