erring on the side of suspicious

i have this terrible habit of reading between the lines. so nothing can ever be just as it seems. this job has made me so suspicious of everyone. are you a nice(never been married) man who volunteers his off time to mentor young men(and sometimes have them come live with you)? or are you creepy? are you really passionate and launch into 10 minute spiels that have nothing to do with what we were actually talking about? or are you possibly on coke?

i feel like i’m required to give everyone the hairy eyeball just in case. because god forbid they actually do turn out to be creepy and coked up. in retrospect people would say “didn’t you see the signs?” when it could’ve just as easily gone the other way. it’s sad that he could just be a passionate, kind, giving man and those same characteristics make him suspect.

building a net

i’m so far out there today. I can’t rub my eyes,shake my head and make the fuzziness go away. it’s not just a sleepiness thing, although i am mighty tired. i just feel distant. absolutely disconnected. i think it’s a defense mechanism. something that my body and brain are doing that i have no say in. everytime i try to think about what’s going on, everything just blurs out of focus. if i could concentrate long enough to grasp the reality of this place, the heaviness would be too much. all sense would fly out the door and so would i. paycheck be damned. but we live in this world. the world of rent,bills and insurance. i cannot leap without the next net firmly in place.

bummed

i want to be an art therapist. right now. or at the very least i want to paint with my boys and make cool stuff out of random things. i’m tired of feeling ineffective and watching them fight because they’re bored. i know they fight for other reasons too but the boredom plays a big factor. i’m amazed at how many of them tell me that they need a job or something to do with their hands. they know that they need to be kept busy and we’re doing nothing to help. idle hands…
the fighting is wearing me down. i have become accustomed to it. my spirit drops into my shoes and my stride slows. i just feel heavy and dejected. case management just feels like bullshit sometimes. like i’ve pulled up a chair alongside an unfolding drama. and take notes. NOTES?! what the hell is that going to do? certainly not change anything. not make anything better. it just proves you were there. and that you did nothing.

Ne te quaesiveris extra

That curious latin phrase at beginning of emerson’s “self reliance”. it translates into “do not seek outside yourself” or “seek nothing outside yourself”. it has been my mantra lately in everything from my work life to my personal life.
do not seek worth outside yourself(from other people’s approval)
do not seek satisfaction outside yourself(from material possessions)
do things because YOU enjoy them or think them valuable.
say things because YOU think them.
if you enjoy it,it is good. no explanation necessary.
if you think it valuable,then it is so.
your thoughts are worthwhile all in their own.
ain’t that a novel idea?

purging

i’m purging myself of the snark. the negativity. the rudeness, the lack of consideration, the hurt feelings. the small mindedness, the pettiness,the gossip. hmm, let’s see… have i left anything out? human nature can get so ugly, so reminicent of freshly chummed shark water. and i get to the point that i can’t take it. i can’t just look away,ignore it,only see the good. i have to cut it out completely. i am sensitive. too sensitive maybe. but after 27 years i have learned my limits and i know what works for me. it feels good to say “no more”. i recognize these things as more than just irritations. they are harmful to me. they make me feel heavy and sick.

i will let go. say “no thanks” and “goodbye”. the breaths i take will be deep,clean and easy. isn’t it just like the springtime to make you realize it’s time to shed your skin again?

que cera

i stopped fighting it. everything. i have a tendency to get very fired up over things that aren’t fair. the general unfairness of the world. i focus on it and throw futile energy at it. i guess this is part of my nature and why i’m called to the social services. perceived injustices and what not. while it is a good thing professionally, this drive to right the wrongs is hell on the nerves.

a few days ago another injustice flared up in my face and i did my usual anger,sadness,depression,etc. i wracked my brain for ways to fix this or at least make it better. i finally came to the conclusion that there was nothing i could do. NOTHING I COULD DO. what a helpless position to be in. what a liberating position to be in. there was nothing i could do. i could stop trying. what do the alcoholics say? let go and let god. my whole body relaxed as i realized i could stop fighting and focus my energy on the things that mattered. things are going to come up. problems will arise. and i will deal with them as they do. to the best of my ability. but i cannot do anything beyond that.

God, grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change;

The courage to change the things that I can;

And the wisdom to know the difference.

channeling grandpa

i am becoming my grandfather. or at least finding a connection and an understanding  that i never had when he was alive. this connection goes much deeper than your typical grandpa/granddaughter love. it is so much more than having his wit and dry sense of humor. it is…the weather channel.

we used to make fun of him for it(in the nicest way possible). the weather channel was omnipresent. anytime we visited my grandparents we could count on two things: the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen and the smooth jazzy refrain of the five day forecast. i thought it was the most boring,lamest, most old person-est thing in the world. how in the hell could you watch the same thing hour after hour? let alone THE WEATHER?! but these days i am finding a strange comfort in it. kahlil gibran says:

“You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons,
and to step out of life’s procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.”

i have become a stranger to the seasons. i sat oblivious in my cocoon as the leaves began to change and fall. everyone moved forward and i sat stagnate and immobile. i have nothing to contribute to conversations that does not have to do with what i have seen on tv or read on the internet. that tenuous thread connecting me to the outside world has been worn to almost nothing. ah but there is that one topic of conversation that has been connecting human to human for thousands of years. the go-to ice breaker. the most surface of exchange: the weather. if it’s raining, if it’s sunny- this is a shared experience. i am not alone. i am joining in. it is common ground and for three minutes of conversation we are connected. i have found myself reaching out to friends i have known for over a decade with words that are fit for an acquaintance in an elevator. “Might snow today.” “it’s supposed to be pretty tomorrow.” i feel the lameness in these words.i find myself marching out of rhythm and just desperately trying to keep a foot in life’s procession.

chapter 3

(this is something i wrote last june, shortly before james returned from his last deployment. i remember feeling this way and would love to reconnect with it. i believe the key is getting back into some form of creative expression.)

i am slowly becoming aware of a feeling that has begn to settle on me like a warm blanket. the feeling of being ok. getting comfortable in my own skin. this is the first time in my life that i can recall tiny bits of peace when thinking about my past. it always used to be sadness,regret,longing. but now i have moments where a smell will send my heart soaring back into my 10 year old body. and it feels ok. no, it feels good.

it seems i spent the first 12 or so years of my life living(dreaming?) then the next 12 or so being very lost and longing for the security of bygone days. and looking to the future for some way up and out. building my identity. trying on and discarding different faces. feeling like an impostor. apologizing to little girl me. well now i feel like the big sister or aunt to that lost 15,17,20 year old- telling her “hey it’s ok. go easy on yourself. you haven’t failed anyone. you’re turning out ok, it’s just taking longer than you expected.”

i don’t know if it’s the age that i’m at or the time that i’ve had with james gone to write and paint and think, or possibly even the job ive had where i get to express myself creatively and teach others to do the same. probably some combination of all of the above. i definitely think a big factor of settling into yourself is expressing yourself creatively. it is that connection to the child in you. finding out she is still there and you haven’t dissapointed her afterall. finding your authentic self, your groove, your niche-whatever you want to call it- is trial and error. it has to be that way. you have to fail over and over again. broken down and beaten up. i think that sums up the years from about 15-20. i wasn’t being very true to myself and i felt the effects. at the end of that period i met james and began to rebuild. there were some tough times in there too though. but we weathered that storm and emerged stronger.

so i feel like i am beginning a new chapter. you expect new chapters to begin on nice neat numbers like 25 or 30. this one appears to be beginning at 26. but i believe it has been in the works for a few months. i feel so strongly about this that it feels like everything before was a test, a dress rehearsal, a trial run. but now, 26 years in, your real life has begun. this is not a throwing away and starting over type of beginning. i know that i got here because of the dreams of a small girl and the trials anf failures of a young woman. i owe alot to that chick. she went through hell to get me here.

frozen and perfect

i had to find my birth certificate today for some paperwork that i was filling out. i was digging through my baby book and found myself suddenly on an odd quest for answers. i pawed through the pages of milestone descriptions and class photos. my mom wrote things like “self assured” and “determined” to describe me.

i searched my face in 8×10 school pictures. what i was looking for i’m not quite sure. i just felt like there was some secret lying beneath the surface. i stared like it was one of those 3d pictures and instead of a sailboat or a dinosaur some elusive,fundamental part of myself would be revealed. needless to say, no such luck. all i saw was wonky hair, imperfect teeth and large, scared eyes.

i’ve always been a nostalgia bug(dubbed as such by a friend’s mother in 6th grade). more than anything looking through these pictures made me feel the way i felt when i looked through them when i was younger. we had a large cabinet that contained box after box, book after book spilling over with photos. going through them was one of my favorite things to do. while other kids would spend their spring breaks outdoors or going to sports camps, i prefered to spend hours pouring over family photos. the same ones that i had looked at a thousand times before. even then i think i sought answers. what i received instead was comfort. i don’t know why these sessions comforted me. perhaps it was the feeling of being a part of something. of belonging SOMEWHERE. i would lose myself in those moments. for two hours i was fully immersed in the warm hazy world of memories. i loved the pictures i was in. i loved the pictures i wasn’t in. i loved the pictures of days and fashion gone by.

i once had a dream about the house we moved out of when i was three years old. i have very few memories from that house and am sketchy about even the layout. in my dream i stepped inside a photo of the house. i walked from room to room seeing them just as they were in 1986, red-orange carpet and all. it was the most fantastic feeling. it was the feeling of a moment frozen in time. this is what i remember loving about graceland. we visited when i was 15 and i was in heaven. i didn’t care about the jumpsuits or the cars. what i remember was the carpeted kitchen and the ashtrays still containing cigarette butts. it was as if i found a magic rip in time and stepped back into 1973, frozen and perfect.

maybe that’s what it’s all about. frozen and perfect. i don’t deal well with change. i never have. but when i look at those pictures everything is the same again. just as it was. just as it should be. and i can pretend, if just for a moment that i am there.

year in review

i feel like i have lived eight lifetimes this year. i was shocked to realize that we’ve only been back home for a little over 4 months. is that all it’s been?! did james really return from deployment just this past july? which means he left this past january.

in this one short year i bid my husband a 7 month farewell. then hello again. then farewell forever to the navy. to the northwest. to my job. to the kids that i loved. to my friends and their naughty parties. i left the familiar drive to work.through trees, past mountains and over bridges.i left the friendly people at the grocery store. the hours spent at the craft store trying not to be so lonely. the cast of characters that were my neighbors- the sweet lady across the hall who could regularly be heard sobbing loudly. the rednecks that lived below us that often had more tenants and trucks(often broken down. or sporting a 2×4 for a bumper) than there were parking spaces available. the large unpleasant black man with his large unpleasant black cat. the gay cowboy who could often be seen through his living room window sitting next to his sewing machine cleaning his rifles.

another farewell i have bid this year is the life of drinking,dancing and staying up late. apparently somewhere on that cross country move we picked up another passenger(we think somewhere near texas). not that i will never drink or dance again and i certainly know that my days of sleep are limited. it’s just…it will be different. our lifestyles will shift and nothing will ever be the same.

i can’t wait for 2010. i have nothing but the highest hopes. i like the idea of a blank slate, of beginning anew. i go into the year carrying an obvious reminder of the year gone by. but it is a hopeful reminder. a seed germinating into all the possibility of the year(s) to come.