getting organized

Let's see if I remember how to do this;

1. one section is a "brain dump"--each page is dated and anything and everything goes there:  dates that come up, projects to work on, tasks, data such as phone numbers, etc.
2. To do list:  hold on, I think I would like these things on one page.  yes, why didn't it think of that.
3. and a calendar

Bridge over a hole

So I am imagining a hole in a wide plane.  The plane would be my life.  The hole would be the hole left by my parents.  Now I'm envisioning a bit of festering on the edges of the hole.  What is festering?  Is it me?
Anyway, I am also picturing a bridge over the hole.  A simple unadorned bridge arching gently over the hole.  And then there I am, walking over the bridge.
The point is that there is a hole, a painful void that my parents ripped out of my life.  It is there and it will always be there.  It cannot be filled.  But I can get around it and over it.  It's there, it exists, but I can live with it, move around it.

Morbidity

Holocaust.  Murder mysteries. Interesting to me now.  The boundless things--atrocities we will do to each other.  Limitless.  Is it regression?  If so, what are the acts of kindness and forgiveness and selflessness and sacrifice we do for others.  What are the ideas we create, philosophies, opinions, rationals that go against our primal instincts?  Progression, evolution?  Evolution of morality?
But of course, we are not the only species which makes these sacrifices and are compassionate to others other than our own offspring.  We've seen dogs and cats risk their lives and safety for humans.  We've seen unusual animal friendships between species.
Pondering this stuff amuses me, but it inspires the question about living in the moment.  Should analyzing things the way I do get in the way of my wish to be in the moment and my practice of being?

Dream

Involved only my mom and me.  Barbecue grill in back yard of my parents house was on fire and going to explode.  My priority was to save the house.  So I sprayed the house with water .  My mother ended up in the end sitting in a pool of melted material.  She was naked and not the age she is now. She was younger.
Whatever sub-conscious and random connections made by my brain, whatever.

how dare ye

disregard me?
shun me?
who the hell are you?
how can you wipe my existence from your life?
you were there when I was born.
you created me.
I am part of you.
how dare you.

well you did.  I must accept it.

a slow good bye

appropriate title.  seems like everyday I come closer to actually accepting.  what will happen when she dies?  she will die without acknowledging me or the things I've been waiting for her to admit.  her death will be hard for me.

Oh, duh.  I keep waiting for my boss to acknowledge my accomplishments just like I used to (and frankly still do) keep waiting for my mom to wake up and realize what a big mistake she's made by rejecting me.
Really that seems a bit less sad and pathetic than the approval thing.  But I know I do want that, too,

Updates:

1. Saw an old friend, had a few minutes with her and ended up spewing out old crap about ex-husband and ex-best-friend and my suspicions that they had had a fling behind my back.  Wow, where had that come from??  It was weird, but healthy?
2. While perusing obits for my parents, I came across others from my family.  Turns out my dad's brother, his wife, and another aunt all died within the last few years.
3. Going through another thing where I semi-stalk my boss.  Man, I have got to get a life.  I'm so bored.  Plus I think I need to quit.  Yes, I need to leave and not look back.

I know why I am so crazy when my boss treats me with disdain and neglect.  Because it's wrong to treat me like that.  It's infair and uncalled for.  But.

But te her prerogative to treat me however she may.  I am not a church and she is not my God to prey to or ask things of

Happy birthday Jane.

It was this week.

The night before I had this haunting little dream about my dad swimming away into a vast ocean (or large lake) as the sun set.  I was yelling after him to stop.  He was younger and strong and very good at swimming.  It makes me wonder if he is dead.

Well I checked.  Can't find his name when I search the obits.  I was really sure I would see it.

Last night of one week being off work.
Last night of one week of immobilizing depression.
Oh, what will the week bring?  Oh the possibilities.

Spring Break un-accomplishments

Ok, it's the end of our spring break.  Let's evaluate it!!
I wasn't going to stay in bed and zone out on pc and tv.
Well, do two hour naps count?  Not every day, just--ok, everyday.
But I did take the kids to the park and make them walk.  Twice.
We went to a craft store.
I cooked a nice dinner every night--really, everyday but last night, we had leftovers and tonight I'm making a nice meal.
I've baked yummy stuff for the kids...and for me...
I've played a lot of Warcraft.  Oh, wait is that really an accomplishment?  Excuse me I have a hunter almost to 90, gotta go.

Spring Break and remembering Lawn Chairs.

Well it's Spring break for me and the kids.  When we were home with all of our snow days, I got downright depressed.  We will see how this week goes.
Things that are not healthy for me to do and for the kids to see:

1. Lay in bed all day.
2. Lay on the couch all day.
3. Shut the kids out of my world by zoning out on PC or TV.

Ok, hey, it could be worse!!  I could be putting shots of rum in my iced tea or something else like that.  I saw a woman on Oprah once who drank all day with her kids at home.  She hid it well, or so she said.  She seemed so "normal" on the outside!!
Oh, wait, my mom did this, I forgot??!!
Gin and 7-up with ice in a tumbler.
Sit outside on the patio and talk to your bitter friend on the phone.
I could see her out my window.
It's a clear picture I have in my mind.  I see the lawn chair set.  It's a two-seater with a wooden table in the middle.  Gotta have that table for your ash tray and drink.

What is that stuff called that the chairs were made of??  I can feel the aluminum armrests under my hands.  I remember the lines on you legs when you got up.
I swear my step-dad fell through one when he was drunk.

Other stuff I remember my step-dad doing when he was drunk:

1. Jumping down a small flight of stairs in order to imitate how I did it.  Apparently it annoyed him when I skipped the last step and hopped into the kitchen.  But when he did it, he landed on a small throw rug, slipped and slammed into a wall.  I guess a 12 year old skinny girl is more adept at these things than a 40 something, 200 pound drunk ass hole--go figure.
   But I'm over it!!  Not really.  Or I wouldn't be writing about it and getting anxious after seeing lawn chairs.
2. Well that's enough for now.  Hope you enjoyed.

Let's be honest, I have not said good-bye.  The other night I was replaying a memory of my head.  I couldn't have been older than 8 or 9 years old.
My step dad was working nights at the time and my mother and I were on the couch watching something.  She was laying down and I was sort of lying on her...well thigh, butt, I guess...I was young so it was ok!!  Anyway she had been dozing but woke up with a bit of a start and had a very strange, droopy flat look on her face.  She did not know where or who she was.  She did not know who I was.  Scary, scary, shit.
I went to the phone and called my neighbor friend's mom who then of course called 911.  Why didn't I call 911?  I think I was in such shock and confusion.  My mother was not hurt, she was just not my mom.
So when I was replaying this event I admitted something to myself.  I miss her.  I have missed her all this time.  There is something we had together that, despite the dysfunction, was special and completely unique.  It was special because we were mother and daughter.  We got each other at least on some level.  We were bonded on at least some level.
The questions really never go away.
How can she choose to shut the door on me?
How can she stand not having contact with her only daughter?  Let alone her grandchildren.  Her wonderful, wonderful grandchildren.  What an amazing loss she is choosing to take, and for what?
This is what it always comes back to.  Always.  The hows and the whys.  So crazy, so so crazy.
Maybe Teri Gross and I will be able to hash this out and come up with some answers.  I know what your thinking:
"But Teri is not a therapist, she is just a talk show host."  and I would answer you:
"Teri asks questions that provoke thought.  She has an ability to empathize and sometimes see blanks and openings that the guest may have never seen.  But she does this with such subtly and grace, making the interviewee seem like it was always their intention to realize these new connections.

Ok, I am going to try to get through this.
Try to get through this.
Last night I woke up with a feeling of utter humiliation.  Am I a joke to all that I work with??  Am I?
Last night I was pretty sure I was.
Why should the glare of a 20-something-year old loser bitch bother me.  Why???
Why?  Because I am me.  Other people define me.
What is going on now?
What is different?
Why am I on an upward psycho swing now?
Ok, it's not the middle of the night, just late evening.  How do I feel?
The reasoning part of me decided some stuff earlier tonight that was supposed to clear all this up and make me all better.

1. Remember this:  I am good at something.  I know I am.  I love what I am truly good at and it is a useful skill that has a positive impact on those around me that matter most to me.
2. I am going to focus on this talent and make it the central part of my work.  I am going to return to this basic goal.
3. There are things I have done to make my experience at work more difficult than it needed to be but there is also a toxic element at work that I am going to try to escape.  I am going to do my best to separate myself from this toxic element and focus on what I said in 1 and 2.
4. I am going to IGNORE the previous bull shit conversations with my boss that were just her blowing hot air.  I am not going to try to be her unofficial unpaid personal ass-kissing assistant.  

And there you have it.  If I can do these things, I might just survive.  Maybe.

Well, not so much "good-bye" as "you still haunt me."

Not cool, man.  Not cool.

I just realized I have been a scapegoat at work.

And it's not a recent or new thing.

I knew this before...

in a way.

I wouldn't really admit it.

I am so convenient.

How 

In 

The

Hell
Did 

I 

Do

This

To

Myself?

Adults can learn, too.

This is from a simple assignment where we were asked to compare the parenting style of our parents.  I opted to write about my own parenting style, since I didn't want to pick apart my overly picked apart parents--no really, I actually didn't want to!

The first theory that best describes my parenting style would be the psychoanalytical style with my approach leaning more toward the Erikson perspective rather than Freud.  According to Erickson, a person must maneuver through five defined stages in childhood and then two more in adulthood.  Within each of these stages, we must overcome an inconsistency that is present in each stage such as the “trust vs. mistrust” dispute in infancy (Berk 2012).  Even before my first child was born, I believed and knew that my strongest and most effective parenting tool was unconditional love.  My goals as a parent were based around not making the same mistakes my own parents had made and giving as much as I could to the “nurture” side of the “nature vs. nurture” paradox.
As I grew up with my children, I realized there were other things I could do to support their development.  I knew they had to make their own mistakes and make their own choices.  I also understood that they had to be given the guidance and support to do so, and be provided with a safe place to fall when things get rough.

The second theory that fits my parenting style is Piaget’s theory of Cognitive Development.  The book tells us that Piaget felt that a child will “construct knowledge as they manipulate and explore their world (Berk, 2012). ”  As a parent I feel it is the adult caregiver’s job to provide appropriate environments for the child to explore.  From the time my children could walk, we were exploring the back yard, local parks, and the library.  If and when one of my children appeared to enjoy something, I encouraged this interest by providing materials and experiences to further their exploration.  I’m sure I went overboard at times, enjoying the learning experience along with my child.  When my first child noticed butterflies, we ran to the library and collected as many insect and butterfly books as we could carry.  I approached my second daughter’s interest in dinosaurs in the same way.  One of my twin boys enjoyed music and was always interested in the covers the cds came in.  He eventually learned to read his first words by memorizing the track list of his favorite “Wiggles” album.  Luckily for me, resources to encourage these interests of my children were readily available. 

These two theories share a common belief that children should be allowed to be autonomous.  Erikson even theorized that negative feelings such as “shame” can and will emerge if a child is not allowed “reasonable free choice (Berk, 2012).”

Textbook cited:
Berk, Laura E. (2012). Infants, Children, and Adolescents (7^th ed.) Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon

This post + that post = a little clarity

So, the post about how my childhood shaped me.
And
The post where I stop whining.
Result:  Yes it shaped me, but here I am and I am fine in this shape.
This shape is me, it is good,
I am fine.

My OCD, Philip Semour Hoffman, My Interview with Teri Gross and the Stomach flu

Does anyone else do this?  I had been listening to Fresh Air earlier in the day.  A lot more than I usually had time for due to our week of snow days leaving me home from work.

I learned about Mr. Hoffman’s untimely death and was inspired to go net surfing to learn more about the actor.  I learned about everything there was to know and more.  I also read all that Wikipedia and YouTube had to offer about Truman Capote, heroin addiction, methadone programs, and some Catholic priest scandals.
Later that day the dreaded tummy troubles started.  I knew I had a good chance of falling victim because my three children had been suffering on and off for over a week.  YUCK!!
With a cold, you can drink, eat, relax on the couch, sleep, watch TV, look at any of your devices.
But with this stomach flu, I couldn't look at a screen without getting nauseous.  I could sleep some, but when the nausea came...well you can't sleep then.
So what's a person to do to pass the low-grade-fevered, head ache and stomach cramping time?
Sit up in your bed and fantasize your Teri Gross interview about how and why you started your one-million plus readership blog!
"Wow Teri, it's such an honor."
I think I faded in and out of a waking dream, but the interview went very well.

Stop Whining Post #1

 

I think changing the title of my blog has helped.

Why?

Reason #1

It used to be called "Not 40, Not Yet."  As if becoming 40 years old was something I could avoid.  

Something I should avoid.  What's the alternative?

I got here, I am alive and very comfortable.  In fact, if you took every person who has ever lived on the earth, gave them a rating based on quality of life, I would have to be in the very, very, very, infinitely very top.  By top I mean top percent of comfortable people who have ever, ever lived on earth.

Because a lot of people have lived on earth.

Most of those people have not had any of the luxuries I have.

My biggest complaint right now?  

My feet are a little cold and my skin is a little dry.

That's it.

That's my biggest problem.

If you asked my husband what his biggest problem is right now, it would probably be that he is hungry and he has to pay taxes this year.  

That's it.

Oh no!!  I can't turn 40!  Well I am lucky I did.  Right, child leprosy victim in 1st century A.D.??

Reason #2 

I actually think I did say "good-bye."

So maybe after awhile I should rename this blog "Hello, more monthly income" or "Hello peaceful world."  The second one sounds better from a moral standpoint, I know, but if there is any possibility of results coming from changing the name of the blog, the first one is much more plausible.

Continuing Education makes you still obsess about your past (or is it just me).

What this is:
I'm taking a class on childhood.  This is a short discussion assignment.  The assignment really did ask about our own childhood--I didn't just use it as another excuse to whine about my life...

I wrote:

The environments that I grew up in were not consistent, but they still show the correlations mentioned in our text.  In my early years, my environment was quiet but detached (passive environment).  My personality was also quiet.  I was an only child until I was 8 and and was accustomed to quiet time with my single working mother.  

Later my mother married a man with three children.  My step-father was loud, the children were loud and I was still, well, not loud.  I preferred alone time reading or drawing but this behavior was interpreted as aloof, arrogant and even insulting to my step-father (evocative environment).  As the book explains, "responses children evoke from others (then, eventually) strengthen the child's original style (Berk 2012)."  In other words, for me, my quiet nature strengthened into a more withdrawn quiet nature as I grew up.

As I grew into young adulthood, my ability to choose my environment resulted in my withdrawing and eventually movingcompletely away from my family.  I choose friends, hobbies and eventually a husband who were all also fairly quiet, reflective and introspective (active environment).

Textbook cited:Berk, Laura E. (2012). Infants, Children, and Adolescents (7^th ed.) Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon