All I can say is...

It's been a month.

So, K is a little weirded out by the fact that I have a blog and could potentially be leaking all kinds of information about our personal life out to the world. And since he doesn't want the link he doesn't know that I really don't share that much. So out of respect for him, this will be the last post that talks about him and/or us for a while - so until something major happens or I feel hugely compelled to write.

But I have to share that it's been a month. A whole month. An ENTIRE MONTH of dating K. And it's pretty great. I like being around him. He's sweet and kind and funny and smart and tells me that I'm great. We're still facing the "challenge" of race. I'm still a wee bit paranoid that people are staring. We've stopped discussing the challenge of having to tell his parents eventually, but it's there. And definitely gives me pause before I get "in too deep." He's close to his family and depending on ho hard of a time they gave him about it, I don't want my heart trampled if they don't like me or me being black.

Other than that, I'm just glad to finally be gaining some insight into being in a relationship and figuring myself out. As much as there's a part of me who doesn't want to get too far into it and really resents the fact that I could be dating him for a while and nothing could come of it, I'm starting to see the value in "recreational dating." Yes, I like having someone who tells me I'm great and gives me the most amazing adoring looks. But, I also am learning about me and what I want and how to pick my battles in a way I never did in other relationships. We've had small (miniscule) disagreements over tiny (teensy) things, and I'm figuring out what matters and how to say it and how to just be. And how to read into what he's not saying vs what he is.

But that's it - for now.

Society's continued assault on black women

Maybe it's an assault on women in general.

But I'm focusing on me.

A black woman. A black woman who definitely has to put on some armor before facing whatever it is that the world has in store for me on a given day.

And is tired of it. And frightened by what it's doing to our younger girls.

The granddaughter of a family friend came to visit last weekend. Her grandmother wanted to introduce her to my world and show the benefits of not giving into what seems to be expected of our young black girls: sexual promiscuity, low self esteem, being unhealthy, not being smart, not being successful, not being whatever it is that she wants to be.

I was, of course, flattered, nervous, and intimidated by her visit. I've heard good reports from her mother and grandmother about some positive changes. YAY! But I have to say I learned so much from her too. Mostly that I'm SO glad I went to high school 7-10 years ago. The things she was telling me - the peer pressure around sex and dating and academic success (or lack there of) saddened me. I'm terrified that there's a whole generation of black girls growing up who think that the entirety of their value lies between their legs and that being smart and confident is unnecessary. There's also a generation of black boys who think that their value lies in acquiring notches on their bed post and who have been told that they don't need to respect women. She has more "Ay, Shawty" stories than I do and she's 10 years younger than I. On one hand, I'm sure she'll be street wise enough to ignore guys she doesn't meet indoors, but what type of world is it where you have to be wary of everyone who approaches you. And the kicker. The piece de resistance is that she has classmates who made a "hit it before summer" list. Yes...a list of the girls they wanted to do before summer. And they're FRESHMEN. In HIGH SCHOOL.



Maybe (just maybe) I grew up in a box. Actually, not only was I a virign when I got to college, but I'd also never been kissed. Yeah, ok, maybe part of that was because no one was paying me any attention, but it was also SO far from my mind. I was so focused on getting the heck out of Indiana and succeeding, that I wasn't thinking about boys and sex, I knew that that would get in the way of my actual goals. So the idea that 9th graders are that scheming and deliberate about something that is so "outside their maturity level"[1] frightens me.

And it makes me wonder why. So I asked her. I had always been a defender of "the media" and of multinational corporations. No more. Apparently that is a driving force. Apparently all of the hyper-sexualized images that are bombarding our kids are seeping in. I know...wonder of all wonders, right? But really. She says it does.

Whoa.

Nevertheless - that was all backstory for the rant of the day. I'm checking my favorite blogs, and I see this:

Yes. It's my favorite celebrity, Beyoncé, showing off the great photoshop job that L'Oreal did. L'Oreal swears that's her real skin tone. Sure. I've never liked Beyonce for a NUMBER of reasons - mostly because I'm thoroughly convinced that she's cheap and talentless. But in all fairness, if she was white I'd have no problem with it (see example 1: Jessica Simpson or 2: Britney Spears). They're good at what they're good at but they're not exactly beacons of anything great. But this is taking it a little far. Really? Do you really have to take a light-skinned black girl and make her lighter? On top of the blond? Really? REALLY? But apparently she's just been lightening a little bit on her own.

This is only weeks after Young Berg's Brown Bottom-gate issues. If you didn't hear about it, consider yourself lucky. But basically one of the latest mediocre rappers said that he doesnt like dark skinned girls (brown bottoms) and likes to issue a swimming pool test (aka likes girls with "wash n wear" hair - meaning no naps). And this bozo is still getting air time and probably still getting laid by some poor little girl with light skin but no self respect.

And where does it stop? At what point do we say, enough is enough? At what point does it stop being cool to simultaneously erode the sexuality of black women by rarely showing us as standards of beauty while placing all emphasis on not our beauty, but our supposed sexual prowess? It makes me dizzy. What kind of women are these girls going to grow up to be? Not the kind of women I want to be sharing the workforce (or the world) with.

So this is war. I'm investigating lyrics and taking all rumors of mysogyny as fact. I never used L'Oreal (or any of it's syster brands, including Lancome) and I'm not going to start now. I'm not listening to the music, watching the movies, or buying the products anymore. Let's just call it a new wave of black feminism that demands that society, "the media", multinational corporations and EVERY ONE ELSE, stop using our music, our faces, our men, and each other to tear us down.

So who's with me?

When it rains, it...yeah

So after years of meeting jerks or no one, I meet not one, but 2 nice guys in a week. TWO!

So, yeah, Friday, I went to the symphony with K (real nicknames to be created eventually). Then we went to dinner then drinks then watched a movie at his place. Yeah - that's a lot in an evening. But he's fun. He's chill. He's as culturally conflicted as I, but um...isn't black. I'm HUGELY paranoid that people are looking at us. I mean, if they are, that's their problem, but it's such a huge challenge for me right now. I've only dated one other non-black guy, and like K, he was from a pretty traditional family for his culture....they weren't so much cool with the black chick. This is totally jumping the gun - but it's something that is kinda poking me in the back of the head before I go too far, Anyway, I also saw him Saturday at a BBQ for his roommate's birthday. What I can say is that I truly enjoy being around him. There's not many people that I could spend hours and hours with and not get annoyed by something. It's very comfortable - when I'm not dealing with the superficial.

Then Sunday, I went out with C - a guy I met on match. He emailed me last week, and we've exchanged a few really long emails, but had some really horrible phone calls - neither of us are very good phone people, so there was a lot of silence both times. He and I went for a walk and a picnic at Lake Chabot. It was really a great first date. Like perfect. And he's really sweet. He brought 4 or 5 different sandwiches so I could pick. There was less silence in real life, but still not as easy as talking with K.

But, the thing is, I had a really great weekend. And I've now met 2 really nice guys. And one looks like he could be related to Antonio Bandaras. Seriously.

And I'm trying to not let it freak me out. In a yet to be written blog article, I'll post about a recent epiphany about faith and forgiveness. But I recently prayed to be able to forgive the Enigma - and I really didn't think about him till today. And I'm really trying to just stay open to the possibilities. That's why I'm not letting the stupid, superficial thoughts about race or a few awkward conversations (I was def nervous...wonder about him) stand in the way of something great. Nor am I letting the fact that the Enigma was a jerk force me to be unnecessarily protective of my feelings. So I'm just enjoying for now.

Singing in the rain...so to speak

When being cute is ugly

I’m a on a health kick lately, so I’ve been spending more time at the gym and less time at the bar. One of my favorite spinning instructors has started teaching a shadow boxing class, so I decided to give it a try. It’s a combination of boxing drills with cardio and plyometric intervals. It was fun.

Except for the 3 “cute” girls in the class.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in looking put together at all times. I try to make sure my gym clothes match and I comb my hair before showing up, but that’s the extent of my attempts to look cute before the gym. I’m there to get ugly, sweaty, stinky and dirty. If I’m not dripping with sweat and feeling/looking whooped, then it’s not a good work out.

Which is a mindset that makes me different from about 90% of the other black women at the gym. The 3 cute girls in this class had the idea that the gym is a great place to meet guys while kinda doing something active. One kept posing and trying to keep her hair in place. The other two spent at least 25 of the 45 minute class talking to each other while standing or sitting still. Every tough drill was met with mumbles, grumbles, sighs and finally, standing still to talk. Then after class, they put their coordinating jackets on, grabbed their puma bags and walked to their car as if they’d really done something.

This morning, I told the instructor that I had wanted to ask them to leave. Quite honestly, they were distracting me. Plus why were they there, if not to work? What I said opened up the flood gates of 5 weeks of frustration from teaching these women. As a black man who (I guess) frequently dates white women and who puts a lot of time and effort into staying in shape and being healthy, he was perturbed by their “cute” behavior. He spent 10, maybe 15, minutes talking about the frustration of seeing our community deal with preventable illnesses that are attributable to sedentary lifestyles and bad eating. He talked about not seeing blacks on the many FREE hiking trails we have around here (yeah – I’ve experienced that, too). And of seeing the black women stand around the gym and his class and thinking that it’s “cute.” And of having to defend his decision to date white women even though they have more closely aligned interests to him.

And then he asked me why they do that. Well for his class it’s easy. He’s very good looking and likable. Spending an hour with him is pretty cool. These girls probably are looking “cute” for him. But they’re missing the whole point that he’s in shape and healthy and is probably looking for the same thing (or something similar) in a potential mate – meaning that standing around is not going to work for him. In one girl’s defense, she was actually moving, so she’s caught on to that point.

But really, why are we, as black women, willing to sacrifice our health, happiness, and life for vanity? There’s a guest post on one of my favorite blogs AverageBro today. The author used one paragraph to talk about the few black women he saw at a recent Atlanta Braves game. Apparently these women were in heels and were…well…being cute. He used this as an opportunity to point out that when white women go to games, they dress down and maybe this was just another example of why black men date white women. When the comments flared up, he defended his statement, explaining that baseball isn’t the only reason, but is one instance where black women and men aren’t speaking the same language

Like this author, I don’t think that being “cute” is the cause of the demise of the black family, bad health or anything else. But I do think that being “cute” is hindering the growth of black women. The fear of sweating back our hair, the squeezing into that outfit for that event, the whatever we do for the sake of being "cute" – holds us back from experiencing so much in life. What would happen if we just said – I’m going to work out so I can be healthy. We’d be healthy….and cuter. Or if we said – I’m going to go to the baseball game and be comfy and wear my team’s hat and get a hot dog (cause you know eating will mess up your lipstick). We’d have fun…and be cuter.

Here’s the secret being “cute” is not cute. In fact, it’s ugly. Real ugly. Living life, having fun, and being open to new experiences – that’s cute.

Adventures in (not) dating

Yeah – I’m back on Match.com. Because I’m a masochist, obviously. I love the self-torture of subjecting myself to paying for reject. FUN!

So things didn’t work out with the figment of my imagination. We met once. Hung out for HOURS playing Scrabble, drinking tea, and having dinner. Yes, he was fat and not rich and had HORRIBLE clothes (truly tragic clothing). But he was nice and sweet, and I had thoroughly enjoyed his company and conversation over the months. Of course after we met, he disappeared. Just like – whoosh – gone.

So that’s over. Haven’t heard from the enigma or the old man either. I occasionally think of them, but it’s not as hard as it was back in March.

So it’s just Match.com for now…which is pretty horrible. I posted the picture that’s also my profile picture here – I’ve had lots of looks at my profile, but only 2 emails. Seriously – that’s less than a 2% response rate. I’ve emailed guys and have had 0 responses. Um, yeah. It’s definitely driving me crazy. I’m a results-oriented person….so I’m getting pretty obsessed with the fact that there’s no results.

So that’s that – same song, different day – sorry there’s nothing more exciting to say there.

I am my hair….or Why my afro is an act of courage

Not quite a year ago I got a weave. It seemed like an okay idea at the time, I was trying to grow my hair out and was bored with braids. I have to admit, I loved it. It was fun. I got looks. No dates, but lots of “Hey, Shawty-s” – which is what every woman wants, right?.
Well, my hair grew. And in March, my stylist said it was getting too long to reasonably keep putting it in a weave. So a few weeks ago, I took it out. That night, I let her blow it dry and flat iron/press it. I’ve flat ironed it twice since and have not enjoyed the hassle of dealing with it, plus I’ve fried a corner of it and my curls are doing something funky – probably cause I had the heat too high.

So now, I’m rocking the afro and its variants.

I like it. It looks like me. It’s work to get the curls right and bright and glossy and defined, but it looks good on me – I think at least. And when my outfit is right, I think it looks very chic…like how I think that a black Michael Kors or J Crew model should look – classic, but with a funky twist. And the little girls at church like it – and I think that if a 5 or 10 year old likes it, that’s saying something, because they’re so much more honest than the rest of us.

But I’ve had at least 5 grown ups ask me: what are you doing with your hair now? My answer is: wear my hair. To which they reply: “Oh.” Because not straightening or texturizing or braiding or weaving my hair is such a crazy idea, right? Heaven forbid I just wear my hair.

Which is why my afro is an act of courage. Yeah, I’ll probably straighten it on first and second and third dates and for interviews or any other high-importance event because people do not seem to be with it as far afros. But the rest of the time, I’m being brave enough to wear my hair. Plus – it’s just hair. Hell-O…I’ve been bald before and would shave it again in a heart beat. My new job is with an organization whose mission is to inspire girls to be strong, smart, and bold, and staff is expected to model that mindset everyday at the office. In a little way, I hope that my afro encourages the girls that are around the office to be healthy with all decisions – including hair care and wearing the hair they’re given.

My afro is an act of loving myself and finding the courage to be happy with my beauty. And I’m trying – every day – to be more like my hair.

Hurry up and wait...

I feel like that's my life right now. There's so much going on - some I can share, some I can't. In general, I feel an interesting mix of in control and out. And the things that are out of control are more in regards to things that I want to happen but aren't yet.

So what's in control? I can say that I have developed a fair degree of assertiveness. Not completely. But I've been taking care of myself. And deciding that I want to get as much as I give. This is not meant in specific to anything in particular. But a couple situation and the way I deal with things in general. I have a feeling that some other feelings may be hurt about this - and that it may seem that I'm pulling away. But Dr. B told me months ago that part of treatment is building constructive relationships - and that some will work, some won't.

What's out of control - aha...the usual. The enigma is moving to China. Starting a business. And like a brilliant fool, I've volunteered to help with the marketing. It's a great experience, but probably not the greatest idea on my part. I can't help but to hate him at times. Sleeping with him was the first time that I didn't feel in control of my sexuality. I remember writing in my old, completely personal/private blog that that was the one time that I didn't feel like the "... kickass, third wave, feminist who is control of her sexual destiny." And that instead, I felt "...Weirdly vulnerable. Curious about where this goes from here. Scared." Not sure if it's all positive that I was scared...I don't know if it's now my general cynical, skeptical nature to question it. Months later now, I replay that night in my head and all I can think is that I got played. Either I was fooling myself then or I was fooling myself the other times when I thought I was kickass and in control, but I think majority rules. I was played. I can't blame him for it - I allowed it. But I can't help but hate him at times.

In other news - I rejoined match.com. I've met 1 guy - he's nice. We went salsa dancing last weekend. We'll see how it goes from there. It's a bit disappointing that he's the only one. It's so frustrating...I'm great. I know that, you know that, EVERYONE knows that - right? So why the hell, is there no one else finding me - online or off - and thinking that I'm great? I didn't expect to necessarily find Mr. Right online - or even Mr. Right-Now - but I did hope to go on dates, to meet people, to at least see some progress. And I still swear that if I hear: "when you stop looking..." What??? When I stop looking I'll find myself the statistical 39 year old, never married, educated, successful black woman. I am by nature a problem solver - but what do you do when you can't plug something into a spreadsheet or make up action items? I am doing everything right.

Which, quite honestly, is how I feel about so much of my life. Now and for the last few years - personally, professionally, emotionally. I am doing everything right and still so much is wrong. It's like can I get a freaking bone? Just something. For a while. That won't crash and burn.

Other stuff...can't really share. I do currently have the stomach flu - I've had it for a week. No I am not pregnant. A coworker asked me that today - yes, she is still alive - but no, I am not pregnant. That's quite the terrifying thought. But quite timely given that today is the 35th anniversary of Roe v Wade. Yay! I have to say that I am quite grateful to live in a country and a time that not only allows choice, but also allows such a range of choice. I hope not to ever have to have an abortion - and since I have access to birth control, I should never have to.

And finally, in conclusion, I recently heard from.... let's call him the one who got away version 1...I realized - I used to think about politics and the world. I may start writing about that on occasion and think about something...someone... other than myself.

Holiday Summary

ummmmm - I go in reverse.

New Year's in Phoenix -
was great. Nadia and Ben are insanely nice. IU lost the game, but we still had a blast. I had a nice time at their friend's party. Talked to people, drank, that's about it.

Christmas in Chicago-
I don't know. Christmas day was good. It was calm. We chilled. I liked that. I needed that. Mom doesn't get that I feel like I need to be "on" with the family. That I need to be smart and without fault and doesn't date the wrong guys, in fact doesn't date at all until I find someone (similarly perfect) to marry. I don't know what to talk about. She's always bringing up that no one else listens to NPR and I don't expect them to. But since I do and I dont have a TV - I feel like there's nothing to talk about. I can't talk about music with the kids - I'm usually months behind. The ones who are close to my age are interested in different stuff. So I enjoyed this new holiday. She said she did but wouldn't want to do it again. I don't know

The day after Christmas, though - I apparently ruined it. We were getting dressed to go to dinner with her friend Stephanie. Marc (the boyfriend) invited himself and Stephanie's boyfriend to dinner. I said "great, Im going to be 5th wheel to 2 couples". It wasn't something that I was relishing. And I wasn't ready to spend time with the boyfriend yet. She had just been with him. This was MY time. I also commented that it felt like he called a lot on Christmas. And it just unraveled.

It's funny that she gets frustrated that I see her love/affection as a finite amount and I have some or I have none, but she does the same with the way I see things. So I can't enjoy Christmas and feel hurt that he's calling all the time. She can't be a good mother and me feel hurt or upset about things in the past.

Anyway - we spent hours talking that night and the next morning. I'm still reeling from it. I just felt like I ruin everything. I ruined her perfect christmas (which I knew I'd do - I wrote it here) and I just ruin stuff. Do I ruin my own stuff?

And I met the kids. They're kids. Which makes it easier or harder. They're kids. They like her. It would almost be better if they didn't like her or were brats. Then I would know that they wouldn't replace me. But if I'm not there and they live with her, there's no way that I wouldn't be replaced - they would be more important. I don't know how to not think this. I have a hard enough time with her having a boyfriend - much less 3 people. I don't know how to think of love as anything other than a pie. And I want the biggest piece. And if theyre more people there's less pie for me.

Other than that - it's the new year. I made the usual resolution - get healthy. A new one - meet a guy. Didn't make one I should have - get better. The friends are on my case about the old man and the other guy - to get rid of them to find someone better. I want to but...it's hard to convince myself that I deserve better than either of them. Which is just kinda me. I'm fine with this dregs. Maybe. If I was I probably would just be very on the DL about it all. Which is what kevin says to do. So I probably mention it so that I get reminded that it's wrong. I'll get it straightened out...eventually. In the meantime, I joined match. Still trying to see if its a waste o fmoney.

So that's this year, so far. Of course - there will be updates.

Just When...

Just when I get you out of my head and my heart and my life.
Just when I think that it's possible that there could be
someone
else

(possible - you know - likely)

That eventually
I could
find
someone else.

Just when that idea enters my realm of possibility
because you have finally vacated that property in my head and my heart and my


everything,



You stop for a visit.
You sit down on my couch.
And I am suddenly reminded that

Just when
I thought all your belongings were gone
you are still,
in fact,
at home here
with me

in my head and heart and everything

And
Just when I think that I have no choice
but
to let you stay

I remember
that
Just when I let you in
you left

and
Just when I thought it was safe
to be open
to be alive
I start to question
if
I want to be open and alive
without you

Can I be
open and alive without you?

And
Just when I
realize
that I can

You come for a visit.

But don't get comfortable
because
just when
you think that you're here to stay.
It's likely

(likely - you know - possible)

that I will
kick you out

Brilliant and Fabulous: The Holidays, Pt. 3

I've had a great couple of days.

My party was a great success. Pretty much everyone who said they were coming cameand more. There was enough food. I got the place clean. The guys managed to get a fire in the fire place outside. I drank ENTIRELY too much and didn't feel well for much of the day on Monday.

I have to say, my apartment looked fabulous. Here are some pictures:

Then Monday, I had the celebration dinner for the Girls, Inc fundraiser I worked on. Tuesday, I went on a date that was set up by crazyblinddate.com. It was ok - nothing special and no one I'd be dying to see again. Then I saw guy from a couple weeks ago. It's been established that he's a confirmed old (but how old? no one knows) bachelor. I think I'm fine with the direction of things. I think. Or at least most of the time I'm mostly fine with it. It was nice, again.

Last night was the Yelp Holiday party. It was fine, long lines for food and drink, but that was expected, so I was chill. It was nice meeting some people I knew only from reviews and their online personas. It was slightly disappointing, because I'd pictured some people in my head and my imagination was better than the reality. I looked great - will post pictures later.

So today, I crashed. Of course having a great couple of days meant that I was generally riding too high to remember to take my medicine. And today my mind is going like a carousel on crack. each of the horses is bouncing up and down and my mind is spinning - and I just wanna get off! If I could just slow it down. And focus on one thought at a time. But instead it's just zing zing zing. So today, I'm not fine with the direction of things. I just want someone who fucking wants ME. Doesn't want to just fuck me. Wants ME. Loves me. Of course I have overlydemanding, weird ideas about what love is. I probably couldn't handle a real relationship now if I could have one. I'm still in my deluded little world of self-sabotage.

And mom wants my thoughts on Chrristmas and she's trying so hard and I'm still crazy. I still don't know what I want from Christmas and she wants to know and wants me to meet the boyfriends kids. Oh my god - What if they don't like me? What if I don't like them? Do I actually have a choice?

I've been feeling like - for the last few days - there are times when I'm watching myself from outside myself. And I think: I can do this. I can be normal. I can socialize. I can be likable. I can trust people. I can like myself. I can trust myself. I can be happy. Why can't I belike that all the time. Why do I have to have days like today where I think I can't make decisions. Where I think that the decisions I make are bad. Where I think I'll be alone forever...or at least that I deserve to be alone forever because I'd ruin it otherwise.

But I can't let myself just stop and consider this. I'm seeing Dr. B next friday. Tonight I have tutoring and another crazyblinddate. Tomorrow is the Oakland Art Murmur and I'm helping with the Oaklandunwrapped.org booth. Saturday I'm mattress shopping and going to Lise's birthday party. Sunday is the yelp cookie exchange. I think I get a break next monday aund tuesday before the madness starts up again. I am going to sleep in on saturday, and try to get a hike in on sunday.

Round 2

I would guess that 3 out of every 5 visits I have with my mom end up with us having the same argument. I don't even know if it's an argument. Logically - no. There's no way to win it or lose it, but we aren't communicating. At all.

I don't know how the argument starts. And then we're in it. Usually the phrases coming from me are about her marrying my ex-stepdad...and how he (to put it nicely) wasn't the nicest person ever, but she stayed because he made sure we could keep our life in the 'burbs. From her - it goes in the direction of "Fine, I'm a horrible mother and you hate me". Words I never actually say. Then she says, "I'm sick of you dumping on me and I don't know how to make you happy. Would you have been happy if we were poor?"

Usually this argument just dies out. But lately it's gotten worse and worse and worse.

I don't know how to explain it. I don't know anything...or I don't know much at least.

This is what I know...
I don't hate my mom. Or at least I'm pretty sure (like 99%) that I don't. Do I get annoyed? yes. Do I resent certain decisions that she's made that affected my life? yes. But I don't "hate" her.

I feel conflicted about my stepdad and our life with him. It would be so much easier if he was always an asshole. But he wasn't. There were times when he was genuinely nice. And fun. God, most of the kids at school, especially in elementary school LOVED him. He was funny, and entertaining. But he was also cruel and demanding and demeaning. Yes, he would (sometimes) defend my messy room. But other times, be blindingly angry about it. His standards were high and constantly shifting. It was always hard to know exactly what was expected of me...If not perfection than something close? I needed to be smarter, more talented at everything, more athletic. Towards the end of high school, especially junior year, he became more and more erratic - at least in my memory. And harder and harder to please.

I know at least that I had a great childhood from the perspective of someone trying to build an "ideal" child. Great school,, great neighborhood, great extracurricular activities, smiling supportive parents. But the other side was really hard. I can't play "what-if". I probably would still suffer from depression no matter where or with whom I was raised. But it's too much in my head to say: what if I'd had parents who noticed when I started sliding, who would have pushed harder for me to recognize my issues. What if I didn't have someone whose behavior was unpredictable as a stepdad - whose love wasn't predicated on some unattainable bar and traded for insults and yells? Who knows - I can't do that. I'm here. I'm here with the background that I had.

Stability scares me but I want it. The sound of garage doors still makes my heart race. I don't hear them too often any more. But if I picture it...yeah. I want to look around and start scrambling to make sure nothing is wrong....like I did for most of my adolescence. When he'd come home, you'd never know what personality you were going to get. There would be days and weeks at a time when things would go well and then BLAM! something, someone would set him off and there was no way of predicting it. The day to day yoyo is still what I expect. And I suspect that I create my own bad days just because having too many good ones in a row is too uncomfortable.

But more than that - the last few years have...I can;t think of a non idiotic sounding metaphor. When you go away to college, you go away knowing that somethings and some people will change. But for me, I feel like EVERYTHING is always changing. There's this shifting definition of "home" that has now basically disappeared. I went home for thanksgiving freshman year...and things were normal. By Christmas, my parents were deciding to separate. By spring break, my stepdad wasn't living in our house. By summer break we didn't have that house. By the next thanksgiving we had yet another new house. Then was the first Christmas without my stepdad...who BTW had stolen a lot of our Christmas decorations. But things were kinda consistent for a while. There was a groove. Then there was another move - I don't even remember when that one happened. That was the first one where my room wasn't really my room any more. It was now the guest room where some of my things were. Now Mom lives in Chicago. And that's a really good thing for her. REALLY good. But I don't have a room there. I sleep on the couch. Or if someone else is visiting, I sleep with mom in her room. I have no clothes there. I brought this up last night when we were talking and she acted like I was out of my mind for wanting a drawer a corner whatever. But it's not really just that. All of our family is still in Evansville. My 1 friend, Sarah, is in Evansville. I can't drive in Chicago cause mom has a fleet car that's not insured for me to drive. She offers me hangers to hang my clothes when I'm there. But mostly I live out of my suitcase. That has to remain hidden (along with any of my other belongings. It's not home. It's where she lives. I get it. It's a small space and she's a neat freak. But it is not comforting to have to hear constantly... can you put this (referring to my purse, my totebag...whatever) somewhere. Or to have to climb in and out of the space behind a chair just to get a book.

I can't describe how this all makes me feel. There are things and places that you count on. Even when you move thousands of miles away - you...or at least I never thought that it would all disappear and I wouldnt get to say good bye. I know my mom still(?) grieves over the loss of our house. I don't think she knows that I do, too. And more than just the house, I hate knowing, now, that I have no place to run to. There's no home for me anywhere.

So now as my friends get married and buy houses. It kinda freaks me out. Aren't they afraid of what could happen? What if they need/want to move quickly? Don't they realize that 1 in 3 marriages end in divorce? I'm so jealous that they are so confident that things won't change - or if they do it will be for the better. Or at least something they can handle. I want that. I want that, but I can't stop looking for the emergency exit because I know something will go wrong. Or that I'll need the emergency exit when I create something to go wrong.

I'll do whatever, just don't leave me The question I hate the most from nosy people is: so you're close to your mom, where does your dad live? Well...my father. The man who contributed 1/2 of my genetic makeup...including my butt, my eye shape and my messy tendencies...lives in Evansville. Yes, I was 20 minutes away from him most of my life and really only saw him a handful of times from age 6 (7?) to 17. I have a "younger brother" who is 16? 17? who knows. And my stepfather. The man I called dad. The man who I always thought would give me away at my wedding. The man who fussed at me to wear more clothes to prom. And dropped me off at college. He left me, too. The irrational in me still wonders what I could have done to keep either or both of them from not wanting me. Especially my father. I'm a good person. I was a great kid. Everyone in TOWN said that. But he didn't want me. And I know that there was no way to please my stepdad 40-50% of the time, but I tried. And he left me, too. What makes it worse is that my father was always involved in his son's life. And from when I used to talk to him (years ago) the son wasn't as smart as I. Or as cute. Or told as often how great he was - cause damnit I pushed myself to be great at everything. And chose that kid - and never wanted me.

And now - there's nothing mom can say to convince me that with the right offer I won't be traded in for the newer, better, less screwed up version. She thinks that I'm crazy because I pick up on the stupidest littlest things...and make them mean a lot. But I just still wanna know that I matter. That I won't be replaced. That I'm remembered when an evite goes out about an event that I should be invited to. And I know that's my crazy...not her's. But I don't know what to do about it. The rejection/replacement that I feel about her marriage to my stepdad is something that I don't know how to let go. I don't know how to trust that I'm good enough. Or not even that. Just trust that she actually loves me. But I don't know. I don't know what that feels like. I am so afraid of losing her. I am so afraid that she will change her mind about me. realistically 25 years after the fact, it's a little hard to say: screw it, I change my mind, I don't want this daughter. But she could. How do I deal with this? Without being this whiny, needy brat. That she seems to be growing to hate - which will just give her reason to replace me.

In the absence of actual feelings and thoughts...This spring, I saw a therapist who does psychodynamic counseling, as opposed to cognitive behavioral therapy. I wussed out and didn't see her past the intake. I was happy at that point. The wellbutrin had kicked in. I was kicking ass at doing the thought control thing....and she wanted me to start...feeling. She said that I was afraid (? - uncomfortable? unable?) to feel. As she witnessed me falling apart just trying to reach in and explain what was going on in my head/heart, she said that it was obvious that I was so ashamed to feel that I always hid it. She recommended that I come see her once or twice a week...to learn how to feel. And I didn't want to do that at that time. Damnit, I was happy. I didn't need to feel. I'd been feeling for all these years - and I didn't want to feel anythign else. And honestly I don't feel anything else. I keep trying to force myself to think of specific words to describe how I feel. Cause I'm not sad - all the time at least. I'm happy. maybe, sometimes. But those are toddler, preschool emotions. Not real ones. In the last 24 hours or so, I've tried to actually identify how I feel. Some of what's above is a step forward. But today I found a website that says that true emotional literacy means stating how you feel in 3 word sentences

So to be specific...
I feel discouraged. I feel disconnected. I feel rejected. I feel unworthy and inadequate. I feel needy. I feel scared. I feel confused. I feel uncertain. I feel ignored. I feel vulnerable

Last night, I thought about the discussion that started the first time we had this argument this week - Christmas plans and what I really wanted to do for Thanksgiving. I went home for Thanksgiving because mom wanted it. Or at least that's what I thought. I liked the quiet thanksgiving. I liked hosting it at my house. There was something even about Thanksgiving with me and Christmas with her - our family is the 2 of us...holidays should be shared between the 2 homes right? But she'd invited my uncle up. And had accused me of wanting to "keep her from people". So I didn't say: I like our tradition. Why are we changing it? I had the opportunity to go to Oregon to visit a friend, but I went to her. Because I thought that was what she wanted. And it was. Or not? Or she wanted to go to my aunt's house. But she doesn't want me to feel guilted. but she wants me to want to go to my aunt's house because she wants to go. AHHHHH!!!!! And it's no wonder I don't know what thoughts are in my head. I'm the most frustrating friend ever because I can never make a decision. I hate picking out the restuarant. I hate being the first to order, because I don't want to pick something more expensive than anyone else (lest they judge me). I don't pick the movie. My most common answers to questions of preference are: "I don't know" and "It doesn't matter". Or to poll my friends. Even if it's a decision about me - my hair. I get sooooo many inputs and ruminate for days before making a decision. Hell - I can't even buy a toaster oven without becoming stressed. Now some of that is probably me just being silly. But I'd much rather outsource decision making to others to keep the peace or to just make things faster. I try to guess their intentions/wants/expectations. Sometimes the outcome is fine with me. Sometimes it isn't. And mom made it abundantly clear that my indecision is annoying (to say the least) to others.

So last night, I tried to think - in the absence of expectation, what do I want to do for Christmas? I still can't think of a focused answer to that. I can see images of old Christmases that were good. But I can't have that. And I keep wanting to inject logic into any way that we could possibly translate those old images into something current. I keep remembering a Christmas - or maybe I've created a composite of a couple different ones - It was maybe 4th 5th or 6th grade or maybe older, but no...it seems like it really was 6th grade. I think. That was the year I got my CD player for Christmas, and the order of events makes sense for it to be that year. We had Chinese food for dinner Christmas Eve. We read the Christmas story from the Bible. We opened our presents. In the morning, I had 1 or 2 from Santa. Did we have breakfast? I think that was the year I got an espresso maker (yes I was a weird 11 year old...just think, this was PREstarbucks) - I thnk I fooled around with that...who cares. I just remember it was mellow. We had dinner at Aunt Ann's? We exchanged presents. Uncle Bob gave me the Des'ree CD.

But what does that mean for now? Do we eat Chinese food at Aunt Sharon's house on Christmas eve? When do we drive down to evansville? Will it even be the same?

At this point, given the way things were left with mom, the question may be completely invalid...

Finally, Distance makes the heart grow fonder? I don't call people. I only occasionally return calls. I usually have the intention to - but I never know what to talk about. What to say. What do theey want to hear? More than that - for someone who is afraid of being rejected, I make it pretty easy for me to be forgotten/ignored. I was told earlier this year that I am distant. That person later said that it was funny...cause I always seemed so cool, but with a little (or a lot) of digging the truth and my true feelings were there. In the last few weeks/months, I've gotten really good at being social. And I still keep people at arm's length or further. I don't call home or old friends or family because what would I say? they say: how are you? I say: tired? lonely? confused about what the guy I hooked up with saturday really wants? Why sit on the phone and have a superficial conversation? I don't know what the point of this paragraph is. I should call people. I should stay in touch. And I'll try.

Anyway - I feel better. A little after typing this. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep tonight - and rest. I'm posting this. And sending the link to my mom. I hope this helps(?). I don't know any more. I just know that more often than not - I actually put what I'm thinking/feeling in this blog. Or at least provide an accurate account of what's going on in my life. I know it's kinda one sided for me to write this looonnng diatribe. But she and I don't talk. Or we talk and don't listen to each other. We're so accustomed to what we think the other is going to say.

But no matter what it helped me to write this. I don't know what the next step is. I've contacted my therapist. Maybe there's a class, like my depression class, about relating to people? Maybe I actually need the psychodynamic counseling (though I'd rather not)? All I know is I'm tired. How do normal people go around feeling all the time? I now "get" why people use drugs. No, I'm not going to go find drugs. But if there's something that would just even me out then that would be nice.

The Holidays...

...Are here.

I had a lot going on last Christmas - in many many ways - which explained why I was stressed and anxious. Now - not so much. There's really little reason for me to feel the way I do right now.

Except for my crazy brain and heart. As I said in my last post, things are going well and not so well. I don't trust the well. Mom trusts the well. Mom is in love. Mom has a new boyfriend. The new boyfriend has kids. She wants to have one big happy family. Cause she's happy. I don't trust happy. Happily ever after is a fraud.

As is the idea of happy holidays. They were always sugar coated when I was growing up. We had this beautiful house and all the gifts and the party and the matching clothes. But there was always a fight or an argument or drama in the house.

And now - after years of that conditioning, I'm supposed to accept that this new man that seems great isn't going to be a complete asshole who leads my mom into leaving me high and dry and that this holiday is going to be great. I just want to go to sleep and wake up in February. I don't want to go through the next few months waiting for the inevitable fuck up. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the pain.

How do I not do this? How do I not fuck up my mom's happiness? Hell - how do I not fuck up my own happiness? Now that I'm moderately better at not thinking that I'm horrible, how do I expect better from life. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to believe in happily ever after. I deserve to have a happy holiday that is filled with friends and family, not the fear that it will all become unraveled. But how? Enough has happened this year for me to not entirely trust happily ever after. And for me to be significantly uncomfortable with just telling myself: "everything is going to be ok,". Everytime I've done that. Every time I've tried to "let go" - it ended badly. I like the control, the ease of the expected negative outcome. How do people live with thinking everything is rosy knowing damn well it probably won't be?

Of course I'm thinking this as I'm doing stupid, self-destructive stuff that will only make the inevitable bad even worse. If there were weapons involved in my internal conflicts, it would be bloody

1 step forward, x steps back

Not doing great. Not doing horribly, but not doing great. So many things are going well, that I feel ungrateful and unsettled about the not well stuff. I'm making friends and being social and making plans and being gutsy and when I'm doing that - I'm happy. I'm being quite awesome at that stuff. And then I get home, and my apartment is a mess, and all Iwant to do is eat ice cream and I'm lonely and pathetic. And I'm doing stupid stuff - like eating ice cream and staying up too late to go to 6Am spin and having too much to do after work to cook something real or workout and being fine with a guy only wanting me for sex because at least he wants me.



And apparently knowing that I'm being stupid and self destructive doesnt make me feel any better about being stupid and self destructive. I realize that they are my decisions. And I own them. I don't regret them. I just don't like them. The ice cream is great (yay haagen-dazs). The sex was (very) nice. I'm liking having time to be social and not stress about working out. Honestly there are 2 issues here. 1 is about balance - which was one of the last conversations I had with my therapist...I like losing weight, I like working out, but how do you do that and be social. I can only lose weight when I'm working out 2-3 hours for 4-5 days a week. And I need to be able to cook and plan and grocery shop. But I can't do that when EVERY evening I have something planned. And when the plans usually involve food. The second issue is that while I have a very full life right now, it's not enough. I just feel rejected. And it's even worse because I now have these great friends so I know that it's not that I'm completely hopeless, people seem to enjoy my company. They seem to want me around, to some degree at least. But no one wants me romantically. And I want that. I feel myself turning into this bitter and cynical and sad person every day. This person who is lonely and untrusting and unbelieving. And then I take it out on everyone around me. Cause I don;t understand why they have someone and I don't. What's wrong with me?

I know what the solutions to these issues are. Better planning and well...stop doing stupid stuff. But I don't want to. Well I'll attempt at the planning, but I'm enjoying having a life. I'm also (duh) enjoying the physical intimacy. It makes me feel like at least he wants me in that way...So I think I'm going to continue being stupid for a while.

hmmmmmmmm....

So it's fall now. And all I really want to do is curl up somewhere and sleep for a while. I've been pretty successful at being social though, and that's what's saving and distracting me from a general feeling of bleh. I'm just feeling a little antsy and unsettled. I know what I need to do about it, but I just need to do it - better said than done, though right?

It's just that some parts of life are (for the time being) very lined up and are good. Other parts need attention and effort. I was reminded this week of hat happens wen you ignore it and think that it's gone away...the real emotions and needs come out and blindside you. But since the universe has one hell of a sense of humor things may change just as quickly - which amuses and pleases me, so I'm banking on that to make the changes I don't have the energy to make.

My lack of discipline is showing

It's been a while since I updated. I'm quite possibly one of the least disciplined people in the world. There's so much I want to do and even more that I have to do - so I end up jumping from idea to idea, project to project...somethings get finished, somethings don't, and ongoing things get neglected. I want so much to be those people who get things done. But I'm not.

I know it has something to do with something. I can tell that I'm doing OK but not great. I'm still struggling with some emotions - not sure what they are (stress? anger? fear? sadness?) but I'm eating them and avoiding them. I've eaten so much crap lately. Recognizing this gets me an A for effort, but really doesn't mean anything. I did go to the store yesterday and buy (mostly) healthy stuff. I'm making a valiant effort to plan my meals and get to the gym. It's not just eating either. Until yesterday, my apartment was a disaster. Not just messy - but hazardly cluttered with stuff flung everywhere.

I've just been staying so busy - working, knitting, reading, going out. That's about it. Except I'm not just doing 1 thing at work - I'm usually doing 5. I've got 3 different knitting projects going. And I'm reading 4 books. And I don't just have 1 event to go to - I have 2 or 3 an evening. I know this is wrong. As Dr B told - you can't do more than 1 thing at a time - you can just do 1 thing and then another. I can see things starting to try their spiral, so I'm trying to hold it all together. Trying to control as much as I can. Trying... I like my 5 million projects. But I know things are suffering as a result. I may have to cool it - work on balance....finish a project or 2. Say NO to an invitation. Finish 1 book before starting another.

Thinking a bit - I realize that alot of what I have as outstanding projects or books or whatever are "commitments" to other people. I'm working on 1 scarf for myself - but all I can thinking about is finishing it so I have the needles to work on something for mom. I've got another 2 scarves for mom in the works. And I need to start this hat I promised I'd make kevin. And a ruffle scarf for Aunt Sharon. One of the books is for book club, 1 is for work, 2 are because I just felt like I had to read them. My new friends are sweet - they make it really hard to say no.
Of course it's even harder becacuse the fatalist in me is certain that the invites will stop coming - cause, you know...well I know they're not. But I keep thinking that every party, dinner out, happy hour is the last. I just need to remind myself that it's not.

Well blogger has a scheduled outage soon...I'm glad I figured this out. I can't make any promises that I can fix these things today or this week. But I guess - I have to remember - I can't do all this at once, and I can't please everybody all the time - the quality of all of it suffers...and so do I if I keep this up

This week in review

Wow - another unspectacular week. If you wanted to know how I'm doing - a little better. A little.

Why?

1. The friend that stood me up is now ignoring me. I don't get it. It's her malfunction, not mine, but hurts all the same

2. Had a nice first meeting with the Yelper book club Lust For kNowledge

3. I'm slightly freaked out for reasons I don't feel like sharing with the whole wide world. But I'm hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

4. I bought some fun yarn this week. Noro - I've never worked with it before, but I found a fun and interesting pattern that calls for it.

5. Earned some bonus points with my writing at work this week - that's always good.

6. I found out that the support group that was really working for me is going to be disbanded in 2 weeks

See - unspectacular. Not amazingly good or bad. But I have to have to have to get out of my funk over this weekend. It is non-negotiable. I have plans to go to a nice wine tasting hosted by Yelp for the Elite members on Monday and then Wednesday night I leave for what should be a fun weekend in Chicago. I don't have the time or the energy or the liberty to be all funked out.

No one tells you...

No one tells you that when you pack up all your shit and move across country to a city where you don't know anyone that you may end up living there for a year and still not have any reliable friends. They don't tell you that you will be unable to make any fun plans - even a few days ahead - because you never know what will happen.

My friend/co-worker Ann flaked on going to the Giants game tonight. I've been wanting to go to a game all season but had been unable to find anyone to go with me. This being the last week of the season (the Giants suck and will not being going to the playoffs), she agreed on Wednesday to go. I put 2 view reserved tickets over the 3rd base line on my debit card and have been so excited about it. Then it rained today. It's just supposed to be cold and foggy today (when isn't it), but she doesn't want to go. I texted my one other friend - nope, he doesn't either.

I've never had tons of friends. I'm too introverted and untrusting for that. I've always had my few close friends - wherever I am - and that's it. That's always been enough. Just 5 or 6 people who I could generally count on to keep me entertained and in good company whenever I was feeling like it. Which really isn't all that often. I've tried here. Joined things. Gone to random happy hours. Genuinely made an effort to be social and friendly - to build a network. For nothing. For a year later to be sitting here with $60 of tickets and no one to go with.

It wasn't always perfect in DC. Lord knows I had more than my share of lonely days. But let's face it - they were more than likely my own fault...the result of enjoying being isolated and being terrified that if I didn't inflict my own isolation, I may be isolated by the rest of the world anyway because why would anyone actually want to be in my company, right?

And so now - despite my efforts and good intentions - I'm still alone. The horrible negative voice in my head - the one I have worked so hard this year to shut off...regardless of everything that has happened - is having it's own little celebratory party. Reminding me of all the reasons why I don't have friends. Reminding me why it's not worth it to even try. It was so much easier to be lonely when I didn't want or need anything else. But now, really? What is the point? For whatever reason - I just don't have what everyone else has or gets or whatever. I don't know how they do it. How do they get friends? How do other peoeple get to be so happy with their lives?

This is what no one tells you. That the world isn't fair. That some people will get happily ever after. And some of us will get shit. That no matter what you can't change what group you're in. And that when you think you have, when you've worked your ass off and try your hardest, you're still not going to change your fate.

I am not my hair - or am I?

In 2002, I cut off all my hair. ALL of it. well most of it...but I got sick of the drama of having relaxed hair and cut it off. For almost 3 years, I had a "natural" - I eventually texturized my hair, but no relaxer. Then I tried to do a more "conservative look" and relaxed it, only to have to cut it all off again because the relaxer had done so much damage.

So for the last 2 years I had a natural. Well I still have a natural - but it's under a weave.

Yep - a weave...like Beyonce, Tyra, and all of them...

My hair is longer than it's been in 20 years. And by my hair I mean the weave. I've had braids. I had braids for the last year, but decided to try something new.

I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I know - for $400 I damn well better love it. Which I do. But have I sold out? When I cut off my hair, I got a lot of questions and comments about men, particularly black men, preferring long hair. At the time I said - "I refuse to be defined by my hair"...and actually I hooked up more in that first year of short hair, than I have since (but maybe that doesn't mean much).

Now, I am, as my mom put it, the "dream look...long hair and light skin" (and yes, by the way, I've got a nice booty). I'm pretty sure I did this for me. But I'm completely sure that I'm enjoying the glances that are way more appreciative than they were with my little afro only last week. Or maybe I just notice them more.