It's late and I'm tired.
But I wanted to say that today - all day - and then tonight, I was blessed to be reminded how amazing it is to have friends in your life who care about you, who will hold you and up and give you hope when you have no strength left yourself.
I don't have a lot of friends and I think I may be one shorter than I was a few weeks ago, but the ones I have are absolutely incredible.
I was inspired to pull together a few quick quotes on friendship - these are for the people in my life who love me and support me, no matter what.
"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out."
"Your friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you." - Elbert Hubard
"Too late we learn, a man must hold his friend
Unjudged, accepted, trusted to the end." - John Boyle O'Reilly
"The most I can do for my friend is simply to be his friend. I have no wealth to bestow on him. If he knows that I am happy in loving him, he will want no other reward. Is not friendship divine in this?" - Henry David Thoreau
"I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have been to me. I'd like to be the help that you've been always glad to be; I'd like to mean as much to you each minute of the day, as you have meant, old friend of mine, to me along the way." - Edgar A. Guest
"You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back." -Barbara DeAngelis
Someone to lean on when problems appear,
Someone on whom you’d depend,
Someone who’ll lift you when you’re down in the dumps,
That someone is truly a friend.
That’s how I feel about you my dear friend;
You’re so special just as you are.
Just to know that you’re there provides comfort to spare;
A friendship like yours sets the bar.
By Karl and Joanna Fuchs
Friday, January 28, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
the fine line between anger and sadness
I ran across this quote tonight - I like it:
Remember, there are no mistakes, only lessons. Love yourself, trust your choices, and everything is possible. ~
Remember, there are no mistakes, only lessons. Love yourself, trust your choices, and everything is possible. ~
Monday, January 24, 2011
meltdown
My most recent craptastic poem was inspired by a minor - major? - meltdown I had this past weekend.
I've mentioned that I'm not exactly in a good place right now emotionally.
Work is absolutely kicking my ass. I'm not sure where I stand there, I feel very backed into a corner with my career path, and nothing ever slows down. I'm great at my job but it's no wonder, I've been doing the damn thing for years. If I'm as great as people insist I am, why is it that my peers both inside and out of the company seem to move along to bigger and better things, while I get my same crappy raises and my extra 50 million projects dumped in my lap because "Oh Andrea we know you'll get them done - you're awesome". Hey and a big fuck you to you too - I may be awesome but how about you show me some other way?!?!?!
I'm having friend problems. For now - that's enough on that topic only to say that they bring me to tears on a too-regular basis. This is nothing new in my life, but this most recent one is with someone unexpected and sucks.
I feel a lot of pressure about being the good girl in general - I feel like I'm disappointing people, myself included, left and right, and I hate it.
So on Saturday, I had a big old meltdown over it. And now I feel simultaneously bad - like I failed everyone for having a tantrum like a 3 year old - and good - because maybe, just maybe, I can be viewed as, perceived as - HUMAN rather than some prodigal golden girl.
I had a big long rant after this but stupid Blogger ate it - AGAIN. Fuckity fuck fuck I give up.
I've mentioned that I'm not exactly in a good place right now emotionally.
Work is absolutely kicking my ass. I'm not sure where I stand there, I feel very backed into a corner with my career path, and nothing ever slows down. I'm great at my job but it's no wonder, I've been doing the damn thing for years. If I'm as great as people insist I am, why is it that my peers both inside and out of the company seem to move along to bigger and better things, while I get my same crappy raises and my extra 50 million projects dumped in my lap because "Oh Andrea we know you'll get them done - you're awesome". Hey and a big fuck you to you too - I may be awesome but how about you show me some other way?!?!?!
I'm having friend problems. For now - that's enough on that topic only to say that they bring me to tears on a too-regular basis. This is nothing new in my life, but this most recent one is with someone unexpected and sucks.
I feel a lot of pressure about being the good girl in general - I feel like I'm disappointing people, myself included, left and right, and I hate it.
So on Saturday, I had a big old meltdown over it. And now I feel simultaneously bad - like I failed everyone for having a tantrum like a 3 year old - and good - because maybe, just maybe, I can be viewed as, perceived as - HUMAN rather than some prodigal golden girl.
I had a big long rant after this but stupid Blogger ate it - AGAIN. Fuckity fuck fuck I give up.
trying to be perfect
Golden hair, blue eyes, gap-toothed smile
Big sister, fair-haired girl, model student
Cries inside and sometimes out
Trying to be perfect, worrying she'd fail.
"You cry too much"
"Grow up, it's just a grade"
"What a loser - look at her sob"
Why's she crying?
Why's she scared and worried?
Trying to be perfect, she knows she's failing.
Gangly, awkward, uncomfortable
Braces, funny hair, too tall, too skinny
"You're the good example
Show them how to do this"
But inside still wondering
How to be perfect as her imperfect world
Crumbles down around her.
The path laid out for her
The order of things is just right
No broken curfews, no bad-boy boyfriends,
The leader of the team
The one left in charge
The good big sister
Is there actually another option?
No
Not when you're trying to be perfect.
A push here, a purposeful trip-up there
"I'm not always your good little girl"
See me for who I am
Not that expectation of the one
Who always makes the right choices
So I don't have to spend my life
Trying to be perfect, trying not to fail.
Off she goes, into her adult life
College first, get a job, meet a good boy
Get married, have a family, toe the line
Do the right thing.
Just enough rebellion in there
To satisfy that little streak
We all have in us, waiting to break free.
But just enough so that
Her goal for perfection is still attainable
So no one is disappointed
So she doesn't fail.
Life presents you with options
Choices, complications, messes
It is nearly impossible to keep that goal
Of being perfect every day
The guidebook doesn't map out
What to do in circumstances
That sit in front of you when you least expect
That tug at your heartstrings, your morals, your goals
That make you see your life
In an entirely different light
When you're just trying to be perfect.
There is that one moment, that one choice
That one pivotal event
It might be small in the broad scheme of life
But what it represents is so signficant
It catches your breath
And makes you realize once and for all
You will never be perfect.
So then what?
Do you change your life all over again?
Years and years of living for everyone else's
Undue expectations
And now your life is formed and shaped
In a way where you don't fit
You aren't perfect
You aren't even really happy
With that life.
Oh it isn't bad
It just isn't yours,
But instead formed out of a series
Of choices made for everyone else
But you
When you were trying to be perfect.
Big sister, fair-haired girl, model student
Cries inside and sometimes out
Trying to be perfect, worrying she'd fail.
"You cry too much"
"Grow up, it's just a grade"
"What a loser - look at her sob"
Why's she crying?
Why's she scared and worried?
Trying to be perfect, she knows she's failing.
Gangly, awkward, uncomfortable
Braces, funny hair, too tall, too skinny
"You're the good example
Show them how to do this"
But inside still wondering
How to be perfect as her imperfect world
Crumbles down around her.
The path laid out for her
The order of things is just right
No broken curfews, no bad-boy boyfriends,
The leader of the team
The one left in charge
The good big sister
Is there actually another option?
No
Not when you're trying to be perfect.
A push here, a purposeful trip-up there
"I'm not always your good little girl"
See me for who I am
Not that expectation of the one
Who always makes the right choices
So I don't have to spend my life
Trying to be perfect, trying not to fail.
Off she goes, into her adult life
College first, get a job, meet a good boy
Get married, have a family, toe the line
Do the right thing.
Just enough rebellion in there
To satisfy that little streak
We all have in us, waiting to break free.
But just enough so that
Her goal for perfection is still attainable
So no one is disappointed
So she doesn't fail.
Life presents you with options
Choices, complications, messes
It is nearly impossible to keep that goal
Of being perfect every day
The guidebook doesn't map out
What to do in circumstances
That sit in front of you when you least expect
That tug at your heartstrings, your morals, your goals
That make you see your life
In an entirely different light
When you're just trying to be perfect.
There is that one moment, that one choice
That one pivotal event
It might be small in the broad scheme of life
But what it represents is so signficant
It catches your breath
And makes you realize once and for all
You will never be perfect.
So then what?
Do you change your life all over again?
Years and years of living for everyone else's
Undue expectations
And now your life is formed and shaped
In a way where you don't fit
You aren't perfect
You aren't even really happy
With that life.
Oh it isn't bad
It just isn't yours,
But instead formed out of a series
Of choices made for everyone else
But you
When you were trying to be perfect.
Friday, January 21, 2011
nearly full moon
It's Friday. I'm exhausted. There's something about these storm-filled, snow-day laden weeks that is a lot more taxing than your regular run-of-the-mill 5 day weeks. Unfortunately, it's New England in winter, and the promise of another storm looms for Tuesday/Wednesday.
G had soccer practice tonight, and then Hubby had a coaches' game (a good excuse for a bunch of grown men to relive their glory days of high school sports and get hurt - LOL), so I ran up after the practice to pick him up. The indoor soccer facility near us is hopping busy pretty much all the time, in part because it's really the only one nearby - the only other one is actually right near where I work. As is typically, it was packed when I got there tonight. Anyway, this resulted in me having to park pretty far from the entrance - and the nasty super-cold weather has begun its march into CT...so it was cold. Really cold.
Luckily, Mother Nature provided me with some solace - shelter from the cold but, more importantly, a sight that gave me a little bit of a warm fuzzy feeling in my currently somewhat sore, twisted, and a little broken heart.
The moon.
It was a full moon - the "wolf" moon - a couple of nights ago. The moon is still pretty round and so bright - tonight is cold and very clear. There are just a few clouds and, as I was walking in to soccer, one was passing by the moon. It was beautiful.
I have this thing with the moon.
Whenever I am in a mood like this, when I'm feeling isolated and a little sad and missing people important to me, if I see the moon, I think that maybe other people are looking at it too - "alongside" me so to speak. People I know and care about, people I don't know who are stressed or sad or lonely like me.
There's something comforting about that - it somehow makes me feel slightly less alone.
I know, a pragmatist like me feeling something that romantic?
Plus, I find something magical in the moon - the cycles of the moon and the nature of it all.
It just made me feel warm - and I hope that there are other people out there who saw it, or see this picture below, and feel the same - a little less alone, a little more love, a little more like there are glimmers of hope in their lives.
G had soccer practice tonight, and then Hubby had a coaches' game (a good excuse for a bunch of grown men to relive their glory days of high school sports and get hurt - LOL), so I ran up after the practice to pick him up. The indoor soccer facility near us is hopping busy pretty much all the time, in part because it's really the only one nearby - the only other one is actually right near where I work. As is typically, it was packed when I got there tonight. Anyway, this resulted in me having to park pretty far from the entrance - and the nasty super-cold weather has begun its march into CT...so it was cold. Really cold.
Luckily, Mother Nature provided me with some solace - shelter from the cold but, more importantly, a sight that gave me a little bit of a warm fuzzy feeling in my currently somewhat sore, twisted, and a little broken heart.
The moon.
It was a full moon - the "wolf" moon - a couple of nights ago. The moon is still pretty round and so bright - tonight is cold and very clear. There are just a few clouds and, as I was walking in to soccer, one was passing by the moon. It was beautiful.
I have this thing with the moon.
Whenever I am in a mood like this, when I'm feeling isolated and a little sad and missing people important to me, if I see the moon, I think that maybe other people are looking at it too - "alongside" me so to speak. People I know and care about, people I don't know who are stressed or sad or lonely like me.
There's something comforting about that - it somehow makes me feel slightly less alone.
I know, a pragmatist like me feeling something that romantic?
Plus, I find something magical in the moon - the cycles of the moon and the nature of it all.
It just made me feel warm - and I hope that there are other people out there who saw it, or see this picture below, and feel the same - a little less alone, a little more love, a little more like there are glimmers of hope in their lives.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
purple platforms
I live with an impulsive, mood-driven shopper. Hubby. When we were first living together, this was actually a huge point of contention between us, as it got him into some debt with me, and since I'm super-OCD about money (read: cheap), it pissed me off. He's definitely made some strides in getting better about this over the years, although he definitely still has his moments. Giving him his own mad money account has helped matters quite a lot.
That said, I am not one to shop impulsively, or because I'm having a bad day/week/month/year/life. Or not ordinarily.
I made an impulse buy yesterday and, while I'm happy about the end result, I feel a little guilty about it and a little weird.
I bought this kick-ass, 4 inch platform heels. They're purple. Lord knows how the hell I'm going to find an outfit to wear them with - but I will. And I will absolutely time the wearing of said shoes in a strategic manner.
But the thing is - I BOUGHT THEM - and I bought them because I was (am) sad and feeling sorry for myself. This is NOT ordinary Andrea behavior. I'm a little stunned by it, really, and wondering if I should take this as a bad sign, or just a sign that I'm struggling right now and needed something - and was grasping at straws.
I know I'm having a hard time right now, and I know it's a problem that I really need to deal with on my own. I know it's impacting my mood in a way that's obvious to most people close to me, unfortunately, G included. He rubbed my back tonight and told me he was sorry I was sad which, of course, broke my heart because I do try to insulate him from these things. I'm not exactly a happy-go-lucky kind of a person on a good day, so the fact that he's noticing - that's a problem, and I need to turn this inward a bit.
I'm getting sick of listening to myself whine, and that combined with the easily noticed mood makes me think that maybe buying the shoes was a good thing. Maybe my quest now to find an outfit to match said shoes will be a good distraction.
The reality is, I am hurt and sad and I feel about 1/2 an inch tall right now because I screwed up. And it all came out of nowhere so it slapped me upside the head without warning. So I guess maybe this is my processing phase.
So yeah, these purple shoes - I'm glad I bought them and I want to wear them soon. But damn, they might always be a symbol of this time. Maybe I'll get to a point where I can look at them and think "I bought those because crap happens and it happened to me - and I survived and came out the other side better, things got better, I was able to mend things and overcome the path I walked on."
I can only hope. And I haven't felt hopeful in a while - so maybe, just maybe, that's a good thing.
That said, I am not one to shop impulsively, or because I'm having a bad day/week/month/year/life. Or not ordinarily.
I made an impulse buy yesterday and, while I'm happy about the end result, I feel a little guilty about it and a little weird.
I bought this kick-ass, 4 inch platform heels. They're purple. Lord knows how the hell I'm going to find an outfit to wear them with - but I will. And I will absolutely time the wearing of said shoes in a strategic manner.
But the thing is - I BOUGHT THEM - and I bought them because I was (am) sad and feeling sorry for myself. This is NOT ordinary Andrea behavior. I'm a little stunned by it, really, and wondering if I should take this as a bad sign, or just a sign that I'm struggling right now and needed something - and was grasping at straws.
I know I'm having a hard time right now, and I know it's a problem that I really need to deal with on my own. I know it's impacting my mood in a way that's obvious to most people close to me, unfortunately, G included. He rubbed my back tonight and told me he was sorry I was sad which, of course, broke my heart because I do try to insulate him from these things. I'm not exactly a happy-go-lucky kind of a person on a good day, so the fact that he's noticing - that's a problem, and I need to turn this inward a bit.
I'm getting sick of listening to myself whine, and that combined with the easily noticed mood makes me think that maybe buying the shoes was a good thing. Maybe my quest now to find an outfit to match said shoes will be a good distraction.
The reality is, I am hurt and sad and I feel about 1/2 an inch tall right now because I screwed up. And it all came out of nowhere so it slapped me upside the head without warning. So I guess maybe this is my processing phase.
So yeah, these purple shoes - I'm glad I bought them and I want to wear them soon. But damn, they might always be a symbol of this time. Maybe I'll get to a point where I can look at them and think "I bought those because crap happens and it happened to me - and I survived and came out the other side better, things got better, I was able to mend things and overcome the path I walked on."
I can only hope. And I haven't felt hopeful in a while - so maybe, just maybe, that's a good thing.
here I am
You asked me
What I wanted
What I felt
Who I was
And where that fit.
At first
I didn't think I could
go down that road
open up
share myself.
My head screamed
CAREFUL
Steer clear
Shelter yourself
It's just too dangerous
There's too much potential
for pain
and confusion.
Good girl
Good choices
Straight line
Right path
Not this time
Now here I am
And there you are
And in between
An abyss of hurt
and sadness
of regret
and wishes
and taunting dreams.
Here I am.
The person I was
yesterday
Is the person who sits here
Waiting
Wondering
Uncertain.
Here I am.
I'm still me.
That doesn't stop
Nor does anything else
just because
of one small moment in time.
Here I am.
Find me.
I'm not gone
And maybe
I'm not that bad.
Maybe, just maybe
All those things you asked
All those things you thought
All those things
Are really who I am.
What I wanted
What I felt
Who I was
And where that fit.
At first
I didn't think I could
go down that road
open up
share myself.
My head screamed
CAREFUL
Steer clear
Shelter yourself
It's just too dangerous
There's too much potential
for pain
and confusion.
Good girl
Good choices
Straight line
Right path
Not this time
Now here I am
And there you are
And in between
An abyss of hurt
and sadness
of regret
and wishes
and taunting dreams.
Here I am.
The person I was
yesterday
Is the person who sits here
Waiting
Wondering
Uncertain.
Here I am.
I'm still me.
That doesn't stop
Nor does anything else
just because
of one small moment in time.
Here I am.
Find me.
I'm not gone
And maybe
I'm not that bad.
Maybe, just maybe
All those things you asked
All those things you thought
All those things
Are really who I am.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
mood song
Many thanks to my friend Susan for once again having such similar taste in music to me and, apparently, finding herself in a similar mood as well.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERvPmR4Q4OE
Our Hearts Are Wrong
Hate has brought me up the stairs
Until you I'll not let hate be the one
To make me make it for you
My self esteem is heating up the room
You're intimidating as hell
But I ain't scare of you
Chorus
I know how you work
I am just like you
No matter what you say
Our hearts are wrong
Our hearts are wrong
Love has brought me down
My gloves have been over due
I tried to deny with all my heart
That I am in love with you
I don't real care
You knew is what I take
The only time I miss you
Is every single day
Chorus
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERvPmR4Q4OE
Our Hearts Are Wrong
Hate has brought me up the stairs
Until you I'll not let hate be the one
To make me make it for you
My self esteem is heating up the room
You're intimidating as hell
But I ain't scare of you
Chorus
I know how you work
I am just like you
No matter what you say
Our hearts are wrong
Our hearts are wrong
Love has brought me down
My gloves have been over due
I tried to deny with all my heart
That I am in love with you
I don't real care
You knew is what I take
The only time I miss you
Is every single day
Chorus
icy rainbow
No...not a double rainbow. I was driving to work today - there was a LOT of ice all over the trees and there was sort of a small bit of sun peeking behind the clouds. As I drove over the bride over the Connecticut River on my way work, out popped a very faint rainbow. It wasn't bright but it was definitely visible. It was beautiful. I had had this dream last night that was full of hope, too, so the combination of the two started my day off pretty well - I thought they were signs it was going to be a good day.
Or not.
Not much I can do except swallow my pride, take some deep breaths (which was actually harder than it sounds earlier today), and move along, hoping today is at least no worse, right?
In any event, in the midst of my day and drive home, I was thinking about people and friendships and relationships, and in true Andrea fashion, I was being a bit hard on myself and wondering if I go about these things all wrong.
I'm frustrated.
I'm tired of being the prodigal daughter, or feeling like one. I feel like that sets me up for failure. I have these small little missteps, shit my parents would totally let go if it weren't me doing them, and because it's me, they poke me with a damn stick over them.
I'm tired of being the good girl, the nice friend, the one who always does the right thing (supposedly). I love that people can count on me and rely on me. I think that's a double-edged sword, though. Somehow, whenever someone is having a difficult time or is in any way upset with me, they can count on me just being understanding. And I am.
But I still have feelings. And sometimes, being that steady person, the one who will understand and try to do right by the people she cares about - I feel like my feelings get forgotten.
Just because I recognize that you're hurt or sad or upset or scared or angry doesn't mean I'm not having similar feelings.
Or not.
Not much I can do except swallow my pride, take some deep breaths (which was actually harder than it sounds earlier today), and move along, hoping today is at least no worse, right?
In any event, in the midst of my day and drive home, I was thinking about people and friendships and relationships, and in true Andrea fashion, I was being a bit hard on myself and wondering if I go about these things all wrong.
I'm frustrated.
I'm tired of being the prodigal daughter, or feeling like one. I feel like that sets me up for failure. I have these small little missteps, shit my parents would totally let go if it weren't me doing them, and because it's me, they poke me with a damn stick over them.
I'm tired of being the good girl, the nice friend, the one who always does the right thing (supposedly). I love that people can count on me and rely on me. I think that's a double-edged sword, though. Somehow, whenever someone is having a difficult time or is in any way upset with me, they can count on me just being understanding. And I am.
But I still have feelings. And sometimes, being that steady person, the one who will understand and try to do right by the people she cares about - I feel like my feelings get forgotten.
Just because I recognize that you're hurt or sad or upset or scared or angry doesn't mean I'm not having similar feelings.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
adventures in ice and working from home
New England weather, frankly, is kicking our ass these last 2 weeks. First, last week, it was 30 - no that's not a typo, it says thirty - inches of snow. Now starting in the wee hours of this morning, snow that changed to sleet by 6am or so...resulting in 2.5 inches of solid ice/slush by 4pm.
Needless to say, the powers that be in our school district - and pretty much every single one across the state - closed school. Again. The kids were out 2 days last week (one of which we were closed as a company - not that that meant anything for me, I spent 7 hours on the phone). Now they were out today. And in light of the heavy ice on the trees outside and the plummeting temps, they may be out again tomorrow.
Today, I was not feeling motivated to brave the treacherous roads, especially when Hubby called me before 6am (he goes in to the gym early) to tell me they were "really really bad". So G and I stayed home. Of course, nothing is that simple. I am in training - again - this week. It started today - 10-2. Ah...4 solid hours of training on the phone with a bored, oversugared, too-long-in-the-house almost 9 year old.
Nothing says "shitty mom" better than what I did, which was ploy him with letting him watch his favorite movie ("Zoom Academy") in my bed, snacks in hand. That covered the first 2 hours of training. The second two, to his credit, he read and played in his room and watched a bit of "Tom and Jerry".
But when I was done, he said "Mom, let's do something together." Hello - broken heart. Now I know my son and I know he knows I wasn't neglecting him on purpose. He knew I had to work and he knew that meant limited Mom/G time.
I still feel - felt? - bad. Horrible. I suck.
I only had an hour after my last class before my next meeting (yes I have a punishing schedule) so we spent in hanging out, wrestling, and working on the extra credit part of his project due next week.
Nothing about motherhood is simple. On days like this, in moments like this, I want to take those women who say that motherhood "comes naturally" to them or "isn't that hard" and slap them.
Hard.
They are not the only people currently waiting for my rage and frustration, but they may be at the top of the list.
In other "fun", apparently while on my training call, I missed one hell of a staff meeting. In classic form for our department, our boss didn't exactly take control - instead, the bossy senior member of the team did, barking orders and criticisms at everyone. She's a real peach sometimes - I do get her perspective, we're floundering as a team and sorely lacking in attention/organization/staff, but COME ON. She needs to get bent sometimes. So...yeah...she needs some slapping, too.
I'll try to keep the rest of my ire to myself. I am quite frustrated and a little sad and bewildered right now - lost perhaps. Who the hell said adulthood was easy? Who said that once you had friends, they'd be there - that life would be free and easy and unfettered.
Adult life is complicated and confusing and tattered and angst-filled at times.
Like now.
Geez, what the hell?
Needless to say, the powers that be in our school district - and pretty much every single one across the state - closed school. Again. The kids were out 2 days last week (one of which we were closed as a company - not that that meant anything for me, I spent 7 hours on the phone). Now they were out today. And in light of the heavy ice on the trees outside and the plummeting temps, they may be out again tomorrow.
Today, I was not feeling motivated to brave the treacherous roads, especially when Hubby called me before 6am (he goes in to the gym early) to tell me they were "really really bad". So G and I stayed home. Of course, nothing is that simple. I am in training - again - this week. It started today - 10-2. Ah...4 solid hours of training on the phone with a bored, oversugared, too-long-in-the-house almost 9 year old.
Nothing says "shitty mom" better than what I did, which was ploy him with letting him watch his favorite movie ("Zoom Academy") in my bed, snacks in hand. That covered the first 2 hours of training. The second two, to his credit, he read and played in his room and watched a bit of "Tom and Jerry".
But when I was done, he said "Mom, let's do something together." Hello - broken heart. Now I know my son and I know he knows I wasn't neglecting him on purpose. He knew I had to work and he knew that meant limited Mom/G time.
I still feel - felt? - bad. Horrible. I suck.
I only had an hour after my last class before my next meeting (yes I have a punishing schedule) so we spent in hanging out, wrestling, and working on the extra credit part of his project due next week.
Nothing about motherhood is simple. On days like this, in moments like this, I want to take those women who say that motherhood "comes naturally" to them or "isn't that hard" and slap them.
Hard.
They are not the only people currently waiting for my rage and frustration, but they may be at the top of the list.
In other "fun", apparently while on my training call, I missed one hell of a staff meeting. In classic form for our department, our boss didn't exactly take control - instead, the bossy senior member of the team did, barking orders and criticisms at everyone. She's a real peach sometimes - I do get her perspective, we're floundering as a team and sorely lacking in attention/organization/staff, but COME ON. She needs to get bent sometimes. So...yeah...she needs some slapping, too.
I'll try to keep the rest of my ire to myself. I am quite frustrated and a little sad and bewildered right now - lost perhaps. Who the hell said adulthood was easy? Who said that once you had friends, they'd be there - that life would be free and easy and unfettered.
Adult life is complicated and confusing and tattered and angst-filled at times.
Like now.
Geez, what the hell?
Monday, January 17, 2011
uninspired
It's too cold out.
It's going to be snowy and icy tomorrow, which means that, undoubtedly, I'll be up at 5, waiting to see what our school district decided to do, and then spending the next 2 hours fretting over the logistical nightmare that is dealing with winter weather. To further complicate things, I have a training class, on line, from 10-2 tomorrow. Where's the written training material that I need for the class? On my desk. At work. Arght.
G and I had a nice very low-key day relaxing today, as Hubby was at work, and let still I am feeling like I didn't do enough with him. I put so much pressure on myself to be this ideal mother and, no matter what I do, I have a tendency to view myself as falling short. I don't know why - G proudly told his father "we did pretty much nothing today!" and didn't seem unhappy about it, but I still feel like I let him down.
The fact that I'm feeling lazy because really, I'm sad (very sad) and probably depressed - and I just didn't want to do much. I know this - hence the guilt.
So yeah, I'm not exactly inspired to write anything awe-inspiring, because right now, I think I'm having a hard time even being mediocre.
It's going to be snowy and icy tomorrow, which means that, undoubtedly, I'll be up at 5, waiting to see what our school district decided to do, and then spending the next 2 hours fretting over the logistical nightmare that is dealing with winter weather. To further complicate things, I have a training class, on line, from 10-2 tomorrow. Where's the written training material that I need for the class? On my desk. At work. Arght.
G and I had a nice very low-key day relaxing today, as Hubby was at work, and let still I am feeling like I didn't do enough with him. I put so much pressure on myself to be this ideal mother and, no matter what I do, I have a tendency to view myself as falling short. I don't know why - G proudly told his father "we did pretty much nothing today!" and didn't seem unhappy about it, but I still feel like I let him down.
The fact that I'm feeling lazy because really, I'm sad (very sad) and probably depressed - and I just didn't want to do much. I know this - hence the guilt.
So yeah, I'm not exactly inspired to write anything awe-inspiring, because right now, I think I'm having a hard time even being mediocre.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
and some more lyrics
One of my friends and I were talking this evening about this and that and the new "Country Singer" movie (is that what it's called) came up? So she sent me this song...then apologized because, sometimes, things hit a little too close to home. Anyway, there was no need for her to apologize, I love these lyrics. Check them out - I mean, who can't relate to this sense of regret, sadness, what if...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paZVJBg1O9s
Words I Couldn't Say
In a book in a box in the closet
In a line in a song I once heard
In a moment on a front porch late one June
In a breath inside a whisper beneath the moon
There it was at the tip of my fingers
There it was on the tip of my tongue
There you were and I had never been that far
There it was the whole world wrapped inside my arms
And I let it all slip away
What do I do now that you're gone
No back up plan, no second chance
And no one else to blame
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn't say
There's a rain that'll never stop falling
There's a wall that I've tried to take down
What I should've said just wouldn't pass my lips
So I held back and now we've come to this
And it's too late now
What do I do now that you're gone
No back up plan, no second chance
And no one else to blame
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn't say
Are the words I couldn't say
I should have found a way to tell you how I felt
Now the only one I'm tellin' is myself
What do I do now that you're gone
No back up plan, no second chance
And no one else to blame
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn't say
What do I do, what do I say
And no else to blame
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn't say
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paZVJBg1O9s
Words I Couldn't Say
In a book in a box in the closet
In a line in a song I once heard
In a moment on a front porch late one June
In a breath inside a whisper beneath the moon
There it was at the tip of my fingers
There it was on the tip of my tongue
There you were and I had never been that far
There it was the whole world wrapped inside my arms
And I let it all slip away
What do I do now that you're gone
No back up plan, no second chance
And no one else to blame
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn't say
There's a rain that'll never stop falling
There's a wall that I've tried to take down
What I should've said just wouldn't pass my lips
So I held back and now we've come to this
And it's too late now
What do I do now that you're gone
No back up plan, no second chance
And no one else to blame
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn't say
Are the words I couldn't say
I should have found a way to tell you how I felt
Now the only one I'm tellin' is myself
What do I do now that you're gone
No back up plan, no second chance
And no one else to blame
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn't say
What do I do, what do I say
And no else to blame
All I can hear in the silence that remains
Are the words I couldn't say
newer stuff
I've been pretty busy with my crafting over the last couple of months and, I have to admit, it's been fun and really, really rewarding. I am to the point now where I'm wishing I had more time for it and, furthermore, I'd love to find a way to do it as a side business. But alas, I'm still pretty slow and I don't know where to start - although I may try. We'll see.
These are warm, cozy socks knitted on big needles. I made the first one about a year ago and my goal was to make the match this year (well, err...2010). I did it. My friend Jen liked the first one so much that I made them for her. Of course, they were for like a size 6 feet originally - hence the red toes!
This is a cute hat with a cabled band. I have been afraid of cables since I started knitting, but I had a pretty basic pattern in one of my magazines - so I thought I'd try it. The pattern was for a headband and, let's face it, I"m not a headband kind of a girl. So I made the headband and then knitted up to make the hat.
Mittens! In that same magazine (you'll note a pattern), they had basic mitten patterns. I gave it a whirl - love them. G is enjoying them (or at least enjoying modeling them - no clue where the heck they are now).
This is a modified version of the Burlington hat, which I made for my cousin Laura. She saw a pic of the original that I made for myself on Facebook and requested her own. This is so much fun - one of G's friend's moms wants one too - maybe next?
PILLOWS!!! We got a cheap couch for our finished basement a couple of years ago. It came with 4 hideously ugly ass pillows - so I set out to cover them. Two are quilted and two are knitting. I think I'm going to do the same for the pillows in our family room - they aren't ugly,, but they are nearly 10 years old and looking it.
A friend of mine from high school posted a message on Facebook back in late November, looking for recommendations for an Etsy site where the person could make long-cuffed mittens for a toddler. I told her I didn't know of a site but that I'd make them for her. At the time, she was 8+ months pregnant with her 2nd son and, around the time I finished the mittens, he was born - so I made him the hat. Infant hats are fun (and very gratifying - super quick)!
Friday, January 14, 2011
dear mean girl
Dear Mean Girl-
I know you left a threatening message - excuse me - two - meant for me on a social networking site this week. I am not friends with you there anymore because of your behavior on and off that site in the past.
It's not enough that you say nasty things to my face now. It's not enough that you have been a horrible, vindicitve bitch to me and people important to me.
Now you're leaving shit for me indirectly -through friends we have in common?
I know you're doing this. I know you know. And I know you're getting a kick out of it.
What you don't know is that this has been single-handedly one of the 10 most difficult weeks of my life. What you don't know is your words, which hurt me to my face and when I hear them 3rd hand, are another layer of pain in what's going on right now. Actually - I think you know that.
So thank you. Whatever it is you hoped to accomplish with this behavior over the last 2 years - you win. I give up. You are nastier and more vindictive than I could be if I wanted to and gave it my all. You proved your point to me.
Now please - I have things to deal with. Please - leave me alone.
I know you left a threatening message - excuse me - two - meant for me on a social networking site this week. I am not friends with you there anymore because of your behavior on and off that site in the past.
It's not enough that you say nasty things to my face now. It's not enough that you have been a horrible, vindicitve bitch to me and people important to me.
Now you're leaving shit for me indirectly -through friends we have in common?
I know you're doing this. I know you know. And I know you're getting a kick out of it.
What you don't know is that this has been single-handedly one of the 10 most difficult weeks of my life. What you don't know is your words, which hurt me to my face and when I hear them 3rd hand, are another layer of pain in what's going on right now. Actually - I think you know that.
So thank you. Whatever it is you hoped to accomplish with this behavior over the last 2 years - you win. I give up. You are nastier and more vindictive than I could be if I wanted to and gave it my all. You proved your point to me.
Now please - I have things to deal with. Please - leave me alone.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
I have a bit of an inspiration...
...and I'm not sure what to do with it.
As I elluded to in the last few posts - hell, probably in most of my posts - I'm having a bit of a crisis. Right now, it's come to a bit of a head, and I'm having a really rough time.
The thing is, this crisis is the result of basically my entire adulthood and, at the very least, the last decade of my life. During that time, I've had a very weird, somewhat coincidental and yet simultaneously star-crossed series of events occur in my life. Some have ultimately been under my control, but others have not.
They are all in my head and in my heart - and some of them are screaming and making me crazy.
The thing is, I've been reading a LOT lately. I read a lot anyway, but lately, it's been a good distraction. Plus, my someday maybe never sister-in-law gave me a bag of books at Christmas. And in reading, I realized something - something obvious but that struck me. A lot of books I really enjoy, and others seem to enjoy, don't have any special hook. Their just stories - stories you can relate to or understand or somehow parallel your own lives.
So I'm wondering, thinking, considering - writing a little fictionalized version of the last decade of my life.
A lot of people have complimented me on my writing, especially recently. I wonder if I could do it.
I wonder if doing it could clear my head and clarify how I feel and who I am, and rid me of a bit of this overwhelming and crushing angst.
I need something to help with that. Even therapy is only taking the edge off - and then barely.
As I elluded to in the last few posts - hell, probably in most of my posts - I'm having a bit of a crisis. Right now, it's come to a bit of a head, and I'm having a really rough time.
The thing is, this crisis is the result of basically my entire adulthood and, at the very least, the last decade of my life. During that time, I've had a very weird, somewhat coincidental and yet simultaneously star-crossed series of events occur in my life. Some have ultimately been under my control, but others have not.
They are all in my head and in my heart - and some of them are screaming and making me crazy.
The thing is, I've been reading a LOT lately. I read a lot anyway, but lately, it's been a good distraction. Plus, my someday maybe never sister-in-law gave me a bag of books at Christmas. And in reading, I realized something - something obvious but that struck me. A lot of books I really enjoy, and others seem to enjoy, don't have any special hook. Their just stories - stories you can relate to or understand or somehow parallel your own lives.
So I'm wondering, thinking, considering - writing a little fictionalized version of the last decade of my life.
A lot of people have complimented me on my writing, especially recently. I wonder if I could do it.
I wonder if doing it could clear my head and clarify how I feel and who I am, and rid me of a bit of this overwhelming and crushing angst.
I need something to help with that. Even therapy is only taking the edge off - and then barely.
a little levity
Today was another rough day, so it's time to finally re-write the funny exchange I had last week. Maybe it will make me smile although, considering the circumstances - unlikely.
-------
I was hanging out with a friend of mine a few days ago, having a conversation about basically nothing - or least nothing of any importance. It was a lowkey situation, we were having a cocktail and just relaxing, shooting the shit. Let's call this friend F for ease of use. At some point, F said a word - which I cannot recall any longer - that was not, in fact, a word. I must have made a face because he said...
"You and your Ivy League degree. That may not actually BE a word, but it SHOULD be."
I knew I was done for. This particular friend of mine likes to rant, and I just knew this was a topic he'd eat alive.
"Here's my thing about made-up words. Let's look back in history. Years and years ago, what was there for language?"
I wasn't sure if this was rhetorical or not, but let's face it, I'm a pain in the ass know-it-all, so I just had to answer...
"Latin?"
"Yes, LATIN. From Latin comes the romance languages and eventually English. Well, how the hell did we get to there? The same way I just came up with. We made shit up. Take mal - bad, mal, male - what's bad in Spanish? (I told him it was malo) - most of those look the same except bad - who came up with bad?"
At this point, the 2 glasses of wine I'd had were enough to get me smirking a bit, because I knew this was the beginning of some serious entertainment, inside of which was a fairly decent point.
"So when I want to make up a word - why can't I? I should sendto Webster. It is a GREAT word. What makes me any less equipped to make up a word than anyone else. Look at some new words. "Doh!" - from The Simpsons. The verbs friend or unfriend or de-friend or whatever - from Facebook. Didn't GWB make up "strategery" or some nonsense like that? The list is unending!
And if you really think about it, if you expand on this - remember Ebonics? The big controversy about Ebonics in the 80s. Why was that such a big deal? Wasn't it just another example of people taking an "established" language - I can't say the national language because we don't actually have one - and modifying it to fit their lives, their culture, their world? Why did everyone make such a big stink about that? People from the south, from Texas, even from Boston did something similar. I don't get it."
At that point, I was sitting there, mouth most likely drooping open, amazed. A random rambling diatribe, prompted by F being a silly spaz and making up a word that made perfect sense and in no way resembled an actual word, had hit the nail on the proverbial head.
---------
I must say, I embellished the story, but only slightly. I think F would approve.
-------
I was hanging out with a friend of mine a few days ago, having a conversation about basically nothing - or least nothing of any importance. It was a lowkey situation, we were having a cocktail and just relaxing, shooting the shit. Let's call this friend F for ease of use. At some point, F said a word - which I cannot recall any longer - that was not, in fact, a word. I must have made a face because he said...
"You and your Ivy League degree. That may not actually BE a word, but it SHOULD be."
I knew I was done for. This particular friend of mine likes to rant, and I just knew this was a topic he'd eat alive.
"Here's my thing about made-up words. Let's look back in history. Years and years ago, what was there for language?"
I wasn't sure if this was rhetorical or not, but let's face it, I'm a pain in the ass know-it-all, so I just had to answer...
"Latin?"
"Yes, LATIN. From Latin comes the romance languages and eventually English. Well, how the hell did we get to there? The same way I just came up with
At this point, the 2 glasses of wine I'd had were enough to get me smirking a bit, because I knew this was the beginning of some serious entertainment, inside of which was a fairly decent point.
"So when I want to make up a word - why can't I? I should send
And if you really think about it, if you expand on this - remember Ebonics? The big controversy about Ebonics in the 80s. Why was that such a big deal? Wasn't it just another example of people taking an "established" language - I can't say the national language because we don't actually have one - and modifying it to fit their lives, their culture, their world? Why did everyone make such a big stink about that? People from the south, from Texas, even from Boston did something similar. I don't get it."
At that point, I was sitting there, mouth most likely drooping open, amazed. A random rambling diatribe, prompted by F being a silly spaz and making up a word that made perfect sense and in no way resembled an actual word, had hit the nail on the proverbial head.
---------
I must say, I embellished the story, but only slightly. I think F would approve.
Monday, January 10, 2011
sorry
People throw the words "I'm sorry" around so much. This is actually one of my bigger pet peeves. Don't say sorry to me over crap. Don't say sorry to me because you think that's what you want me to hear. Most importantly, don't say sorry to me to excuse some shit that you've pulled, or to gloss over some nastiness you're going to say to me.
Because of this peeve of mine, I try very hard to not throw apologies around. I apologize because I need to - because I need forgiveness, because I know I've done something wrong.
I apologized today and, in an agonizing sort of way, the apology was flat-out rejected in favor of pure (although hopefully temporary) hatred.
I was, am, and will forever be sorry - not for what I feel or who I am, but for the fact that that reality - who I am - has caused such pain, has made such a huge mess. You see, I didn't exactly DO anything. I just AM something - someone. This has caused complication and confusion and now, more pain than I would wish to inflict on my worst enemy, let alone someone important to me.
I am hoping for forgiveness at some point. I'm hoping that all that pain, that is bringing such hatred to the surface, will start to subside, that there can be some closure, conclusion, resolution - and that with that, I can have some sort of healing.
In the meantime, this is my pain to carry - the pain I inflicted and the pain I'm receiving as the result of me being me. Alone.
Because of this peeve of mine, I try very hard to not throw apologies around. I apologize because I need to - because I need forgiveness, because I know I've done something wrong.
I apologized today and, in an agonizing sort of way, the apology was flat-out rejected in favor of pure (although hopefully temporary) hatred.
I was, am, and will forever be sorry - not for what I feel or who I am, but for the fact that that reality - who I am - has caused such pain, has made such a huge mess. You see, I didn't exactly DO anything. I just AM something - someone. This has caused complication and confusion and now, more pain than I would wish to inflict on my worst enemy, let alone someone important to me.
I am hoping for forgiveness at some point. I'm hoping that all that pain, that is bringing such hatred to the surface, will start to subside, that there can be some closure, conclusion, resolution - and that with that, I can have some sort of healing.
In the meantime, this is my pain to carry - the pain I inflicted and the pain I'm receiving as the result of me being me. Alone.
lyrics to sum up the day
Thanks to Jen for posting these, and for the Avett Brothers for crafting this song. This about sums up my day, my life, my mess right now.
-------------
Love writes a letter and sends it to hate.
My vacations ending. I'm coming home late.
The weather was fine and the ocean was great
and I can't wait to see you again.
Hate reads the letter and throws it away.
"No one here cares if you go or you stay.
I barely even noticed that you were away.
I'll see you or I won't, whatever."
Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.
And everyone knows it whenever she flies,
and also when she comes down.
Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.
Every stranger and drifter he greets.
And shakes hands with every loner he meets
with a serious look on his face.
Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.
Carrying with her the good things we know.
A reason to live and a reason to grow.
To trust. To hope. To care.
Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.
Without much regard to the moon or the stars.
Lazily killing the last of a jar
of the strongest stuff you can drink.
Love takes a taxi, a young man drives.
As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.
But tears follow after, at the end of the ride,
cause he might never see her again.
Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.
He screams o'er the sidewalk and into the drive.
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,
And the clock in the kitchen is slow.
Love has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,
That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.
Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.
He says "Love, I'm sorry", and she says, "What for?
I'm your and that's it, Whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I'm your's and that's it, forever."
You're mine and that's it, forever.
-------------
Love writes a letter and sends it to hate.
My vacations ending. I'm coming home late.
The weather was fine and the ocean was great
and I can't wait to see you again.
Hate reads the letter and throws it away.
"No one here cares if you go or you stay.
I barely even noticed that you were away.
I'll see you or I won't, whatever."
Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.
And everyone knows it whenever she flies,
and also when she comes down.
Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.
Every stranger and drifter he greets.
And shakes hands with every loner he meets
with a serious look on his face.
Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.
Carrying with her the good things we know.
A reason to live and a reason to grow.
To trust. To hope. To care.
Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.
Without much regard to the moon or the stars.
Lazily killing the last of a jar
of the strongest stuff you can drink.
Love takes a taxi, a young man drives.
As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.
But tears follow after, at the end of the ride,
cause he might never see her again.
Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.
He screams o'er the sidewalk and into the drive.
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,
And the clock in the kitchen is slow.
Love has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,
That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.
Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.
He says "Love, I'm sorry", and she says, "What for?
I'm your and that's it, Whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I'm your's and that's it, forever."
You're mine and that's it, forever.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
"if it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad"
I never used to believe in the concept of a mid-life crisis. It sounded like a cop-out, a good way to excuse shitty behavior around the age of 40.
Now that I am far too rapidly knocking on the door of age 40, what I realize that it may be exactly that for some. But for some - and at least for me - it has nothing to do with a cop-out and everything to do with completely freaking out at the idea of aging, growing old, dying. I don't think that the negative connotations with it are always without merit, because I think sometimes, that underlying fear, that deep scared feeling that runs through you when you start to ache in the mornings, when getting in shape seems like no small feat even if you used to be able to burn through a workout without blinking an eye - it can prompt you to act like a fool. Why no buy that sports car you've wanted since you got your license? You're not getting any younger and that money you're making is either going to buy it or pay for your kid's braces or put you in a home. The car is much better than any other option. You like that hot girl in the corner? Well...
Again - none of this is license for behaving poorly. Don't buy a sports car if you don't have the cash or if you have to cart around 2 car seats and a boatload of soccer equipment. Don't cheat on your spouse - there is this little thing known as divorce if you're that miserable.
But - and of course, isn't there always a "but" - it does make these poor choices slightly more understandable.
I don't think there's a person on this earth who wants to face his/her mortality. I know the concept of being dead is one of those things that races into mind occasionally, usually around 11:30pm on an idle Tuesday night when I'm already havinng trouble sleeping - and it scares the everliving shit out of me. I usually try to think about something nice - my happy place for obvious reasons is the beach - so as to shove those thoughts out of my consciousness (and hopefully my dreams).
And I think that "middle age" - mid 30s/early 40s - is when your mortality really becomes something present in your every day. For the first time in your life, you understand why your parents would walk around the house groaning in pain simply because they got out of bed, or how your father managed to throw his back out lifting the toilet seat, or why the obituaries are suddenly more interesting. It's frightening and it makes you think to yourself "This is MY life. What do I have to show for it? What have I done? What are all the things I want to do but haven't done - because I couldn't afford it, because there was always more time, because I was afraid? And - why the hell am I waiting to do them?"
I mention all this because I sit here on my couch knowing that when I stand up, there is a high likelihood that the tendon that holds my quad to my thigh bone will lock up and I will have to gimp my way to the bathroom. I never had a problem with this tendon in all my years of running yet last summer it just started bothering me one day (and I was on a mostly complete hiatus from running at the time). It hurt like hell for so long that I asked my orthopedic surgeon sister what was wrong, at which point she said it wasn't a bone issue and I was just old. Yes, she's younger than I am. Thanks sis.
My point is, for the first time in my life, I feel myself aging. 2 years ago, despite being *ahem* 35, I could delude myself and say i felt 22 - because aside from having a kid, I felt 22. I felt like I looked 22.
I no longer have such delusions. I feel old. I feel like I look old. I look in the "night cream" section at Walmart every time I'm there, hoping I can get enough moisture under my eyes to loosen up those quickly appearing bags without giving myself another fucking allergic reaction. My stupid period is irregular (I know, TMI) despite being on the Pill. I find myself watching what I eat not only to stay thin but also because there's just some food that I cannot eat anymore. I eat Tums and now Papaya Enzyme by the handful. I've become an old fogey.
And with this aging, I've been doing a lot of self-reflection. I am a self-motivated planner, a perfectionist, and I'm also very easily scared. With a few notable exceptions (some of which I'm proud of and others which make me want to hide my head in a paper bag permanently), I don't take risks. At all. This has made me a bit stifled in my life. I took the tried and true path, the expected way - and for a long time, it felt right, like it was the path made for me.
But now that I feel myself on the other side of the hill of life...I'm not so sure it was.
I'm not miserable. But I have had this sense of restlessness for about a decade now - a feeling I've largely tried to ignore, with varying degrees of success and failure, since I first noticed it. I kept thinking that it was just human nature, to wonder "what if", to think you made some shitty choices or not the right ones.
Now I'm not so sure. And that scares me. But I think beyond that, it makes me realize what a midlife crisis is, why it's so inherently human to have one, and why I find myself most likely smack dab in the middle of one.
My goal is to not act like a complete ass because of it. I admit, I did cut about 4 inches off my hair last week in a very (for me) knee-jerk decision. I've done a few other boneheaded things, like drinking slightly too much at a work function, recently. But for the most part, I'm trying to take this crisis and make it productive.
It hasn't been easy, and I don't think it will continue to be. It's been a weird and challenging couple of months and if the last few days are any indication, I have a lot more self-reflection to do, and maybe more changes to make.
The irony of a midlife crisis is when it occurs - in the middle of your LIFE. duh, right?? But the ironic part is that the very reason it occurs - because you're getting older and seeing yourself as a fully formed person - is also part of the reason it's so complicated. In the middle of your life, you're often dealing with kids who are no longer babies, and parents who aren't getting any younger. Your life is a series of responsibilities - parenting, helping your parents, working, being a productive member of society - and here you are, in dire need of paying some attention to yourself.
I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to balance that. I take every role in my life very seriously - I don't know how to give the role of being Andrea enough serious attention to get rid of this restlessness, to make sure that the second half of my life I will feel less like I did the "expected right thing" to everyone else, and more like I did the very right thing for ME. For ANDREA.
After all - it's MY life. Shouldn't I be living it for me?
I wish - I wish - it were that damn simple.
Now that I am far too rapidly knocking on the door of age 40, what I realize that it may be exactly that for some. But for some - and at least for me - it has nothing to do with a cop-out and everything to do with completely freaking out at the idea of aging, growing old, dying. I don't think that the negative connotations with it are always without merit, because I think sometimes, that underlying fear, that deep scared feeling that runs through you when you start to ache in the mornings, when getting in shape seems like no small feat even if you used to be able to burn through a workout without blinking an eye - it can prompt you to act like a fool. Why no buy that sports car you've wanted since you got your license? You're not getting any younger and that money you're making is either going to buy it or pay for your kid's braces or put you in a home. The car is much better than any other option. You like that hot girl in the corner? Well...
Again - none of this is license for behaving poorly. Don't buy a sports car if you don't have the cash or if you have to cart around 2 car seats and a boatload of soccer equipment. Don't cheat on your spouse - there is this little thing known as divorce if you're that miserable.
But - and of course, isn't there always a "but" - it does make these poor choices slightly more understandable.
I don't think there's a person on this earth who wants to face his/her mortality. I know the concept of being dead is one of those things that races into mind occasionally, usually around 11:30pm on an idle Tuesday night when I'm already havinng trouble sleeping - and it scares the everliving shit out of me. I usually try to think about something nice - my happy place for obvious reasons is the beach - so as to shove those thoughts out of my consciousness (and hopefully my dreams).
And I think that "middle age" - mid 30s/early 40s - is when your mortality really becomes something present in your every day. For the first time in your life, you understand why your parents would walk around the house groaning in pain simply because they got out of bed, or how your father managed to throw his back out lifting the toilet seat, or why the obituaries are suddenly more interesting. It's frightening and it makes you think to yourself "This is MY life. What do I have to show for it? What have I done? What are all the things I want to do but haven't done - because I couldn't afford it, because there was always more time, because I was afraid? And - why the hell am I waiting to do them?"
I mention all this because I sit here on my couch knowing that when I stand up, there is a high likelihood that the tendon that holds my quad to my thigh bone will lock up and I will have to gimp my way to the bathroom. I never had a problem with this tendon in all my years of running yet last summer it just started bothering me one day (and I was on a mostly complete hiatus from running at the time). It hurt like hell for so long that I asked my orthopedic surgeon sister what was wrong, at which point she said it wasn't a bone issue and I was just old. Yes, she's younger than I am. Thanks sis.
My point is, for the first time in my life, I feel myself aging. 2 years ago, despite being *ahem* 35, I could delude myself and say i felt 22 - because aside from having a kid, I felt 22. I felt like I looked 22.
I no longer have such delusions. I feel old. I feel like I look old. I look in the "night cream" section at Walmart every time I'm there, hoping I can get enough moisture under my eyes to loosen up those quickly appearing bags without giving myself another fucking allergic reaction. My stupid period is irregular (I know, TMI) despite being on the Pill. I find myself watching what I eat not only to stay thin but also because there's just some food that I cannot eat anymore. I eat Tums and now Papaya Enzyme by the handful. I've become an old fogey.
And with this aging, I've been doing a lot of self-reflection. I am a self-motivated planner, a perfectionist, and I'm also very easily scared. With a few notable exceptions (some of which I'm proud of and others which make me want to hide my head in a paper bag permanently), I don't take risks. At all. This has made me a bit stifled in my life. I took the tried and true path, the expected way - and for a long time, it felt right, like it was the path made for me.
But now that I feel myself on the other side of the hill of life...I'm not so sure it was.
I'm not miserable. But I have had this sense of restlessness for about a decade now - a feeling I've largely tried to ignore, with varying degrees of success and failure, since I first noticed it. I kept thinking that it was just human nature, to wonder "what if", to think you made some shitty choices or not the right ones.
Now I'm not so sure. And that scares me. But I think beyond that, it makes me realize what a midlife crisis is, why it's so inherently human to have one, and why I find myself most likely smack dab in the middle of one.
My goal is to not act like a complete ass because of it. I admit, I did cut about 4 inches off my hair last week in a very (for me) knee-jerk decision. I've done a few other boneheaded things, like drinking slightly too much at a work function, recently. But for the most part, I'm trying to take this crisis and make it productive.
It hasn't been easy, and I don't think it will continue to be. It's been a weird and challenging couple of months and if the last few days are any indication, I have a lot more self-reflection to do, and maybe more changes to make.
The irony of a midlife crisis is when it occurs - in the middle of your LIFE. duh, right?? But the ironic part is that the very reason it occurs - because you're getting older and seeing yourself as a fully formed person - is also part of the reason it's so complicated. In the middle of your life, you're often dealing with kids who are no longer babies, and parents who aren't getting any younger. Your life is a series of responsibilities - parenting, helping your parents, working, being a productive member of society - and here you are, in dire need of paying some attention to yourself.
I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to balance that. I take every role in my life very seriously - I don't know how to give the role of being Andrea enough serious attention to get rid of this restlessness, to make sure that the second half of my life I will feel less like I did the "expected right thing" to everyone else, and more like I did the very right thing for ME. For ANDREA.
After all - it's MY life. Shouldn't I be living it for me?
I wish - I wish - it were that damn simple.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
just really?
Listening to Anna Nalick's "Breathe" - love this lyric "Life's like an hourglass glued to the table.." Damnit, she's right.
In any event - later I'm going to rewrite the anecdote/true story with embellishments that I had actually completed last night when my internet decided to do its momentary disconnect thing and somehow blew away not only my request to publish my post but also all drafts it had saved less the first one. Curses - fucking technology, I realize it's what keeps me gainfully employed but it sucks ass sometimes.
I need to be simultaneously a Mama Bear and slightly philosophical right now.
I made the mistake of reading something today on a public debate forum that I lurk on about only children. Oh yes, you read right - the big "only children are destined to be spoiled brats" bullshit stereotype perpetuated by the ignorant. It got me all fired up and I've been stewing about it for the last 1/2 hour.
Let's lay out the facts first.
I have an only child.
I am the child of an only child.
My husband is the child of an only child.
Neither Hubby or I are only children.
Our only child is an only child really mostly by my choice but really because, with the tenuous threads that hold our marriage together, it was really just the right decision.
Having an only child wasn't (see above) what we planned (2 kids 2 years apart - dear god that sounds disturbing now that I've done this parenting gig for nearly 9 years). But you know what - life fucking happens.
Having said that - because I am an OCD over-thinker, over-planner, worry wart, I have read every damn piece of writing I can find on only children. I am paranoid - as I suppose most parents are but sometimes I wonder - of every decision and action I do as a parent, and of course the creation of, or failure to create, siblings weighs somewhat heavily on me.
What I've found is encouraging and, moreover, in the case of our family, seems to make perfect sense.
The vast majority of birth order studies have found a very close parallel between the underlying traits of only children and oldest children. It was the original researcher - Adler, a Jung/Freud contemporary (i.e. a LONG time ago) that suggested that only children are "extremely self-centered" and "spoiled". See the links below, but current studies have really debunked the extremity of his opinions were just that - extremes only.
Let's face it - there's something to be said for birth order. Can only children be spoiled? Yep. Is there a greater likelihood that they will be spoiled? Logic would say of course - the parents have the time, the means, and there are no other children at which to direct the spoiling.
Logically - I get that. But there is one thing to saying that it may be more likely and making statements like "I would never have an only child because I don't want my kid to be a spoiled brat."
That's just ignorant.
We parent as we choose. We can parent a kind, considerate and unspoiled only child. We can parent 3 spoiled children. We can raise our 1 or 2 or 5 or 13 children to the best of our ability.
It just gets to me sometimes. Maybe it's partly because I felt some guilt about not "giving" G a sibling for a long time. Maybe it's because I felt like there was something wrong with me as a woman, as a mother, for never having a baby urge after G came into my life. Maybe it's my wondering if I'd just gotten that damn PPD treated before G was 14 months old - then maybe I'd feel differently.
But whatever the reason, or reasons, this is where we are. My job as G's mom is to be the best parent I can be TO HIM. And damnit, I'm doing my best - hell I'm probably overcompensating - to do anything but turn him into a spoiled brat.
I realize I take things too personally and I realize that this impacts me way more than it should. But I read stuff like that online, statements made by parents who didn't seem to have the hesitation I did to having another child after their first was born, and it somehow makes me feel abnormal and grossly inadequate.
I do what I can now to turn it inside out. I may dwell for a bit, or come in here and bitch - or both - but I really try to not let it get me down or question myself.
This is the decision we've made. Despite my strength in multi-tasking, I find parenting difficult - and I find parenting 1 child less overwhelming than I would two. I love my one child. I love that he uses words like "stifled' and "appropriate" and "considering the circumstances" at 8 years old. I love that he's good with younger children and has friends 2 to 4 years older than him. I love that he is eager to please and enjoys school. I love that he is flawed just like the rest of us - with my bad temper and his father's often ill-placed goofiness. I love that he is more socially adept at 8 than I'll ever be. I love that he wants to help and share his toys with his friends and give gifts to people "just because".
I could dwell in my failure as a mother, to provide him this gift of a sibling or to be the mother to him and some other unnamed, unformed, unknown child in addition to him. But at what cost? I'd way rather take that negative energy and turn it into a positive - help him build life-long relationships that will insulate him from that loneliness that some people seem to think is unique to only children (although it's a pretty frequent visitor to this oldest of 3 children), get myself fiscally prepared so he will never EVER have to worry about being my financial caretaker. I'm going to be the best damn mother to 1 kid that I can be.
http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/01/29/whats-wrong-with-having-one-child/
http://faculty.mckendree.edu/scholars/2001/schilling.htm
In any event - later I'm going to rewrite the anecdote/true story with embellishments that I had actually completed last night when my internet decided to do its momentary disconnect thing and somehow blew away not only my request to publish my post but also all drafts it had saved less the first one. Curses - fucking technology, I realize it's what keeps me gainfully employed but it sucks ass sometimes.
I need to be simultaneously a Mama Bear and slightly philosophical right now.
I made the mistake of reading something today on a public debate forum that I lurk on about only children. Oh yes, you read right - the big "only children are destined to be spoiled brats" bullshit stereotype perpetuated by the ignorant. It got me all fired up and I've been stewing about it for the last 1/2 hour.
Let's lay out the facts first.
I have an only child.
I am the child of an only child.
My husband is the child of an only child.
Neither Hubby or I are only children.
Our only child is an only child really mostly by my choice but really because, with the tenuous threads that hold our marriage together, it was really just the right decision.
Having an only child wasn't (see above) what we planned (2 kids 2 years apart - dear god that sounds disturbing now that I've done this parenting gig for nearly 9 years). But you know what - life fucking happens.
Having said that - because I am an OCD over-thinker, over-planner, worry wart, I have read every damn piece of writing I can find on only children. I am paranoid - as I suppose most parents are but sometimes I wonder - of every decision and action I do as a parent, and of course the creation of, or failure to create, siblings weighs somewhat heavily on me.
What I've found is encouraging and, moreover, in the case of our family, seems to make perfect sense.
The vast majority of birth order studies have found a very close parallel between the underlying traits of only children and oldest children. It was the original researcher - Adler, a Jung/Freud contemporary (i.e. a LONG time ago) that suggested that only children are "extremely self-centered" and "spoiled". See the links below, but current studies have really debunked the extremity of his opinions were just that - extremes only.
Let's face it - there's something to be said for birth order. Can only children be spoiled? Yep. Is there a greater likelihood that they will be spoiled? Logic would say of course - the parents have the time, the means, and there are no other children at which to direct the spoiling.
Logically - I get that. But there is one thing to saying that it may be more likely and making statements like "I would never have an only child because I don't want my kid to be a spoiled brat."
That's just ignorant.
We parent as we choose. We can parent a kind, considerate and unspoiled only child. We can parent 3 spoiled children. We can raise our 1 or 2 or 5 or 13 children to the best of our ability.
It just gets to me sometimes. Maybe it's partly because I felt some guilt about not "giving" G a sibling for a long time. Maybe it's because I felt like there was something wrong with me as a woman, as a mother, for never having a baby urge after G came into my life. Maybe it's my wondering if I'd just gotten that damn PPD treated before G was 14 months old - then maybe I'd feel differently.
But whatever the reason, or reasons, this is where we are. My job as G's mom is to be the best parent I can be TO HIM. And damnit, I'm doing my best - hell I'm probably overcompensating - to do anything but turn him into a spoiled brat.
I realize I take things too personally and I realize that this impacts me way more than it should. But I read stuff like that online, statements made by parents who didn't seem to have the hesitation I did to having another child after their first was born, and it somehow makes me feel abnormal and grossly inadequate.
I do what I can now to turn it inside out. I may dwell for a bit, or come in here and bitch - or both - but I really try to not let it get me down or question myself.
This is the decision we've made. Despite my strength in multi-tasking, I find parenting difficult - and I find parenting 1 child less overwhelming than I would two. I love my one child. I love that he uses words like "stifled' and "appropriate" and "considering the circumstances" at 8 years old. I love that he's good with younger children and has friends 2 to 4 years older than him. I love that he is eager to please and enjoys school. I love that he is flawed just like the rest of us - with my bad temper and his father's often ill-placed goofiness. I love that he is more socially adept at 8 than I'll ever be. I love that he wants to help and share his toys with his friends and give gifts to people "just because".
I could dwell in my failure as a mother, to provide him this gift of a sibling or to be the mother to him and some other unnamed, unformed, unknown child in addition to him. But at what cost? I'd way rather take that negative energy and turn it into a positive - help him build life-long relationships that will insulate him from that loneliness that some people seem to think is unique to only children (although it's a pretty frequent visitor to this oldest of 3 children), get myself fiscally prepared so he will never EVER have to worry about being my financial caretaker. I'm going to be the best damn mother to 1 kid that I can be.
http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/01/29/whats-wrong-with-having-one-child/
http://faculty.mckendree.edu/scholars/2001/schilling.htm
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
the mystery of the new maybe no longer non-word
OMG THIS WAS A HUGE POST AND BLOGGER ATE MOST OF IT!!!
I am too tired to write it again tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Damnit! CURSES!!
In my last post, I used the word "freneticness", which I don't really think is a word but seemed to fit...
That non-word use, combined with a rather amusing, maybe one-too-many drinks at a work event conversation I had with a good friend / co-worker last night together have inspired this slightly nonsensical, definitely tongue in cheek post.
Many thanks in advance to said friend for the inspiration. LOL.
--------
How about "text" as a verb? Or "friend" as a verb?
Strategery? freneticness? LOLing?
I am too tired to write it again tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Damnit! CURSES!!
In my last post, I used the word "freneticness", which I don't really think is a word but seemed to fit...
That non-word use, combined with a rather amusing, maybe one-too-many drinks at a work event conversation I had with a good friend / co-worker last night together have inspired this slightly nonsensical, definitely tongue in cheek post.
Many thanks in advance to said friend for the inspiration. LOL.
--------
How about "text" as a verb? Or "friend" as a verb?
Strategery? freneticness? LOLing?
another year already
Damn. 2011. How the hell did that happen? I remember - nearly 10 years ago - peeing on an EPT stick (and really - it wasn't "early" in any sense of the word), seeing the giant "+" sign pop up, and musing that, by 2012, I'd be the mother of a 10 year old. I was facing 9 months of pregnancy first, which seemed like a long time...so the notion of 2012 seemed, well, far away.
Yet it's almost here now. My son will be 9 in 4 months. 9. Got that? 9.
Now that we're past the doldrums that are the holidays, everyone is thoroughly indulged and I'm back to the usual hectiness of life - rather than the holiday freneticness (is that a word??? more on THAT later) - it's time to get back on the damn exercise saddle.
*** DISCLAIMER ***
I am not going back to the gym as a New Year's resolution. I am not one for New Year's resolutions. I lost sight of my regular gym routine early last fall. Too busy at work, too busy at home, blah blah blah real reason, too lazy and feeling like an old fogey. Trying to go to the gym during the holidays is an exercise in futility. There's a party or a gathering or something every night. So the next option - join the masses of totally irritating people who will go to the gym starting Jan 3rd (and taper off sometime around Jan 17th). I need to do this NOW because I start a new BIG project at work very soon and, once that project ramps up (love the IT jargon?!?!), if I do not have a well-established schedule and routine, I will be back to square zero of working until 6pm every night.
Of course, I had a work gathering / sales kick-off meeting last night, so that was out. SIGH.
Anyway, I know me. I know I need a purpose, a goal - so my plan is to run a 5K. With G. In April. I do.not.want.to.look.like.an.ass. As a 17 year old, I could run a half mile in 2:23, a two mile in under 14 minutes, a 4K in 17 min on a hilly course. While those days are WAY LONG OVER, I will not walk one foot of that 5K and I will not run that 5K in 50 minutes.
With my almost 9 year old in tow, though, a goal of 30-ish minutes would be good.
Now - I went to the gym today, tired from being out TOO LATE last night, with the goal of actually being able to run for more than 10 minutes.
I made it 21 and 2 miles. YUCK!
Here's the issue - that 17 year old and her kick-ass, state open times - yeah, she's there, in her size 1 jeans, teasing me. I keep telling her that I'm an old 37 year old fart who will NEVER and I mean NEVER run a 4K in 17 minutes again.
But 27 minutes would be nice.
So I'm back writing here and back journaling my runs in Daily Mile with the hope that this will keep me honest, keep me motivated and maybe, just maybe, I can see some actual progress. After all, it was only 3 years ago when I was going to the gym 3-4 days a week, had energy on a regular basis, and flattened out (mostly) my several years post-baby gut...I'm not that much older - RIGHT???
Yet it's almost here now. My son will be 9 in 4 months. 9. Got that? 9.
Now that we're past the doldrums that are the holidays, everyone is thoroughly indulged and I'm back to the usual hectiness of life - rather than the holiday freneticness (is that a word??? more on THAT later) - it's time to get back on the damn exercise saddle.
*** DISCLAIMER ***
I am not going back to the gym as a New Year's resolution. I am not one for New Year's resolutions. I lost sight of my regular gym routine early last fall. Too busy at work, too busy at home, blah blah blah real reason, too lazy and feeling like an old fogey. Trying to go to the gym during the holidays is an exercise in futility. There's a party or a gathering or something every night. So the next option - join the masses of totally irritating people who will go to the gym starting Jan 3rd (and taper off sometime around Jan 17th). I need to do this NOW because I start a new BIG project at work very soon and, once that project ramps up (love the IT jargon?!?!), if I do not have a well-established schedule and routine, I will be back to square zero of working until 6pm every night.
Of course, I had a work gathering / sales kick-off meeting last night, so that was out. SIGH.
Anyway, I know me. I know I need a purpose, a goal - so my plan is to run a 5K. With G. In April. I do.not.want.to.look.like.an.ass. As a 17 year old, I could run a half mile in 2:23, a two mile in under 14 minutes, a 4K in 17 min on a hilly course. While those days are WAY LONG OVER, I will not walk one foot of that 5K and I will not run that 5K in 50 minutes.
With my almost 9 year old in tow, though, a goal of 30-ish minutes would be good.
Now - I went to the gym today, tired from being out TOO LATE last night, with the goal of actually being able to run for more than 10 minutes.
I made it 21 and 2 miles. YUCK!
Here's the issue - that 17 year old and her kick-ass, state open times - yeah, she's there, in her size 1 jeans, teasing me. I keep telling her that I'm an old 37 year old fart who will NEVER and I mean NEVER run a 4K in 17 minutes again.
But 27 minutes would be nice.
So I'm back writing here and back journaling my runs in Daily Mile with the hope that this will keep me honest, keep me motivated and maybe, just maybe, I can see some actual progress. After all, it was only 3 years ago when I was going to the gym 3-4 days a week, had energy on a regular basis, and flattened out (mostly) my several years post-baby gut...I'm not that much older - RIGHT???
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