Perpetual State of Flux

I'm a little bit better today.  Sometimes, I need to manage my own expectations and take things day by day. Other times, I need to feel sorry for myself and stop my feet and wonder why it hasn't just fallen into my lap.

It's was Joni singing "Help me, I think I'm falling"...

After waking up in a fantastic mood, I am now feeling weepy.  I'm cuing up Mitchell and faking my way through the rest of this day. 

You've gotta believe there's a plan.

Otherwise, how could you cope with the disappointment? It sucks to watch people who deserve so much continually come up short. 

I wish I could shake those people and make them realize what they have just passed up like a proud meddling mother. 

Maybe the setbacks are necessary to enjoy the triumphs.  WHEN they come.

Maybe its all just a bunch of bullsh*t.  All I know is that you amaze me.  I hope that is worth something but really you deserve so much more. 

Today

This morning I’m thinking about how I’m becoming a misanthrope. I think it’s because I’m too sensitive. I take everything personally. On the flip side, I don’t dole out the same consideration I want to receive. I’m not forgiving. I’m easily annoyed. I write people off for silly things. I want to be alone. And part of me still wants to be sitting at the popular kids table. Maybe I’m realizing I’m not as smart as I believed myself to be. Was it all an illusion? I want to burst out in tears. An email sent with constructive criticism is eternalized and I want to retreat to bed and never emerge. I’m stupid. I’m no longer a pretty girl. I’m fat. I hate myself. I hate you. I hate pedants and fashionistas. Neither related but two things I’m too stupid and ugly to be. I want to be that girl again, the one who was once told she was the prettiest girl one had ever met. A compliment from a stranger no less. I want to be the prettiest girl in law school. A strange compliment – still, I’ll take it. For one time in my life I got attention. Good attention and I liked it. Now, I’m a loser. You tell me your stories and I want you just to stop talking. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. I don’t care to know you or your stories. I don’t want to sleep with our backs to each other any more. Words we share in the morning about wanting more sleep and our busy day ahead. I want to laugh and sleep in the nook. I want you to love me. I know you do but I want to bask in it not just know it. I’m dying. We are all dying but this morning I am acutely aware of the fact that I am dying and I’m sad because someone told me I should proofread something lest I lose credibility. I know this but it was an informal document I didn’t think it mattered. It doesn’t but some are just more “persnickety”. I’m not corporate. Who am I kidding? I’m nothing. I’m sitting on my couch wishing I was something more. Always wishing. Always wanting. I covet. And then I hate. No, I don’t. I don’t have hate in me. I have hope and underneath it all I’m fucking Pollyanna. Battered and Bruised. Protected. So wounded and betrayed but constructive criticism. Bed. Solace. Refuge. I want to be rescued but who would think to rescue me? The fractured pieces were held together so precariously. Soon I’ll be so broken there won’t be anything left but dust.

Porcelain Dolls

You know those beautiful girls?  The ones who look like they are made out of porcelain and have blue blood running through their veins.

I have none of that in me. 

In fact, even when I try to pull it off, I feel like a colossal fraud.  I’ve never had a day where a hair wasn’t out of place.  Bra straps never stay where they should.  And there is nothing delicate about the way I look.

I never had much occasion to think about this in the Midwest. In L.A., the look is one of silicone and botox. I appreciated the ways that I stood out. Frankly, this all started in Boston. Now in New York, accompanied by my loneliness and absence of my girlfriends, I find that I really feel like I don’t fit in. 

Silly, isn't it. All I want is someone to have a glass of Pinot Grigio with and talk about life. Is that really so much to ask? 

Lonely. I'm so lonely

So, I'm living in New York. Now what do I do?

Slowly getting settled but I have no friends. No job. I am not so young anymore and feel tragically unhip. I went to this bar last night that was recommended to me and I think these kids were making fun of us. I don't know why...but it made me feel even more alone and sad.

Then I proceeded to get wasted at some Irish Pub filled with arrogant drunks. They were drunks and they were arrogant. I know it will take me awhile to acclimate but it is so hard for me to figure it all out.

Not that I know what "it" is...

I'm just utterly clueless.

There isn't a ton around us -- so naturally I have to get out and explore but I just don't know where to start.

Silly. I know. But then it just makes me feel more sad.

Something real...

I have spent this weekend drowning my sorrows in cigarettes and alcohol. Last week, I had a day of interviews for a job I really wanted. Late Friday I received some news that left me believing that my chances of getting this position at once seemingly good were now terribly bad.

It broke my heart. I am sad.

I have been harboring this sense of dread about getting my hopes up. Finally, things seemed to be going in the right direction for us and they very well may be but the rejection sent me down a darker path.

Most of this is motivated by fear. So much to fear but I have to realize that I should just go with all of this and not be controlled by these feelings because in the end it is a lot of effort and emotion over something with no constructive value.

So, tomorrow I have to wake up in a better place and have a new approach. Of course, it doesn't help that I am turning 30 on Friday.

I feel like a total looooooossssserrrrrrr.

I don't want to spend the next decade of my life in a bar. I don't want to spend the next decade of my life going to a job I don't like that doesn't challenge me.

The sad thing is that when I was 20...I think I was actually smarter.

I say that because I couple of weeks ago I was helping my parents go through some of my old stuff in anticipation of the impending move and I found a bunch of my college "blue book" exams. Reading through them I was so impressed at what I knew.

20s were spent going out and having fun.

One week away from it I have little to show for it.

I know that sounds terrible. I have a ton of great relationships and I know that is part of the puzzle but each of those individuals is struggling with their own journey...not mine. This is my struggle.

I know I harp on and on about making changes and do little to actualize them. So, in the end I am back where I started.

Sitting at home feeling sorry for myself talking about how Monday I am going to make things better.

Right.

I guess we will see.

How I Feel Right Now

Throat tight, hard to swallow. Stomach nauseous...ulcerated. Heaviness in the general chest area. Eyes blinking to fight off tears.

This job is so hard.

It's hard to feel sorry for oneself in light of everything that is going on in the world... it's hard but I do.

Sure, I didn't lose my loved ones and worldly belongings in a massive tsunami.

And how can you write anything after that without it sounding self-indulgent and trivial.

The same thing happened when my wedding was cancelled three weeks before I was to "walk down the aisle." A week after we called it off, two airplanes crashed into the World Trade Center.

Why do we want to be grown up when this is what being a grown up is all about?

Right now...I am incredibly susceptible to a Tony Robbins' informercial.

The idea that only I control my destiny and I should take my life by the reigns and change my circumstances and perspective.

The problem, Mr. Robbins is that when I first "took the reigns" of my life, I opened up a bunch of credit cards as a Freshmen in college and I haven't been able to stop spending.

So while all I want to do right now is run. But I can't because I have made myself a slave to my lifestyle.

I have been trying to define my resolutions and simply put -- I need to do anything that is going to make my life grand.

A grand life is one where Teddy and I can travel, have a gaggle of children, and retire early. It isn't about having the latest and greatest new handbag.

Additionally, it is a life of good health or practicing a way of life that leads to a healthy lifestyle.

I want to paint more pictures. See great works of art. Listen to a symphony. Go to the Opera. Travel the world. Take a train across the Pacific Northwest. Laugh more. Write more. Find a job that challenges me both spiritually and intellectually. Read more. Watch less T.V. Get back into yoga. Run a 5k. Donate things I don't really use anymore to charity. Go to a tropical Island. Go to Europe, Japan, China, Thailand and India. Make the documentary I have been planning for years. Learn photography. Learn two foreign languages. Do things I loved doing as a child -- ice skating, sledding, laying in the grass, doing handstands in a swimming pool, play baseball, play tennis.

That's just the start. Of course I won't be doing all of these things this year -- that would be amazing but I think that is a tough feat even for me.

That's all for now.

Transitions

My Grandmother died on Monday.

I don't think it has really hit me. She has been struggling for so long that I think all of us feel this overwhelming sense of relief. At the same time, however, there is so much that I wish I could have learned from all of my grandparents.

Both of my grandmothers were incredible women.

From Grandma K, I learned the value of style and grace. Self-preservation and independence. Grandma and Grandpa K showed me the beauty of true enduring love. As long as they had each other, everything was okay.

Grandma S was the sweet doting Grandmother. She tried so hard to make us happy whenever we came to visit. She loved to hear about our lives and never wanted more from us than just a letter. She never wanted us to spend money on anything. Cards for birthdays were simply a foolish waste of money. "Write it on a grocery sack" she would say. It was all she ever wanted and of course now, I wish I would have written more.

She was alone for so long. There are many things I wish I would have done and can no longer do.

While none of them were perfect, far from it in fact, the lessons from their generation appeal to me so much. Something truly lacking from the "baby boomers" and my generation of spoiled brats who feel they are entitled to everything without any struggle or effort.

The struggles my grandparents endured are seemingly insurmountable today.

I miss them all dearly but they will be a constant influence on my life.

***

I decided against attending my grandmother's funeral. The way my family was acting was too much. Once I actually spoke to my father and he told me that he understands if I don't make it -- I felt an enormous sense of relief. Not to mention the fact that my brothers are upset with me and I don't really feel that I am in the best place to be treated as the object of the derisions.

I have some plans to celebrate my grandmother's life. A short mass at her nursing home followed by a few words at her gravesite don't really do it for me. If there was more family, or if I felt my family would be kind and loving...I would have approached this differently.

Besides, I spent a far greater amount of time with my grandmother while she was alive than any of my siblings. This isn't to say that I harbor feelings of superiority -- it is simply to lessen the guilt I do feel. I will feel the guilt but I am also proud of the time I had with her. I am glad I made the effort I did and I was blessed to have that time with her.

***

I recently reconnected via email with a man I dated for a short time in college. While we knew each other for a incredibly short time, he is someone that I will always think of fondly because I met him in a time where no one could see through all of my garbage and devices. He was probably the first person who scolded me for engaging in the vapid tendencies of my peers. He saw that there was more to me than that and took a chance on me when few took me for more than a reputation.

After we dated, I never fell back into the same self-destructive habits that I was drowning in prior to his insistance that I learn to value myself. For that, I will always be thankful to him. It was only then that I was able to truly love the person that I am and respect myself.

For if I wasn't the woman I am now Ted would never have fallen for a girl like me.

***

My agenda for tonight...I am still too tired after drinking too much on Monday. So, I don't think I will make it to the gym. I want to be very rested for this weekend. I miss my boy and my dog so much.

The Bachelor starts tonight. Oy...I don't know if that makes me happy or sad that my life is so pathetic!!!

I just finished walking three miles. It is going to take a lot of time before I am running them. Especially in light of the fact that I have been smoking way too much lately. It kills my lungs and it is killing them too.

Speaking of death (that's rather flippant) my grandmother is dying. They think she has cancer because she is in hospice writhing in pain. However, because she is in hospice they aren't doing anything to determine whether or not she does indeed have cancer. Instead they have started the morphine, which...as it has with both my maternal grandparents...will ultimately kill her. Morphine slows down the respitory system so much that someone my grandmother's age (94) will likely die slowly from the morphine as the dosage is continually increased.

Watching someone dying who is on morphine is perhaps one of the most disturbing images to behold. The breathing becomes so slowed that the person won't breathe for what seems like minutes and then suddenly this loud gasp erupts from the individual, scaring an observer nearly to death.

My father is down with her now and is staying until she passes. Apparently, she told a nurse "just to kill her." It seems that a woman who endured so much in life wouldn't have to endure so much in death. It is so terrible.

I also hate the idea that my dad is down there with her alone. He thinks she recognizes him but he doesn't think she cares because she is just so miserable. Apparently, she seemed incredibly agitated but seemed to settle when the priest came into to administer something akin to last rights. Okay, I am showing what a bad Catholic I am -- but in order for your death to be the final of the seven sacrements, you are annoited with holy oil. My mother informed me that in a nursing home, especially a hospice wing...the priest just goes around and annoits those who are on the brink. Nice, huh? Cattle call for sacrements.

Well, this really seemed to calm her down. In recent years, my devoted Grandmother would tell my father, her only child, that she believes she is going to hell because they were so poor they couldn't afford another child besides my grandfather and she used birth control. Can you believe it? This is the worst thing this woman has ever done and she has lived the majority of her life being tormented by this.

The last of my grandparents. Here I sit, nearing thirty and haven't even figured out what I am doing in my life.

I wanted my children to know my grandparents. Now, I will be lucky to have parents for them to know.

I have to make some serious changes. This move is going to be symbolic on a number of levels -- not only significant to my career changes.

I can't continue to live my life like a teenager. Unaware that my actions have consequences. Mostly, I mean my health but there are other things that are important to consider as well.

I am so fortunate to have this life and Ted. This isn't situational reflection either. It is simply a reality check.

I don't know if this make sense to anyone but me -- but I don't feel much life ranting on it. I know that I have to make some positive changes.

That's it.