Sep 20 2014
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adventure

No one mentioned this part

Let’s fast forward past the pregnancy news for a moment to today.  Week 8, Day 2.

This has been an eight week roller coaster.  Now, as one of the last of my friends to conceive I’ve been privy to the gory details, but I don’t recall anyone talking about how overwhelming and stressful this first part is.

First, it’s shocking as hell.  Then, it’s exciting.  That excitement turns to fear with a (false alarm) ectopic pregnancy ultrasound.  Then there’s blood. And a hastily scheduled ultrasound by a nurse who made everything worse and used the term ‘viable pregnancy’ – then just kidding, she called back after conferring with the doctor and canceled the ultrasound. Then more blood.

I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what the plan is. I suppose many women feel this way and we never hear about a pregnancy until Week 12.  Perhaps I am starting to understand why.

Jun 23 2014
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Through the Looking Glass

We took the Enneagram personality test at work and reviewed the results today.

According to Enneagram, I am a:

Helper
Loyalist
Achiever

In reading more about the Helper (aka ‘Two’), I found this paragraph particularly interesting:

Although on the surface Twos appear to feel at ease with others and to be a source of emotional sustenance for the people in their lives, they also suffer from well-hidden feelings of rejection. Twos expect people to not want them around, and they often feel that they need to be extraordinarily kind and supportive to get people to accept and love them. They usually try to conceal the depths of their loneliness or hurt beneath an image of concern for others, focusing on others’ needs to help them feel better. Sometimes it does, but just as often, Twos may feel that others are not appreciating them for their efforts, thus rekindling their feelings of rejection. Then they may become touchy or even openly angry, revealing the extent of the disappointment they are hiding.

Wowza.  For the first part of my life, it was just me and my mom.  Then she met and married The Pedophile, and had my baby brother in the span of ten months.  I was simply a four-year old lost in the shuffle and much too young to understand why I wasn’t the center of my mom’s universe anymore.

Growing up, when I wasn’t merely an object of The Pedophile’s perversion, I had to work very hard to be well-liked by him in order to get him to be a dad.  On the converse, when my mom wasn’t sick, I purposefully drove her into a rage knowing she would lash out. If my mom was hitting me, that meant she cared enough to discipline me. She gave her love freely to us, but it wasn’t her love I wanted. I wanted desperately for her to be my mom and if she wasn’t going to stand up for me, the least she could do was stand up to me.

At age 26, when I told my mom and my brothers what The Pedophile did to me, I already knew my mom couldn’t / wouldn’t leave him.  But my brothers?  They were 20 and 22, I was so hopeful that they would stick up for me.  I didn’t ask them to make a choice, but deep down I really wanted them to pick me.  When they decided to ride the fence with one foot in each camp, I turned that deep and painful rejection into something positive. I took care of them (and everyone else) instead. And I spun their disloyalty into loyalty of my own with rationalizations like, ‘I know what it’s like not to have a dad and I don’t want that for them’ and ‘my mom is too dependent on my dad to leave’ and I resolved to blame everyone’s ambivalence on the person who had caused all of this.

No wonder I quit shortly after credit was given to others and my efforts were ignored by leadership after pulling off an extraorinary 1,100-person, 28-day, 4-wave incentive trip that I planned in six months mostly by myself.  It makes sense that I would banish RT3 from my life when he opted to hang out more with his new girlfriend than with me all the time.  And the fog is clearing as to why I was a master at shunning boys and friends who hurt my heart.

Huh.  I didn’t expect to learn this enlightenment today.  I think I have a few things to share with my brothers.

May 04 2014
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reduce, renew, wellness

Aaaand we’re back

Treads and I ran a marathon in 2006. And then again in 2010.  It seemed only incrementally fitting that we would run in 2014.  In January, registering for the race in October sounded like a great idea.  Even in April – with training set to start May 4 – the idea was still lively and exciting.

However, as the first ‘comeback run’ approached, enthusiasm gave way to doubt.  Today was scheduled as the first three miles of 325.2 and frankly, to say I wasn’t sure of myself would be an understatement. Signing up for the autumn race seemed like a great idea in January but as today approached a familiar arch-nemesis swiftly rolled in like fog.

Doubt is a toxin that, if left to its own devices, will paralyze the host – and man does it take a lot of courage to outrun it.  However, after getting up early and finishing the first uphill mile after a long hiatus at a solid pace in the cold when staying in bed this morning sounded so much better, there is only one thing to say to Doubt. Suck it.

Mar 14 2014
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renew

The Son of a Preacher Man

Lately, I’ve been unable to shake the desire to email an old boyfriend. Not for any other reason than to tell him, hey, thank you for being a great person.  RT3 was raised by Pastor Bob and Tootse.  Raised in Kentucky, their jobs brought them to this metropolis when RT3 was young. I remember the day I first met them.  I was 22 and they embraced me from the minute I walked through the door of their north suburban rambler.  He was clearly an apple of their limbs – and they are all some of the best people I’ve ever met.

I had a crush on him in college well before he ever noticed me. We dated for a little over a year after graduation and I so badly wanted to love him like he loved me.  I didn’t understand how I couldn’t be attracted this wonderful human being – or, in the least make myself be.

It took a few years, but we became friends after our relationship ended.  Great friends.  And then he met his now wife.  Even though I was second only to his sister as the most harmless person to their relationship, I still was a girl that RT3 used to date.  For a long time after we lost touch, I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t be happy for him when I felt such injustice that he had taken his friendship away when I didn’t do anything wrong. Eventually, I got over myself. I’d like to say it was because I saw how happy he was.  But more likely it was because time dulls all feelings.

It wasn’t until TB expressed his frustration with me hanging out with an old boyfriend did I have an inkling of the position RT3 had been in with his then-girlfriend about me those years ago.  It super sucked to send to him the email to tell him I couldn’t meet up for happy hour anymore because it made my husband too uncomfortable.

Today, I want to tell him that he’s one of the best men I’ve ever known. And that I’m so glad he was a big part of my life.  I want to tell him that I’m sad we can’t be better friends but he’ll always be among the blessings I count in my life. And last, I want to tell him I attribute to him, in part, that I picked a good one who treats me well.  After all, he was the first guy in the aftermath of my formative years who demonstrated how a guy is supposed to love a girl.

But, that’s kind of a weird email to send.  And probably a weird email to receive.  So I’ll just tell the internet instead.

Feb 11 2014
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reduce, wellness

Hibernesting

Hibernesting.  As in I have been in a state of rest at home much of the last three months.

For the first time really, I feel in a state of peace.  And I am reveling in it.

November launched a new career at a new company as well as the beginning of a drug regimen to provide a crutch to the happiness and peace chemicals in my brain until they can stand alone.

December brought a much-needed vacation for TB and me. We were both probably too exhausted to fully enjoy the week in Hawaii, but grateful to stop nonetheless.  I didn’t even feel an ounce of guilt that we skipped the Christmas decorations.  In fact, I was grateful for the decision on December 26.

January was busy. I agreed to contract back with the nonprofit and found myself working full time and an additional 15-20 hours  a week in nonprofitland.  The contract expired at the end of the month and I was happy to have helped (as well as to make up the $4,000 pay cut from the career change) and even happier to turn in my keys.

February has been, so far, a state of blissful rest.  Work. Rest. Sleep. Repeat.  It’s been lovely.  Eventually, and thankfully, I will tire of resting, but right now, hibernesting has been a glorious experience.

Nov 16 2013
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OFL, BFF, BOOF! et al

As I prepare to leave nonprofitland next week, I can’t help but reflect upon the people I’ll also be leaving behind.  BFF is the band-aid holding the place together after Our Fearless Leader (OFL) left in August.  BFF has horrible boundaries and desperately craves acceptance from everyone.  I saw a lot of myself circa 2004 in her and I was antipathetic towards her for it.  Now, I’m merely feel sympathy as she’s rounding 60 and may possibly never learn to find value in herself rather than in the approval of others.

OFL’s departure was the reason I ramped up the job search. She was a brilliant leader.  Only in her absence, however, did it become clear how much shock she absorbed by serving as a buffer between the staff and BOOF!  BOOF! is the chair of nonprofitland’s board, pushing 80, and an idiot.  But she’s a dangerous idiot in that her decisions are based on power and in interests other than the people the organization is designed to help. She is a primary reason I’m moving on and I’m grateful that after next Friday, BOOF! will be a person so unimportant, her real name will fade from memory.  Like Diet Coke Guy. His name has been long forgotten in the decade since, but his self-aggrandizing behavior will forever be infamous.

Nonprofitland’s people were not all case studies. I will miss Bagel.  Bagel is the Finance Director.  She is the same age as my mom, a self-proclaimed ‘angry lesbian’, and one of the kindest people I’ve met.  She’s a bagel — crusty and hard on the outside but a big ‘ol softy on the inside.  She’s probably in my top five favorite co-workers of all time.  She and her partner of 24 years ‘married’ on Nov 1 — as they were finally allowed to by the same type of arrogant zealots who wield powerful ignorance over nonprofitland.  It sometimes seems for every act of benevolence there is an equal act of malevolence in organized religion.

This morning, I rose early and excitedly from bed.  The misadventures of BOOF! and BFF are coming to a close in my book of life.  I am delighted to start the next story.

Oct 31 2013
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adventure, reduce

The End of an Era

photo2 The view from the last event I plan to ever plan.

I am retiring from event planning and I’ve found it to be incredibly important to me to pay homage to the last twelve years, even if just privately. I poured so much of myself into this career, it would feel anticlimactic to simply flip off the lights, close the door, and walk out for the last time without honoring it.

But, alas, there isn’t much to say after all. It’s the feeling of finishing the last page of a really good book.  There are many feelings involved and such a gratitude for the experiences,  but ultimately, I’m already looking forward at what’s next as I close this wonderful novel and take a deep and rewarding breath.

xxxx
Event Planner Brilliant Event Planner
September 4, 2001 – November 22, 2013.

Oct 22 2013
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depression, renew

The Best Laid Plans

On August 6 I declared, “The next three months I’ll spend trying to holistically rid myself of this depression through yoga, talk therapy, St. John’s Wort, massage, and exercise.”

What’s that quote? Life happens when you’re making other plans?  Yep.

I have a new thing. I’m sure those closest to me could tally up quite a list of the new things I’ve proclaimed over the years. There was the year I didn’t eat McDonald’s. The time I wanted to see how long it took me to see the license plates of all of the states and D.C. in my home state. Then the times I did Crossfit, trained for the marathon, joined a water ski team, took a pottery class, then a stained glass class, joined a yoga studio, ate healthy during the week and whatever I wanted on the weekend, not to mention the time I only ingested smoothies for lunch or the time I wouldn’t watch television if I hadn’t exercised for at least 30 minutes…

I probably have about a 70% success rate because I did run a marathon, I did ski with a team for two years, I did make pottery and stained glass, I did see the plates of all fifty states and D.C., and I did not eat McDonald’s for an entire year. The most glaring failures have been with food and exercise.  I’m obviously not picking sustainable things for me. Even yoga. I really enjoyed the workout, but am not driven to do it. In looking at the one activity in which I’ve had the most success, it’s running.

Treads has been with me since 2006.  Together, she and I have run two marathons, four half-marathons, and hundreds of miles in between. We’ve run in snow, rain, at 5:00 a.m. to avoid the heat and at 8:00 p.m. because that’s the only time we could. We’ve run through my mom’s stroke, her husband’s unemployment, S’s cancer, the death of her grandmother, an so on. We’ve run in every condition – both environmentally and emotionally.

I’m not successful in running because I like it. I’m successful because it’s something that my living, breathing journal and I do together.  I’m successful because it’s cathartic.  Running gives me the opportunity to release negative or positive energy and then immediately burn it off.

Treads and I will pick back up in March to train for a half and a full marathon in 2014.  But I need to figure out what it is that I will do between now and then. I’m beginning to think the stagnation is a catalyst in my malaise.

I have until November 6 before I said I would see a psychiatrist about antidepressants.  Since it’s my desire to do this organically if possible, I better kick the August 6 plan into gear or, in the least, figure out a new thing that is sustainable and will aid in recovery from this depression.

Sep 01 2013
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mental illness, reduce, Uncategorized

PTSDawhaaaa?

As if it were a few weeks ago, I remember sitting in the office of my brother’s attorney listening to his presentation on the horrors seen by soldiers in Afghanistan. Mouth agape, I watched the accompanying slideshow containing images not one person in humankind should ever see. When I looked at my brother in disbelief, he gave a slight nod and a shrug.  I knew it was bad. I had no idea it was that awful.

He arrived home from two tours and four years in the United States Marine Corps with baggage that included his duffel and a mental illness.

PTSD is something soldiers contract after time spent collecting blown off body parts, after experiencing ‘pink mist’, or after shooting a dog that came too close because it might be unwittingly harboring a bomb.  PTSD is what happens when my brother watched the guy beside him shot in the head by a sniper. It’s what can occur naturally when 6 of 40 soldiers brothers, don’t come home.

So imagine the surprise when the therapist said, “I believe you to have PTSD.”

PTSD?  No way. I’ve never been to war. I’ve never been raped or beaten or seen another person die.  I’ve never experience trauma.

Funny how we see ourselves though. According to her, my life has been saturated with trauma.

It took a little convincing, but the more I paid attention, the more I started to understand.  One of the lifetime mantras that kept me functioning was: Someone else had it worse. Someone else was raped by their stepfather, not just exploited or manipulated into sexual acts. Someone else’s mother left marks when she hit, not just psychological scars.  Someone else didn’t get to say goodbye to their best friend, instead of having the opportunity to make the end count. Someone else’s brother succeeded in his suicide attempt, rather than watching him survive and make a 180-degree change. Someone else’s brother died in Afghanistan, instead of coming home broken. Someone else lost the whole of their mother to mental illness, and I’ve only lost most. Someone else got PTSD from their trauma, where I just have a hard time sometimes.

Someone else had it worse was a mantra of survival. It was buoyant when I might have otherwise sunk had I known how much better it should have been.

I had it bad.  I told my mom that my dad sexually abused me and that was the straw beam that broke the camel’s back.  She was hospitalized in the psych ward for six weeks.  I learned a detrimental lesson at the age of six – if you tell your mom, she will have a mental breakdown and you will be left. Alone. With him.

I had it bad. I used to provoke my mom until she would hit me so I could physically feel what I felt inside.

I have it bad. My best friend is dying.

I have it bad. My mom is so sick and has been for so long.

Mantra be damned. I have it bad.

Aug 07 2013
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You Are Not Important to Me

Being a fan of new perspectives, I was happy to feel enlightened by this video: http://bit.ly/19ObJbA

I am of the school of thought that venting and ‘getting it out’ was a purge of the negativity.  Alison Ledgerwood, a PhD in psychology, disagrees. She said voicing negativity only perpetuates the negativity.  She suggested to refocus on the positive. Instead of talking about the loss in life, talk about the gain.

It’s worth a try. I am a highly critical person and I don’t like that about myself. So in the interest of making a change, here’s what went right today thus far:

  • I woke up next to my favorite person in the world on the first day of the third year of our marriage.
  • Our family grew by one two days ago when we brought Olive home.  She’s a two-year-old black cat that I feel confident we saved from peril at the shelter.  She’s also helping me realize that maybe I can have a kid.
  • I had GREAT pizza for lunch.
  • It is a beautiful sunny day.

Ledgerwood also talked about forgiving. This is a little trickier because letting things go is not an area in which I excel.  I need to work on making the message more positive, but when someone is rude to me, I’ve been repeating to myself, you are not important to me in an effort to let it go. It does calm me down and keep me from fixating on the hurt feelings.  Perhaps, I won’t let your actions affect me instead.

I’ll work on it – all of it.

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