Mental Meanderings of a Soul in Progress

Lost

2010-09-01T03:44:00.000-07:00

Have you ever done something, for all the right reasons, but had it feel so very wrong that you don't know if you can live with the outcome?

It truly sucks.

My new life as a whole person

2010-05-02T06:25:00.000-07:00

Greetings to anyone who actually sees this!

It's been a long, uphill battle back from the brink of disaster. I was mostly unaware of the depths of the depression that consumed me after cancer surgery changed my physical makeup, but I am here to say that it takes more than a bit of snip and rip to keep me down. My life is changing and I am changing with it, for the better this time!

I am now the proud grandmother to a handsome two month old baby boy who is the apple of his daddy's eye, and the darling of his beautiful mother, my daughter. I am also the contented mother-in-law to a beautiful, kind, generous lady who loves my youngest daughter. The finishing touch is that I now have a sweet, sensitive, charming young lady in my circle who has chosen my son for her beloved. He is happier now than I think I have ever seen him in his whole life, and I thank the Gods for his good fortune.

It has been a strange transition for me, these past few months, from tired, sick woman to strong (although fat), confident Crone. I truly believe the corner was turned when I decided to take my existence into my own hands and start to do something to fix the problems that have haunted me for so long. I am making peace with the demons of "victim" mentality (I will go into this at another time, as I have obligations today and must attend shortly), and taking better care of my physical body by walking and swimming several times a week. I feel stronger and more sure of myself now than I have in years. I am looking forward to the next 20, 30, even 40 years for they will surely bring excitement and contentment that will counterbalance the losses that are an inevitability.

More later, for now I must fly...

I am DISGUSTED

2009-11-04T06:25:00.000-08:00

Yet another blow has been struck for stupidity, right-wing myopia and bias on the part of ignorant, God-invoking Neanderthals with the current referendum vote in the great state of Maine. Oh yes, if same-sex couples are allowed to wed it will be the ruin and the finish of "normal" marriage, and the downfall of the world. Such bullshit. I mean, after all, heterosexual marriage has been so bloody successful all these years, right? Male-female couples always stay married, treat each other with dignity and respect and produce perfect children all the time, right?

I am disgusted.

http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/maine-gay-marriage-law-repealed/story?id=8992720

Musings of a tired lady

2009-10-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I don't sleep at night. I lie awake and listen to my own heart beating. When the lights are out and I am alone, I remember that I am only temporary, and perhaps more temporary than others around me. Cancer has stolen my peace of mind and my sense of permanence. I know I am vulnerable, and I resent it. I liked being oblivious. Now I lie awake and listen to my own breath, knowing that it is going to cease long before I am ready for it to, no matter how old I may get to be. This world is temporary, so do what you need to for your peace of mind, because you will never get a second chance. Listen to the drumbeats, the tattoo that spells out your mortality.

My daughter is carrying a baby boy. I will be a grandmother in about 4 more months. I plan to be around to help this little fellow grow up to be a strong and loving man. Thinking about him helps to keep the drums quiet, even though I know they are always right there on the edge of my consciousness.

And so it goes

2009-08-09T13:37:00.000-07:00

It's August. My world is changing, and I am pleased. I am going to be a grandmother in the early part of next year. My youngest is getting married in two weeks. I am cancer free and gaining strength by the day. I have made peace with some demons that have plagued me for a long time, and I think I know which way I will travel, at least for a little while. Life is not all bad. I do well with my solitude. It is the best way for me to know that I am, after all, just me.

And so it goes

2009-05-02T20:05:00.001-07:00

It has been a very long time since I last posted. I have been down a long and harrowing road in that time, and I hope that there will be some peace for a time now. I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer this past December, and was operated on to remove my uterus, ovaries, fallopian tubes, cervix and 13 lymph nodes. The lymph nodes had to come out because of the size of the growth. By the time I was correctly diagnosed, the tumor was 13 cm wide. 13 cm. That might not mean a lot to many, but it equals a bit over 6 inches. In a 52 year old uterus. There shouldn't be 13 cm of anything in there at this age!

I was misdiagnosed for about a year by a doctor who was disinterested, at best, in my symptoms. He kept telling me they were normal peri-menopausal goings on, and not to fret, they would soon be over. I knew that the hemorrhagic bleeding and seeping of clear fluid was not normal for me. Fortunately, the type and grade of malignancy were both slow growing and non-aggressive, and that gave me a great chance to be saved. Indeed, I had the most wonderful surgeon in the world on my case, and I think between his skill and the tencacity of my primary care physician, who would not let me take the original quack's word for what was going on, my life was saved. I healed for a few weeks, then went for a course of Internal Brachytherapy, which is focused, internal radiation. My odds for recurrence are less than 5%.

The surgical techniques they have these days are really cool. The doctor made 6 small incisions in my abdomen and inserted laparoscopes through which he did almost all of the work. When everything was trimmed away and ready, they scooped everything they wanted to get rid of out of my vagina and away. No fuss, no muss. Healing takes half the time of conventional open surgery, and the pain is minimized (although by no means absent). The part of the whole experience that is the most fascinating is the effect that surgical menopause is having on me. I am both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde at times, the masks of Tragedy and Comedy, The ice queen and the devil, burning in hell. I am grateful to be alive, grateful to my good doctors, and my friends and family for their support.

Now here is the caveat: I am boiling inside with a seething, foetid anger, a rage that burns out of control at times over the stupidity of that goddamn imbecile for not recognizing my symptoms. If he had diagnosed me even 6 months earlier, I would not have had to go through radiation hell as I did. If he had done a simple, stupid biopsy a year earlier, I might not have lost my ovaries, because it would have been pre-cancerous cells they would have found, not a full blown fucking LAWN of malignancy. If I had listened to him and ignored the symptoms I might have bled to death (did I mention how anemic I was?) or I would be handed a death sentence somewhere down the road by a doctor who knew what they were talking about. If I had listened to him and been a good, obedient girl, I would be preparing to die right now. No one should die young from a disease that can be diagnosed as easily as this one. The tests are simple, and they don't lie. I want this doctor to squirm and suffer with the knowledge that he could have cost me my life. I believe he knows about it, too, not from me, but from my radiologist, who demanded to know who he was and where he practices. Maybe it will stop him from making the same mistake on another woman. Maybe they just pulled his license and left him for the dogs to devour. I don't really care which, as long as he doesn't ever do this to another woman. Damn his soul to agony forever.

As it stands right now, I go for my first follow up set of tests on June 15th. I am still scared, but not overly so. I believe it will be OK. I just wanted anyone who might stop by to know where life can go.

Don't take anything for granted. You never know when it could be taken from you. Cherish the small things, and hold your babies close to your hearts. Love like there is no tomorrow. Eat chocolate, and smile!

Stolen from a friend's blog:

2007-10-26T03:07:00.000-07:00

The following is attributed to Dan Barker. I don't know if he really exists or if he really said it, but I don't care. This is brilliant and simple:

"I do understand what love is, and that is one of the reasons I can never again be a Christian. Love is not self denial. Love is not blood and suffering. Love is not murdering your son to appease your own vanity. Love is not hatred or wrath, consigning billions of people to eternal torture because they have offended your ego or disobeyed your rules. Love is not obedience, conformity, or submission. It is a counterfeit love that is contingent upon authority, punishment, or reward. True love is respect and admiration, compassion and kindness, freely given by a healthy, unafraid human being."

8 Things about me

2007-07-08T17:54:00.000-07:00

*Players have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
* Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
* People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.* Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

Without further ado, here we go….

When I was a child I wished more than anything that I had been born a boy. Fortunately, I grew out of that. It’s much more convenient and pain-free to stay the way you were born.

I didn’t have my own room until my sister moved out when I was 20.

My favorite vegetables as a child were turnip, broccoli and corn.

In junior high my ambition was to be a marine biologist. A strong fear of sharks was the only thing that really kept me from pursuing it. To this day I will not swim in the ocean.

My all time favorite sandwich is liverwurst and dill pickles.

I dread using the elevator, and will try to get hotel rooms near the ground floor. The only way my co-workers got me to the bar at the Hancock Tower in Chicago was to get me drunk first…because the bar is on the 95^th floor!

One of my goals is to get the autographs of Tedy Bruschi, Tom Brady and Junior Seau. I don’t want to buy them, I want to get them in person. If you don’t know who they are, don’t even bother to ask.

I cannot sleep if my feet are either too hot or too cold. Too cold is the worst. I sleep with socks on from October to April.

Since I don’t post regularly to this blog, and since I don’t have a whole host of friends collected, I will probably tag friends from my live journal page. Some responses are apt to be public, some “friends only”. Such is life…

I tag:

Fnoxib

Astralquest

Halloweenboy

Damocles_tongue

Sagebearz

Tinman

Harlot_brady

Limegreensquid

Just a fun little meme

2007-06-09T08:32:00.000-07:00

1.You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

My best friend's wife

2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be?

Couldn’t do that for professional/ethical reasons

3.Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

My best friend's wife

4. What is your favorite cheese?

Sharp Cheddar

5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal. What shall you choose?

Probably turkey, with leaf lettuce, mayonnaise, half-sour pickles, sliced tomatoes, onions and just a touch of hot pepper.

6. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie-celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once (they will never call you back). Who is it?

Antonio Banderas

7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Same rules as above. Who is it?

Josh Groban if he were 20 years older. Right now it would just be sick…

8. Now that you've slept with two different people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy shit, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it?

Take all my best freinds out for lunch (select group that they are)

9. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

Santa Barbara, CA

10. Upon arrival to the aforementioned location, you get off the plane and discover another hundred-dollar bill.

Put it in my bra, you never know when you'll need $100.

11. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. Be brand-specific. What would you choose?

Corona

12. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there?

Back to June 4, 1973. I would f***ing beat the crap out of my boyfriend when he said we should break up instead of just being so wimpy and hurt.

13. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

When you get angry at someone, you have to go and cool off before you start in on them.

14. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and whats the premise?

”Now, Boys…” It’s about men behaving badly.

15. What is your favorite expletive?

Fuck.

16. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren't really doing anything, they're just standing around your bed. What do you do?

Ask if they mind if I tear off a chunk to blow my nose.

17. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don't worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what's the one thing you're going to save from that blazing inferno?

My photo chest, with all my babies in it.

18. The Angel Of Death has descended upon you. Fortunately, the Angel Of Death is pretty cool and in a good mood, and it offers you a half-hour to do whatever you want before you bite it. Whatcha gonna do in that half-hour?

Say goodbye and I love you to everyone I want to hear it.

19. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be?

Invisibility.

20. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

October 15th, 2002, at about 7 PM.

21. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? (the answer "nothing" doesn't count)

My sister dying at age 21. I think life would have been very different if she had lived.

22. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit... you can move to anywhere else in the world. Where would you move?

Fiji

23. This question still counts, even for those of you who are under age. Check it out. You have been eternally banned from every single bar in the world except for ONE. Which one is it gonna be?

Shorty’s

24. Hopefully you didn't mention this in the super-powers question.... If you did, then we'll just expand on that. Check it out... Suddenly, you have gained the ability to FLOAT!!! Whose house are you going to float to first, and be like "Dude check it out I can fucking FLOAT!!!"?

My best friend…but then, I’d have to be invisible too. Gotta give the whole effect!

25. The constant absorption of magical moonbeams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier have given you the ability to resurrect the dead famous-person of your choice. So which late celebrity will you bring back to life?

Madeleine Kahn

26. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn't think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

My Dad.

I want one of these....

2006-10-24T08:46:00.000-07:00

No, not the action figure, the actual thing. Anybody know where I can get one? :-)

BITCHOLOGY

2006-09-28T12:14:00.000-07:00

This, received in email from a friend of mine today, sums it all up quite nicely:

When I stand up for
myself and my beliefs,
they call me a

bitch.

When I stand up for
those I love,
they call me a

bitch.

When I speak my mind,
think my own thoughts
or do things my own way,
they call me a

bitch.

Being a bitch
means I won't
compromise what's
in my heart.

It means I live my life
MY way.

It means I won't allow
anyone to step on me.

When I refuse to
tolerate injustice and
speak against it, I am
defined as a

bitch.

The same thing happens
when I take time for
myself instead of being
everyone's maid,
or when I act a little selfish.

It means I have the courage and strength
to allow myself to be who I
truly am and won't become anyone
else's idea of what they think I
"should" be.

I am outspoken, opinionated and determined.
I want what I want and there is nothing
wrong with that!

So try to stomp on me,
try to douse my inner flame,
try to squash every ounce of
beauty I hold
within me.

You won't succeed.

And if that makes me a bitch ,
so be it.

I embrace the title and
am proud to bear it.

B - Babe
I - In
T - Total
C - Control of
H - Herself

B = Beautiful
I = Intelligent
T = Talented
C = Charming
H = Hell of a Woman

B = Beautiful
I = Individual
T = That
C = Can
H = Handle anything

Stevie, we hardly knew ye

2006-09-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Early this morning, Steve Irwin, popularly known as the Crocodile Hunter, died as a result of injury sustained in a close encounter with a stingray off Australia's Great Barrier Reef. He died while filming a documentary on the great creatures, having come too close to one and agitating it, causing it to whip out with it's tail and catch him under the rib cage with the sharp, poisonous barb at the end of it's tail. He died of a massive puncture wound to his heart.

Granted, this was a freak accident, one which no one would have predicted, but it makes me ask again, what is it in the souls of some folks that makes them NEED life on the edge? Why do they thirst for the kind of excitement that would stop the hearts of most of the people I know? I would no sooner leap on the back of a 10' crocodile than I would jump from a moving train. Yet there are those whose lives are nothing without the adrenaline rush of cheating death.

Sorry, Steve, this time you didn't cheat it, you played right into it's hands. I hope it was worth it. If I believed in a hereafter I might take comfort in believing you had gone on to something greater. Instead I think of your widow and your fatherless little children, and all I can feel is "What a waste..."

Vacation - the sequel

2006-09-02T06:16:00.000-07:00

Yes, I have decided to take a few days off work. I am going to spend some time with my mother, cleaning her house and trying to convince her to move closer to me, and I am also going to spend some time cleaning my own house and trying to convince myself to move closer to myself. Now that may seem like a lot of doubletalk, but there is a thread of sanity in what I am saying. I have allowed my own direction to drift, shying away from realities that are painful. In the process of this drift, I have lost much of my ability to create coherent, readable text. It's strange in a way, that in my drive to protect myself I have removed one of the few real means I have of expressing my thoughts, my passions. The proof of this is in the fact that I have been seated here for at least 20 minutes and have been able to produce 7 fairly simple sentences, none of which address anything threatening, and almost all of which have been edited to remove any feeling. And now, I have to run off yet again, because my time is not my own.

Have you ever felt like you were drowning?

The best laid plans of mice and men...

2006-07-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

...and all the rest of that stuff. The past couple of months have been a real trip. I did get an education, though. I got to learn what a "bilateral meniscal tear" means. Seems as we age, the cartilage in our knees gets weaker and less stable, and is more prone to injury. I managed to tear both the medial and lateral menisci (for those of you who just ADORE all the medical chatter and hypochondriacal mumbo-jumbo), as well as having made hamburger of the back of my kneecap over the years. And to add icing to the cake, this was my GOOD knee we are talking about.

Anyway, long story short - X-ray, Bledsoe Brace locked at 40 degrees, painkillers, MRI, blood tests, arthroscopic knee surgery, painkillers, Physical therapy, pain killers, stationary bike work for the rest of my life, Synvisc, pain killers - I'm all set! It's great to be 50!

Now I have a question to ask anyone who is still reading:

What is the burden of responsibility on any given individual for assuring that someone else's happiness is intact? If you are married? If you are a family member? If you are merely an acquaintance?

Now how about if that individual is mentally ill, whether gravely or high-functioning? Does it make a difference? What if you married them when you had no idea how deep their dysfunction went?

Thanks for visiting.

She's Baaaaaaack....

2006-05-13T05:52:00.000-07:00

Yes, I decided to come back. Aren't we all lucky. It's been a rather rough last six months, dealing with chronic anemia, menopause, and the really big one...my somewhat unstable personality. I am going to attempt now to limit these posts to subjects of some substance and consequence. I have been reading a few blogs over the past year, and one in particular really makes my day. No, of course I am not going to say whose, to do that would burst everyone else's bubble. Just suffice to say that it's spring. I like the world at the moment. Be happy.

I will post when I have formulated my thoughts a bit better, and the chores at my mother's house have been completed. Funny how caring for an elderly parent takes up so much of our time these days. I guess it's all worth it, after all, she did do a lot for me when I needed it. That's what friends are for.

Can you say "bipolar"?

2005-10-12T13:56:00.000-07:00

I'm really starting to think I am bipolar. I just read the last two posts I have entered, and juxtaposed against each other they paint an ugly picture. Can I blame this on latent menopause? I certainly hope so, otherwise I may wind up making some pharmaceutical manufacturer very happy.

The worst part is, it's all such a lie...

2005-10-10T01:00:00.000-07:00

I have had a difficult evening tonight. Lots of revelations, many of them very uncomfortable. Just to enumerate:

I am very lonely most of the time.

There are only two people outside of my immediate birth family that I have allowed to know the real me. One of them has been my friend since we were 11, the other I have known for about 3 and 1/2 years. I keep everyone, including my children, at arms length. I trust almost no one.

The one I trust the least is myself.

I don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life, all I know is that I want it to have more meaning than the first 49 years.

I am terrified that I am the only one who doesn't really see, or rather, won't admit, what a fake I am.

I am not convinced that I really know how to love anyone.

I feel very alone tonight, and I think I want to stay alone, because alone you don't get hurt.

I wish I were the sort of person that my children would want to emulate, but I realize that I have not done anything to deserve that sort of admiration.

I am lost, and I don't know how to be found.

Much to be thankful for

2005-09-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

I am a happy woman. I have wonderful kids. I have a good job. I love a wonderful man. Yes, we have had some tough times in the past couple of years, but nevertheless, it is still so very worth the effort. I am not sure he even understands all the wonderful things about him that make me love him so. For instance, on Valentines Day, most guys will give their significant other candy or roses or diamonds or something like that. My love gave me a Tedy Bruschi (Patriots) tee shirt. Now that's love, if you know me, because I am a Patriots fanatic. I am fat and frumpy and rather odd, but he thinks I am beautiful and likes the fact that I can laugh at myself. He has taken the time to get to know who I am, and that is something that inspires awe within me, because every other man I have ever known was wrapped up in the hope that I would understand what made him tick, and forget that I would rather get a cigar band from him on my birthday and not some phony token of false sentiment on a made-up holiday. My love is a man of principle, and that is something I respect. I could not love someone I do not respect. He is kind and giving, and perhaps his only flaw is that he is too willing to give others the benefit of the doubt, which sometimes makes it harder for him to be good to himself.

I just feel like smiling right now. Life is good. Now I have to get back to the game. Halftime is sooo over....

Sometimes all you feel is pain...

2005-08-12T08:33:00.000-07:00

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.

Repost this if you believe homophobia is wrong.

Blogging as Guising

2005-06-24T12:15:00.000-07:00

I have become familiar with the practice of “guising” – assuming an identity other than that which one is commonly associated, for the purpose of exploring the inner workings of the mind and soul – through some of the work my daughter has been doing. I understand the concept, and am sometimes disturbed by the forms this may take. For instance, she is a sweet and gentle young woman, who engaged in an exercise in which she was a heinous creature that annoyed the people around her with snide comments, personal attacks (poking, teasing, intimidating expressions) and rude behavior. This was all carried out at a costume party, and her outfit was so effective and concealing that the only person who knew her identity was the conspirator who helped her dress. At the end of the party people went their ways, shaking their heads at the odd experience they had had, wondering where their sweet friend was and why she was not there. No one thought she had it in her to take on such a transformed persona, and those who found out her identity were astonished.

Several years ago I started a blog under an identity which was unlike my everyday face. I was a trashy, slutty girl in her late 20s who wrote of random encounters with strangers in bars, one night stands and drunken orgies. I described encounters with multiple partners (simultaneously), bisexual encounters, deviant practices and life on the edge. I developed quite a following of men who wanted to meet me, young studs anxious for a chance at the goods. I tormented them unmercifully with lewd suggestions and promises of wanton sexual abandon. I used the poor saps to make myself feel desirable and vital, while in my real life I was in turmoil. My marriage was ending, I was feeling useless and full of self-doubt, and I wanted to make someone, ANYONE want me. I didn’t care about the character of the men I attracted. I was desperate to prove to myself that I had some sexual attractiveness about me, and I didn’t care how I used anyone in order to achieve some level of self-gratification. I was a sad and pathetic middle-aged woman striving for her identity in a world that fostered anonymity. I am happy to report that I have since calmed the restless spirit within, due in large part to being loved by a wonderful man for a long enough period of time that it made me realize that it wasn’t all my failing that made my marriage crumble. There were enough roadblocks and timebombs in that union to make any rational person run screaming.

Blogging can become a vehicle for unmasking the psyche, for removing the curse of familiarity from communication and creating a space where the mind and will can run free. I have seen the comments posted by some people I have known for some time, and the freedom that they exhibit in their remarks is uncharacteristic. I have seen anger, aggression, lust, sorrow and depression in the words of my friends, expressed to the world in a medium which affords anonymity and safety. The things that are impossible for them to express in their daily lives are freely vented to the world in a forum that will neither judge nor criticize them for their weakness, their perversion, their humanity. I am surprised sometimes at the intensity of their emotion. The hostility and pent up frustration of one comes out as a cynical and biting wit, which tears the heads off of lesser individuals. Another has two blogs, one for family and friends in which he reports news of the family, the job, the weather, the house, and the other in which he describes his sexual fantasies and his longing to bed willing lovelies with huge breasts and throbbing genitalia. I wonder if my knowledge of their alter-egos has changed the tenor of their writing? Have they abridged their ranting because they are aware that there is someone about who is privy to their true identities? I sincerely hope not, as I have no intention of attenuating my growth through the self-discovery that this blog will allow me. It is entirely possible that through the use of words, lives may be changed permanently, and hopefully for the better.

Of course, some people who blog are simply perverts and egomaniacs. Go figure.

Loneliness

2005-06-20T12:35:00.000-07:00

Being apart and lonely is like rain.
It climbs toward evening from the ocean plains;
from flat places, rolling and remote, it climbs
to heaven, which is its old abode.
And only when leaving heaven drops upon the city.

It rains down on us in those twittering
hours when the streets turn their faces to the dawn,
and when two bodies who have found nothing,
dissapointed and depressed, roll over;
and when two people who despise eachother
have to sleep together in one bed-

that is when loneliness receives the rivers...

- Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Robert Bly

Pain: the universal equalizer

2005-06-18T14:27:00.000-07:00

I have just started to come down from my first identifiable sulfite reaction, and I must say that this has made me feel very humble, indeed. At first I thought it was an MSG reaction, and was about to blame the stuff my friend put on the garlic toast as the culprit. That was, until I spoke with her and she said "All it is is garlic powder". Hmmm......Garlic Powder (heavily preserved with sulfites to prevent discoloration). Shrimp Scampi (shrimp are soaked in a solution of sulfites to keep them from discoloring and to retard growth of micro-organisms). Yellowtail Shiraz - Australian red wine (very tasty. Red wine has natural sulfites from the grape skins, but they also add them as mold retardants to improve the yield).

I have a very dear friend and significant person in my life who is extremely sensitive to sulfites. I have seen him in pain frequently, and I have been able to identify and empathize with his pain because I have been very sensitive to monosodium glutamate for years, and it produces a violent headache accompanied by nausea and light sensitivity, much like a migraine. I have to say, though, that this has been a new one even to me. Not only do I have the pain and nausea, but I also have ringing in my ears, dizziness and cold chills to round out the experience. I don't believe I have ever diminished his suffering in my words or actions, and if I have, I apologize profusely and from deep within my viscera. Last night was hell, pure and simple. At about three this morning all I wanted to do was cut my head off. At the twelve hour mark or so, I noticed that there was a bit of improvement and it's been a steady slide down the pain mountain since. I am anticipating that by the time I hit the 24 hour mark that I will be feeling mostly like myself, at about 10:30 PM.

Many thanks to my friends aspirin and (unsulfured) honey. The aspirin takes the edge off the pain and the honey tends to cut the nausea. I don't know how I'd have gotten through without you. My thanks also go out to my dearest friend and sweet one for the knowledge he has given me regarding this malady, so I wouldn't have to think I was having a stroke. If I could take your pain away, I would. Nobody should have to feel like that ever.

*Sigh* Perhaps I will get over to my mother's house next weekend.......

More ramblings

2005-06-13T11:17:00.000-07:00

I know a lot of people. I have been a collector of friends and acquaintances for as long as I can remember. I have some very special, very important friends in my life. When one of them hurts, I do what I can to help them out of their pain. I love my people.
Right now, I can think of at least four who are going through various sorts of anguish, from the woman suffering the mental distress of being insignificant to her spouse, to the son who is losing his father in his battle with cancer. In every one of these situations, the feeling is the same: helplessness. She can't make her husband see how his indifference to her hurts; that would mean that she would have to confront the possibility of acknowledging that her situation is hopeless and she would have to decide whether to accept his passive neglect or get out. Neither one is acceptable to her in her current state. She goes on in denial, trying her best to cope with a loveless marriage. The son has to watch his parents make their decisions on treatment options, knowing full well that the extent of the good may be simply to slow the progress of the disease and give the dad a few more months in which to get his affairs in order. He has to watch from the sidelines and hope for the best, hope for a miracle.
When do we decide when it's time to let go and keep moving forward with our lives? It is different for every human on the face of the earth. My mother still waits, after 43 years, for the doctor to say he was only kidding, that my sister is not really dead, that she was part of the witness protection program and that the gangster from whom she was being protected (and his entire family) is dead and she can come out of hiding. My mother is 88 and sometimes that is all that keeps her going. She had to face my father's death (she found him) and my brother's as well. Rather than resigning her to the fact that everyone dies, it has strengthened her resolve to fight death with every ounce of vigor she has left in her frail old body. She weeps at her insufficiencies when she can't keep a cat alive who has leukemia, or the dog that is ancient and white eyed and wants to be out of his pain. She tortures herself with the "knowledge" that she is not good enough, has not tried hard enough, has let them all down. I want to scream at her that she is not God. No one is. There is no God.

There is a time and a place to let go and resign yourself to the way of fate. I am my mother's daughter in more ways than I care to acknowledge at this particular moment.

When good enough is not good enough

2005-05-25T06:10:00.000-07:00

My sister said something to me the other day that was very wise. She said "when a person is starving, they will eat whatever is available. The moldy bread is preferable to the rotting meat, so after a while, the smell of moldy bread becomes familiar and actually starts to be a sign of things not being so bad. They lose sight of the fact that moldy bread is still moldy bread, not the fresh, wholesome food that the rest of the world is eating. Good enough becomes the norm."

Good enough isn't good enough. Good enough is what the flagging hearts of this world are using for subsistence. Good enough is fatal to the soul. Good enough makes us begin to believe that we can never have any better. Good enough is slow death.

My late father-in-law once told his son "Before you marry a woman, get her good and mad at you. That will tell you a lot about her character". I suppose he had a point there. What people do when they are angry tells you what their insecurities are, what their disposition can be like, what matters to them and what bombs they are willing to drop on you in the heat of a fight. There are other moods that can spell out a person's character in the same way: excitement, sadness, fear. FEAR Fear of the known, fear of the potential loss of emotional connection, fear of the loss of earthly possessions. Fear supposedly tells more about a person than anything. Personally, when I am afraid, I extend my talons and prepare to strike at the source of my panic. I have been wounded in the past, and the default is a defensive posture. I am sure I have hurt the ones I love by my reactions. I will not shy away from this, nor will I try to make excuses. I am what I am. Some folks will suddenly become the salt of the earth and be ultra-sweet because they know that they have done something to incite the ire of those that have instilled the fear. I don't think it is wise to judge a person by their fear reactions, because they are usually not the mode in which people operate most of the time. No, I think for the sake of every humans' sanity, they need to evaluate others based on one main criterion:

EVERYDAY BEHAVIOR

They say that if a person is nice to his friends but nasty to the waiter, that the person in question is not a nice person. The same goes for the person who turns a pleasant fact to the public and then goes home and beats his wife. The customers with whom he interacts in his day to day life may think he is a gentleman, but his wife knows better. Why she stays, well, that probably goes back to the moldy bread. She looks forward to the days when he doesn't beat her as the sweet, desirable blue crust that sustains her life. She can go along very well subsisting on this diet of filth as long as the rotting meat is only thrown at her at rare intervals. What happens when the day comes that she sees a loaf of fresh, hot, succulent oatmeal bread sitting on a cutting board, ready to be eaten? She realizes that maybe there is more to life than that moldy bread and her world is changed forever. The confusion and pain this brings is incalculable, and produces an agony that is sometimes unbearable. Would she be better off never knowing that fresh bread exists? Will she be able to survive with her diet of rot when she knows that the alternative will change her existence forever? Sometimes starvation seems like the only option. If I had the power to change the world, I would give every trapped soul the strength to reach for the loaf of fresh bread and turn their back on the rot.

But that's just me...

I'd like that melancholia with a side of fries, please...

2005-05-18T11:17:00.000-07:00

People of my genetic heritage should never, ever drink alcohol, I suspect. It does things to our personalities that make us incapable of rational thought and robs us of discretion. My grandfather was an old Swede who couldn't handle his liquor. He would go out to the bar after work on a payday and come home stinking of whiskey with empty pockets. More times than she cared to count my grandmother wept and cowered as he railed against her in his embarrassment and humiliation at having let his family down yet again. Ironically, his response to the neglect and abuse of his family caused by his systemic intolerance to alcohol was to abuse and neglect them further in his daily behavior. He had no ablilty to compensate for his shortcomings in any manner other than to compound the mistakes with more bad behavior. His lack of compassion coupled with his generally mysogynistic nature produced a truly wretched and loathesome individual.
My mother was raised with the understanding that she was to respect her elders because they were her elders. Nothing more than that. Do as I say, not as I do. Her intellect and her abililty to understand human nature at a very early age did nothing to comfort her. When the mothers got together to discuss the usual gossip and juicy tidbits, she was regaled with the story of how her own mother had attempted in vain to abort her unborn child. This incident occurred when my mom was maybe 4 years old, and it has followed her throughout her life. Her mother, and indeed any of the women present, had no idea that such a small child would pay any attention to the words of adults, and would not understand them even if they did hear. The horror that registered within her upon the understanding that her mother was attempting to rid herself of her very existence shook her to the core and caused her to grow contrite and withdrawn. She set out to become the perfect child, to prove that she was worthwhile and not something to be eradicated.
It's odd, the effect of knowing you're unwanted has on your life. You apologize for your existence. You try to make up for your shortcomings by being better than a normal person, more giving, more willing to accept poor treatment, more prepared to compensate for others' shortcomings by doing more than your fair share. Such is the life my mom led, such is the example set for her children. No wonder we all have the problems we have.

Expectations 101 Lesson #2: What they never told you while you were growing up

2005-05-16T16:35:00.000-07:00

People have different reasons for entering relationships and marriages. Some marry for love, some for escape, some for sex, some for all these reasons. To make matters even more complicated, even the definitions of each of these terms vary from individual to individual. Love for instance. Ah, there's a term that will ignite more controversy than a lot of other less "subjective" words. What is love? To some, it's that rosy feeling you get immediately following a rousing session of blissful coitus. To others it's that dreary sense of commitment to a person or an ideal that, even though you don't know why you feel obliged to sell your heart and soul down the river to someone who doesn't return the favor, you still feel that it is your sworn duty to be there for them, no matter what, even at the expense of your own humanity(please forgive the run on sentence, this is stream of consciousness. Work with me, for crying out loud).

Someone very wise said a very wise thing to me today. He said "The answers to life's questions cannot be read in the pages of a book. If this were the case then any five year old could find them. Nor can someone tell you the answers because no two minds are identical". This came from the mind of a 22 year old, but it is so true it makes me ache inside. In this world of pop psychology and quick fixes for everything, we lose sight of the fact that building a better human is hard work. We strive to be more than we are, sometimes reaching for an unattainable goal, only to find out that the person we struggle so hard to be isn't really who we were meant to be after all. When we try to change our basic nature to fit the definition that someone else has set, we tread on dangerous ground. We are risking the integrity of our very souls by striving to alter the texture of our personalities. When one's spouse or significant other becomes someone to whom we cannot relate, is it because they have changed, or have we changed? Or maybe is it because we have stopped lying to ourselves and come to face the fact that the ones we have committed ourselves to are not the persons we thought them to be? Is it perhaps better, then, to admit defeat in the face of insurmountable odds and try to salvage what is left of a friendship and allow the wreckage of the marriage (or whatever it is) to sink to the bottom of that metaphorical ocean, secure in the knowledge that we have cut short a sentence in durance vile?

Life wasn't ever meant to be so complicated, methinks. It was supposed to be shorter than it is today, and one of struggle against the elements and the odds. We chose partners based on their general health and heartiness, not on their philosophical bent. We worked the land, side by side, and struggled to raise a family to adulthood so they could work the land after we had died at the ripe old age of 45. If we hated each other, we didn't have long to endure it, because we faded away before we could become homicidal. I believe that in these modern times, marriage isn't meant to last a lifetime. It lasts as long as we can maintain the fantasy, which sometimes turns out to be a far shorter time than we ever expected.

I wonder if he knows...

2005-05-12T10:23:00.000-07:00

...that I think about him in the quiet moments between twilight and dark?
...that his smile can brighten even my darkest day?
...that the sound of his voice rings in my ears like the sweetest music ever created?
...that I would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING he ever asked of me, because I trust him to never want me to do anything that would cause harm?
...that his happiness is often more important to me than my own?
...that his presence in my life has made me feel far richer than I ever felt before in my life?
...that if I had the last few years to do over, I would not change a thing about our relationship, except perhaps to be more patient and understanding?
...that nothing he has ever done has hurt me, indeed that I doubt he would ever hurt me in his life?
...that I fear that I have hurt him.
...that I wish I could be a better partner for him, more understanding, more even-tempered, more stable?
...that no matter what, I will be here, waiting for him?
...how much I am going to miss him........

Expectations 101

2005-05-06T12:40:00.000-07:00

It's funny how most of these inspirations come to me in the shower. I will be all soapy and pseudo-relaxed and suddenly an epiphany hits and I feel the burning need to write it down. I was supposed to take a vacation day today, but things snafu'd as they often do, so I have to leave soon, but I just needed to put some of these thoughts down before I do.

When you walk down the aisle with your dearly beloved, you think that nothing in the world could burst the happy little bubble that you have created, this wonderful little sphere of love and committment that is shared by two and two alone. Nothing could destroy this wonderful bond. That is, if you married for the "right" reasons. You have found the perfect person who will share the dark nights with you, who will drive away the demons, who will celebrate your victories and comfort you in your defeats, and vice versa. Nothing could upset your bliss.

That's what you THINK. Then one morning you wake up and he's not in bed beside you. You hear thumping sounds from the kitchen and go to investigate. He's up on a chair, with the broom, sweeping away invisible cobwebs from the ceiling. He looks down at you with contempt and says "I really don't see how you can live with these THINGS all over the place! And look at the pile of dishes! It's been there for days! How can you be such a slob?!?!?"

You look over at the sink and the three glasses and a spoon that have been there since last night, and think "what's he talking about?".

Ah, yes, the divergence of expectations has begun already. It's not enough to find yourself someone who is steady and dependable, loving and attentive (at least before the wedding). In order to find true wedded bliss you must look to THE MOTHER FIGURE. She is the keystone to your partner's personality, be that partner male OR female. A mother figure need not be an actual mother, either. A mother figure is simply a primary caregiver in that vital, formative period when an individual's personality is pliable and receptive. Have the good fortune to be raised by a strong, self-possessed, compassionate man, and you stand an excellent chance of being a strong, self-possessed compassionate adult. Have the bad luck to be raised by a neurotic, controlling, self-absorbed maiden aunt and you will probably be a psychological soup of self-doubt and recriminations. The list of possibilities is endless, and so is the assortment of resulting effects on the kids brought up by the lot of them.

When I was growing up, my mother always deferred to my father. She made no waves, and always sought the diplomatic, though not always most self serving end. She was a master of self-effacement and peacekeeping. She was also a hermit and a bookworm. I now have problems being direct in my work atmosphere and especially in my private life. The fact that my husband was raised by a controlling autocrat who was always right never occurred to me as a problem. In many ways, in the early days of our marriage he acted a lot like my father. I thought that was the way it was supposed to be until I found myself resenting him for the very thing that brought me to him. I didn't even have the courage to tell him I wanted to leave him for several years. It took a violent upheaval of emotion to allow me to finally articulate that I was not happy, had not been for many years, and wanted out. He was completely blindsided. He had no idea that anything was wrong, because in his world, controversy and bickering were a way of life. He thought it didn't bother me that he criticized and nagged at me because I never complained. I didn't complain because I was afraid to complain. I thought I would wind up out on the street without my kids or a penny to my name. The turning point came when I realized that my kids were grown and I had a good job and could support myself. It was then that I decided that I needed a life.

I still say, though, be careful what you invest in as far as a marriage partner. What you see in the mother is most times what you get in the offspring, and that can be either wonderful or very, very disappointing.

I got them old "alpha bitch whose been displaced, don't wanna go but they're showing me the door...

2005-05-03T13:48:00.000-07:00

...leaving in disgrace, don't wanna feel like this anymore.....but I gots to go..." old time downhearted walkin' blues........

Nuff said.

Communication Breakdown...

2005-05-02T10:22:00.000-07:00

I was having a conversation with someone last night, and it was all going quite fine until we reached one sticking point. That point seemed to be that I was asked a question and answered what I thought the question was in as good a way as I was capable at the time. This led to a lengthy diatribe on the part of the other individual about how I was being "evasive", how that's what I always do, and how insulting and demeaning it is. Granted, in the past I have been evasive as a means of self-protection, but this issue required no shielding, no protection. Even if I were being evasive these days, this topic would have been so far under the radar as to be embarassing. The effect all of this had on me was really quite astounding. I started out feeling bewildered, and when the assertion continued that I was being evasive and difficult, I started to get angry. Of course, once anger enters the equation, all reason and significant progress goes out the window.
Now it seems evident that the expectation is that the burden of effort will lie with me as far as accommodating and making the improvements. A simple query of "Excuse me, what question are you answering here, because that wasn't what I asked" could have short circuited all of the shouting and bad feelings, but was not even considered. Yes, I realize that it takes two people to make an argument, and yes, I realize that each party is typically responsible for no more than 50% of the problem. However, I am left with the distinct feeling that the other party considers me to be completely in the wrong, and the only one who must evaluate and change behavior. This leaves me feeling empty and cold, and dissatisfaction is the mildest of terms that can be applied to the whole scenario. I think the more accurate description would be disgusted
disgruntled
angry
disillusioned
dazed and confused
SEARCHING FOR THE ESCAPE HATCH

And I don't know what to do about it other than to either watch like a hawk everything that comes out of my mouth where this person is considered, or suspend all communications. What would you do?

Don't mind me...

2005-04-26T14:30:00.000-07:00

...but I feel a rant coming.

I am a creature of extremes. I love, I hate, I burn, I freeze. I can't sit idly by and watch the unacceptable happen, I have to get up and do something about it. It doesn't even matter if it is real or imagined, I still can't stand things that don't fall within my framework (oh, I hate that word) of acceptability. Let me explain:
I was sitting today having a lovely lunch with my significant other, and he said something that got me upset, and I flared. Oh wait, actually, he responded to a question I asked, not even his thought pattern to blame here, a perfectly honest and innocuous answer to a direct question. I wanted to know about the time frame of an event that had taken place long ago, and it turns out that it was during a mutually difficult period of our lives. That changed my entire perception of the situation, and I instantly grew angry and cold. No warning, I just shut down. This event occurred in a time when we were both seeking answers, and it has little significance to who we are today, as far as I can tell. It isn't even the event that had me upset, it was the fact that I felt powerless to control the outcome. As it turns out, there is nothing to fear, nothing to be retroactively anxious about, nothing that directly affects our relationship. It was the fact that I felt excluded. I felt like I was running a race I had no hope of winning, fighting a fight against insurmountable odds, trying to defeat a foe who can change form and shape at their whim, and I am incapable of rising to the challenge. To borrow a phrase from somebody in some movie "I got nothin'".

So here you have me, a blowtorch seeking both a flint and an extinguisher, and my S.O., a hapless victim caught in the tidal wave of my emotional storm because I couldn't have gotten there first in everything and been his be-all and end-all. I am, sadly enough, simply human. Somehow I feel like I have to be the originator, the one and only, the perfect answer to all his prayers. If I am not, I wind up feeling like I have been cheated out of something. I feel like I will not be good enough when held up in comparison to his past life. I have no faith in myself.

I cannot blame him and get angry at him for my own internal problems and shortcomings. This is not his war to fight, it is mine. I just wish I could figure out why I feel so substandard and useless.

2005-04-25T11:17:00.000-07:00

...

A somewhat acid palate with an amusing nose...

2005-04-24T06:03:00.000-07:00

This is what Astro.com dropped on me last night for today:

Some in-depth research might prove enlightening today, XXXXXXX. Fascinating new books may be brought to your attention. You may want to share what you've learned with your love partner, and a long and intense conversation could be the result. Intellectual compatibility could lead to physical desire, so make sure you look your best. Follow your discussion with a great dinner at your favorite restaurant, and enjoy!

Normally I would just delete the entry and be on my way, but I stopped for a bit to reflect on the state of my situation with my "love partner". Sometimes it seems that we are farther from the goal now than we were even when we met. LIfe has impinged upon our sweet little coccoon to rend and tear at us, just the way it rends and tears at the hopes and dreams of so many who are burdened with responsibilities that run at cross purposes to our hopes and dreams. "OK, that was a sweet dream, but it's time to wake up and smell the coffee". Your wife is on the phone and she's pissed that the sink is stopped up, and apparently she doesn't know how to use a plunger or Drano. Or how about "Your husband is not really responsible for hurting you ten thousand different ways because he was raised by a controlling mother who didn't show him any affection, so even though he pretended to be someone he was not while you were dating and has allowed the demons to surface all over you, you have to carry on and act like everything is just fine because that's your job..."

When I was growing up, I had a dreamy and rosy image of what relationships were meant to be. This warm-fuzzy impression of the world of love and romance was fostered by the tripe they feed adolescent girls/women in our society. Between the roles played by Marie Claire and Vogue magazines promoting flirtation and sex, and the pressures of society and church to be "good girls" we were supposed to be at once vampish and virginal. This dichotomy has led to mass confusion, bulimia and anorexia, and the plethora of "bitchy older women" that riddle our society. We are supposed to be available and attractive to our men, no matter what they present as, and we are supposed to believe that if we only get the right haircut, use the right makeup and toiletries and dress fashionably that we will find and keep the man of our dreams. It's all crap. There is no such thing as the man of our dreams, just a collection of bruised and battered individuals out there who are suffering just as much as we are. Oh, and don't believe the "jaded bitches" club when they say that the men have all the advantages and that women are set up to suffer, because the men get shafted by our culture in different, but no less damaging, ways from the women. In reality, we all suck, we are all sick, and we are all unhappy. I am starting to think that we have no one to blame, because we would have to blame everyone.

Anyway, I am not entirely sure where this was headed. I was just venting.

Go easy with me, it's my first time...

2005-04-23T23:47:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to me....oh wait, not me, my blog. It was born just a few minutes ago. I know that I will never come anywhere close to matching the intellectual contributions of some of the folks I have been observing, but then, I never really thought I needed to. I think it will suffice to just put some of the more persistent thought threads here, and maybe that will give me a bit more perspective on life. Then again, maybe not....