Quite Happy Today

I am quite happy today, and I'm hoping that it isn't the manic state before depression.

The reason I'm happy is that I thought my husband had gotten a crappy job. But, as it turns out, it isn't.

He works for an extended health care insurance company, and naturally, the benefits are so good that even sound ridiculous. As a fibromyalgia sufferer, I couldn't wish for more. I can go to physiotherapy everyday if I want to, and massage, acupuncture, counselling, naturopath, and medication have no-limit or a very high one, and we get a 100% refund. As I said, it's incredible. So I am in a party mood.

His job is unionized and he gets Christmas eve day off. Never heard of that one before. I thought the pension plan days were over, but he's lucky enough to get that. Ah, and he only works seven hours a day. Geez!

The starting salary seems a bit low, but he will get a 10% raise spread over the next two years, every six months.

The job is in many ways better than the one he lost, and that I thought impossible.

Anyway, those are very good reasons to be happy. My aches and pains have dimmed in the last couple of days, and I'm not surprised. The pressure for me to find work is gone, and I can now apply only for jobs I really want. I'm sure that just knowing that things have majorly improved for us all of a sudden will make feel much, so much better.

So yes, this is a good day.

Anger and Depression

I've been depressed for the last few days, and it has nothing to do with our finances. My husband was able to make a lot of money working as a contractor for a few weeks, and now he's back on unemployment insurance.

He has sent five resumes and has had four interviews. The last one, today, was at the place where he worked as a contractor.

His success should make me happy, but it doesn't. Because I have sent upwards of 40 resumes, had one interview, and no job.

I'm depressed for several reasons. One is the realization that in order to work again, I'm going to have to update my IT skills and look for work in IT where, apparently, I belong. I never sent more than 20 resumes to get a job in IT. But it seems like I will have to send 1000 to get a $10/hour job.

I'm also depressed because the agency that's supposed to be helping me recently changed the placement worker, and the knew one is a clueless newly graduate that lives in her own little world. I don't want to elaborate, but she is making me very angry.

She calls all excited about some job she saw advertised and tries to convince me to apply as if were a sure thing that I'll get the effing job, conveniently forgetting that I will have to compete with the other 400 applicants. She doesn't have to convince me that the jobs are good. She has to help me get one.

So, yeah, I have been feeling down for a couple of days. Which is probably partially hormonal and partially normal for a job seeker. I started feeling better today. I had knew ideas as to how to go about my job search and decided to start again. Leave it to the placement worker to make me angry all over again with a stupid phone call.

It is so good to admit that I am angry. I feel the pressure released from my belly. I will exercise, then have lunch, and then see if I can go play with my nephew.

Dragging my feet

Wow! I think I’ve overdone it. With workshops, plans, and this and that, I’ve managed to bring my system to a halt. I feel like doing nothing, and that’s not good. Usually, depression follows that.

At least I haven’t forsaken daily exercise. Good thing, because it is my lifeline, my one survival tool.

I will push myself a little today, though. I have the feeling that an unfinished task may be causing me to drag my feet. If after that I still feel I need a break, I’ll take it.

Or maybe it’s physical. Last night I went to bed at 9 pm. I had a half-decent night’s sleep, and when my alarm clock went off at 8:30 am, I wanted to sleep more. That isn’t normal.

Here’s is hoping that I’ll feel better later.

Sick but still working on back-to-the-workforce plan

So I am sick again. I’ve been sick since Wednesday, and I can’t help but remember that the last time I was ill, it was in October, when I was about to start my job search. Then the illness set me back, and I put the job search on the back burner for a while.

Why do I get sick every time I start looking for work? I don’t know, but I have a few theories.

1. When I get busy, I start eating all the wrong foods, and the food intolerances make my ongoing issues flare up.


2. It is possible that subconsciously my body sees “work” as a threat to the status quo and that all kinds of stress-related hormones are released, burdening my immune system.


3. My immune system is no longer used to the common viruses that hang out there, since I rarely get out and meet people. So I’m an easy target.

Most likely, it is all of the above. But I’ve decided that nothing will hinder me. I am getting out there, and I am going to find a job. It is business as usual.

This week, I took a job interview questions class and an interpersonal relationships class. Next week I’ll take assertiveness. Interestingly enough, some of those courses are at 9 am, and are sparingly attended. In fact, one of my classes was a one-on-one. I felt so lucky. I sat there with the employment counsellor for two hours, and we discussed the most difficult issues I tend to have with people, and we devised some strategies to address my concerns. I would’ve had to pay over $200 to get that type of service.

So the work is going. Let’s hope that I’ll get a job in May.

Back to the workforce process

I told the employment counsellor, on Friday, that I want a job easy to do that will keep me constantly busy.

I explained that even though I have the brain for computer programming, that the profession isn’t suitable for a person like me who tends to depression. Certain software features are so difficult to create or troubleshoot, that it takes from hours to days to find a solution. In the meantime, you sit there staring at the screen trying to stimulate your brain to come up with a solution. I find that excruciating. I always find a solution, but I’d rather do something which provides smaller, more frequent rewards.

The other issue with me is stress. My former profession was highly stressful. I not only had to write extremely complex code, but I had to deal with users, co-workers, bosses, and project managers, while trying to deliver on tight deadliness. I have PTSD from all that, and even though I loved the paycheque, the traveling, and the staying at four star hotels, my body can’t handle it.

If I’m going to go from doing not much for the last few years, I don’t want to go back to a high stress job where I have to constantly prove myself. So I told the employment counsellor that I wanted to find a job in office administration. She said my goal was realistic and that we would work toward it.

I am so happy I landed at that agency by mistake. I was telling my husband that I always knew deep down inside that I was different, and that I needed specialized help. I reminded him that when people in church urged me to do things a certain way, I would usually say, “People can’t see my invisible wheelchair. I can’t do what they do or behave like they do.”

I finally found a place where my “invisible wheelchair” is being acknowledged, and I couldn’t be happier. How is this different from being aided by an agency for “normal people?”

Normal people are encouraged to live up to their potential, to seek high paying jobs, to climb the corporate ladder. That doesn’t appeal to me. For me just functioning and getting along with co-workers at any job will be an improvement over my previous workplace experiences.

So this week, I’ll attend a number or workshops, the firs of them will be resume making. The challenge for the worker will be to downgrade my resume, to make by high-tech jobs blend in or disappear. But thankfully, since the person has been trained on working with people like yours truly, she may have an idea or two on how to tweak my work experience. I can always hope!

The caseworker was saying that employment at a non-profit would be a good fit for me, because I can offer so much, other than just filling, typing, and answering phones. How I go about the job search will be dealt with in the first week of May, when I meet the placement worker.

In the meantime, I will be taking other workshops, like stress management, dealing with difficult people, and first-day-at-work instruction.

Wish me luck!

What is it that I need?

I often wonder why, when people try to comfort me, they rarely achieve their purpose. The reality is that, even though everybody means well, the way they try to soothe my pain is usually not the way to go with me.

Let me explain. Most women like to offer sympathy in the way of a hug, which is fine. I don’t hate hugs. Guys, on the other hand, like to help me find a solution, which is fine. Ideas are always welcomed.

I do appreciate the effort pals and gals put into trying to help. But although it isn’t a contest, some people come out as winners when it comes to cheering me up. I think I’ve figured out what it is that they do right.

I like it when friends get me. Why is that so hard to find? I don’t know. But it is. Most friends dish out the unsolicited advice, or tell you exactly what they think you should do, or just hug you and walk away.

But when they make the effort to get inside my head and figure out what I’m thinking and why, that makes me want to break out in song. Then I go, “Yes, yes,” like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.

I truly believe that most of us want to be understood. We don’t need to be given instructions or to be pitied. We need to be understood. At least I do.

If people don’t get me, that’s OK. I have a hard time with that one myself. But if friends would at least ask questions to help me figure out my conundrums, or just tell me something wise to make me think in the right direction, I’ll find that more helpful than a hug. Maybe hugs is what other women want, but that isn’t the case with this tomboy.

Anyway, this post is about me understanding me. If anybody ever asks how they can comfort me, I will know exactly what to say.

Depression, Menopause & Career

I was just talking to my husband about the depression that has haunted me my entire life. Until recently, I ignored my lifelong affliction. But I can tell looking back that it has always been an issue.

For a while I called it ADD, because I used to stop mid-step and become immobilized while thinking of some memory. I was so unaware of it, that I rarely mentioned it to a doctor or to a psychologist.

But in recent days, I’ve become convinced that it was pure, unadulterated depression. It may sound “funny,” but in that regard I may be doing better than ever. My enjoyment of life and my ability to be in-the-moment have increased dramatically.

I was telling him that I NEED TO WORK for more than just financial reasons. It is mostly due to health issues, both depression and menopause (which is causing me to gain more weight).

If it isn’t, it should be common knowledge by now that serotonin plays a major role in depression. But serotonin can be produced by our bodies, and exercise is a great way to get it incredibly fast.

It is no wonder that when we travel and walk about 10 kilometres a day I am so balanced and reasonably happy. It is the business, the doing, the movement that helps my mood, by producing the hormones my body needs.

Sitting around the house hardly ever going anywhere is not conducive to a good mood for a person in my situation. So, I was telling my husband that, first of all, I need a job, any job. Second, if possible, I need a job that will keep me moving. Walking around all day would be ideal. It would help me lose weight and it would help me maintain my mood. It would be a drug of sorts.

But it so happens that I have 6 years of post-secondary education in Computers and about 15 years of work experience in the field. Computer geek is written all over my face, and other than three years of experience working in an office doing secretarial work, I have nothing else in my bag of tricks.

My husband says that I should still try to find a job in the computer/office field. I can, he says, then hire a personal trainer that will keep me active, moving, and hire a cleaning person to do the work around the house.

For some reason I don’t find that too appealing, even though that may be what I end up doing. I am thinking that, perhaps, working as a tour guide or in a bakery or even retail would accomplish both, the exercise and the getting me out there, while making me a couple of bucks.

I don’t know if the employment counsellor, with whom I have an appointment this week, will have any ideas in that regard. But given my track record with employment counsellors who haven’t understood me, I feel compelled to lower my expectations, to give the relationship a change to succeed.

I’m also thinking that a part-time job would be ideal. Perhaps easing back into the workforce would be best. Especially, if I get a job that requires walking, since I would be tired at the beginning, another good thing, since I have trouble sleeping (like all other menopausal women).

Anyway, I must admit that trying to choose my next “career” is haunting me of late. It just occurred to me, thought, that whatever I choose does not have to be permanent. It seems that I’m treating the choice as the ultimate live-or-die decision, which it isn’t. I will have to mull over this, to see what I can do to lower the pressure. I’m sure dealing with this issue will make me feel a lot better.

Depressed

Have you ever been depressed for no reason at all?

I guess it happens when women have PMS. I'm going to assume that women in menopause still get a period of sorts, even if we don't get actual menses. I have the blues and no period on sight. It really sucks. I think the issues are periodical because I also have breast pain and uterine stuff, a little stronger than usual. This menopause crap feels like permanent PMS--ninety whole days of it. I wonder if the other 275 days will also be like this.

I think this is the first time ever that I feel the weight of depression, and I can tell it really isn't psychological at all. It seems to be mostly a physical symptom over which I have no power.

I have no feelings of doom or anything like that. I am not having strong negative feelings about anyone in particular. I am in need of nothing. The sun is shinning out there.

But I don't want to do anything. All I want is to lie in bed with the blinds down and forget that I exist. Basically, it feels like laziness, a lack of desire to do anything. I don't want to think of my impending job search, or of his job search, or of having to go back to the workforce, or of what to make for supper, or of the messy house, or anything. I want to do nothing.

I swear on days like this I wish I had anti-depressants around. But, if I'm still feeling like this by Monday, I am hitting the doctor's office. Enough is enough.

For now, I will force myself to clean the house a little. Seeing the house looking better may be helpful.

A weekend with the in-laws

After almost three years, I visited the in-laws this past weekend. It was an exercise on learning how to deal with disagreeable situations and not taking the stuff personally.

I did really well. I was able to show compassion for my MIL’s shortcomings. By telling myself that what she did and said reflected who she was and what she saw, not me, I was able to shield myself from her. She was trying very hard to behave, mind you.

Once I took myself out of the picture and observed her for who she is, I started understanding the woman. It was amazing. It was like seeing the play by play in slow motion and seeing the workings of her mind and those parts of her behaviour that I find so annoying.

I found out that the whole time she was trying to be pleasing, agreeable, and loving. She has no idea that the final result is annoyance. I realized that she talks non-stop out of pure inadequacy, and the more she talks, the more she puts her foot in her mouth. I was able to just listen, observe, and analyze: a very interesting exercise.

What we did, most of the time, was to use preemptive measures. I brought the baking, so she didn’t have an excuse to kill herself baking for us. I cooked more than half the food, to stop her from going around complaining. But by the third day, this morning, she’d decided to take her place in the kitchen.

From the moment we woke up, she started offering food, and more food, and juice, and cookies, and water, and more cookies. When my husband and I started lining her cupboards, a project her husband had been procrastinating, she kept offering scissors, a knife, this and that, non-stop. Then I went completely silent and decided that I’d had it. It was time to go. Three days was my limit, as planned.

The problem was her hip issues. When she walks she constantly says “ouch,” every two seconds or so. But she comes to you with questions like, “Do you want the bigger cutting mat? No? Are you sure? I can get it? It’s bigger. It will make it easier. It’s no problem. I can just go get it.”

When you finally cave in and say yes, then she starts her slow, painful walk downstairs. You can see her slow, clumsy movements, and you can hear her, “Ouch…ouch…ahhh…ouch…”

Yes, I did well. But it was time to go. Actually, when I remember, I kind of feel like throwing up. But I did it. I didn’t say, “I can do that. There is no need for you to bother. I’m an adult, you know. I can help myself.”

Why wasn’t that a good idea? Because I tried it before. Then she cried her eyes out, and continued her futile quest to be liked by doing sacrificial, unnecessary deeds. So it is a waste of time. Better let her do whatever she likes. After all, it is her house. Who am I to come and set rules for her?

Erasing negative memories

That book I read, The Power Within You, is the best motivational book I've ever read. I learned very much in it regarding how success comes about.

One of the addressed issues was how to change our longtime negative thoughts, so they don't affect our present anymore. He said that what we need to do is to re-live the situation we've failed at in the past and mentally do the right thing.

For example, I remember becoming very upset once, when a Chinese co-worker said to me that I should exercise at lunchtime everyday, to lose weight. And to make her argument more persuasive she added the name of her best friend who was skinny. "You should. Julie exercises at lunch everyday."

This girl, Julie, thought she was beautiful and smart and the apple of everyone's eye. Apparently, she was beautiful by Chinese standards. All the other Chinese in the office looked up to her, as if she'd been god.

So when her friend told me to lose weight to be like Julie, I must have gone completely red, then I grimaced, and waiving my hands said sharply, "Why would I want to be like Julie? I have everything that I can ever want in life. I don't need to be like Julie."

Of course, her majesty was told of the incident. All the Chinese heard about it, and my over-reaction went into my repertoire of temper blow-ups that everyone knew of.

I've been thinking in recent days that I should have reacted hypocritically. I should have said, "Interesting idea, Sandy. Thank you for your concern."

Then I should have gone to the bathroom to have a fit, all by myself. My problem is that I tell the truth, and people don't appreciate it. The truth is a gift they don't want. So I need to be as fake and hypocritical as they are, and experience my anger in private.

And to learn how to do that, I will, in the next few weeks, go out there and put myself in situations I've been avoiding like the pest, so I can practice.

Yesterday, I tried to go to a CODA meeting, and I couldn't find the address. That's a place where I can really practice, telling the co-dependents that I appreciate their help and then leaving the scene in a hurry.

This Easter weekend I'm facing my in-laws. That should be interesting. I can just hope that I won't be boiling over in anger for weeks to come. Let's see how it goes.

The "Beloved" Sister

Visiting my sister, once or twice a week, is an interesting exercise. The poor woman is out-in-the-left-field when it comes to people's skills.

It is sad that she is so mean and self-righteous. But sadder yet is that she's clueless about it. When a person is so sure that being rude and controlling is a good thing, what hope is there for them?

The only reason I visit her, occasionally, between my nephew's naps and feedings, is because of him. Because of her too, the day may come when she needs to leave the baby with me, due to an emergency, and I don't want him to see me as a complete stranger.

He's an adorable, smiley, agreeable baby. As soon as I get to his house, he starts playing with me. When I leave he looks very serious. I wouldn't be surprised if he shed a few tears for me.

His mother is a nightmare to be around of. She has always been very good at minimizing me, but I've been ignoring her lately. It's easy to do that when there is a smiley baby trying to get your attention.


She is also educational for me to watch, as she is extremely similar to my mother. That aspect of me that I call the "fight or flight" response is one of our mother's traits. It has to do with black-or-whiteness.

That is, in Mother's mind, people expect perfection and nothing less. Apparently, in her mind, people will think she is horrible, lazy, uncaring, and lord knows what else, if the food is less than perfect, if her attire is below the highest standards, if she is late by a second, if instructions are loosely followed, as opposed to to the letter.

All that causes Mother to label even meaningless situations as emergencies. Even going to the mall wearing non-matching pieces of clothing seems to be unacceptable. Yes, she gave me all that. No wonder I've carried so much stress on my shoulders during my lifetime. I've been trying to create perfection and expecting to be rewarded for my efforts.

I never did manage to create perfection because such utopia is in the eye of the beholder. I got little praise along the way, because unbeknownst to me, the only area where perfection was required was where I wasn't even trying: being easy to get along with and agreeable.

So I look at my sister trying to impress me with her perfect timing for the baby. He eats exactly every three hours, even if she has to wake him up. And I'm supposed to be quite impressed by that. She cooks him food from recipes followed meticulously. She dresses him in expensive clothes in matching colours.

All along I'm thinking, who the heck cares if the baby eats on schedule to the second? Isn't that teaching him intolerance? Won't he for the rest of his life be demanding that people be timely on their dealings with him?

Aren't babies in underdeveloped countries lucky to eat once a day? Lots of them grow up to be tall and strong, too.

I'm not suggesting that she be neglectful. I'm just saying that her baby won't starve to death or go malnourished if he goes without food for four hours.

What's sad about my sister is that she is rude and disagreeable to everybody, yet she delusively believes that others approve of her, because she dresses well, COUNSELS others wisely, and looks like a perfect mother. Ah when is she going to wake up?

Like I used to be (a thing of the past, I hope), she is a nasty bitch with a know-it-attitude.

Why don't I say anything? Because if I do she will hurt me. She will leave me bleeding inside and depressed for days, by showing me the skeletons I have in my closet, of which she is quite aware.

The other reason is that it won't help her. People change when life opens their eyes. She may change someday, when she finds herself utterly alone, and she is forced to see the error of her ways. I don't see it happening any earlier than that.

My husband and I are seriously toying with the idea of moving to the other side of the country. We think that there may be more jobs there, and from there, we can more easily visit Europe, Eastern Canada, and the eastern states.

Personally, I wouldn't be too heartbroken to leave my "beloved" sister behind. She's as thorny as a rose and as self-centered as Scarlett O'Hara. I would miss out on my nephew, but I already enjoyed 13 others in the past, and they all grew up and forgot me. Let's face it. He isn't mine, and his loyalty is to his parents, so I've got to look out for ourselves. We have nephews on his side who have promised to put us on a nursing home at the end of our days.

Here is hoping that by bitching about my sister, I have helped myself to see the error of my ways as well.

Working on my issues

I’ve been working on my issues for many years now. What are my issues? Rage, depression, lack of people’s skills, blurting out my unfiltered thoughts consistently, speaking evil of people behind their backs, speaking evil at people on their own faces, hating anyone with imperfections, getting easily upset and never forgiving, etc. etc.

It is very hard to live in the world when people have to be perfect to make your list of only-people-she-will-ever-talk-to.

My issues are severe, serious, and difficult to overcome. But I’ve been working at it. Of late, the one issue I’ve been forced to face is fatalism. The last time my husband was unemployed for a while, I became completely depressed, constantly worrying about us ending up on the street, begging for food. Yes, that’s what I did for a whole year, and we had a six-month severance with a whole year of Employment Insurance benefits to follow. On top of that, we had no mortgage or debt of any kind. But I was miserable. In my mind, I saw us completely destitute. I never did picture us getting jobs and moving on.

Having been through that before really helps this time around. But working on the “issues” all these years is really helping as well. For some reason, I’m refusing to worry. I’m determined to be happy “in spite of” instead of “because of,” apparently.

I’m really shocked to see the emotional resilience I have developed. I didn’t expect it to be this way. In fact, when he lost his job, my biggest concern wasn’t his unemployment. It was my reaction. I thought I would feel as if somebody had kicked me on the stomach, for the entire time of his unemployment.

I wasn’t expecting to be feeling shitty health-wise, but as I was telling him yesterday, I feel uncomfortably unhealthy, but now I know why. Not only that, I know that millions of perimenopausal women all over the world are experiencing my symptoms, and for some reason that helps. Maybe because I realize that I’m not crazy or hypochondriac, just menopausal.

As for my own unemployment, for some reason I feel really positive as well. I only hear good stuff from my inner voice. It could be that this time I’m determined to do just about anything for a buck--but not only for a buck. I want to work because I miss being out there, meeting people, making friends, having my own money to spend.

Being employed offers a lot more benefits than just money and extended health insurance. It is good for you. It helps you know that you belong in the universe. It makes you feel useful. And I’m determined to have that again.

As for my issues, I am working very hard on my affirmations. I have one that says, “I surprise myself with my incredible patience.”

Let’s hope that when I get my job in May or June, that I will be the model employee. One who never complains, keeps her strong opinions to herself, doesn’t take anything personally, allows people to be imperfect, and concentrates on the work at hand instead of on the surrounding people.

A Good Day

Not wishing to wait until next week, I saw a doctor today. He said that I’m peri-menopausal and that I am not pregnant. Excellent news! Now, I move on.

I also talked to him about my joint pain, and he diagnosed me with rotator cuff tendonitis. Maybe I can use that as a disability. Keep that in mind when you read further down, and that I saw the doctor after having gone to the government agency.

He wants me take some medication for a couple of weeks and to see a physical therapist. He said swimming would be good, too.

And yes, I saw an employment counselor, too. I had called that agency even though they work with people with disabilities, because they seemed to have a program for “normal” folks. But when I got there, the caseworker said that she was indeed a caseworker, but for people with disabilities.

“OK,” I said, “I’ll go home to find another agency.”

“Why would you do that,” she said, “if I can do that here, with you?”

“Because I can do it myself, online.”

Then she said, “Or I can help you, do you have any chronic pain or another issue that we can use as a disability to try to get you funding for training?”

Then she got my attention.

I said that, yes, I had chronic pain issues but that I hadn’t been diagnosed by a doctor. “But I do have a psychological disability,” I said.

Then I explained that I had trouble dealing with people and handling stress, due to my abusive upbringing, which combined with the culture, has made my working life in this country miserable.

She said, “OK, you have PTSD. I’ll write that on the papers, and I can work with you.”

“Maybe there is a god,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to have a disability sticker for my car.”

“Most of the disabilities we deal with, here, are invisible,” she said.

But why is this good news to me? Because she will work with me keeping my most difficult shortcomings in mind. She will be there every step of the way helping me figure out what type of job I can get that fits the person I am. Other employment programs assume that, if you have skills, you should be able to find a job and live happily ever after. Not so with me. There is a reason I haven’t wanted to work in several years.

Yes, I do have a handicap. And somehow I landed at a government-funded agency that helps people with handicaps like mine. It’s pleasantly bizarre, really.

Incredibly enough, seeing my issues as a handicap has given me more hope than ever. Maybe because I know that there is much better funding and opportunities for persons with disabilities, while at the same time, fewer people are looking for that sort of help, so counselors have more time and resources for the likes of me, who need hand holding. And some people wonder why I love this country so much!

Of course, if after looking for work for a while we conclude that I need a little re-training, we will have to get doctors and psychologists signatures, to prove that I have issues. It shouldn’t be hard to find 50 people or so to agree that I do.

Yes, it was a good day.

Unemployed and Menopausal

If it weren’t funny, it would be sad: I haven’t had my Mother Nature’s visit for about 60 days. And I’m having all the symptoms of the M word, like night sweats, joint pain, nausea, acne, and others that I'll leave unmentioned.

My hope is that it truly is the end of my reproductive days. It sucks to be tired all the time, but it is better than having Mother Nature surprise you with her dirty business every 20+ days.

I must say, though, that the concern is hindering the beginning of my job search. I don’t know why I am so preoccupied about it, when it is such a natural thing. OK, I’ll admit it. There is 1% possibility that I could be pregnant. Cheap me doesn’t want to spend the $3.95 for a pregnancy test. Maybe I should try the dollar store and get it over with.

Today my sister gave me a hpt, expired by two months. I will try it tomorrow, and it will be negative. But it will be good to know for sure. Yes, I’m sure, because I just don’t feel pregnant at all. There are other changes that I experienced when I’ve been pregnant that just aren’t happening.

I also have a doctor’s appointment for next week. I don’t know what I will tell her. “Hey, I thought I’d let you know that I’ve missed my last three, and I’m not pregnant.”

Or maybe I’ll say, “Care to check me for Osteoporosis? I am lactose intolerant and menopausal. Maybe there is something I should be doing to prevent the O thing.”

The worse part of being menopausal is that when you look for symptoms on the Internet, you land on forums where they do discuss your issues. And you find comments like, “Yeah, me too, I’ve been feeling like that for the last EIGHT years.”

Then you swear and reach for your gun. Good thing I don’t own one.

Well, that’s what’s burdening my mind these days. Tomorrow, I’ll see a case manager about getting help on my job search. I hope it goes well.

Oh my gosh! How Negative

I use affirmations for behaviour modification and to stay positive.

Yesterday, I was writing affirmations when I came to the issue of respect. So I wrote, “I respect all people.”

Then I realized that I do respect some people, but I do have issues in that area. Then I thought I should be more specific and started to write a list of all the folks I have trouble respecting.

I wrote,

I respect the annoying, the hurtful, the racist, the misogynist, the rude, the conversation hogger, the know-it-all, the backstabber, the gossiper, the hypocrite, the show-off, the snob, the religious-fanatic, the bully, the controlling, the insistent, the naïve, the ignorant, the disrespectful, the telemarketer, the patronizing, the opinionated, the co-dependent …

So, I wrote the list, and then I realized a couple of things: (1) I have a problem respecting most people, and (2) I have a problem respecting myself, since I often display some of those behaviours, too. No wonder I have so much trouble liking myself. The problem with being judgmental is that as we judge others we judge ourselves.

I don’t know what’s first, if respect for self or respect for others, but I do have my work cut out for me.

Another issue I’m working on is keeping my opinions to myself. So I wrote the affirmation, “I keep my opinions to myself.”

About an hour ago, while watching a curling match, I noticed a Canadian player’s sweater. “She looks like a hospital worker,” I thought. And I noticed that at the moment I had the thought, I actually pictured myself saying that.

In the following ten minutes, I found myself in the same situation with other aspects of the game: their looks, their play, etc.

It has never been so abundantly clear to me how negative my thoughts are. I see good stuff, too, and again I picture myself telling somebody that so-and-so is a great player.

I will never be perfect, I know, but at least I need to learn to keep my opinions to myself. Let’s face it, negative or not, most people don’t care what I think. So my quest, then, is to picture myself keeping my opinions private. It ain’t going to be easy.

Godless Positive Thinking

The problem I've found with positive thinking is not the concept itself. Yes, positive people do better in life. Yes, negative, grumpy, disagreeable people carry a black cloud over their heads and others tend to leave the room when they show up. True it is harder for such people to make it in life, with such a bad attitude--I used to be just like that, I know.

The problem I have with the concept is that when things go well for a positive-thinking person, certain people attribute the good fortune to specific magical powers of the universe, or god, or whatever.

But the truth is a simple one: positive people are fun to have around, and that's enough to help them do better in life.

I found an article which summarizes really well how I feel about positive thinking. Here is a portion of it.

Is there any magic employed here? No, it is all natural. When the attitude is positive we entertain pleasant feelings and constructive images, and see in our mind's eye what we really want to happen. This brings brightness to the eyes, more energy and happiness. The whole being broadcasts good will, happiness and success. Even the health is affected in a beneficial way. We walk tall and the voice is more powerful. Our body language shows the way you feel inside.

I'm trying to be positive these days, to not let life circumstances drag me down. That's why the issue keeps popping up in my mind.

Time to Face my Fears

I was going through a list of posted jobs, sequentially, and found two that almost had my name of them.

That was 24 hours ago and I haven’t done anything about it. Why? Because I am on the ground fiercely fighting my fears. What fears?

What will I say on the interview? So Mrs. A, why have you been away from the workforce for so long? Can you work in a team, Mrs. A? Can you work under pressure?

I am also afraid that my strong personality will turn employers off. I’m afraid that they’ll be afraid to offer me a “meager” salary, given that I used to be a hot-shot programmer.

I have fear, after fear, after fear. The good news is that I have no choice. I’m that bird standing on the edge of the nest knowing that if she doesn’t throw herself into the air and starts flying, mommy will push her, and she’ll have to fly anyway.

I suppose that I will have to tell myself that the first few interviews and resumes will just be practice runs, that it will be so until I land a job.

So Mrs. A., why haven’t you work for so long? Because I was scare s*less.

OK, enough of that. I will work on my resume now.

Morning Meditation

I have finished the wonderful website I was doing, and now I really have to look for work. I called a government agency that helps folks with that sort of “problem” and made an appointment for a week today—the earliest one they had.

In the meantime, I am going to be researching what I can do. I was thinking that I can probably try to get a job at a liquor store. If I see Christians there, they won’t be able to tell anyone they met me at the liquor store.

I have “meditated” two days in a row. Done my way, meditation feels wonderful.

First I relax, telling my major body parts to relax. Then, with my eyes closed and deeply concentrated, I start stating everything I want with “I” statements. In other words, I say affirmations but I don’t prepare them or read them. I say what I want to accomplish, from the depths of my soul.

For instance, I’ve been saying that I have a job, that I can easily handle the pressures of employment, that I know how to relax in times of distress.

To me, there is nothing mystical or weird about that. It is entirely practical. If I want to change the way I think, I need to reprogram myself, and what better way that brainwashing myself to believe I’m already the person I want to become?

A lot of that stuff I learned while visiting pagan churches, Unity and Science of Mind. But when I was in their midst, I failed to understand their language. For instance, for dealing with difficult people, they always told me to speak to others’ Higher Self.

Excuse me, but if you tell me that, you have to define Higher Self. They all have their own definitions and nothing made sense to me. They mangle it up with the idea that we’re all god, and end up saying that I’m talking to god, because they’re god. The “G” word turned me off right away.

Recently, I told my counselor that I had finally understood the concept. I said to her, “Higher Self is the pure, intact person I was before life screwed me up.” She agreed.

Today during meditation, I had another breakthrough. I realized that regardless of a person’s outward appearance, deep down inside most people are good in their core, as exemplified by how everybody helps during emergencies. If when I talk to people I oversee the stuff that bothers me and remember that deep down there is another person who is pure and good, I can deal with them better. I can appeal to that side of them and be more successful.

That is important to me, because there is too much that annoys me about people, and I tend to let their outer shell define how I treat them. If I know that the outer shell is there for a reason, and that they have a core of goodness, I can relate to them with more faith and hope.

Also during meditation, I’ve been telling myself that I can do it. That I have what it takes to find a job. That I deserve one. That somebody out there needs my skills, and I will find out who that is.

If anything else, meditating in the morning keeps me hopeful. I love it and hope that I will have the discipline to stick to it.

My Own Pep Talk

I don’t like to preach, but often, when I see folks acting out and doing crazy stuff, I wish I could talk to them, open their eyes, and help them see what really is important in life.

I wish I could tell them to stop playing the audience, to do what they love, as long as they’re respecting others. I’d like them to understand that others aren’t too interested in what we’re doing. Rightfully so, others care about their own affairs and, often, we’re the last thing in their minds.

I want some of my friends to understand that the best things in life are free, and that happiness is a state of mind not a state of having, and that success does not guarantee contentment.

I look at some folks, notice their potential, and desire to make them understand that what’s in their minds is what traces their path. If they think they’re losers, they will always be losers. If they think they can’t get, they’ll never have.

I’ve been pondering these ideas for so long, that when I interact socially, those are the thoughts I entertain. I am always thinking of how much more of life people could get if they followed my “gospel.”

It is time for me to listen to my own pep talk. I need to practice what I would preach were I a preacher. There is hope for me yet. I’ve been hearing those messages as they apply to my situation--most of them, anyway.

I don’t know what potential I have left. But I’ve been playing for the last few years. Something I never did even as a child. Now that I’ve accumulated sweet wonderful memories that I was missing from my repertoire, I am ready to face life again.

So I will. I may need to upgrade my skills a little before I can find suitable work, but I am not afraid. I’m thinking of finding some part time job while I take classes so I can get a much better job. I think it will happen, and I’m excited. So here we go.

Recording my feelings - Day 3

I am feeling OK today. It seems that we have been in limbo for so long, that the shock of his unemployment isn't new at all. It's just business as usual.

Before knowing that he would be unemployed, I was already concerned about my professional future, knowing that I needed to go back out there, and that I had to decide what to do when that happened. I'm still not sure, so I continue to ponder. But I have some ideas that I will pursue.

The gist of it is that, in my eyes, feeling good is up to me. I know that lots of people in the world have mortgages or rent to pay, and that they live from pay cheque to pay cheque. We don't. We have no debt of any kind. And knowing that helps. It is very comforting. Actually, just writing that felt really good. Maybe I should write it again.

The pressure I had before to go back to the workforce is the same pressure I feel today. No changes there.

My husband will have to deal with his own feelings and unemployment any way he chooses to. But I am determined not to worry. As I said, lots of people would be on the street without a pay cheque. We won't. I need to learn to appreciate my blessings.

I have always put way too much emphasis on material possessions for my happiness. That's an area where I haven't improved at all, that fear of being poor and needy. I need to let go of that. I need to move to a place of expecting good things, financial or not.

In spite of it all, I am thankful for the dream of a new house. When you have it all, you stop dreaming. And dreaming of a better house may propel me to leave the sofa and to get out there to use my many skills and qualifications.

In a way, I've been wishing for something to jump start me on the path of a new career. I've got it. I need to have a job so I can contribute my abilities, stop depending on my husband's salary for our financial survival, save more for our retirement, and buy a better house.

I just hope that the drive won't die. That I will keep going no matter what. That I won't let anything defeat me.

It is sad that my husband's dream has to die so mine can start to develop. But I do hope that he can get himself a great job where he will be more appreciated and respected than he was at his current one.

As for the deep pain and despair that I feel once in a while, I will continue to make a conscious effort to acknowledge it and let it be when it comes. I just have to give my body the change to purge out the fear, so it won't make me physically ill.

Here is hoping that my body will hold up through this ordeal.

Recording my feelings - Day 2

Slept surprisingly well. No tears at all. Had vivid dreams of our prime minister. He and I moved in the same work environment. I saw him all the time, though I never did talk to him.

I couldn't sleep after 7 am. But I am so ready to attack my next project, the job search. I still need to finish a website I'm working on, but I will look for work, too. Interestingly enough, my only fear is that I will become complaisant and not look for work.

Here is my wish: I want to be motivated enough to tirelessly look for work, yet positive enough to be happy in spite of the situation. I want to be confident. I suppose I want to take the fear away without taking the urge away. But, can that be done?

10:28 am I just came up with an affirmation that I plan to repeat in my head.

"I will enjoy life in spite of it all." Yes, I will. There is enough money in the bank to feed us for a few years yet.

Keeping Record of My Developing Feelings

I will edit this post every once in a while. So that I can read it later, months later, and see how I was feeling at the time.

Day 1
=====

1:30 pm
I will find a job, no matter how hard I have to work at it.

2:00 pm
This is horrible. Nobody wants us. The world is against us. We will never find jobs. We will have to sell our house, move to an apartment, and be destitute for the rest of our lives.

2:30 pm
This is my opportunity to get out there and get back to where I was before it all fell apart on me. I will be back. People who want jobs find jobs.

3:00 pm
I don't feel I have the right to enjoy life. How can I enjoy life not knowing where our income is going to be coming from?

3:30 pm
Heck, life goes on. I will enjoy what's there to enjoy and life will take care of itself.

3:45 pm - Feeling hopeless again, like at 2:00 pm.

4:30 pm - This is great a new beginning. That job was going to pay him too low any way. Now we can roll up our sleeves and find work we deserve.

5:30 pm - Sad. So sad. I feel like crying, again. But I am determined to not let his ruin my life. I will force myself to have fun. There are lots of things to do for free. Cooking us a spaghetti dinner to celebrate our new beginning.

7:00 pm Now it's really hitting me. The job market is difficult right now, and finding a job won't be easy at all. I am feeling the pain right now, in my gut. It won't go away. I may cry myself to sleep.

Husband lost his job

My husband lost his job. We weren’t expecting that at all. And now, we move on.

I just found out about 15 minutes ago, and every second my mood changes. I haven’t been able to cry yet, but I wish I could.

One second I’m angry at the people who mislead us to believe he would have the job, the next one I’m happy that we finally know. He worked there for five years and we never knew from one year to the next.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, but one thing is for sure, my idle days are over. I’m going to have to get out there and find a job. The house sale, of course, is postponed until after he finds a job, as if worse comes to worse, we’ll have to relocate. I think we should keep doing what we were doing house-cleaning wise, and be ready for whatever.

Our savings are OK and we will be fine for a while, a long while. My husband’s communication’s skills are so poor that it is difficult for him to find work. Let’s hope that mine are better and that at least I will find a job.

I can feel the lump moving up to my throat now, so I may be able to shed a few tears. It wouldn’t hurt me at all.

House, Again

I guess we’re thinking of selling in May, and now the work starts, since well, as you could see on the Vancouver Olympics broadcast, we didn’t get a winter here. Mild weather and the end of the Olympics was the deadline. Spring has arrived, early, and I actually hired a stager to tell us how to change our home to make it better. Those were the best $125 CND ever spent.

She told us what colour to paint the house, how to place the furniture, how to stage the bedrooms, what stuff to remove, etc. And by using her name we get 30% off on the paint. I’m thinking that the paint discount will pay her fee.

Anyhow, Now I have my hands full. So full it isn’t funny. I have to finish power washing the fence, and then I have to stain it. I also have to paint the shed and the sundeck. Weeds need removing, flower beds need to be weeded and improved, etc. I have weeks of work just on the backyard.

The three outside doors and mouldings need to be painted—thank goodness the garage door got painted recently, as did the woodwork around windows and such. It's also great that the vinyl siding doesn’t require painting.

Inside, we have to paint all walls and some baseboards and fix the kitchen cabinets, as some of them are peeling off. The upstairs carpet, that looks like an old kitchen rug, needs to go, and I must figure out what to switch to. My husband will do his half when he comes home from work everyday.

It is good to be busy, though. I’m actually having fun, and houses do need to be taken care of. So I am glad this one is getting a facelift. Wish me luck! Selling a house for the first time is an adventure and a learning experience.

Indecision

I just realized that the problem I’m having with my marriage is that I still want to live as a single person. After nearly 12 years of marriage, I am still not used to having to wait for another person before I go ahead with a plan.

I married at 34-and-½ years old, and all my life I pretty much did whatever I wanted. That didn’t cause me too many disciplinary problems at school or at home, since whatever I chose to do was always lawful, decent, and reasonable.

But I find myself now married to a person who also lived his life as I did, at his own whim. A good, smart kid, he always made sound decisions and his parents trusted him to follow his own path.

These two good kids got married and both make reasonable plans and discuss well thought out visions of life. We always have good options to choose from, but we are two different people and one of us has to give in. We are not used to giving in. Neither of us is.

So, in my case, not only do I have to get ready to give in. But I have to wait for days, weeks, or even months for him to make up his mind. And this kills me. I have always been the type to decide and do.

In other words, if it had been me alone way back in November who decided to sell the house and move, I would probably already be living at the new house.

My husband, on the other hand, is just now getting excited with the prospect of moving. After nearly three months of toying with the idea, he is now on board full time. By now, I am tired of thinking about it. I am tired of deliberating, should we live at the north or at the south? Should we take a mortgage or go cheap? Should we this? Should we that?

I am just about ready to move on to something else. And now he wants to think house, house, when I am out of steam, when I couldn’t care less anymore.

Maybe that’s the reason that I have become so not me. In the past I dreamed, I planed, and I went for it. There was no delay button. I just went.

Now, it is almost as if I’ve lost the ability to dream. Why bother dreaming? I’ll wake up, go to sleep again, and wake up, and my husband will still not know if my opinion is worth considering.

Frankly, I don’t think he can be changed. That’s who he is. And I shouldn’t have to change either that’s me. There is, apparently, no solution to my problem. But there has to be a way for that awesome man and this remarkable woman to find some balance. I just haven’t figured out the way yet.

I ignore if it will help, but perhaps I need to get a job. Sometimes I think that I should work in retail or get some other low-paying job, but making minimum salary will just increase our taxes, and the little extra money would not be enough to compensate us for the many homemade, healthy meals and other stuff that I do because I can be home doing the work: sewing window treatments, making tablecloths, repairing clothes, making homemade bread, ice cream, pies, soy milk, etc.

I truly don’t know what to do. But I need to find my spark again. I’m pretty sure that this complacency I’ve settled for is low-grade depression: barely noticeable but existing and nagging.

She Drives Me Crazy – Part III: Delayed Anger and Grief

I think I just had an aha moment regarding this friend, Marissa. What I’m experiencing is delayed anger.

She is a hyper-controlling person who thinks she is right and the rest of the world is wrong. In other words, like a cult leader, she believes she is “god,” and she is so sure of it that you buy her shit. I fell for it, when I was backboneless and insecure.

She annoyed me, yes. But the annoyance was a vague feeling that something was wrong. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Looking back, I see that when she said, “Go right,” I went right. She had a lot of power over me. She looked so together and smart. Even three weeks ago I thought she had it together and had a method to her madness.

But then I went there and lived in her house for a little over 4 days, and all of a sudden I noticed the bunch of stinky bullshit. She lives like a homeless and speaks as if she lived in opulence. Going for what she says, you would never believe that the kids behave like beggars when they see a jar of yogurt. Imagine if I’d had candy!

What I am is angry that a clueless narcissistic bitch tried to run my life once and is still trying (going for how hard she tried to convince me to go back to Christianity). I can’t believe that she is presenting herself as the Virgin Mary of motherhood, when she should be jailed for neglect.

These days I daydream of telling her that she is a domineering abusive mother who has lots of children because that’s her only way of getting friends. I wish I could go back to the times when she looked down on what I was wearing and scream at her, “Who are you to tell me what to wear, you who dress like a homeless.”

Today, I remember how she was nice to me, but she also controlled me, and I hate her for it. I suppose it angers me that that’s exactly how she’s abusing her children. With lots of hugs and kisses she has convinced them that they don’t need food, or new clothes, or a clean house. All they need is mommy and she is “god.”

I wish I could go through her house showing her how dilapidated her house is and tell her that she has no right to bring any more children into this world, because she doesn’t know how to take care of them. I wish I could scream it at her.

My eyes have been opened, and now I see the past with different eyes. I am reprocessing all my past experiences with her and moving them from one compartment of my brain to another. She just went from the slot for past good friendships to the abusive-relationship slot. I will be angry for a while, very angry, no doubt about it.

I don’t know if she already clued in that I had the gloves off during my visit. It is possible that she did clue in after I left. For her sake, I hope she did notice that I am no longer the person I used to be. I am no longer abusable or manipulable. She can forget about me even trying to swallow her shit with a straight face, ever--not for a long time, anyway.

I suppose I should have some compassion on her for being so clueless and misguided. But the time to have compassion on her will come. For now, I need some time to have compassion on me, for having put up with such insanity for so long.

I wonder how many other friendships I need to re-process, even if I am no longer in touch with those people.

She drives me crazy – Part II

As per my previous post, after coming back from visiting my friend ( I’ll call her Marissa) who lives in the country, I kept analyzing the reasons for my major discomfort. My husband, who as I said has a little trouble being around her for too long, says that I need to stop torturing myself for having been disagreeable. He says I just have to be who I am and stop tormenting myself over it.

Realistically speaking, I don’t think it is humanly possible for me to sit around seeing the stuff I saw and feeling the stuff I felt and say nothing. It would be way too hard.

But I’d better be more specific. During the last few days, I’ve been analyzing her behaviour, trying to figure out why she annoys me so much.

This woman is a psychologist who stopped working in the field because—I think—she had trouble with authority. As for the rest of her background, as far as I know she comes from a middle class family with good manners and a good financial situation.

But she acts really weirdly. For instance, she wears clothes that don’t match, decorates horribly, and seems to know nothing regarding all things house and good manners. At some point she showed me, proudly, an old, terrible, wrinkled table runner that she bought at the thrift shop. Worse yet, she doesn’t use it to decorate the table, she uses it as tablecloth. That is, at meal times, she spreads the horrible thing on the table, and removes it after. Maybe I’m the crazy one, but I use runners as decoration. At meal times I use a tablecloth. Also, she doesn’t use napkins at the table. For every meal, I had to go to the bathroom to get toilet paper, so I could wipe my fingers.

Another disturbing incident happened when she got me to teach her children to make an ethnic hot beverage from my country, and I needed a measuring cup. She only has one, and I’d seen it in the washroom. So, in the middle of teaching the kids, and after having asked for the cup a couple of times, I had to go to the washroom myself to get the measuring cup, so I could continue with my recipe. (Sometimes I think it possible that she is insane.)

All this is upsetting me because, when we were single, I was very insecure. New in Canada, I thought she knew better and let her boss me around and criticize me, as if I was always wrong and she was right.

Twelve years later, I have developed a much healthier self-esteem, have learned things about life, like decorating, cooking, baking, sewing, and etiquette, and I can see now that she is as ignorant as they come. She knows nothing. She is clueless. (Isn’t that what happens to children when they grow up and discover that their parents don’t know everything after all?)

Every time I remember that five years ago she came to my beautiful home and tried to redecorate it, I get really angry. But, angry at who? At myself, perhaps, for having trusted her judgment. I should have stood up for myself, but I didn’t.

Going back to the present, I now finally realize what her problem is. It is easy to see where her parents screwed up when you see her dealing with her own children. For instance, her little girl wears, say, a shinny dressy outfit to the mall, because she wants to. That’s enough for mommy, that the little girl wants to. It hasn’t occurred to her that her role in life is to guide her daughter though life, to help her fit in. No. Her role in life is to (1) praise everything her daughter does, (2) let her do whatever she wants—in areas where mommy doesn’t care, (3) teach her to care very much about other people’s opinions, and (4) kiss, her, hug her, etc, overly so.

It may sound good on paper, but in practice it produces horrible results, as exemplified by how difficult it is to tolerate Marissa, by many accounts.

Marissa is a sucker for praise. She is always asking if you like whatever she does, wears, cooks, etc. And you must praise her, because if you don’t, she’ll keep asking what she did wrong, how she can improve, and—not on those words but—how can she possibly get you to praise her. In other words, she behaves like a four year old.

The four days I was at her house, among other things, she sang aloud so I could hear her (she is an amateur singer, BTW), and she fished for compliments continually. Come on, everybody knows she sings well. Do we need to tell her 24 hours a day?

She showed me all the schoolwork that her homeschooled kids have produced for years, and I had to pretend to love the stuff. It was good stuff, but why submit me to such torture?

She showed me the dress collection of her daughter, from babyhood to today (six years). I was expected to praise each piece of shit, because if I didn’t, she would start asking what was wrong with the dresses.

Personally, I think it is all about balance. Parents should give their children some room to breathe regarding choices, but some guidance should be offered. For instance, shinny dresses are for special occasions, to the mall you wear something comfy, like jeans.

Also, teach your kids to be who they are, sure. Tell them to use their instinct and their taste. Why not? But also be sure to let them know that if they’re going to be different from the “pack,” they shouldn’t expect a standing ovation. Teach your kids that being different has consequences and that, if they’re going to be different, they should be prepared to be bullied, laughed at, or at the very least, not praised by everyone and sundry.

Teach your kids that people are too busy living their own lives. They don’t have time to (1) be praising everything you do, or (2) to care at all. Praise-thirsty people can get on every one’s nerves. Marissa does.

I strongly believe her problem is that her parents didn’t guide her at all and praised everything she did. The end result is a person who doesn’t know how to do anything right but expects you to praise everything she does.

On this trip, for the first time in my life, I expressed my disagreement. I said no many times. It is too bad that there being so many people in this world, it falls on my shoulders to let that narcissist know that no, she isn’t perfect, not by a long shot. Shame on her parents for letting her think she is. (Actually, I have it in good authority that her husband is just hanging on for dear life, and that he and I agree on almost everything regarding his wife’s behaviour.)

One disagreement was about her three year old who had never, according to her, stayed with anyone but mom or dad. When she asked me if I was willing to stay with him, I said, “Sure, but don’t make a big deal out of it. Just go, OK?”

“But he needs to know that I won’t be home.”
“No he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does.”
“No, he doesn’t.”

Of course, I wasn’t saying, “Don’t say bye to him.” I was saying “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

She goes, “Honey, mommy and daddy are leaving, OK? Are you going to be fine with L----? Mommy and daddy are coming soon honey. Don’t worry about it… blah, blah, blah.”

And she went on, and on, and on until he actually turned around and walked away. It was almost as if she were saying, “I am staying long enough for you to cry, because mommy needs to know that you can’t live without her.”

I felt like slapping her. But, the kid chose to tearlessly stay with me, anyway. That I found hard to believe. But it did happen.

Yes, I was disagreeable. Yes, I spoke my mind. Yes, perhaps I shouldn’t have. But I am thinking that I shouldn’t worry too much. Maybe she’ll just get tired of not being praised by me and will never call me again. I won’t be too broken hearted.

Anyway, if you made it to this last line, I thank you with all my heart. Thank you for reading this long post. Talk about bitching!

She drives me crazy!

I’ve come back from my trip feeling totally weird. This friend of mine is considered by most highly annoying. Even my husband gets quite irritated when she is around. But she is a good person and has always been there for me when I have needed her. She puts up with me better than my relatives. She has four children 11 and under, she is a home schooler, and going by what I could see, she is driving her husband up the wall.

She is unorthodox in that she has a unique way of doing things, but on the other hand, she is afraid of what others are going to say. In other words, she acts weirdly and annoys everybody, but she's clueless. In her mind, she is portraying the image of a perfect wife and mother, and being admired by all.

We had a serious disagreement after church on Sunday.

We came to church and she just threw her jacket on the pew, when she could have hung it on the hallway. I took it and went outside to hang it. Then, she took her boots off, and her six-year-old daughter moved from two places away, by walking on the pew, to her arms, to be cuddled. Since we were singing standing up, she sat the girl (taller than most six year olds) on the back of the pew in front of us.

I looked around and people were looking, bewildered. Most folks teach their children to behave in church, so to me what she was doing was highly unusual. Then her little guy started acting out, and daddy on the opposite side of the pew, handed him to her.

He continued to be difficult and at some point, she run out of the sanctuary, barefoot, to calm down her three year old. She did that two more times after that.

At some point during the service, she had insisted that her eldest put away his Garfield comic book. He refused.

When we got home, she scolded him, for having disobeyed her. At that point, I couldn’t shut up. I said, “He was quietly reading his book, behaving perfectly well, while his sister was walking on the pew and acting out, and you’re scolding him? People were looking at us, bewildered.”

She went on to insist that there was nothing wrong with the girl standing on the pew or sitting on the pew’s back. I was wrong. People weren’t scandalized.

I feel awful for having argued with my hostess. Awful.

But the arguing didn’t stop there. I had been there since Thursday and had seen enough. Her priorities don’t include feeding her children. Sometimes, it is 11 am and the kids haven’t had anything to eat. Since I had to eat, I had to share what I made for me. I gave them yogurt, chopped fruit, sliced sausage and what not. In fact, the day I left, the little one said, “I like ---. She gives me yogurt.”

We were talking about traveling when she said to prefer going out with the children alone, without her husband. I, stupidly, jumped off my seat and blurted. “Oh, my gosh, don’t do that. You’ll starve the children to death.” That didn’t go well, since she's not only careless, but she's also a terrible cook.

I also said later that she should send me the children so I can take them to the Olympics. “No, not you, only the children. I’ll send them home overweight.”

The kids and I got along great, and I had great conversations with her husband, who is also my friend. We all met when we were single, a lifetime ago.

For what I gathered, she has trouble finding people to visit her and to stay with when she comes into town. She says the children drive everyone crazy. She couldn’t believe they didn’t drive me nuts. But I think it isn’t the kids who make people climb the walls, it’s her.

She believes in “communication skills.” So she is constantly “perception checking.” Every moment she is with you, she wants to know if she offended you, if you really want to, say, go out, or whatever. But she doesn’t ask you once, she asks again and again. “Are you sure?” “Is it really OK to leave the children with you for a few minutes?” “Is no problem, is it?”

After the third or fourth time, I get quite irritated, and showing annoyance say, “Why wouldn’t I want to stay with the children?”

The weird thing is that up till the last second, she kept saying how glad she was that I came, how much the children liked me, and how much she’d like for me to come see them again soon. She even wanted us to figure out which room my husband and I could use when we come together, this winter preferably.

Why would she want somebody grumpy like me to come visit? Why isn’t she offended by my nasty retorts and lack of patience? Why does she want to have a visitor who constantly disagrees with her and sides with her weary husband?

Sometimes I daydream that I’m telling her all these things. Or at least, I’d like to know why she wants to have such a disagreeable friend. I truly don’t get it.

I know I came with presents for the kids and they loved me for it, but it was cheap stuff. Nothing to write home about. I am also trying to convince her to stop trying so hard to be perfect. I say things like, "Don't be so hard on yourself. There are no perfect parents. No matter what you do, you'll always make mistakes." Or, "The purpose of life is to be happy, not to be perfect."

I just feel that I showed her in too many ways, nice and nasty, how much I disagree with the way she goes about life. And I don't like that. I believe in accepting people as they are, not in trying to change them. Basically, I feel that my co-dependency flared up, and I don't like it.

Today, I’m puzzled. On one hand, I am glad I went and enjoyed her lovely kids. Great kids. I loved feeding them and giving them attention and being useful. But I’m not sure that I should go back. I feel bruised and traumatized. Shouldn’t she feel the same way?

Psychic Powers?

A fellow anonymous blogger just posted a picture of his. I was shocked when I saw it because I had a mental image of the guy, and it was scarily similar to the one I had in my mind.

I suppose that somewhere in me there is a psychic gift of some sort, which to me doesn’t mean that there is a god. It just means that we are all in some fashion connected and that our vibes sometimes cross each others’.

As psychics go, if I have a touch of that, it is minimal. I am unable to predict the future or to even know in advance who’s calling when the phone rings. But my intuition is definitely in “tune” in certain areas.

I have a sister with whom we have almost the same thoughts. We don’t even like each other, but our DNA’s must be almost identical. We have the same diseases and very similar physical features. Now that she has a baby, I yearn to see the baby, but not wanting to become a pest, I try not to walk the three blocks to her house more than once a week.

However, on days when I’m planning on calling her, she often calls first. One day, I was desperately wanting to see the baby and had even changed and showered so I could go there, when she rang the bell.

I can’t understand why I have this connection with my least favourite sister, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. I also can’t understand why I love her baby so much, but it is hard not to love babies, right? They’re all so adorable. (Or maybe it is that half his DNA is the same as mine.)

I also have the “gift” of getting a psychological x-ray of people when I meet them. I can usually tell immediately if they’re shallow, liars, have a low self-esteem, or are in some way obnoxious.

I have always considered this a curse, because I see who they really are and tend to dislike them right off the bat. Often, I have refused to hear my inner voice telling me these things about people, and I now think it was a mistake.

I now believe that, ideally, I should find something to like in them, in spite of being sure of their shortcomings. After all, who of us is perfect?

I need to learn that even liars and bullies are people with something in them worthy of my respect. But, honestly, I’m not sure I have what it takes to do that. Any ideas?

Do you have any “powers” that can be loosely categorized as psychic?