Just a quick realization

I've been having some ups and downs recently. Trying to find a healthy balance between a number of competing factions. It's been a rough road, but I'm really trying hard.

I woke up today, exhausted. I woke up exhausted. How ridiculous is that? But I was determined not to let yet another beautiful day pass me by while I wallowed in bed.

So, up I got and put my bathig suit on. I've been stressing about how I would be looking in a bikini (fat, dimply, etc). But, why? Sure, there are thin, buff bodies all over the beach. But also lots of people in various other skins. And who cares? They're enjoying the sun, the sound of the surf and al of the fun action of a day at the beach. Why was I letting crazy societal expectations dictate how much fun I could have on a -- my -- beach?

I admit I was a bit self-conscious walking around. But I soon found I was concentrating more on the surf, the shells, the sun and the sounds than on any self-consciousness. I was enjoying myself - enjoying being "in" myself.

And when I went to lie down and soak up some sun, I found that I'd planted myself next to a woman who was chattering into her cellphone obsessively. Here she was, at the beach, on a holiday, talking - insistently talking - about business. She ended the call saying: "Look, I'm wrapping up here. I'll go home, pull the proposal up on my laptop and call you right back."

I used to be that woman. I used to identify myself by my job. I checked email over breakfast. I was expected to answer calls on nights, weekends, holidays. As miserable as I was, I also knew I had a job title to identify me by. It's what people do. It's what you write in to updates for you college bulletin. It's what your parents tell friends and neighbors when they ask after you.

But it also keeps you from enjoying a sunny holiday on a beautiful beach. It keeps you from pondering how you're going to use the hours ahead to more fully realize who you are and who you want to be.

We all have our demons. I'm still battling the body-image fight. And maybe a couple of others. But at least I can recognize the old me when I hear it. And I can take steps - small and large - to continue moving forward to make me more me and less that woman.

So, yeah, I don't quite exactly know who I am or what I want or what I need to get there. But I know that I'm moving in the right direction. And that feels pretty darned good.

I Just Don't Understand

So, for the past few weeks, with all the craziness and uncertainty going on in my life, I've been a bit ... needy. In therapy speak: "I have been having trouble self-soothing and, so, have been seeking affirmation from others," Complicated wording for "I've been a clinging, sobbing mess."

So it's not surprising that Handsome Man - who has plenty of issues of his own - has decided that maybe we're not well-suited. And I can certainly understand why.

So, he dodges questions about our still dating or being girlfriend/boyfriend or spending "romantic" time together,

But then, he calls me at 10:30 to say, "Hey, just seeing what's up. Give a shout whenever." He still gives me "wakey wakey" calls. He still spends time talking to me about what's going on with his day, his life.

So, if he's trying to break it off, he's being REALLY 'round about about it.

I've dropped a few "jokey" questions/hints and he manages to artfully dodge them instead of addressing them.

So what to do now? I have been trying to be "breezy" but it's been tough. Not because I'm still feeling so needy, but because I've been so GD confused.

Men. Can't live with em, pass the peanuts.

Too too much

Let's suffice to say that, should I, hypothetically, die, my journal and blog would even BEGIN to represent the thoughts and feelings I've had over the last few days.

I've been working on this project while, eventually it is hoped/insinuated, will bear much monetary fruit, for the moment it feels like volunteer work. And while I'm fine with volunteer work, it would have been known at the outset.

Fighting with parents who have made it more than clear to me that they are sick and tired, tired and sick, of dealing with my shit. Helpful. Especially in view of the next paragrapth.

Peepers is sick. No, actually, dying. She has kidney disease and there's little we can do but keep her on her treatment and pray. And pray. And I don't even pray, but I'm praying. If the medicine keeps it could be a long time that I have with her. Blessed Goddess let's hope. But even so, I know that I'll be holding the thought that this is the last time I have with her always...

And so, I tried to share this with Handsome Man. He had little to offer. "Don't let this keep you up all night" he said. Really? My baby of 17 years is dying - not today, but maybe next week or (Goddess be) next month or year... - and you want me NOT to lose some sleep? Much less offer to come over and hold me. It's not in his nature to suggest it and certainly not in his nature to comply once suggested. He's got boatloads going on and I get that. But I'm thinking it's time I had a boyfriend who knew - or at least responded to - what I need.

So I will spend tonight chasing Peeps around the apartment making sure she's not getting sick or ... (courtesy demands my silence). And making sure Eliza doesn't feel alienated. Making sure that the whole family remains status quo and healthy.

And for not losing sleep? Yeah, right.

-K

q'est-ce q'ue se

This blog probably won't be too coherent -- sorry. But here's where it's at. I' am a big confues about wher my job is and whaat the payment is. And in the meantime I amy or may not be getting an advance from Good Buddy. Because often been a shit to me. But more often thn not (and this doesn't make the news) he's been right and standup and a pretty decent go-to-guy.

So I'm stressed about money and stressed about how little Handsome Man cares about my emotional side of things and scared about my lack of healthcare and lack of understanding from my family and, ... well, I'm scared.

I'm supposed to go into work tomorrow but for what cause and what result? Do I have friends? So I have people who give a shit? Brooke is too busy to even give me a hug. And he's supposed to love me. My being must be worth so much...

FML,
-K

Who'da thunk?

Been having a really rough couple of days. Here's why:

1) Unemployment got screwed up b/c of piece-o-shit restaurant job
2) Health insurance got screwed up b/c of beauracratic paperwork BS
3) Part-time job offered me one thing and then changed it mid-stream. Resulting in supreme less money but still lots of time.

All of this is leading me down the primrose path that one job ago had me hospitalized in a psych ward for a suicide attempt.

Why do people keep taking advantage of me? Why do I keep trying to do my best and yet fall flat on my face? Why do I try to identify myself through activities and not personhood? Why do I let negative situations affect my impression of the footprint of my true soul?

I wound up tonight in uncontrollable tears, in the bathtub (do the math). I called Good Buddy. And you know what? He talked me down. Yes, he helped me to cry - to get it all (mostly) out. But then he made me laugh. He got what I was crying about and why.And then he turned the discussion on its head and inadvertantly (?) gave me reasons to think about why staying around might not suck.

I'm feeling lonely and alone. I've been sick and Handsome Man hasn't had the time to call, much less visit and stroke my hair or offer me soup. I have a job that isn't really a job and I'm frustrated and feeling passive aggressive. These are not pleasant feelings. They do not contribute to the fullness of my soul.

But I can't afford to buy a new cat-water filter much less a trip to Kripalu. So I guess I'll have to find a peaceful place on my own.

Or, the courage to combine a very warm bath and an Exacto (R) Knife.

Mixed, er um, feelings

So I've been under a lot of stress lately. One of the new "jobs" hasn't exactly turned out the way I thought. And, that's a post in and of itself (which will have to wait).

But I've also been juping through LOTS of beauracratic hoops and that plus money worries has me stressed out in so many ways. In fact, I'm so stressed I don't even feel stressed. It's just become my normal state.

Enter the effects.... I've developed and "acute case of IBS." In case you're not familiar with IBS, it's a condition whereby the digestive tract acts in ways that cause significant and frequent "flare-ups" that make normal digestion "uncomfortable or painful." Hello understatement.

So my life has devolved into working (see clusterfuck), coming home to down some Immodium and then read in between ... episodes. I've not eaten anything of substance in five days.

So, yeah, that's been my life. Gruesome and annoying, but ... A sad result is that I haven't been able to hang out or see friends for days now...

Enter Handsome Man. He means well, I'm sure he does. But it's been daaaaaaaaaaaaays since we've seen each other. And to rectify that situation? Tonite he invited me out to dinner. DINNER. I've had the farts and shits for a week and he invites me out to DINNER.

On the one hand, I'm thankful that he's been paying attention to my desire to spend time together. On the other hand ----- what part of I'M SICK AS A DOG are you not hearing?

But the upside to all of this is it's given me time to think ... to really think. I'm not in the throes of excitement of being free from corporate tyranny. I'm edging out of the throes of red-tape nightmares. Now I have a chance to REALLY hunker down and use this time for self-reflection, self improvement and direction in ways that will help me reach MY goals.

So, yeah, mixed emotions. As for feelings? Emotionally - getting there. Physically -- Immodium take me awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Not the Bill of Rights or Human Rights but the Rights of being a Person

It's probably no surprise to those who know me that I have a *tad* bit of a problem standing up for myself. Maybe it's because, as a kid, displaying my independance wound up with serious retribution. (OED: spanking). Of course, there are thousands of other reasons that years of therapy (enter angels singing) have opened my eyes to.

All of the causes and reasons aside, the reality remainst that I am still unable and/or uncomfortable voicing my rights.

For three weeks, I've been "working" at a start-up publishing company trying to get their first mass-market title in circulation. I was hired to help with marketing tasks, but the author (read: boss) decided it was more important to "get the book out there." So my job description went from marketing to sales. Just like *snap* that.

So, here it is, three weeks later. I've put in 60+ hours and have yet to see a dime. The woman I deal with on a day-to-day knows that things are uncomfortable, but I haven't quite yet been at a comfortable level to broach the subject.

A wise and knowing friends offered this: "You're not asking for special treatment. You're asking for compensation for services rendered."

She's right. So why am I so worried about going in there tomorrow and asking for a frank discussion? Why do I feel the need to practice it over and over?

I know and believe in my worth as a person and a profession. Why can't I stand up for that worth?

Adjusting to a New Reality

So, the new job is great. Awesome, actually. I like the tasks, I like the peeps, I like the mission. Problem is, I'm being paied intern money. As this is under the table, I don't really mind. It gives me a reason to get up in the morning and a sense of mission. But what *is* difficult is that my tendency is to not turn off when "work" ends.

I'm getting emails at nights and on weekends. It's the trait of a stream-of-consciousness personality. Not the obsessiveness of CBL, as she was misassociating. This is an author, caring and passionate about his work. And, likewise, I feel strongly about it. BUT - I don't get paid for nights/weekends/overtime. So, the question becomes, how do I manage this push/pull?

My history cautions me to enact restraint. And I am legitimatily trying. That said, it also feels pretty dern good to have a reason to be on call, on email, etc.

Guess I need to come to a happy equilibrium...

Ugh.