No, it isn't "Talk like a Pirate" day. Or, at least I don't think it is. Either way, that's not the cause of today's title. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgust is the term used by my former co-workers for busy season. It lasts from the middle of July to the middle of September. And considering, even in my current job, it's still going to be busy season, I'm still claiming usage of the word. For the past month, I haven't traveled...at all...which is kinda nice. It's been a nice break, especially considering what I'm gearing up for.
Logistically, at the moment, I am as prepared as I can be. My flights, hotels, and rental cars are booked. Knowing that at any moment, those are going to need to be changed, because another trip is getting thrown into the mix. And the reality of me walking through the airport on my way to one destination, and seeing if I can squeeze in another trip is likely.
But mentally, I've been avoiding the subject like the plague.
Avoidance is the best option for dealing like situations like this.
Said no one ever.
Ok...so I've been skimming the surface of the subject. On one hand, instead of having 3 jobs to do this year, I only have to focus on 1 job. Woohoo!! But this is my 4th Arrrrrrrrrgust...and I know better. I know better than to think that only doing this one job this year is going to be easy. Because the next month is going to be anything but easy.
A lot of people, upon hearing what I do, tell me I have a pretty sweet gig. And I admit, I do. I get to work when I want to. Not work when I don't want to. And I get to travel. All valid points. But the reality of my job isn't always easy. There are a lot of times when my job makes me really sad. Let me explain...
1) Early Childhood Education tends to be one of those fields that, in some cases, definitely not all, people tend to fall into because they're not qualified to do anything else. And of course, Early Childhood is just "babysitting." Or, at least, that's what a lot of people think it is. When in reality it's so much more. The first 5 years of a child's life are so important, and they learn so much in those 5 years, that if they don't get the right start, with the right help from the beginning, it could affect the rest of their life. And when teachers don't have a passion for helping young children right from the beginning, bad things happen. So it makes me sad when I go into schools, and I see teachers that could care less about the valuable information I'm giving them, that will, without question, make their jobs easier, and better, and allow them to be a more positive influence to the children they work with. And to see teachers that just don't care makes me really sad.
2) Traveling, by yourself, sucks. I love to travel, don't get me wrong. I absolutely couldn't do this job if I didn't like to travel. But traveling for work really isn't as glamorous as one might think. Airports are full of two types of people. 1) Families or couples going on vacation. 2) Lonely business travelers, who you often see sitting by themselves, eating dinner by themselves, and doing everything else you can possibly do in an airport...alone. Not to mention the fact that you get to watch all of those families/couples getting ready for a week of fun. I have literally spent countless nights all alone in a hotel room, watching bad TV and eating take out/room service...because I'm in the middle of nowhere, and there isn't anything fun to do.
Past history tells me that by the end of August, I am going to be burnt out, cranky, and a real joy to be around. In the past, I have spent 6 weeks away from home, where I might only make an appearance for a total of 24 hours before I was off to another destination. My own roommate thought that I had basically moved out. And there were people in my office who thought I was only some mystical being that didn't actually exist in reality.
But this year is different. I keep telling myself that. I'm in a different position. I only have this one thing to do. I'm living in a different place. I have family close by. Things are different. But I guess you could say that I'm still not being overly positive. And maybe I'm a little scared too. I know some of the mental anxiety that this time of year can bring, and I'm not looking forward to it. Because, I assure you, for all the cranky that I'm sharing with the world, what's going on in my head is a million times worse. And no matter how many friends you have...this time of year gets lonely. Really lonely.
So I guess you could say at this point, I'm hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Companionship
I have gone and done it. Just gone off the deep end and done it. It never even registered to mention this on the (very short) list of things I'll never do because the idea of doing it was so preposterous.
So, what is it I've done that you should probably now be concerned about my mental well being?
I adopted a cat. Me. Allergy girl. Adopted a cat.
So, without further ado, please let me introduce you to Charlie.
Permission to say "Awwwwwwwwwwww" right now.
So, you might ask, at this point, how it is I came to adopt young Charlie. A couple of weeks ago, you might remember (or not) that I had to stay at my parents house for a few days while my well was being disinfected. And one morning while I was there, I was in the living room, drinking coffee, and I swore I heard a cat meowing (this eventually led me to call him, briefly, Captain Meow). So I went to inspect. Lo and behold, Charlie had followed my mom home on her walk the evening before, and decided to camp out. And he wouldn't leave. I don't blame him, the parents have a nice house. The parents, not really looking to have a pet of their own right now were desperately wanting to remove Charlie from their farm. I was always willing...I just needed to get my caretakers approval. You know, because I travel a lot, and a pet can't just be my responsibility.
So, last night, I inquired as to how the young kitten was doing, and the mom told me he was still there. And I told her that, you know, feeding a cat wouldn't add too much of a burden to their current responsibilities of watering my flowers and gathering my mail while I'm gone.
Today, the mom calls to let me know that they're picking up some kitten food. For my barnyard guest. Did I get the picture?
Woohoo!!
So Charlie and I just got home. I showed him around the place. And by that, I mean, I showed him where his food is going to be located. So far, so good.
I'll keep you posted.
For now, he really likes to follow you around, and do the cute intertwining around your ankles. And there has been a lot of purring going on on Charlie's end. And a lot of nose scratching going on on my end. But he's staying outside (I mean, he's cute and all, but I don't want to die). So, be prepared that you may now be inundated with cute cat pictures, and stories. And an occasional slip into LOLspeak.
You know, I once read in a book (fiction) that owning a pet automatically makes your IQ drop 10 points...because it's inevitable that you're going to start speaking like and idiot to the animal. And so far, I can absolutely say this is true. Because from the moment he got in the car, I've been saying things like "Charlieeeeeeeeee, you so cuuuuuuuuute."
Don't judge. I promise I won't do the same to my future children that I'm having in 12 years.
You also might inquire as to why the name change. Well, as I was working on project headboard (updates on that soon, I promise) I was thinking about calling a cat Captain Meow. And though it's fitting, I just couldn't picture myself calling a pet that long term. So then I started thinking of alternate names. George came to mind. But then...then I started thinking about my grandparents...whose farm I'm living on. Paw especially. And every single animal that ever made it to this farm to live was called Charlie Brown by him. I never really ever figured out if it was because he didn't want me to get too attached to the cows (who I would eventually be eating) or if he just didn't want to have to remember a different name all the time. But that's what he always called the animals. So I figured it was fitting that the new kid on the barnyard follow suit.
Alright...it's dinner time. For me, not Charlie. Nom, nom, nom.
So, what is it I've done that you should probably now be concerned about my mental well being?
I adopted a cat. Me. Allergy girl. Adopted a cat.
So, without further ado, please let me introduce you to Charlie.
Permission to say "Awwwwwwwwwwww" right now.
So, you might ask, at this point, how it is I came to adopt young Charlie. A couple of weeks ago, you might remember (or not) that I had to stay at my parents house for a few days while my well was being disinfected. And one morning while I was there, I was in the living room, drinking coffee, and I swore I heard a cat meowing (this eventually led me to call him, briefly, Captain Meow). So I went to inspect. Lo and behold, Charlie had followed my mom home on her walk the evening before, and decided to camp out. And he wouldn't leave. I don't blame him, the parents have a nice house. The parents, not really looking to have a pet of their own right now were desperately wanting to remove Charlie from their farm. I was always willing...I just needed to get my caretakers approval. You know, because I travel a lot, and a pet can't just be my responsibility.
So, last night, I inquired as to how the young kitten was doing, and the mom told me he was still there. And I told her that, you know, feeding a cat wouldn't add too much of a burden to their current responsibilities of watering my flowers and gathering my mail while I'm gone.
Today, the mom calls to let me know that they're picking up some kitten food. For my barnyard guest. Did I get the picture?
Woohoo!!
So Charlie and I just got home. I showed him around the place. And by that, I mean, I showed him where his food is going to be located. So far, so good.
I'll keep you posted.
For now, he really likes to follow you around, and do the cute intertwining around your ankles. And there has been a lot of purring going on on Charlie's end. And a lot of nose scratching going on on my end. But he's staying outside (I mean, he's cute and all, but I don't want to die). So, be prepared that you may now be inundated with cute cat pictures, and stories. And an occasional slip into LOLspeak.
You know, I once read in a book (fiction) that owning a pet automatically makes your IQ drop 10 points...because it's inevitable that you're going to start speaking like and idiot to the animal. And so far, I can absolutely say this is true. Because from the moment he got in the car, I've been saying things like "Charlieeeeeeeeee, you so cuuuuuuuuute."
Don't judge. I promise I won't do the same to my future children that I'm having in 12 years.
You also might inquire as to why the name change. Well, as I was working on project headboard (updates on that soon, I promise) I was thinking about calling a cat Captain Meow. And though it's fitting, I just couldn't picture myself calling a pet that long term. So then I started thinking of alternate names. George came to mind. But then...then I started thinking about my grandparents...whose farm I'm living on. Paw especially. And every single animal that ever made it to this farm to live was called Charlie Brown by him. I never really ever figured out if it was because he didn't want me to get too attached to the cows (who I would eventually be eating) or if he just didn't want to have to remember a different name all the time. But that's what he always called the animals. So I figured it was fitting that the new kid on the barnyard follow suit.
Alright...it's dinner time. For me, not Charlie. Nom, nom, nom.
Monday, July 16, 2012
People
Ok, before we get to the main point of tonight's post, I just have to share something with you. If you are prone to a queasy stomach in sensitive situations...just skip to the next paragraph. I think I killed a bird tonight...while watering my plants. For a few weeks, there has been a bird living in my hanging basket...and every night, it politely flies away when I water the plant...you know...so it doesn't die (the plant...that is). But tonight....it didn't fly away. It fell. To this point...it's not dead dead. But it sure isn't moving that much. I may need to call in dad's bird removal services soon. The last I saw it, it was just sitting there...not really moving much. So I'm hoping it's just stunned, and that soon, it's going to just fly away, and never come back to my hanging basket. Ever. Again.
I'm glad I got that off my chest. You can berate me for being an awful human being now.
I have a love/hate relationship with people. I love people...in fact...I probably love everyone that's reading this post right now. (Please feel free to pause and say "Awwwwwwwwwwwww" now) But I also hate people...because, let's be honest, people can be weird, and stupid, and annoying. Or maybe that's just my perception of them. But instead of being so annoyed that I become a hermit on my farm to avoid said annoying people, I choose to laugh at them. I always said at my last job if I weren't able to laugh at the stupidity I was shown every day, I would go crazy. (Seriously...there are only so many times you can tell people how to spell "strategies" or try to explain what a web browser is. And if you think I'm joking that those were two of the most frequently asked questions I ever received...you need to work in customer service for a while. Then you'll know.) So here lies the main point of tonight's post. People. Different kinds of people. All situations I've been in recently. So I thought you might like a laugh or two at their expense.
I decided to treat myself today. Having recently gotten paid, I decided to run some errands today for some projects I want to work on before busy season hits. And instead of doing my usual lunch on errands day of eating my not so emergency, emergency granola bar...I decided to take myself to lunch. At what has previously been one of my favorite places to "hang out" in town. The coffee shop. And by coffee shop, I do not mean Starbucks...because I do not approve of Starbucks. This is a locally owned, rather hipster for Middle America, coffee shop. With good food too. It's always been a favorite place of mine, even when I didn't live here. It's the place I first met, and first got creeped out, by my BFF's husband. Hmm...perhaps you should have heard my Maid of Honor speech to fully understand that one. (Long story short, it was creepy in a good way, because I thought that they were so well matched.) It's a good place. So I go in for lunch...and they're rather busy...which is cool...I'm under no time constraint. Except...I then realize that over half the people in there are half my age. Which is not so cool. Because when you get a mass quantity of young people in a coffee house, unsupervised...annoyance happens. And since I had plenty of time to wait, because it took foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvver to get my food (I told you they were busy) I had plenty of opportunities to observe them. Apparently...all of these kids had just been to some type of health safety class...where apparently the main topic of conversation was how to avoid getting germs(?). Anyway...apparently there were new methods of greeting people that involved no chance of an exchange of bodily fluids. Something Sheldon Cooper would jump on in a heart beat...if he were ever interested in touching someone...which he isn't. And then there were many conversations that involved the words "duuuuuuuuuuuuude" and "like". And then they finally went to another section of the coffee house, under the recommendation of the girl working the counter, who was as annoyed as the rest of us. And then as soon as the kiddos went to the back room, a table full of women my age found another table in the front of the coffee house. They were that bad.
So I smirked into my Diet Coke, and found a table at the front of the coffee house.
To any men reading this post...I apologize in advance for this next part...partially.
Men are idiots. Wait...let me rephrase. Boys...boys are idiots. So, I talked to this guy yesterday...for about 45 minutes...which, in retrospect was about 45 minutes too long. In under 5 minutes, he had already asked me to marry him...and proceeded to do so again another 8 times while we talked. And if that weren't bad enough...he would proceed to ask me questions...demanding answers...and then I would get, at most, 5 words out of my mouth before he would interrupt me. He proceeded to wrap up the day by asking a quite vulgar question...one that is best not shared for public knowledge. Just rest assured knowing that I didn't answer...unless you count hanging up on him. I guess you could consider that an answer. Anyway...he proceeds to call me back immediately...to which I didn't answer...and he left me a voice message saying he was sorry...but that's just how he is, and I should be ok with that. Well...I'm ok with who people are...but if you're gonna be like that...I don't have to put up with listening to you. So then he calls back again. And I still don't answer. And this time, he tells me that he wants babies...girls, specifically, and he was really hoping I would provide them for him. Riiiiiiiiiiiiight...because I'm a baby factory. So then a couple of hours go by, and I think I'm free and clear. But I'm not...he calls me back a third time, and I still don't answer. (Normal people would have gotten the hint by now, right?) So this time he tells me that he's just really lonely, and he would really appreciate it if I would meet him for lunch. Really??? Seriously???? No. So I decide I need to put an end to this. I send him a text and tell him never to contact me ever again. To which he said he just had to try because I'm so pretty. *puke* Fortunately, I haven't heard from him since.
The sad thing here is that though this is an extreme case...it certainly is not alone in my stories of weird, bad dates. Yes, I realize this wasn't a date...but could you imagine how much material I could have gotten had I actually went out with him??? My book would be written. Sadly...I'm not certain I would make it through the hour without going insane...so I guess we'll never know.
But never fear...with my track record...I'm sure I'll come across more material in the future.
I will say, however, trying to look on the bright side of things...something positive has come out of that experience. Other than the chuckles I hope you all just had. For as many problems with self confidence as I've had over the years...one thing is for certain...I KNOW I deserve better than that guy.
I'm glad I got that off my chest. You can berate me for being an awful human being now.
I have a love/hate relationship with people. I love people...in fact...I probably love everyone that's reading this post right now. (Please feel free to pause and say "Awwwwwwwwwwwww" now) But I also hate people...because, let's be honest, people can be weird, and stupid, and annoying. Or maybe that's just my perception of them. But instead of being so annoyed that I become a hermit on my farm to avoid said annoying people, I choose to laugh at them. I always said at my last job if I weren't able to laugh at the stupidity I was shown every day, I would go crazy. (Seriously...there are only so many times you can tell people how to spell "strategies" or try to explain what a web browser is. And if you think I'm joking that those were two of the most frequently asked questions I ever received...you need to work in customer service for a while. Then you'll know.) So here lies the main point of tonight's post. People. Different kinds of people. All situations I've been in recently. So I thought you might like a laugh or two at their expense.
I decided to treat myself today. Having recently gotten paid, I decided to run some errands today for some projects I want to work on before busy season hits. And instead of doing my usual lunch on errands day of eating my not so emergency, emergency granola bar...I decided to take myself to lunch. At what has previously been one of my favorite places to "hang out" in town. The coffee shop. And by coffee shop, I do not mean Starbucks...because I do not approve of Starbucks. This is a locally owned, rather hipster for Middle America, coffee shop. With good food too. It's always been a favorite place of mine, even when I didn't live here. It's the place I first met, and first got creeped out, by my BFF's husband. Hmm...perhaps you should have heard my Maid of Honor speech to fully understand that one. (Long story short, it was creepy in a good way, because I thought that they were so well matched.) It's a good place. So I go in for lunch...and they're rather busy...which is cool...I'm under no time constraint. Except...I then realize that over half the people in there are half my age. Which is not so cool. Because when you get a mass quantity of young people in a coffee house, unsupervised...annoyance happens. And since I had plenty of time to wait, because it took foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvver to get my food (I told you they were busy) I had plenty of opportunities to observe them. Apparently...all of these kids had just been to some type of health safety class...where apparently the main topic of conversation was how to avoid getting germs(?). Anyway...apparently there were new methods of greeting people that involved no chance of an exchange of bodily fluids. Something Sheldon Cooper would jump on in a heart beat...if he were ever interested in touching someone...which he isn't. And then there were many conversations that involved the words "duuuuuuuuuuuuude" and "like". And then they finally went to another section of the coffee house, under the recommendation of the girl working the counter, who was as annoyed as the rest of us. And then as soon as the kiddos went to the back room, a table full of women my age found another table in the front of the coffee house. They were that bad.
So I smirked into my Diet Coke, and found a table at the front of the coffee house.
To any men reading this post...I apologize in advance for this next part...partially.
Men are idiots. Wait...let me rephrase. Boys...boys are idiots. So, I talked to this guy yesterday...for about 45 minutes...which, in retrospect was about 45 minutes too long. In under 5 minutes, he had already asked me to marry him...and proceeded to do so again another 8 times while we talked. And if that weren't bad enough...he would proceed to ask me questions...demanding answers...and then I would get, at most, 5 words out of my mouth before he would interrupt me. He proceeded to wrap up the day by asking a quite vulgar question...one that is best not shared for public knowledge. Just rest assured knowing that I didn't answer...unless you count hanging up on him. I guess you could consider that an answer. Anyway...he proceeds to call me back immediately...to which I didn't answer...and he left me a voice message saying he was sorry...but that's just how he is, and I should be ok with that. Well...I'm ok with who people are...but if you're gonna be like that...I don't have to put up with listening to you. So then he calls back again. And I still don't answer. And this time, he tells me that he wants babies...girls, specifically, and he was really hoping I would provide them for him. Riiiiiiiiiiiiight...because I'm a baby factory. So then a couple of hours go by, and I think I'm free and clear. But I'm not...he calls me back a third time, and I still don't answer. (Normal people would have gotten the hint by now, right?) So this time he tells me that he's just really lonely, and he would really appreciate it if I would meet him for lunch. Really??? Seriously???? No. So I decide I need to put an end to this. I send him a text and tell him never to contact me ever again. To which he said he just had to try because I'm so pretty. *puke* Fortunately, I haven't heard from him since.
The sad thing here is that though this is an extreme case...it certainly is not alone in my stories of weird, bad dates. Yes, I realize this wasn't a date...but could you imagine how much material I could have gotten had I actually went out with him??? My book would be written. Sadly...I'm not certain I would make it through the hour without going insane...so I guess we'll never know.
But never fear...with my track record...I'm sure I'll come across more material in the future.
I will say, however, trying to look on the bright side of things...something positive has come out of that experience. Other than the chuckles I hope you all just had. For as many problems with self confidence as I've had over the years...one thing is for certain...I KNOW I deserve better than that guy.
Monday, July 2, 2012
The Bucket List
Well, after thinking about this for a while, and making an unofficial list in my head...I have finally written down my bucket list. It seems fairly short to me right now, so I am claiming the right to add to this at any point in time.
1) Visit all 50 states. As of writing this I have 9 or 10 left to visit (Alaska, Hawaii, Nevada, North Dakota, New Mexico(?), Maine, Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire and Rhode Island)
2) Go to a Packer's Game at Lambeau Field.
3) Find Mr. Right, fall in love and get married, and have kids.
4) Finish an Ironman.
5) Get more stamps in my passport - at the moment, I don't have a specific destination to visit...I'm kinda open about this one.
6) Write a book and get published.
Well...that's it for now. If anyone has any ideas...please...let me know...I'll take them into consideration :)
1) Visit all 50 states. As of writing this I have 9 or 10 left to visit (Alaska, Hawaii, Nevada, North Dakota, New Mexico(?), Maine, Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire and Rhode Island)
2) Go to a Packer's Game at Lambeau Field.
3) Find Mr. Right, fall in love and get married, and have kids.
4) Finish an Ironman.
5) Get more stamps in my passport - at the moment, I don't have a specific destination to visit...I'm kinda open about this one.
6) Write a book and get published.
Well...that's it for now. If anyone has any ideas...please...let me know...I'll take them into consideration :)
Something's Gotta Give
Hi, my name is Johanna, and I'm an idiot.
Ok, now that we have that established, let me tell you why. I have a date tomorrow night. Yup, *I* have a date. And at the moment, every single cell in my body is telling me I should call him and tell him I'm sick. I'm not sick. Granted, I feel sick to my stomach right now, but I'm not actually sick. So, why, you might ask, do I want to call in sick? I'm chicken. Plain and simple...I'm chicken. I actually really like him. And I'm scared to open myself up to the possibility of getting hurt again. So at the moment, calling in sick is sounding like a much more reasonable option.
For the past 6 years, I have desperately wanted to find "the one." If such a thing exists. Desperately. And I've went on a few dates. But by and large...I have spent a lot of the past 6 years just completely giving up on finding a relationship. All because I'm one big pile of chicken sh*t.
Not having grown up in an uber emotionally supportive home, where the theory was more just "get over it" I feel weird right now. I'm not positive how to work through this. So when I finally got out of a horrible emotionally and psychologically abusive relationship 6 years ago, I wasn't sure how to get over it than just not let it bug me anymore. But that totally didn't work. I had no clue how to regain any amount of self respect, confidence, or trust. So, long story short, over the past 6 years, I've found a really good way to a) find the wrong guy and b) spend a lot of time by myself.
And I've tried being open...and it's clearly not worked. But a few weeks ago, I read an article that really seemed to resonate with me. It was about finding a relationship after any type of an abusive relationship. And the essence of the article was that the real, true healing comes in finding the good relationship. And it also mentioned a few things about how abuse survivors feel about finding a relationship...a desperation for wanting to find someone who will love you to the ends of the earth and back, combined with a lot of anxiety and fear about finding that type of relationship.
At this point in time, I could be the mascot for this article. I know it...I know that a lot of my feelings are illogical. But I'm right there in the middle of it.
So, this morning, my illogical brain started thinking of the movie Something's Gotta Give. It's a great movie where Diane Keaton falls in love with Jack Nicholson, and gets her heart broken. There's a great scene between she and her daughter that smacked me in the face this morning.
Marin: Are you crying?
Erica Barry: Yeah. It's my new thing. I've gotten abnormally brilliant at it.
Marin: Why? What is it?
Erica Barry: I'm in love. Ain't it great? Seems like I gotta learn how to that... love-them-and-leave-them stuff, you know?
Marin: Oh mom, I hate this. Now do you get my theory about all this? You gotta self-protect.
Erica Barry: You don't really buy this stuff you say, do you? You don't actually think that you can outsmart getting hurt?
Marin: I think it's worth trying.
Erica Barry: Listen to me. You can't hide from love for the rest of your life because maybe it won't work out... maybe you'll become unglued? It's just not a way to live.
Marin: Are you telling me this is good? What's happened to you?
Erica Barry: I think you should consider the possibility that you and I are more alike than you realize. I let someone in, and I had the time of my life.
Marin: I've never had the time of my life.
Erica Barry: I know, baby. And I say this from the deepest part of my heart. What are you waiting for?
Yup, for our purposes today, I'm her daughter, Marin. Every single cell in my body is screaming at me to run the opposite direction. But I don't want to feel like a quitter. Because I'm not a quitter. I finished a 2.4 mile swim, in 61 degree water, already suffering the effects of hypothermia. But I didn't quit!! Because you keep moving forward.
Well, at the moment, I'd much rather take another swim in that frigid water than go on this date tomorrow night. Why? Because I like him. There, I said it. Happy now? I like him, a lot. And I don't want to get hurt again. And I feel like an idiot, because I really believe what is said up above. That you really have to open yourself up to live and love. But holy crap, this is so hard!
Ok...I'm going to try to hit "Publish" now. ACK!!!
Ok, now that we have that established, let me tell you why. I have a date tomorrow night. Yup, *I* have a date. And at the moment, every single cell in my body is telling me I should call him and tell him I'm sick. I'm not sick. Granted, I feel sick to my stomach right now, but I'm not actually sick. So, why, you might ask, do I want to call in sick? I'm chicken. Plain and simple...I'm chicken. I actually really like him. And I'm scared to open myself up to the possibility of getting hurt again. So at the moment, calling in sick is sounding like a much more reasonable option.
For the past 6 years, I have desperately wanted to find "the one." If such a thing exists. Desperately. And I've went on a few dates. But by and large...I have spent a lot of the past 6 years just completely giving up on finding a relationship. All because I'm one big pile of chicken sh*t.
Not having grown up in an uber emotionally supportive home, where the theory was more just "get over it" I feel weird right now. I'm not positive how to work through this. So when I finally got out of a horrible emotionally and psychologically abusive relationship 6 years ago, I wasn't sure how to get over it than just not let it bug me anymore. But that totally didn't work. I had no clue how to regain any amount of self respect, confidence, or trust. So, long story short, over the past 6 years, I've found a really good way to a) find the wrong guy and b) spend a lot of time by myself.
And I've tried being open...and it's clearly not worked. But a few weeks ago, I read an article that really seemed to resonate with me. It was about finding a relationship after any type of an abusive relationship. And the essence of the article was that the real, true healing comes in finding the good relationship. And it also mentioned a few things about how abuse survivors feel about finding a relationship...a desperation for wanting to find someone who will love you to the ends of the earth and back, combined with a lot of anxiety and fear about finding that type of relationship.
At this point in time, I could be the mascot for this article. I know it...I know that a lot of my feelings are illogical. But I'm right there in the middle of it.
So, this morning, my illogical brain started thinking of the movie Something's Gotta Give. It's a great movie where Diane Keaton falls in love with Jack Nicholson, and gets her heart broken. There's a great scene between she and her daughter that smacked me in the face this morning.
Marin: Are you crying?
Erica Barry: Yeah. It's my new thing. I've gotten abnormally brilliant at it.
Marin: Why? What is it?
Erica Barry: I'm in love. Ain't it great? Seems like I gotta learn how to that... love-them-and-leave-them stuff, you know?
Marin: Oh mom, I hate this. Now do you get my theory about all this? You gotta self-protect.
Erica Barry: You don't really buy this stuff you say, do you? You don't actually think that you can outsmart getting hurt?
Marin: I think it's worth trying.
Erica Barry: Listen to me. You can't hide from love for the rest of your life because maybe it won't work out... maybe you'll become unglued? It's just not a way to live.
Marin: Are you telling me this is good? What's happened to you?
Erica Barry: I think you should consider the possibility that you and I are more alike than you realize. I let someone in, and I had the time of my life.
Marin: I've never had the time of my life.
Erica Barry: I know, baby. And I say this from the deepest part of my heart. What are you waiting for?
Yup, for our purposes today, I'm her daughter, Marin. Every single cell in my body is screaming at me to run the opposite direction. But I don't want to feel like a quitter. Because I'm not a quitter. I finished a 2.4 mile swim, in 61 degree water, already suffering the effects of hypothermia. But I didn't quit!! Because you keep moving forward.
Well, at the moment, I'd much rather take another swim in that frigid water than go on this date tomorrow night. Why? Because I like him. There, I said it. Happy now? I like him, a lot. And I don't want to get hurt again. And I feel like an idiot, because I really believe what is said up above. That you really have to open yourself up to live and love. But holy crap, this is so hard!
Ok...I'm going to try to hit "Publish" now. ACK!!!
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