"the inner tapes of my parents"

4/25/15

I'm old school.
I want them to be there early
I want them to go to bed on time
I enforce boundaries
I make them clean up
I tell them not to spend time with people who don't make them feel good.
I tell them of their worth
I tell them I love them
I tell them to leave a situation that is uncomfortable
I tell them to love each other
I cuddle
I have dance parties
I save their art work
I have no tolerance for bad manners
I make them do it themselves
I am the bad cop
I tell them to sit up
I make them ask to be excused from the table
I limit sugar
I tell them I'm proud of them
I take pictures
I love when they climb in my bed in the middle of the night
I make them bathe
I get loud
I spank
I have regret
I am a different parent than I thought I'd be
I am exhausted
I go to therapy
I am trying

10 mins to write a poem.

Yesterday I wrote of our how close I felt to you.
How you never let me down.
I felt vulnerable and seen.
Today, you are so damn cold.
I woke up and you made sure I knew...
You were warm to me, then you freeze me out.
I don't understand.
Do you want to prove that you're unpredictable?
That no one can really count on you?
Well, I knew that. Everyone knows that.
I moved away from you.
I couldn't stand being scared night after night...
wondering what you would do.
I knew that at any time, you could rip everything away...
You could beat up my car...break down the walls in my house...
I lived in fear every time I could see you getting that dark look.
So, I moved away. I went where your angry hand couldn't reach me.
Now, you're just cold...and you show'd me again just how cold you can be...
You can cover the things I love...making them cold and icy...
But I'll know that this is nothing compared to what you can do.

4-23-15
Spring in upstate ny (instead of western kansas)

I am procrastinating...and I can't anymore.

I over book my interests
I want everything in my mind to be worked on...right now.
I am tired...exhausted at night...wanting to just to lay down and veg.
nothing gets done.
How do people do it?
I'm trying to get back in to shape.
Every part of my body hurts. That's good.
I'm trying to organize my cluttered house.
I'm trying to help others who need my help...whether they do or not.
I'm putting off the writing I should be doing out of fear.
I'm desperately trying not to fuck up my daughters
I am trying to support my husband.
I am not doing a very good job with myself.
Everything is outside my body. I can't get inside.
I am afraid.
I have a vision...I need it to measure up.
What if it doesn't??
I will lose the idea I've had about myself my entire life.
Then...what will I do then?
I'm not sure I could live with that.
It scares me...the idea of being average.
Of not making an impact.
Of not making a difference.
Of disappearing.

But I'm trying. That's all I can do.
I'm on the edge of doing...I'm out of the chair...I'm looking over the edge.
JUMP!!!
Fuck...that's a long way down...that's going to take a while
It takes a while of doing something before you realize you either should or shouldn't be doing it anymore.

It's all I have. It's all that has made me feel as if I'm special.
My brain...it's workings...it's meant for something.
My heart...it's ability to feel so much more than I feel it was intended to.
I am wrecked daily by someone else's story.
My heart breaks...
I can only hope that it breaks open enough to spill out words on a page.
Words that will affect and change and help other hearts grow.
The world is so ignorant.
It's evil and cruel.
I have to create something that my daughters can cling to.
"This is what she wrote...what she completed...and it says so much. This was who she was."
And they'll always have it...and will always feel them with them.
That's why I need to do it.

circle of friends...

Having a day that I don't feel like explaining. A day where your feelings are yours...and voicing them won't make sense. As if there aren't words that could ever explain it. There could be many reasons for this...

I'm still reeling over my long weekend with friends...the conversations, the tears, the laughter, the feelings of love.

My mom and sister just left...my mom after 6 weeks...my sister, after we finally had some time to ourselves over a course of days. (who knows when that will happen again.)

I'm just exhausted.

I have too many things I want to do and I can't put them in order...and I am overwhelmed by the thought of losing the inspiration to do them.

I am, once again, feeling like a sponge for other peoples' anxiety...taking on their mental dump they  just had over the phone. 

Here's the thing. Friends are important. Their influence in my life has been extraordinary. I look back at some of the times I've had and am amazed that I have the same friends since grade school. I'm a difficult person. It takes a lot of listening and squinting. (squinting and shaking of the head...maybe just inside)

But friendships evolve and change. And sadly, I now believe they have their seasons. A close friend in your 20s does not mean you will be close in your 40s. That pains me. I don't like to see people slip away. But, after a while, conversations become too difficult. Your thought patterns just don't jive. We all change. I've been lucky to have so many that I feel I can learn from. I know when they are guarded on the phone. I know when they are just off...and they can't talk about it. I don't think they know I know...and it seems awkward to mention it.

I'm changing a lot. Especially this year. My insides need cleaned out. Right now the dust is flying and all of the drawers are poured out--it's somewhat a mess. But...at least it's not pristine--with all of my demons hiding under the carpet or the bed...or in a locked drawer. It's hard to find friends that aren't phased by my mess--but I have them.

Just wish we could spend more time.

Quick Best Pic Oscar post.

American Sniper--just not good. for many reasons. mostly because clint didn't do his job.

Birdman- VERY good. hoping it gets the love it deserves.

Boyhood- Good, but not for everyone. Long. very real life...it's not for the typical hollywood blockbuster movie goer.

The Grand Budapest Hotel- hilarious. beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. well thought out and executed.

The Imitation Game- good viewing...acting was okay. Benedict was pretty good. Not sure why Keira was nominated.

Selma-- I learned something. so, that's a good thing. It was average. Didn't carry the weight it should have.

The Theory of Everything--have yet to see...but should by next week.

Whiplash-- same thing. hoping to have it viewed very soon.

Wimp

okay obviously thinking I could stick with this every day was far fetched. I always think I can do it all and I can't. I have such control issues. I get very frustrated if I can't get it all done. I have a hang up with not following through. It drives me nuts. I need to make my expectations more realistic. Even sleep. I can't expect I'm going to get much. Lately, I don't. The girls climb in one by one at some point in the night. One normally takes over my pillow. One I have to constantly be moving over. Getting restful sleep is difficult. But it won't always be like this. I know other things will get more difficult, but a lot of things will get easier as the girls grow older.

Life is good. I'm just tired. But nothing compared to other people. Complaining about anything seems so trivial. I am aware of the hardships of the world. People living in war zones, poverty, abusive situations....and I'm tired because my healthy, sweet girls climb in with me. My God. Get a fucking grip.

ups and downs

Woke up this morning with Zoe on my back and Harper tucked tightly under my chin. I was sandwiched between my two girls and felt like I should note it in my mind. This is a sweet, wonderful moment. I loved it. I love it...and I hope those moments will shape them. I hope they woke up feeling loved and safe. My family is  not cuddly. We couldn't crawl in bed with my parents. My dad's parents were a different story. Memories of waking up and knowing I could crawl into with my grandparents...welcomed and loved. Those moments helped shape my heart.

This morning. My kitchen is an absolute disaster. I mean, frightening. And yet...I'm sitting here, writing and enjoying my coffee. I feel like I'm growing.

My winter blues has taken residence in my chest. The sitting elephant has returned. ??? Happened same time last year. This morning the pressure is gone, not sure why. One of the most annoying things about anxiety...is if you don't know the origin. Does that mean I'm disconnected? Does everyone struggle with figuring out their ins and outs, or is just the people who think too much, like i do.

I won't be sticking my head in an oven...no worries.

off putting

Well, I missed a day. damn.
Yesterday I spend all day cleaning Z's room...and the loft...and totally redoing the bookshelves. Got rid of 2 big bags of books. Somehow January has always been a manic month of feeling overwhelmed with stuff. Time to purge. During the purging, I started listening to the Serial podcast. It's about figuring out a murder that happened in the early 90s. So addicting.

In case you are interested:
http://serialpodcast.org/

Went to therapy today. Basically figuring out my ridiculous hurt feelings. She does a good job of helping me find the source of the feeling...the helps me let it go. She told me I was good at trying to see the good in people--always trying to find the reason for their behavior. Yeah, great...but for some reason, it doesn't cure my heavy chest.

My goals for my 40s might just be shifting to my 50s.

Interiors

I spent my day cleaning, watching the girls make a mess, cleaning up the mess...and then feeling behind. After days of putting away the decor, it is done. This is my life. Dad called today. He was just about to cross over the border to Mexico. I suppose I always wonder if that's the last time I'll talk to him. He said he'd be drinking coffee from his mug like mine. He was very sweet. I only see him about once  year now. Kind of sad. But at least they are quality visits.

There is something about watching my children grow...and feel badly that my parents don't really know them. My mom used to come all of the time...but now she is afraid to fly. Not sure what she's gong to do. There certainly does not seem to be any race to get here or anything. OH WELL.

That's what therapy is for. I go Thursday. I can express my  hurt feelings and she can get me to figure out where they originate...and so on. Oh how the world would be a better place if everyone went to therapy--and had a good therapist. I had a bad one for a year and she almost ran me into the ground. I had never felt so awful than after leaving her office. She drove me into the lowest of the lows. Plus she told me that I should get divorced. Ummm...I've never even mentioned divorce. That's the last thing on my mind. So, I divorced her.

Therapy is always good, I think. We are all alone in the world. Whether you are surrounded by people or not. We all have our private internal selves...the thoughts and ideas that we don't share. I turn thoughts over and over ad over and over ....and who wants to keep listening to that? My therapist, that's who. There is a comfort there that they sort of have to listen to you. It's awesome. I recommend it.

I'm tired.

I keep saying I'm going to get better at this and I don't.

I keep thinking I'm going to be struck with something great to write about and I don't. Or I'm too exhausted to think about it. Or I'm wondering how my thoughts will come across. I have a million reasons why I'm not writing. Mostly, I think it comes down to fear. Fear of showing myself...and my real thoughts and being received as odd. By almost 40, I'm not sure why I care. And, I'm sad that I thought by 40, I wouldn't...still care.

I guess I should find comfort in the fact that I'm not satisfied with who I am. I happy that I'm not done working on myself. I might think about it too much, but then again...I do that anyway.

Rolling Stone posted a story about a guy who wrote about his film addiction. I definitely have one. I find myself wanting to watch a made up someone's life rather than live more of my own. It's tiring.

Short entries are better than no entry. Every time I feel like writing, I'm overcome with fatigue. ?? Complete exhaustion takes over and I just want to sleep. Denial? Fear? Laziness?

My 40th year I should spend writing each day. I'm 5 days behind. Great. See, I already feel defeated. I'm going to try. Really. Don't believe me, huh. Yeah, me either, but we'll see. Whatever comes out, comes out. Boring, weird, irrational or over emotional...it is what it is.


I saw The Imitation Game over the weekend. By the end, I just wanted to take a huge stance against all anti gay everything. By the end, I had tears streaming down my face and I was tired. Jason asked how I was...because  I wasn't talking...and he was trying to get me to order food..."umm...you look like you're needing some time or something." ha. I'm sure he gets freaked by my diving into a movie and practically drowning in my thoughts about it.

"I'm tired. Tired of it all...of all the bullshit...the anti gay shit. The WHOLE THING. I am. Tired of the fb shit. Tired of the religious shit. Tired of them not being able to marry. Tired of people who say it's a lifestyle choice. Tired of people who don't even know a gay person making statements about what they think. It's just so annoying...and I'm tired. Tired of getting mad about it...getting sad about it...tired of biting my tongue. Tired of trying to see everyone's view point. Tired of hearing how this or that says it's wrong. Tired of seeing things that make me embarrassed for the times we live in. Tired of judgement. Tired of ignorance. Fuck. When will this be over?!!! The fact that we still have such horrible race issues doesn't make me hopeful that it ever will be. As long as someone is different, they will be persecuted. It's gross and awful...and fucking tiresome.

"You need to be living, not observing."

For fear of being too dark, I haven't been writing. Not that life is bad, but thoughts tend to be dark when I allow myself to think, that is. I've been avoiding it mostly. I threw myself into Six Feet Under followed by Dexter and have been contently distracted. TV and movies are my vice. After a friend shared her grief over losing two friends, I was struck by her ability to dive in and feel it all. She wrote a beautiful poem for one of her friends dying of cancer. She shared the poem with me.

I shared with you that first moment
dreams of capsized boats, drowning, water washing me to the shore repeatedly. I didn't know until the telling what they meant. Looking into your eyes, hearing your story of encroaching death, I knew I was flooding, not from without, regardless of metaphor or vessel, but from within. Our first meeting one of hugs, tears, a knowledge of unspoken,unspeakable shared grief. I held you as lighthouse, beacon, revered mentor. You touched my tears, overlooked my fragility, allowed me to lean against you even though I, physically, was the stronger of the two. And as this, your end, draws near, you reach through space with strength I do not have. You touch me one last time to share words of praise, knowing how important goodbyes are for mooring, how lost I am at sea.
-Ronda Miller

Reading this immediately had me in tears. Just the idea of writing a poem to try to express the depths of your grief about someone so close to you dying. I've been too scared too write anything for fear it wouldn't come close to representing how I truly feel. I doubt I have the words to describe my fear and doubt that any words could even inhabit the weight in my chest. But, I don't have to be great at it, I just have to put it out there. If anything, to maybe see if anyone out there is feeling similar things. I can't be feeling anything original about death and dying.

I don't even understand my preoccupation with it. My (new) therapist says that it could be PTSD. That I have past trauma about death and those around me dying, therefore I'm just running scenarios over and over in my head. When asked to write down all the people I've known that died and how they died, I realized that out of close to 20 people, only 2 died of natural causes. The rest died tragically--car accident, overdose, suicide or cancer. So, she is going to do EMDR therapy with me. EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) is a psychotherapy that enables people to heal from the symptoms and emotional distress that are the result of disturbing life experiences.  If it works, it seems that my obsessing about death could end. Also, my anxiety could be drastically reduced. I don't know much about it, but I'm willing to try anything. My thoughts lately causes me to distance myself from my writing, from talking deeply with anyone--because I suck at small talk and become a tv zombie. After telling Ronda my thoughts about her poem and how I've been avoiding most things, her response was, "you need to be living, not observing." Words couldn't be more true.

So although some posts may seem a little whacky, oh well...I have to write them anyway. So, we'll see how it goes. More to come.

S.A.D. is here!! Enjoy!!

I am shocked at how many I haven't seen! Now I'm excited.


It's Seasonal Affective Disorder time folks! Snuggle up, close the shutters, get some hot chocolate and watch some movies to escape from reality. I've been binging on Six Feet Under, so I'm right there with you. It's all about escape for me. (And my life is pretty good...??) It doesn't seem to matter if you are surrounded by a great life...for some reason, the blues can still creep up on you. I'm up and down. Today, up, thank goodness. But I had a day last week where I was in a pretty good funk. It's a hard feeling to deal with. And for some reason, even if you know it's going to end...at the time you are feeling it, you forget. At least I do. It's all about hopeless, cranky and not wanting to see anyone.

So, if you can't see people...watch them. Sometimes getting lost in a movie is the best thing. (or a book, of course...)


Enjoy.

http://www.pastemagazine.com/blogs/lists/2012/10/15-classic-fall-movies.html

http://www.buzzfeed.com/briangalindo/20-movies-to-watch-with-your-kids-this-halloween#kgcifx

http://www.digitalspy.com/movies/at-the-movies/a517123/12-brilliant-autumn-movies-good-will-hunting-500-days-of-summer.html#~oQGL1vqmoviWwf


I will promise to post my reviews of the ones I watch. I need to force myself to post these days. My lack of posting is in direct correlation to my ups and downs, I apologize. The Robin Williams death took me out for quite some time. It triggered so many things that came out of nowhere. Unreal.

More to come, folks.

If all else fails...go for an autumn walk and look at the gorgeous trees!!! it helps me.

On death and dying

I think my biggest fear is that dying will be the end. Just nothing. That everyone that has died so far is no where. They are just gone. They aren't looking down on us. They aren't in a better place, they are just in nothingness. I obsess over death and dying. I obsess over people around me dying. Every time Jason leaves to go anywhere...I always think that could be the last time I see him. I go over the entire scenario in my head. I've done this for years. The death of friends and loved ones haunt me.  I want to  believe that I will see them again. The thought of seeing my grandparents again has always been a comfort to me. It always felt like a sure thing.

I realize that this is a faith thing. That's something to address another day.

Robin Williams' death had a huge impact on me for some reason. I am devastated. It is like a close friend has died. I've cried a lot. I've spent hours on YouTube watching everything I could find that he was in. It was if I've beens studying him...to see if I could see something that would make me understand him more. Could we have been able to tell? Could I tell he was really depressed deep down?

To get to the point where living is just too painful. When you feel compelled to make yourself disappear. When the thoughts of friends and family aren't enough to keep you here. When depression has completely taken over and you are left with no other option but to free yourself from it. When it is no longer a choice. That is what I focused on. That breaks my heart. And I am selfish for wanting him to continue his life that way.

On the Tuesday morning, the morning after he died, I woke up early to watch The Today Show. It was dedicated to him. Zoë crawled in bed with me just as it started. I had tears falling down my face.
Z- Did he die?
me- Yes.
-How?
-He was horribly sad. When that happens, it's just too much and you can't be here anymore.
-Is he sad now?
-(pause) No.
-Then why are you sad?

Geesh. So true. We are selfish...the ones left behind. In this situation at least. He was in pain, now he's not...but I don't care. I want him to be here still. I want someone to help him. The other thing I struggle with is whether or not he was ever happy in his life. If you get to the point where you have to die to escape the pain--it seems as if your mind and body could take no more. As if you've been struggling for so long, it has to end.

I began to feel really strange. Why is this affecting me so much? I didn't know him. He was a famous person. Other famous people have died and it didn't affect me like this. (Princess Diana's death is the closest to this one.) One reason, I think, is that he reminds me so much of my grandpa. His arms and hands. His mouth and the way he laughs...identical. The way he walks. Watching him in movies, I always felt comforted seeing those things. Unhealthy, maybe. But somehow I melded the two together.

But also because he always made me laugh. He was the sure thing. He was just happiness. He was kind. He was "always happy" and it was comforting. He was always a comforting presence...bring back those feelings of childhood and being around grandpa. I'm not sure I will fully understand the impact, but I guess it doesn't matter. I feel the way I feel. And it has conjured up so many emotions and thoughts. It stirred up a lot of sadness. It was like a release to sit and watch him and cry. A switch was flipped.

And I couldn't tell Jason. I couldn't really tell anyone. Well, my friend Ronda seemed to understand the most. I told some friends and they were very sweet to listen...but Ronda seemed to GET it. Suicide and everything that surrounds it haunts me. It scares me. It makes me feel hopeless and powerless. The love of family and friends isn't enough. The amazing place the world is...wasn't enough. The money and the fame--is never enough. It seems as if has been programmed and it is inevitable in some cases. James Taylor said that Robin's death was inevitable. I read that 2 weeks ago and wanted to understand why he said that.

Last night I read the Rolling Stone article about him. I will say that after reading it, I understand why he said it. If you put together all of the instances where people saw his depth of sadness, his way of deflecting and redirecting, his inability to stay present when asked difficult questions, his lonely childhood, his emotional breakdowns coupled with fits of performing...and performing as if it was something he HAD to do in order to get through the moments. All if it...this person was hiding. He hid in whatever he could find. Making people laugh...that seemed to be a drug. Drugs were a hiding place. He distracted himself with affairs early on. He distracted himself by riding his bike. Taking off and riding past it all...not having to be present with someone...not feeling he had to perform in order to be in control of the situation...ugh.

Do I believe his pain is gone? Yes.
Do I know where he is? No. But I want to believe I'll be in the same place one day.
I want to believe that I will be with my children forever in a way. The thought of dying and that's just it...it's too much to bare.

The whole thing has taken over my mind. Now I have to dive in and figure out why THAT is. It makes me feel extremely alone.

Steamboat by Adrianne Lenker

STEAMBOAT

Well I’m just a stranger
I’m only a walker
I guess I am human
But sometimes I feel like I’m only a ghost
Like I’m only a wall
If you come around honey
I’ll probably just follow you home
‘Cause it’s all that I know how to do
I was born by a body
I’ll die by one too
And places are nothing if they ain’t got you

And one day ima be a steamboat baby
One day I can be your freight train lady
I roll down the river and the miles won’t phase me

Oh I wish I was better at being alone
Still every night I call you on the phone
Oh I wish I was more than my skin and my bone

Well I’ve been arranging
each of my movements
All of my gestures
And trying to fool myself into thinking
That everything’s small
That nothing has reason
I woke up and cried
A convulsion of honesty
Brought me to life
When I thought I was gone
But I can’t put a lie in the 
Mouth of a song

One day I ma be a steamboat baby
One day I can be your freight train lady
Roll down the river and the miles won’t phase me
Oh I wish I was better at being alone
Still every night I call you on the phone
Oh I wish I was more than my skin and my bone
Oh I wish I was more than my skin and my bone

© 2013 Adrianne Lenker. All Rights Reserved.

Man...these lyrics resonate with me so much. Especially in my 20s and early 30s. How many of us have felt like this? Love it. 

Found this today...

I'm glad a lobotomy wasn't suggested...

I am doing a piss poor job of writing here. I haven't been real excited to sit down and pour out any thoughts. I've been turning over something in my brain for a few weeks now. Just wondering about some things. And of course, avoiding them as well.

When I was 19, I was diagnose manic-depressive and was immediately put on medication that I was on and off of for the next 10 years. Most of the medicine made me pretty nutty...I just thought that it was just me being crazy. I was embarrassed and insecure about it all--and a HUGE drama queen.

So, come to find out (I'm shortening this story for you) that I was diagnosed wrong. Isn't that a kick in the pants. After spending quite some time with my therapist and meeting with a doctor--they've both concluded that I have adult ADHD. I was sort in shock because in my head, ADHD means someone that can't sit still and can't stay on task. They said that it has nothing to do with me physically. My mind jumps around for me. (I've know this part.) They wet over lots of symptoms of my behavior that lead them to this conclusion. They said I was never manic-depressive. I probably was ADHD the entire time. The medication I was on to "correct" the other was pretty...well, it screwed me up pretty well. I lost a job, friends and time to my insanity I kept going by putting more and more meds into my system for something I didn't suffer with.

I cried. I thought about how long I've felt so weird inside and that I seemed to behind in maturity. My friends always seemed more focus and driven. I was flighty and completely unfocused. I'm not going to blame it for everything, but I do feel that it's very possible things could have been different. That being said, I ended up in about the best place I could be in--so I can't spend too much time looking backward.

My doctor said she's had about 100 cases where a person with ADHD was diagnosed as something else and put on the wrong medication. The lesson I got from this was...if I'm going to get 4 opinions for which doctor to operate on my hip, I should have gone to a few about what meds (if any) would go into my brain.

So yes, I've been put on medication to see if it will help me or not. I guess my forgetfulness, rapid thoughts anxiety and being a big escapist can be helped. You'll have to stay tuned for the results. I can't really tell anything yet. I'm not sure what I'm looking for, really.

Master Class--Warning--an emotional purge

I've been watching reruns of Oprah's Master Class series on OWN. It's really gets me thinking about so many things. I recently re-watched the two part episode of the one focusing on Oprah, herself. It's remarkable. Her life is so inspiring. But I think what I most appreciate is her attitude and view of life. She is an optimist. She can see the beauty of her own life. She appreciates her journey. Her beginnings were horrific. She knows pain that far exceeds my own. During college I wallowed in such things in my life that seem so small now. They were issues so many other people were having. My problems were so small, relatively speaking. It embarrasses me now. It shouldn't, but does.

Some people seem to be born with some type of inner strength. Maybe God put it there...maybe they developed it on their own-but I don't think so. When I see what some have overcome with such bravery, I am in such awe. It makes me feel as if they are made of different material than I am. I spend a lot of time wanting to be more. I always look at others and want to be like them. One of the things she said on the show was "the fact that you are...matters. You matter. The fact that everything came together in one single moment to create you--the fact that you are even here...proves you matter." (i'm paraphrasing) She also talks about the fact that one should quit looking to change. Stop wishing you could change. Stop looking to others to find how to be. You were created exactly the way you are for a reason.  Basically stop doing what I do most days of my life. I somehow lack a lot of self worth. I even hate THAT about myself. I am missing something. I've felt that all of my life. It's like God forgot to add an ingredient. Or have I not discovered it yet? Maybe it's a muscle that is completely unused.

I don't trust my own feelings. I don't have faith in my own ideas. I don't have an inner strength that others have. I have friends that do...and I am always wanting to be more like them. I want to be a different person for my children. I want to be someone they find comfort and safety in. My mother spent most of my childhood depressed. She locked herself away from the world a lot. She was sad and angry. She is reclusive. She is a good person. She is kind and very giving. She is so selfless in some ways...I think it hurts her. She doesn't live her own life...she helps everyone else live theirs. There is something about being selfish at the right times, that I feel is okay. I think it is okay to show your children that making hard choices in order to make yourself happy is okay. It might be hard for others to understand, but in the long run, you will be a better example of how to get through life in the best way.

I want to surround myself with positive, happy people. However, honestly, a lot of the people around me are hurt and angry. They struggle with obstacles in life. They have a hard time dealing with things that are outside themselves. What I mean is that they have a hard time learning from the outside world. They are so focused inward that they have a hard time relating to other people. They are easily frustrated unless things go the way they need them. They are not versatile. If you haven't figured it out, I am talking about one person in particular...but don't want to call them out. It's difficult to be around them at times. Other times, they are great. I'm not saying they are always miserable...or selfish. They are extremely giving...but I do feel that they do what they feel is expected of them. I feel that living a life of doing as you think others need--can store such a lifetime of resentment.

I lived in two extremely different households growing up. They couldn't be more different. I had to adapt. Children do what they have to survive emotionally. I feel like I changed my personality and how I acted constantly. I looked to others to know how to be. I didn't feel safe to just be who I was. My dad wasn't big on kids...you needed to act a certain way. You had to act like an adult really. He wanted you to have the insight of an adult...knowing how to act all of the time. He was irritated otherwise. My mom wasn't like that. However, she really wasn't around a lot. At least, that's my memory. I don't have a strong memory of any parent being really THERE. My grandparents were. They spent a lot of quality time with me. That's what a child remembers. Unconditional love. I try very hard to make sure my girls know I am here. That they are loved and adored. I know they will have strong memories of their parents. I think, for the most part, we are doing a good job.

I realize it's a filmed and edited program, but Oprah comes across so calm and so at peace with who she is as a person. She is confident and makes no apologies for who she is. She comes across so wise and as if she has some inside information on life itself. She has a stillness that I want. I feel like my insides are always jumbled. My mind constantly doubts my actions and words. It creates anxiety and makes me very unsettled. I hate to stir the pot. I hate to cause ripples. I do at times. I speak my mind and then spend weeks feeling sick about it. So sick that I am almost paralyzed. I lack confidence of being.

This could go on and on an on...it's more like a purge. if you made it this far, wow.

If anyone has a book they recommend...please let me know. I need an Eat, Pray, Love wake up.


BTW--I use the term God...I also use "the universe"--God represents so much...it's an all encompassing force that creates nature and the internal stuff inside of people (soul, I guess) that is unique in everyone. I will admit, it isn't a Christian God. It's not restricted to one type of person. It's just a term I use for the feeling I have inside and all that was created that I am in awe of.

Crawling out from my rock.

So, it's been about 2 months. I've been cheating on you. I took a couple of writing classes and put my focus there, but now I'm back. Creative Journaling was fun. It focused more on creating writing from many different inspirations. Discovering your feelings by going in another door. I thought it was cool. I learned a lot. The other class was a class that focused on motherhood. We went out to a beautiful retreat in the woods for a day. There were only 4 of us. They were lovely women. I focused on writings about the girls mostly.

This blog is always in the back of my head..."you need to write." However, I never wanted to be a slave to it. I wanted to want to write.

I dipped a bit into a little bluesy feeling. I'm now newly medicated and feeling much better. In the past, the medications I was on made me feel drugged. I don't feel that way now. Just less anxious. Working out helps. I go about 5 times a week now. Trying to get in shape for Tough Mudder.  I started running. I HATE IT. It just sucks, honestly. I will never run for enjoyment. I can't even comprehend that. I am instantly tired. I thought I was in shape. Nope.

I feel like I need to take the blog in yet another direction. I feel like i've said that before. Instead of having pointless posts, I thought about writing ABOUT something. The creative journaling class opened up a new way to look at blogs. There will some daily thoughts, but also some writing that has more shape.

I'll put the idea in the subject and we'll see what happens.

But today is just catch up.

Cresting

Seriously, I am okay. My blogs in the past months are really damn depressing. Yikes. I will blame Seasonal Affective Disorder and move on from it.

Today...we need something light.

Zoe told me her favorite movie is Frozen. It used to be The Wizard of Oz, before that The Princess Bride. She might finally have one appropriate for her age group. ha.

She asked me what mine was...I always say the same thing, The English Patient. However, I have lots of movies that I put on constantly that are sort of like going home. I'm not saying they are uplifting...but I seem to lean toward the script. I love good dialogue. I love good conversation. I love movies that shed light on fucked up families. And some that have great scripts that just make me feel good.

In absolutely no particular order...I'm choosing the first ten that come to me, or I'll sit here for hours and do this.

The Big Chill
One True Thing
The Family Stone
Wonder Boys
Moonlight Mile
The Way We Were
The Four Seasons
When Harry Met Sally
You've Got Mail
Out of Africa

Okay, one more...because I can't leave out Tootsie. I really love Tootsie.

See! I made it without anything grim or whiny!!!

(The sun is out today...that helps.)

I made it through the rain! (I love Barry....)

I was going  to reread my post from last night and decided not to.

Today was a new day and I  unplugged my brain a bit. Yesterday I was desperately floundering. I will say that Jason said some things last night that helped put things into perspective. The heaviness is gone in my chest. I didn't give him enough credit. I don't normally talk to him when I'm feeling a bit crazy...worried that he'll be disappointed or annoyed for some reason. ?? Like I'm  his girlfriend and not his wife. WTF? I  have issues. Anyway, he kept seeing me sneak off and have phone conversations with friends and I think his feelings were a bit hurt. "You are talking to them about how you're feeling? Why aren't you talking to me?" I told him I really didn't think he'd understand. I told him a few thoughts and he whipped into "You are looking at this ALL WRONG!" mode. I won't go into the point by point discussion we had where he basically disproved everything negative feeling I had about myself...but I will say that I felt loved. Today, I just feel relieved. Relieved that I have people I can talk to when I'm whacked. Relieved that one of them is actually in Rochester! (that took a while) Relieved that Jason is on my side. I think I put him vs me for some reason. Yesterday, EVERYONE was VS ME.

I just watched a show I taped on OWN about women and aging. Sharon Stone was on. She is now 56 and said that she really didn't have peace with herself until she was 50. Oprah seemed to agree with that. That was a relief as well. I was looking at 40 like I had 5 mins to pack up my things and take off in a plane or something and my room looks like a tornado hit it. Where's my bag? What clothes? Where am I even going?? Like I was TOTALLY unprepared to be who I was supposed to be. As if there is an alarm and when it goes off you can't grow anymore. You can't learn...you are done. Put your pencils down. I felt like I had to be a complete person by a certain time. I'm not sure where that feeling comes from. More therapy questions.

Today...Z was sick (it wasn't pretty...ugh.) and I took care of her. She got her bath tonight. She drank fluids and ate her crackers and she didn't have an episode after noon. I had to break Harper of her pacifier cold turkey because the dentist told me that it was ruining the shape of her mouth. She said I still had time for it to "grow out" and she'd be fine, but NO MORE PACIFIER. (Z had hers until she was 2 1/2 or something crazy.) So, Harper cried (sort of all day) out of frustration. As if she was in detox...I held her and tried to be as soothing as I could. She went to bed tonight...without even a whimper.

It was a good day.