wow. april. i havent' blogged since april. it's august and time is slipping past me. i don't know how to hold onto it anymore. it use to seem that days felt like weeks. now months feel like days. make it stop so i can soak it in!!!
my life has become very full. quick recap shall we? i quit my part time job at the museum for a bigger and better opportunity elsewhere. i happen to be sitting at that elsewhere job right now (and somewhat slacking off) and frankly, it feels good. not great but really fucking good. i'm back to working full time after 10 years of on again/off again extra grocery money work. i'm supporting my little family the best i can right now and that part of my liberation is, well, liberating. it's a good, solid, substantial job but i still crave something more. not long term but long enough term to get me where i want to go.
my babies are growing too quickly for my liking. a is a bundle of pre-teen angst and emotion right now. being 11 1/2 is just too much somedays. she questions herself, her friendships, her relationship with me. all normal behavior and she's still the sweetest thing. just sometimes she's a little sour. b is my little crazy man with a heart of gold. he's thriving and blossoming and become quite a little man. it's hard sometimes when i realize that they are growing up and out. out of the nest is a common term for a real reason - because it's true. they spread their wings, find their voices and poof, before you know it their lives are centered around something other than their parents. biggest catch 22 ever.
i've been able to work on the house and have been there for almost a year and a half now. what the what? how in the world did that happen so quickly? i mow my lawn, i clean my house, i paint my rooms, i take care of my humble home with my two hands and moreover...with my heart. i love my little slice of notchomama's and am making it a home the best i know how.
justin and i have gotten through the rough patches and are really enjoying each other again. it feels somewhat new in a way but incredibly familiar. my mother described our relationship as a long term one. she's so intuitive sometimes. she believes that he has loved me for a very long time and nothing will change that love. only time and experience and commitment will strengthen what's already there. but the fact is, the foundation is a strong one. he's still my westley and i am most definitely still his buttercup. we spend more time together, he's becoming more of a constant in my life instead of a weekend romp. it's been wonderful to say the least and this ride wouldn't be nearly as satisfying without him along. swoon.
all in all i feel like life is starting to settle in around me instead of me settling in around it. know what i mean? for such a long time i felt like i was just dog paddling around an endless body of water. not so much waiting to be rescued but just not being sure which direction to find the shore. it's funny really. never thought of myself as a swimmer but lately i feel like i'm perfect my strokes. it's a crazy mixeup up little world and i'm just happy to wake up on the right side of the dirt. thankful for the good and bad.
bottoms up, y'all. let's set this bitch on FIRE!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
princess movies & internet porn
I saw something recently that both amused me and disturbed me for the exact same reason...it's the truth. About the state of relationships between men and women:
What do you expect from a generation raised on fairy princess movies and internet porn?
Now I can't recall where I saw or heard this little quip but I have to say, it's taken up real estate in my head since. I've been dissecting (and digesting) my current love affair lately. The differences in how J and I relate to each other in terms of expectations. What does he expect from me? A blowjob every night and a maids outfit (not that I would be opposed entirely). And what do I expect in return? Surprise flowers and a special little gift for no apparent reason (followed by a little something in the sack). I knew at some point that reality would shatter my little love bubble but I was not prepared for the fact that I would be the one to hold the needle.
J and I have been having some pretty serious issues lately. What's interesting to me, and what's unique about our relationship, is that when we are together...it can be magical. Fo shizzle, yo. Some real live shit magic! He makes me swoon with a smile, knows how to handle my temperament in a loving way, makes me feel beautiful and loved and sexy and smart and wonderful. So what's the dizzle yo fizzle?
He's not a part of my everyday life...and that's starting to suck the life out of our relationship. I see him once or twice a week, I rarely spend more than a couple of hours with him during the daylight hours and frankly, I feel neglected. More than neglected. I feel ignored. Granted, I know that's not his intention. I know the facts and the challenges that face both of us. He's a hard working man who has a physically demanding job. I'm a hard working woman who is trying to make a living while squeezing in a full time house and family and car and bills and and and...it's overwhelming. Certainly enough for any relationship to withstand.
Nobody ever said it would be easy but I certainly thought it would be worth it. But it's not right now. And that's not okay with me. We've been back and forth and around the block on this issue...I need more! Whether that's right or wrong, I need it and I want it and frankly, I deserve it. We're all rats in the race of life but I'm tired of being in the cage alone. I'm tired of running on the wheel while I wait for some company. While I wait for a man who knows my heart, loves me wholly and fully, who still makes me want to be a better woman. But where is he when my heart hurts, when I don't feel like I'm lovable, when all I want to do is run and hide. I need a consistent feeling of security and love.
I just want to sit on a couch on a Saturday afternoon, do laundry, hang out, watch TV, take a nap and just be. Just to be for an afternoon with the man that I love so deeply. And yet we are nearly 3 years into this thing and that still isn't happening. It's just not happening and I feel like the only willing participant.
Which takes me back to the funny and not so funny in the truth about princess movies and internet porn. We, as men and women, have different expectations of what a relationship means. Of what we want out of love but more so, more than any delusional idea, we NEED different things from our idea of love. I'm not saying that I don't want a little internet porn too but I also want to be swept away now and again and treated to a surprise night out. A special gift that's made just for me. I want time and energy and consideration. Unfortunately I'm just not sure he can give me what I need. I'm just not sure how my idea of this fairy tale will end. I don't know anymore.
What do you expect from a generation raised on fairy princess movies and internet porn?
Now I can't recall where I saw or heard this little quip but I have to say, it's taken up real estate in my head since. I've been dissecting (and digesting) my current love affair lately. The differences in how J and I relate to each other in terms of expectations. What does he expect from me? A blowjob every night and a maids outfit (not that I would be opposed entirely). And what do I expect in return? Surprise flowers and a special little gift for no apparent reason (followed by a little something in the sack). I knew at some point that reality would shatter my little love bubble but I was not prepared for the fact that I would be the one to hold the needle.
J and I have been having some pretty serious issues lately. What's interesting to me, and what's unique about our relationship, is that when we are together...it can be magical. Fo shizzle, yo. Some real live shit magic! He makes me swoon with a smile, knows how to handle my temperament in a loving way, makes me feel beautiful and loved and sexy and smart and wonderful. So what's the dizzle yo fizzle?
He's not a part of my everyday life...and that's starting to suck the life out of our relationship. I see him once or twice a week, I rarely spend more than a couple of hours with him during the daylight hours and frankly, I feel neglected. More than neglected. I feel ignored. Granted, I know that's not his intention. I know the facts and the challenges that face both of us. He's a hard working man who has a physically demanding job. I'm a hard working woman who is trying to make a living while squeezing in a full time house and family and car and bills and and and...it's overwhelming. Certainly enough for any relationship to withstand.
Nobody ever said it would be easy but I certainly thought it would be worth it. But it's not right now. And that's not okay with me. We've been back and forth and around the block on this issue...I need more! Whether that's right or wrong, I need it and I want it and frankly, I deserve it. We're all rats in the race of life but I'm tired of being in the cage alone. I'm tired of running on the wheel while I wait for some company. While I wait for a man who knows my heart, loves me wholly and fully, who still makes me want to be a better woman. But where is he when my heart hurts, when I don't feel like I'm lovable, when all I want to do is run and hide. I need a consistent feeling of security and love.
I just want to sit on a couch on a Saturday afternoon, do laundry, hang out, watch TV, take a nap and just be. Just to be for an afternoon with the man that I love so deeply. And yet we are nearly 3 years into this thing and that still isn't happening. It's just not happening and I feel like the only willing participant.
Which takes me back to the funny and not so funny in the truth about princess movies and internet porn. We, as men and women, have different expectations of what a relationship means. Of what we want out of love but more so, more than any delusional idea, we NEED different things from our idea of love. I'm not saying that I don't want a little internet porn too but I also want to be swept away now and again and treated to a surprise night out. A special gift that's made just for me. I want time and energy and consideration. Unfortunately I'm just not sure he can give me what I need. I'm just not sure how my idea of this fairy tale will end. I don't know anymore.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
breathe
do you ever stop some days and just give thanks for being able to take a breathe? i'll admit, i didn't until recently. in fact, i think i've been in a mindset of not being thankful for a long time. i remember being a teenager and thinking i was invincible. a simple invincibility that gave me a great deal of freedom and even more selfish indulgences. i think that's pretty common as a teen.
into my 20's i was a bit more aware of how fortunate a life i led. i think it started after the rape, then continued to develop when i fell in love with d, then met and married fuckhead, then a baby at 28 that barely survive her early arrival. all of it put some things into perspective. but despite the good and bad of those 10 years, i can't remember waking up in the morning and just being happy to be able to take a deep breath.
the past 9 years of my 30's have been tumultuous, filled with change and love and anger and and and...you name it, i feel like i've been there, done that. here's the strange thing though. in the last two years i've breathed a happy, grateful sigh more often than i can remember. i woke up this morning and it was as if the air had never smelled as sweet. it hit my lungs like a burst of cold air. i felt it in every inch of me. despite the fact that things don't always go my way, things can be incredibly challenging, my evil self doubting voice sometimes comes up before i can take a breath, i'm still breathing. and it feels wonderful.
today i wake up thankful for the good, the bad, the ugly, the sweet, the passionate life that i am leading. i think that's the key...i'm leading it! i'm trusting in the experience. all of it and i don't feel burdened by life anymore. instead i'm filled with gratitude to still be here, to get another chance everyday to see how things unfold. to experience all there is to experience in the day. my dear friend, j, continues to remind me to live one day at a time. that's the only way to live. i keep trying to do it on a larger scale but when it comes down to it, it's all about one thing at a time, one moment at a time, one simple day at a time makes all the simple things so much more alive.
breathe, i'll take it. hopeful that i get another chance to do the same tomorrow. but for today, i will breathe.
into my 20's i was a bit more aware of how fortunate a life i led. i think it started after the rape, then continued to develop when i fell in love with d, then met and married fuckhead, then a baby at 28 that barely survive her early arrival. all of it put some things into perspective. but despite the good and bad of those 10 years, i can't remember waking up in the morning and just being happy to be able to take a deep breath.
the past 9 years of my 30's have been tumultuous, filled with change and love and anger and and and...you name it, i feel like i've been there, done that. here's the strange thing though. in the last two years i've breathed a happy, grateful sigh more often than i can remember. i woke up this morning and it was as if the air had never smelled as sweet. it hit my lungs like a burst of cold air. i felt it in every inch of me. despite the fact that things don't always go my way, things can be incredibly challenging, my evil self doubting voice sometimes comes up before i can take a breath, i'm still breathing. and it feels wonderful.
today i wake up thankful for the good, the bad, the ugly, the sweet, the passionate life that i am leading. i think that's the key...i'm leading it! i'm trusting in the experience. all of it and i don't feel burdened by life anymore. instead i'm filled with gratitude to still be here, to get another chance everyday to see how things unfold. to experience all there is to experience in the day. my dear friend, j, continues to remind me to live one day at a time. that's the only way to live. i keep trying to do it on a larger scale but when it comes down to it, it's all about one thing at a time, one moment at a time, one simple day at a time makes all the simple things so much more alive.
breathe, i'll take it. hopeful that i get another chance to do the same tomorrow. but for today, i will breathe.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
care
i'm sure we've all heard the old adage that in order for someone else to truly love you, you have to love yourself. it always sounded like a bunch of horseshit until i realized the truth in that statement.
tonight i had the displeasure of going through what i like to call a mini-breakdown. it included panic, fear, loathing, hate, loneliness, fatigue, anger and a whole bunch of hurt and self doubt. this happens to me when i least expect it which makes it hurt all the more. i mean, really, iris....don't you know yourself well enough to know the warning signs? apparently not.
i've had a rough couple of weeks. between opportunities at work literally knocking down my door (which is a great thing but scary) to my kidlets being away from me pre-christmas to them being home with me post-christmas to being alone with my thoughts during those two weeks, well, i've been living in my head more than usual. this, if you know me at all, is not a positive thing. you see, the voices that are in my head are not particularly nice to me. granted, they've improved drastically but still, they don't sound great. i've said many times that although i want them to sound like barry white and woo me into a seductive trance, wafting at me and making me love every inch of my beautiful soul, it doesn't happen. the voice sounds more like courtney love after a bender...or maybe before a bender. either way it's a gruff, smoky, ugly bitch of a voice that scream obscenities at me and plays really bad grunge music which smearing lipstick all over her bruised face. it aint pretty.
so here i am. alone in my big house. it doesn't feel like a home right now. what makes it a home is my family. and right now they are 1/2 a mile away at dickhole's house, likely asleep and happy in their beds which leaves me with a real joy. if they're happy then that's all that matters to me. and the other part of my life that feels like home was off fixing a car somewhere for a friend. and here i sit. desperate to figure out how to care for myself. if i'm worth caring for. if he understands just how much care i need sometimes. if i should even ask for such care from someone other than myself?
unfortunately the answer is far too clear when it comes to my sweet westley. he isn't here. he's just not here. and i'm not sure he can be here the way that i crave. for a warm body next to me to lull to sleep. for a kind word or a sweet glance when i'm on the verge of tears. for a conversation that will get me out of my head and back to a place where i can listen to my real voice, not the ugly post grunge 40something in my head. she's ugly and i don't like how she treats me.
instead i told him. i told him how disappointed and hurt and angry i am that i'm never at the top of his to do list. i suggested we take a break and see where things unfold. see where i fit into his world. where i fit into my own. and you know what...i deserve more. i deserve to be the center of my life. i deserve to be the center of my own fucking life and i deserve companionship and love and support. but who am i to look for it in someone else, through someone else? who am i to demand such a powerful love when i can't love myself in that same way? i mean really...what the fuck! i know it's not in someone else, even the love that he give and that has become a part of me. i have it within me. yes, i still see there being a real problem when it comes to feeling like i'm part of his everyday but it's my problem, not his.
when push comes to shove, i have it deep within me. under the ugly courtney love voice is a melodic, powerful voice that resonates and pushes her out. it's loud, it's fucking dial goes way past eleven and although i can't put a name to the voice, i know her. she tells me that i'm loved and that i contain a multitude. that i'm fine just as i am and that all of this, all of this that we do everyday to stay above water, is for a great reason. a greater reason than i will ever understand and that i need to trust the process, not just the immediate result. but fuck, it's so hard sometimes. sometimes i just have to have my mini-breakdown and say "i want the entire story, straight up, in front of me for me to control and know and see and feel and touch and understand".
so tonight i'm not dulling the pain or the voices with a pint of mint chocolate chip...although a swiss cake roll would be my fucking bitch if i weren't already in my jammies!!! instead i'm writing about how i feel. i'm crying, i'm weeping, i'm beating my fist into my pillow and i'm feeling all of it. i'm writing about being hurt and feeling ignored. by him and by myself. enough already. i won't be ignored, i won't be a burden, i refuse to be a martyr and i refuse to be anything less than iris.
for whatever reason, i want to run. i want to run and feel it and ache and become breathless and feel it and feel it and feel it. all of it. i think it's time i start caring. i want to care.
tonight i had the displeasure of going through what i like to call a mini-breakdown. it included panic, fear, loathing, hate, loneliness, fatigue, anger and a whole bunch of hurt and self doubt. this happens to me when i least expect it which makes it hurt all the more. i mean, really, iris....don't you know yourself well enough to know the warning signs? apparently not.
i've had a rough couple of weeks. between opportunities at work literally knocking down my door (which is a great thing but scary) to my kidlets being away from me pre-christmas to them being home with me post-christmas to being alone with my thoughts during those two weeks, well, i've been living in my head more than usual. this, if you know me at all, is not a positive thing. you see, the voices that are in my head are not particularly nice to me. granted, they've improved drastically but still, they don't sound great. i've said many times that although i want them to sound like barry white and woo me into a seductive trance, wafting at me and making me love every inch of my beautiful soul, it doesn't happen. the voice sounds more like courtney love after a bender...or maybe before a bender. either way it's a gruff, smoky, ugly bitch of a voice that scream obscenities at me and plays really bad grunge music which smearing lipstick all over her bruised face. it aint pretty.
so here i am. alone in my big house. it doesn't feel like a home right now. what makes it a home is my family. and right now they are 1/2 a mile away at dickhole's house, likely asleep and happy in their beds which leaves me with a real joy. if they're happy then that's all that matters to me. and the other part of my life that feels like home was off fixing a car somewhere for a friend. and here i sit. desperate to figure out how to care for myself. if i'm worth caring for. if he understands just how much care i need sometimes. if i should even ask for such care from someone other than myself?
unfortunately the answer is far too clear when it comes to my sweet westley. he isn't here. he's just not here. and i'm not sure he can be here the way that i crave. for a warm body next to me to lull to sleep. for a kind word or a sweet glance when i'm on the verge of tears. for a conversation that will get me out of my head and back to a place where i can listen to my real voice, not the ugly post grunge 40something in my head. she's ugly and i don't like how she treats me.
instead i told him. i told him how disappointed and hurt and angry i am that i'm never at the top of his to do list. i suggested we take a break and see where things unfold. see where i fit into his world. where i fit into my own. and you know what...i deserve more. i deserve to be the center of my life. i deserve to be the center of my own fucking life and i deserve companionship and love and support. but who am i to look for it in someone else, through someone else? who am i to demand such a powerful love when i can't love myself in that same way? i mean really...what the fuck! i know it's not in someone else, even the love that he give and that has become a part of me. i have it within me. yes, i still see there being a real problem when it comes to feeling like i'm part of his everyday but it's my problem, not his.
when push comes to shove, i have it deep within me. under the ugly courtney love voice is a melodic, powerful voice that resonates and pushes her out. it's loud, it's fucking dial goes way past eleven and although i can't put a name to the voice, i know her. she tells me that i'm loved and that i contain a multitude. that i'm fine just as i am and that all of this, all of this that we do everyday to stay above water, is for a great reason. a greater reason than i will ever understand and that i need to trust the process, not just the immediate result. but fuck, it's so hard sometimes. sometimes i just have to have my mini-breakdown and say "i want the entire story, straight up, in front of me for me to control and know and see and feel and touch and understand".
so tonight i'm not dulling the pain or the voices with a pint of mint chocolate chip...although a swiss cake roll would be my fucking bitch if i weren't already in my jammies!!! instead i'm writing about how i feel. i'm crying, i'm weeping, i'm beating my fist into my pillow and i'm feeling all of it. i'm writing about being hurt and feeling ignored. by him and by myself. enough already. i won't be ignored, i won't be a burden, i refuse to be a martyr and i refuse to be anything less than iris.
for whatever reason, i want to run. i want to run and feel it and ache and become breathless and feel it and feel it and feel it. all of it. i think it's time i start caring. i want to care.
Friday, January 6, 2012
from salmon to mint chocolate chip....
for dinner, this evening, i had a maple glazed salmon over kale that had been cooked with pinenuts and garlic. it was amazing. during the dinner i had three glasses of "house" merlot which was anything but house. it was steele merlot and it was fucking good. at the end of the night i wasn't sure how i would get home. i couldn't help but hold onto my dinner date for dear life, not wanting
to let go of his hug because it felt like a person. like a companion. was i too drunk to drive? was i still hungry? was i full? was i fucked?
all great questions and i'm now in a semi-sober position in which to respond. before i forget...this is the first time i've ever blogged while intoxicated. ever. fer realz. i've never made a decision to blog after having a few beverages but tonight seems especially fitting. i feel like all my thoughts and emotions have risen to the surface like the fat off of the gravy at thanksgiving dinner. separated, coagulated and divided in a real way...not just in my way.
so here i sit. buzzed. okay, nevermind. inebriated. not buzzed. buzzed is an understatement. and on top of it all, i have a ton on my mind. from new frontiers and opportunities at work to my physical well being to the man i thought i would love forever, well, nothing seems real anymore. i went to dinner tonight with a great friend, a good friend, a male friend that i love and respect. there's no sexual tension. it's just us being us and i love having a male friend again that can relate to me, understand me, laugh at me and with me. and as we were talking, as we are discussing what we want out of life, out of our "mates, i discovered something real and yet highly uncomfortable.
i have a crazy fucking idea of what i want!!! i want someone with whom to spend my life, to share my joy with. to sit and watch a goofy fucking will farrell movie, someone to make me a romantic dinner, someone to pull my hair and fuck me like they stole me, someone to help fold laundry, someone to cook with, someone to love and someone to love me. isn't that what we all want? the ultimate partner that will provide all the parts of us with all the parts we want? i mean really. who has that?
i don't. i have a wonderful man in justin, who loves me and treats me as if i'm the only woman in the world, but only when he can. otherwise i'm on my own. what does that mean? i'm on my own? i watch stupid movies alone, i eat dinner alone, i fold laundry alone. and i'm not happy. i'm fine with being independent but being lonely, being lonely when it hurts....i'm not happy.
what i've come to realize is that if i'm unhappy there are a few things that can happen. 1. i can remain unhappy. 2. i can do something to change it.
we all know i'm all too familiar with option #1 and it is no longer an option. NO LONGER AN OPTION.
option #2, however, is something i'm considering...and trying to figure out. what can i do to change it? do i move forward with this wonderful man yet stand my ground and demand more time, more attention, more of what i need to thrive? or is it the opposite. do i demand that i have more time to myself, more attention for myself, more time to figure out what i really need to thrive as an individual.
what a strange and empowering question. one that is muffled by a pint of mint chocolate chip followed by a pint of orange swirl sherbert. between the 2 pints of ice cream, the glazed salmon and the tears, hopefully there will be a new day tomorrow that will continue to open me, enrich me and lead me to an answer. what do i really want and what do i really need. fuck if i know!!!
all great questions and i'm now in a semi-sober position in which to respond. before i forget...this is the first time i've ever blogged while intoxicated. ever. fer realz. i've never made a decision to blog after having a few beverages but tonight seems especially fitting. i feel like all my thoughts and emotions have risen to the surface like the fat off of the gravy at thanksgiving dinner. separated, coagulated and divided in a real way...not just in my way.
so here i sit. buzzed. okay, nevermind. inebriated. not buzzed. buzzed is an understatement. and on top of it all, i have a ton on my mind. from new frontiers and opportunities at work to my physical well being to the man i thought i would love forever, well, nothing seems real anymore. i went to dinner tonight with a great friend, a good friend, a male friend that i love and respect. there's no sexual tension. it's just us being us and i love having a male friend again that can relate to me, understand me, laugh at me and with me. and as we were talking, as we are discussing what we want out of life, out of our "mates, i discovered something real and yet highly uncomfortable.
i have a crazy fucking idea of what i want!!! i want someone with whom to spend my life, to share my joy with. to sit and watch a goofy fucking will farrell movie, someone to make me a romantic dinner, someone to pull my hair and fuck me like they stole me, someone to help fold laundry, someone to cook with, someone to love and someone to love me. isn't that what we all want? the ultimate partner that will provide all the parts of us with all the parts we want? i mean really. who has that?
i don't. i have a wonderful man in justin, who loves me and treats me as if i'm the only woman in the world, but only when he can. otherwise i'm on my own. what does that mean? i'm on my own? i watch stupid movies alone, i eat dinner alone, i fold laundry alone. and i'm not happy. i'm fine with being independent but being lonely, being lonely when it hurts....i'm not happy.
what i've come to realize is that if i'm unhappy there are a few things that can happen. 1. i can remain unhappy. 2. i can do something to change it.
we all know i'm all too familiar with option #1 and it is no longer an option. NO LONGER AN OPTION.
option #2, however, is something i'm considering...and trying to figure out. what can i do to change it? do i move forward with this wonderful man yet stand my ground and demand more time, more attention, more of what i need to thrive? or is it the opposite. do i demand that i have more time to myself, more attention for myself, more time to figure out what i really need to thrive as an individual.
what a strange and empowering question. one that is muffled by a pint of mint chocolate chip followed by a pint of orange swirl sherbert. between the 2 pints of ice cream, the glazed salmon and the tears, hopefully there will be a new day tomorrow that will continue to open me, enrich me and lead me to an answer. what do i really want and what do i really need. fuck if i know!!!
Monday, January 2, 2012
2012 begins...
ah yes. we meet again my dear blog. i've been struggling for months trying to write. not figuring out what to write but how to write it. i suppose i could call it writers block...if i considered myself a writer. but i don't so i'm referring to it as "expressive" block. after all, that's the part that has had me stumped and without words for a while. my expressiveness has nowhere to go and even if it did, has lost it's map.
instead i'm sitting down tonight, on this second day of 2012, and just gonna let it go. like the good old days, for those folks who have read my entire blog. i have been know to sit down from time to time and just let it all go. all the fucks, all the fears, all the loathing and hate and love and sin and life just pours out of me and onto my little virtual paper. and it feels so cleansing when i'm able to be that in touch with myself.
you see, the turning of another year has left me stumped. where am i in my life? who is that woman in the mirror that i see everyday? where is she going in such a rush? why can't she eat just one cookie? so many questions and it all seems like a blur.
here goes nothing: i had no job, no prospects, no direction. i wanted a home to call my own and nothing else. i waited and waited and waited some more for the house, then i got it, then i started to fix it, and paint it, and fix it some more, and paint it some more and then i moved in, and then it all fell quiet for a short while. then i decided it was time to seek out what i needed next. i got a job. a good job. a part time job in a contemporary art museum, i worked, nights, weekends, days, whenever and wherever they needed me. and they liked me. they even promoted me and will likely be doing it again soon. i had a financial awakening and gave my mother all of my bills, past, present, future and asked for her help. she helped and has been pivotal in my spending habits being scaled back. i'm more comfortable, happier, more free financially than in my entire adult life. it fucking kicks ass knowing i'm going to be alright. i started working more. a bunch more. the kids finished school and the summer began. one week with me, one week with sperm donor and it was exhausting, frustrating and altogether uncomfortable. until finally it was comfortable. i've given up on trying to control what happens when they are with him. only focusing on the time i have with them. again, such relief from that stress i can't express it. my sweet westley and i celebrated 2 years since we indulged in that wonderful pulled pork sammich lunch in july. things are still magical but more complicated. real life romance is difficult to protect and maintain. but i love him and i still get those silly butterflies when he kisses me just so. kids went back to school in the fall, i've been running from here to there to here and then back to there. work. school. activities. laundry...oh, the fucking laundry. i'm over it. i've decided that hell is just a big laundromat with piles and piles of dirty laundry that never gets any smaller. halloween, thanksgiving, christmas holidays and now a new year begins - and there's still a shit-ton of laundry to do - but i digress.
somewhere in the middle of it all, i've maintained my sanity (partially), i've continued to be medicated for my depression and anxiety but you know what, i don't feel nearly as anxious, or as frequently uncomfortable. i'm still in love and loved, i struggle with relationships and feeling accepted but it's starting to feel normal, the eating has continued but becomes less and less a part of my daily life. granted, i'm no supermodel but i'm coming to terms with the fact that it will take time. lots and lots of time. it took me 15 years to put it on.....it's not coming off in 1 year. i've rekindled and maintained some amazing friendships, i've watched as my children have grown, i've watched as i've grown, i'm working, i have some incredible opportunities on these spinning plates and i'm in a place in my life where things are finally beginning to gel a little. there's still lots of cracks and wiggles and weirdness but that's just fucking life. no way around it. if you want the great stuff, the a-ha moments in life, you have to come to terms with all the other things that go along with it. the ugliness, the selfishness, the criticism, the self doubt, the anger, the resentment but what you end up getting, or at least what i've received this year, is enlightenment, love, understanding, beauty, humor, forgiveness and what it means to be alive. truly alive and owning your energy, your life, yourself.
my new years resolution: continue to live. one fucking day at a time. so far, it's turning out to be a beautiful ride and one that was well worth the wait!
instead i'm sitting down tonight, on this second day of 2012, and just gonna let it go. like the good old days, for those folks who have read my entire blog. i have been know to sit down from time to time and just let it all go. all the fucks, all the fears, all the loathing and hate and love and sin and life just pours out of me and onto my little virtual paper. and it feels so cleansing when i'm able to be that in touch with myself.
you see, the turning of another year has left me stumped. where am i in my life? who is that woman in the mirror that i see everyday? where is she going in such a rush? why can't she eat just one cookie? so many questions and it all seems like a blur.
here goes nothing: i had no job, no prospects, no direction. i wanted a home to call my own and nothing else. i waited and waited and waited some more for the house, then i got it, then i started to fix it, and paint it, and fix it some more, and paint it some more and then i moved in, and then it all fell quiet for a short while. then i decided it was time to seek out what i needed next. i got a job. a good job. a part time job in a contemporary art museum, i worked, nights, weekends, days, whenever and wherever they needed me. and they liked me. they even promoted me and will likely be doing it again soon. i had a financial awakening and gave my mother all of my bills, past, present, future and asked for her help. she helped and has been pivotal in my spending habits being scaled back. i'm more comfortable, happier, more free financially than in my entire adult life. it fucking kicks ass knowing i'm going to be alright. i started working more. a bunch more. the kids finished school and the summer began. one week with me, one week with sperm donor and it was exhausting, frustrating and altogether uncomfortable. until finally it was comfortable. i've given up on trying to control what happens when they are with him. only focusing on the time i have with them. again, such relief from that stress i can't express it. my sweet westley and i celebrated 2 years since we indulged in that wonderful pulled pork sammich lunch in july. things are still magical but more complicated. real life romance is difficult to protect and maintain. but i love him and i still get those silly butterflies when he kisses me just so. kids went back to school in the fall, i've been running from here to there to here and then back to there. work. school. activities. laundry...oh, the fucking laundry. i'm over it. i've decided that hell is just a big laundromat with piles and piles of dirty laundry that never gets any smaller. halloween, thanksgiving, christmas holidays and now a new year begins - and there's still a shit-ton of laundry to do - but i digress.
somewhere in the middle of it all, i've maintained my sanity (partially), i've continued to be medicated for my depression and anxiety but you know what, i don't feel nearly as anxious, or as frequently uncomfortable. i'm still in love and loved, i struggle with relationships and feeling accepted but it's starting to feel normal, the eating has continued but becomes less and less a part of my daily life. granted, i'm no supermodel but i'm coming to terms with the fact that it will take time. lots and lots of time. it took me 15 years to put it on.....it's not coming off in 1 year. i've rekindled and maintained some amazing friendships, i've watched as my children have grown, i've watched as i've grown, i'm working, i have some incredible opportunities on these spinning plates and i'm in a place in my life where things are finally beginning to gel a little. there's still lots of cracks and wiggles and weirdness but that's just fucking life. no way around it. if you want the great stuff, the a-ha moments in life, you have to come to terms with all the other things that go along with it. the ugliness, the selfishness, the criticism, the self doubt, the anger, the resentment but what you end up getting, or at least what i've received this year, is enlightenment, love, understanding, beauty, humor, forgiveness and what it means to be alive. truly alive and owning your energy, your life, yourself.
my new years resolution: continue to live. one fucking day at a time. so far, it's turning out to be a beautiful ride and one that was well worth the wait!
Monday, September 26, 2011
the fixer
anytime i use the term "fixer" when describing someone i generally have the image of mr. wolf in pulp fiction. a tarantino staple of the film. a man who gets called in to fix other people's problem. in the case of pulp fiction, he is called in to fix vincent's brain splattering fuckup in the backseat of a car. slowly, calmly, mr. wolf appears and directs, orders, fixes the situation.
now, this may seem like a real hipster reference for me, and we all know i'm nowhere near being labeled as a hipster, but it's just the example that's on my mind. and just so i clear something up from the get go here, i'm not a catagorizing sort. i hate to be put in a box and doubt anyone else likes a label attached to them either. it's just that there's a pattern. a real pattern for me and my relationships with "fixers".
i was at a drinks/dinner function with folks from work the other night. a lot of fun. there's one colleague in particular who i find myself most comfortable and most engaged. it's a man, no real surprise there, and i appreciate and love having men as friends. always have and now is no different. we were talking on a deeper level than just "shop talk" and in the course of our conversation it hit me. i'm attracted to people who are fixers!
when i say attracted, don't misinterpret. i'm not attracted to him in a romantic sense. he's attractive, yes. he's bright, funny, kind, easy conversation,etc. but just as friends. with that disclaimer out of the way....he makes me think outside the box. really interesting guy. so here we are talking and comparing life experiences and the way we look at things in general. we have similar philosophies and ideals. we have similar approaches to problem solving and then it hit me. he's a fixer. justin is a fixer. i'm in essence deep down a fixer too.
in usual iris style, i started dissecting my past and present only to find that i've always been drawn to fixers. certainly this love i have with ownsastud is rooted in that quality to come in and overhaul. to start over. start fresh. fix the broken parts. this had me thinking: am i attracted to "fixers" because i am one myself? is it just that birds of a feather flock together or is it something deeper?
so this all started friday evening and here i was, sunday morning, still wrestling with this fixer realization. and when i say wrestling, i mean really losing sleep over the whole fucking lot. i wasn't feeling like myself. a pissy version of myself. so justin comes over, we go out to have breakfast and it happened again. that collision of conversation that we so often share and it hit me. right there in the middle of eggs at the suburban village inn on a sunday morning. i am desperate to be fixed. i want my flaws, my problems, my life, my shortcomings to be fixed by someone, anyone, anything. that's what i've always wanted. to be fixed. to have a fatal flaw corrected. to just be someone else. and i've been looking for it in other people for as long as i can remember. wow. pick me up off the fucking floor with this epiphany!
no wonder i haven't been able to give up using food to cope. it's my fixer. it's my fixative. it reinforces just how much i don't accept the core of who i am. with all the fat layers over it, nobody can see what i see. nobody can get to what i can get to. nope. nobody can get deep down into me to see the ugliness. where the hell did this fear of self come from? when did it start and how do i get it to stop? when will i stop trying to fix what is not broken?
those are all questions i can't answer right now. perhaps i never will answer them and frankly, i don't know that they need an answer. just acceptance. i'm not broken and i don't need anyone or anything to fix me and i know that. my logical self knows this as fact but emotionally, deep down, i still see myself as broken.
instead of seeking those that fix, i'm going to take some time to myself. i'm purging my brain, once again, of the negative feelings and the way i see myself. instead i'm trying on a different pair of glasses and looking hard, really really hard, for what other see in me. if you see me walking around squinting and complaining that everything looks blurry, you'll know that i'm still working hard at trying to find myself. just hope it doesn't turn into a search for waldo. i don't look good in stripes.
now, this may seem like a real hipster reference for me, and we all know i'm nowhere near being labeled as a hipster, but it's just the example that's on my mind. and just so i clear something up from the get go here, i'm not a catagorizing sort. i hate to be put in a box and doubt anyone else likes a label attached to them either. it's just that there's a pattern. a real pattern for me and my relationships with "fixers".
i was at a drinks/dinner function with folks from work the other night. a lot of fun. there's one colleague in particular who i find myself most comfortable and most engaged. it's a man, no real surprise there, and i appreciate and love having men as friends. always have and now is no different. we were talking on a deeper level than just "shop talk" and in the course of our conversation it hit me. i'm attracted to people who are fixers!
when i say attracted, don't misinterpret. i'm not attracted to him in a romantic sense. he's attractive, yes. he's bright, funny, kind, easy conversation,etc. but just as friends. with that disclaimer out of the way....he makes me think outside the box. really interesting guy. so here we are talking and comparing life experiences and the way we look at things in general. we have similar philosophies and ideals. we have similar approaches to problem solving and then it hit me. he's a fixer. justin is a fixer. i'm in essence deep down a fixer too.
in usual iris style, i started dissecting my past and present only to find that i've always been drawn to fixers. certainly this love i have with ownsastud is rooted in that quality to come in and overhaul. to start over. start fresh. fix the broken parts. this had me thinking: am i attracted to "fixers" because i am one myself? is it just that birds of a feather flock together or is it something deeper?
so this all started friday evening and here i was, sunday morning, still wrestling with this fixer realization. and when i say wrestling, i mean really losing sleep over the whole fucking lot. i wasn't feeling like myself. a pissy version of myself. so justin comes over, we go out to have breakfast and it happened again. that collision of conversation that we so often share and it hit me. right there in the middle of eggs at the suburban village inn on a sunday morning. i am desperate to be fixed. i want my flaws, my problems, my life, my shortcomings to be fixed by someone, anyone, anything. that's what i've always wanted. to be fixed. to have a fatal flaw corrected. to just be someone else. and i've been looking for it in other people for as long as i can remember. wow. pick me up off the fucking floor with this epiphany!
no wonder i haven't been able to give up using food to cope. it's my fixer. it's my fixative. it reinforces just how much i don't accept the core of who i am. with all the fat layers over it, nobody can see what i see. nobody can get to what i can get to. nope. nobody can get deep down into me to see the ugliness. where the hell did this fear of self come from? when did it start and how do i get it to stop? when will i stop trying to fix what is not broken?
those are all questions i can't answer right now. perhaps i never will answer them and frankly, i don't know that they need an answer. just acceptance. i'm not broken and i don't need anyone or anything to fix me and i know that. my logical self knows this as fact but emotionally, deep down, i still see myself as broken.
instead of seeking those that fix, i'm going to take some time to myself. i'm purging my brain, once again, of the negative feelings and the way i see myself. instead i'm trying on a different pair of glasses and looking hard, really really hard, for what other see in me. if you see me walking around squinting and complaining that everything looks blurry, you'll know that i'm still working hard at trying to find myself. just hope it doesn't turn into a search for waldo. i don't look good in stripes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)