Sisterhood

I've never understood the appeal of girl friends. Or well to be more blunt, I'm weary of women. I internalized that message that every woman is someone to compete against because you need to be prettier, sexier, smarter, and better than them if you are to have any value or more specifically, attract a man and my role as a woman is to attract a man and thus beat other women. I know. It's fucked up. It flies in the face of every feminist ideal I believe in. But there it is, even I am not immune to the power of influence.

To this point I have had cracks in my hesitation to trust other women. A few women, always beautiful women, have snuck in behind the armor. I have amazingly beautiful women as friends, much much much prettier than me. More spunky. More intelligent. More lively. The women that I've chosen to call my friends and trust, well they are great women. And in some ways I pale in front of them. Or my internal voice tells me that I pale in front of them. I'm sure I don't. I'm sure each would tell you what they value in me. And I would even go so far as to say that none of them are friends with me because I'm uglier, less spunky, less intelligent, or less lively then them. Fun how that works.

Tonight I found myself in a group of women 20 years older than me and the sisterhood of women hit me ... hard. I saw that women are not my enemy and not my person to compete against. That we are each beautifully flawed in our own way. That we have much to learn from one another. You would think it would be weird sitting in a room with women my mother's age but it wasn't. Perhaps it's all I'm going through right now. Thankfully my circle of friends are married, most with children and though they struggle too, for the most part they are finding their way. To fast forward 20 years you have a group of women who have lost children, lost marriages, lost careers, and lost themselves in a way. It is a gift to be able to sit in front of them and relate.

I found myself sharing that I'd moved out of my home 2 weeks ago. That I'm divorcing my husband. That I've only been a mom for a year and a half. That I relate to the world through the blogs I keep. That I miss my uncle (my de facto father) more now than I think I ever have because even though my mother and grandmother are resilient and supportive, they aren't the man. The shining beacon that comes in and saves you. But maybe that's the point.

Feminism is not about tearing down men. It's about tearing down expectations of men and women. My expectation has always been that a man would save me - my uncle, my boyfriends, my bosses, my husband. But they didn't. And in the background, the whole time was this band of women who watched expectingly, knowing that the men in my life wouldn't be able to save me, knowing that in the end, other women would. I felt that in the room today. I constantly forget that right now is not how it has always been and not how it will always be. This addition of women to the pack remind me further that the path is long and some how you get down it.

The "leader" of the group said today that you need people to remind us that even in the darkness there is light. We are all on a journey to somewhere and we all lose the light every now and then. We need people to show us our gifts, to remind us of who we are when we can't see clearly. I didn't realize how much I longed for the sisterhood more than I did tonight.

First Night

It's weird. I've avoided moving all week but it's time now and there were no more excuses. My son is with his grandma as I have to work tomorrow AM and it's quiet. Nothing is familiar. It doesn't even smell like my house. I had to buy new hand soap today. And make my new queen size bed. Thinking about where I'm going to put the trash can and the cat food. It's all surreal.

I wish I could pinpoint the emotions. I looked at the air conditioning as I watched my first tv show in the new place. I thought, "I'll be here for the summer." That's weird. The summer. That's in the future. Wow. This is real. I filled up my CPAP machine tonight, typically a task the ex would do. It was weird as I decided to store the water in the bedroom here. I didn't have to tell anyone. I realized I didn't have an alarm clock. How was I going to wake up in the morning? Thank God for my iphone. I took a bath because I forgot to by a curtain rod. It was smaller than my tub. I guess this is the new tub now.

I don't think I feel overwhelming sadness. It's more hmmm, ok. I guess this is the way it is now. I remember feeling this way before when I lived briefly on my own. It was a hmmm, ok this is weird feeling. I feel the need to run out and find a new boyfriend to live with me. A distraction. An unneeded distraction. Maybe I should be able to come home and feel "ah, home." I wonder if I'll ever feel that.

It's interesting to me the concept of home. I've never. ...yup, never, settled into a place that I lived. You know unpack the boxes, hang the pictures, make your space reflect you. Never. I do it half ass. Even in my house that we bought and were going to live in forever, I didn't settle. Looking back I wonder if my subconscious was telling me something even then. But for the first time I want to now. I need to now. I need to have a place that is safe. That I can see a reflection of me.

I panicked in looking at a couch today. I panic a lot. I hyper ventilate. I can't make a decision. I'm afraid of making the wrong decision. I know that's normal, fear of making the wrong decision. But since when did buy a couch involve a wrong decision? I used to have and still do have panic attacks at the grocery store. I'm overwhelmed, incapable of deciding what to eat. Even with a list. I think the list is wrong. And I search my brain thinking I had to have forgotten something from the list. I had to have. And I stand there, paralyzed. That's not normal. Perhaps needless to say I didn't buy a couch. I did see two couches I liked under $300. I could probably swing it. But did I buy it no. What if I bought the wrong couch?

I don't have anything to hide behind any more. I am living away from my house that I bought. The illusion is now shattered. And I can't figure out how to buy a couch. So what will I do? I'll go to my friends and say 'hey, help me buy a couch.' They will be there. They will help me not get stuck for too long.

I wrote awhile back that no one ever wants to come in and take over your life when you can't make a decision to save your life. They don't want to get involved when you are depressed and sinking. It's too messy. But I was wrong. People do help you. People do become your think tank. The right people. I've had some right people take over my to-do list, my long-term goal list, my decorating list, my health routine, my eating routine, my packing committee, my moving team. People have saved me from my self. I am grateful. The universe gives you the people that you need at the time that you need them. And that's what I'm thinking about this first night in my queen size bed.

Because although I'm scared and overwhelmed and excited and cautious and healing, I know that there is a group of people whether visible or not who will ensure that I don't drown. I may fling my arms and swallow some sea water but in the end there will be an arm to grab me from the storm.

What a first night.

So we meet again

I moved today. I packed up my half of the marital assets and moved to a two bedroom "garden" level apartment with a remodeled kitchen and hard wood floors. It took about 90 minutes from first load to last unload. Did I not take enough? I don't know. I mean maybe not. I would think that I would have more but then I remember that we live a rather simple lifestyle to begin with.

I'm not sleeping there yet. I don't have a bed. I don't know part of me is doing this slowly for a reason. I haven't lived alone .... ever. I mean there was a few months in LA but I was too busy dating the ex ex to really ever move in. Or and there were a few months in San Rafael in that attic apartment across the hall from the girl that dated Bill Graham's son. But that's it. So now well, I'm going to be living alone, with a little boy 50% of the time. Wow.

I've avoided writing. I've been avoiding a lot of things. My emotions are all over the place. I spent a day not eating and losing my mind. I deleted my FB account, I pushed people away that didn't deserve to be pushed. I found every crack in my ex's armor and exploited it. He did the same thing. I refused to take my medication. I refused to do anything except lay there and sleep. It was official bottom.

To write about the bottom is close to impossible. it's irrational and crazy. but it was bound to happen. every situation eventually reaches it's pinnacle of worseness or greatness, then you move on.

so now we meet again on the other side of bottom. i'm terrified of actually leaving the house. to make myself feel safe in another new place. what will happen? i don't know. i will rely upon the people that i've desperately tried to push out of my life and learn how to be on my own again. someone said to me that there is beauty in showing your weakness. that it is nothing to be ashamed of. i don't know if i believe them.

but today driving with my mom to and from my new apartment i was reminded of something my grandma said this week as they packed up my possessions. She said, "you will be ok baby and you will build a new life." tears came to my eyes as i thought of that moment today. my family is a family of survivors. women survivors who for one reason or another have had to pick up the pieces a thousand times over and survive. it builds resiliency in your bones. so i will spend 3 days saying good bye to this house, and starting to build another home. boy.

Dear World...

Note: This is an exercise. The emotions are true and real. But I'm not stupid, just depressed.

To the world you may be one person,
but to one person you may be the world.

I'm ready to leave now. I am ready to stop struggling. I am ready to not have to do or say anything. I've flirted with the darkness of my despair many many times. this isn't my first time at the rodeo so to speak.

but now there is my son. my son. my son. my son is stopping me from losing myself completely. only my son stops me from running away. from turning into a drug addict. from living underneath an overpass turning tricks so i can get my next fix. it's only him. otherwise fuck it. what is the point. and the honest answer is there is none. i have no higher calling. i have no purpose in life except to serve as a "what not to do." that's my role.

every day i am struggling to take the next breathe. i am struggling to find my balance. every day i am hurting more and more. every friend has their own life. their own set of worries. their own joy to experience. who would drop everything and help me learn to walk again. no one. i have spent the last 2 weeks in a state of shock, devastation pulsing through my veins. the finality of my decision reaching it's full impact. But yet who notices, I am a superb actress.

Then people ask me "are you ok?" ... no no not at all. I'M NOT FUCKING OK. Do I look like I'm ok? No. No, I don't. the puffy eyes, the shoting pains done my sides. my inability to breathe. the pounding of my head. I'm FUCKED UP. CAN YOU DEAL WITH THAT? ... of course that isn't what I say. Sometimes I say, "yeah". But sometimes I get enough courage to say "no." And with that the conversation is done. or I'm asked "what's wrong?" And there I'm stuck. how do you say .... my world is crumbling and I caused it. I am barely functioning. I can't handle this. I NEED you. .... you don't say that. I merely shrug and ask about them. The moment is forgot and off we go.

I get older and see myself becoming more and more of a shell. empty. alone. my demons so strong that I have indeed made my worse fears come true. There are no Knights of the Roundtable to rescue me. There is no Justice League.

When you are destroying yourself people let you because it's healthy to not overstep someone else's boundary, tell them that I am not going to let you destroy yourself and hate me all you want but I don't care. I love you and need you in my life so you hate me as long as you want, just do exactly as I tell you to do. It will be better. You will win. I promise. Then add to that that few people are strong enough to withstand the daggers of glass that spew out of me when someone tries to rescue me. And we have an almost impossible situation.

So what choice do I have ..... what choice ..... kill myself and destroy my son, my family. That's not an option. It's not a viable option. It's a selfish option. The biggest fuck you to the world is to believe that you mean absolutely nothing to the entire world. So much so that your presence, your life is no longer needed or wanted by anyone. And I can't do that. Because I know to my son I am the world.

But what do I? I can't hear that it will be ok. That in the end I will be better. I don't believe that right now. So much so that I can't put one foot forward because I see it as an exercise in futility. And I can't afford counseling. Plus I have done so much counseling in the past that I know the psycho babble crap that will be said to me. The drugs aren't working because I'm too stubborn to take them with regularity. God is sitting in the corner asking me what my choice is? So .... my only answer is. I don't know what to do. I don't know.

Perhaps it's a good thing the mike isn't on.

[caption id="attachment_700" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="do you have a facebook?"][/caption]

sometimes I really don't want a person's input on a situation. this is the danger of having facebook and a blog and email and a cell phone and text messaging as well as a telephone at home and at work. people can reach you and sometimes you don't want to be reached.

my status yesterday was that "x has nothing to say." well, we all know I most certainly always have a thought on my head. but 75% of the time I just don't feel like sharing. the other 25% I'm going to hop up and down on one leg to get someone to listen to me. but yesterday was not one of those days.

typically if I say something like that it means that i don't want to talk about it. i'm feeling emotional, overwhelmed, yada yada. so it's my way of saying .... i'm here and listening but frankly just let me listen to you for awhile. please. don't ask.

here's the grub. not every one of my "friends" on facebook is a REAL friend friend. do i know them, of course, at some point in my life. but most of my "friends" don't get access. it's just the truth. god could you imagine the emotional reck I would be if I gave total access to each person I interact with in the world? shudder!

so a few people yesterday were like "get over it." or some version of crap like that. And I'm like fuck you. ok, i admit this reaction DEFINITELY had to do with the fact that i didn't want anyone to fuck with me .... only child. only child. leave me alone. .... can I just have a sign?

I mean maybe my Facebook status should have been. "x wants you to leave her the fuck alone but in a nice way. I mean I like you and everything but frankly I don't really give a shit as to your opinion. ok? are we good?"

could you imagine the comments on that status? LOL. and just in case you were wondering I have actually said some variation of that to people in real life. wow! I'm a bitch!

Cloudy with a chance of neurosis

Five days is a long time to not say anything. I don't have an explanation of why. Avoidance is the most likely reason. Uninspired is another. Well, uninspired is never the right word. Give me a blank page and I will give you plenty of words. Perhaps they will make sense and take me further down the road. More likely it is a rambling exploration of neurotic tendencies.

[caption id="attachment_693" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head. "][/caption]

At lunch today after church one of my friends was not his normal self. This guy is great, full of life, always with a quick joke and a story to tell. His is one of those stories that I wish the world could hear. But today he was off. Tilted. The facade dropped multiple times and I wonder what I can do. Not much.

I have another friend whose partner suddenly decided that they were done with the marriage and left. They were together for 10 years and married perhaps 9 months. I can't fathom the reasons why this could happen without explanation. But all I can think of is the facade traps us.

I don't know how often I have been criticized either behind my back or full on in my face about not having a facade. I laugh at them .... well, after I cry about it in the privacy of the bathroom. ... if only they knew that not having a facade is a facade. Does that make any sense? And I did warn you, there was a chance of neurosis in this post.

That lack of knowledge is what has thrown some people for a loop lately. I've been more me and less the facade. Some people are shaking their heads wondering where the hell this person came from. Where as others are laughing their asses off that I get flack about it at all because I was always like this with them. All I know is it's exhausting and I look forward to the time ahead where the facade will be almost non-existent.

[caption id="attachment_694" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The appearance of people is not always reality. "][/caption]

A semi-stranger said to me the other day that I complain too much where as my husband has more of this world-view, full of introspection. I just wanted to tell the person to fuck off you don't know me.  But then I've heard this before. I complain. I worry. I am a "half empty" person. He is not. God bless him but he is not me. And yes, it seems like I constantly kvetch about something but maybe it's because I need to get this shit out of my brain before I explode.

A few days later I proceeded to basically verbally vomit over a friend once they asked a simple - "how are you?" I trust this person so they get unfiltered me pretty much all the time. But then I feel bad. I shouldn't just unload all my thoughts with those I trust because I've been having conversation after conversation with the same question and unable to tell THOSE people what I really think.

So in response to THOSE people asking me "how are you? ...... the singing blue birds crap on my head while pumping Public Enemy through their boom boxes and that raccoon on my walk through the neighborhood told me to fuck off. Welcome to my world view. Word.

So ... comments? anyone? ... hello? is this mike on?

Perspective

Definitions:
1. the state of one's ideas, the facts known to one, etc., in having a meaningful interrelationship.
2. a way of regarding situations, facts, etc., and judging their relative importance

I have no way of writing on this without seeming narcissistic but what is one supposed to do. A blog by definition is a little ... mmm ... retrospective? So enough with the editing of myself.

Perspective is fascinating to me. We each have a unique one. Rarely do two people share the same one. Most interesting to me is when one's perspective of me collides with the perspective of myself. I always wonder which one is correct. I always wonder how there can be a difference.

As we all know, our family is getting a lot of attention right now. Not really me but us in general. A friend told me that I enjoy attention in general more than I'd like to admit to myself or others. And this took me down the rabbit hole as comments like this tend to. Now keep in mind, this person knows me fairly well.

The honest to God truth is that I don't seek public attention. I don't like to ever be up in front of a crowd of people fawning over me. I don't like awards and accolades. I would much rather be in the background. I would much rather allow someone else to shine. I would much rather someone give me praise and attention on a one-on-one basis.

It is illogical. I write this blog and our family blog, pouring myself out, exposing my emotions and myself to strangers. But in a way it is one-on-one. I'm not sitting in front of my computer with a dozen eyes on me, watching me do this, giving me feedback and praise (or criticism) while I write. It's private. The feedback is private. The attention is private.

So then how could our perspectives be so different. Why is there that split? It makes me feel as understanding someone is the most difficult thing in the entire planet. I think if I could have a gift, I'd have the gift of knowing everyone's perspective of me. (here's the narcissism) I think it would make me feel safe. Because then I would know or is there some other magic way that you learn someone's perspective of you? I know that seems like a stupid question but well, I don't know the answer.

I'm tired and going to sleep.

Just when you think

Some days I feel like no one will ever listen. No one ever hears me. Then I go and write something and I'm reminded that indeed people are listening.

I'm a loner. Lots of reasons why all going back to the whole trust and abandonment issues. I internalize and always believe  that my feelings and worries are not worth the time and attention of those that care for me. So what do I do - the healthy thing. I shrink away into some far off place and get pissed that no one noticed. Ah yes, neurosis at it's finest.

Then one of the loyals (those that have proven their friendship to me so many times that quite frankly they would rather puke then have to do it again) pops up and says, "hey what the hell are you doing? Stop the madness. Remember we covered this topic in 1998."

I shake from my internal world long enough to bask in the sunshine and realize that indeed I am not so bad. Today is not the day to wallow in some fabricated worried shit that I have made up any way.

The universe must have been listening because we had a beautiful, crisp fall day. I was grateful and found myself smiling at least once today.

[caption id="attachment_661" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Mountain view from my cell phone. Why don't I carry my camera with me all the time?"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_662" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The trees are almost done with the change. "][/caption]

I'm not going to talk about the crap shit that went on at work. Who wants to ruin an ok mood? I'll save it for another day.