Monday, February 27, 2012

Imperfect present.

Ok, so one episode of Being Human, the UK version. Then sleep. No solitaire? Shouldn't.

Fisher will be here Thursday evening. I really want to call him by his real name, but I can't do that here. One day, when I die my dearest friend will let all know that this is my blog. Only have I'm dead, dear friend.

Wasn't very productive today. Tomorrow I need to get up earlier than usual to take care of a few things before work. I hate having to do that. Hopefully tomorrow at work I can overlap work and internship work.

Getting better at relaxing. Unfortunately with relaxing seems to be a tag-a-long of procrastination. Hoping for a better future and ignoring the imperfect present.

Friday, February 24, 2012

You put the Order in the Chaos

Remember: Help me fight the evil bank that charges me $12 a month for not having direct deposit by clicking an ad. All you have to do is click and close the window. Thank you.

Twelve weeks of class left. First substantial test next week in my travel class. I think I’ll do fine.

I’m supposed to carry around a calendar to keep all of the stuff/ to do’s in my life organized. Just not there. Tried. Failed.

So, I have slips of paper stuck in my wallet that list appointments. Notes jotted down inside notebooks. And doing my best to remember when I have to what and when.

In a few days I’ll attempt to do my own industrial ear piercing. I had it done almost 10 years ago, but I had to take out for the medical assisting course. Even though that didn’t last that long, I wasn’t able to put it back in. Then I got a job at a chi-chi hotel and the only facial piercing we could have were pierced ears. I can’t even remember if guys were allowed to have pierced ears.

Regardless, now that my hair is long and covers my ears, I want my industrial back. The original was unique- a double industrial. Double industrial, three nose rings on the same side. That’s what happens when a bleeding heart liberals lives in conservative-ville. I strike out and make myself even more different. I’ll see your brown polo shirts and raise you piercings!

In other news, every since by my dad’s mom died in 2006, I’ve been having reoccurring dreams about one of my cousins and his dad’s farm. Six years later I’m still having them.

After Granny died I sent my cousin a letter saying that I felt sad about the fact that the next and no doubt last time I would see him would be our grandmother’s funeral. Our grandmother passed away in December of 2009. I saw him at the funeral he gave me a hug, but with so many people around and it being our grandmother’s funeral there wasn’t a chance to talk.

I spent a lot of time at my uncle’s farm and idolized my cousin. I was four or five and was absolutely in love with him, in that way that a four or five year can be. The highlight of our time together was when he took me for a ride on his dirt bike. I was such a tomboy, climbing trees, hiking in the woods and playing in streams.

We would play doctor, but it was far from sexual. It was more about who could whom more. There was this wooden bird, like a 70’s style woodpecker and we would see how hard we could hit each other with it on knees, like the reflex hammers.

He had a cousin, not related to me, that I had a great time hanging out. We would hide under the pine trees and just hang out. Once again, nothing sexual.
A few days ago I wrote my cousin another letter that said I’d like to spend some time with him at his dad’s farm. Just us, like forest ninjas. I need to make peace with that time in my life. There was so much going on that I was too young to know about. And there was stuff that I was all too aware about and I would escape the world and create my own in those woods. Imaginary friends, hunting dogs as faithful companions, crossing trees that had fallen over ravines.

I need to go back there and make peace.

The problem is that no one else can know about this journey. It especially can’t get back to my mom. I don’t plan on visiting her on this trip. I want to go to my uncle’s farm and spend some time alone at my grandmother’s grave.

There’s more to story about why my mom can’t know I’m visiting my uncle’s farm, but I’m not feeling like getting into all of that.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Damn the corporations

 Thank you to all of you that are clicking on the ads. Damn Chase bank and all others that charge for me lending them my money. We supply them and they take our money with no return. Maybe I should just keep it all in my sock drawer.

So, please, keep clicking. I get charged $12 a month all because my boss doesn’t do direct deposit.

Very sweet present from Fisher for Valentine’s day- two bamboo plants that form a heart. Perfect. Now to not kill it.

Talked through with my therapist about all the panics attacks I’ve been having. I can’t let my boss’s emotional problem be mine. In time she will make a decision to help herself. Right now she is making her choice, just like I chose to stay with the ex after I found out he cheated on me. There was a benefit to staying and I stayed. The benefit was not personal health, but there were benefits.

Getting out of an abusive relationship should be easier. But that decision to leave has to come from within. Inspired by the strength or support of others, we must make decision.

Just like Fisher and smoking. I want him to stop smoking, but he won’t until he decides that he needs to stop. He was sounding positive when I was down there at the new year. I hope he’s still doing well even under the stress of his job.

So, I will be moving back to College Town to be with Fisher. We need to be together to decide where we (together) head next.

Also working on honoring my past, but not living in it. I miss my grandmother a great deal. It kills me that I won’t see her again. My mom’s mom was one the most real people I’ve ever met. Made it through the depression, raised six kids and left an abusive husband. Read books like they were the air she needed to breathe. Funny, but grounded in German up bringing. Frugal, but incredibly generous to others.

I miss her unconditional love. Born again, but accepting of alternate life-styles and me and my sisters living in sin.

She was strong and brave and survived so many hard times. Not materialistic, but she would pick up trinkets and candy dishes at antique stores to give to us. I look forward to getting my belongings out of storage so that I’m surrounded by physical things that remind me of her.

So many fragmented sentences. I am not a writer. A dabbler that enjoys the process of writing and sharing it with others. To have the opportunity to show myself as an individual.

An individual who is thankful for love of family, friends and Fisher.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Om Mani Padme Hum

Pre-Ps. Here's the deal my bank charges me $12 a month because I don't have direct deposit, please help me out and click on the ad. Thank you.

Truth- I am avoiding most of my emotions. This results in panic attacks and me missing one day of work and one class this week. Waking up, I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t get oxygen, by lungs don’t get air. I am suffocating. And the only thing that makes it better is staying in bed. Under the covers, hold up at base camp.

That’s the metaphor for my life right now. I’m at base camp and there’s this mountain I have to climb. No choice, have to climb mountain. Eventually, I’ll be hauled out against my will and a force will command me to march. I wonder if agreeing to climb, to march will make the journey up the mountain any easier. My choice versus no more time to procrastinate. Yes, it will be worse.

Deadlines will pass, late fees will be charged, and I won’t be prepared for challenges. Now I have time. Not as much time as I had a month ago, but I need to start now. Completing sh*t that needs to be done.

My therapist said that every person with ADHD should have a calendar that never leaves their sight. I’ve tried this. The only time it worked in a way was undergrad and I only used it for my theatre work. For schoolwork, I hoped and occasionally prayed that I wouldn’t forget anything.

Here’s the deal with the calendar, first few days are spent putting in all future stuff of which I’m currently aware.  Appointments that have been made, class schedules copied from the syllabus. Maybe within the first week I’ll put in an update. The first time that an event comes and goes that has not been but in the book, all bets are off. Pitch it in the trash, I will not get back on the horse.

Why can’t I recover?

Mental block? Perfection lost? Disappointment in myself that I can’t keep a calendar updated or pick up where I left off.

Lack of wanting to put in the effort. I don’t want to.

I didn’t want to take the speech class that is technically required, so I dropped it because technically I could. I couldn’t play by my rules, so I quit.

It’s not a matter of it being too hard, although that’s sort of why I dropped my Excel class. It is a matter I have no invested personal interest and therefore if I can get away with not doing it then I will.

This behavior caused a riff in my relationship. Instead of Fisher telling me outright that he wanted me to go see the musical he was, he gave me a choice. He asked if I wanted to go.

It was Annie, he had a supporting role, I was involved with theatre for 20 years, I hate sitting in one place for longer than it takes to eat dinner. If I have to watch a show, I’d like to be in the booth away from people and snacking on cookies or main-lining starbursts or better yet peanut m&m’s.

I didn’t go.

He was very disappointed that I did not want to go to the show to support him and show my support for the theatre company that has caused him to sweat blood.

I’m a little jealous of the theatre company he works for. It sucks up all of his time. We don’t get to talk on a regular basis and when we do, it’s when he 3 minutes between rehearsal and a 10 pm finance meeting.

And after graduation in May, I will move to College Town USA to be with him, to put our relationship first and hope to god that he does the same. I don’t want to move to C.T. USA. A month before graduation I was so happy that I would be leaving that state. Middle America is not for me, even bubble of liberalism that was Middle America University. And now I’m going back.

I can’t predict that he will spend less time as the Artistic Director’s whipping boy. And if he does then I’ll ramp up my search for an out of state job (preferably Austin.)

The stress that inhabits my body is my entire body. My shoulders never relax. Not even when I sleep. I’m incapable of taking deep breaths. Falling asleep takes medication. Waking up is a struggle and causes mental pain. I’m constantly subconsciously always stressing about possible and present occurrences that I no control over.

I used to hold onto the stress and anxiety because I thought that if I let it go, then I would float away. Not kidding. I would have nightmares about it. Gravity switched to off, my floating upwards, nothing to grab a hold of and the silo shaped room has a small window on top and I will float out into nothing. These were my nightmares.

The loss of dad and grandmothers, specifically my mom’s mom haunts me. That is now the subject of nightmares. Seeing my Grandma in my dream- “She’s back, she’s here, she’s not dead,” I shout! I turn to tell my family, but when I look back she’s not there, she never was there. I miss her so much and hope with all my heart, even though in my head I know it’s not true, that I will see her again. How can someone disappear from your life, never to be seen again? I have my memories, but they have less substance than fog. I should be comforted by the memories. But the really good ones are from age 7 and under. I don’t remember what her apartment looked like, the first one I remember. She made bread pudding, had two parakeets and we would walk down to the corner 5 and dime. Maybe the toilet had a pull chain or maybe it didn’t, and I’m frustrated that I don’t remember. The parakeets were hung by a window….

If you’ve gotten this far, then you know that I’m stressing about stuff that doesn’t need to be stressed about.

My boyfriend (whom I pined over for 16 years) loves me and in a few short (4) months we will live together.
All things considered I have my health, I at least have a support system that would pay for my health if it got bad.
I have two wonderful awesome sisters that are there when I need them. Who will be beside me for the next catastrophe.
I have an amazing dog, who at the age of 11 and a ½ plays like a puppy.
One cat that loves to snuggle, gives nose kisses and will stand on his back legs to give me a hug when I ask.
Another cat that has been with me for the last 14 years making every empty apartment and new city feel like home.
A mom who shows me why it’s important for me to accept the fact that I need to take anti-depressants. I will be not be stigmatized or ignore my depression. My cat needs insulin to feel good, I need my medications.

Even after all that my shoulders are still up to my ears.

I ask of myself, to know the difference between those things that I can change and those that I can’t. For those that I can’t I will let them go and float out the window at the top of the silo. I will stay grounded with the help of my own volition and the love I receive.

Om Mani Padme Hum