Rejoining

Look, i CAN take a cheery picture!

Enough skulking around in the clouds, time to rejoin the world.

The fog is lifting and my fears are easing. Being an introvert, i cannot write when i am worried. Worrying is a full time job you know.

Whining to the interwebs is a mixed bag.

For one thing, it's stupid and self-indulgent. The truth is, i really have nothing to whine about. And i always feel ashamed after i do it.

But the other thing, it's really sweet to receive your understanding and gentle comments and e-mails, letting me know that you get it, and you've been there.

Made it through my mother's birthday party. I am a bit chagrined to report that it was fun. My family is actually pretty cool. I just avoid talking to my mother as much as possible, and it all works out fine. Everyone was happy and chatty, plus the grandkids (my nieces and nephews) are such a pleasure. They are growing up.

My aunt was there, the one who is SO DIFFERENT from my mother. To her, everything is WONDERFUL and BEAUTIFUL and THE BEST EVER. It's not an attitude i can sustain, but every few years i can handle it. Plus we get to make gentle fun of her later.

The Mister took a bunch of really nice pictures at the event, which made all the old folks happy, once they figured out how to use the link we sent out in e-mail.

Untitled due to lack of inspiration

I am not the most mentally healthy person in the world, but neither am i the least. Nonetheless, there are times when i swear, if i were able to do so, that i would push a button and just vanish.

I am currently in a very familiar mental place. It is not a place i like. It is a place of fear and insecurity. I used to think that when i grew up, this wouldn't happen to me any more, because i would be all grown up and secure. But i begin to think otherwise, which makes me feel even more hopeless. Which doesn't help.

This is the definition of a positive feedback cycle.

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Right now i am sitting at the reception desk for my volunteer thing. It is a place that does counseling for kids. Waiting in the lobby are a mother and daughter both seething with resentment. This mother had called earlier saying that she couldn't find her daughter and thus didn't know if she would be able to keep the appointment.

Then they arrived over an hour early and are sitting in stony silence, occasionally broken by one of them hissing something angry at the other. The other clients are studiously avoiding eye contact.

It's sad, really.

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Today is my mother's eightieth birthday. There is an event tonight that i will be attending. I have known about the event for months, but my subconscious has been playing tricks on me all week and been trying to get me to schedule something else for tonight.

Subconscious: Hey, wouldn't Thursday be a great night to go see the Star Trek movie?

Me: Oh hey! Great idea subconscious! Oh......wait.

a few days later;

Subconscious: You know, Thursday would be a great night to go out to dinner at that Italian place. You haven't been there in months and you deserve it.

Me: Oh yeah! I could really go for some of that creamy tomato pasta they make. Oh....wait. *sigh*

In praise of retirement

I do this volunteer thing, a few times a week. It's fun, and it keeps me out of the bingo halls.


I've been doing it for about three years now so i know most of the employees. Many of them like to talk to me. They talk to me about each other. Much of it is complaining. I almost always understand what they are complaining about, and i might even agree with them. I listen and i nod and i tell them that i get it, but that, actually, i like so-and-so.

I am free to like more people because i don't have to work with them. Things that would absolutely drive me bananas (disorganization, lack of follow-through, tardiness, incessant pen clicking, baby talking to boyfriends over the phone, inflexibility, etc.) are not my problem anymore.

When i worked i was more judgmental, i suppose because i had to be to get shit done.

I don't have to do projects anymore with incompetent, lazy or just plain clueless people. I am just free to enjoy the people, and then go home.

It rocks.

Skinny bitch

Em discovers the perfect food. (Gratuitous photo.)

Guess WHAT??

I have lost 6 pounds in the last three days!

Yep, thanks to the stomach flu, which is a lot like the prep for a colonoscopy, except with vomiting thrown in for added fun. Wheee!

The whole family is down, first me, then Em, now The Mister. Em, because of her extreme youth, is all better. I am much better, and The Mister is on the downslide. Poor man.

The flu experience reminded me of something that happened in the Chicago airport last week. I was positioned before a food purveyor, perusing the possibilities, when some woman says, "Excuse me, i was here first! You skinny people think you are so much better than the rest of us."

I looked around, blinking, to see to whom this hostility was directed. It was me. (Or was it i?)

"Oh," i say, flustered, "i'm sorry. I was just looking, please go ahead."

I think she might have been chagrined to realize that i had not cut her off, that i was just pondering, but no apology was forthcoming.

And while i might occasionally think i am better than some people, i do not think i am better than everyone.

Whenever people tell me what i think, i know that they are really telling me what they think. I'm sorry she feels so badly about herself.

A brief diary entry

I been a'travelin'.

The Mister went off to India. Then i went off to Cannon Beach, Oregon, with a girlfriend for a few days.

I got home Monday. The Mister got home Tuesday. I left Wednesday for Ohio, to help Em move home for the summer. (Egads! My little tiny bald newborn baby girl just finished her first year of college!)

We fly home tomorrow.

It will take a few days for my soul to catch up with me.

I think i'll amuse myself now by drawing stylized genitalia in the Gideons Bible.

An insane woman

There's something in me that cannot give up trying to take care of people. Trying to herd him into doing what i think he needs to do to take care of himself.

Dropping little hints about resting and taking it easy when i see the exhaustion and illness in his eyes.

You know that old saying that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Yeah. That would make me an insane person.

You cannot make someone take care of himself if he doesn't want to.

Tonight i am going to remain quiet. I will not be sending that text message suggesting that it might be okay to make an early night of it. I will not be making that phone call offering chicken soup (figuratively) and suggesting ibuprofen (literally) that might help take away the pain.

I think i'm being helpful, but that doesn't make it true.

It's really an arrogance in me thinking that i can offer help. It hasn't worked for....many years. So that means it's not going to work.

So give it up already.