That "freaked out mother" feeling without the baby

You know how mothers go around seeing the world as a terrifying place for the first few years of their baby's life but then a few years later they're staying on the bench and just shouting "don't eat dog doo-doo, honey" rather than nervously cleaning the park before putting down baby? I think I have that - not about babies but about marriage. I read the book, "How to Affair-Proof Your Marriage" and drug poor Dave through every one of the exercises. Exasperated one day, he said, "Hon, no matter what we do now, in the end, whether or not we cheat, comes down to one choice on one day and nothing can completely prepare us for whatever happens that day." Well, I thought him wise. I married him for being wise like that, but I still feel like that nervous mom running around looking for baby hazards. I still don't like his female best friend and I don't get why they can't just agree to do things in public rather than in endless text messages and emails. It makes me crazy every time that phone buzzes and I've been tempted to do crazy things like delete his account since it's under my name. And this whole Jon & Kate thing is making me worse, since the guy has a reality TV show focused on him and his 8 kids and he still found time to cheat on his wife! (John Edwards fathered a baby after his wife nearly died and while he ran for President!) It all just puzzles me.

But through it all, I realize the wisdom of Dave's words. There's no preparing for it. Who we are happens in the momentary details of our lives. My dear college friend woke up on January 1st to hear her husband announce that his New Year's resolution was to get a divorce. He'd been a devoted family man and now he is a relative stranger to the people he once loved. I don't get how it happens, but I know, in my heart, that it's all about personal choices and no one knows for sure who they'll be in 5, 10, 15 or 50 years. You just hold your breath and walk down the long tunnel. Maybe everybody cheats. Maybe the lucky wives and husbands are the ones who just don't know about it. Or maybe our society just over-romanticizes love to the point that we've abandoned all personal responsibility to our commitments, even if it means going without that hot, new love affair when life gets old and stale.

Poor Dave had on a nature program the other day about why men cheat - it was about the biological need to reproduce and the fact that human children are relatively self-sufficient after age 4, so there's no biological reason to remain with an old mate. I pitched a fit, of course, because it just reinforced my paranoia about marriage. The poor guy - of course that phone buzzed at that precise moment. I stormed off to bed with a huffy, "Well, tell her that, biologically, once I pop out a kid, she's only got a few more years to wait and you'll be ready for a seedy motel somewhere!"

That wasn't appreciated but the mean part of me just didn't care at that moment (and I still don't like the needy best friend). But I really hope that in a few years, I will be lazily enjoying the sun and just shouting reminders to Dave about the doggy doo-doo of cutthroat female behavior while he remains devoted, safe, and loving. But only time will tell, as the celebrities love to prove, time and again.

I am...

truly hating on the population explosion lecture that just praised us all for being so forward-thinking as to wait to try to have children until it's statistically unlikely to fulfill our biological drive all the while being so modern as to permit men to have their biological drive fulfilled constantly with no responsibility whatsoever....wait...uhm....feminism? Where are you?

I am...

living the literary dream as two roads diverge in a distant wood.*

______________________________________

I need to devote a whole post to spiritual enlightenments and scriptures come to life (How I met Simon the Magician is a particularly interesting story)...but this ain't it. Instead, just a hint of philosophy. Today, I realized why people no longer choose to see God's hand in their lives.

I was reviewing an old notebook from early in my work career at CHLA. The review brought back memories of various sacrifices I have made for the good of the company. I gave up most of the reasons I initially chose my workplace - the alternate work week, month-long vacation options, a fixed-time workday - because the children and the cause deserved my sacrifice. But something interesting has happened. Over time, my presence has become undervalued. I have given and given until I've given my all but there's a problem. It isn't enough because it isn't more. I have lost value because I have maxed out my give. As there is no more mountain to climb, the past has been forgotten and I have merely become a disappointment, a relic, a person not good enough to meet the clamor for more, more, more. And this...this is exactly what has happened to God. We have so much more than any other generation. We are protected and even coddled. So God has lost his value. He has not given us Nirvana. We don't really want our own choices and the world of our making. No. For him to have value, He must continually give more. He is not enough because He doesn't give more.

It was an important insight for so many reasons. I have seen God perform such glorious miracles for me and for those around me. I've been very angry as I saw people announce that God was dead for them, especially when He had just performed some marvelous act of love. In the meantime, I'm moving contentedly down my path. Sometimes, all the things that aren't of God seem so distant and unbelievable that I feel like I'm hearing someone tell a bit of fantasy with a lousy plot. I'm just so happy with where I am and what's happening. I have so little need for all the dolled-up things that I used to think were part of a happy life. I just want to hang out with the hodge podge of people with light in their eyes and dance around with happiness at all the miracles. For me, it's enough. That's all I know. It's enough. I don't need more.

So, as I see my road diverge, I'm not the least sad. I'm eager to see what lies in the sunny glade just beyond this murky wood.

*And realizing that much of what I once labeled "true love" was really just a vain attempt to prove my value to others through the dates I had, the money spent, and the jealousy I could evoke. How awful and empty.

An open letter to whom it may concern

I would like to go to the movies.

I appreciate your kind offer of a train ride. Or a zoo visit. Or even a romantic hike in Mexico. It's kind. Exhilarating. A few weeks ago, it would have seemed very important and I would have gone even if I am exhausted and suffering from a head cold. I would not have dared to say what I said. But I said it.

I would like to go to the movies. Just the movies. A simple night where my mind learns nothing and I don't even have to talk. I want to go to the movies.

I know it was shocking. I was so afraid to say no a few weeks ago. I felt like a caged animal whose only chance for freedom was adoption, so I worked hard not to be anything but pleasing. What changed? Well, I guess you could say, somewhere between a Picadilly Whip and a goodbye to Big Ben, I saw where the dogcatcher keeps the keys.

I have a future, you see. A real future. Me! Me who felt like she had stopped progressing years earlier, wasted all the good choices, and had 50 more years to endure. Now I know different. Now I have a future. I can be me in my future. Really! Me. Fat, quiet, and somewhat socially off. I can be that. I can even be a doctor. A real doctor. I can have children and be a doctor and work for Doctors without Borders. If today were my future, I would be arranging with the nanny to care for the children while I hobbled off on chubby legs to Myanmar. Yep. That is my future. It's a very nice future because I get to be 100% of value to myself.

You are welcome to come along, of course. I've been told it's nice to have a companion. That sounds lovely. But now that I don't need you for freedom, I'm afraid I've become a bit more strict in my requirements for "companion". In that I am not the companion animal who behaves so well in order to avoid a cage or kick. Some people in my life prefer only one side of me. Well, I'm kinda done with that. I will be living 100% of my future and expressing 100% of myself. I won't be hiding 75% and only showing off the 25% you like. I don't need to do that. Being single or coupled does not change my chances to have my future. Don't like my body size? I suggest you find a one-size-fits-all person as you pass me the popcorn I kindly requested. Don't like my religion? Well, if you don't like my God, you certainly can't like me since He and I are part and parcel, so you are free to move about the cabin and find a seat more fitted to your views so that I may read my scriptures in peace. Don't like my occasional bouts of sad quiet? I'm okay with that - but in my future, I'm permitted to be contemplative and sad when deep thoughts or complicated emotions seize me. I'm very good at solving my own problems, so you won't be needed to 'save' me. You may companion but you may not remake, reject or remold. It's unnecessary. I am perfectly well-suited for my future.

You see, getting to my future is a fun and easy journey. All I have to do is choose the right place for me and then my future will unfold. It's quite exciting. I have purchased a map and marked it up with all the cultural pros and cons that I know about each place. I will keep searching until I find the piece of rock with my name on it. I've been getting very, very close. I've been to a culture where things I believe are still somewhat supported. It wasn't perfect but it gave me hope. If I could find a place so close, then certainly the place where being me is perfectly okay is nearer with every passing trip. And I do love to travel. I have so many dreams that make me happy right now. I have a future. A reason for tomorrow. A reason for lots of tomorrows.

I'm afraid that future does not permit an exciting adventure this weekend. I would just like to go to the movies. If you would like an exciting weekend, I will be happy to hear how it went for you and whatever companion you chose. After the movie, of course. Because I will be at the movies.

What movie? You ask. Well, I want something loud and angtsy, so I think I'll go for Ironman. And then I'll come home and watch Atonement. I've heard its a lovely film for people like me who see the world in shades of truth & consequence. As I watch, I will think of my map and where I should next explore in order to find my future.

I have a future. A tomorrow. A place to be. It feels so lovely after the last several years of hopeless. Me. Myself. I. I have a future that will be happy and complete. I even get to be what I always wanted to be. Barring nuclear war. Or the need to evacuate the planet. Or getting hit by a bus. But that's all a lot less likely than me having a future worth living.

So, no. I do not want to hide behind your wishes for me or follow all your plans. I appreciate the flowers and feel honored by your attention. But I still just want to go to the movies.

The Proverbial Bus

Well, I didn't just lose the Oscar bet....I lost so badly that chipmunks holding pencils in their mouths had better results than I did. Of course...Cate cheated...but I would have lost anyway. I lost to chipmunks. And the orangutans of the world are doing nothing but pointing and laughing at my dismal outcome.

It's a sign of my times. I've known for a long time that Hollywood was done with me, so the inability to predict the Oscars just seems another in a long list of reasons to dismiss my childhood fantasy of living in Hollywood. So, here I sit at the proverbial bus station with my bags packed, wondering which bus I should get on. In the background, I can hear LA cackling at me - and saying that everyone comes to LA with a dream and leaves with a disillusion.

I'm not sad or even disappointed - just not sure where to go. School, work, family - 2 out of 3 I could leave in the space of a breath. I'm dating a nice guy but I don't even have the energy to worry about whether or not he should be part of the decision. Right now, I just want the Universe to hand me a pre-paid bus ticket. I don't care if it says Buffalo or Duluth - just to have direction would be an answer to prayers.

So, I continue to bide my time....and, thanks to Hollywood's anti-karma where I'm concerned, I will soon be posting yet another embarrassing story brought to you by the makers of television...because y'all had great ideas and I'll soon pay back that bet. I just wish the orangutans and chipmunks would be less smug about it all...

And then I'll get on the bus to Somewhere and start....something.

Ring Out the Old, Ring In the New --- Tennyson

2008...it was a year....

Of empowerment as I realized sadness can be prevailing but not depressive.

Of increasing girth as I gave up caring about myself, my career, and my future.

Of embarrassment as I finally grasped the interconnectedness of all human beings, for, though no person chooses to live and no person can choose the path which leads to death, we all, daily, interact and affect one another - truly no choice is made in isolation from the whole.

Of loneliness as I discovered that whether I choose righteousness or wickedness, the same solitary path stretches out in front of me.

Of anger as I begged the world to change my fate and received silent, form letter responses in physical and metaphysical manifestation.

Of self-blame as the Universe taught me that every element of my life is justice in action.

Of goodbyes as I dismissed childhood, love, hope, and faith in happy tomorrows, then replaced them with sincerity, honesty, and harsh, cold reality.

Of the end of dreams as I pushed the lantern holding my romanticism out across placcid seas of poor decision-making, an overweight body, and vanity that denied those who offered love during younger, prettier, more acceptable days of my life.

Of wisdom as I came to understand that the baubles traded in foolish innocence can never be repurchased with the funds of maturity.

Of acceptance as I finally stopped the tantrums and stepped into my own light, regardless of the fact that few applauded my move and fewer agreed and many, many criticized or turned away to let me start my long walk with so little guidance and comfort that I wondered how my feet took a single step - yet, so they did and so they will continue to do.

Of spiritual confusion as I quieted the many voices vying for attention and chose, instead, to accept only what my heart feels is true and my mind accepts as peace.

Of joy as I finally learned to live and let live and embraced the family structure that continues to shield me from the just rewards brought about by a foolish, vain, and prideful childhood.

Of awareness that every day holds choices and every choice opens or closes doors that will never open or close again and that there is no guidance as to how to know which doors to open and close, so all a person can do is appreciate the open doors of the moment while blindly moving to the next experience.

Of gratitude for the children God has blessed me to know and sadness for those I failed to make of my own body as I was told my time of fertility is passing too rapidly but society is changing slowly, so the love I get from my nieces and nephews is the vicarious representation of a dream I soon will also have to set out to sea, along with my hope for love and romance.

Of release as I stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon and imagined tossing each of these statements over the edge, to join 2 billion year old rocks that probably little imagined the upper crust landscape, just as I never saw in my past the future formed with each layer of experience.

Of forgiveness as I experienced God's and my own grace in order to let go of a million regrettable decisions.

And so, with an adieu to another year of harsh lessons and trials, I greeted 2008 with my sister's family to the tune of Miley Cyrus and Carrie Underwood at Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years Eve. With thoughts of my own childhood, I watched my niece mimic dance moves on TV. I asked if she wanted to be a dancer. She continued to move - I assumed she was ignoring me, so I returned to my viewing and reverie.

A few minutes later, she came over to me and said, "I don't want to be a dancer. I want to be a Just Be-er."

I looked at her quizzically. "What is a Just Be-er?"

She began to contort her small body, bending her elbow until it touched the ground. She dropped a knee and slid down as she raised one leg high. With her ear, shoulder and knee supporting her in balance, she explained her 4-year-old resolution for 2008.

"A Just Be-er is someone who just does stuff." She carefully but not gracefully extended her upper arm out above her head.

As she tottered uneasily, she continued, "See, I didn't know how to do this, but I just be'ed it. And now I can do things I never knew how to do before."

She toppled onto her back, giggled, and pushed herself to her feet as she said with simplicity, "And sometimes, you have to do other things. That's a Just Be-er." She skipped off to new amusements.

Out of the mouth of babes, I thought, marveling at the never-ending wisdom possessed by children under the age of accountability. And I decided that after the wild but momentary popularity of 2005, the emotional & physical crash of late 2006 and the ongoing sadness of 2007, I would make only one simple resolution this year:

In 2008, I Will Be a Just Be-er. I will do stuff. I will learn that I can do things I never could do. And, sometimes, especially if I fall, I will do other things. Because that's a Just Be-er.

And so I chose an old favorite jaunty pop-song as my year's theme...if only radioblog had a copy, I would post hear so all could be reviled by its simple chord structure and overly cheerful vocal quality:

I had it all lined up, then my future crashed.

I heard the deadbolt lock. And there stood my past.

And there are no songs for tomorrow on the backroads of my sorrow.

I could beg, steal, I could borrow...but the grace would have to come to me.

Gonna shake my soul and release my hold, giving up control, let the rest unfold.

Cuz it's a long, long way from here to where we go...

In the face that I wore as a child, I can see myself.

Every day of my life, I'm trying just to be myself, to free myself...

Ancient wisdom of the spirit, Ollie, Ollie, in come free...

And when the four winds blow and the rivers flow

I'm gonna rock and roll

Cuz when it all gets told

It's a long, long way from here to where we go.

--- Beth Nielsen Chapman, Shake My Soul

I wish all persons everywhere the freedom to become a Just Be-er this year. Happy 2008.

Still Working on Blog Gods....

I'm working on noms and awards as I sit in a public health theory class. The professor just recommended a book called, The Lucifer Effect, by Zimbardo. Here's a really great quote from the preface:

Finally, when most give in and few rebel, the rebels can be considered heroes
for resisting the powerful forces toward compliance, conformity and obedience.
We have come to think of our heroes as special, set apart from we ordinary
mortals, by their daring deeds or life-long sacrifices. Here we recognize that
such special individuals do exist, but that they are the exception among the
ranks of heroes, the few who make life-long sacrifices. They are a special breed
that organizes their lives around a humanitarian cause, for example. By
contrast, most others we recognize as heroes are heroes of the moment, of the
situation, who act decisively when the call to service is sounded. So, our The
Lucifer Effect journey ends on a positive note by celebrating the ordinary hero
who lives within each of us. In contrast to the “banality of evil,” which posits
that ordinary people can be responsible for the most despicable acts of cruelty
and degradation of their fellows, I posit the “banality of heroism.” It unfurls
the banner of the heroic Everyman and Everywoman who heeds the call to service
to humanity when their time comes to act. When that bell rings, they will know
that it rings for them. It sounds a call to uphold what is best in human nature
that rises above the powerful pressures of Situation and System as the profound
assertion of human dignity opposing evil.

When I lived in the Dominican Republic, a major hurricane hit the island. The dam overflowed and over 1,000 people were washed out to sea. I was working with a group of missionaries - good, young kids who came to the island to help the people in various causes. On the day of the flood, many of the people were on the banks of the swelling river, loading frightened people into a truck in order to save the most people. Heroes seemed to rule the day.

Then the river dried. Food was scarce. Our leadership - well, I don't know where our leaders disappeared to in those 6 weeks after the hurricane. We were scared, at risk, alone, hungry, thirsty, and vulnerable. Those same amazing men and women who had plucked children out of the water changed quickly. In the island shelters, stories emerged about alcohol abuse, violence, and an attempted rape.

I was sent to staff the shelter soon after the disaster. I am not known for my conformity. I threw fit after fit and blew the whistle as many times as it took. And I paid a heavy price for my social rebellion. I spent 8 months in open ostracism for telling the truth and stopping the violence. While the people who were abused loved me dearly, I never regained my footing on the island and I left a hated person amongst the leadership.

There is good and evil in every person. Most people live in the middle of the bell curve - their behavior is defined by the 68.24% of persons who fall in the mass of normality (however that is defined). However, there are tails on that curve - some people commit cruelty beyond the limits of normal behavior. They have a purpose, too. In some ways, they keep the curve out of the cruel levels of behavior, pushing 'normal' always back towards the benign areas of human behavior.

And some, like me, are never in the middle of the curve because we are not naturally social beings. Is that good? Can it be bad? Sure. But every person is needed to keep humanity on its course, keep us alive, and keep us all from killing each other. Read the book. You'll never be the same if you let yourself believe his postulate - and you just might be a better person for it.

"Without the aid of prejudice and custom I should not be able to find my way across the room." - -- William Hazlitt

This post has been deleted. I wrote it. There were a few good insights. Then I started to think about Jazz's recent post. She was posting about a coworker who goes on and on about all his problems and she said something akin to "the one thing all these stories has in common is you."

I thought about that. A lot.

And I realized that the one thing all these stories had in common was me. My messed-up life view. My problem. And that shouldn't clutter up the Internet.

I read some posts today and realized that many people who used to be very close to me are going through some very difficult things. My heart reaches out to you. I hope some love makes today a little brighter.

Love,

Glo

Pardon The Cardboard

My apologies for the brief interruption. I was moving from the green house to the beige house. I'm glad to report that colorful things can brighten the house - and an extra 400 square feet is always a welcome addition, even if the walls are monochromatic.

The boxes are unpacked and the old house is almost clean enough to be handed back to its owner. So, I'm wasting my night after a long day.

I've been vegging and watching YouTube flashback vids of General Hospital (I'm sparing you my most recent fave fanvid only because I deeply respect your right not to be attacked by my obsessions). I realized it's been slowly moving away from the expression of any strong emotion from love to sorrow. I wonder why that is...in a medium beloved for its over-the-top drama, why play everything off with the callousness we've come to expect from everyday life? Reminded me of something else - by keeping relationships shallow, we may learn to harden ourselves enough to avoid getting hurt - but we also never love enough to understand grief. What a sad, lonely world it would be if no one ever loved enough to ache over loss, but I see us heading that way as relationships become more disposable. I'm glad I will never be such a person. I don't enjoy grief when it comes - but at least I know that I can attach. I can feel. I can love forever.

Of course, Psychology Today would claim that's just further evidence of my drama queen addiction. Oh well, one man's castle is another man's cottage, I suppose.

The New Risk of Global Warming

The North Pole is melting. Russia, Canada, Denmark, and the United States are all parring for control of the "mineral-rich isle" that lies beneath the ice cap.

My question...

what will happen to Santa Claus?

And then time passed...

I have always been a self-contradicting kind of person. I was deeply shy as a teenager yet quite flamboyantly talented with a love of audience. I've had more tragedy than most people (murder in a small town, hurricane, flood, serious illness...just to get me to age 21) and more stability. But the tragedies have left permanent marks. A person learns scary things when you he or she goes through trauma. You learn how to "save" experience for later - just live in a kind of quiet desperation until you feel safe enough to cope. You lose huge chunks of yourself and your time, but if you've never really felt very proud of yourself, it hardly occurs to you that it might matter to you or anyone else when the experience finally fades.

I used to be really good at masking. I could just put on a happy face and a new personality - be whoever I wanted to be for the moment. If I wanted people, I was a Friend. If I wanted alone, I was a Bitch. It was easy, easy, easy because I really WAS all of those different kinds of people. I liked me and I hated me, according to whichever mask I wore at the time.

Then last October happened and I created a smokescreen just like I always do. I told enough of the story to elicit sympathy and not enough to really help myself survive.

So here I am, skirting around the web and I realized there's another red-head with a good sense of humor who reads and comments like I once did and has all the same blogbuddies I once had...and it hit me. The old me really has gone forever. I'm not funny anymore - I'm a walking shout-out to injustice and anger and regret. And I don't know how to feel about it except full of anger and regret, so that's hardly a solution-based sentiment.

Part of me wants to explain it all. Justify myself. Pretend I can be what I was - a good friend, an entertaining amigo, a harmless flirt, and an innocent with a wicked streak. I want to just burst on the scene again not with the feeling of an outsider who once held place in the world but as a true insider who is complete and together and....funny.

The other part just wants to read Harry Potter, eat ice cream and pretend nothing happened...just like always. Because in the end, it doesn't matter. Everyone is just a blip on the radar. It's the way the world works. And I can't promise I'll be more fun or more entertaining or rant less or anything. I'm sad. I'm mad. I'm full of regrets. And it's gotta be okay if I'm ever going to figure it all out and live.

It's very weird to be me and be so opposite to the person who used to live in this same skin. I really have no idea who I am and nothing I do or say makes sense anymore. I guess that's why I'm under work pressure and family pressure and social pressure - it really is unfair to lend your skin to someone so not you. I wish the old me would come and pick up her Birthday Suit. Though she probably wouldn't be happy about how much ice cream I fed it in her absence.

Yes, I'm covering up the last post with this one. You got a problem with that?!

Reality and I are having a very active disagreement on how we should experience one another. I have all these things I want to change and new experiences I feel should be a part of my life yet the fact remains that reality has not quite signed the change in protocol. Reality tells me it's not a very good idea to make grandiose changes right now. But I insist. I am ready for newness. And so the debate/argument rages.

Then I realized I know exactly what's going on with me. When I was a young girl, I lived across the street from the Snake River in Idaho. Watersnakes love that river, so the river bottoms were often filled with the slimy little freak-out-makers. I don't like snakes. Things that slither - so not me. So, I typically jumped a mile and ran screaming across any hot surface of safety. But this day, I remember pausing to watch the snake because it was dragging an old skin behind its body. Attached to a single skin cell, the shedding refused to cut loose. The snake was much more interested in that noxious appendage than my presence. It would slither a bit. Pause. Shake and shake its tail. Then resume attempts to slither before repeating the cycle.

That's me. Right now. I'm ready to shed the past like an old, useless, dead skin. I go about my world in newfound happiness and self-satisfaction. Then something catches. That old dead skin. I stop. I shake - I claim I need to relocate to some forest where the stupid skin can't possibly live - and then I try to resume my journey.

I don't know when the skin will finally snap loose. But I know I don't have to relocate for it to happen. It'll all change when the last cell finally releases its hold. In the meantime, I just have to accept that every so often I have to pause, shake, hiss, and resume the journey.

The soundtrack of my re-skinning can be found here. I adore this Internet station. I wrote my senator to save it and received a lovely response from one of her staffers.