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.