In Middle Age and Bitching

Quite Happy Today

2010-08-10T16:47:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-16T13:38:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-29T12:45:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-23T13:10:00.000-07:00

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.

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

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.

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

2010-04-18T15:00:00.001-07:00

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?

2010-04-15T11:16:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-10T13:26:00.001-07:00

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

2010-04-05T20:55:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-01T09:12:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-31T10:00:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-27T19:29:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-25T20:50:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-24T21:58:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-22T14:45:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-19T23:29:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-18T12:58:00.001-07:00

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

2010-03-17T14:53:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-13T14:51:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-11T12:23:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-10T10:28:00.001-08:00

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

2010-03-09T15:44:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-09T13:26:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-07T21:45:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-10T12:41:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-22T11:22:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-17T19:36:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-01-12T21:53:00.000-08:00

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?

2010-01-05T16:12:00.000-08:00

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?

Realtor

2009-12-13T11:36:00.000-08:00

I’m having an existential crisis that makes me envy people who can say no to anyone anytime.

When we bought our house 12 years ago, we used a Realtor from my previous church. A guy I sang next to for years in the choir. I loved him and respected him and he proved to be a top-notch Realtor. He ended up contributing his wonderful singing voice to our wedding ceremony.

But that guy retired and delegated his clients to a new one. For years, our calendar has been coming from the new guy. So when we thought of the possibility of putting the house for sale, I called him, and never having met him, I made the regrettable mistake of pretty much giving him the job.

I said, “We are thinking of putting our house for sale sometime next year, and since it would be you selling it, I wonder if you could come and tell us how we can improve the house to make it ready for sale.”

He did come, in a hurry, because he had to get back home before rush hour. He found the bridge’s traffic scary—obviously he lives on the other side.

We took him around the house, pen and paper in hand, asking for suggestions. He would say, “I don’t know.” or “I’ll pay for a staging consultation, and she will tell you that.”

He never did even sit down, his phone was ringing constantly, and he provided very little information. He said that it would be hard to sell our house given how terrible the neighbours retaining wall looked, and he said we should call the city about it.

The next day, we went to an open house, and we found a home we loved: a 100-yeard-old, English-cottage style home sitting on an acre of land with lots of trees and a huge driveway for six or seven cars.

Naturally, we told that Realtor how we felt about the house, making it clear that our house wasn’t even in the market yet, and that we had issues with the neighbours retaining wall. “I’d be happy to come over and have a look,” she said.

After telling her that we didn’t want to waste her time, I finally agreed to let her come over and made an appointment for the following week. But when we came home, my husband said that he needed to build a sundeck before we could move. “If I don’t build one here, I may never have the chance again.”

“I brought up the issue of selling to stop you from throwing money into this house,” I said. But he continued to make plans to build the deck. “It’s only $2K. Big deal!”

I told the newer Realtor not to bother coming because the house wasn’t going to be up for sale until the fall, but she decided to come anyway.

She came last Friday. She had called the city herself. She had numbers of recent sales in our neighbourhood, she CONVINCED my husband not to build the sundeck, and gave us a list of small, cheap changes we could make to give the house more appeal. She presented us with a marketing plan and offered to take us around to see houses currently in the market, just for us to see what’s out there. She was here for three hours and did not answer the phone the whole time.

How do I tell this woman that I’ve decided to stay with the other Realtor, when she’s already given us much better service? How do I tell the other Realtor that after giving him my word, I now want to go with someone else?

I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to let go of any of them. This is terrible.

The woman has been in Real State for only 2 years. The guy has been selling for 25. But he seems technologically challenged, and she has the latest technologies, and works for a company where the head guy has 35 years of experience. Also, her people’s skills are superior.

I feel that because she’s newer and has fewer clients, she will give us much more time and effort. Plus, she has seen exactly what we like, a 100-year-old house.

Ah, shoot me, please. Shoot me. Husband won’t help. He just says, “I don’t think you should go for a Realtor you’re not comfortable with.”

But how do I tell him? How?

Home for Sale

2009-12-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

I live in a beautiful home. Well, it does look beautiful when we put away all the stuff that hangs around on the hallways to have people over. My husband is a pack rat who rarely throws anything out. He also likes to shop in bulk. The other day, for instance, a liquidation store had umbrellas for $1. He bought six.

All the stuff needs to be stored somewhere, so we have all kinds of shelving and cabinets and places where to keep stuff. But we’ve exhausted the house’s capacity. We really have.

Of course, he isn’t the only one to blame. I, too, have my bad habits. I like to make 100% home made food. So, I must have a juicer, a deep fryer, a sausage stuffer, a grain mill, a bread maker, a heavy duty mixer, a hand mixer, a blender, all kinds of baking sheets and pans, a counter top oven to save electricity, a pressure cooker, a pressure canner, three slow cookers (yes, three), etc—all that is my fault entirely. So I have a large kitchen with an island in the middle, and I still need more room. And only two people live in this professionally decorated home.

But that isn’t the only issue. We live in a soft soil area. That means that in some distant past, a river went by here, and through the centuries, an island appeared made of sediment created by the river currents. What that means in practical terms is that it is “sinky” here. The soil was preloaded before building the neighbourhood, and the houses are sitting on a concrete pad, so they aren’t sinking. But we live on an earthquake zone, and I’ve read horrible stories of what happens on such areas during disasters of that nature.

When we bought the house, we needed to live close to the big city, because we both worked there. In fact, his job was right downtown—and this is a major North American city, so we needed to stay close.

Now however, he works two cities away from downtown, and I don’t work. Also, incredibly enough, the house has appreciated to almost double its purchase price. So I’m thinking that it is time to get the money from our investment and get the heck out before something terrible happens.

We would move further away from the city, hoping to get more square footage for the same money. I’m thinking of a house with a large basement where my husband can keep all his trash. And an extra room where I can keep my cooking toys. Our thousands of books should also fit in that basement.

So yesterday, We talked about it in the morning (vacation day for him), I called the realtor, and he was here within two hours. We discussed the situation and decided to work towards putting the house in the market by early spring. We are thinking that after the Winter Olympics bring people from all over the world, the housing market may boom even more than usual. They will experience first hand the incredible pleasure of living close to the ocean surrounded by snow capped mountains, parks, lakes, and rivers. Let me tell you...!

I’m nervous about leaving my treasured nest, of course. When I look around and see all the window treatments that I so carefully chose. All the storage space that my husband added with hard work, and just how beautiful the house is when clean and tidy, I feel like saying, “To heck with moving, let’s stay.” But my brain still says go.

We will see what happens in the next few weeks.

To dramatize or not to dramatize, that's the question

2009-12-01T21:33:00.000-08:00

I just figured out one of the problems I have with social interactions. I’m opinionated. I know that. But the problem is that my husband enjoys it. Our life is a sitcom. I express my opinions outrageously, and he laughs about it.

We were watching House Hunters on HGTV just now, and I saw a kitchen with ugly green walls. I grimaced and loudly said, “Ohhhh…that’s terrible.” You would’ve thought I saw someone puking. But it was just ugly paint colour on a kitchen wall. I’ve grown accustomed to overly dramatizing and to having my husband laugh his heart out.

When I do that in front of others, however, they seem bewildered, as in they can’t believe I can express myself so freely.

The problem is that there is only one of me. I can’t be one person at home and another one with strangers. It just isn’t possible. We are creatures of habit. Our responses are automatic. Had I married a prim and proper guy, I would be used to behaving, but that isn’t the case.

My sister, however, married a prim and proper guy. She has trained herself to speak quietly and to have fine manners (or so she thinks). I think she reserves all her nastiness for me, especially when she is trying to train me to be like her husband. One of these days she’ll get tired of my nasty retorts and will give up—I can only hope.

Anyway, there is my dilemma. It kind of sucks.

On being judgmental

2009-11-21T12:59:00.000-08:00

I always thought that judging people and situations was a necessary evil. I thought it protected us from the unexpected. If I could know the character of a person by the first signs on new acquaintance, I could know whether I could trust them or not, whether they would bring me disappointment or joy.

I always thought that my ability to judge a person or situation was my greatest asset. I thought I was a psychic of sorts, that I could get to know the heart of a person right away.

As it turns out, I now believe I was only partially correct. The mistake was in translating the first impression to all areas or a person or situation. For instance, If, say, I met you one day, and you seemed absent and disinterested. I would’ve jumped to the conclusion that you were snob, nasty, and likely to hurt me.

Maybe yes. It is quite possible that your coldness was likely to hurt such a sensitive person as me. But I was wrong in labeling all of you based on those character traits.

You may be cold and disinterested, but you may be extremely smart and even caring if I ever have a problem and need immediate assistance. In fact, I may, at the beginning, need to keep you at arm’s length, while I get to know you better, so that I avoid taking your personal pet peeves personally. Maybe I should watch you interact with others so as to know that you’re not particularly snob toward me but treat everybody the same.

There are many aspects to a person: some good some bad. But I have been making the mistake of writing people off completely based on one-or-two peculiarities that I find annoying. If I judge everyone like that, I will always find something that annoys me.

But attitudes like mine, unfortunately, go beyond one-on-one relationships. Organizations, places, cultures, cuisines, situations and many areas of life are also judged with the same mentality. No wonder I find the world so violent and threatening.

Given my recent troubles with the organization I’ve been working with, I came to conclude that a large part of my suffering is rushing to judge situations, as either good or bad.

After much thinking, I realized that my situation with the contact woman seemed awful. But the manager was nice. She is making a mistake trusting her non-technical employee with this project. But it is giving me the opportunity to learn new skills that pay well in the work place. The bad-but-good list went on and on.

Then I realized that situations JUST are. Not good, awful, perfect, or terrible, but just are.

Instead of, for example, starting a job and being extremely happy that it is a great job, I should just think that IT IS a job. Some aspects of it will be good, some aspects will be bad, but in the end, the job JUST IS.

Same with people, most of them just are: good cooks, terrible skaters, great swimmers, good confidants, so-so conversationalists, good at math, bad at drawing, poor listeners, excellent bakers, etc., etc.

In sum, I should never put a person or a situation on either a pedestal or a pit. I should instead expect them to be a combo of qualities and faults. I should never expect that anything in my life can be judged in extremes. Good and evil are part of everything. There is no shortcut to knowing which mix I’m getting when meeting something or someone. I must get to know them slowly and take risks, cautiously so.

Yes, cautiously in that I should delay telling a person intimate problems until I’ve tested the waters with meaningless information to see if they spread rumors or not. Or seeing what they like to read before I trust them with my Jane Austen obsession.

Once I know where I stand, I can move on to manage the situation. I’ve decided, for instance, that the non-profit I’m volunteering for is quite disorganized. I will, then, write proposals for every step of the way and will have them sign. That way, we will all know what to expect. Were they more organized, perhaps I wouldn’t need to be so extreme. But they just are who they are, and I can’t change them. I can just manage my relationship with them.

Spending energy being too happy or too sad about anyone or anything is a waste of energy, I think. Better to live knowing that dealing with both friends and foes is a fact of life. And when foes show up, they need to be managed, not run away from or fought.

Most people probably learn that stuff in kindergarten, or just from their parents growing up. Some of us, though, learn in our 40’s. Better than never.

This past week, I found much comfort on telling myself that life just is. Things just are. People just are. Situations just are. The second I remember that, all the pressure seems to go away, for some reason. Maybe it is that I no longer need to be speculating, trying to predict the future, reach conclusions. I just have to be.

Anger & Control

2009-11-17T18:43:00.000-08:00

Today I had a meeting with the manager of the non-profit I’ve been referring to in previous posts. Thankfully, we have clarified all the misconceptions. The woman that was my contact has, for now, been set aside, at least for technical issues.

The problem is that her technical abilities are so minimal, that most of our discussions over the past few weeks went over her head. Then she went to her manager to pass information she made up. No wonder I was so furious. Instead of helping, this person has been a stumbling block.

But I learned a few things about me during the process and will continue to learn, I’m sure.

Excessive anger and aggression

Went I become furious, even in the middle of it all, I can see that the amount of anger is excessive. I can feel the emotion in my bones, even. Then, I carefully consider the situation, and it doesn’t look like a big deal. But I seem unable to control the deep fury.

Husband and I went to Bellingham, Washington, yesterday, to pickup a pressure canner I ordered from Wal-Mart, and for which I chose store pickup. We made it into a day trip and, among other things, we went browsing to a couple of second-hand bookstores. I wasn’t even looking in the self-help section when my eyes found a book that I never even picked up. The title was, “Why are you so defensive?”

At that moment, I had an aha moment and answered the question. “Because I think everybody is attacking me.”

I knew that I had that problem, but I never connected it to anger. All of a sudden, however, I realized why I hate it when the phone rings, or why, when I am employed, I dislike being called to a meeting, or why I’m distraught when the doorbell rings. I never expect good news. What I always get is a heavy feeling that I’ll be told off, that I’ll be wrongly accused of slacking off, that I will be required to do something I don’t want to do, or at the very least, that I’ll have to talk to someone I’ve been avoiding.

Of course, it all originates in my childhood, when Mom worked very hard at finding something wrong with me, because she just had to find something. She thought that being a good mother was to help me be always perfect.

It follows that I’ve lived my entire life under the microscope, thinking that everybody is watching me closely and rating my performance. Good thing that I took God out of the equation already, but now I have to deal with my fear of everyone else.

I know that I have to take the gloves off. But I also need an attitude correction. I need to somehow convince myself that the entire humanity isn’t out to get me, ready to give me a low performance review. I must stop defending myself. And, quite honestly, I have no idea how to do it. I was trained, like a lab rat, to defend myself, and I don’t know how to stop it.

That’s one of my issues. The other one is control (that little bugger keeps showing up everywhere).

Control

When you think you have to be perfect to succeed in the world, you need to control all the small details in order to put out a perfect performance.

It’s almost like a mental illness, because you’re under the mistaken belief that it is imperative that you be flawless. And you’re so afraid of being found in error that you try to control everything around you, so that what you’re trying to do comes to pass with flying colours.

If for the plan to work I need my husband to speak to his mother, for instance, then I insist tirelessly that he speaks to her. And when he fails to follow my wishes, I will be angry, very angry, because now I will look deficient, and I want to appear perfect.

I find it frustrating that, when seen with a cool head, it is quite evident that the behaviour is dysfunctional. But when in the heat of a situation, it is so hard to stop the emotions from erupting.

The woman I’ve been referring to makes me angry, because she won’t use e-mail and calls me at all hours of the day, even at supper time. It is reasonable that her calling would make me uncomfortable. What’s unreasonable is the large amount of uncontrollable anger I feel. And the reason for that is that I can’t control what she does. I have told her to e-mail me, but she doesn’t get it. Now, if I could just turn her into a robot who does exactly as I say, wouldn’t that be heaven? (Smirk)

Even when at the intellectual level I know that others aren't robots whose life mission is to obey me, it still angers me when they don't do as told. What can I say? When my emotions catch up with my head, it will be a jolly day.

The other issue I've seen up close and personal in the last few days is the hidden ways in which I can be judgmental. I will tackle that one on my next post.

If you’re ever only extremely happy or depressed, clap your hands

2009-11-15T19:41:00.000-08:00

Nowadays I am more eager than ever to experience my feelings and to pay careful attention to the progression of my emotions during troubled times.

As per my previous post, I went through an incident last night, which sent me back down to the pit of despair all over again. But I was watching myself through it all.

Earlier on the day, I had gone to meet the one woman at the non-for-profit I’ve been dealing with, another volunteer. I was surprised that we had a pleasant interchange, because I couldn’t stand her at the beginning, a few weeks ago. I didn’t like that she was calling me at all hours, including supper time, for insignificant issues that could have easily been dealt with via e-mail.

With a heavy heart, I met her at a McDonald's yesterday, fully prepared for the worst. She turned out to be a very nice person, easy to talk to, with much in common with me. I even entertained the idea that we could coffee sometimes and even become friends.

The meeting was highly productive, I came home really happy, and was on a “high” until I received that disturbing e-mail in the evening, when I went on a severe “low.” I was angry, sad, discouraged, and all of that. I continued to watch myself.

I first felt the anger. I closed my eyes and let myself feel all the force of the anger. I could feel it coming out of my ears. That sent me quickly to the sadness stage. Good thing. Sometimes I stay angry for days. Then I decided to shut down my e-mail until I felt better. For 24 hours I worked on making myself happy. It was hard, but I felt better finally. I did it by solving a problem that had been distressing me with another website I’m working on. After that, I felt brave enough to open my e-mail.

There was an e-mail there from the woman. In short, She said sorry for the misunderstanding and thank you for the help.

I felt so relieved that I went on another “high.” So, so happy I could’ve gone around the block hope skipping. Thankfully, I had enough sense to notice that I did need to settle down. I accomplished that by popping a Midsomer Murders DVD on the computer and watching it from beginning to end.

Note to self: watch a movie next time you need to calm down. It works because it takes your mind completely away from self and focuses it somewhere else.

I do not believe I’m manic depressive, ‘cause I have a friend who is, and I know how much more extreme and lengthy the bipolar stages are. But I do experience some aspects of it, I think. Why do I rarely feel just good, or at peace? Why do I have to experience those huge emotional swings? That’s got to be detrimental to my health. In fact, I had trouble sleeping last night. My shoulders hurt and I couldn’t sleep on my side like I usually do.

Anyway, I will raise the issue in therapy. I must find ways to manage those highs and lows. It just isn’t healthy.

Discouraged

2009-11-14T22:48:00.000-08:00

I’m very discouraged right now. I was doing volunteer work for certain organization, and things have turned out a little sour.

I won’t elaborate, but the person who was my liaison gave me the impression that she was in charge. She wasn’t.

I was supposed to be moving their website to another ISP, and when I told this woman that I was moving ahead, she forwarded the e-mail to her superior, and the superior is talking down on me—telling me how to do the move.

I’m upset for two reasons (1) the woman I’ve been talking to misled me, and (2) if they already know how to do what I’m doing, why didn’t they do it themselves?

I know that doing volunteer work is supposed to be good, in that it helps you gain experience and meet contacts, but this isn’t the first time that a non-for-profit's lack of structure has backfired on me.

I keep thinking how I could have avoided this outcome, but I don’t know what else I should have done to help things go smoothly.

Right now, I am not checking my e-mail. I’m giving myself 24 hours of cool down time before I talk or write to anyone, or before I make any decisions. Typically, I would just say, “You know what? Goodbye.” But that isn’t right.

OK, maybe I will say that but nicely. How about, “My health is acting out these days and I have decided to take some time for healing.”

Or, “I have taken a seasonal job and won’t be able to continue on this project. So sorry for the inconvenience.”

It would be different from what I’ve done in the past in that I won’t tell them that I’m upset and that they have wronged me. Instead, I will leave in good terms. What I want is to leave in good terms—as much as I can.

Like Ridding a Bike?

2009-11-10T12:13:00.000-08:00

I don’t know how to ride a bike. As a child, I never had any toys, let alone a bike. My job was to wonder around the house looking at the employees (a bakery), or out a window, and not talking to anyone. I went through a helping period when I was about five. The ladies would give me cookie dough, so I could make shapes and keep busy.

My brothers learned to ride because they used bikes to deliver pastries to nearby corner stores. But my sisters and I weren’t allowed alone out the door, for we lived close to the red light district. The “little girls,” as everyone called us all the way to our early 20’s, were closely guarded until we were about 15.

Once in Canada, I tried to learn, on my nephews’ bikes, but I couldn’t. Now that I’m married, my husband and I have entertained several solutions: (1) buying a child size bike so I won’t fall, (2) Getting a 3-wheeler low rider, (3) putting training wheels on a bike, so I can learn like children do.

I am too cheap to spend money on a child-size one. I know that, once I learn, I won’t need it anymore. I don’t like the low riders because I would be “down there” while my husband rides a normal height bike—it wouldn’t be fun. The training wheels always sounded embarrassing. I just couldn’t stomach the thought that everybody would see me riding around with training wheels, like a child. Since I rejected all my options, the project has been on hold for several years now.

Yesterday, though, I discovered a 4th solution, while watching a video of one of my favourite mysteries—Midsomer Murders—I saw a lady ridding a 3-wheeled bike especially made for adults. I fell in love with the bike. The back is so wide that easily holds a basket to even use it for grocery shopping.

Then I found out the price. It costs about $500. Ouch! Then I remembered my option #3, the training wheels, and thought, “If ridding around on an old lady’s bike isn’t embarrassing, why would it be embarrassing to ride with training wheels?”

It occurred to me that all the work I’ve been doing on disregarding other people’s opinions on whatever I do is paying off. For some reason, all of a sudden, I don’t care what others say about my ridding any kind of bike I may choose. I even think I could amuse myself with their looks.

But something more interesting yet will happen, I’m sure. Other ladies who never did learn to ride a bike as children will be encouraged to try my method. Every time I do something daring and strange, it seems, someone else is encouraged to copy me.

I still don’t know when I will implement my plan—next summer, perhaps. It isn’t too appealing out there for a bike ride right now. But it will happen. I promise.

Attachment Disorder

2009-11-05T12:53:00.000-08:00

What is attachment disorder, anyway. The Wikipedia article’s first sentence says is all: “Is a broad term intended to describe disorders of mood, behavior, and social relationships arising from a failure to form normal attachments to primary care giving figures in early childhood...”

I’ve been diagnosed with attachment disorder, and I believe I suffer of it. In fact, I think I’m the disorder’s poster girl.

I’ve explained the phenomenon to myself in many ways, but my in my favourite mental picture, I see an earth’s globe full of people and places. Outside of it, not in touch with the earth at all, I see my family. Close to, but outside of the family, I see myself floating around completely unanchored to anyone or anything.

My mother, like most parents in my country, have the deep seated belief that loving your children means having money to buy them things and to provide them with nice clothes and to send them to a nice, private school.

So Mom, a widow, worked hard, very hard to give us all-things material. Caresses, hugs, words of encouragement, and even togetherness were not part of her worldview. In fact, she went out of her way to teach us that people who are guided by feelings are wrong and destined to disgrace. For instance, a mother who saw her kid crying and gave into the kid’s wishes was a bad mother, she said. She was teaching her kid an attitude of entitlement, to have all wishes fulfilled.

People who drank were evil. Having children was a disgrace. Falling in love with a less-than-perfect person was stupid. Giving someone money was letting them rob us, and they would never thank us anyway. The world was evil. Everyone was out to get us. We should defend ourselves from everyone, lest we wanted to be taken advantage of, abused, or defrauded. Or worse yet, we could be disrespected. Heavens! That was the worst of the worst. Only one person could disrespect us: herself.

Some would say she was trying to protect us. True. Maybe. The problem was that she treated us like that as well. We were inferior, unworthy, disgraceful, taking advantage of her, out to get her, and were not thankful for her sacrifices. The brutal beatings and constant put downs were proof of her love, I suppose.

But, how does all this relate to attachment disorder?

She first separated us from the world, by creating an us-against-the-world, almost cultic image of our family. We were different. We were special. The world was out to get us.

She then separated each one of us from the family. She made us hate each other, by making us point our finger against one another, by having favourites, by making everybody turn against the black sheep of the day. We were all villains in her book, unworthy of her favour, or of anyone else’s for that matter.

I think my mother should be studied by scientists who are trying to figure out how attachment disordered children come to be.

The end result of her “sacrifices” is a bunch of people who think the world is out to get them, are unable to experience feelings toward anyone, despise each other, judge self and others, can’t get along with others, are deeply depressed, can be cruel with little effort, feel 100%, utterly alone in the world, can’t fit in anywhere.

I am quite sure that the greatest damage mother caused us happened in our first five years of life, though. She believes that babies should be spanked and left to cry until they get tired of it. Picking up a baby just because he/she is crying is overindulgence, she says. Babies need to learn that life is tough from the very beginning.

Frankly, I don’t picture her baby talking any of us, or spending any time holding us, or trying hard to put us to sleep. The iron woman doesn’t have it in her.

I think I’m a little better than my mother, but not a lot better. I thought I was breaking the cycle, but now I doubt it.

The world doesn’t want me, and I don’t want the world either. I’m so different, due to my strange beginnings, that trying to fit in is too much work. On TV, and sometimes in real life, I see people who actually can experience feelings hugging each other, crying on each others’ shoulders, forgiving each other, and enjoying the holidays together. I sometimes even tear up, and I want to have all that. But when push comes to shove, I am unable to experience it. When people hug me, I think they’re just feeling sorry for me. When I’m invited to someone’s house during the holidays, I feel left out, since they’re all mushily loving each other. I sit on my corner with my hands on my lap, wishing I could be like them but unable to be so.

Yes, I am attachment disordered. Yes, I’m different. Yes, to me happiness means being home, safe from the “dangers” of the world. I keep wishing I felt differently, but it doesn’t seem to be happening. I must try to find a way to live my life safely, on my own weird terms. Enjoying what I have on my own way. I need to stop looking out the window wishing for what others have. For I am not them, I am me—serious and distrustful—for better or for worse.

The thought of the day

2009-10-30T21:59:00.000-07:00

In the middle of my depressions, sometimes, an uplifting thought comes to mind. I've always said I'll write them down and never do. Maybe if I write them here I'll be able to keep the positive thoughts on record. So, here is my today's thought.

I keep worrying about all the bridges I've burned. It's as if I were ridding on a train, sitting on a seat that faces the traveled road, the past, with so many bad experiences.

I need to move, to sit facing the road ahead, so I can see all the other bridges, lots of them, that I haven't burned yet.

Social Life at School

2009-10-30T14:49:00.000-07:00

Reading mountainmama’s description of her social interactions at school during her teenage years, reminded me of what it was like for me.

What’s interesting is how different we were, and how the net result was so similar. I, too, didn’t have close girlfriends. I too felt isolated. I too have few good memories of it.

But in my case, it wasn’t because I was shy or trying too hard to make friends. In my case it was because I was a real Bitch, yes, with a capital B.

I already had an alpha male personality. I was like a boy, an obnoxious one. For instance, when I got a good mark on a test or assignment, I rubbed it in. I told anyone who would hear me that I’d done well. I wish somebody would have told me that people had feelings that got hurt by my behaviour, but nobody in my life was that wise. An argument could easily be made that I treated other people callously because that’s how I was treated at home.

When my girlfriends had a crush on what I considered a worthless boy, I would tell them so. And I would go on to list all the boy’s shortcomings. I was imitating my mother. In her eyes, most men were worthless, and every time someone she knew fell in love, she would point out he guy’s disadvantages. I didn’t know then how horrible doing that was. It was judgmental and cruel. No wonder the girls didn’t like me.

I was also weird, too, in that I was interested in stuff other kids my age weren’t, like politics. I was in grade 5 and already had an opinion about the president and the opposition. Everybody found out my opinion, too, since I would go around talking about it, caring little whether they were interested or not. I was imitating my mother in this, too. She had very strong opinions that she expressed to anyone who would hear her.

But I did want to be liked, so sometimes I was compelled to help others with homework or to pass answers during exams, so they would like me. But they just used me. They still couldn’t stand me.

I wasn’t entirely alone, though. The boys were there for me (not during recess, unfortunately). I was the boys’ best friend. We talked about soccer and other sports. We talked about music. It didn’t offend them that I was a show off. Some of them even thought I was cool.

Being close to the boys earned me a few girlfriends, who wanted to hang out with me to get to the opposite sex. That part was good, too, even though I knew I was being used.

It does seem that I was disliked for good reasons. Brits would say that it was bad breeding, and they would be right. I simply was taught no manners or compassion or ways to get alone with others.

The sad part is that bad breeding is difficult to shake off. Even now, in my mid forties, when an acquaintance tells me she’s in love with someone I consider below her, I think my face shows the disagreement. Even if my words aren’t nosy and judgmental, it does seem that my body language shows my true feelings, and my interlocutors are able to pick up the negative vibes.

For almost any circumstance, it is difficult to come up with something to say when you weren’t taught as a child. Living among people from another culture multiplies the problem many times over. More often than not, when faced with awkward situations, I have no idea what to say, and end up putting my foot in my mouth. I usually fail to fulfill expectations, because I lack a repertoire of proper, socially acceptable, neutral answers that would not offend or put the other person down.

Worse yet, many women expect to be comforted with sweet words and a hug. I don’t have that stuff in my repertoire. I never received that kind of comfort as a child, or ever. I would have to be a trained actor to play that role. It’s completely foreign to me. When I try to behave that way, I feel silly, stupid, awkward, inadequate, and more.

So, I am in my mid-forties and married, and the guys are still my best friends. But I can’t go to the movies with them or have them as my confidents. That probably accounts for my loneliness and depression. I can’t have male friends, and when it comes to friends, they’re my only choice. Bingo!

It is perfectly possible that being able to interact with guys is my strongest, yet unconscious, motivation for wanting back in the workforce, where harmless inter-gender friendships can easily be had. Guys usually have skin thick enough to deal with a badly bred, opinionated chick like me.

Love Happens

2009-10-25T22:08:00.000-07:00

My husband is away this weekend. He went to visit relatives in Alberta for four days. So, yes, I’m alone again. Completely alone.

His absence coincided with another bout of profound depression, brought about by my recent streak of illness. I feel like I want to be out there and do stuff, but I can’t. And I go back to thinking that, perhaps, I am being childish and weak and should tough it out like everyone else.

Depressed and all, on Saturday, I went out on my weekly grocery-shopping trip. I started with the discount organic store, where I buy organic yogurt and soymilk for a dollar or two.

Then I bought my veggies and fruits at my favourite Chinese store, where I can buy exotic tropical fruits and vegetables. Then I went to a waterfront village, to buy fish from the fisher people (I eat fish). I bought a large supply, brought it home, cut it into one-serving pieces, and put it in the freezer. I should have enough fish for many meals, while my husband eats fish, pork, or beef.

That snapped me out of the depression a bit. Doing stuff is usually better than sitting around feeling sorry for myself, especially on a wonderful sunny Fall day.

This evening, Sunday night, I went for sushi and then to the movies. The movie was Love Happens. I expected to watch a romantic chick flick, but it was a tale about a motivational speaker helping people who have undergone great loses.

It was very good for my little heart. I heard phrases and ideas that are healing for a depressive chick like me. I’m truly glad I went. It wasn’t a typical look-good, shallow Hollywood film. It was deep, and I enjoyed it. That the actor was so easy on the eyes didn’t hurt one bit.

I’m still sad. There is a sadness to me that I haven’t been able to shake off for years. But perhaps that’s me, and I need to learn to live with that sad person, since there isn’t very much I can do about it.

I’m glad I took myself out. I should do it more often.

Oh, by the way, the Japanese food was terrible. I was going to go for Indian but I missed it by mistake and didn't want to drive back in the rain.

Control Study

2009-10-13T19:29:00.001-07:00

I spent the weekend at a curling tournament, watching the best curlers in the world. All for $25. I couldn't believe my luck.

But doing that meant eating take out. And I ate lots of it, including plenty of flour-made products, like muffins, sandwiches, and what not.

Sure enough, the sinus infection is back, and I even think I have a fever. My entire body hurts, I have a sore throat, and my glands are swollen. Also, the intestinal problems are back, as in lots of trips to the bathroom.

That means that I have to live for the rest of my life eating no bread or pastries of any kind. Pork, beef, and lamb have the same effect, so fish, vegetables, and fruit should be my diet.

And there isn't even a God to get mad at.

Misery

2009-10-09T23:16:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling miserable for a couple of days. Ever since I started linking in with former co-workers on linkedin.com.

There are several reasons why that makes me miserable.

It reminds me of the horrible person I used to be, and that I can sometimes be, when I turn into my mother. I know all those co-workers know how good I was technically, but they also remember how intolerant and difficult to work with I was. I can only hope they feel sorry for me. It was that bad. We were friendly when we were co-workers, but my inferiority complex when it comes to interpersonal relationships, especially those in my past, is alive and well.

I know I have to forgive myself, and I have. But I can't expect that other people are going to forgive me, too.

It also makes me miserable to see that even those co-workers who were under-performers are out there with a career in technology, and I'm not. It is very hard to swallow.

But, even though I feel terrible, I think it's a good thing that social media gives me the change to sneak my nose out there and see where everyone is and what they're doing. Imagine that! In the past, when we lost touch with former acquaintances, our chances of finding them again were minimal, unless we kept in touch.

Nowadays, you can go to linkedin.com, search by name, and there they are. You can know where they've been working since you saw them last, and what they're doing right now. If I hadn't been so hard to work with, that would be a mine of contacts for me. I could probably get myself a job on the spot. But that isn't the case. My business manners were bad, and now I have to live with it.

I think it is healthy to face reality and process all those memories. It takes me to a place of acceptance. I can acknowledge that I was a real bitch, and look at reality straight on the face. All these years I've been locked in the house because I didn't want to see that face. It was easier to hide. But now I am out there.

I was also embarrassed that they would find out what kind of a loser I had turned out to be. But the truth is out there now. I can't hide anymore.

So yes, I am miserable these days. The pariah complex is back to haunt me, and I have to live with it, bravely so.

It reminds me of the time I sent a letter to a gentleman confessing my love for him. He said he didn't feel the same way. But the next time I saw him, I had to walk by him with my chin up. About six months later, I met my lovely husband.

Career wise, I am trying to talk nicely to myself. I am saying, "That was the first half of your life, now you can be different in the second half. You don't need those people who know your past to start a new life, other than using a couple of the nicest ones as references. Use this challenge as motivation to get out there and reclaim your career."

I really can use the motivation. Up to a couple of weeks ago, the motivation was that my husband was going to lose his job. I can't use that one anymore. Maybe I can tell myself that I need to get out there and make some new, positive contacts that I can look to, in the future, proudly.

Right now, my eyes are dry but my heart bleeds. It bleeds from a lifetime of ruined relationships and opportunities. I'm going to believe that there is another opportunity out there for me. I have to believe. I have no choice.

I just hope that my body will hold up. This is a lot to handle.

Health bits and stuff

2009-10-07T19:07:00.000-07:00

I noticed recently that I always forget the “tricks” I came up with the last time I was really sick, so I’ve decided to write them down.

When I had the sinus infection, I completely forgot that washing my sinuses with saline using a syringe is tremendously effective. I would’ve saved lots of pain if I had remembered.

The humidifier is great, too, but I don’t like to “steam” the furniture, so I had to sleep in the guest room with all the stuff covered with blankets. It wasn’t fun at all. The bed there isn’t nearly as comfy as our bed, plus my man hates to sleep alone.

I had a good excuse for ending up at the ER when I had that horrible stomachache. After all, I wasn’t home. Had I been home, I would’ve made tea of fennel seeds, cumin seeds, ginger, and lemon. It would have cured me in a snap.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a trick for lower back pain, but I have noticed that walking slowly helps. Like I told my husband last night, the problem for me is bending down. If I do it too much, then I hurt my lower back, and once I’ve done it, I shouldn’t sit too long.

I need to keep moving, gingerly so. That’s what I do in the morning, upon getting up, when I’m sore the most. I just move slowly for a little while. It really helps.

I am feeling a bit better today, thank goodness. Only my lower back is hurting a bit.

But I am mentally preparing myself for a weekend alone. My husband is going to his parents for Thanksgiving. He’ll be gone from Friday to Monday. I’ll miss him a lot. But I prefer to miss him that to come back emotionally wounded from being around my M-I-L for that long. She’s one of those people with a nasty personality. Her words and mannerisms hurt even when she is trying to be nice.

I’ll find something to do. I need to refresh my Javascript and PHP so I can include them on my resume, anyway. My job options are becoming clear to me. Getting out there really helps, as much as I hate it.

Yesterday, I went to a local bloggers meeting. I was surprised to learn that it was a combined get together to celebrate the launching of a free newspaper in the area. So I got to the pub and found lots of people standing up and talking. Not knowing anyone, I stood there for a few minutes. I think I had an anxiety attack, feeling stupid to have gone all the way downtown for that.

I am not the kind of person who enjoys loud parties full of strangers. I like small quiet parties. So, I decided to go home after about three minutes. But at the elevator, I met the person who had invited me. I went back to the party and stayed for about 30 minutes, talked to a total of six people, collected a couple of business cards, and left.

I told myself that I will not put myself through that for too long. A few minutes is OK to start, as I get better, I may stay longer.

The purpose of being there was to find out if I can work in social media and other technologies, but if I have to endure social gatherings like that one constantly to make connections, I may want to think of something else. I like quiet. Few people. Space to think. Noise isn’t for me.

Anyway, thanks for listening.

Sick. Again?

2009-10-02T22:18:00.000-07:00

I am sick again, and I can’t believe it. I honestly can’t. What on earth is wrong with me?

About three weeks ago, I was disabled by a brutal sinus infection. Then, last Saturday, husband and I worked on the shed. He is making it bigger. So I helped, screwing boards, nailing shingles on the roof, carrying stuff, etc. After 12 hours of that, I was dead tired. I told him that I felt like an Israelite in Egypt, and that he was the slave driver.

Early on Sunday we headed to Victoria, BC, to a British Museum exhibit. It was awesome, because it had a little bit of several cultures through time, up to the present. There was a replica of the Rosetta stone. I will write something on the other blog about aha moments I had while going through the exhibit.

That night, at about midnight, I woke up with abdominal pain, suffered in silence for two hours, and then woke my husband up and asked him to take me to the ER. Shaking in pain, I even had trouble talking and putting my clothes on.

We finally left, and just before arriving at the hospital, I threw up. After that, the pain faded slowly, and since the ER was busy, we headed back to the hotel after a few hours, having never seen a Dr. So, I don’t know what happened.

Thursday night (yesterday), I was picking up stuff off the floor in the bathroom, and when I stood up, my lower back hurt like crazy. I could hardly walk. But I went to the gym anyway. I figured that the steam room, the hot tub, and the swimming pool would cure me. They didn’t.

It was hard to sleep last night, because turning over and getting up hurt. It felt (still does) as if I was carrying a back of rocks on my lower back.

Being sick continually for three-to-four weeks is extremely frustrating. I was happy yesterday, because I was able to catch up with housework. I baked two loaves of bread and one cake, made ice cream, cleaned the kitchen (it is reasonably large), and did the laundry.

I put in a few hours of moderate work, and I get injured. How frustrating that feels is hard to put into words. It sends me back to the reason I haven’t made an effort to find work all these years. I am always getting sick with something.

Is it possible at all that deep down inside I don’t want to be out there in the world struggling to earn a living like every one else? Am I unconsciously making myself sick?

I doubt it. I want to be healthy so bad that, for the last three months, I’ve become a vegetarian. I’ve been eating my fruit and my vegetables and doing everything in my power to feel better. But I am not feeling better. I’m feeling worse.

It’s so frustrating that I’ve been thinking that I will surrender my fibroid-filled uterus to the knife, hoping that it is some fibroid which is pressing a nerve and causing the pain. Women who have gone through the change already don’t know how good they have it.

In the last two-or-three days, I’ve gone back to feeling sorry for myself. Most careers don’t appeal to me, and I just want to stay home and away from people.

Professionals I’ve been having information interviews with tell me that the way to get into any field is via networking. I’m supposed to be out there talking to all kinds of people telling them what I can do, and I don’t feel like doing that at all.

Is there a career that suits depression-prone people? I think there is: computer programming. Maybe I was in the right career all along. Maybe I should go back to that. But Husband was surprised to hear me say that. He knows how much I love writing.

Maybe just maybe, I will rest my thoughts for a week and see how I feel then. I shouldn’t be trying to make decisions when my spine hurts from top to bottom, my lower back is sore from hip to hip, and my feet and my arms hurt for whatever reason.

It just occurred to me that maybe I should see a doctor. Trouble is that I don’t trust them, but I will go tomorrow anyway. At least whatever I’m feeling will be on record, and perhaps they can eventually put the puzzle together and tell me what is wrong with me.

But, I always decide to go to the doctor at night and change my mind in the morning. Let’s see what mood the morning finds me in.

OK, They Like Him

2009-09-22T13:08:00.000-07:00

My husband's contract that was supposed to end in April has been extended for the third time, for six more months.

The deal is that his position was taken over by another department at the university, and that department posted the position, at a much lower salary, and my husband applied for it.

After a three-month process, he's been told that he is on probation with the new department for six months--keeping his salary. At that time, the job will be posted again, and if they like his performance so far, he will be given a permanent job at the university.

As I told my husband, I think they want to pay him more, and when the job gets re-posted, the salary will be higher. They can't just pay him more right now on a permanent position, because there is a union involved, and they have to be careful to follow procedure.

At any rate, the whole enchilada has affected me at several levels. When he first told me in March that he only had one month of contract left, I thought I was going to die.

Then I considered the possibility of going back to the workforce and have been thinking/planning for it since. I've been doing all this, basically, with a gun over my head: I work or else.

I know now that my husband will probably work at the university for the rest of his career. It's a great place to work (five weeks of holidays a year, one of them being around Christmas). Benefits are great and the work environment is excellent. This is the first time in his career that he doesn't have to carry a pager and constantly get up in the middle of the night to fix problems.

But I just went through a Career Exploration course with a cloud over my head--will he be employed in October or not?

I don't believe I was thinking clearly. Now I probably am. It almost feels like I need to go through the course again, taking the new knowledge into account.

In other words, without the pressure of having to work, I don't know what to do. I need to redefine my needs and desires now that I am not under duress.

It occurs to me that I should get a volunteer position on each of my areas of interest, just to see how much I like doing the jobs. Perhaps I should contact organizations with the volunteer idea in mind.

Wow! Writing this has been helpful. If anybody reads it, thank you for your patience. This is one of those rare occasions when I just write without an outline. This is journaling at its best.

They like him -- They like him not

2009-09-15T21:46:00.000-07:00

So husband may lose his job in two weeks or he may not.

If he loses it, he has to start looking for work. He hasn’t yet. Why?

Because he works at a major university and he wants to stay there. The benefits are awesome. Plus, he isn’t very good at looking for work while still employed--or ever.

The gig is actually ending at the end of September, his contractor gig, that is. But the position will become permanent, under a different department, and he’s applied for it.

They were supposed to tell him last week. They haven’t said anything yet. But a higher up told him the rumor is that he’s been chosen. Nobody can figure out why my husband hasn’t been told yet.

What does all this mean to me?

If he keeps his job, I’ll have great benefits and the guarantee of an income. We can perfectly live happily ever after with that money. So it does mean a lot to me. No wonder I am in such agony.

It will also mean that I'll have time for a little retraining before the economy bounces back and I start seriously looking for work. What I’m thinking I’ll do is volunteer in my areas of interest, just to see what it is that I like doing for work.

If he doesn’t get the job, I’ll have to look for work immediately, doing anything. I may still take a few courses, but I will be depleting our savings and that makes me nervous.

Also, the anxiety of not knowing when he’ll work again may set my fight-or-flight response in high gear, making me hard to live with and jeopardizing my already fragile health.

Our anxiety level is very high right now. We can’t make any plans. We can’t look at the future too enthusiastically, because we are facing the possibility of a long winded job search.

The good news is that his contract does expire on September 30, and we will know by then for sure. For now, I will have to continue pulling petals off the flower, “They like him. They like him not.”

Look Ma, no Hands

2009-09-07T12:45:00.000-07:00

Every time I see a little kid seeking attention, wanting to be seen, pulling her mom’s skirt, I remember who I was…in my late 30’s.

I had learned in counseling and in books that children who do not get the needed attention as babies and toddlers grow up physically but not emotionally. The love hole remains and we behave like children for the rest of our lives.

But it takes time for intellectual knowledge to make it to the part of the brain that controls behaviour—at least in my case.

It would be nice if when we find out the error of our ways we were also able to turn a switch off and act completely different. But, out of habit, we continue making the same mistakes, less often with any luck.

The good news for me is that I am finally acting like an adult, sometimes. I try, with some success, to save those unguarded moments for my husband and for therapy. But I can turn childlike very easily when I get too excited, like when watching live tennis, for instance.

My biggest problem is when people seem open and accepting. Then I open up, my childish behaviour rears its ugly head, and then I wear the unsuspecting stranger out. Then they’re sorry they ever started a conversation with me.

The problem with that situation is that it seems I should never open up to anyone, because I lack brakes. But being always guarded makes me an aloof, unapproachable, boring-to-be with person.

The answer is, of course, balance. But how can a person who received so little love and so much hate aspire to such precious virtue as balance? I don’t know.

All I know is that in an ideal world, I would have people who accept me just the way I am: likely to get super excited like a child sometimes, but able to be a sound adult with an enormous capacity to make decisions and to perform efficiently at others.

People who deal with me should, ideally, have the capacity to bear with my multiple personalities, also known as moods: quite happy and childish, extremely disappointed, very angry, deeply concentrated and on task, confused like a deer in the headlights (when the facts don’t add up).

It just downed on me that when an employer asks me, “So, Unrepentant, what’s your greatest weakness?” I need to find a nice way to tell them that I am moody and have extreme emotions.

I think I have my work cut out for me.

Make a decision to ... Control

2009-08-23T12:48:00.000-07:00

Make a decision to relinquish the need to control, the need to be approved, and the need to judge. Deepak Chopra

Actually, I am not really a follower of Deepak Chopra, but he has some great quotes. This one was hanging around Twitter this Sunday morning, and it outlines my greatest desires for personal growth.

My first reaction to it was, "Easier said than done."

But then I thought, "Good standards to have and excellent goals to aspire to."

Giving up the need to control is one goal I have managed to make some progress on. The need seems to arise when people are involved in self-defeating behaviours and, according to me, if they did what I wanted they would be so much better off.

I've been right a few times when I've acted on my controlling impulses, but more often than not I've been wrong, mostly because what I perceive as a difficulty doesn't seem so in the eyes of the person with the "problem," the eyes that matter, as it turns out.

Often people don't want what I think they do. For instance, if a friend is complaining about her boyfriend, I may think that she needs to be urged to leave the guy, because he isn't good for her.

In reality, though, she will only leave the man when she wants to, regardless of what I say. What she wants is to be heard and nothing else. If I speak against the guy, what she'll likely do is go tell him everything I said, so as to convince him that he's acting incorrectly, because what she really wants is to change him, not to leave him.

As for me, when I am able to catch myself trying to change a person or a situation and can talk myself out of acting out, I feel like the whole world has been taken off my shoulders. I managed to put together a number of phrases I tell myself when tempted to take back my old controlling behaviours.

"I am not in charge. This isn't my problem. Might as well relax and enjoy myself."

"I am NOT in charge of the whole world. I am not God. If I die today, the world will continue to go around just fine."

"I can't change this person. Changing is a personal decision that only the subject can make."

"I can either ruin my day by taking on responsibilities that aren't my own, or I can enjoy myself and let things be as they will."

" He (my husband) is too old to change. I have to accept him as he is and not let his idiosyncrasies bother me."

"People rarely change. And they only do so when faced with tragedy or major life changing events. At the very least, he/she will certainly not change because I say so."

"Accepting things as they are and making the best of this situation is a lot easier and less stressful than manipulating things to be my way."

"I know I can fix this problem, but in the end no-one will thank me. Instead, they will resent me for being manipulative, controlling, and hard to please."

"If the people in charge don't care that this is a mess, why should I?"

"It would be ridiculous to try to rescue a person who is unaware of his/her need to be saved."

"Don't I already have enough issues in my own life that need work? It is better for all involved if I let others figure out their own issues"

"Life changes people better than I can. I choose to let others evolve at their ow pace."

"Often what I think isn't enough is people's best shot at giving me what they think I want. I choose to be grateful for their imperfect efforts rather than noticing their short comings."

"Trying to fix people and situations is stressful and counter productive. I focus on my own issues for the sake of my health and my all around well-being."

"Going around setting rules and regulations for others to follow only made me enemies. If I let things be, I'll have more friends."

Tagged

2009-08-18T20:30:00.000-07:00

I was tagged by Starryeyed, and I decided to respond right away. The questions are great, and in a few months I can look back and see what I was feeling like today. So here we go.

What's for dinner? Tofu a la king, steamed rice, creamy coleslaw
What's the last thing you bought? Weekly vegetable and fruit supply
What are you listening to right now? The Colbert Report
What do you think about the person who tagged you? One of the most evolved women I know.
If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be? Southern Spain, Seville, maybe.
What's the principle you live life by? Come on Lorena! Let's not give up. Let's keep trying.
If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? San Salvador, El Salvador, Central America.
Which language do you want to learn? German & French, so I can read signs at museums in the parts of Europe where those languages are spoken.
What's your favourite quote? "Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear" Thomas Jefferson.
Who do you want to meet right now? No one in particular -- I'd love to see my nephew, though.
What is your favourite colour? Pink
What is your favourite piece of clothing in your own closet? Three loose, 100% cotton, elastic waste band pants that I bought on sale in Reno.
What is your dream job? No idea. Perhaps a job in which I use my computer and writing skills to solve unimaginable problems.
What's your favourite magazine? Sorry, don't read magazines!
If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on? A few movies/mini-series of Jane Austen books that I don't have, like the latest version of Persuasion.
What do you consider a fashion faux pas? Fat women wearing tight clothes
Describe your personal style? Extremely casual. Usually wear pants or shorts, stretchy, fitted tops, and casual shoes or runners.
What are you going to do after this? Will watch Criminal Minds
What are your favourite movies? Nothing pops to mind. But I love a couple of Jayne Eyre versions and the Pride & Prejudice mini-series
Which is your favourite poem? Sorry, not into poetry, but if I had to pick something, I would probably go for the lyrics of a Spanish song--more into music than poetry.
What inspires you? Successful people who don't necessarily make lots of money but who make money doing what they love.
What do you carry in your bag? phone, wallet, change purse, sun glasses, appointment book, lactose digestive enzyme, receipts.
Coffee or tea? Herbal tea
What do you do when you're feeling low or terribly depressed? It's been a while, but I would be likely to watch my Jane Austen-based movies.
What is the meaning of your name? In real life, my name means Lois. If you care to, you can find my name by reading this Bible verse in Spanish. Mine is the second name in that verse, if you can make it out.
Which other blogs do you love visiting? Too many to list
Favourite dessert/sweet? Salvadorean pastries, fried plantains
Favourite season? Winter, I sleep better when it's cold
If I come to your house now what will you cook for me? Steak. It's easy. But I won't eat with you. Vegetarian these days.
What's your current mood? Peaceful
Which feature of yours do you like the most? My brain.

The Problem with Trying to Please People is …

2009-08-12T15:54:00.000-07:00

That the ones we are trying to please aren’t worth it. The worthy ones don’t need to be impressed. They like us anyway.

So I spent nine days attending a tennis tournament daily. Our local tourney is played at the top-notch country club in the whole province and is quite possibly one of the best in the country. It is located in the area where the millionaires live. For example, everyone knows that the guy that owns the biggest chain of supermarkets and car dealerships—among other things—lives right there. Hollywood stars like Oprah have been known to own properties in that neighbourhood, too.

Not surprisingly, then, many tourney’s attendees lived in the neighbourhood. They were not dressed scandalously. In fact, if you see them at the mall, you would never think they make more than $40K a year, since wearing designer’s clothes and looking like a million bucks isn’t a priority for them. They’re worth at least a million, so why would they want to look it?

With my dry sense of humour, I was able to meet many of these folks, totally ignoring who they were, until it was casually mentioned later on the conversation that, say, they would go home for dinner—just up the street—and come back for the evening session.

One of my best buddies I met when I arrived early to a match, and the only other fan was her. “Oh, we have a crowd of two,” I said. She smiled.

“Are you cheering for the German guy?” I asked and she nodded. “I am cheering for the Latino. So, obviously the crowd is divided. Do you want to try a wave?”

I went on to sit with her for a few days. I found out that she’s been a club member for many years and that she is a tennis champ in her age category. She never once flaunted her financial superiority, only telling me that she goes to Wimbledon and other tournaments regularly because I asked.

I also observed other people, and talked to many others. Being the friendly Latina that I am, I usually start conversations even when I promise I will leave my neighbours alone.

So, I figured out a pattern. The pompous ones that wore designer clothes, expensive purses, and high heels were anything but club members, knew little about tennis, were stuck up and unfriendly, and seemed to be out of their league. In short, they weren’t rich people, they were puffed up wannabes.

In real life—as in not in a tennis tournament—the wannabes are the ones who make me feel inadequate, inferior, out of place, ugly, and underdressed. They’re the ones I feel I have to impress or compete with or please.

Of course, even though the topic here is affluence, the situation translates to all areas of life. The ones that try really hard to look smart aren’t the real thing either.

But my point isn’t to criticize those poor souls that feel so inferior that need to pretend to be something they’re not. My point is that I shouldn’t allow them to fool me. If anything, I probably should have compassion on them.

My sister for instance, likes to urge me to wear designer clothes and buy only leather shoes. The last time I said, “Why on earth would I want to wear designer clothes?”

I know that she has a million inadequacies and that she’s always trying to make herself superior to me and others. But I also need to remember that the real people, in any arena, aren’t necessarily the ones that look the part.

I want others accept me as I am, not for my appearance, and should afford others the same privilege. Furthermore, I shouldn’t be out there trying to impress anyone, because good, down-to-earth people will or will not be impressed by the real me, not what I appear to be.

The best way to go, I think, is to be who I am and let others like me—or not—based on what they experience or feel about me, not based on self-promotion (or demotion) or my hairdo, my purse, or my shoes.

This past week I was judged over my friendliness, and I seem to have done very well. I’m pretty sure some thought I was obnoxious and loud, which doesn’t mean I am obnoxious, it means they’re judgmental, intolerant, and possibly racist.

Being Myself

2009-07-30T12:12:00.000-07:00

One thing I tried during this weekend with the in-laws was being myself.

I wasn't going to try to be a tame Canadian with perfect manners, speaking in cue, and being extremely polite. I was going to speak as loud as I wanted, be as emotional as I felt like it, as imprudent as I can be at this stage in life, and I wasn't going to feel guilty about it.

I did it.

I decided in advance that being myself was going to freak some people out, and that was going to show how narrow minded they were, not how improper I was.

I did it. And it worked at several levels.

When I feel free to be me, I am at ease, as in not torturing myself with unreasonable demands. I am, therefore, happier, in a better mood, and find it easier to take people I dislike.

For instance, my husband has a cousin who is self-centered with a strong character. She reminds me of the high school beauties/bullies. The sort of gal who expects everyone to adore her and take all the crap she delivers.

So, I was polite with her, but other than that I didn't give her the time of day. Didn't try to start a conversation or befriend her in any way beyond minimum civility. The result is that I am not resentful and dwelling in anger as I was the last time we met. The idea was to send her the message that she had no power to upset me or make me spin my wheels on her account. She probably didn't even notice, but regardless, I feel good about myself, and that's extremely important.

There were also some European relatives who were very hard to talk to. I tried to be cheerful and friendly, but all I got from them was bewildered looks, as in, "You are nuts and we don't care to hear anything you're saying."

I ignored them, too. They came to my house and I greeted them politely, offered them food and beverages, but beyond that, I didn't feel it necessary to hurt myself in the process of entertaining people who don't want to be entertained. They're gone, I don't hate them, and I couldn't care less if I ever see them again.

With the mother-in-law I was friendly but firm. "What are you doing with the bread?" She asked.

"I am spreading it with garlic butter," I answered.
"But when are you going to do it?"
"In a minute."

She walked away from the kitchen. Maybe I was rude, maybe I wasn't. But it was ME for sure, and if she doesn't like me, she can stay the fuck away.

I truly think that the best thing about being middle-aged and pre-menopausal is that, at this point, life has taught me that people are either going to like me or not, regardless of what I do, and that's their problem.

Mother-in-law: Miracles do happen—no praying involved

2009-07-27T10:23:00.000-07:00

My late-thirties brother-in-law married a 32-year-old this weekend. Both of them are the youngest in their respective families but were raised differently. He was raised to obey. She was raised to command, with an iron rod, passively aggressively so.

I never did like this girl—I may someday—but so far so bad.

Always smiling and softly speaking, she knows how to say “no,” firmly, good for her. But in our interactions, I’ve felt a heavy energy emanating off her, as if she were saying, “Get off my lawn or I’ll kill you.”

When I tried to talk to her about wedding stuff, I got a half-smile from her, as if to say, “Who are you to say anything to me about my wedding.”

Things got slightly worse when she didn’t invite me to her wedding shower. It was held at the church and it was her responsibility to invite outsiders. I was the only female relative in town from the groom’s side and I didn’t get an invite.

We all have known for a while that she was heavily involved in wedding planning, changing the colour several times, driving even the groom mad. She sent specific instructions to my husband on how to dress for ushering (she thought it necessary to tell him he should wear a suit) and declared early on that she had to approve of my mother-in-law’s outfit. We all knew she wanted to have a great wedding. Messing up with the groom’s family, apparently, would help her have a great wedding.

Things started out pretty bad on Thursday at the rehearsal dinner. Her majesty the queen sat down to be served. I picked up the food at an Italian restaurant, rushed to the church to have it in on time, and helped the volunteers serve it. She never raised a finger, and neither she nor her husband-to-be bothered to say even a little speech to thank anyone. Everyone ate and left. We weren’t even introduced to her family ever—not even at family pictures during the wedding.

Heading to the parking lot to go home, my father-in-law and I saw they’d started to decorate for the Saturday wedding, and I said, “Interesting, we didn’t do any of that for mine.” He smiled widely and said, “Ah, it was much simpler.”

I laughed, and he started to recall how much he enjoyed our wedding. Score: Lorena one, new sister-in-law zero.

On Friday, the family got together at a restaurant, 18 of us. Slowly the truth came out. The immediate family was pissed. Husband’s sister started to detail how the queen had been micromanaging and driving everyone crazy. “She wants to have the perfect wedding,” she said.

“She can’t have the perfect wedding” said I. “I already had it.”

“Yes,” replied the women, emphatically “It was perfect and so much simpler.”

Our rehearsal dinner was catered, and we gave little presents to everybody who helped, from the pastor to the sound guy to the groom’s and bride’s people. Everybody was clapped at and sincerely thanked for their awesome contribution.

For the wedding, I hired a company to decorated the church and the reception hall, and to to take the stuff away when it was all over. For everything else, I assigned activities to a number of friends and never told them how to do anything. Even the piano player chose her own pieces, and the singers had rehearsals without my knowing. The ceremony was so beautiful that I made myself cry and when I did, many others wept too.

For the reception, I asked a couple of friends to do skits and never even asked what they were doing. An obsessive-compulsive friend of mine was given a list of tasks and names, and she made sure everybody did their job. Everyone did. I never did pester them. Never. And in the end, we had the best wedding I’ve ever seen. Our friends made it happen, particularly the MC, who is so smart and funny that went on to become a lawyer.

As for the current wedding, during Friday-night’s dinner we found out there was a schedule and that the happy couple would have five, yes 5, different photo sessions all over the city: a hotel, a famous park, outside the church, a relative’s house, and another park. The schedule even told the family what time to start driving to the last park, where we were required to be for immediate-family pictures. I told them I was giving up my immediate-family rights.

We were all bewildered at her micromanaging skills, and incredibly enough, now having a “common enemy” my mother-in-law, her daughter, and I for the first time ever felt we were on the same side of things. I told my husband that the queen was making me look like a saint and a genius. He heartily laughed.

Far from perfect, the wedding was underwhelming. At the reception, the MC did nothing and the guests left before final speeches. There was no entertainment and we mostly just talked amongst ourselves. I enjoyed it. But it wasn’t the perfect wedding she so carefully planned for months.

On Sunday, the whole family got together at our place, and it became obvious that the relationship between MIL and I had been permanently altered by all the mayhem. It is almost as if now I understand how she felt when I took her precious boy years ago, and now she can see that I ain’t so bad after all.

Coming Up: A Review of Easy Virtue, the movie

2009-07-20T23:28:00.001-07:00

I started writing that post last week and never went past the first paragraph. We've been working so hard in the backyard: fixing a retaining wall, repairing two fences (one per neighbour), and making a patio (after ripping off the deck).

It took sooo long. We've been at it since May. Good thing we had a vacation in between, otherwise we would be dead.

This week I have to clean the house spotless. Brother-in-law getting married on Saturday. On Thursday we have rehearsal dinner. On Friday we are going out for dinner with all the out-of-towners. On Saturday, the wedding--all day affair. On Sunday, I am having everybody over for a BBQ lunch--25 people give or take a couple.

It sounds busy, I know, but it actually is more that that. It's excruciating, considering that I have to hang out with my mother-in-law and that I'm feeling sick these days.

This past Saturday, I had what I think was my first ever gallbladder pain attack. I almost went to the ER. The pain is beyond belief. I felt as if something was being ripped from below my rib cage. But I didn't go to the hospital. Honestly, I have no time to be sick right now.

Instead I drank fennel & cumin tea (those Indian spices come handy sometimes), and it helped so much. On Sunday I drank dandelion-root tea all day and had only liquids. The pain came back at times on Sunday.

Today, Monday, I drank fresh vegetable juice, had a few grapes, and had my award-winning vegetable soup (with lots of fennel). My diet is so skimpy that I'm not sure if I am hungry or just have heartburn.

Other than heartburn, I am bloated, as if something is swollen inside, feel week and a bit dizzy, want to throw up, keep burping, and have menstrual-period-like pain. It isn't good, I know.

At least I've managed to keep pain at bay by not eating anything fried. That's what Volly said to do on my other blog.

Interestingly enough, keeping busy helps me forget about the pain. I wouldn't want to lie in bed all day, then I would really feel sick.

Anyway, I'll see the doctor on Wednesday. Already made the appointment. Told Husband that if doctor wants me to go to the hospital, I will go and the wedding can do without me.

Please don't tell me you'll pray for me. Try something more creative, OK?

Oh my gosh, talk about bitching! I don't mean to scare you but mid-aging sucks.

My reaction to Michael Jackson's death

2009-07-09T09:44:00.001-07:00

For the first few days, I thought the fans and the media were going overboard. That it was crazy what they were doing. Well, it was, but that isn't the point I want to make.

My point: why is it that I felt nothing?

Truth be told, the man clearly had no impact in my life: not positive nor negative. I like a couple of his songs: The dancing machine & Ben, but that's it. Spanish singers never heard-of in North America make me weep for a second when they die, but not Michael Jackson.

It took me three or four days to understand that the fans were hurting because they loved him, because his music did something for them, because good or evil, the man had an impact in their lives. And that the media was just giving the public what they wanted.

Two aspects of my ailing mental health came into play: (1) my attachment disorder, and (2) my inability to tolerate fault in myself or others. The two are quite possibly interrelated.

I am attachment disordered. Because I never did experience a loving relationship with my mother or my siblings, I rarely become attached to anyone to the point of crying when they leave or die. If you piss me off, I'll just forget about you and move on. And while that is good for handling abusive situations, it is really bad in the sense that I might as well be a robot, going through life doing staff factually and keeping my feelings at bay.

The worst part of being that way is that I suspect I do hurt when I leave people or they leave me. It is just that the pain is so buried inside that I can't feel it. I experience it, perhaps, as self-hatred or as a generalized feeling of "I don't like anyone -- no one likes me -- why the hell do I have to live in such a hostile world -- might as well just put myself out of my misery."

So, in a way, I wish I were like Michael Jackson's fans. At least they can experience and express their feelings. They aren't like me, this Terminator-like person who can end any relationship and keep going as if nothing happened.

The other problem is the inability to accept human shortcomings.

It goes like this: I meet a person and like them for a while, but the moment they do something I strongly disagree with, disapprove of, or just dislike, I drop them and move on.

Michael Jackson did many things that can make me drop a person from my fav list: heavy emphasis on physical appearance, a weird way of speaking, rejection of his own race by trying to become white, outrageous attire, child molestation rumors, buying kids so he could have children, living beyond his means, using drugs, etc, etc.

He just wasn't my kind of pal, was he?

But, does it follow that I would have to close my ears and stop appreciating his good music or my eyes and stop enjoying his dancing? Does it follow?

Why can't I appreciate a person with short comings and all? Wouldn't it be nice if I could look at what's positive in a person and see their faults as water under the bridge?

Of course I know where such bad habit comes from: you guessed it, my mother.

We could clean the house spotless and instead of saying, "Great job, girls. I'm so thankful you took time to clean the house." She would say, "You forgot to sweep under the sofa," and walk away dismissively.

As you can imagine, siblings and I followed suit. If a brother or sister came to me bragging of a romantic conquest or a good job at whatever, I would say something like, "Does she know that your grades aren't very good?"

If I came home happy I got an A at school, someone had to say, "Too bad you're so ugly."

If just seemed like, in my household, anything short of absolutely perfect was abominable. Of course nowadays, I not only reject other people, I mainly reject myself.

For instance, the only thing I dislike about traveling is that when Husband and I go shopping, I see us on store windows. He looks really good, if you ask me. But I see an out-of-shape, short woman with fat arms on the glass and wonder why the heck he stays with me. It just seems that, in my mind, men only love skinny, curvy, tall, pretty women. A little voice tells me that Husband settled for me. "He was too shy to ask anyone else out and you were easy for him."

As a Christian, many a time I prayed God would help me accept fault in others and in myself. But my prayer was never answered. Also, I've been in therapy for countless years, yet I still seem to keep my no-fault policy to relationships, and I hate it.

I wish there were a potion I could take at night that would make me wake up accepting of others' and of my own mistakes and shortcomings.

As it turns out, Michael Jackson finally did have an impact on me, with his death. Perhaps one way or another, his notoriety which led to the profound pain he had to appease with prescription drugs did help many people. He did, apparently, give those of his race new heights to aspire to and an ambassador in a mostly white performance world.

Maybe he will help me see that being less than perfect is a fact of life and that having faults is 100% better than seeking perfection. Cross your fingers.

Annoying in Good Faith

2009-07-07T19:14:00.000-07:00

I was thinking of my sister's annoying behaviour just now. All of a sudden, I realized that most annoying people do so while we are trying to be liked. Individuals who go about life not requiring approval and admiration are often fine to hang out with.

I think of all the annoying behaviours I'm trying to recover from: talking too much, constantly trying to bring the conversation to ME, being overly helpful (making people feel sorry they asked), providing unsolicited advice, telling everybody my latest breakthroughs (in cooking, self-discoveries, etc.), working hard to make a situation perfect (like a party), speaking evil of others (thinking others agreed).

All those things I did in the past in an effort to be liked, to feel that I belonged, to hear others pat me on the back and tell me that I am alright.

However, the effect on others was the opposite: I annoyed them. Most made an effort not to roll their eyes, but they did walk away leaving me there talking.

I have to wonder how much of what my sister does is an effort to be admired and loved. Yet she annoys me so much that I have no choice but to withdraw from her. I know that I should probably just tell her how I feel, and I've been doing so in recent months. But she just had a baby and she is "on hormones." This isn't a good time to be letting her know how much she annoys me.

So, I will stay safe--away from her. She is a bundle of anger. It is as if anything I say or do could make her burst out in uncontrollable rage. Perhaps she needs to be alone with her baby and figure everything out.

A murder of a sister by a sister

2009-07-05T14:05:00.000-07:00

I just watched on TLC the murder of a sister by a sister. For some reason, I feel that I need to write about this.

My sister, the new mom, behaves like a total bitch toward me. She is just plain rude, defensive, offensive, and always trying to outsmart me and out-know me on all arenas of life. Her life mission statement should be, “I want to prove Unrepentant that I am better than her.”

I, on the other hand, have no problem admitting that she is a person with many virtues. If she knows something, good for her is what I say.

I know why she behaves that way. She is just sorely insecure. Her self-esteem is microscopical. However, her behaviour toward me is unforgivable and I am not going to take it. I officially give her the finger right here right now. We are going back to business as usual. If she needs me, she’ll call. I don’t want her around me. If, like she claims, she has lots of friends, knows everything, and everyone likes her, then she will never need me and that will be perfectly fine by me.

The murder I watched on Extreme Forensics portrays a situation similar to ours. One of the sisters was a good person, taking care of her ailing mom until the day she died—inheriting all of her mother’s assets, even though there were ten other children in the picture. Though it wasn’t mentioned on the show, it is perfectly possible that the “bad” sister had been mistreated by the mother and the “good” had been preferred. Or like in my case, for some reason the “bad” sister just envied the other for one reason or another.

In the end, the story goes, the “bad” sister ended up living off the good one, receiving money and a rent-free home to live. When the good one got tired of being swindled and refused to continue providing for her slacker sister, she was murdered, placed in a freezer, and a fire was started to try to destroy evidence.

My youngest sister claims to have had a terrible life but, who didn’t in my family? However, being the youngest she has a kind of psychopathic sense of entitlement, as if the world owed her something. She is narcissistic in that she doesn’t have to deserve something for her to desire it and demand it.

Therefore, she envies me for having gone to university, gotten good grades, and having succeeded in my career and, in general, for being who I am.

She makes me pay harshly for being who I am, and that I won’t take. The woman on the show got literally murdered. My sister kills me slowly with her words, the expressions of her face, her attitude, and actions, like being best friends with all my enemies, such as my mother-in-law.

Fuck her, is what I say.

Health Issues

2009-07-02T20:02:00.000-07:00

I often wonder if I am just a sick bitch or if I am a hypochondriac. But, honest, every time I ask myself the question, I do a body inventory and more than one spot hurts.

Recently, watching the musical Menopause, a comedy, I started to laugh wildly when one of the actors said, "I never wake up at night. Never. How can I? if I'm not asleep" (or something like that).

After a few seconds, my laughter turned to tears, when I realized that it had been years since I slept through the night. Night sweats, frequent urination, backaches, headaches, or even anxiety keep me awake at night. To get about six hours of sleep, I need to be in bed for about 10 hours. Good thing my husband can sleep through earthquakes, otherwise he would've divorced me already.

But my most serious problem is the constant back/neck ache. My neck hurts all the time, and about once a week, it turns into a nasty headache. Why my muscles go tense, I don't know. The doctor said it was my computer posture, and the physiotherapist said I needed to exercise. She figures that because I'm overweight, I never exercise. When I explained that exercise gives me a backache, she patronizingly smiled.

My lower back hurts all the time, too. I have a congenital injury there, which I believe is aggravated by two orange-size fibroids I have in my uterus. Basically, my tail bone always hurts to the touch. When really bad, I limp.

I also have a chronic sinus infection. So, basically, my nose is always swollen, and it occasionally hurts. Nasty discharge is part of the deal, so I have to clean the area as part of my routine, as I do my teeth.

My teeth, by the way, are also an issue. They're quite separated and follow a crooked line, so food gets stuck all the time and causes me pain. I have to floss constantly or else ... In addition I have a molar that's breaking but the dentist has decided to leave it for now. The net result is that I cannot bite with my right side. Must chew all my food with the left side.

I also have yeast problems which can cause me rashes and itches everywhere, if I eat too much flour and sugar. There is a problem with my bowels, too. Constant diarreah which I've narrowed down to liver problems, because it becomes worse when I eat fatty foods. I also suffer of constant bladder and kidney issues. Last year, I passed a stone. But more often than not, I ain't screaming of pain, so doctors don't take me seriously. I'm given Bactrin and sent home.

However, when they did my physical last year, my health was perfect according to the physician. The fibroids were my only problem. Yeah, right.

I don't go to the doctor because none of my symptoms individually add up to a serious illness. I always say that if you're not bleeding, feverish, or screaming in pain, doctors send you home to drink apple juice. They never take me seriously, thinking I am a hypochondriac making everything up, but I'm not. I swear.

Some symptoms I can control with diet. But it is so hard to stay on the diet. If I abstain from meat, milk, and flours of any kind, I do mostly OK. At least my sinuses get better and the diarreah recedes. But try living that way.

Well, dairy products I can't have. I'm lactose intolerant. But if I dare, even if I take Lactaid, the sinus situation gets so bad that I become dizzy for days. Right now, I am feeling literally unbalanced. After having lain down for a while, I feel as if I am falling over--all because I indulged in all kinds of foods during our vacation.

So, in theory, I should never eat beef, lamb, pork, dairy products, flour, fried foods, or sugar. Sometimes I think that if have to live that way, then I'd rather die.

I try, however. I make my own desserts from high fibber ingredients and natural sugar replacements, cook without cheese or milk, and eliminate fats from my diet as much as possible.

I thought writing it all down would be therapeutic. Let's see if it works.

Growing up with people in denial

2009-06-17T10:54:00.000-07:00

The problem with growing up with people in denial is that they're all basically liars.

I think that, in my family, I am the only person who tells the truth. Perhaps the reason I am TOO truthful is that I had to compensate for all the lying happening around me. (I've been too truthful in that I have rarely considered a person's feelings when telling the truth. I have only been working on that for the last couple of years, so much learning is needed in that department.)

Interestingly, though, I just noticed, in the last few days, what huge liars they all are. I guess I knew of individual incidences, but I never put it all together and admitted it to myself.

On my previous post I wrote a comment about the blue room. They all said it was red, but I saw blue. For saying it was blue they made me pay, harshly.

I am currently thinking of the consequences of seeing the truth, expressing the truth, and being told it isn't so. Wouldn't that make a person insane? Isn't that a form of brainwashing? You get rewarded for admitting a lie and punished for seeing the truth.

What does that say of a person like me who went through the torture of brainwashing and didn't completely fall for it, or "convert?"

Personally, I think the consequence is emotional deformity--as in a metaphor for deformed body parts as a result of torture.

Another result is partial insanity or emotional dyslexia, if you will. In other words, the doubt is always there. Is the room red or blue? I am just not sure, because sometimes they told me the truth, so how do I know they were completely wrong? Maybe the room is purple.

Put another way, I think I go trough life judging everyone and everything. There is no such thing as taking anything at face value for me. The doubt will always be there. Are they right or am I right?

My perception of reality is skewed, yes. But also my brain works overtime. It's a wonder it hasn't actually burned as in a short-circuited wire. Always trying to figure out if things are as real as they look adds up a humongous layer of stress to my life. Right this moment, I feel so sorry for me.

I have to think about this some more.

Guilt from Teenage Years

2009-06-16T08:17:00.001-07:00

Traditionally, when I've looked at past wrongs, my default position has been, "It was all my fault."

I've rarely considered the possibility that other people's behaviour may have triggered my poor reaction. Perhaps a "mea culpa" syndrome I learned as a Christian?

When a teenager, I was--at times--a real bitch to my mother, and the guilt about that comes back to haunt me every once in a while. Most of my bitchy tantrums had to do with disbelieving anything Mother said.

She claimed something was dangerous, for instance, and I ridiculed her. Then she swore at me or slapped me.

I've come to understand, though, that I had good reasons for distrusting anything she said. She was a pathological liar. When she was sick, for example, and she was lying silently in bed, she started moaning the moment she suspected someone was around. She knew very well how to look as if she was dying.

I was only nine or ten when, every time she became sick, I looked at her, turned around, and mentally classified it as acting.

She also lied about many other situations. There were lots of stories she told that as soon as I started to think for myself I dismissed as huge lies. There was absolutely no reason why I should believe anything she ever said. The truth rarely came out of her lips.

One time she came to our bedroom, early in the morning, and from behind the ajar door said she'd been in a car accident. I laughed. "Yeah, right," I said.

Then she opened the door and I saw a two-inch bleeding cut on her forehead. I still feel guilty about that.

Of course, there were lies she said that I did believe. I am not sure that I have completely gotten her half-truths out of my system yet. Who she truly is and what her life has really been like I will never know. But it is little wonder that every time I mention awful stories from my childhood she denies them and gets really angry.

In fact, that's the main reason we can't have a relationship. She wants me to delete from my mental records every unpleasant experience I had in my life at home and go around saying that I was the happiest child ever.

It appears that my mother failed to make me into a liar like her, and she can't forgive me for that. Seeing me, I believe, makes her face reality, and she can't stand it, so she hates me.

Isn't compulsive lying a symptom of sociopathy? I think Mother should give herself to science. She would make an excellent subject of study.

As for me, it seems only logical that I would distrust every person in the universe. I find it incredibly difficult to believe anyone is trustworthy. I'm going to raise this issue in counselling, as it seems foundational to many of my troubles.

Fuck the brilliance

2009-06-12T10:57:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a family where people where illiterate by a developed-nation's standards. They went to school but didn't work very hard, and never read anything that wasn't homework.

I was different. Schoolwork was my entire life and read anything I could put my hands on. I got good grades, but I worked hard for them. Everybody thought I was incredibly smart, though, just because I thought algebra was easy, and they found it impossible.

I, therefore, grew up with the burden that I had to accomplish big things in life, go far, make lots of money, because I was brilliant.

It happened. I did lots of things. But it was a lot of work. I had to give my entire life to accomplishing, because truth be told, I am smart, but I ain't a genius. My IQ is in the 120's not the 170's. By North American standards, I am normal, as opposed to outstanding.

I have always suspected deep down inside that I am not that special, but I still carry the burden of having to accomplish great things on account on somehow being gifted. Well, fuck the brilliance. I am tired of trying to be someone I am not.

I am who I am and have accomplished what I have accomplished: no more no less. I may never accomplish anything in my life ever again, and that will (should) be perfectly fine. As it turns out, I am not Wonder Woman, or Oprah Winfrey, or any other woman that will make the pages of history.

I wonder if I can drop the "burden." Can I just be me? Can I, for instance, work as a clerk at a bookshop and do not feel that I am underachieving?

Can I accept that my body is broken down, aging, and achy, and stop thinking that I should be out there making a large yearly salary? Can I stop hating myself for not even trying to get there?

Can I? Can I?

Is that what I want, though? What the f* do I want?

Do I hate people or do I need people? Can I even stand them? Am I willing to compromise just to be with them? Should I develop some tolerance?

A person with so much shit in the brain can't possibly be that brilliant, so to hell with it.

Feeling Inadequate

2009-06-05T13:05:00.000-07:00

I have 50-something followers in Twitter, but I hardly ever establish conversation with anyone. I use Twitter as an information getter for breaking news of my kind: new blog posts by friends, breaking news, sports news, etc.

Once in a while, though, somebody will say something that makes me "talk."

A woman who lives relatively close to me (couple of hours) is one I talk to once in a while. She is a riot. I like her a lot.

Today we talked Canadian politics and she ended up confessing she thought I was brilliant. My first thought was, how do you know that? You've only read a few of my twitts. Of course, she's probably been to my blog, too.

But she didn't say it once. She said it again and again. And the more she said it, the more I felt like crying. I felt like saying, "Stop it already. I can't take it anymore."

Of course, I returned the compliment, but, why do I feel so inadequate when people praise me? Modesty aside, I am sort of used to hearing that. I hear it so often it isn't even funny anymore.

I have a theory.

I feel terrible to be so "brilliant" and to be doing nothing with the so-called talents, other than socializing on line and working on my career occasionally. I'll be doing a website for someone next week.

That must be it, because after writing that, the pressure I was feeling on my chest went away. I must get out there. But I find it so hard to sell myself. To go knocking on doors looking for work.

But, I am making slow progress. Resume ready. Business card ready. Website almost ready. Just need to print out my design and writing samples and I'll be ready to "shine."

Here is where I would like to say, "So, help me God."

Dreaming - Back with mother

2009-05-20T10:44:00.001-07:00

I dreamed a lot last night, but forgot most of it. I only remember my last dream.

I was back home with my mom and my sisters--no brothers. In her kitchen, my mother had the walls covered with wooden open shelves compartmentalized into little boxes, from floor to ceiling, like an old-fashioned pharmacy. The boxes had all kinds of fruits & vegetables, and she was cooking, and she looked very happy. She was even smiling. It was as if I died and went to heaven.

Our house was small, but we were having lots of fun. Or at least, I felt happy. I was married, and didn't want to go back home, because it was more fun to be with my mom and sisters--2 of them, anyway. The third sister wasn't on my dream.

I thought my husband was awfully boring, and I didn't want to go home and be bored with him.

----

My mother is a vegetarian, but she isn't happy. I have rarely ever seen her happy. My two sisters, considering all, are my favourite siblings. If I had to pick two, I'll pick them.

My husband is truly boring. Before me, he had no friends, he was in his 30's and spent most of his time either in church or with his parents. He lived at home until he was 33, when he got married.

I plan our vacations and suggest fun staff to do. For instance, on Monday--a holiday--he spent all day working on a puzzle. I didn't think it was fun, so I watched hockey.

Sometimes I feel that my marriage is only surviving because I don't work and don't want to work and he supports me, financially. If I were out in the workplace and felt secure that I can earn my own money, I have no idea what would happen.

Or maybe, if I were out there, I would need his strong support, and that would draw us closer together. That is perfectly possible.

Sometimes I wonder if I still love him. He is like a companion more than a lover. I don't yearn to be in his arms or anything (well, is not that yearning will help me get something). His coldness has finally killed my warmth. I may have turned into his mother, happy that she is provided for and trying to forget that her husband is a cold, distant house companion.

Dreaming - weird party

2009-05-19T08:47:00.000-07:00

I went to a party at someones penthouse. But it wasn't fancy. It was like an old building in a country like Spain. They were sitting on fabric chairs at a roof top around an umbrella-covered tables. There was no room at the only table for me. So I brought another chair and joined them. But the next scene was in the kitchen, where the others were. I think my sister was there. My husband could've been there too. We didn't know the host. But she knew us. She had a photo of my sister and me from years ago, when we attended the mega church.

Not sure if it was the same dream or not, but the guests and I ended up in a prison--a nice prison. We had beds, a kitchen, showers, etc. But we had no food. We'd been eating off my picnic basket which for some reason had some food in it.

The morning we were supposed to go home, a machine gun was discharged to wake us up early in the morning. All of a sudden, I had a handgun, and decided to shoot it, to scare whoever was outside, it seems.

That caused absolute silence, and then I was scared. I thought my shot would case them to kill us all. And I woke up.

Dreaming

2009-05-18T21:16:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream-filled night. I am planning on writing my nightly dreams to see if I can figure out what my brain is up to these days.

Last night, I was looking out the kitchen window to the backyard, when I saw a completely black eagle munching on some plant. I called my husband and calmly said to him. "Look there is an eagle in the backyard."

Later I dreamed that I was working at my first job in Canada, again. I left that job after a fight with my boss. It was ugly. In the dream, I went back to work for him. He told me to go to HR, where I was told that back then I'd been underpaid because a horrible mistake had been made in recording the category of my position. They made me sign something.

I came to work the next day, and my boss wasn't there. Some lady gave me a bunch of forms to complete, and I remember thinking, "They keep asking me to fill out forms, but nobody is telling me that they will pay me the money I'm owed. Maybe I shouldn't sign anything and find a lawyer."

Then, as part of my job, I went to some school's event, like a job fair, and I ended up talking to some lady about data communications.

Maybe my brain is trying to purge the painful experience. Who knows?

My fears - Shadows in the Darkness

2009-05-14T12:03:00.000-07:00

I am a fearful person. Just about everything scares me.

Psychologists have told me that my main problem is my fight-or-flight response to life, and I believe them. How can I not, when almost every little daily event causes my heart to race?

For instance, if I am cleaning the kitchen and look toward the usually dark dinning room and see a shadow moving, I freak out, my heart beats fast, and I start thinking that maybe there is a stranger in the house, or a ghost.

It takes me about five seconds to realize that it was my own shadow. Since the kitchen/family room area is a fishbowl, with tons of daylight coming in, my shadow can easily be seen in the tiny streaks of light that make it to the dining room.

I know all that, yes, but I still freak out when I sense motion in the room. My heart is beating just thinking of that. And there isn't much I can do about it.

Sigh!

Have to look for work

2009-04-20T21:30:00.001-07:00

Here I am again having to look for work. Husband's job ends in April, and I think this is a good opportunity to get off my ass and look for work. I really need to work for several reasons.

(1) I have very good skills, and I am wasting them by sitting at home just blogging, as much as I love it. I really need to get moving.

(2) In my experience, the best place to find friends is at work. We like some people and dislike others, but the chances of finding like-minded friends are much higher. I need friends. I need to love and be loved. My e-friends are great, but it would be nice to get together with people once in a while, for say a BBQ.

(3) I should look for work just because I am so afraid to do it. I need to defeat the fear. I need to defeat the inner voice that says, "you are worthless, you are never going to work again, no-one wants you." There must be somebody out there who can benefit from what I can do.

So, I need to write to a few people in several fields and create a network of contacts that will eventually give me a job. And I want to do it, just because.

I am depressed today

2009-04-18T21:52:00.000-07:00

I posted on a Christian blog to support a friend, and the f*g bastards managed to upset me. Now they're blaming me for being upset, as if a person had no right no experience emotions.

I am so glad I am no longer a Christian. F*g bastards deserve all my resentment and my rage. They are robots who only allow themselves to feel the feelings the religion allows them to. They figure they're like a radio and that they can switch stations at pleasure. Let's see, the Bible says that I should love this person, so I will love her. Now, the Bible says to hate gays, so I no longer like Larry 'cause he's a queer.

I can't believe that they're going around preaching a so-called gospel of "love," when they're so miserable and brainwashed themselves. I wonder what would happen to these people if I put them in a nice hotel in a city with no churches and no evangelicals around.

Would they eventually learn to enjoy themselves? Would they realize that there are a lot of cool, good, kind people in the world who aren't Christians? What is it going to take to wake up those people from the dream. I am convinced that reasoning with them is a waste of time, mostly.

One thing I know tonight. I don't want them anywhere near me. The creeps make me majorly uncomfortable. At this moment, I could even say I hate them, but I know tomorrow I will, again, feel compassion and understanding for them. It is hard not to, when one sees how they're wasting their lives for a worthless cause.

Cold Feet and Night Sweats

2009-04-17T12:57:00.000-07:00

For years, I've been suffering of cold feet. Well, I am 45, have fibroids, a chronic sinus infection, chronic back pain, and systemic candida (frequent urination, bladder problems, rashes, etc).

It is highly irritable that during cooler days my feet feel so cold, but at night, I can't sleep because I keep sweating all night. It so frustrating to be hot at night and cold during the day. What on earth is that?

Sometimes I think I should just call up the OB gyn and ask her to take the damned uterus out once and for all. How worse can it be? Can anyone tell me?

Wow! Did I write that?

2009-04-17T12:15:00.001-07:00

I didn't know where this blog was. I thought blogspot had deleted it. I just found it again, and it is interesting to see how far I've gone from where I was years ago, when I created it.

I am now mostly an atheist. I still like the ideas of the positive thinkers, but I truly think that taken too far can be as bad as the Christian crutch.

For instance, if I come to believe that my thoughts affect my life and others', then I am always afraid of thinking anything, and that's very stressful. So I prefer to live freely. Having happy thoughts is always a good idea, anyway. A positive outlook in life is an excellent way to live. But feeling slaved to the "doctrines" that say that thinking evil of others brings me bad karma, is definitely suffocating, and I refuse to live "in the box" anymore.

I prefer to try to be positive and to think good thoughts just because, without any pressure.

Ah My Relatives!

2007-01-03T12:21:00.000-08:00

Last week, it became obvious to me that people can only accomplish that which they are able to dream of.

I have a estranged sister. She was always following the wrong path and always hated me because I always did as told. That is, if my mother said something was dangerous or wrong, I stayed away from it. My sister, on the other hand, made it a regular practice to contradict Mother, seeking for trouble and disobeying at the first opportunity.

I went on to graduate from university, to have a half-decent career, and to marry a man that looked great on paper--and turned out great in real life too.

My sister married a loser, the son of a sophisticated beggar who made a living of visiting well-off people and getting monetary handouts and gifts of all kinds--my mother was one of the benefactors.

A few years ago, her hatred of me increased to the point that she didn't allow me to see her sons anymore, and she stayed away from me too. She convinced other friends and relatives that I was evil. Eventually, she withdrew from the world as well. I don't know why, but I suspect that they owed money to everybody and she was embarrassed by that. Needless to say, they were poor and miserable and expected others to hand them money for their survival. Not surprisingly, they are now divorced.

Last week, I saw my nephews for the first time in six years. I cried when I saw them because I love them very much. Soon I found out that they did not graduate from high school. The older one, 21, is married, has a child, and lives in a stinky basement suite.

His wife, perhaps looking for my endorsement, raised the issue that he should finish high school. I agreed, saying that even if he doesn't want to go to college right now, he may want to finish school so he can go to college later if he so chooses. He said that he had troubled thinking of the future, because as it was, he was missing $50.00 to pay rent, but he knew his brother, or one of his friends, could give him the money.

Then I realized that for him, living well meant swindling people for money and barely making the bills every month. He has never known a better reality, so he thinks that living under the poverty line is being prosperous.

What do I do with that? Sure I would like to help him, but I don't want to encourage his pitiful lifestyle. I wold like to open his eyes to bigger and greater things, but unfortunately, I aren't God. I have severe limitations.

If I invite him to my house and serve him an awesome meal and treat him like royalty, he is going to think I am showing off, or that he can try harder to get money off me.

I have started to understand why prosperity gurus recommend hanging out with richer people, to stay at fancy hotels once in a while, and to eat out at fancy restaurants when possible. If we do that, I believe, we will have in our brain the pictures we need to dream up prosperity, to create greater goals.

As sad as I am about my nephews' fate, I am also glad that I was able to learn something. As to how to help them, I don't have a solution yet, but I am waiting for the universe to let me know.

Trouble Deciding

2006-12-30T15:07:00.000-08:00

So I am between a rock and a hard place. I stopped working awhile ago thinking that I would straighten my life out and then get a job. Now, after two years of school and a few personal disasters, I still don't know what to do.

The theory of abundance tells me that I can visualize anything I want and that the universe will somehow bring it about for me. Well, that's great. I believe it, because when I look back to the major events of my life, they were all dreamed about. Almost everything that I have accomplished--or destroyed--started and built up with thoughts, so I have no problems believing that thoughts are energy which create one's reality.

The problem is that having been a Christian for the first 40 years of my life rendered me incapable of dreaming or planning my future. All those years I basically lived randomly; that is, not knowing that my thoughts create my reality, I thought whatever I wanted, and then obtained the results of those thoughts--good or bad.

Now that I know I can live with a purpose thinking the right thoughts and reaping the rewards, I don't know what to dream about. Anthony Robins and all the motivational speakers say I should dream of riches, of trips to Hawaii, and luxury homes.

Well, I don't feel like having those dreams. My only dream is to be happy. I dream of the day when I won't feel guilty about anything, when I will have a clear conscience. I also dream of having people to love and be loved by.

My problem is that all the motivational speakers assume that what a person needs is financial prosperity. But that's not what I need. I need emotional prosperity. I need to be strong and healthy inside. I want to be able to have friends that I can count on. I want to be counted on by others too.

Most people in my life, however, starting with my relatives, don't want to love me or be loved by me. They want a piece of me. They think I am rich and that I am fare game--if they need money, I should give it to them. if I don't give them any, they hate me.

Are there such people in the world who are willing to love me expecting nothing from me? I suppose for most people, those are the relatives. Most people have a mother who loves them just the way they are, but I don't have that. My siblings hate me, and I don't hate them, but I am sick and tired of them hating me. I don't want to be around them.

The trouble is, then, that I am unable to get love and acceptance from the places most people get it. Not only do they not love me, but they also dislike me. So, I am in the red when it comes to that. Completely in the red.

Aquaintances and friends can only give me a little, because their relatives consume it all: their time, their energy, and their love.

So basically, I am out in the cold having only me and my husband to love me. I suppose I am lucky. Other people like me are out there getting high or drunk, repeatedly attempting suicide, and unable to function in society.

I must admit that I am a close second behind them. I haven't tried to kill myself, but I think about it occassionally. I haven't been able to work in years, and I've been addicted to food.

It appears that in spite of it all, I've done my best to survive--though I feel as if hanging by a piece of thread. I am supposed to repeat affirmations that say, "I love myself," but it doesn't pan out so good.

How does a person with so little in the emotional "bank account" goes out to the workforce and takes the bullshit, the pressure, and the competition? How? It is a dog fight out there, and I am afraid of it.

There are miles and miles from here to being able to choose an occupation. I hope my higher self has something to say about it, because if she doesn't, she is not worthy of being called my higher self.

Visualization, abundance, etc.

2006-12-26T18:11:00.000-08:00

What bothers me about the Unity teachings is that they have taken metaphysical truths about the Universe, and they have tried to make them fit into the Christian mold. They have found symbols in the Bible for everything they want to teach. I see that as hypocrisy.

Why hold on to religion, when Universal laws can be accessed without a fiction book to back them up? Personally, I do not need the teachings of Jesus to understand that the Universe operates under certain laws that when adhered to, produce certain results.

If I constantly visualize anything, the chances that I will get that something are pretty good. It doesn't matter that Jesus may have used the same technique. Why would I, then, use name of Jesus? It only hinders my belief in the Universe, because such name was used in the past to force me to adhere to behaviours and doctrines that didn't even make sense to me. Other people believe the same metaphysical stuff, and don't wave around the name of Jesus.

My dream is to find a group where people will believe in the Universe independently of religion. That would be nice. But Unity is just an adaptation of Christianity to a pagan, metaphysical view of the world. Frankly I could do without the whole thing, if I could just find something else. But, what would that be?

About Me

2006-12-11T12:49:00.000-08:00

I left fundamentalist Christianity for good one-and-a-half years ago. The journey of deprogramming my mind from the black-and-white thinking has been painful and traumatic, and it is still going on.

I was religious my entire life, so in order to create a new belief system, I thought I would join a movement that was more modern and less severe than Christianity. In May 2005 I attended my last service at a main-stream Christian church, the following Sunday I went to a Unity Church--just for something to do. I wasn't prepared for what I found. Everything sounded heretic to me. But I also felt accepted unconditionally, and the belief system seemed like something I could use.

For my taste, the Unity church overly uses both the Bible and Jesus, which were used by main-stream Christianity to terrorize me. They said the book was divinely inspired, that I had to believe in Jesus to be saved from eternal hell, and that even thinking that Jesus may not be the son of God meant eternal damnation. At Unity they see the Bible as a metaphysical book, but I still don't want to hear about it. It may take a few years before I can really use the so-called wisdom from the book.

Jesus and textbook aside, the principles of Unity are awesome. I just wish they wouldn't need that to bring the positive message across. But quite frankly, I have learned to see past that and to enjoy the positive, enlightening teachings.

Of course, the teachings are not exclusive to Unity. What they believe is similar to what, say, Wayne Dyer talks about all the time. But famous gurus charge people big bucks for public appearances--I don't have to dish out much money to go to church on Sundays to meet others who believe somewhat the same as me. The somewhat is emphasized because I do not agree with everything that's said, but that's the beauty of it. I can be myself. I can have my own esoteric spirituality and nobody is judging me for it.

It might as well be a Science of Mind church or any other metaphysical organization. I refuse to profess exclusive partisanship toward the Unity church I attend, for doing that would be akin to falling prey to religion yet again. So I see these people as friends who allow me to believe as I wish and who accept me as I am. I love it.