The last straw

You gave your notice. You're supposed to be doing office work because of your "condition." I normally sympathize. Normally. But the boss asked you to do that damn report because we worked 12 hours getting your crap done for your visit. For your walk thru. And still you half-assed it. Maybe because you don't care. But I do care. My name was on it and I had to redo it at 1 in the morning after a hellish day that started with email wars at 5:30 am.

I feel no remorse when I say, you are a bad "colleague," if you can call yourself that. You make me angry beyond words because you are not a team player, merely a selfish person disguised in a psuedo-friendly demeanor.

You're a bitch and I'm glad you're leaving.

Happy?

Today is a good day. I slept in (sleeping in for me is 7 am...disgusting, I know) and had a leisurely conversation with an old friend in Texas shortly after I woke up. We hadn't talked in so long, so we were, naturally, catching up. Towards the end of the conversation, she said something so profound to me.

"You're so happy. Things are finally falling into place for you," she commented.
I sort of laughed.

"Do I sound happy? I guess sometimes I don't even realize it."

"2 years ago, you were working with me and while you were great at what you did, I knew you were destined for greater things. I'm just glad they've finally found you."

Again, good ole water works started. We ended our conversation and as I lay in bed, I realized she was absolutely right. 10 years ago, I had a dream to be doing what I am doing today and here I am. I made it to a place where, no one can legitimately say, I didn't make my dream come true. Now, for me, that still means making it as a higher level executive and leading a division because I am a perfectionist and over achiever. But, never the less, I never give myself credit for the good things I do or that happen as a result of my hard work.

I have great friends. As of late, they have all been encouraging me given my current emotional status. I'm grateful to have such a reliable source of ego boosting (we all need it!), but this morning, it really sank in. It hit me square between the eyes and knocked me over. I am happy. Happier, healthier, and more successful than I have ever been. At 28 to feel this way about my life, is pretty damn amazing considering where I started from. I mean, I hope it continues to get even better.

I eventually got up and went on a run. It was a good way to mull over things since my workout time is me time. No blackberry, no interruptions. Just me, my iPod, and the treadmill. I forget who is next to me, about work, and all things in life except me and that little timer that says 45 minutes. I sort of delighted in the fact that yes, indeed, at least for today, I am happy. My early 20s were a disaster. My mid 20s were a still a disaster but the clean up was coming soon. My late 20s have been clean up mode. Letting those gaping wounds heal. Forgetting the past and letting go of the things I really can't control. Pushing myself to be more than I know I can be instead of what everyone expects. What a freaking relief!

12 days until the last year of this crazy decade commences....

The Divinyls

I was screwing around on iTunes looking for, dare I say it....90s hits. That's right. I love the 90s. It was the soundtrack to my middle school and high school years and I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the cheesy music from that decade.

I happened to stumble across the single "I touch myself" by The Divinyls. I'm not sure that anyone even remembers who the hell this group was besides me! Anyhoo, I digress. On my 18th birthday, I graduated from high school. My then BFF and a few friends went to our first night club and danced the night away in one of those themed clubs that was 5 in 1. I know you remember the ones that had dance in one room, country in another, salsa in the next, and so on. Stop acting like you don't know what the hell I'm talking about all you old farts! One of the rooms was a karoake one (of course). My friends and I sauntered in and sat down. A rather large woman got on the stage. The spotlight hit and this song began to play. She was easily 300+ lbs. We sat and watched her sing her heart out as she, literally, touched herself and moaned loudly in the microphone. I don't know whether it was the image of her gyrating and moaning in public that made us all uncomfortable but that's exactly what we were. We gave each other funny looks like retarded 18 year old kids do. Choking on our own breath we walked out and burst into laughter. I laughed until my cheeks and stomach hurt. (BTW...WTF with that album cover?!)

It was a great birthday full of laughter and fun. Certainly one I never forgot. I can't hear this song without thinking about a few things:
-that woman was braver than I will ever be. I should note I actually wore a spaghetti strap mini dress with a lacy overlay. Oh yes I did and I had these funky chunky heels to match. How freaking brave would I be to wear that AGAIN?
-I never want to sing and gyrate in public to ANY song let alone "I touch myself."
-I love the 90s: the good, the bad, the ugly.

And the countdown to 29 begins folks...

For all that it's worth

Mother's day is always a hard day for me. I am not particularly close to my mother. We've always had a turbulent relationship of sorts. We had not talked in almost 7 years before I moved to California. I had a moment of clarity one day and realized our relationship was completely mucking me up. It was pushing me over the edge of all reason and sanity. I was losing my ability to function normally and it had to stop. I went into self preservation mode and stopped all communication with her.

Last summer I decided to try to talk to her. After all, anyone, I reasoned, could change, even my mother. Don't get me wrong, we've had a peaceful interaction thus far but it's just not what a parent child relationship should be. I can't ask for her advice or tell her about my life. She doesn't understand my life and pretty much me in general.

I talked to my brother a few weeks ago and, in the course of our conversation, he told me she had been trying to feed my soon to be sister in law rumors about my dad. Really? It's been almost 15 years since everything has ended. You've married, divorced, and yet still, you feel the need to belittle the man who literally spent his life raising your children so you could run around and act like a fool?

Some things never change. It, quite honestly, breaks my heart in half. I love my mom for the simple fact, I will never have another. But I don't understand her and why she can't let go and move on. It's like she's stuck in the same spot she was 15 years ago. Life is full of disappointments and mistakes. We all make them. The point is to learn from them and move on, doing better because you know better. It's what adults do. Maybe that's where I lose my own way and perhaps all tolerance. My experiences with her have taught me to think before speaking in anger. It's taught me to forgive and yes, even forget, because that's how you get out of bed when someone makes you feel worthless. It's all these things and somehow none of them.

I went to church and cried for the 5th week in a row. I'm still crying all the time, everywhere I go, with emotions I can't even be bothered to name at this point. It's not just my ex, but it's my mom and so many other things I didn't even know existed anymore. I know our relationship will never be anything books or poems are written about. Its almost like that whole idea of a real relationship, after all these years has finally come to the end of the line. It's the death of a dream I've had for a long time that no one knows. That's a hard realization. Somewhere deep inside, I always hoped I'd be wrong. She'd grow up and participate in our adult lives. She would be a shoulder for us to lean on and not the other way around. At my age, I suppose I should know better than to hang my hopes on something so silly.

I came home from church and found my running shoes. I changed, grabbed my iPod, and headed to the gym. I laced up my shoes and did what I do best: I ran. I ran hard and cranked up the tunes. I didn't want to be left alone with my thoughts lest I burst into tears on the treadmill. When I couldn't breathe anymore, I stopped the belt and just gasped for air. I set a new PR on the treadmill for a 5k: 48:48 (11 minutes shaved off my first attempt). But it didn't make me feel better. It just made me kinda numb and really sad. I suppose even I can't out run my feelings, problems, or tears.

Pee wee and Paya

That's my dad and the youngest addition to the family via my older brother and sister in law. Tell me you don't wanna squeeze them cheeks and give them both a hug?

It sort makes me want to move closer to home and have a little one of my own. And then I remember Josiah (paya is his nickname) still poops in his diaper and shoves everything in his mouth including the dog's chew toy. My dad (pee wee is his nickname because he's ridiculously short in comparison to my brothers) still hounds me when I'm not home before 11 pm when I visit. He sniffs my breath for alcohol and gives me the crazy eye if I've been out with a boy. Did I mention I turn 29 in almost 2 weeks?!

Yeah, not so much. I enjoy my SSB time and having people, especially boys, over without consent. Besides, I get cranky about taking the dog out at 5 am when he has to pee. The moment has passed.

SSB of the moment

My SSB(secret single behavior) these days is eating reduced fat cheese puffs with a glass of crystal lite in my underwear and a tshirt on my leather recliner while watching the Biggest Loser.

Yep, faithful followers...I'm still single and available. Please form a line to the right of the weirdo sign.

a word from above

I went to church this morning. I go every Sunday and always hope that in some way God has something to say to me. It might be a "what the hell are you doing?" or maybe a chuckle at my silly mishaps. Either way, I think He exists and aside from getting a raucous laugh or two at me, is indeed interested in my small and somewhat misguided life.

The message was on the trials of life. Lately, as I have mentioned before, I've felt pretty sad and quite frankly, isolated about my love life and the progression of everyone else's path (careers/family/life in general) but my own. I can admit I've even curled up on the bed a few times and wondered if there was much more I could take in terms of bad relationships, crack head work colleagues, and yes, even some of my longest friendships. It's been a lonely, lonely place for the past few months. A lot of time has been spent wondering if all the decisions I've made thus far were really the right ones. Moving from San Antonio to Houston and eventually San Francisco. Saying no to people who loved me and saying yes to ones who have no idea what love really is. I think everything I've done over the last 28 years has come under my microscope for scrutiny. I've really tried to live my life with the attitude of if I think I might regret it, do it and deal with the fear later. Admitedly I don't know if I know anything at all about even myself. If you've never been to this place, I hope you never do. It's a tough place to be no matter how strong you think you are or how much you THINK you can take.

That's why this morning, when the man spoke about loneliness and isolation, I could feel the tears welling up. That's me. It's been me for 5 months. When he talked about how we avoid our problems, I felt pangs of guilt. I'm the one who seems like nothing bothers her. A smile to hide the pain. The trooper at work. The best friend in someone else's crisis. The giver and pillar of strength for others. Yet, I'm the one who runs on the treadmill to relieve stress and literally melts down mid stride. My last relationship was a holy shit show. It was something I whole heartedly believed in and wanted to work more than anything. When it was over there weren't tears or emotions left to empty out. And now they're all over the place welling up in me and on my mascara stained cheeks out of nowhere.

So when he said God had not forgotten me, I just about lost it. Because that's how I've felt. Did you finally just give up on me?

God knows when you're at the edge and ready to throw in the towel. He knows how you need to hear from Him and Him alone. Even if that's not what the message meant today, it's what I took from it. It made me feel like everything really would be ok. Like someone was there holding my hand. And that in some strange way made me feel better about everything good, bad, and ugly that has come confronted me in the last 5 months.

Another underwear conundrum

Let me preface this with how embarrassing this is for me to admit (yet I feel the need to share).

I had to work today and unlike my issue a few weeks ago, I am happy to report I had CLEAN underwear to put on (no swimsuit bottoms necessary!). As I have said in the past, I've lost weight. The funny thing is when you lose a little weight things fit looser, including your underwear. Slowly but surely mine have gotten a little roomier as the weeks have progressed and my eating habits and exercise routine have improved. This morning I got up, showered, and walked into my closet. I poured over my clothes for a minute and finally settled on a black, knee length summery cotton dress. The weather was supposed to be warm and breezy, perfect with a cute little boyfriend cardigan and flip flops. I grabbed a pair of underwear, got dressed, did my hair and jetted out the door to work.

I got down from my car and started walking to the store. On the way to the employee entrance I could feel my underwear getting looser and looser. I signed in, and ducked into a corner where I readjusted them and then went to work. As I was working they continued to slide and loosen with each passing hour. I kept constantly pulling them back up thoroughly annoyed. What the hell was I supposed to do? I still had things to finish and I didn't want to take them off even if they didn't fit. My dress was way too short for comfort and if I leaned over too much I was afraid someone could tell. I decided it was best to just deal with the droopy draws completely cognizant they might eventually slide all the way off beneath my hemline.

And that's just what happened mid stride.

Luckily, I was walking to my car to leave for the day. Had it not been for my fat girl thighs, I surely would have had my underwear around my ankles in public.

As if I needed to add anything else to my current list of shame, I now add losing underwear in public place without consent, adjacent to throwing up drunk in unmentionable places, and wearing no underwear for lack of doing laundry.

I am ashamed.