Well, I guess I should update if for no other purpose, it will no longer look as though I were drowning in despair.
Things are fine. They are busy. I have never been this busy at a job before, even at those in which I *thought* I was busy, but no. Not nearly like this. I'm blogging this during my one free hour of my calendar today and though it's 2:00, I've already been on 8 calls this morning. I work for a global company now, and I'm among "senior management" even though with such a large organization, there are probably about a hundred of us.
My routine has totally shifted. I drive to work everyday now, and I haven't spent so much time in the car in years. I am working in another county, and my view outside my window is no longer the Capitol, but ... Macy's. I'm doing the backwards commute though, and still living in DC proper with no plans to leave. One of my favorite times of the day are coming home in the evenings (and I'll miss this when the sun starts setting later) and seeing all the monuments lit up by the sunset, and all the taillights heading south or north out of the city. I coast in, unhindered by traffic, and wave goodbye to everyone leaving my city to us urban dwellers.
My ankle still hurts all the ding dang time. Yes, yes, yes I'm in physical therapy and although that helps, I'm still also in pain a good deal. I have to actively NOT limp while out in public. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don't. Luckily, my job lets me telework sometimes so if it gets really bad, I stay home. Although I've only done that twice I think.
Let's see....I'm not dating anyone, not trying to date anyone, and the way I've been eating and not at all exercising due to the pain, I can say with cheerful certainty that I am probably the most unhealthy I've ever been. I used to try hard to drink alot of water each day, now I have no time to make to the bathroom much less to the kitchen to GET water. It's something I'm going to have to work on, but not right now. We're gearing up for our huge convention, I work late every night, and I refuse to throw myself on board a guilt trip train about not eating my broccoli. I'll get to it. Not today, though.
Since it's Friday, and since several things have made me giggle lately, I'll leave you with these 2 videos to give a little glimpse of where I work and live. Gauranteed to make you laugh. Happy Friday. Better get the phone.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
It is not going well.
There is a line from a movie, and I'll be damned if I can remember absolutely anything about it. Other than someone shouts (I think into a phone) with a lot of chaos and things going on around him. He shouts "It is not going well!"
So this is me, shouting that at all of you, so to speak. It is not going well.
2012 kicked off with me passed out on the couch, having drank too much Dayquil I guess. And overdosed on amoxicilian. I did have a big glass of red wine thinking that wouldn't be too big of a deal -- ha ha! I was asleep in about one minute after finishing it.
Let's see-- the day before last night, found me curled in a fetal position crying. All day. ALL DAY.
This may be a good time to mention that I was 8 days off my antidepressant, having left it at my office before going to Kentucky. When I came back, I guess I felt ok because I decided there was no time like the present to just toss that little sugar pill to the curb.
Sugar pill, my white ass. My head was spinning so fast that I almost passed out at Trader Joes last week. I realized the power these pills actually do have on my brain, and it scared me. I developed a cold, which I still have, even though I cried uncle and started taking it again 2 days ago. Symptoms for withdrawal actually include cold/flu symptoms. How bizarre is that?? Then again, THIS little fellow was sickly all through Christmas, and there was no way I could resist kissing that face again and again....so we'll blame him, too :)
Christmas was alright. It actually went a little better than expected since I got to see my nieces and nephews at their own houses after Santa came, and it worked out okay after all. I think I made the whole thing a bigger deal than it really was--the issue of them wanting to be at home on Christmas Day and not with the whole family. They didn't mind if I was there, but they wanted to be at home lazing around with Santa presents, and I understand that when I stop looking at things through my "all about me" lens. I know how fast and fleeting these years of Santa are, and I am glad I got over it and didn't inadvertantly punish myself by not going over and seeing them.
Work is going to start kicking my ass to the next county, starting approximately tomorrow. We're officially closed, but I'm treating it like a regular work day, and I'm determined to start this off right. It's time for me to dig in with both heels and get through the next few months. I think when it's done, I'm going to take a small vacation.
It will not be a cruise.
But most likely...I'll go home to see these people. The last picture is me with my newest nephew, who is much much cuter than that picture portrays. He also doesn't have creepy white eyes like that. :) He's my last little bundle, as my sisters declare they are done.
All signs seem to indicate that I will be alone for the rest of my entire life. But...I guess fingers are crossed that someday, maybe, I'll contribute to the pack as well.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Attention
There are many issues I have with attention.
Issue Number One -- I am needy. Duh. The end.
Issue Number Two -- Span.
My attention span is incredibly short. For someone who can literally read books over and over and over again, and can dedicate incredible attention to the television shows LOST and West Wing, I am lousy at focusing on anything for a long period of time. I very rarely sit and do one thing. I always have to be texting/reading/watching TV/on the laptop, often all at the same time. Since entering my working life, I am really examining my attention span and how it affects my career.
For starters, I will say that my career is frankly, phenomenal. It is also a miracle. A phenomenal miracle, if you will. My best friend Andre'a (chime in and confirm this, buddy), will tell you that I did almost no homework in high school. Ever. I spent much of my time dancing around her room while SHE did homework, doodling on her homework pages, roaming through her house looking for chicken nuggets. You know - the important things.
Even in elementary school, my schoolwork left alot to be desired. I kind of half-assed my way through, and I really don't remember middle school in the least as far as academics go. I never had "homework time" or any kind of structure in the house other than doing math homework with my dad (while crying, so that's probably the only reason I remember that). I am terribly bad at math.
Side Note: Once, when I was having a hard time in Geometry or some shit, I don't know, my mom just sighed and said "Oh honey, it doesn't matter. Just get your C and get out." I guess that acorn didn't fall far from the tree.
Here's what I did in class: daydream. And I'm not talking about your normal daydreams, I had immense elaborate daydreams all about when I was an adult. Looking back, I realize how little control I had over my own life (obviously, as most kids do, but I had even less so) and I guess all that fantasizing about my future life was a comfort. I had all these children in my daydreams, and I had their names and outfits, and whatever, all picked out. I would play little scenarios in my head about things we were doing/places we were going/etc. I did this all.the.time. School? Eh. I absolutely could NOT care. My mind just skipped and wondered and jumped.
Sure, I rallied enough to pass and be average. But honestly, I thought I wasn't altogether that bright. My parents refused to tell me my IQ, and I wasn't in any of the honors classes or anything. I just skipped along, right up til graduation day, when I walked out with a solid 3.0 average thanks entirely to a senior year class schedule that had consisted of Parenting (yes, that was a class), office aide, and drivers ed. Oh, and English.
I got into a good college, probably only because I know my entrance essay was good. My parents always expressed a little surprise whenever I did things that were good, academically (see why I thought I was a bit dim?) My dad actually voiced that he didnt think I'd do as well as I did on the ACTs, and my mother voiced that she was surprised I got into the private, liberal arts college that I attended.
I did better in college. Pretty good, actually. But I very, very rarely did more than what was required.
What did I like? Working.
I started working at the chamber of commerce when I was a junior in college, as a paid intern to track legislation, do the menial stuff, etc. This job, while very basic, blew my world open. By 20 or 21, I was sick of college. I was sick of the sorority house, sick of the classwork, sick of my friends. Most of them graduated when I was still a sophomore, since I (then, now, and always will mostly likely) tend to gravitate toward people older than me for my friends. I majored in Sociology. I drifted around Denmark. I didn't have any career aspirations in the slightest, but I liked this. Government and politics suited me.
So, I kept going.
I interned at 3 places before landing my first job here in DC, and my career took off like a lightning bolt because of one lucky break. I was handed an issue (a particular piece of healthcare) that was in its infancy, and then Congress allocated nearly $80 billion to make this little issue into a big one. I'm not being coy (well, maybe a little), but I'm also saving you enormous amounts of time by not going into detail. I had already gotten into a graduate degree program by this time, separate from health but related to government and advocacy work. I was working at a great job, with this as one of my bigger issues, among others I was working on.
Then, the bill passed. Ka-boom.
All of a sudden, I was hot real estate. I was back in Kentucky at the time, but two years ago I was yanked back to DC and landed a fairly senior level healthcare position at 28 years old. Without ever having taken a healthcare course in school, received healthcare policy training, or any kind of training beyond three years of writing issue briefs, etc, on my little slice of the healthcare pie. All of a sudden, I was having to take big bites out of the other pieces, and in some cases, I had absolutely NO idea what I was doing. I spent a lot of time giving myself a masters in public health on my own since my own masters degree was basically useless.
That was overwhelming. A few short months on the job, healthcare reform (Obamacare, for all the Fox News watchers) passed. I actually cried. Cried. Not only was I going to be learning how things were going to change, I still hadn't figured out completely how things already were. That job sucked on many levels and spiraled me down into a lovely bout of depression, made my self esteem plummet and I honestly don't know if I ever should have taken it.
But luckily, I got out.
Even more overwhelming? My new job.
I'm now responsible for things that are almost entirely new. I was glad, in a warped way, that I worked for the first several weeks from home so that I could start wrapping my brain around these incredibly complex issue areas without having to worry about office politics or where the bathroom is. But, that's changing now (and that's a good thing). I went into the office for the first time this week, and am settling in okay. My commute is longer, but that's okay. My ankle is holding up well. I'm in the boot for another week, and then I can throw it on the burn pile. I have an office that has scratched up furniture, but I have a TV and that makes me feel like a very cool person :)
When they sent me the job description (I knew some of them over here already, and I'm not sure they interviewed anyone else for this job), I initially turned it down. See, I have absolutely no experience in alot of ways for this. Yes, I've been around this stuff for years. But now I'm doing congressional and federal affairs, and it is an entirely new ballgame. I'm expected to wear a LOT of hats, and I'm frankly feeling like I'm in a sinking boat in some ways because I'm constantly trying to scoop water out of it with too many buckets. I have five aspects to this job that are each at least a part time job in themselves. I'm working late. I'm thinking about work at night.
Until I'm distracted by a shiny object, that is. I am finding it almost impossible to sit down and do many of the aspects of my job--of course I'm doing them, but I feel like it's not good enough. It's all still so new to me, and requires me to do a ton of reading, and alot of thoughtful analysis that I'm expected to provide. I'm worried that I'm going to let my boss down. I'm worried that I'm going to let my clients down. I feel like I'm already screwing up seven ways to Sunday, and I resort to navel-gazing and wondering how in the world I managed to charm these people into offering me a job for which they knew I wasn't the ultimately qualified candidate.
I'm making it. Faking it til I get there, I guess. But damn. I am overwhelmed and scattered and I wish I could just focus. Just stop leaping from one thing to the next, sit down, and read the damn bill or analyze the damn report, or whatever. Stop procrastinating. I'm applying these school habits now to my work (since that's how much learning I feel like I'm doing) and it's not a good thing. It's like I never learned study habits or study skills -- and now I need to study at work. I need to do it fast. I need to be doing it instead of updating this blog, but hey, I needed a distraction.
Time to buckle down. Can I take a nap now?
Issue Number One -- I am needy. Duh. The end.
Issue Number Two -- Span.
My attention span is incredibly short. For someone who can literally read books over and over and over again, and can dedicate incredible attention to the television shows LOST and West Wing, I am lousy at focusing on anything for a long period of time. I very rarely sit and do one thing. I always have to be texting/reading/watching TV/on the laptop, often all at the same time. Since entering my working life, I am really examining my attention span and how it affects my career.
For starters, I will say that my career is frankly, phenomenal. It is also a miracle. A phenomenal miracle, if you will. My best friend Andre'a (chime in and confirm this, buddy), will tell you that I did almost no homework in high school. Ever. I spent much of my time dancing around her room while SHE did homework, doodling on her homework pages, roaming through her house looking for chicken nuggets. You know - the important things.
Even in elementary school, my schoolwork left alot to be desired. I kind of half-assed my way through, and I really don't remember middle school in the least as far as academics go. I never had "homework time" or any kind of structure in the house other than doing math homework with my dad (while crying, so that's probably the only reason I remember that). I am terribly bad at math.
Side Note: Once, when I was having a hard time in Geometry or some shit, I don't know, my mom just sighed and said "Oh honey, it doesn't matter. Just get your C and get out." I guess that acorn didn't fall far from the tree.
Here's what I did in class: daydream. And I'm not talking about your normal daydreams, I had immense elaborate daydreams all about when I was an adult. Looking back, I realize how little control I had over my own life (obviously, as most kids do, but I had even less so) and I guess all that fantasizing about my future life was a comfort. I had all these children in my daydreams, and I had their names and outfits, and whatever, all picked out. I would play little scenarios in my head about things we were doing/places we were going/etc. I did this all.the.time. School? Eh. I absolutely could NOT care. My mind just skipped and wondered and jumped.
Sure, I rallied enough to pass and be average. But honestly, I thought I wasn't altogether that bright. My parents refused to tell me my IQ, and I wasn't in any of the honors classes or anything. I just skipped along, right up til graduation day, when I walked out with a solid 3.0 average thanks entirely to a senior year class schedule that had consisted of Parenting (yes, that was a class), office aide, and drivers ed. Oh, and English.
I got into a good college, probably only because I know my entrance essay was good. My parents always expressed a little surprise whenever I did things that were good, academically (see why I thought I was a bit dim?) My dad actually voiced that he didnt think I'd do as well as I did on the ACTs, and my mother voiced that she was surprised I got into the private, liberal arts college that I attended.
I did better in college. Pretty good, actually. But I very, very rarely did more than what was required.
What did I like? Working.
I started working at the chamber of commerce when I was a junior in college, as a paid intern to track legislation, do the menial stuff, etc. This job, while very basic, blew my world open. By 20 or 21, I was sick of college. I was sick of the sorority house, sick of the classwork, sick of my friends. Most of them graduated when I was still a sophomore, since I (then, now, and always will mostly likely) tend to gravitate toward people older than me for my friends. I majored in Sociology. I drifted around Denmark. I didn't have any career aspirations in the slightest, but I liked this. Government and politics suited me.
So, I kept going.
I interned at 3 places before landing my first job here in DC, and my career took off like a lightning bolt because of one lucky break. I was handed an issue (a particular piece of healthcare) that was in its infancy, and then Congress allocated nearly $80 billion to make this little issue into a big one. I'm not being coy (well, maybe a little), but I'm also saving you enormous amounts of time by not going into detail. I had already gotten into a graduate degree program by this time, separate from health but related to government and advocacy work. I was working at a great job, with this as one of my bigger issues, among others I was working on.
Then, the bill passed. Ka-boom.
All of a sudden, I was hot real estate. I was back in Kentucky at the time, but two years ago I was yanked back to DC and landed a fairly senior level healthcare position at 28 years old. Without ever having taken a healthcare course in school, received healthcare policy training, or any kind of training beyond three years of writing issue briefs, etc, on my little slice of the healthcare pie. All of a sudden, I was having to take big bites out of the other pieces, and in some cases, I had absolutely NO idea what I was doing. I spent a lot of time giving myself a masters in public health on my own since my own masters degree was basically useless.
That was overwhelming. A few short months on the job, healthcare reform (Obamacare, for all the Fox News watchers) passed. I actually cried. Cried. Not only was I going to be learning how things were going to change, I still hadn't figured out completely how things already were. That job sucked on many levels and spiraled me down into a lovely bout of depression, made my self esteem plummet and I honestly don't know if I ever should have taken it.
But luckily, I got out.
Even more overwhelming? My new job.
I'm now responsible for things that are almost entirely new. I was glad, in a warped way, that I worked for the first several weeks from home so that I could start wrapping my brain around these incredibly complex issue areas without having to worry about office politics or where the bathroom is. But, that's changing now (and that's a good thing). I went into the office for the first time this week, and am settling in okay. My commute is longer, but that's okay. My ankle is holding up well. I'm in the boot for another week, and then I can throw it on the burn pile. I have an office that has scratched up furniture, but I have a TV and that makes me feel like a very cool person :)
When they sent me the job description (I knew some of them over here already, and I'm not sure they interviewed anyone else for this job), I initially turned it down. See, I have absolutely no experience in alot of ways for this. Yes, I've been around this stuff for years. But now I'm doing congressional and federal affairs, and it is an entirely new ballgame. I'm expected to wear a LOT of hats, and I'm frankly feeling like I'm in a sinking boat in some ways because I'm constantly trying to scoop water out of it with too many buckets. I have five aspects to this job that are each at least a part time job in themselves. I'm working late. I'm thinking about work at night.
Until I'm distracted by a shiny object, that is. I am finding it almost impossible to sit down and do many of the aspects of my job--of course I'm doing them, but I feel like it's not good enough. It's all still so new to me, and requires me to do a ton of reading, and alot of thoughtful analysis that I'm expected to provide. I'm worried that I'm going to let my boss down. I'm worried that I'm going to let my clients down. I feel like I'm already screwing up seven ways to Sunday, and I resort to navel-gazing and wondering how in the world I managed to charm these people into offering me a job for which they knew I wasn't the ultimately qualified candidate.
I'm making it. Faking it til I get there, I guess. But damn. I am overwhelmed and scattered and I wish I could just focus. Just stop leaping from one thing to the next, sit down, and read the damn bill or analyze the damn report, or whatever. Stop procrastinating. I'm applying these school habits now to my work (since that's how much learning I feel like I'm doing) and it's not a good thing. It's like I never learned study habits or study skills -- and now I need to study at work. I need to do it fast. I need to be doing it instead of updating this blog, but hey, I needed a distraction.
Time to buckle down. Can I take a nap now?
Friday, December 2, 2011
Take 'Em Away
"Take 'em away
Take 'em away, Lord
Take away these chains from me
My heart is broken 'cause
my spirits not free
Lord, take away these chains from me."
This song has me smiling on this sunny Friday afternoon, even though I feel like I've been drug through hell and half of Georgia (as my stepfather is fond of saying).
What's taken away? My CRUTCHES! Gone, gone, fucking gone.
Two more weeks in a walking boot, and then I'm done with this for good. Except for, ya know, that metal that will always be in my ankle until the day I die. But I can WALK, and on Wednesday, my parents left again after driving me back here to DC, and I'm officially company-free. I have no one on the way here. I have no plans to go anywhere until Christmas. I have been on my own before, for a few days at a time, but this is it.
I'm better. Much, much better. The pain was horrific for about two weeks -- right up until Thanksgiving -- as I tried to re-learn walking. Then on Friday after Thanksgiving, it just...went away. I mean, it still hurts with nearly every step. Just a little bit. A little. Not the horrible "oh shit, what if I re-broke this ankle and didn't realize it?" pain.
I also have a lovely cold that seems to be working its way out my system very slooowly. I guess 3 months in virtual quarantine and then slammed with all TEN of my nieces and nephews in one weekend (one DAY) was not exactly a recipe for a fine immune system response. I gave it to my bff as a parting gift, and we've been calling each other to compare coughs everyday. I coughed and hacked through a presentation I gave via conference call to all the company VPs....impressive, I am certain!
Whatever.
I can walk. Things can't be too bad if I can do that.
I finally go into the office next week. I'm going to get dressed - every day! - and go be professional and leave my house every day. What a concept! I'm so ready.
Here goes nothing. And maybe everything.
Take 'em away, Lord
Take away these chains from me
My heart is broken 'cause
my spirits not free
Lord, take away these chains from me."
This song has me smiling on this sunny Friday afternoon, even though I feel like I've been drug through hell and half of Georgia (as my stepfather is fond of saying).
What's taken away? My CRUTCHES! Gone, gone, fucking gone.
Two more weeks in a walking boot, and then I'm done with this for good. Except for, ya know, that metal that will always be in my ankle until the day I die. But I can WALK, and on Wednesday, my parents left again after driving me back here to DC, and I'm officially company-free. I have no one on the way here. I have no plans to go anywhere until Christmas. I have been on my own before, for a few days at a time, but this is it.
I'm better. Much, much better. The pain was horrific for about two weeks -- right up until Thanksgiving -- as I tried to re-learn walking. Then on Friday after Thanksgiving, it just...went away. I mean, it still hurts with nearly every step. Just a little bit. A little. Not the horrible "oh shit, what if I re-broke this ankle and didn't realize it?" pain.
I also have a lovely cold that seems to be working its way out my system very slooowly. I guess 3 months in virtual quarantine and then slammed with all TEN of my nieces and nephews in one weekend (one DAY) was not exactly a recipe for a fine immune system response. I gave it to my bff as a parting gift, and we've been calling each other to compare coughs everyday. I coughed and hacked through a presentation I gave via conference call to all the company VPs....impressive, I am certain!
Whatever.
I can walk. Things can't be too bad if I can do that.
I finally go into the office next week. I'm going to get dressed - every day! - and go be professional and leave my house every day. What a concept! I'm so ready.
Here goes nothing. And maybe everything.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Events, emotions or epiphanies
I find that all blogs are about one or more of those three things. In most blogs that I read (a precious few), each writer describes their life in a very real way--using their real names, posting pictures of the kids, identifying hometown names. They use this medium somewhat as a dear diary recap of the days and years, in which to look back later and watch the kids grow up. Needless to say, I do not do this in the least, and never will.
That's particularly funny to me, since I'm supposed to be of the generation in which online privacy has no value and online piracy is a norm. For the most part, I'm locked up pretty tight in here and I don't disclose the name of my neighborhood in DC, or where I'm from, what it is I do, what my last name is, etc unless I email you directly. I know all too well what can come up on a google search, and I don't want the whole wide world privvy to my thoughts.
That being said, I've based this blog solely on my emotions and/or epiphanies or my epiphanies that then lead to said emotions. It amazes me that anyone reads my blog at all, since I rarely comment on anyone else's, I don't invest much time in this, and it can't be all that exciting to tune in and hear on an alternating basis how blessed I am, how lucky I am vs how lonely I am or how overwhelmed I am with sadness or grief. Most of the blogs I read are full of phenomenal writing, and I feel lucky those people even stop by here for a glance.
So I guess on this day before Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that YOU are here, if you do read this brain dump of emotions and bit of my life.
I'm going through a rough patch. I'm still on the crutches, and it's working on my psyche as I round into week NINE and still in pain with every step I take. It's making me falter emotionally, triggers woe-is-me emotions, and it makes me feel weak instead of strong in a very literal sense.
Today, I'm okay. I expect I'm always going to go through periods of loneliness, the holidays will always be a trigger, etc, because I am starting to think that I need to fully expect my life to remain the way it is for the foreseeable future. I'll have a family, someday, because I'll create one either through single parent adoption or other means, but I'm not sure a family will come to me naturally. I'm not sure I will end up with a partner, in any sense of the word. My life has been spent alone, in alot ofways. I grew up every other week in two different families of five, taking my suitcase back and forth. I lived together yet separately, with my large and jumbled family -- and maybe I'm just destined to do that for the rest of it as well.
I can lash out and get angry, and at the same time feel so petty and small for being that way because I KNOW damn well people love me. For fucks sake, I had a total of six friends drive or fly all the way to DC just to fix me sandwiches and help me to and from the shower. All four of my parents were there, and I wasn't alone for seven straight weeks. Does that sound like a recipe for someone to be wiping away tears because no one loves her? I sound like a child, and sometimes, I frankly feel like one. All my ages are still wrapped up inside me, like the rings of a tree, and sometimes the six year old ring comes out to the front to take over, and remembers that her parents have transitioned into new families, and while they took me along for the ride, it was sink or swim, baby, these are your new sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and cousins and....
And. So, I sit here on my father's couch. I'm working from Kentucky this week, as he drove 10 hours on Saturday to fetch me from DC, and we drove back together on Sunday, so that I could spend Thanksgiving at home. Naturally, my two families are holding Thanksgiving dinners at the exact same time, so I have to choose. I have to be at Mom's, wanting to be at Dad's, or be at Dad's, wanting to be at Mom's. My contribution to the table this year is a side dish of hot, steaming guilt.
I was texting with Mom yesterday and said that I felt horrible about having to choose--that it made me feel like I was having to pick who I loved best, or something. It's been a long time since I've had to actively choose an event over another; typically, we all work together to try to squeeze one another in to a time that works best for everyone. But sometimes, shit just happens. She showed up at my dad's doorstep with a large unsweet iced tea from McDonalds (my all-time favorite), and my childhood bear that I call Muffin, since she decided I was being a little too hard on myself and needed some comfort.
Tonight, I'm going to my sister's house. I have seen her youngest son only once in his four-month old life, and I can't wait to see him and her two daughters. My other sister's son is spending the night, so I'll be running around after a five year old, two four year olds, and a four month old. Or rather...sitting, and whacking them with my crutches if they act up ;) I can't wait to crawl into bed with my two sweet nieces, snuggle up with them and just sleep.
I'm home. Wherever that is and whatever that means. I'm starting to feel like whoever stated the phrase "Wherever you go, there you are" is a damn genius.
Here I am. There you are.
Thanks for being here.
That's particularly funny to me, since I'm supposed to be of the generation in which online privacy has no value and online piracy is a norm. For the most part, I'm locked up pretty tight in here and I don't disclose the name of my neighborhood in DC, or where I'm from, what it is I do, what my last name is, etc unless I email you directly. I know all too well what can come up on a google search, and I don't want the whole wide world privvy to my thoughts.
That being said, I've based this blog solely on my emotions and/or epiphanies or my epiphanies that then lead to said emotions. It amazes me that anyone reads my blog at all, since I rarely comment on anyone else's, I don't invest much time in this, and it can't be all that exciting to tune in and hear on an alternating basis how blessed I am, how lucky I am vs how lonely I am or how overwhelmed I am with sadness or grief. Most of the blogs I read are full of phenomenal writing, and I feel lucky those people even stop by here for a glance.
So I guess on this day before Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that YOU are here, if you do read this brain dump of emotions and bit of my life.
I'm going through a rough patch. I'm still on the crutches, and it's working on my psyche as I round into week NINE and still in pain with every step I take. It's making me falter emotionally, triggers woe-is-me emotions, and it makes me feel weak instead of strong in a very literal sense.
Today, I'm okay. I expect I'm always going to go through periods of loneliness, the holidays will always be a trigger, etc, because I am starting to think that I need to fully expect my life to remain the way it is for the foreseeable future. I'll have a family, someday, because I'll create one either through single parent adoption or other means, but I'm not sure a family will come to me naturally. I'm not sure I will end up with a partner, in any sense of the word. My life has been spent alone, in alot ofways. I grew up every other week in two different families of five, taking my suitcase back and forth. I lived together yet separately, with my large and jumbled family -- and maybe I'm just destined to do that for the rest of it as well.
I can lash out and get angry, and at the same time feel so petty and small for being that way because I KNOW damn well people love me. For fucks sake, I had a total of six friends drive or fly all the way to DC just to fix me sandwiches and help me to and from the shower. All four of my parents were there, and I wasn't alone for seven straight weeks. Does that sound like a recipe for someone to be wiping away tears because no one loves her? I sound like a child, and sometimes, I frankly feel like one. All my ages are still wrapped up inside me, like the rings of a tree, and sometimes the six year old ring comes out to the front to take over, and remembers that her parents have transitioned into new families, and while they took me along for the ride, it was sink or swim, baby, these are your new sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and cousins and....
And. So, I sit here on my father's couch. I'm working from Kentucky this week, as he drove 10 hours on Saturday to fetch me from DC, and we drove back together on Sunday, so that I could spend Thanksgiving at home. Naturally, my two families are holding Thanksgiving dinners at the exact same time, so I have to choose. I have to be at Mom's, wanting to be at Dad's, or be at Dad's, wanting to be at Mom's. My contribution to the table this year is a side dish of hot, steaming guilt.
I was texting with Mom yesterday and said that I felt horrible about having to choose--that it made me feel like I was having to pick who I loved best, or something. It's been a long time since I've had to actively choose an event over another; typically, we all work together to try to squeeze one another in to a time that works best for everyone. But sometimes, shit just happens. She showed up at my dad's doorstep with a large unsweet iced tea from McDonalds (my all-time favorite), and my childhood bear that I call Muffin, since she decided I was being a little too hard on myself and needed some comfort.
Tonight, I'm going to my sister's house. I have seen her youngest son only once in his four-month old life, and I can't wait to see him and her two daughters. My other sister's son is spending the night, so I'll be running around after a five year old, two four year olds, and a four month old. Or rather...sitting, and whacking them with my crutches if they act up ;) I can't wait to crawl into bed with my two sweet nieces, snuggle up with them and just sleep.
I'm home. Wherever that is and whatever that means. I'm starting to feel like whoever stated the phrase "Wherever you go, there you are" is a damn genius.
Here I am. There you are.
Thanks for being here.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Disappearing
Publishing for Mel, who saw it before I took it down, and took the time to write. Thank you, you wonderful woman!
____
Tonight I am tired of borrowing.
I am tired of borrowing other people's families, other people's lives, other people's holidays. All the talk is of Christmas...my sisters want to have Christmas Day with their own families. The families they've created. Well, that's awesome and all, but I have to fly back to DC the very next day. So -what? I'm flying home for no reason? To sit and have Christmas Day alone or with my parents, who I love dearly, but I've seen an extraordinary amount during the past few months.
Oh sure, I guess it would be "okay" if I stopped by one or both of their homes for the day or for a few hours. But I can't help but feel banished, kept away from the sacred time. Time kept tucked away for the people we love the best.
I hate that no one loves me best. I hate that I am no one's "most special." I hate that everyone probably pities me, I hate that I am *that* pathetic woman who lives alone.
I am sad, lonely and frustrated, and tonight I want to just walk away from it all. Just disappear.
Maybe everyone would be better off.
Maybe I would be.
I'm so tired of living this way.
____
Tonight I am tired of borrowing.
I am tired of borrowing other people's families, other people's lives, other people's holidays. All the talk is of Christmas...my sisters want to have Christmas Day with their own families. The families they've created. Well, that's awesome and all, but I have to fly back to DC the very next day. So -what? I'm flying home for no reason? To sit and have Christmas Day alone or with my parents, who I love dearly, but I've seen an extraordinary amount during the past few months.
Oh sure, I guess it would be "okay" if I stopped by one or both of their homes for the day or for a few hours. But I can't help but feel banished, kept away from the sacred time. Time kept tucked away for the people we love the best.
I hate that no one loves me best. I hate that I am no one's "most special." I hate that everyone probably pities me, I hate that I am *that* pathetic woman who lives alone.
I am sad, lonely and frustrated, and tonight I want to just walk away from it all. Just disappear.
Maybe everyone would be better off.
Maybe I would be.
I'm so tired of living this way.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Beauty
I've noticed a blogging theme lately. It's in all the blogs I've read throughout the years, including my own. Periods of dark, gloom doom, alone, grasping, waving and drowning. Then -- light! Counting blessings, letting everyone in the whole wide world know how blessed you are so that you can finally feel it yourself. Listening to the rain and realizing that you have every single thing you need; watching children play while reflecting on the circle of life.
Thus, culminating a blog entry in the perfect way a television show concludes with a song. Something that strums softly, with smiles and laughing kids in the background. Something that shows that through adversity, there is hope.
I do this myself. I veer from lamenting to luminating; scattered to centered.
And in between, there is the every day. The heating up of hot dogs for lunch, the pain in your back, the damn bills that seem to come at the absolute worst times. Laundry. Dishes.
My best friend from childhood until now spent the weekend with me. We didn't take a single picture, but we drank alot of wine and made brownies and she did my laundry and cooking. She was my very last "helper" in this long journey, which has seen all four parents and a grand total of six friends in and out of here altogether.
I told her goodbye, and an hour later I began to walk. No more crutches. I am walking awkwardly, but I'm up.
It hurts like a bitch. Muscles I haven't used in so long are stretching and yelling at me, and I'm beginning the countdown to going into the office. I'm taking off my walking boot and staring at my foot like it's something new that's recently grown.
"Hello,' I say. 'Are you strong enough to get me the hell through this day? This night? This year?"
I'm growing stronger, the nights are growing longer, and there is grace, yes. There is adversity. And I sit, in red plaid pajamas, writing it down to add to the words collectively thrown to the universe that all jumble together. Saying the same things, over again, until we find each other -- each saying the words that we already know, in harmony.
It's like a song I know. I've heard it before.
I already know the words.
Thus, culminating a blog entry in the perfect way a television show concludes with a song. Something that strums softly, with smiles and laughing kids in the background. Something that shows that through adversity, there is hope.
I do this myself. I veer from lamenting to luminating; scattered to centered.
And in between, there is the every day. The heating up of hot dogs for lunch, the pain in your back, the damn bills that seem to come at the absolute worst times. Laundry. Dishes.
My best friend from childhood until now spent the weekend with me. We didn't take a single picture, but we drank alot of wine and made brownies and she did my laundry and cooking. She was my very last "helper" in this long journey, which has seen all four parents and a grand total of six friends in and out of here altogether.
I told her goodbye, and an hour later I began to walk. No more crutches. I am walking awkwardly, but I'm up.
It hurts like a bitch. Muscles I haven't used in so long are stretching and yelling at me, and I'm beginning the countdown to going into the office. I'm taking off my walking boot and staring at my foot like it's something new that's recently grown.
"Hello,' I say. 'Are you strong enough to get me the hell through this day? This night? This year?"
I'm growing stronger, the nights are growing longer, and there is grace, yes. There is adversity. And I sit, in red plaid pajamas, writing it down to add to the words collectively thrown to the universe that all jumble together. Saying the same things, over again, until we find each other -- each saying the words that we already know, in harmony.
It's like a song I know. I've heard it before.
I already know the words.
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