It's been awhile. Too long, really. I am always thinking about the words in my head that want to find their way to paper (you know what I mean), but have been too ...I don't know. Stubborn? Prideful? Petulant? Lazy?? However you want to describe it, I have been too much of it to open this blog back up.
But here I am.
Today I said something really awful to a friend. It was the very worst kind of awful - the kind that leaves marks and hangs in the air with all of it's poison relentlessly oozing. Ugh.
I asked him why the terrible people in our world couldn't be the ones offing themselves instead of the talented, beautiful and beloved.
It was supposed to be a harmless musing out loud. It was not harmless.
I am glad that my friend knows my heart and can forgive my outrageousness (that isn't a word, by the way - but it should be).
Garage sales are so fascinating! It's like gambling (only most of the time it's cheaper) because you could come across a treasure...or not. I am safer than most from the siren call of the garage sale as I never carry cash (which is also a problem).
Today I stumbled across a garage sale in my own neighborhood. Actually, right across the street. Turns out the couple that has been living there for the past 25 years is moving. It seemed like a perfect opportunity to meet them as I had never seen them before. Not once in the last eight years that I have been here.
Anyway, as I moseyed my way through the piles of "stuff" they were hawking, l noticed that they had some interesting goblets here and there. One particular goblet looked like it was silver - tarnished, yes, but silver nonetheless. I brought it down off of it's perch to get a closer look, and quickly returned it as it felt too light to be the quality I hoped it was. And wouldn't you know? It fell off of the shelf and crashed to the ground in two pieces. Guh. The base had snapped right off of the stem.
I have never broken anything at a garage sale before, so I didn't know what protocol was. The neighbor hadn't seen it, and no one was around. So I left.
I went back to my house, got the two quarters that was the asking price, and returned to let the garage seller know what had happened. He didn't seem to care much - as was my anticipation. But if I had not paid for it (although I left it with him to dispose of), I would have been waiting for Karma's swift retribution my whole life. And I wasn't willing to go through that for a fake silver goblet.
Or anything else, really.
But, holy cats! My Twitter feed! It. Was. Infuriating.
So, I decided to take a look at who I was following - and who was following me. I guess I didn't know enough about what a good follower/followee relationship looked like when I started my tweeting...nor was there any rhyme or reason to who was included in my twits. I started hitting the unfollow button. And that brought me so much happiness that I kept hitting the unfollow button until there was nothing left but people I WANTED to follow (and who were following me)! My whole experience with this particular social media has just changed for the better. I know there is a life metaphor in there somewhere about how when we choose our companions well it makes our life happier...when I get it worded better I will be sure to tweet it!
Today was See You at the Pole day for my kids and their high school. Truly, I was impressed that they went - mostly because it entailed getting up and being to school even before the sun came up.
Both of the boys have been active with their youth group, our church and summer church camp for about a year, and all on their own accord! I am so grateful for that. They even have a school bible study that meets at lunch on Tuesdays. Now, I went to Christian schools when I was growing up - I don't think I had near as much God in my life as these boys do. They seem to be comfortable with their spirituality around their peers and adults alike.
But even in their cool Godliness, they are still teenaged boys. As my youngest was leaving for the school this morning I hollered,"Love you! See you at the flagpole!". Horrified, he stopped in his tracks to look back and ask, "Uh, you aren't coming, are you, Mom?"
Haha! I really did think about going after that. In my jammies.
To date, I have put 30K on my new little car in 10 months - somebody quick figure out my monthly average, but I'll estimate that it's pretty high what with all of the commuting for work and my long-distance relationship. And, oh yeah, the road trip we took to Yellowstone this summer.
A couple of weeks ago, the kids and I were "flying low" down the highway when I heard a terrible thump under the car, and saw something that looked like a rock careening down the lane behind me. Thinking I must have hit a dirt clod or something similar, I didn't take too much notice. Until oil started covering my back window. (Oil? How in the hell would oil get on my back window?) As my oil pressure lamp lit up and the oil pressure alarm sounded off (like this: DINGDINGGGDING!!!), I wobbled my way off of the highway to a gas station parking lot. Ugh.
The kids and I sat on the curb next to my little car, bewildered and waiting for roadside assistance. Believe it or not, I have never had to use roadside in my life. It's pretty easy, all in all. However, I was so shaky that my sons were dialing dueling phones for me while we arranged for rides, advice, etc.
The tow truck driver was a young kid, burly and earnest. As he jumped out of the truck, he let out a low whistle at the puddle of oil now staining the parking lot. "Threw a rod", he says, "Wow - that stinks". (What? What? WHAT?? I have thrown a rod in a vehicle before...it was my fault...I was waiting for the Change Your Oil light to come on. It never did come on. It was a 76 Toyota pickup that didn't even have a Check Your Rattling Engine light. I have been very good about oil ever since. I could not have thrown a rod in this little car.) "Would you mind looking at the hole in the pan, Sir, to see if the hole is coming out or going in? I am sure that I just hit a rock," I said, trembly voice full of panic. Trying to scootch his large frame under my tiny Chevy, he finally located the spot where the oil had been pouring out of. "Huh. This hole is threaded - this is where your oil plug should be!", he nodded wisely to me.
So - apparently - when you are flying low down the highway, your oil plug can just FALL OUT. This is not something I have ever heard of, and of course was not prepared for.
Now I am well versed in all things Oil Plug, Oil Light, Overhead Cam, Turbos, dealerships who promise you the moon but give you moonrocks, other dealerships who pick up the slack and restore your faith in some dealerships, and roadside assistance. Go ahead - ask me anything.
I really do like to write. Well - mostly, I like to muse. And I like to look back to see what it looked like in my head in the past, if for no other reason but to make sure that I am growing as a human.
Unfortunately, I also like the feedback and the communications with others that an open blog provides. I miss my old bloggy friends. Sarah, Colleen, Jock, Brenda - I miss them. I miss the tremendous influence that they had in my everyday life.
I hope they are all well.
Maybe I should reach out...
Deleting the blog is an obvious option. So is turning the more "odious" posts back in to drafts (which I have done already with some), so that I don't lose the content but am not displaying it for the world to see. And judge. Like I do.
I dunno. We'll see. I kinda like being able to see where I left my breadcrumbs of words so that I can tell which paths I should not traverse again.
I truly have lost touch with a couple of the people I used to be. And that is okay.
Honestly, in 2007 I was pretty sure I had this licked. "I am not everyone's cuppa tea - I get that. And that is okay", I would say. And I would truly be fine with it.
But now - not so much. I have a totally new world of people to interact with, and a totally new set of personalities to adapt to. I walk in on a future relative saying something mean about me and I shrink. I shrivel! I run away. The neighbor is snotty and disdainful one day, but friendly and engaging the next? I spend hours in turmoil trying to figure out how to increase the friendly, engaging minutes while erasing whatever I did to cause the snotty, disdainful ones. I have wasted so much time dissecting interactions between people in my past, my present and my future, all to determine how to make things better. How to make things right for these people who don't seem to like me.
I need to write it on my heart: I am not everyone's cuppa tea. I am me. And I am just fine! I don't like everyone and not everyone has to like me. That is okay.
I hereby resolve to be myself and pretend that I haven't heard or seen anything from anyone that would indicate that they think I am anything less than wonderful. And I will be much happier, I am sure. And if they are much happier as a result, that will just be bonus.
I eat so well. I don't drink a whole lot anymore. I use sunscreen and I get 8-9 hours of sleep every single night. I am blessed with very little stress and I have great genes. So WHY?
I am hoping that it is just a perception thing...like body dysmorphic disorder. Or maybe a mirror distortion.
I am not ready to be old. I didn't get being young done yet.
Have any of you done something similar to a 90 Day Challenge/Project? What were your results?
My ex-husband: You had better get a GOOD F******N LAWYER!
My Mom: Well, at least he specified what kind of lawyer to get.
My Mom: Ohhh...I bet that kind is more expensive than the other kinds.
Me: Ugh. Mom, I am worried. I feel like I am starting WWIII and my kids are going to suffer greatly because of it.
My Mom: War is good! Clears the air and good for the economy.
I love that lady.
I am converting to Catholicism. For the reals. I am actually IN the process as we speak.
In fact, I am at the part of the process that is the most intense: Lent/Easter and my first Eucharist.
For the past 7 months D and I have been attending class on what it means to become a Catholic, and I have to say it has been surprisingly enjoyable! I love my classmates, and the education is very interesting. One would think that D would be bored as he is what they call a "Cradle Catholic" (born in to the faith), but honestly, I think he has learned just as much as I have about his church.
I am surprised at myself. I did not see conversion to ANYTHING in my future. My faith has been complete since I was a child - not always practiced, but complete nonetheless.
I guess this is what happens when contemplating how to change "my future" in to "our future".
Happy New Year!
It has happened again, yes? This annual rolling around of a brand new start.
Did you take advantage of it? Did you need to take advantage of it?
I have been observing lately. I have been particularly drawn to those people who always have something in "the works". Whether it is art, a family activity, a social event, or personal improvement - I am surrounded by people who pack more in a day than I can fit in to a week.
I want to be like them.
I know that some of the people I admire are plagued with demons that I am not equipped to deal with (bipolar, scars from abuse, etc) and others have vices that carry them farther and longer than the average human ... and I don't want to have THAT part of their productive/artistic nature.
Do they always have to go hand-in-hand, though?
On a serious note, I will be sharing my New Years/New Start resolutions with you now:
In the year of 2014, I hereby resolve to buy more art. I also resolve to make some of my own.
I resolve to purchase or borrow more books - and read them sober (that makes a difference, you know). I also will write some words of my own.
I resolve to be recognize and act on my own extraordinariness. I resolve to honor yours.
Happy New Year/New Start to you. Much love!
I take this every once in awhile - just to see if my personality has improved. I think the answer is no.
Here are my newest results:
Your Existing Situation
"Is stubborn and strong-willed, once her mind is made up it is impossible to change it. she does not ask for much, so she feels when she does ask her needs should be met."
Your Stress Sources
"Unfulfilled hopes have left her feeling uncertain and even a little fearful about the future. Needs to feel secure and avoid further disappointment; fears she will be looked over, lose her position, or lose respect. Has little hope that things will get better in time and her negative attitude leads her to place impossible demands on others or to compromise or bargain."
Your Restrained Characteristics
"Self-centered, tends to take this personally and is easily offended."
Current situations force her into compromise and placing her own hopes and desires on hold for the time being.
Feels trapped in a helpless situation and is desperately seeking relief. she is able to find pleasure and happiness in sexual activity.
"Feels she is not receiving her fair share and is unable to rely on anyone for support or sympathy. she keeps her emotions bottled up, leaving her quick to take offense to small things. she tries to make the best of her situation."
"Feels trapped in a helpless situation and is desperately seeking relief. she is able to find pleasure and happiness in sexual activity, as long as there is not a lot of conflict or emotional difficulty."
Your Desired Objective
"Wishes to live in a calm, peaceful, relaxing environment, where everyone gets along and there is a strong sense of belonging."
Your Actual Problem
Disappointed because her hopes have not come to pass and she fears coming up with new goals will only lead to further disappointment. These conflicting emotions lead to a feeling of anxiety and depression. she tries to escape into a peaceful and calm relationship which offers encouragement and protection from further disappointment.
- politically discouraged.
- in love with my children. Every one of them. Ridiculously so.
- disappointed with my level of personal accountability.
- grateful for a new life - especially when I see my old life through others' eyes.
- encouraged by the blessings that turn up every day.
- still me.
I have been thinking about apologies lately. Obsessing might be the correct term. Not that I am obsessing over who I owe an apology to - just whether or not I should actually follow through on said apology.
Would it make a difference? Who would it make a difference to? Am I apologizing for my own sake? Or am I saying I am sorry to make someone else feel better? What is my motivation? Do I really owe the apology, or am I reacting to someone else's guilt trip? Am I trying to aleviate my own shame? Do I even need to feel ashamed? Is there more that I should be feeling ashamed about? Am I addressing every wrong that needs addressing? Or am I making a mountain out of a molehill?
See what I mean?
Steeled Soul, a photo by tielji on Flickr.
2010 was a tumultuous, sickening, exhilarating, devastating and an all around eventful year. I was so glad to be entering 2011 with all of the pieces of my life put back where I thought they oughta be. D and I had reconciled - although we still didn't have any idea what to do with this relationship to make and keep it healthy for both of us. My kids were doing well at home and at school - although I was starting to emotionally separate from my daughter in apprehension of her "leaving me" and going to college. My relationships with my mom and dad were both intact and everyone was - for the most part- happy and healthy. I was at poverty level financially, but felt very wealthy in terms of friends and family.
Part of any relationship is sharing with the other those things that make one feel special and cared for - and being honest about the things that don't. Being able to say "Hey! This is not okay!" is crucial to the health of a partnership. And I am not good at it. I am good at pouting. I am good at obscure references and the silent treatment. I can drop hints and exaggerated sighs like a B2 Bomber. But the straightforward approach escapes me.
This year, when planning out holiday celebrations with various family factions, it just so happened that D will be spending New Years Eve in Kansas with his family hunting and opening presents. I, on the other hand, am childless and now boyfriend-less on this very special milestone holiday. And while my brain gets the logistics of what our situation is, the little brat inside of me is throwing a temper tantrum because I don't get my way - I don't get to dress up, party, and kiss my boyfriend at midnight. Ugh. Such a terrible plight.
But really, it's more than that. I don't want to spend any holidays by myself.
I spent the previous week simpering and sighing every time that NYE came up in conversation (something I do before every holiday or special occasion that doesn't pan out my way). I repeated all of my finely honed poor communication skills - with the expected poor results. Finally, in an obviously-channeled-from-a-healthy-person session, I very clearly said: Hey, I have to tell you something. I have a problem. I am not okay with being alone on holidays. And you know what? It was easy! And good! It works! Did D change his plans and ruin his kids' time with their grandparents so that I could have my way on NYE? No. Thank goodness. But we were able to have a conversation about my feelings and expectations.
I was surprised to learn that NYE is not that big of a deal to my boyfriend. I count it as one of my "High Holidays". I reminded him of how special the NYE we spent in Boston was. Of how much fun we had going to see Benjamin Buttons another year - we went to the theatre in one year and came out of the theatre in another year, etc.
Yet, today when I was getting my head and heart right to be okay with being "alone" tonight, it dawned on me: when I was reminding him of the special NYE celebrations we have enjoyed over the past few years, I did not mention last year. Not one word was spoken about the transition from 2010 to 2011, even with all of it's drama and events. You know why?
I can't remember what we did. Or if we were even together.
I will have two special gifts for myself as we go in to the new year - one is the ability to trust that I can express my wants and needs in a healthy, constructive way. The other will be a newly written reflection of 2011. I don't want to spend anymore time this year dreading things that haven't happened or might not be as bad as I think they will be. I want to celebrate and be grateful for those moments full of joy and contentment.
Happy New Year, my friends. <3
And I am. Some of the time.
But I also seem to have another person living in me. Another person who can make a guest appearance at any given, random time. This person is nasty, peevish, cruel, judgmental, ruuuuude, and irrational to say the least.
I shouldn't say that this person shows up randomly - it really isn't as random as I would like. She can show up any random time I am drinking.
I have spent the last 15 years trying to decipher her code, trying to ward off her appearance and to somehow predict her pattern. She just does so much damage all the while using my name and my mouth.
Maybe she only comes when I don't eat enough before I drink. Or maybe I shouldn't drink cheap(er) alcohol. Maybe I was just out of my element this time, giving her a foot in the door. Perhaps I was really emotional this time drinking and that brought her around. Maybe I just don't metabolize alcohol the same since I quit smoking, and my body will come back in to balance with time. Maybe it was because I was hormonal. Or maybe I shouldn't mix my alcohols. Maybe I should only drink wine. Or beer. Or blahblahblah ad nauseum..
It is sad how much time and effort I have had to put in to repairing damage caused in my personal life (and maybe my professional life if I am honest about it). I have hurt people that I care about so very much, I have embarrassed the man that I love with my whole heart, and have made my family come to me with their concerns more than once.
Why would I continue down this road? I obviously have failed to figure out how to drink without having it turn out badly every so often. In fact, this game of Russian Roulette has more live rounds in the gun than it does blanks - more sorrowful Saturday mornings trying to piece together what chaos I have wreaked upon my loved ones than not.
The only way to guarantee victory over this particularly damaging part of my life is this:
I admit that I have a problem with alcohol. And I am committed to living my life alcohol-free from this day forth.
Not because I think it will make my life better, or fix any problem that I have right now - I just know that if I drink anymore it will make my life exponentially worse. And I am tired of hurting myself by destroying relationships and opportunities just because I haven't figured out the "right formula".
And I know that there will be many people in my world who will doubt that I can follow through on this intention - and that is okay. If I focus on what everyone else expects of me, I am sure to fail. And I may fail anyway - who knows?
But I have to say that the joy and freedom that comes to me through this decision (Yay! "She's" never coming back to hurt me or anyone else!) is liberating.
I feel free. And hopeful. And ambitious. And ...well, I feel good. Something I haven't felt in a long time.
Merry Christmas to you and me! <3
One of the only benefits to having a broken heart is the "Break up and Die" diet. Good GRIEF that was awesome! I lost every ounce of weight that I put on when I quit smoking in three weeks! I had the best time pulling my favorite outfits out of solitary confinement (otherwise known as the "I will fit into this again one day, I swear to God" section of the closet). Honestly, it was like getting a whole new wardrobe! A whole new wardrobe that most of which had since become outdated - and was promptly sent to Goodwill.
When BF and I got back together, I slowly put back on that ole Quit Weight. However, it couldn't be called Quit Weight anymore - now it could only be called Happy Fat.
Happy Fat stinks. It won't exercise off, it won't starve off, it won't melt off with sauna heat - noooo, Happy Fat is here to stay.
I am grateful that Happy Fat can be camouflaged and hidden with the right clothing, but I want to dance naked (in my own home when noone is there, by the way) at least one more time before I turn into an old lady - and Happy Fat doesn't dance naked.
The only solution that I can think of is the "Break up and Die" diet, and every once in awhile I get desperate enough to contemplate starting the process.
Thankfully - my heart knows how to trump my vanity and will shake some sense back into my head.
I just wish that when my heart shook some sense into my head, my Happy Fat wouldn't jiggle so much.
I don't care. (Not caring is called apathy. Apathy is a real word.)
Morosity - a constant state of morose-ness. (I made this up)
1.gloomily or sullenly ill-humored, as a person or mood.
2.characterized by or expressing gloom.
Good grief - I have always thought of myself as a relatively cheery and optimistic person.
It was BF who rather bluntly enlightened me with the news that I am showing all of the symptoms of chronic depression. (He wasn't that nice or elegant about it, though.)
I think the term "Chronic Depression" in itself is too broad, too much of a cop-out for everyday maladies and bad attitudes. A catch-all phrase, a generic way of explaining away being lethargic and uninspired.
I think I am just a morose person!
A beautiful sunset is mourned because it changes too quickly and goes away - never to be seen again.
A tender moment of holding hands brings a peculiar ache to the heart as the hands will separate soon and the closeness experienced will be encroached upon by time and distraction.
The joy of a reunion with a loved one is overshadowed by anticipation of the impending pain of separating again.
Morosity. I don't want it anymore. Going to find me some endorphins and serotonins and marshal my gloom and doom thoughts right on out the door until I can see sunshine in my heart again.
I can only hope it lasts... *sigh*
(Ha! See? I made a funny joke! Take THAT, morosity!)
You all know (well, some of you know) that I quit smoking using the Quitnet.com.
Internet-ANYthing is such a great sociological experiment, but an internet support system for kicking an addiction is another animal altogether. It is very intense. I think it is due to the power of the written word, but also because of the (sometimes false) sense of knowing other people very intimately because you communicate so often.
I have met the finest people on the world wide web. And most of them I met on the Q.
Often the Q will have a huge get-together where people from all over the world will come meet each other in person. These days, meetings like this are called conventions and are not very out of the ordinary. But 4 years ago it was still pretty shaky. Our friends and family were nervous for our safety and questioning our sanity. I mean, really! Who flies (or drives) thousands of miles to hang out with total strangers for the weekend for no other reason except to connect a face to a screen name?
At one such get-together, we all gathered in Chicago. (What a wonderful place!) I road-tripped with my Q-Bud Taceon, stayed in NE with another Q-Bud Courtne, and saw all of Chicago's finest tourist spots with Brnhiker and Spmozart - all people that I would have never known if not for the Q.
And amongst the 100 or so beloved strangers I was blessed to meet, there was RobQuit. Yes, I got to meet RobQuit in Chicago.
What a handsome devil. What a Q legend. What an amazing man, husband and father. What a fabulous friend.
He became my most precious penpal and support from afar - through my divorce, through my dating, through my life ills, and child raising disasters - he was there.
But now he isn't.
And he won't ever be there again.
Rob passed away this morning. From cancer.
It isn't fair.
I must apologize for the poison and nastiness in my last post. I have actually been that angry and hurt-y inside all summer long, it seems. Not only did I have myself convinced that I was the victim, but I allowed myself the luxury of striking out blindly against the ones that I love the most. How in the world did I let that happen?
Last summer it was the broken heart. This summer it was the bitter heart. If I don't get a handle on things, who knows what my heart will do next summer?
Enough of all of that.
I need to take the reigns of my emotion back before I damage any more relationships that are important to me. I need to forgive, speak words of peace, and most of all - I need to remember to be kind. To everyone. Including myself.
What a concept, eh?
I have missed you, too.
But here's the thing - my world is warping and exploding and shrinking and growing and just generally becoming unmanageable.
Why the unnecessary dramatic language, you wonder?
My daughter is graduating from high school in less than two weeks. And then she is off to college.
I can't even write about it without welling up with tears. It's not that I don't want her to blossom and grow and flourish and fly - I just want her to do it here with me! And that isn't fair. I know that I am supposed to be thrilled that she is wanting to explore the world and investigate every aspect of how she will relate to our society as a whole and healthy, productive, giving, nurturing and loving human being...and most parts of me are so very thrilled, I swear. This is a beautiful culmination of every maternal duty I was charged with when she was born!
But the part of me that isn't thrilled is plain heartbroken. I didn't expect to feel this way. I am mourning already and so afraid of just how bad this mourning can get.
She was the very first human that I ever loved with every fiber of my being.
And while I will let her go with as much grace and dignity as I can muster, and I will be her biggest supporter in creating a future that has nothing to do with mommy's wants, opinions, rules, hangups and/or feelings - it will be somewhat of a facade. A farce, if you will.
Because, really, if you could see into my heart you would see me throwing myself on the floor and begging her to stay.
Just stay a bit longer with me, my little TaylorBooBerry.
Age and maturity (?) have brought me perspective on which issues really need to be "worked out in fear and trembling", and which ones can be fodder for theological debate but are not worth my time laboring over the validity of.
Going to mass with D has been so good for this heart that KNOWS the liturgy - but after a lifetime of indoctrination, just couldn't open up enough to embrace and believe.
It's so ironic to have been raised in a spirit-filled, nondenominational charismatic church with a rock band for a worship team, three services a week, plus Christian School Monday through Friday - and here in a staid, symbol-laden Mass is where I finally meet my God.
I hope this Easter season has blessed you as much as it has me.
If you remember correctly, BF and I gave up alcohol for Lent. I am telling you right now - I have never been so excited for Easter Sunday in my life! I am planning to have Screwdrivers with my breakfast. Not kidding you. Or maybe Bloody Mary's first thing after midnight.
Come on over. I promise not to try and convert you whilst I pour mixed drinks with reckless abandon.
What is your definition of friend? Do you have many friends - or just a couple and the rest are just acquaintances? Do you have lifelong friends - or friends for a season?
I define friend as someone who can have a conversation with me at any given time of the day, on just about any subject. A friend will ask about my kids. A friend nods knowingly, with a half smile and twinkle in their eye when I recount (maybe in repeat) an escapade involving either bf, parents or rugrats. A friend knows when I an about to cry and quickly grabs a tissue or tells a silly joke, causing my tears great confusion - are we crying from laughter or despair? A friend will interject positive reinforcement when it comes to a conversation regarding me that might be going south - even if I am not present. A friend maintains hope that I will achieve what I set out for - even after I have failed to reach those same goals before.
A friend lets me see when they are hurting. A friend tells me about their bogey monster and does not feel like they need to candy coat their fear. A friend lets me hold them in a fierce protective bear hug when they are reeling from one of life's inevitable right hooks. A friend doesn't expect me to have the right words to say - and doesn't feel slighted when I have no words to say at all.
A friend laughs at my attempts to be clever and witty when I try to lighten the moment. A friend appreciates my effort to make them feel loved even when it's done with banana bread that tastes horrible.
A friend doesn't judge my value by what I wear, where I make my money, where I live, what I drive, who I love, where and who I worship, or what color my skin is.
My friends expect the best from me, forgive the worst about me, promote the vision of a perfect me, and appreciate the me that I already am.
And I am grateful to be blessed with more than a few friends - lifelong AND seasonal.
My mother is jealous of time spent with others (her own words), and it is her clarity on the issue that allows me to understand where my own thoughts torment me.
I am jealous of others' affection. I crave the status of favorite in everyone's heart - no matter the position. Favorite friend, favorite daughter, favorite parent, favorite student, favorite woman in bf's life, favorite employee, ad nauseum. I crave this status as favorite even when I don't deserve it. And even when it wouldn't make sense.
Over time, I have learned to control how I act on these feelings - I am fairly good at using logic to diffuse my bratty, fit-throwing two year old before I cause too much damage.
However, every once in awhile, that poisonous green fog envelops me in a way that I get disoriented. Especially when it comes to my kids.
I want for my children to have the healthiest relationship possible with both of their parents. I still believe that their dad is a fantastic father, and I also feel that we have both chosen romantic partners that care about our children.
But I want to be their FAVORITE.
I am rebelling.
I am working on pictures and cleaning out drawers and making myself notes to remember to send birthday and anniversary cards to obscure friends whose special occasion dates I just happen to remember even though I sometimes struggle to recall my own checking account number.
I am setting myself up for disaster and I have no earthly idea why.
Do you know why?
Will you tell me?
(Insert heart here.)