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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.