Workin it out...

I haven't been faithful to this journal.  No excuses, just... diet fatigue.

I'm sick of thinking about it, worrying about it and dealing with it.

I've, instead, been working on being me and right now that means being fat.

I'm making ok strides.  It's one step forward, two steps backward some days.

I was doing really good on the diet until my family (ie my mom and my sister) had a bbq.  It was downhill from there.

So I'm not watching what I eat.  I keep my eyes closed as I shovel it in.  It's easier to stay in denial that way.

BUT...

I've been establishing boundaries and I've been getting better rest and I think I'm fully out from my funk now.  I'm even motivated to do stuff in the kitchen (ie cook, ie why my diet is shot to hell), and take care of the house.  This is always a prime indicator I'm back to normal.

Whatever that means for me anyway.

And the diet is never far from my mind.

As a matter of fact I've actually been examining my options.

I got in touch with a former coworker via myspace (gotta love that place), and her pictures showed a big change from the last time I saw her.  She wasn't as big as I was, but she had some weight to lose. 

The photos showed she lost it.

I asked her what her secret was and she said that her boss had paid for her to go to a nutritionist and a personal trainer.  She said it took a long time, but with their help it was so much easier than it would have been.  She said she could understand why celebrities were stick people.

Since I've been going through diet fatigue, the thought of depending solely on other people for these types of decisions appealed to me.  I have steadfastly refused to pay for this journey because I can do this on my own.  While Jenny Craig, Nutrisystem, LA Weight Loss, gastric bypass and Weight Watchers are highly successful, my goal was to avoid spending money on things I needed to learn anyway.

The temptation is, now that I know how to do it, is to just get over this hump here by getting on a program to take care of the little details while I worked out all the emotional BS that goes along with it.

So I've been researching the different weight loss programs to see what fits, both emotionally, financially and practically.

Nutrisystem appeals because you just buy their food and that's it.  No program fees, etc.  I also know Nutrisystem works because I was on it back when I was about 15 and lost 36lbs in 6 weeks.  And I even cheated the program, and it still worked.

The drawback is that it's expensive.  It's a little under $8 a day for the food, and that's just for me.  I would have to eat separately from the family, which would throw their nutrition under the truck - and they don't need that.  I would feel restricted on whether I could go out or be involved in food related activities like family bbq's.

A less restrictive program (and cheaper) is Weight Watchers.  You pay to attend weekly meetings where you weigh in and find support in a group setting.

It's not for me.

I'm socially inept in the best of situtations.  Putting me in this kind of program would add extra stress and anxiety I don't need.  I feel it would be counter productive.

The last program to investigate is LA Weight Loss.  I believe it's cheaper even than Weight Watchers, and it's a one on one counseling.  I could probably use it.  If I understand correctly you have to pay the entire program cost at the onset, which is a higher payout initially - but overall it's a significant savings.

Plus I think it will be helpful to have someone I don't know weighing me in.  I think that will motivate me further to get back up when I fall down.

I'll go to a consultation to find out more. 

Of course, what I really need (motivation) I can't buy.  I've just gotta do it.

Knowing I can isn't enough.  Knowing I'm worth it isn't enough.

I just need to get of my tuckus and do it.

I think it's just time I ask for that hand up for once. 

Which, in itself, is a sign of growth. 

One step forward....

 

I done dood it.

I didn't write the other day.  I meant to, but...life happens.

Anyway I did go to therapy.  And as usual it wasn't as bad as I built it up in my mind to be.  The therapist is a woman and she seemed impressed with the insight that I brought to the session.  She also gave me permission to feel, and that was unexpected.

Before the session I filled out this paperwork where it asked me to specify some of the emotions that I have been having.  Anxiety.  Check.  Moodiness. Check.  Irritiabilty.  Check.  Depression.  Check. 

I think I checked off everything except hopelessness and suicidal tendencies.

Anyway she said that these don't hit us all at once, they can hit us all at the same time.  But that doesn't mean I have to deal with all of them at once.

We pinpointed that the main problem I have is anxiety, and it was because I'm just so overwhelmed with everything.

She also agreed that I should pursue medication.  But she warned that once the medication levels out my emotions, not to give up on the therapy.  She says that medication can only help so far.

She wanted to see me every week, but I can't afford that - even with the co-pay.  I compromised and said every two weeks (basically every payday). 

She also gave me an exercise to help my self esteem, which is really the root of everything - from the weight to my self destructing relationship tendencies.  To summarize, I just don't feel like I'm worth being happy or successful.

So she told me that every day I need to look in the mirror and verbalize out loud five things I appreciate about myself.  We talked about how confident I was when my dad was alive because he constantly boosted me up.  Once he died and that was gone, I probably didn't immediately buy into the negative messages that replaced what he told me right away.  It took time to change my self perspective.

Naturally, then, it will take time for this to work too.  She said I won't feel it right away, and she's right.  You all know I've attempted this type of exercise before, but gave up after a while because my feelings didn't change.

She said that even if I don't feel it, I need to do it.

That will be the hard part.

She also gave me a book to read called "Codependent No More".  The suggestion threw me because I never ever thought I was codependent.  I resisted that idea.  But the truth is I respond more to being needed than to being loved.  That was why Steven's new job threatened me so much.

If he didn't need me anymore, why would he stay?  Or more precisely, if he didn't need me, how then could I control whether he stayed or left?

And it's all about control for me.  I respond more to being needed because I can control whether or not someone needs me by what I do for them.  But love is a lot more elusive.  You can't earn it.  It is either given or it isn't, and that's in control of the other person.

So it looks like I'll be getting this book.  And not a moment too soon.

In other news, I don't think I'll be making it to the walk next month.  Our finances just aren't strong enough to justify the trip.  I feel really bad about it too, because so many people have given so generously.

So I decided I may not make it to Los Angeles, but I can walk here.  I'll spend that Saturday walking a 10km route here in town. 

Not only that but I want to try and match the donations given to me if at all possible.  I still believe in the cause, and that's what is most important anyway.

Therefore I will walk, just maybe not in West Hollywood with the rest of my crew.

It sucks, but what can you do?

I'm also going back to weighing in weekly.  I blew last week because I knew I had a month to go before I weighed in.  It's not keeping me honest. 

I'll just have to figure out a way to deal with the numbers as they come. 

In other words, I'm actually going to have to mean it when I say the numbers don't matter, and I'm more than just some numbers on a scale.

Therefore this journal will return to its true original intent.

A Journey to Me.

Fasten your seatbelts, y'all.  It's going to be a bumpy ride.

I don't wanna go.

I'm just going to be flat out honest.

I don't want to go to this therapy session today.

The thought scares the hell outta me.

This a real test of "feel the fear and do it anyway".

I.

Don't.

Wanna.

I'm not sure why it bothers me so much.  I guess that's a good topic for today.  Figure it out.  Deal with it.  Be honest about it. 

I know they're not there to judge me.  I know it's just my anxiety. 

Knowing and feeling are two very different things.

Right now I feel terrified. 

Seriously.

The only thing I can tell you is that I'm relatively certain I've been packing on weight to buffer me from the outside world.  To hide.

And here I am faced with the fact I can't hide anymore.

Emotionally, anyway.  I've made baby steps not to hide physically, but even that's iffy on some days.  Some days I'd be just as happy never leaving the house.

Today I get to do both, even when what I really want to do is blow it off. 

Or worse.  Put it off.

I hate this.

And did I mention I don't wanna do this?

Ugh.

Catching Up

I apologize for not writing.  I could make excuses but I won't.  I just have kinda fallen away again.

And it's completely silly considering. 

But good fodder for my first therapy session on Monday.

I have begun to recognize my defense mechanisms as they happen or even a bit before, so that's a positive I think.

Tuesday was a hard day, but I spent the first few hours not thinking about things.  I kept myself busy and didn't allow myself to feel or think anything.  My goal at the time was to get through what needed to be done, and taking time to grieve later.

Interestingly enough, during that first part of the day I was totally on track and didn't even think about falling off the wagon.  Normally I would have given myself the freedom to use food if I needed it, but that didn't occur to me until later...

When I started to grieve.

I wrote a blog on myspace in honor of Dan.  I was going to post two but by the time I got here I was out of words.  That song was the best I could do, I was too emotionally raw.

Anyway as I was writing the blog I was listening to The Best of the Stylistics, which is one of Dan's favorite albums.  The floodgates opened and there was no going back.

And after that happened, I started to get hungry.  I hadn't eaten any less than any other day, but I was physically hungry.  I started to wonder if my body is so conditioned to feed once it hurts that what I consider a phyiscal manifestation of hunger really comes from an emotional trigger instead.

Like I said, certainly something to discuss with the therapist.

Anyway, I ended up eating poorly that day, and I haven't been much better since. 

I'm back on track today though.  If nothing, time is improving my recovery time.  I'm able to bounce back just a little quicker each time.

So, I'll come back with a better entry later.  Meanwhile I have to get some stuff done before the high school football team tonight.  Timothy will be part of the Saber Team for tonight's half time performance.

I'll have pictures later of my handsome son in full uniform.

Hearing Dan.

When you're weary
Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all

I'm on your side

When times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

When you're down and out
When you're on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you

I'll take your part
When darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

Sail on Silver Girl,
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way

See how they shine
If you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind

Weigh In

I went to GNC this morning to weigh in and it said 298. 

It's a gain, but ... I'm not upset.

Isn't that wild?

I gained about 4lbs this month, but I'm not upset.

Mostly because I expected it to be over 300, and so seeing 298, so it *felt* like a gain.

But I know that the last month, this last week aside, I was back to using food - in abundance - to comfort me through that difficult time.  When I said I turned into the Girl Who Ate Abilene, I wasn't kidding.

So the fact that I *only* gained 4lbs was good news.

If I weren't back on track, then I would have probably been depressed.  Now it's more like, "Okay, so I slid a bit bit I'm still good.  I'm under 300, and I can keep the momentum going to lose even more."

I'll save the photos and stuff for next month.  I haven't lost any inches to speak of. 

So back to the gym and tackling the exercise next.

Right now I'm going to enjoy my *good* news on a pretty rough day.

God bless the heroes of 9-11.

Monthly Update postponed...

But only till tomorrow.

I had a more important appointment this morning.

Timothy was in our West Texas Fair & Rodeo parade with his ROTC unit. 

Needless to say, it took precidence.

It was a bittersweet morning.

Dan's loss was especially poignant today.

I figure that most milestones the kids go through will have that reaction.  When they graduate... get married... have kids... it's all going to be very bittersweet. 

I know he would have been as proud as I was.  Timothy is growing into a man - I am more keenly aware of that every single day.  When I dropped him off with the other kids, I caught sight of him in my rear view mirror, walking away all dressed up in his uniform.

I seriously broke down and cried. 

But I cried on his first day of kindergarden too.

I'm a big softy that way.

I managed to keep it together while he was marching in the parade.  I teared up but I figure I didn't embarrass him too badly.

You know, I have to admit.  I really didn't want him to join ROTC.  Dan joined the Army to please his dad, but it didn't go well.  He had a problem with authority, and military discipline isn't for everyone.  Figuring Timothy was his dad's son, I had my doubts.

But what really scared me was that I feared he was going to take the first few steps toward a military career.  The thought strikes fear in my heart.  Mostly because I have lost so many people in my life I really don't want to lose anyone else... and sending someone off to war is counterproductive to my plan. 

So I was resistant.  I never forbid him to do it, because I made the decision a long time ago that no matter what my kids decide to do I wasn't going to force my will on them.  They're going to do what they feel is right for them, and that's what they should do. 

I may not always agree with it, or like it, but I can't force my will on them.  Because they're not me.

The only thing I can do is love them unconditionally. 

So, even though I didn't like it, I didn't stop him from pursuing this.

I did, however, express my reservations.  I told him that I was not going to stop him from doing it, but I wasn't going to lie about how I felt about it either.

As he got involved with the program, I've watched my son transform.  He's passing all his classes, he's more polite, more responsible, more respectful. 

The other day I sat him down and I told him, "You need to mark your calendar as a red letter day, because I'm going to say something you're not going to hear from a whole lot of women in your life.  I was wrong."

I then went on to tell him how proud I am of him.  I think it was probably long overdue.

So watching the crowd applaud for him today was especially exciting for me.  Because I know how much he needed to hear it.  He even commented on it later and said that it was cool that people clapped or wooted at him.  I asked him how that made him feel.  He said, "I've been waiting to hear that for a long, long time."

Today was his day.

It was a good day.

And I believe that somehow, some way, Daniel was right there beside both of us, cheering, clapping and crying harder than anyone else.

A Day Late, but Mission Accomplished

I was pretty much useless yesterday.  I've been taking Nyquil for my cold and haven't been sleeping well.  Yesterday was yet another futile attempt. 

But when I got up yesterday (last night) I managed to get some work done overnight and then I waited till 8am so that I could make an appointment.

And I did.  My appointment is Sept. 19th. 

This particular place doesn't prescribe medication, they said I'd have to go to my regular doctor for that.

That'll be step number two.

So... I'm getting there.

I'm getting there.

I'm on track with eating, but still haven't managed the gym yet. 

Baby steps.

Baby steps.

 

A new day.

Yesterday's blog was a scary, scary thing for me.  It never used to be, but since probably the thing with Steven last year, I have left more and more unsaid.  This journal ended up losing its usefulness.  Which is why I haven't blogged nearly as much as I used to.

It is my goal to change that too.

I would like to clarify one thing though.  In all my bitching, I never outlined some of the positives.  Steven and I have some major core problems, but the one thing that we have managed to do through it all is communicate.  Sometimes it takes a big fight to do it, but we do communicate.  We both still love each other, I just think it's a matter of two wounded people trying to fix themselves by fixing each other. 

That doesn't work, by the way.

Steven has his self destructive things he does (namely the porn or gambling or lying) and so I hang in there because I don't think he's being malicious about it.  He's escaping from things in the same way I do.

We both "medicate", just with different things.  Oprah has said on her show that we end up involved with people who are meant to heal old wounds, and I believe that could very well be true.  It's true in this case.  And so we trudge through, as best we can.

And we do talk, we do try to find other ways to manage our marriage.  No one is signing the divorce papers yet and we're both equally at fault for the things that have gone wrong.

Even more positively, I think that we've come a long way from that couple who got together out of desperation and, in effect, escapism.

That being said, I came to an important revelation last night.

I was watching the season finale of Celebrity Fit Club 2 when it hit.  We all know that I'm a results type person, and if I went into something like this (which I have done on a very small scale in this blog) I would expect to lose weight as a barometer of success.

But watching these people and their struggle has helped me tremendously in seeing that sometimes the journey to lose weight isn't really about the weight at all.

Case in point: Willie Ames. 

Willie did not meet a lot of his weight loss targets or fitness goals, and in fact became very defensive and angry when called on these facts.  Needless to say his overall results fell short of the weight loss goals, and in fact he even gained weight during the last weigh in.

But I really don't see that he failed because he had to come to a place - emotionally - that helped him see that weight loss isn't about losing weight.

Sometimes you gotta fix the inside to change the outside.

I lose sight of that so much in my journey - and it's easy to do.  We live in a results society and clearly you can only truthfully see the changes on the scale and in your clothes.

I've suffered a lot of guilt that I have let everyone down in my journey because I have gained weight over all this time.  I have no excuses for doing it - I basically let myself down most of all.  I gave up.  There's no way around it.  I hang in there out of pride, hoping to con all of you the way I conned myself, but I had given up and grew complacent with the hard work I had done rather than do the really hard work that needed to be done.

Yet inside, I was doing a lot of work by focusing on something OTHER than the weight.  I wasn't losing weight, but mentally I was gearing up to make some massive emotional changes that needed to occur before I ever saw success on the scale.

What got in my way was me.  And this last year was my emotional journey to figure that out.

Last night I forgave myself for being so shortsighted.

This whole journey has been here to teach me something, and there's something to be learned from it all - even the times I've failed.

Especially the times I've failed.

That doesn't take me off the hook, I still am responsible for my weight.  But it gives me the peace of mind to move on and take the lessons - all the lessons - I've learned since I started.

Having said that, yesterday was my first day back on a regimented eating plan.  Eventually, as our money situation improves, I'll probably join something like Weight Watchers to combat a few other emotional hurdles I have yet to tackle. 

Number one on that list: I have a big problem asking for help.

No, you don't understand.  I have a HUGE problem asking for help.

This goes beyond the realm of "normal" pride.  This has become something that identifies me as a person.

It goes back to my family situation, as everything seems to do.  I want to do things totally on my own.  I'm used to doing things on my own, and that's the way I prefer it.  Mostly because depending on me, I can't get let down.  And if I don't need anyone, Iwon't be devastated if they left me unexpectantly.

As Dr. Phil would ask, "How's that working out for you?"

Generally, not too well.

So I gotta get over myself.  I gotta get out of my own way.

We've broached the therapy aspect before and I feel it's time to really look that in the face, unflinchingly.

The truth is, I'm scared of therapy.

If I could just go in, get some pills and leave - I'd have done it already.

I'm petrified of going into an office and confronting these demons face to face.

I think it may have something to do with the sexual abuse when I was a kid.  The reason being is that I have been in therapy before and eventually things go there, and that's when I bail.

I'm not sure if it's still the massive humiliation or guilt I feel for that, or what, but I cannot face someone, anyone, and talk about this stuff.

It's a lot easier for me to sit here and write this blog than it is for me to talk to anyone.  In my writing I'm my most honest.

In person, I'm a bit of a master manipulator myself.

I want to please my therapist, not fall apart and look weak and crazy.

Which is what I feel I will do if we open up some of these doors.

Is it stupid?  Of course it is.

But it's the reason I have avoided therapy like the plague.  I keep saying I will do it, but the fact of the matter - I'm too scared to actually go from talking about it to doing it.

My first real endeavor for therapy happened because my ex boss, yes that ex boss, thought I needed it.  So I went, even though I didn't buy into traditional psycho-therapy.  I found a Christian therapist, who happened to be a man.

I went several times, maybe about four or five, before we finally started to tap into sexual issues.

I stopped and never went back.

The second time I went for therapy (not medication, mind you, but therapy) was court ordered after my kids were taken away in 1998.  I avoided it and nearly lost my kids, making excuses to myself that I wasn't the one who really needed the therapy since Dan was the one who had the history with the kids.

I went to one, and that didn't work out because I felt like she was judging me.  She asked me some hard, uncomfortable questions so I bailed.

The next time I went to therapy I found a pretty decent woman who let me fall apart in her office on a weekly basis.  I kepttalking about these things - namely my ex boss - and nothing got any better.  After that therapy ended (on its own, because the kids were returned), I never went back.

I can't see putting myself through that kind of emotional torture when it didn't seem to help.

I can come here, for a lot less money, and do the same.

And I've figured out a lot doing that, the problem is there are some things that I don't know how to fix.  I know what's wrong, but knowing is only half the battle.  I need some tools to get over these mountains, rather than just looking at them fruitlessly with no way to climb them.

I'm not looking forward to finding a therapist to help me do that.

But it has to happen soon because I can't face 9-11 and the anniversary of Dan's death without some kind of anchor to sanity.  I just can't.  The first week or two I came home from Vegas were dark indeed.  Very dark.

Scary dark.

And of course, I'm not going to ask for help to do that, I'll figure out a way to do it on my own.

Because I'm stupid like that.

Don't correct me to be nice - not asking for help when you need it IS stupid.

The good news is I don't have to stay stupid.

I'll make an appointment tomorrow.

Feel the fear and do it anyway, right?

The Dam Bursts

In effort to be better at follow through, I feel a "cleansing" blog is in order.

It's not going to be pretty.  For anyone.

So I hope you have your waders on.

Ok.  In the past several months I've become a bit, self destructive.

The diet, forgeddaboutit.

I've turned into The Girl Who Ate Abilene.

Not only that but I've become the Girl Who Bought Abilene too.

If there's a vice, I've done it.  I've drunk a bit more than usual but for the most part I'm proud to say I haven't sunk into that pit.  And hopefully, with this newfound commitment of honesty, I won't.

As you may or may not know, Steven got a new job earlier this year selling cars.  He's doing well, really well.  It's shifted the balance of the money control of our house.

Before Steven found his niche, he didn't have a whole lot of luck with jobs and the major financial responsibility fell on me.  Which worked for a while because I was so busy hiding from myself I was working A LOT. 

All my money went to pay bills, and his money was more of "an allowance" that he got to spend freely.

I come from a family where the Mom worked and Dad stayed at home.  My first marriage with Dan followed this same pattern.  To me, money was my independence - and, unfortuantely - my control over the people in my life.

They couldn't leave me if they needed me.

So Steven's work habits, while they caused a lot of dissention for my family, didn't really bother me.

When the power shifted, I went through a phase of resentment and entitlement.  This lead to me doing what I wanted, when I wanted and letting the bills get taken care of by Steven.  There might have been something to my trying to drive him away because now that he controlled the money, I felt that he controlled me.  So I rebelled.

This comes from the fact that my mother was pretty controlling for the very same reason.  I remember being a kid and asking her for stuff and she'd say, "Oh, you don't need that".  This triggered the deprivation, which triggered some ugly nasty feelings.  Therefore I decided that I was going to make my own money and no one could tell me what I could do with it.

So I made my own money.  And, for a very long time, I made sure I was responsibile with it.  This worked through my marriage with Dan and up until I met Steven.  By the time Imet Steven I was a self destructive mess and I didn't quite care about the money.

Which was easy to do around Steven, since he was basically a free spirit who did what he wanted to do all the time.

And this worked out until one event that would shape our relationship and the power balance therein.

Steven has a bad habit of lying to me.  I don't say that to be mean to him, it's just a fact of life I've had to come to terms with. 

And I haven't really come to terms with it.  It still remains the biggest variable in our relationship that will probably end it one day if it doesn't stop.

We were living together by this point, in Gardena.  I gave Steven the money to pay the rent.  After being homeless, I can tell you that come hell or high water I will ALWAYS pay the rent.  Period.  Anyway, Steven made the very bad miscalcuation of taking that money to a casino and blowing it.

I don't think I've ever forgiven him for that, which has lead to my behavior in the recent months.

Pure and simple, it's been payback.

I've paid for him to play for six years, I get a few months to do what I want to do.

Plus there has been the ongoing problem with his extracurricular activity that he often lies about.  Gambling.  Pornography.  Those types of things.  So my chasing after my "emotional porn" in these celebrities who can't hurt me like Steven can was partially payback for that too.

It's not very grown up or mature, but that's the basis of it.

There are no excuses.  But this is full disclosure time, people.  And this is part of what I've been doing to self destruct and why.

My marriage has suffered greatly because of it.  Steven would make remarks about how bad he feels that this is the best job he has ever had and we don't have anything to show for it.  He makes passive aggressive remarks like that, that are effective, because deep down I do feel guilty that anyone has to support me. 

I would never make a good housewife.

And it's part of that guilt that makes me angry at him for needing him so much.

After the whole Hal thing I probably would have dropped the American Idol concerts.  I really thought I was pushing Fate a little too far. 

Turns out, I was right.

I went through with it mainly because I had spent money on the tickets and felt obligated since my sister wanted to go.  But when she decided she didn't want to make all six venues, I was thrilled.  I was just then pulling out of my self absorbed spending frenzy and truthfully I wanted to get rid of all the tickets but the Phoenix ones (front row center was just a little too tasty to get rid of).  We ended up straddled with three of the six venues we originally bought.

I pretty much decided it was my last hurrah.  I would go, enjoy it and then back to being the responsible Ginger we all know and love.

Unfortunately, I ended up face to face with two major emotional meltdowns that had me even wondering if I was going to stay at my job or stay in my marriage.

The first night I left town Steven tells me that he won't be home that night because he's going to help a friend of his move.  This struck a dishonest chord with me and I knew that he was lying.  I told him, "I think you're lying."  He swore up and down he was telling me the truth and launched into this huge story about everything to make his case.

That was night one of what I truthfully meant to be the last hurrah.  It went downhill from there.

Except for the night in Phoenix, that was very cool and worth the money I spent on it.  For someone who has hidden from life for years, I was right in the middle of it.  I'm not going to apologize for it. 

Vegas was a HUGE miscalculation on my part.  Like I suspected, that much time alone with my sister proved combustible.  She got her feelings slighted and we had a huge screaming fit in the Sahara buffet that almost lead to us getting kicked out.

Essentially, she accused me of trying to steal her company.  I put my phone number, along with hers, on the business card in the photo we gave to Constantine, and she - after a few kamakazis - turned to me and asked me if I planned to tell his mother I was the owner of the company if she called.

Which I would never, ever do, and the accusation offended me greatly.

I ended up having to apologize for my inconsideration not asking her to put my number alongside hers on the card, but she has never apologized for how she made me feel.  Nor will she.  I don't even know if she remembers the altercation.

I can't seem to forget it.

So I come home and I don't want anything to do with the person who, in effect, was my best friend.  Someone hurt me, I backed off.  That's how I operate.

I had to really, truthfully examine whether or not I was going to continue working for her.  What she did threw me back to my childhood when I was always playing catchup to impress her or my mom, and never succeeding.

If she could believe I would be so vile, then apparently she doesn't know me at all.

And I will never ever be anything more than someone on the outside looking in on my family.

Dealing with it has been a long, lonely process. 

And if that weren't bad enough, I caught Steven in his elaborate lie. 

Which made me even consider if I wanted to stay in my marriage.

After six years we can't escape from these behavior patterns.

Marriage therapy, yeah yeah yeah.  I doubt sincerely it will work considering Steven is a master manipulator. 

I just need to work things out on my own and deal with it from there.  If he's along, he's along.  If not, he's not.

I can't allow my mental health to hinge on other people anymore.

It's getting me no where.

But I haven't wanted to blog about Steven for a very long time because his family happens to read my blog.

My family doesn't, but his family does.

Ironic, isn't it?

Anyway, so I've spent the last few weeks angry.  Angry at myself.  At my sister.  At Steven.  Wondering if I need to just kick everyone out of my life to finally make a stand that I won't accept being lied to or disrespected.

I've come out of the other end of that deciding to keep my job, but keep my boundaries on how much I allow my sister into my personal life.

I'll stay in my marriage, but no more lies or else it will lead to a separation.

I've had to draw the line with the people I need in my life the most - and it has been a very, extremely scary thing to do.

I haven't blogged about it, because that's scarier.

So there you have it.  In a nutshell.  Emphasis on nut.

Now I'm going to submit this before I delete it.

Let the chips fall where they may.

Religion and Politics...

I've managed to broach both touchy topics in the space of two days, aren't I the smart one?

But, believe it or not, it's all tied to the evolution taking place inside, to help things on the outside.

I've been a people pleaser for a very long time.  It started with my family twenty five years ago when my dad died and I felt abandoned in the midst of people who, I felt, didn't care about me.  Thus began my journey to make them care.

It wasn't my responsibility to make them care, but that's the job I chose.

It's a scary, scary world when the only person you feel has your back leaves you.  And that's the way my family situation was.

I've talked about this a lot, so it's no news to the people who read my journal regularly.  Apparently, though, I'm still working it out.  Apparently, I still have a lot of hidden resentment and unresolved anger and I'm no longer willing to sit idly by and let things just collect inside of me like an emotional landfill.

That's why it's especially important for my mental health that, if I feel something, I talk about it.

And I've held my tongue for a really, really long time because I didn't want people to hear what I had to say and then not like me anymore.

It's all associated with the abandonment issue.

I feel like I have to work to earn friendship, loyalty, respect, love.  And that started when I was eleven.

Rewiring my brain to believe otherwise is a tremendous undertaking.

It doesn't help that I'm a pretty intense person.  People can feel attacked when I state an opinion, even if that wasn't my intention.  I think it comes from the fact I never felt I had a voice, so when I talk I yell just to be heard.

I have two decibles.  Silent and screaming.

I'm trying to find my moderation.  I know now I will not be able to do that without therapy and very probably medication.  It's just too much for one person to handle alone.

Last night I saw an ad for the Red Cross to help Hurricane Katrina victims, and they used the song "Bridge over Troubled Waters".  I was struck numb.  That's the song Daniel wanted us to play after he died, and for me, it's him talking to me from "the other side". 

I broke down and I cried, my heart so full of pain I thought it would burst into a million pieces.  I can't understand why, two years later, I'm still so devastated.

That's when it hit me.  I don't think it's only Dan.  I think it's everything, but I only feel the permission to ache over Dan.

So.

I'll work it out.  I'll get through it.  I always get through it.  I'm nothing if not resiliant.  Sometimes I feel like one of those boxing balloons that everytime you knock it down it just springs back up again. 

But.

In the meantime that means priority one is severing my need to please.  I'm going to rip the tape off my mouth and talk, and if that means I isolate or alienate then that's the choice I'm going to have to take.  I am never going to find my way out of my walls if I feel like being me isn't good enough. 

In that respect, I haven't been honest in this journal for far too long.  I have people who read this journal whose opinion of me really means a lot to me... family and friends and people whose kindness has been a "bridge" over troubled water.  I personally believe that my disease to please has been why my journey has been so hard to maintain.  I feel like I have to make excuses or hide the truth.

In short, I haven't felt good enough.

That was no fault of any reader.  That's my own insecurities and my own emotional baggage stored up for a long, long, LONG time.

Therefore my *real* resolve is to be honest and to be me, and to take the consequences of what that means.

That said, I remain unapologetic about yesterday's blog.  I felt a stab of guilt that I wasn't "doing enough" because I didn't have money to send or the ability to open up my home to people who needed it.  I've felt that guilt increasingly as the days have passed.

But today I just have resolved myself to the fact that everyone- from the poorest to the richest - can help where we are able.  I may not have a lot of money to give, but I sure do have a talent to give.  And with that talent, I'll rally help for the people who need it. 

In the meantime, I believe it's critical that we as a country demand an accounting from our country's leaders.  That is not to suggest it is not within our scope to help fill the gap, and I'm so glad we live in a country whose generosity and compassion is filled to overflowing so that, when the need arises, they jump into action to help their fellow man.

That's why I believe we live in the greatest country in the world.

Andit's for that reason we deserve the greatest leaders in the world.

They work for us, folks.  When they mess up, it's time to ask some hard questions. 

For those who can, please check out:

Sparks Nation--main 

for a list of charities to help the situation in the Gulf.

Love you all.

 

I am so heartbroken

It's a sad, sad day when a city in a country as great as America has devolved into nothing more than a police state.

Fires burn, unquelched.  People die in the streets, deprived of basic human necessities - this includes the elderly, infirmed and babies.

The police hang a sign on their precinct - Fort Apache - "under seige".  They wait out the storm.  Not the physical storm of Hurricane Katrina, but the storm that has followed.  The storm of Human Desperation.

Tourists were turned out into the street with no where to go, forced to survive the deadly streets where rescuers are being shot at, and anyone on the street becomes a potential victim to rape or even murder.

This is not some third world country.  These are our neighbors.  Our fellow man.

And I am seething with anger that our federal government has taken their time getting these desperate people the help they deserve.

A great American city was laid to ruins, and not simply because of a major hurricane.  Lack of planning, insufficient resources and poor prioritizing play a big part in this growing tragedy.

The Mayor of New Orleans has grown angry as he watches his city crash and burn around him.  Who can blame him?

Instead the responsibility falls on the shoulders of American citizens - corporations, charities and private citizens - who jumped into action to fill the gap left by the federal government.

I make no bones about the fact I never supported Bush for president.  I never supported him for Governor of Texas either.  I get painted with the "liberal democrat" brush pretty often, and that's okay by me.  Label away, I don't care.  I believe what I believe and I apologize for none of it - in the same way I don't apologize or justify my faith.

But this goes so far beyond partisan politics.

In 1999, when Hurricane Floyd headed toward Virginia and the Carolinas, President Clinton cut short a trip in New Zealand to orchestrate relief efforts ONE DAY BEFORE Hurricane Floyd - a Cat-3 storm - made landfall.

In 1992, while George Bush Sr. was busy campaigning, he cut short his efforts to rally support and rescue efforts for Hurricane Andrew.

In 2005 - as a Cat. 5 hurricane barrels toward the Delta - with decades of study under the belts of Washington bigwigs that New Orleans was particularly vulnerable to a catagory 3 hurricane, George W. Bush -

Was on vacation.

This is not a tsunami that struck out of the blue.  This is not a terrorist attack with little warning.  This was something that we *knew* was going to hit and we *knew* was going to cause widespread damage - especially to New Orleans.

What's especially disheartening to learn, is that ten years ago, after a flood killed 6 people in New Orleans, the federal government created a project called SELA - or Southeast Lousiana Urban Flood Control Project to help shore up levees and bulid pumping systems to protect New Orleans from at most a catagory 3 hurricane. 

That $750 million dollar Lake Ponchartrain and Vicinity Hurricane Protection Project was never completed.  The government knew that it wasn't completed.  The funds had been diverted due to tax cuts and the war in Iraq.  So our government KNEW that New Orleans wasn't adequately protected form a catagory 3 hurricane due to vulnerable levees that were supposed to protect the city.

Subsequently, a breech in a levee allowed the waters of Lake Ponchartrain to seep into this basin shaped city and create a state of chaos that is unfathomable in our modern United States.

Meanwhile - as a catagory 5 hurricane barrels toward the Crescent City - the president rode his bike.  Went to a birthday party.  Played guitar with a country singer.

Instead of rallying support to get those sandbags in place to help do what the incompleted levees couldn't, instead of sending what military troops we still have here to help keep the peace, instead of pulling together every possible resource to prevent this tragedy from becoming catastrophic...

Our president was on vacation.

Not even an hour ago, I was filling up the dog's water bowl and it struck me that there are thousands of desperate people in New Orleans who don't have water.

Imagine that.  They don't have water.

When you flush your commode, think about these people who don't even have that.

Think of the mothers who have had to separate from their children so at least the babies could be evacuated.  A woman gave birth to a baby in the street, the baby did not survive.

Life began and ended in the same moment, and there was no one there to help them.

Think about those angry, desperate people who may have survived the hurricane by the grace of God, but their country is allowing them to die in the street.

I don't know about you, but that is absolutely UNACCEPTIBLE to me.

When you're hungry, or thirsty, or injured, or sick, or hot, or all of the above, one hour is too long to wait.

We're now on day five.

There must be a reckoning.  There must be accountability.

Forget the polarizing topics like the war in Iraq, or abortion, or gay marriage.

Again, this is not about partisan politics.

This is about America.  This is about simple human compassion. 

This is about the most generous country in the world rendered helpless by an ineffective federal government.

Just what kind of message does THAT send to terrorists?

So Mr. President.  This is not time for a photo op.  Please save your rhetoric.  Please stifle your religious catch phrases.   

It's time to stop standing behind the Bible and to start practicing it.

God bless the people of New Orleans and the Delta.

How to help:

Sparks Nation--main

New Orleans

Every day the news grows more grim.  A city just spitting distance from being 300 years old has been devastated in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.  Thousands feared dead.  Thousands more wait without basic human necessities to be evacuated.

It's all so sad.

And it comes back to - "You Just Never Know".

I told Jeff as we waited for the hurricane to hit that if you lived in these regions you'd have to constantly keep an emergency savings in order to evacuate in these types of circumstances.  The harsh reality is that there were far too many people who did not have the money to do so and were forced to wait out the storm.

Katrina was unforgiving.

I think what disturbs me the most is that there are groups of individuals who want to lay blame for this type of natural disaster.

I've read that some Jihad groups have claimed responsibility.  I've read that some religious groups have blamed the fact that there are abortion clinics or that New Orleans catered to gay tourism for their devastation.

It's amazing how, in the hands of some, god has become a twisted deviant who lies.

Because in the Bible *I* read, God is a loving father.  In fact, Jesus says that if we, as human parents, would do so much for our children, how much more would God do for his?

I know, that no matter what my children do, I would never send this type of "punishment" - this utter destruction and chaos - to "teach them a lesson".

What, then, would be the point of Jesus dying for our sins, if God is just going to punish us for it anyway?

I don't understand how a person can look at the same pictures I'm looking at and feel anything other than compassion.  Especially those who label themselves as "Christian" - or Christ-like. 

It doesn't resemble anything I've seen of Jesus in the Bible I read. 

Perhaps I got a special edition.

Because in my Bible it says that the one who seeks to kill, steal and destroy is the complete OPPOSITE of God, and that Jesus came to give life and that more abundantly.

God was not the force of the hurricane.

God is the miracles of lives spared, and the scope of human kindness as the world reaches out to the poor people who have lost almost everything.

Like Jesse Duplantis (a New Orleans based preacher spared by Katrina, thank God) says, "The only Jesus some people will ever see, is the Jesus in you and the Jesus in me."

So What Would Jesus Do?

Well, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be judgmental, sitting on his haunches and blaming the sin of the city for the wrath of Hurricane Katrina.

No.  My Jesus would be in the midst of the suffering, offering love and healing to those which need it, saving his contempt for the pious religious leaders who sneer down their noses at anyone they don't approve of.

Isaiah 53
 3 He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. 4 Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. 5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes we are healed.