(Warning: I am a whiny bitch tonight)
So when do you reach the point when you stop wanting parents? Well I have parents, and recently I have an abundance of parents. I have my mother, who has Multiple Sclerosis, and it is worsening, and I would love to help her. She just needs to understand that the same way her life did not stop for me when I needed a mother, I will not surrender my entire life to slave to her. I know that sounds bitchy, but you don't know my mother like I know my mother. Even before her illness progressed she used it when it was worthwhile to her. There is very little talking to my mother without screaming first, and there is something to be said for the woman who put me on my first diet when I was 9 years old. There's nothing that belittles self esteem like You'd be so pretty if you just lost some weight. We cannot agree on the level of physical violence in my childhood, although I get told on a regular basis that I was regularly alternately neglected and abused. She denies all of this, and has told me that I have made it all up. There is much more I can say about my mother, that I can continue to say about my mother, but the thing I guess that I still want the most, and the reason that I started writing this is I long to have that mother/daughter relationship that lets me be in the same room with her for more than a day without wanting to throttle her. I love my mother don't get me wrong, but the relationship we had was unhealthy at best.
My step-father is a psychologist. Not only did he have to deal with my mother, but he dealt with my troubled relationship with my mother, often mediating in way we'd never had before. He was a clear help in the physical aspect of my relationship with my mother, often coming between us when she appeared to be gearing for an assault. Still he was somewhat removed from the family, did not truly foster any of my likes, or desires in a nurturing way. When talking about wanting to be a chorus teacher the biting (and what he thought was humorous I'm sure) response was "Those who can't do, teach." A favorite game at family events would seem to be starting a discussion about how many mistakes I had made in my life.
Both he and my mother fostered my loneliness by limiting my access to friends and interaction with people. I was not permitted to much of the things that my peers did. Something that I still cope with. Something that has manifested itself in social anxiety as I've gotten older.
I've talked a lot about my biological father a lot lately. His non presence was a great influence in my life as well. I was not permitted to talk about him often because it might not sit well with my step father or my grandfather who was the guiding male figure in my life prior to my mother getting married when I was 13.
I struggle so much with the relationship with my mother, and the relationships with both of my fathers. My stepfather is still distant, which I can give a lot of reasons for, but it doesn't make it any less hurtful. Our family is just warmer, I'm just a warmer person. He truly does the best he can though I think.
I have been told for ever that my mother was just a poor 19 year old, she was the best mother she knew how to be, that she did the best she could, that she was good to me. I would like to believe all that, but I would also like to feel more bonded to my mother and I just don't. I wonder if its too late to fix that. She currently exhausts me. Everything is about her, it has to be. It always has been that way. She was incapable of being a loving supportive mother because of her disease, because of her own upbringing, but people make choices. At any time she could have chosen to rise above, something I struggle with every day.
I want to be better, I want to learn how to fix myself. I want to forgive the things that were done to me. I want to better appreciate the things that are done for me! I want to be more patient, and to be so frustrated when I am faced with whining and excuses from my parents that make them seem more of a child than I've ever been.
I think I am done whining for now. I was hoping this would prove more cathartic. Perhaps I am not finished with this topic...
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Taking Responsibility and other random thoughts
I struggled for a long time with factors in my life. I am a compulsive overeater, I have a history of attention seeking, I have been a liar and a thief and occasionally a twitter stalker. Much of which was to support my compulsive behavior. I have other behaviors too. I consistently look for love in "all the wrong places" and am still always surprised by the poor outcome, but they are my behaviors. I own them, and I control them... more or less. I am responsible for these behaviors. I get sick of the damned victim attitude. I had all this crappy shit happen to me, I am a victim of life, people use me and walk all over me, I had a shitty childhood, no body loves me ENOUGH boo fucking hoo.
The reason I chose to talk about this today is twofold. I have "friends" online, although many of them I don't know if I can call them friend. We have nothing in common, up to and including the fact that I scrape and claw to get to a place where I don't feel like shit daily, struggle with my real life, and try like hell not to take the easy way out and blame the world for my problems. They don't. I will occasionally glance at a twitter page and become infuriated by the ceaseless attention seeking and blame on everyone else. I was that girl. I know how that path goes. I guess part of it is just that my panties are in a twist that when I offer the advice from taking that path that it goes unheeded. Yes, I know that I wouldn't have listened to my mother when she gave advice, but had I had a slightly older contemporary... someone who had really been there...
Second, My mother was here for a visit recently. I know where I got my poor behavior, my attention seeking, my inability to let things go, many of my negative traits. I know that a lot of my positive traits come from her as well however. My mother loves as much as she is able, its just not always adequate. I fall into that trap myself, and with unhealthy people, but once I realize how critically unhealthy they are its too late, I'm in it. I don't like to back down. My mother is an interesting study. (I truly think I missed my calling by not going into some kind of psych.) She will tell me that I should stop blaming the bad things in my life on the past (much of which pertains to her parenting ability) things that I wasn't allowed to do that my sixteen years younger sister is allowed to without the bat of an eye, or just things that happened to me, traumatic or not. However we hear from every moment of her life how her past shaped her decision making. The trauma of losing her mother at 17. Admittedly horrific, particularly after the pain of cancer. The part she glosses over was how wild she was prior to then, that she didn't have the storybook loving relationship with her parents. We hear about how the "love of her life" from high school broke her heart. How that still pains her so deeply. My step-father was in constant competition with this man, that he never met. nearly 40 years later my mother still talks about this love, but my sister should get over her love quickly because it is an inconvenience to my mother. Everything is a secret, her continued smoking is to be kept a secret from my sister to avoid conflict, and yet she then will complain that she has poor relationships with the people around her. And, my mother was diagnosed at a young age with Multiple Sclerosis. That is the big evil in life now, every behavior, whether it was there before or not. I know it sounds like I am an unforgiving witch, and I know some facets of her behavior are affected by her disease, but I am tired of every conversation, every thought, every interchange with my mother being punctuated with "its my disease that makes me this way" when she was this way long before the disease took lasting effect. Everyone has problems completeing a thought from time to time, everyone forgets things, everyone has emotional moments, everyone has problems. My mother gets so freaked out and pissed off over the slightest thing. You can't say anything to her without her getting hostile and feeling attacked or suspicious. Including benign things like "How are you" if she feels there is the slightest bit of a "tone" to your voice she will freak out on you. She will attribute that to the disease now, but I've gotten my ass kicked over the same thing in the past. Granted I may not have always been aware of my attitudes like I am now, but... just once I would like to be able to have a normal conversation with my mother. I am also tired of everything being about me and my sister when nothing has been for me and my sister, but in the retelling it makes my mother look like the good guy. I am nearly 35 years old. My mother tells me she is staying in contact with my biological father to make things better for me. They talk to each other like I am a minor still. She's "loaned" him money - a fact that would make other members of my family livid, but I am supposed to believe its all for me. She's offered him a place to stay and gets jealous when he talks about his girlfriend. But its all for me. And when he disappears again, or he doesn't communicate enough and she gets her feelings hurt its not her fault for opening herself up to him again, it will be my fault or is my fault because she was only talking to him for me. My mother drank heavily, and I would call her an alcoholic until I was like 13. She attributes her stopped drinking to me, that after she literally became a falling down drunk at a wedding I was looking at her with great confusions and concern, but my stepfather (although I think this was prior to them being married) looked at her with utter disgust. What do you think was the motivator there. She doesn't feel that she was an alcoholic though, and she can control her drinking now. (Which is why after she and my stepfather divorced every full bottle of wine and everything else in the house became an empty bottle). I think she's replaced her addiction to alcohol with an addiction to prescription pain killers that she uses for the MS.
And while we're discussing addiction and inability to take responsibility for actions... my "stupid fucking biological" as my sister lovingly refers to him is in the phase of his recovery where he is trying to put his life right with the people that he hurt. That includes me apparently, however he seems to be getting annoyed with the fact that I am not ready to embrace this with open arms. I hadn't heard from him in several days, so I sent him an email, and his response, the man that abandonned me for so many years responded with "I thought you had abandonned me." I was livid. Then proceeds to ask my mother for my phone number! I told my sister to tell my mother to tell him I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. I am tired though of every aspect of shit in his life being attributed to his life of addiction. He chose that life. Yes, I understand that addiction takes over your life, and people need to hit a bottom, but at the same time, you can not wait 30+ years to decide not to be an asshole your whole life.
So I continue to struggle with my one time educational blog or what I hoped would be educational devolving into a place of my whining and railing against the universe, and my struggle to become a better person, to be able to truly love, to truly give of myself before I wind up alone.
The reason I chose to talk about this today is twofold. I have "friends" online, although many of them I don't know if I can call them friend. We have nothing in common, up to and including the fact that I scrape and claw to get to a place where I don't feel like shit daily, struggle with my real life, and try like hell not to take the easy way out and blame the world for my problems. They don't. I will occasionally glance at a twitter page and become infuriated by the ceaseless attention seeking and blame on everyone else. I was that girl. I know how that path goes. I guess part of it is just that my panties are in a twist that when I offer the advice from taking that path that it goes unheeded. Yes, I know that I wouldn't have listened to my mother when she gave advice, but had I had a slightly older contemporary... someone who had really been there...
Second, My mother was here for a visit recently. I know where I got my poor behavior, my attention seeking, my inability to let things go, many of my negative traits. I know that a lot of my positive traits come from her as well however. My mother loves as much as she is able, its just not always adequate. I fall into that trap myself, and with unhealthy people, but once I realize how critically unhealthy they are its too late, I'm in it. I don't like to back down. My mother is an interesting study. (I truly think I missed my calling by not going into some kind of psych.) She will tell me that I should stop blaming the bad things in my life on the past (much of which pertains to her parenting ability) things that I wasn't allowed to do that my sixteen years younger sister is allowed to without the bat of an eye, or just things that happened to me, traumatic or not. However we hear from every moment of her life how her past shaped her decision making. The trauma of losing her mother at 17. Admittedly horrific, particularly after the pain of cancer. The part she glosses over was how wild she was prior to then, that she didn't have the storybook loving relationship with her parents. We hear about how the "love of her life" from high school broke her heart. How that still pains her so deeply. My step-father was in constant competition with this man, that he never met. nearly 40 years later my mother still talks about this love, but my sister should get over her love quickly because it is an inconvenience to my mother. Everything is a secret, her continued smoking is to be kept a secret from my sister to avoid conflict, and yet she then will complain that she has poor relationships with the people around her. And, my mother was diagnosed at a young age with Multiple Sclerosis. That is the big evil in life now, every behavior, whether it was there before or not. I know it sounds like I am an unforgiving witch, and I know some facets of her behavior are affected by her disease, but I am tired of every conversation, every thought, every interchange with my mother being punctuated with "its my disease that makes me this way" when she was this way long before the disease took lasting effect. Everyone has problems completeing a thought from time to time, everyone forgets things, everyone has emotional moments, everyone has problems. My mother gets so freaked out and pissed off over the slightest thing. You can't say anything to her without her getting hostile and feeling attacked or suspicious. Including benign things like "How are you" if she feels there is the slightest bit of a "tone" to your voice she will freak out on you. She will attribute that to the disease now, but I've gotten my ass kicked over the same thing in the past. Granted I may not have always been aware of my attitudes like I am now, but... just once I would like to be able to have a normal conversation with my mother. I am also tired of everything being about me and my sister when nothing has been for me and my sister, but in the retelling it makes my mother look like the good guy. I am nearly 35 years old. My mother tells me she is staying in contact with my biological father to make things better for me. They talk to each other like I am a minor still. She's "loaned" him money - a fact that would make other members of my family livid, but I am supposed to believe its all for me. She's offered him a place to stay and gets jealous when he talks about his girlfriend. But its all for me. And when he disappears again, or he doesn't communicate enough and she gets her feelings hurt its not her fault for opening herself up to him again, it will be my fault or is my fault because she was only talking to him for me. My mother drank heavily, and I would call her an alcoholic until I was like 13. She attributes her stopped drinking to me, that after she literally became a falling down drunk at a wedding I was looking at her with great confusions and concern, but my stepfather (although I think this was prior to them being married) looked at her with utter disgust. What do you think was the motivator there. She doesn't feel that she was an alcoholic though, and she can control her drinking now. (Which is why after she and my stepfather divorced every full bottle of wine and everything else in the house became an empty bottle). I think she's replaced her addiction to alcohol with an addiction to prescription pain killers that she uses for the MS.
And while we're discussing addiction and inability to take responsibility for actions... my "stupid fucking biological" as my sister lovingly refers to him is in the phase of his recovery where he is trying to put his life right with the people that he hurt. That includes me apparently, however he seems to be getting annoyed with the fact that I am not ready to embrace this with open arms. I hadn't heard from him in several days, so I sent him an email, and his response, the man that abandonned me for so many years responded with "I thought you had abandonned me." I was livid. Then proceeds to ask my mother for my phone number! I told my sister to tell my mother to tell him I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. I am tired though of every aspect of shit in his life being attributed to his life of addiction. He chose that life. Yes, I understand that addiction takes over your life, and people need to hit a bottom, but at the same time, you can not wait 30+ years to decide not to be an asshole your whole life.
So I continue to struggle with my one time educational blog or what I hoped would be educational devolving into a place of my whining and railing against the universe, and my struggle to become a better person, to be able to truly love, to truly give of myself before I wind up alone.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Fear and Cycles
I was thinking today what an amazing motivator fear can be, or demotivator. I have fought many lifelong struggles, but at the base of all of them in one way or another is fear. I am afraid of everything, which at times includes a borderline agoraphobia.
My life started being afraid of being abandoned. Having no father, knowing he didn't want to be with us initiated that fear. My mother and grandfather always fought, and while I was the apple of my grandfather's eye, and he was my hero I was in constant fear that I would lose him or my mother.
I have always been treated a certain way because of my weight. Within itself there is a number of fears with that, but I wonder how much of the self defeat with my weight battle is out of fear. While it was negative attention I received it would be better than no attention, than being left. While "You'd be so pretty if you just lost some weight" was deeply hurtful, along with the teasing I received from my peers, and marked the way I continue to look at myself to this day, wasn't that still better than being ignored?
Its not an uncommon phenomenon for people who have the same issues, or similar issues than what I've had to have weight issues. There are any number of survivors of many types of abuse who use this same coping mechanism. Food is something I can control, in theory. I don't necessarily believe that. I believe that there have been very many times in my life I let myself be as controlled by food as any other addict by their addiction. The bigger issue at hand is that I use it to insulate myself, to keep people at a distance. I hate that I look like this, but if I look like this no one will want me. I want to be wanted and loved, but at the same time I am terrified to be hurt, again. If no one comes near me, they can't hurt me. Of course I still hurt, and because I hurt, I eat more to fill in that emptiness, that fear of being alone, and that pain.
I've been to therapy, which hasn't helped, I haven't quite stayed the course due to emotional issues or financial issues to deal with these problems. I have considered OA, but I don't know if that's an appropriate course of action, although its likely far better than doing nothing. Again, its that fear of being rejected even from a support group that keeps me following the same worn tracks.
My life started being afraid of being abandoned. Having no father, knowing he didn't want to be with us initiated that fear. My mother and grandfather always fought, and while I was the apple of my grandfather's eye, and he was my hero I was in constant fear that I would lose him or my mother.
I have always been treated a certain way because of my weight. Within itself there is a number of fears with that, but I wonder how much of the self defeat with my weight battle is out of fear. While it was negative attention I received it would be better than no attention, than being left. While "You'd be so pretty if you just lost some weight" was deeply hurtful, along with the teasing I received from my peers, and marked the way I continue to look at myself to this day, wasn't that still better than being ignored?
Its not an uncommon phenomenon for people who have the same issues, or similar issues than what I've had to have weight issues. There are any number of survivors of many types of abuse who use this same coping mechanism. Food is something I can control, in theory. I don't necessarily believe that. I believe that there have been very many times in my life I let myself be as controlled by food as any other addict by their addiction. The bigger issue at hand is that I use it to insulate myself, to keep people at a distance. I hate that I look like this, but if I look like this no one will want me. I want to be wanted and loved, but at the same time I am terrified to be hurt, again. If no one comes near me, they can't hurt me. Of course I still hurt, and because I hurt, I eat more to fill in that emptiness, that fear of being alone, and that pain.
I've been to therapy, which hasn't helped, I haven't quite stayed the course due to emotional issues or financial issues to deal with these problems. I have considered OA, but I don't know if that's an appropriate course of action, although its likely far better than doing nothing. Again, its that fear of being rejected even from a support group that keeps me following the same worn tracks.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Family Reunion?
So I know initially I wasn't going to use this about my daily stuff, but the more I think about it I wonder if I shouldn't shed the other blog all together. When AOL was closing their blogs I almost didn't carry it over, but I did. For whatever reason I feel more comfortable here. In any case, after nearly 30 years of silence (other than one unsigned card when I was like ten) I have been in contact with my biological father again. This is a very interesting experience for me. Even more interesting, after years of flak from my family about the amount of time that I have spent on the computer, our conversations and contact have been through yahoo, yim, and facebook. I will have to update you more as I have more details, but this is a new and interesting development that has slightly altered or may alter all my ongoing relationships in my active family.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
How we treat each other...
It's been quite some time since I have written anything here. The issue that is most on my mind as of late is an issue that comes up far too often, respecting yourself, and each other. I said early on I wasn't going to use this particular blog as a soap box for day to day bullshit, and I don't intend to start. Like with anything else I think there is a lesson to be learned here.
I have learned a lot over the years about how I want to treat people, and how I wanted to be treated by people. I can easily say that its only in the last year that I've really come to see myself as a person of true value, that deserves to be treated well. Even that, with the issues of depression can be fleeting.
What I don't understand, even when you don't agree with someone's ideas, beliefs, or life is a public call to arms against them. A war cry to defeat an enemy that may not have directly affected you in any real way makes no sense to me. Even if the person affected you directly, than fight them directly. I do not see the need to insight a riot. Perhaps its just being used to standing alone.
Worse than the best defense is a good offense is the rallying of those who have "peaked in high school". People who's best days were truly when they were teens and the only way they can make themselves feel better is to tear down the other people around them, or to summon the same rallying cry to the people who have also peaked in high school. Granted, many of those guilty of this in my mind (taking into account the online community) are little more than high schoolers, which makes it so much worse. What kind of role model is the 20-something bully to the youngsters around them? Maybe I'm sensitive to this because I was the kid who was bullied, but it seems ridiculous to me.
Whats even more interesting is that the people in the community who sing the praises of online respect, that cried the loudest when they were the subject of the attacks are the ones now insighting riots, the ones hurting others. "Respect Online" is little more than a battle cry for those who like to hurl stones then cry when they get thrown back. It makes me sorry and sad to be part of the community, and yet I come back for more, growing more disgusted with them and myself by the day.
What I know is this, when I was briefly the one who was hurling insults, (a brief period I am not proud of), I felt poorly. It made me angrier in general, and made me feel bad about myself. It made me reflect on the days that I had been picked on. I still lapse into the occasional mean moment, as everyone has their weakness, mine comes when dealing with the stupid mostly. (At least in my opinion, and not very respectful) but I can at least be well aware that I don't use my distaste for someone as a rallying cry for mass hate.
We need to treat each other, all of us as unique individuals, that each have value, that each have something to share. Respect online and off is not something to be commanded, its to be earned. In action and in speech. This is what we need to learn.
I have learned a lot over the years about how I want to treat people, and how I wanted to be treated by people. I can easily say that its only in the last year that I've really come to see myself as a person of true value, that deserves to be treated well. Even that, with the issues of depression can be fleeting.
What I don't understand, even when you don't agree with someone's ideas, beliefs, or life is a public call to arms against them. A war cry to defeat an enemy that may not have directly affected you in any real way makes no sense to me. Even if the person affected you directly, than fight them directly. I do not see the need to insight a riot. Perhaps its just being used to standing alone.
Worse than the best defense is a good offense is the rallying of those who have "peaked in high school". People who's best days were truly when they were teens and the only way they can make themselves feel better is to tear down the other people around them, or to summon the same rallying cry to the people who have also peaked in high school. Granted, many of those guilty of this in my mind (taking into account the online community) are little more than high schoolers, which makes it so much worse. What kind of role model is the 20-something bully to the youngsters around them? Maybe I'm sensitive to this because I was the kid who was bullied, but it seems ridiculous to me.
Whats even more interesting is that the people in the community who sing the praises of online respect, that cried the loudest when they were the subject of the attacks are the ones now insighting riots, the ones hurting others. "Respect Online" is little more than a battle cry for those who like to hurl stones then cry when they get thrown back. It makes me sorry and sad to be part of the community, and yet I come back for more, growing more disgusted with them and myself by the day.
What I know is this, when I was briefly the one who was hurling insults, (a brief period I am not proud of), I felt poorly. It made me angrier in general, and made me feel bad about myself. It made me reflect on the days that I had been picked on. I still lapse into the occasional mean moment, as everyone has their weakness, mine comes when dealing with the stupid mostly. (At least in my opinion, and not very respectful) but I can at least be well aware that I don't use my distaste for someone as a rallying cry for mass hate.
We need to treat each other, all of us as unique individuals, that each have value, that each have something to share. Respect online and off is not something to be commanded, its to be earned. In action and in speech. This is what we need to learn.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Self Image
Every day I look in the mirror. There are so many days I hate what I see. I am too fat, my hair won't do right, I have any number of things that I can point out wrong about me. I can always find the worst things. A friend sent this to me not long ago, shortly after I sent it to my mother and my sister, to convey the same message.
My battle with self image has been a long one starting from my youth, very early on. I was the "chubby kid", not anything close to what you see in today's youth now. I wasn't much bigger than my peers, but enough to be made fun of, and lets just say the having glasses since kindergarten didn't help. My mother and I went down a long contentious road with my image, a lot of it dealing with her own self image. My mother has always been thin. I have always been heavy. This led to a long road of hiding food, compulsive/obsessing eating, stealing money to aid the compulsive eating. I have done a lot of things in my life I am not proud of. I have read a lot of things over the years, gone to therapy, been hospitalized for depression related to of the many reasons my "eating disorder". So, what possessed me to write this today? I have been thinking a lot about this.
My mother and I went round and round in High School about my weight and how I looked. My little sister's prom dress was the same exact size that mine was. My sister has always been supported and loved and told that she was beautiful. I bear very little jealousy over that per se. I have told her just the same. And she is beautiful and special, and no one should tell her differently. I am grateful that she never went the route that I did.
That still doesn't bring me to the point of this. I think everyone should be made to believe they are beautiful and special. The only issue with weight that I have is when it is to a point of being unhealthy. It scares me to think about my own issues. I have aches and pains that I shouldn't at 34. I hate the way my body looks, but at the same time there are people who tell me I'm beautiful. There are people who believe that I could become a field Paramedic, or at the least an EMT despite my physical limitations.
So what is beauty, how do we feel beautiful? What makes us beautiful? I wish I could answer that. I know beauty is different things to different people. I know that sometimes people see different things in people. How do I feel beautiful? I can play with my hair and my makeup, I have dyed my hair a thousand different colors (all naturally occurring shades) although I am back to my natural color now. I have had all different hair cuts. It helps a little. I have lost weight, and gained weight (mostly gained) I still don't feel beautiful. So, how do I fix my issues, and how can I help other people fix their issues?
My battle with self image has been a long one starting from my youth, very early on. I was the "chubby kid", not anything close to what you see in today's youth now. I wasn't much bigger than my peers, but enough to be made fun of, and lets just say the having glasses since kindergarten didn't help. My mother and I went down a long contentious road with my image, a lot of it dealing with her own self image. My mother has always been thin. I have always been heavy. This led to a long road of hiding food, compulsive/obsessing eating, stealing money to aid the compulsive eating. I have done a lot of things in my life I am not proud of. I have read a lot of things over the years, gone to therapy, been hospitalized for depression related to of the many reasons my "eating disorder". So, what possessed me to write this today? I have been thinking a lot about this.
My mother and I went round and round in High School about my weight and how I looked. My little sister's prom dress was the same exact size that mine was. My sister has always been supported and loved and told that she was beautiful. I bear very little jealousy over that per se. I have told her just the same. And she is beautiful and special, and no one should tell her differently. I am grateful that she never went the route that I did.
That still doesn't bring me to the point of this. I think everyone should be made to believe they are beautiful and special. The only issue with weight that I have is when it is to a point of being unhealthy. It scares me to think about my own issues. I have aches and pains that I shouldn't at 34. I hate the way my body looks, but at the same time there are people who tell me I'm beautiful. There are people who believe that I could become a field Paramedic, or at the least an EMT despite my physical limitations.
So what is beauty, how do we feel beautiful? What makes us beautiful? I wish I could answer that. I know beauty is different things to different people. I know that sometimes people see different things in people. How do I feel beautiful? I can play with my hair and my makeup, I have dyed my hair a thousand different colors (all naturally occurring shades) although I am back to my natural color now. I have had all different hair cuts. It helps a little. I have lost weight, and gained weight (mostly gained) I still don't feel beautiful. So, how do I fix my issues, and how can I help other people fix their issues?
Monday, August 4, 2008
Where to begin
I want so many things for this blog, for this experience and I am having the hardest time figuring out how to say what I want to say and the way I want to say it.
I have been unsure if I should start at the beginning of my life or at the issue/story that is the most pressing on my mind at that moment. Anyone who has talked to me for too long knows that I have a story for everything. It may not be a good story, but it's a story.
A friend recently told me about changes in their life that they wanted to make. One of the things that they mentioned is that they fall in love so easily, with ideas, with places, with people. I can completely relate to that. I am a champion at it. There are two challenges presented by this constant state of falling in love.
1. What happens when you fall out of love?
2. What happens when what you love does not love you back?
In this case I am not talking about the typical aspects of love, beyond romantic love, platonic love, or familial love, although these same questions relate to those in a very unique and real way.
Falling in love is the most intense, awe inspiring, giddy feeling
Being in love can make you feel so good, so alive, you think that everything will be this good forever.
Falling out of love, when the luster fades, all the flaws and imperfections become obvious and irritating. It can cycle in and out of being in love so easily.
Then there is Unreciprocated love where the thing/person/place (noun) you love does not love you back. Arguably the most painful of feelings.
To relate this to my own life, I've lived on Long Island (a suburb of NYC for those not familiar) for all but 6 of my now 34 years. I can't, or won't apply this "Love curve" of mine to New York because I was not given the option of loving it. My love for the place of my birth is most akin to familial love. You can't choose it, its just there. It's stronger than others sometimes, but at the heart there is always that unique bond that you can't obtain from any other place in the world.
I moved to Moberly, Missouri in the end of 1999, directly after Christmas. My flight was on December 28th. The moving, the "falling in love"/decision to move had as much to do with a person as the place, but site unseen I moved to this new world.
The in love phase did not last long at all. It was clearly so far from the life I had known that the differences were far greater than my desire/need to adapt.
The falling out of love/the break up/love unreciprocated. Life there hated me as much as I hated it so I moved back to NY, much to the relief of my family, particularly upon seeing the town of one horse to which I had moved. I was not made for Moberly, nor was it made for me. Soemtimes you need to try these things to know for sure. I returned to New York to continue that love hate relationship that I had maintained for so many years.
My other love story with a place was one with roots almost as deep as the love of my birth home.
Memphis, Tennessee, as many people know, the place that I live now. My uncle was stationed at the Naval Base in Millington during his stint in the Navy. No one understood how he fell in love with it here so much, at least not while I was growing up. We vacationed here during the summers at least one week a year as often as we could, and in years where they didn't come to us. Given the restriction, monitoring, and abuse of my household that I will get into another time staying with my aunt and uncle and my cousins was a relief.
I moved here once before when I was 22. I loved it then, to a slight degree. I was in like with it. I wasn't ready to commit though and moved back to NY.
Then four years ago, I was ready and I was in love all over again. To prove how right the relationship was I was able to transfer on short notice through my job, found a new what appeared to be better job right away. I was able to stay with my aunt and uncle until I was able to get into a place of my own. My trip here, becoming established here has been nothing less than blessed. I was in love, I was ready to commit.
Four years later, I lost the initial "better job" which turned out to be not that much better. I have a new job with a doctor from the hospital which was my better job. I have a smattering of friends. I have a great support system. I have a fantastic job that I really do love. I am still very much in love. I have moved into my second apartment here, one that I found completely on my own this time. It shows that when the time is right for something you can find a way. This is more home to me in some ways than New York ever was.
I don't know if that's how I had intended to end this. I had drafted up through Missouri over a week ago. I guess I got my point across. We'll see what the next tale brings, if we can solidify a direction for this and hopefully someone will get something out of this.
I have been unsure if I should start at the beginning of my life or at the issue/story that is the most pressing on my mind at that moment. Anyone who has talked to me for too long knows that I have a story for everything. It may not be a good story, but it's a story.
A friend recently told me about changes in their life that they wanted to make. One of the things that they mentioned is that they fall in love so easily, with ideas, with places, with people. I can completely relate to that. I am a champion at it. There are two challenges presented by this constant state of falling in love.
1. What happens when you fall out of love?
2. What happens when what you love does not love you back?
In this case I am not talking about the typical aspects of love, beyond romantic love, platonic love, or familial love, although these same questions relate to those in a very unique and real way.
Falling in love is the most intense, awe inspiring, giddy feeling
Being in love can make you feel so good, so alive, you think that everything will be this good forever.
Falling out of love, when the luster fades, all the flaws and imperfections become obvious and irritating. It can cycle in and out of being in love so easily.
Then there is Unreciprocated love where the thing/person/place (noun) you love does not love you back. Arguably the most painful of feelings.
To relate this to my own life, I've lived on Long Island (a suburb of NYC for those not familiar) for all but 6 of my now 34 years. I can't, or won't apply this "Love curve" of mine to New York because I was not given the option of loving it. My love for the place of my birth is most akin to familial love. You can't choose it, its just there. It's stronger than others sometimes, but at the heart there is always that unique bond that you can't obtain from any other place in the world.
I moved to Moberly, Missouri in the end of 1999, directly after Christmas. My flight was on December 28th. The moving, the "falling in love"/decision to move had as much to do with a person as the place, but site unseen I moved to this new world.
The in love phase did not last long at all. It was clearly so far from the life I had known that the differences were far greater than my desire/need to adapt.
The falling out of love/the break up/love unreciprocated. Life there hated me as much as I hated it so I moved back to NY, much to the relief of my family, particularly upon seeing the town of one horse to which I had moved. I was not made for Moberly, nor was it made for me. Soemtimes you need to try these things to know for sure. I returned to New York to continue that love hate relationship that I had maintained for so many years.
My other love story with a place was one with roots almost as deep as the love of my birth home.
Memphis, Tennessee, as many people know, the place that I live now. My uncle was stationed at the Naval Base in Millington during his stint in the Navy. No one understood how he fell in love with it here so much, at least not while I was growing up. We vacationed here during the summers at least one week a year as often as we could, and in years where they didn't come to us. Given the restriction, monitoring, and abuse of my household that I will get into another time staying with my aunt and uncle and my cousins was a relief.
I moved here once before when I was 22. I loved it then, to a slight degree. I was in like with it. I wasn't ready to commit though and moved back to NY.
Then four years ago, I was ready and I was in love all over again. To prove how right the relationship was I was able to transfer on short notice through my job, found a new what appeared to be better job right away. I was able to stay with my aunt and uncle until I was able to get into a place of my own. My trip here, becoming established here has been nothing less than blessed. I was in love, I was ready to commit.
Four years later, I lost the initial "better job" which turned out to be not that much better. I have a new job with a doctor from the hospital which was my better job. I have a smattering of friends. I have a great support system. I have a fantastic job that I really do love. I am still very much in love. I have moved into my second apartment here, one that I found completely on my own this time. It shows that when the time is right for something you can find a way. This is more home to me in some ways than New York ever was.
I don't know if that's how I had intended to end this. I had drafted up through Missouri over a week ago. I guess I got my point across. We'll see what the next tale brings, if we can solidify a direction for this and hopefully someone will get something out of this.
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