Parental Irony

So, I got in a big fight with dad a week or so ago. I was having "relationship difficulties" with Handsome Man. So, I called my mom to cry. She was a last resort, but I had to commiserate with somebody. Dad answered the call and gave me shit about calling so late. As if Mom has never called me inconvienently or my brother hasn't kept them up all night dealing with his issues. So, yeah, I was ticked.

Interesting times picking out a Father's Day card ...

Yesterday, I found out that one of my mother's favorite books, This Perfect Day, has been re-released. The joke in my family is that she gave me her copy and then borrowed it back so often and for so long it wound up again as her copy.

Another interesting note is that the author, Ira Levine, is also the author of Rosemary's Baby. Which mom once threw at my head when she found out I was taking classes about Wicca.

I don't honestlyknow what any of this really means. I guess what it means is that family relations are confusing, contradictory and incomprehensible. Also, somehow, we still wind up loving each other,

Why I Love Small Towns

Since being laid-off, I've been looking for some gigs here and there to make ends meet while freeing up some time to pursue my entrepreneurial ideas.

And this is how my journey has gone thus far.

The amazing Cape Ann Farmers' Market manager put me in touch with a local winery who was looking for a "salesperson" to staff their tent at the market.

I also got in touch with a woman who has a shop around the corner from my house. She makes bags and other items from recycled sails. One of the items she makes is... wine giftbags.

Another one of the ppl in my greater friendship circle is a blacksmith - and makes corkscrews.

All three are happy - nay, delighted - to sell one another's merch at their various locations. (Well, okay, I can't see the wine anywhere but the CAFM, but I can hand out info cards.)

So, with ll this good karma floating around, I shouldn't have been surprised at last Sunday's events.

A lovely couple came into a wine tasting and we started chatting. I can't remember how we got on the topic, but it turns out the wife and I have both done charity bike rides. I mentioned that I had completed mine on a hybrid. "Oh heavens!" she said, "I'm impressed." At the end of the conversation - knowing how much money she needed to raise for her upcoming involvement in the PanMass Challenge, I told her to please stop by again and I would pledge her.

After telling me how nice that was, she asked if I'd ever thought about getting a road bike. Sure, I joked, if you can buy it for me.

"Actually, I have a really good one sitting in my garage. I upgraded to a newer model - and this one needs a seat and its gears need re-stringing - but otherwise it's in great shape."

She was serious and even made it sound like I was doing her a favor by taking it out of her garage.

Yea karma. Yea good neighbors. Yea help one another out anyway we can. Yea Universe.

Forgive and Forget?

I spoke with a former colleague today. I like and respect this man. And I feel for him because he is still caught in a difficult situation; selling a product in a market that is, at best, resistant and, at least, doomed to fail in his market.

During our discussion, he tried to convey to me that (former boss) has mellowed. I don't - can't - buy it. This is the man who had made me so terrified - scared to express idea, opinion, insight, or unique observation - that I was literally afraid to go into work, afraid to open email, afraid to answer my phone. Fuck - afraid to wake up.

Life under CBL was horrendous - being oncall 24x7; expected to manage all of her expectation and emotions; responsible for being employee, friend and sounding board; was bad. And because I wasn't in a safe place - mentally and spirituall - I let it take its toll on me.

But to be outright harassed, bullied, insulted and threatened ... it has honestly left a permanent scar. It's like a mental/emotional rape - it takes away your power, your independance, your security. And you're left with a feeling of complet loss of control.

Was it because I am female? Was it because I challenged his viewpoint? Was it because I am an individual and dared to flaunt that in his face? Was it because I will respect a human but not a role?

I have no idea. But the reality is ... I was bullied and abused. And that will never go away. I want to hold him in lovingkindness. I want to feel sympathy for him.

But I can't. And right now, I won't. Through my work with Amazing Therapist, I've come to terms with the fact that it's OK to be angry. I want to be better, be above anger and blame, but I'm coming to terms with the fact that it needs to be OK if that takes some time.

So, yeah. Maybe that asshat boss has "mellowed out." But the scars he left on me aren't gone. Not yet. Not now.

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.