I realized that I've consistently posted new blogs on Fridays for the last several weeks. If that isn't an argument for a four-day work week, I don't know what is!
Honestly, this whole week has been a wash. I've never been so unproductive - and NOT cared that I've been so unproductive. I'm hitting the three-month mark as a full-time employee at Dill and Dill. I had this sense of dread on Wednesday evening (after spending at least 6 hours online planning four different vacation options for the long weekend) that this is my life. I've entered the phase in my life where I get up, go to work, drink my cup of tea, bullshit with my co-workers for about 30 minutes, avoid petty office politics, check my e-mail, respond to all the minor catastrophes that sprung up overnight (as with most things, small problems are blown way out of proportion - I think it's a human way of dealing with boredom - a way to inject some excitement into the work place), then type away on some obscenely irrelevant document and send it off in some obscenely egologically destructive method (Fed-Ex, UPS, DHL, etc.) so that Mr. So-and-So-Money-Bags can read it, sign it, and send it right back on the next jet plane. I'm not bitter; the novelty of my New Job is just wearing off, and the reality of it is sinking in. I can't express enough how thankful I am to have this job. I work with great people, in a very affirming environment, I learn something new everyday, I'm setting myself up very well for a debt-free future, I'm bulking up my resume, etc., etc. I am very, very blessed to be where I am.
In fact, this morning, I woke up smiling. Very consciously smiling. I felt utterly content. I've been struggling lately with feeling sorry for myself, wanting something I can't have, feeling a little lonesome in my one-bedroom apartment, but today was a different day all together. Perhaps I'm excited about the three-day weekend and the plans I have that are actually going to work out (look for some amazing photos on Tuesday), or maybe I really have reached a growing point where I've given up some unhealthy mental habits, and made a transition. Either way, it feels fantastic.
I think one of the things that spurred on all this positive energy is I read some posts and personal journal entries I wrote this time last year, and I was really encouraged to see how far I've come in these short twelve months. I made some significant changes, all for the better.
Something about the onset of Fall makes me nostalgic. Students are starting the new school year (I'm envious of all of them), football season is underway, my birthday is in less than a month, leaves change colors, it all just represents the start of something new. So it's no wonder I feel restless. I'm ready for new adventures, new interactions, new scenery. While three days away from civilization may not be the cure, I hope I can come back to the monotony and daily obligations of adult-life (where I don't really think I belong yet) with a renewed sense of purpose, or at least be too exhausted to do anything other than peck away at my keyboard.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
"Remedies" by Allison Lotterhos
One of the best things about living in Colorado is that I can spend really good time with my siblings. For the first time I think we all behave much more like friends than like family - I mean that in a good way. There's still that element of security because we're family, but we've lost that rivalry all siblings harbor among each other. We genuiunely care about each other, spend time together, understand each other in a way that non-family members never will, and occasionally we have the opportunity to celebrate each others' accomplishments.
Last week my sister, Allison, released her debut album, Remedies; her original compositions on the Hammer Dulcimer. My brother helped record and produce, as well as contributing musically. My mom accompanied her on the violin. It was somewhat of a family affair. My Dad and I simply get to enjoy the beautiful clamorings (sometimes just clamorings) of our musically gifted family members. After watching the project progress over the summer, I was thrilled to attend the "Release Party" last Wednesday night at Boulder coffee house, The Burnt Toast.
When Allison took to the microphone, positioning it just over the strings of her instrument, the place fell silent. Even the homeless guy with the pink wig, wool skirt (over his jeans), and down vest stopped muttering to himself as she started to play. She was incredible, hands flying over the strings, mallets precisely striking each note with crystal clarity. After each tune, the small crowd erupted in applause, begging for more.
For me, the show was about more than the music. It was about seeing my sister blossom. She is so talented, but has struggled to find her niche for years. Since transitioning from playing Tenors in the marching band to composing her own music on the Hammer Dulcimer and Piano, she has taken her natural ability to the next level. She's focused and determined in a way that only a serious artist concentrates on their craft. The confidence she's gained through developing this skill has seeped into other aspects of her life as well. We had brunch yesterday, just enjoyed each other's company over Omelettes at the Golden Buff, talking, like friends and like sisters. I couldn't help but admire how well-spoken, honest, collected, and confident she is. Unlike me, she has been willing to rebel against some of the more conventional (and perhaps unhealthy?) social expectations. I'm just now reaching conclusions at which she arrived years ago. That's the funny thing about family - we may have started off in the same nest, but we are certainly ending up in different directions. She's at a really good place in her life. I'm really proud of her.
I'm taking a cue from her and seeking out the things that make me happy, make me shine, motivate me, regardless of how I think it may be perceived by others. I've wasted too much time being concerned about building and maintaining an image. While I understand that some of that is necessary in what I want to do with my life, but at what price? Sacrificing my freedom to discover who I was created to be? In the midst of trying to be who I thought I SHOULD be, who I thought other people thought I should be, I haven't always been honest. So now I struggle with the problem of aligning who I impressed myself to be, and who I really am. On this point, I envy my sister, because, in all our mistakes, she has refused to be anyone but her true self.
When I asked her about the title of her debut album, "Remedies," she replied,
"It's just like it sounds, these songs are remedies for me." I guess we each find our own therapy, our own salves for our own aches and pains. My remedies will not look like my sister's, nor should they; but I will certainly enjoy hers in the meantime, I know I won't be the only one!
Last week my sister, Allison, released her debut album, Remedies; her original compositions on the Hammer Dulcimer. My brother helped record and produce, as well as contributing musically. My mom accompanied her on the violin. It was somewhat of a family affair. My Dad and I simply get to enjoy the beautiful clamorings (sometimes just clamorings) of our musically gifted family members. After watching the project progress over the summer, I was thrilled to attend the "Release Party" last Wednesday night at Boulder coffee house, The Burnt Toast.
When Allison took to the microphone, positioning it just over the strings of her instrument, the place fell silent. Even the homeless guy with the pink wig, wool skirt (over his jeans), and down vest stopped muttering to himself as she started to play. She was incredible, hands flying over the strings, mallets precisely striking each note with crystal clarity. After each tune, the small crowd erupted in applause, begging for more.
For me, the show was about more than the music. It was about seeing my sister blossom. She is so talented, but has struggled to find her niche for years. Since transitioning from playing Tenors in the marching band to composing her own music on the Hammer Dulcimer and Piano, she has taken her natural ability to the next level. She's focused and determined in a way that only a serious artist concentrates on their craft. The confidence she's gained through developing this skill has seeped into other aspects of her life as well. We had brunch yesterday, just enjoyed each other's company over Omelettes at the Golden Buff, talking, like friends and like sisters. I couldn't help but admire how well-spoken, honest, collected, and confident she is. Unlike me, she has been willing to rebel against some of the more conventional (and perhaps unhealthy?) social expectations. I'm just now reaching conclusions at which she arrived years ago. That's the funny thing about family - we may have started off in the same nest, but we are certainly ending up in different directions. She's at a really good place in her life. I'm really proud of her.
I'm taking a cue from her and seeking out the things that make me happy, make me shine, motivate me, regardless of how I think it may be perceived by others. I've wasted too much time being concerned about building and maintaining an image. While I understand that some of that is necessary in what I want to do with my life, but at what price? Sacrificing my freedom to discover who I was created to be? In the midst of trying to be who I thought I SHOULD be, who I thought other people thought I should be, I haven't always been honest. So now I struggle with the problem of aligning who I impressed myself to be, and who I really am. On this point, I envy my sister, because, in all our mistakes, she has refused to be anyone but her true self.
When I asked her about the title of her debut album, "Remedies," she replied,
"It's just like it sounds, these songs are remedies for me." I guess we each find our own therapy, our own salves for our own aches and pains. My remedies will not look like my sister's, nor should they; but I will certainly enjoy hers in the meantime, I know I won't be the only one!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Bruises
I have lots of bruises. I'm not clumsy I just do things that have potential for injury. I run in the mountains, climb rocks, play on the monkey bars at the park down the street, ride my bike too fast down hills, move objects that are far beyond my strength level, listen to my Ipod when I run, read while I walk, talk on the phone when I'm doing just about everything, etc. I've been really fortunate to not suffer greater injury than I have. No broken bones, no major surgeries, no blood transfusions or organ transplants. I was a very cautious child, terrified of physical pain. As I've grown up, I've learned to take greater risks and rely on my body and my instincts to keep me safe. In my running career (short though it may be), I'm one of the few people I know who's sole physical set-back is a persistent blister on the arch of my right foot.
Regardless, I have bumps and bruises from head to toe. The most recent is from my run yesterday. I was talking to my coach while we jogged side-by-side on a narrow sidewalk. I turned my head to acknowledge something she said and sideswiped myself with a street sign. I have a nice, long, black and blue bruise on the left side of my chest, right above my, uh, tender part. About a week ago I banged my shin on the platform at the end of the monkey bars in the park down the street (I'm practicing my gymnastics skills). I scraped up my knee on a huge, underwater rock when I was tubing two weeks ago, the skin is starting to grow back, over a lodged pebble. I have a scrape where a sharp branch attacked my neck when I was riding my bike through some thick foliage a few days ago.
The fun thing about bruises (0ther than bragging about how you got them) is giving them a gentle poke every once in awhile to see if it still hurts, gauge the healing process. Emotional bruises are kind of the same. Every so often I kind of poke around my heart to see how things are healing up. Like the bruise I obtained yesterday, some of the more recent offenses still smart. But injuries that have had more time to heal aren't as tender (like my knee). I was surprised to find this week during an occasional self-exam, that a more serious injury inflicted years ago didn't hold any pain when I gingerly pressed my fingertips to the spot. So I pushed a little harder; looking at old photos, reading old letters, having a conversation about it with someone involved. Still, nothing. I even had brief thought this morning that perhaps it's time to stop hiding it. I've kept it a secret for so long, and now I'm not sure why I need to anymore. There was a strong sense of guilt and shame associated with it. I felt a lot of judgment from people I trusted in regards to the whole issue. Even people I thought would be open-minded and supportive, criticized my ability to have a normal life and pursue my big dreams because of the seriousness of the wound. Now those sentiments don't seem to matter, if they still exist at all.
I've been thinking lately about how I try to please people. I work really hard to do things that I know the people I care about will appreciate. I get no small amount of pleasure out of it myself. I really like being the source of other peoples' happiness or, at least, temporary enjoyment. I love to cook for people. I like giving my friends things that I know they will really like and that demonstrates how well I know them and appreciate their individual tastes and interests. But at what point does my desire to make other people happy inhibit my own enjoyment of life?
I was out with this guy a few days ago who really wanted to talk about cars. He really liked cars. He had gone to a show of some kind and was all excited about a new model something that would go really fast, and was really shiny (though I'm sure his description was much more sophisticated). My interest in cars is limited to how many miles I can get from a gallon of gas, and the implications they have for the political debate on clean burning fuel and the energy crisis. At first I tried to listen, even tried to recall an articles I had read or something I had heard on NPR. After about 10 minutes of this conversation I realized I was putting too much energy into a discussion I couldn't give a rat's ass about. And for what? Too make this guy interested in me, or at least think that I was interesting.
I have to give myself a break on this too, because I genuinely enjoy connecting with people. I really like learning new things from people and engaging with them in something they enjoy. Another thing I really don't like is hockey. It's one sport in which I have zero interest. But I went to a hockey game with a guy this past spring because I knew it was something he liked, and I wanted to experience his world a little bit. It's like watching a movie you have no particular desire to see because the person you're with is really excited about it. Or reading a book that's important to someone even if it's in a style or on a subject matter that's outside my usual interest. So, I'm happy to compromise and make some concessions on minor things like this, but when it becomes too much work, I need to be willing to change the subject, or suggest a different activity that will make ME happy, regardless of what the other person's reaction will be.
In regards to healing bruises, and old war wounds, I would like to be more honest about myself with other people. I'm not quite ready to lay everything on the table - there is something to be said for discretion. But if an injury no longer bears pain, there's no reason to keep the ugly scar hidden. I'm not perfect, I haven't always made perfect decisions. I've had accidents and moments of weakness that resulted in cuts and bruises. I think one of my biggest fears in sharing some of these war stories and putting my scars on display is that people will judge my character based on these individual events. And while they may have had a major impact on me, I don't want to be boxed in or categorized based on them.
I'm still unwrapping the bandages, and evaluating the healing process on some of these bruises. Every so often I set off a lightening rod of pain with a touch, when I thought it would most certainly be healed. And other spots aren't as tender as their recent infliction should suggest.
The important lesson I'm learning is that I don't have to be the same scared, cautious girl I once was. Eventually all the bandages will come off, all things heal, and all scars will be displayed. It's just part of living a good, rich life, sometimes you get hurt. As long as I live with integrity and make the right choices, I can be confident and know that I was doing something I enjoy when I got that black and blue mark.
Regardless, I have bumps and bruises from head to toe. The most recent is from my run yesterday. I was talking to my coach while we jogged side-by-side on a narrow sidewalk. I turned my head to acknowledge something she said and sideswiped myself with a street sign. I have a nice, long, black and blue bruise on the left side of my chest, right above my, uh, tender part. About a week ago I banged my shin on the platform at the end of the monkey bars in the park down the street (I'm practicing my gymnastics skills). I scraped up my knee on a huge, underwater rock when I was tubing two weeks ago, the skin is starting to grow back, over a lodged pebble. I have a scrape where a sharp branch attacked my neck when I was riding my bike through some thick foliage a few days ago.
The fun thing about bruises (0ther than bragging about how you got them) is giving them a gentle poke every once in awhile to see if it still hurts, gauge the healing process. Emotional bruises are kind of the same. Every so often I kind of poke around my heart to see how things are healing up. Like the bruise I obtained yesterday, some of the more recent offenses still smart. But injuries that have had more time to heal aren't as tender (like my knee). I was surprised to find this week during an occasional self-exam, that a more serious injury inflicted years ago didn't hold any pain when I gingerly pressed my fingertips to the spot. So I pushed a little harder; looking at old photos, reading old letters, having a conversation about it with someone involved. Still, nothing. I even had brief thought this morning that perhaps it's time to stop hiding it. I've kept it a secret for so long, and now I'm not sure why I need to anymore. There was a strong sense of guilt and shame associated with it. I felt a lot of judgment from people I trusted in regards to the whole issue. Even people I thought would be open-minded and supportive, criticized my ability to have a normal life and pursue my big dreams because of the seriousness of the wound. Now those sentiments don't seem to matter, if they still exist at all.
I've been thinking lately about how I try to please people. I work really hard to do things that I know the people I care about will appreciate. I get no small amount of pleasure out of it myself. I really like being the source of other peoples' happiness or, at least, temporary enjoyment. I love to cook for people. I like giving my friends things that I know they will really like and that demonstrates how well I know them and appreciate their individual tastes and interests. But at what point does my desire to make other people happy inhibit my own enjoyment of life?
I was out with this guy a few days ago who really wanted to talk about cars. He really liked cars. He had gone to a show of some kind and was all excited about a new model something that would go really fast, and was really shiny (though I'm sure his description was much more sophisticated). My interest in cars is limited to how many miles I can get from a gallon of gas, and the implications they have for the political debate on clean burning fuel and the energy crisis. At first I tried to listen, even tried to recall an articles I had read or something I had heard on NPR. After about 10 minutes of this conversation I realized I was putting too much energy into a discussion I couldn't give a rat's ass about. And for what? Too make this guy interested in me, or at least think that I was interesting.
I have to give myself a break on this too, because I genuinely enjoy connecting with people. I really like learning new things from people and engaging with them in something they enjoy. Another thing I really don't like is hockey. It's one sport in which I have zero interest. But I went to a hockey game with a guy this past spring because I knew it was something he liked, and I wanted to experience his world a little bit. It's like watching a movie you have no particular desire to see because the person you're with is really excited about it. Or reading a book that's important to someone even if it's in a style or on a subject matter that's outside my usual interest. So, I'm happy to compromise and make some concessions on minor things like this, but when it becomes too much work, I need to be willing to change the subject, or suggest a different activity that will make ME happy, regardless of what the other person's reaction will be.
In regards to healing bruises, and old war wounds, I would like to be more honest about myself with other people. I'm not quite ready to lay everything on the table - there is something to be said for discretion. But if an injury no longer bears pain, there's no reason to keep the ugly scar hidden. I'm not perfect, I haven't always made perfect decisions. I've had accidents and moments of weakness that resulted in cuts and bruises. I think one of my biggest fears in sharing some of these war stories and putting my scars on display is that people will judge my character based on these individual events. And while they may have had a major impact on me, I don't want to be boxed in or categorized based on them.
I'm still unwrapping the bandages, and evaluating the healing process on some of these bruises. Every so often I set off a lightening rod of pain with a touch, when I thought it would most certainly be healed. And other spots aren't as tender as their recent infliction should suggest.
The important lesson I'm learning is that I don't have to be the same scared, cautious girl I once was. Eventually all the bandages will come off, all things heal, and all scars will be displayed. It's just part of living a good, rich life, sometimes you get hurt. As long as I live with integrity and make the right choices, I can be confident and know that I was doing something I enjoy when I got that black and blue mark.
Friday, August 22, 2008
The Eureka Hunt
Very interesting article in the July 28, 2008 edition of the New Yorker. An abstract is available:
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/07/28/080728fa_fact_lehrer
I think it's a really fascinating attempt to understand where those "Aha!" moments come from, physiologically.
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/07/28/080728fa_fact_lehrer
I think it's a really fascinating attempt to understand where those "Aha!" moments come from, physiologically.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Ride the White Horse
Since my post on Friday, I am singing a new tune. Turns out all it takes to change my outlook and attitude is a good cry, dinner with a fabulous friend, and a solid Sunday-morning run. I'm staying at my parents' house this weekend. I needed to come home, both literally and figuratively. I wanted to be in a safe place for a couple days. As much as I love my apartment, and living on my own, sometimes a girl just needs her Dad to take care of her. (As I think I've mentioned before, my "Daddy Issue" is that He loves me so much no man will ever be good enough.)
So today I feel safe, strong, secure, empowered. It's a good launching point, and just in time! I have a busy couple months coming up and I have got to get my act together if I'm going to succeed. The Denver Marathon is just 60 days away (October 19), the Las Vegas Marathon is 50 days after that (December 7), my birthday is just over a month away (September 23), and my weekend of too-much-fun with Whitney is the following weekend. In the midst of all this, I'm taking on the biggest client at the law firm where I work, working on a multi-million real estate deal that will have vast implications for clean energy production in Colorado (and for the US), and volunteering at the DNC next week.
The funny thing about depression is that it inhibits you from doing the very things you know you need to do to make things better. I get stuck focusing on the muck in the trench that traps me. I feel helpless, hopeless, and I sabotage my best attempts to climb out by refusing to do the things I enjoy. Just three days ago I sulking over the fact that soon I'll be 27 and I haven't done most of the things on my "list." Last night I was watching the Olympics when Constantina Tomescu Dita became the oldest woman to win a medal in the Women's Marathon at 38, and Dara Torres (44) took home two silver medals. Running this morning I reminded myself that I've got so much life to live! I often get stuck in this mindset of trying to do everything "right now." Acting as though if I don't do it now I may never get the chance to do it before I get bogged down with all the obligations of adulthood. I think the key is to keep those goals in sight and NOT get bogged down with those socially-imposed obligations. Who says I have to be married before I'm thirty? Who says I should have kids before I'm thirty-five, or own a home, or work 50 hours/week? None of those things will make ME happy. I'm learning to give up the expectations that others/society may have for me and just do what's best for me.
Eventually I want to go back to school. I really want to teach Political Science at the University level. So why don't I do that, you ask? Because I don't have to right now. School will always be an option for me. And right now, I have a good job, I'm making serious head-way on being Debt-Free, and I am becoming convinced that if I buckle down, work hard, make some good connections in the legal field, I will have the freedom to pursue my academic career in a couple years. Right now, I believe I am in a good place. While my free-spirit wants to pack up and move some place new and different every three months, I want to set myself up for success by sticking it out right now. Also, I still have military obligations that limit my ability to disappear as an ex-pat in Argentina. In the meantime, I'm going to try to satisfy my desire for escape with long runs in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains.
So today I feel safe, strong, secure, empowered. It's a good launching point, and just in time! I have a busy couple months coming up and I have got to get my act together if I'm going to succeed. The Denver Marathon is just 60 days away (October 19), the Las Vegas Marathon is 50 days after that (December 7), my birthday is just over a month away (September 23), and my weekend of too-much-fun with Whitney is the following weekend. In the midst of all this, I'm taking on the biggest client at the law firm where I work, working on a multi-million real estate deal that will have vast implications for clean energy production in Colorado (and for the US), and volunteering at the DNC next week.
The funny thing about depression is that it inhibits you from doing the very things you know you need to do to make things better. I get stuck focusing on the muck in the trench that traps me. I feel helpless, hopeless, and I sabotage my best attempts to climb out by refusing to do the things I enjoy. Just three days ago I sulking over the fact that soon I'll be 27 and I haven't done most of the things on my "list." Last night I was watching the Olympics when Constantina Tomescu Dita became the oldest woman to win a medal in the Women's Marathon at 38, and Dara Torres (44) took home two silver medals. Running this morning I reminded myself that I've got so much life to live! I often get stuck in this mindset of trying to do everything "right now." Acting as though if I don't do it now I may never get the chance to do it before I get bogged down with all the obligations of adulthood. I think the key is to keep those goals in sight and NOT get bogged down with those socially-imposed obligations. Who says I have to be married before I'm thirty? Who says I should have kids before I'm thirty-five, or own a home, or work 50 hours/week? None of those things will make ME happy. I'm learning to give up the expectations that others/society may have for me and just do what's best for me.
Eventually I want to go back to school. I really want to teach Political Science at the University level. So why don't I do that, you ask? Because I don't have to right now. School will always be an option for me. And right now, I have a good job, I'm making serious head-way on being Debt-Free, and I am becoming convinced that if I buckle down, work hard, make some good connections in the legal field, I will have the freedom to pursue my academic career in a couple years. Right now, I believe I am in a good place. While my free-spirit wants to pack up and move some place new and different every three months, I want to set myself up for success by sticking it out right now. Also, I still have military obligations that limit my ability to disappear as an ex-pat in Argentina. In the meantime, I'm going to try to satisfy my desire for escape with long runs in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Weathering the Storm
I know I promised to stop with the self-pitying blog posts. But lately I've lost a friendship that was very important to me. At first I determined that it was only temporary and eventually we would repair our relationship. Over the last week I've realized that it's simply become an artifact of a past-life that neither of us particularly enjoy remembering. While I was trying to develop a future with this person, they were slowly, surely putting me on the shelf. My initial reaction to this recent realization was anger. I wanted to hurt them they way I felt hurt. I restrained myself from sending any snide e-mails or leaving any verbal jabs on their voicemail.
I was thinking about it last night while I was driving home from my parent's house. It was late, the roads were empty and it started to rain. I started crying. It was the first time I cried about this loss. I hadn't let myself acknowledge, physically, how much I was hurt by the whole thing. I was trying to force myself past it all without mourning the loss and letting myself FEEL a little hurt.
As I got into bed last night I started thinking about other times I've felt abandoned and hurt like this. I've dug myself out of worse ditches, I can do it again. For me, the best way to handle this is to make goals for myself and mark my progress. It's my way of putting one foot in front of the other. So I made my list of things to accomplish by the end of the month. My running schedule has been rather light. My refusal to cope with this issue has zapped my energy and I'd rather watch DVDs than do something I really enjoy. Number 1 on my list is to run 6 times before August 31. I quit my regular yoga practice because I couldn't find any peace in it, I rushed through the poses, rigid and blocked. No. 2: Take two classes at the studio down the street. I've let my apartment become a mess. No. 3: Put my clean laundry away. I've been so inwardly focused I've neglected people I care about. Nos 4 and 5: Call Dawn Miller, and research the volunteer opportunity with CASA one of my friends at work mentioned. In reality I let things fall apart because I just didn't want to deal with this one problem. All the while I kept telling myself that I was fine, I deserve to smile, I've got it together.
Today I'm starting fresh. I may NOT be okay. I might be hurting. I might not be exactly where I want to be. I may not have everyone/everything I want. But I can face this disappointment, like every one in the past, tackle it, and come out stronger in the end - with a little more emotional fortitude.
You may think my daily horoscope reading is silly. And it is. But sometimes I find something worthwhile, like this morning:
"There has been some growing distance between you and a friend, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. Don't worry that the relationship is coming to an end. Friendships are not always just about having fun: They should be about growing, too. And growing pains are inevitable. You two are good for each other, so focus on that. It's important for you to respect them and accept their opinions, even if you don't agree with them. Value the history you shared together."
If that's all there is left of this friendship - history - then I need to acknowledge that, give up any hopes of reviving what we once shared, and move forward in that new mindset and heartset. Even though I will never find a replacement, I can find a temporary substitute until he doesn't matter anymore.
I was thinking about it last night while I was driving home from my parent's house. It was late, the roads were empty and it started to rain. I started crying. It was the first time I cried about this loss. I hadn't let myself acknowledge, physically, how much I was hurt by the whole thing. I was trying to force myself past it all without mourning the loss and letting myself FEEL a little hurt.
As I got into bed last night I started thinking about other times I've felt abandoned and hurt like this. I've dug myself out of worse ditches, I can do it again. For me, the best way to handle this is to make goals for myself and mark my progress. It's my way of putting one foot in front of the other. So I made my list of things to accomplish by the end of the month. My running schedule has been rather light. My refusal to cope with this issue has zapped my energy and I'd rather watch DVDs than do something I really enjoy. Number 1 on my list is to run 6 times before August 31. I quit my regular yoga practice because I couldn't find any peace in it, I rushed through the poses, rigid and blocked. No. 2: Take two classes at the studio down the street. I've let my apartment become a mess. No. 3: Put my clean laundry away. I've been so inwardly focused I've neglected people I care about. Nos 4 and 5: Call Dawn Miller, and research the volunteer opportunity with CASA one of my friends at work mentioned. In reality I let things fall apart because I just didn't want to deal with this one problem. All the while I kept telling myself that I was fine, I deserve to smile, I've got it together.
Today I'm starting fresh. I may NOT be okay. I might be hurting. I might not be exactly where I want to be. I may not have everyone/everything I want. But I can face this disappointment, like every one in the past, tackle it, and come out stronger in the end - with a little more emotional fortitude.
You may think my daily horoscope reading is silly. And it is. But sometimes I find something worthwhile, like this morning:
"There has been some growing distance between you and a friend, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. Don't worry that the relationship is coming to an end. Friendships are not always just about having fun: They should be about growing, too. And growing pains are inevitable. You two are good for each other, so focus on that. It's important for you to respect them and accept their opinions, even if you don't agree with them. Value the history you shared together."
If that's all there is left of this friendship - history - then I need to acknowledge that, give up any hopes of reviving what we once shared, and move forward in that new mindset and heartset. Even though I will never find a replacement, I can find a temporary substitute until he doesn't matter anymore.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Live High
Last week was a particularly frustrating and stressful week at work. The pettiness of office drama and the overt under-handedness among co-workers is becoming near intolerable. To me, the amount of work I have to do is not a matter of ego. But some people seem to think that because they work 8 hours of overtime a week they work harder, are more valuable, and more important than those of us who only work our mere 40 hours. So when I was confronted by a co-worker returning from 3 weeks out of the office about how I had handled her case-load while she was gone, I was happy to hand everything back over to her; until she quit. Now she's hovering over my shoulder, nitpicking every little detail, complaining to the client that she just doesn't know what's going to happen to their cases since she's leaving, etc. My only problem with the situation is that she is trying to hold me accountable to procedures that she never bothered to tell me in the two weeks I was available to train with her.
I reached the peak of my frustration when she lost one of the signed original documents required for the application and then accused me of being disorganized. I have to make a side note here that while to most people I may seem disorganized in my personal life (if you've ever taken a ride in my car, you know), but at work, I am meticulous. It's an army skill.
The real silver lining in all of this is the fact that in the midst of it all, I never bitched and moaned to my boss, my co-workers, or anyone else (though I graciously pointed out the source of my frustration in specific instances to the "higher-ups") I never said an unkind or impatient word to her. I never made made snide comments or argued with her. I know that while it is very important to be right and for justice to be served, it is even more important to be known as someone who is humble, cooperative, teachable, and patient in every circumstance. Besides, she's gone in two weeks and then it won't matter one bit if she lost the paperwork or belabored me with minutiea; what WILL matter is how my co-workers and supervisors remember how well I handled a diffcult situation. I'm very proud of the way I handled myself and completed my tasks. I hope I can say the same thing at the end of this week! Bring it on - a test of character is a challenge I can relish!
I reached the peak of my frustration when she lost one of the signed original documents required for the application and then accused me of being disorganized. I have to make a side note here that while to most people I may seem disorganized in my personal life (if you've ever taken a ride in my car, you know), but at work, I am meticulous. It's an army skill.
The real silver lining in all of this is the fact that in the midst of it all, I never bitched and moaned to my boss, my co-workers, or anyone else (though I graciously pointed out the source of my frustration in specific instances to the "higher-ups") I never said an unkind or impatient word to her. I never made made snide comments or argued with her. I know that while it is very important to be right and for justice to be served, it is even more important to be known as someone who is humble, cooperative, teachable, and patient in every circumstance. Besides, she's gone in two weeks and then it won't matter one bit if she lost the paperwork or belabored me with minutiea; what WILL matter is how my co-workers and supervisors remember how well I handled a diffcult situation. I'm very proud of the way I handled myself and completed my tasks. I hope I can say the same thing at the end of this week! Bring it on - a test of character is a challenge I can relish!
Thursday, August 07, 2008
I like my Drinks like I like my Men. . .
Tall and Strong.
I was looking at an old online profile I set up for something I never use. In the section that asked what my favorite drink is I responded with the line above. I laughed at what my previous version had written, because it was something I never would have said out loud, except my closest friends, and in jest - I was too afraid to admit that I liked men (a lot) in general. It got me thinking though: How do I like my men? Do I have a certain "type" that I gravitate toward? So I started thumbing through my mental files of boys, guys, and men that I've dated and/or had casual romantic encounters with. Really, the only consistent thing that catches my attention is that I dig Narcissists. Of course I have a physical type I'm attracted to: Tall, Dark and Handsome. (My newest Hearthrob certainly fits this description!) But personality-wise I'm pretty consistent as well. I really like guys who are totally self-absorbed. I think it's the confidence thing that accompanies that trait. Self-depricating humor is such a turn-off. I don't have energy to waste trying to feel sorry for someone or trying to make him feel better about himself. That just feels like manipulation, and I get enough of that from my Grandmother.
I went out a few times with a guy recently who was super nice, but he need so much assurance that I was having a nice time with him. He wouldn't take any liberties with me because he was so insecure about whether or not I wanted to be there in the first place. I quickly got bored and frustrated, so I stopped returning his phone calls. I felt bad at first for blowing him off, but really, I didn't need to waste his time or mine.
Then there's this guy I work with. Who I know is really in to me. But he'll hardly look at me when he says "hello" and his attempts at asking me out have been painfully awkward. I'm not interested, and I'm happy to let him slip quietly and swiftly into the "Friend Zone" partly because I know he'll never have the guts to make a real move. We went to a baseball game together (I was able to decipher the fact that he was inviting me to do something) and I scored a date with another guy right in front of him, and he just stood by without a peep. Maybe I'm cruel, but he shouldn't let me walk all over him!
The guys that I really enjoy remembering - all totally self-absorbed. What can I say, Narcisism is hot!
I know it's a cliche that girls only like jerks and "nice guys finish last." I admit, I fit that stereotype. I like strong men who don't ask permission - they think they're entitled, so they go after what they want. The problem is that they are so in love with themselves they can hardly recognize how fabulous I am, then they get bored and stop calling me. It's a vicious cycle, but I'm interested in getting out of it anytime soon. It's the viciousness that keeps things interesting. Maybe when I'm actually ready to settle down, the self-absorbed assholes won't seem so appealing. Until then, I'll be a cliche.
I was looking at an old online profile I set up for something I never use. In the section that asked what my favorite drink is I responded with the line above. I laughed at what my previous version had written, because it was something I never would have said out loud, except my closest friends, and in jest - I was too afraid to admit that I liked men (a lot) in general. It got me thinking though: How do I like my men? Do I have a certain "type" that I gravitate toward? So I started thumbing through my mental files of boys, guys, and men that I've dated and/or had casual romantic encounters with. Really, the only consistent thing that catches my attention is that I dig Narcissists. Of course I have a physical type I'm attracted to: Tall, Dark and Handsome. (My newest Hearthrob certainly fits this description!) But personality-wise I'm pretty consistent as well. I really like guys who are totally self-absorbed. I think it's the confidence thing that accompanies that trait. Self-depricating humor is such a turn-off. I don't have energy to waste trying to feel sorry for someone or trying to make him feel better about himself. That just feels like manipulation, and I get enough of that from my Grandmother.
I went out a few times with a guy recently who was super nice, but he need so much assurance that I was having a nice time with him. He wouldn't take any liberties with me because he was so insecure about whether or not I wanted to be there in the first place. I quickly got bored and frustrated, so I stopped returning his phone calls. I felt bad at first for blowing him off, but really, I didn't need to waste his time or mine.
Then there's this guy I work with. Who I know is really in to me. But he'll hardly look at me when he says "hello" and his attempts at asking me out have been painfully awkward. I'm not interested, and I'm happy to let him slip quietly and swiftly into the "Friend Zone" partly because I know he'll never have the guts to make a real move. We went to a baseball game together (I was able to decipher the fact that he was inviting me to do something) and I scored a date with another guy right in front of him, and he just stood by without a peep. Maybe I'm cruel, but he shouldn't let me walk all over him!
The guys that I really enjoy remembering - all totally self-absorbed. What can I say, Narcisism is hot!
I know it's a cliche that girls only like jerks and "nice guys finish last." I admit, I fit that stereotype. I like strong men who don't ask permission - they think they're entitled, so they go after what they want. The problem is that they are so in love with themselves they can hardly recognize how fabulous I am, then they get bored and stop calling me. It's a vicious cycle, but I'm interested in getting out of it anytime soon. It's the viciousness that keeps things interesting. Maybe when I'm actually ready to settle down, the self-absorbed assholes won't seem so appealing. Until then, I'll be a cliche.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Life in Technicolor
Some experiences make you see the world in such vivid colors. The sky looks bluer than ever, the sun shines brighter, the breeze blows softer and cooler, etc. etc. Life is grand and you feel full, whole, content. Your soul sings and you just smile.
This weekend helped me realized how incredibly blessed I am. I ran the Wild West Relay - a 195 mile race from Fort Collins to Steamboat Springs. I was a last-minute addition to a team sponsored by a friend's husband's company. They needed one more runner for their team and I wanted to torture myself by running insanely long distances over high altitude mountain passes - really I just needed to get out of town and get in to something new, different, change things up a bit. It was a perfect opportunity. It was probably one of the best weekends of my life.
I really thrive on adventure - doing new things, meeting new people, seeing new places, challenging myself. I'm at a point in my life where I am comfortable enough with myself and confident enough in my abilities that I can really relish taking some risks. I always surprise myself with how fast I am, or how strong I am, or how friendly I am, or how well I can relate to people, or how quickly I learn a new skill.
On the drive home yesterday I was deliciously exhausted and it hit me that I am exactly where I need to be right now, living my life how I want to be living it. I am taking hold of the life that I want, life that is truly life. It may not be perfect, it may not even be what I thought or expected. But I'm not perfect, I'm me, and I'm just right for what I am purposed to do.
Walking in to work this morning was a different sensation altogether. As long as I keep doing things that excite me and thinking and acting in a way that allows me to be free, I can certainly carry the adventure over into my daily life.
This weekend helped me realized how incredibly blessed I am. I ran the Wild West Relay - a 195 mile race from Fort Collins to Steamboat Springs. I was a last-minute addition to a team sponsored by a friend's husband's company. They needed one more runner for their team and I wanted to torture myself by running insanely long distances over high altitude mountain passes - really I just needed to get out of town and get in to something new, different, change things up a bit. It was a perfect opportunity. It was probably one of the best weekends of my life.
I really thrive on adventure - doing new things, meeting new people, seeing new places, challenging myself. I'm at a point in my life where I am comfortable enough with myself and confident enough in my abilities that I can really relish taking some risks. I always surprise myself with how fast I am, or how strong I am, or how friendly I am, or how well I can relate to people, or how quickly I learn a new skill.
On the drive home yesterday I was deliciously exhausted and it hit me that I am exactly where I need to be right now, living my life how I want to be living it. I am taking hold of the life that I want, life that is truly life. It may not be perfect, it may not even be what I thought or expected. But I'm not perfect, I'm me, and I'm just right for what I am purposed to do.
Walking in to work this morning was a different sensation altogether. As long as I keep doing things that excite me and thinking and acting in a way that allows me to be free, I can certainly carry the adventure over into my daily life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
