Overanalyzation and Panic Disorder - Part Deux

He called, and that's like a hit of Xanax.

Told you he gets to sleep easy.

What I Did on My Christmas Break, by Helene

I invited about 10 or so people and their kids to go Roller Skating yesterday, and unfortunately, last minute planning didn't work out.

I was getting back on skates for the first time in 4 years, since I had broken my ankle ice skating and was terrified of another rowdy little boy taking me out, again.

The 3 who said yes ended up cancelling, last minute, so it ended up just me and my girl. The place was empty - maybe 20 people, making it a perfect time to face my fear, gently. I wasn't a great skater to begin with, but I could at least stay alive and vertical.

My first treat was when my daughter confessed she was happy that no one else could make it, so we could bond. Then she did all in her power to try and trip me up - or in her mind, she just wanted to hold on to help me out, but that was even scarier.

My next treat was that I did, once again, stay alive and vertical. After the first hour, I was a natural. Well, if a natural flings it's arms out in all directions like a character actor trying to stay up after slipping on a banana peel, then that was me.

But we had fun, my girl and I. As a matter of fact, a lot of fun and I can't wait to go back and do it again!

And to those who couldn't make it...nanny nanny, poo poo.

Overanalyzation and Panic Disorder

I almost forgot what it's like when you're dating and actually see the person more than once or twice. First we need to quantify and qualify what is a date. Does the 1-hour coffee meet and greet - to decide if there might be an attraction - count as a first date? Does a big get together count, if they show up and are part of the group? If you're a "third date" big deal person, you really want to know. And if you're a "third date makes it okay to do the deed" person, it helps even more.

Let's say you do the meet and greet, then some time passes, and he shows up to the group get together you planned and invited him to. When you finally get to the actual date, is that now a third or a first date? Let's throw in one more date for good measure. Maybe it's your fourth, maybe it's your second...you don't know and you say WTF and do the deed, cause you're in the mood and attracted and somebody's drunk. At this point, I think it's okay to move on to overanalyzation.

You mention to your new special friend that you went to find his profile again on that dating site where you first met, and tell him it's no longer there. He tells you "I know, I don't need to be there anymore." "Hmmmm, is this about me?" you wonder. Or could it be a big giant ball of confusion thrown your way and you've forgotten your catcher's mitt? The girly girl is hoping it's about you, but the skeptic is saying this is a lot deeper than that. Now you overanalye yourself, and decide it's obvious - you're way too insecure to just accept that it's about you...overanalyzing him, you figure it just can't be that simple, he's a pretty deep guy.

After that date, where he took you to his office party, he tells you how his boss joked after meeting them that he bets "you don't have a girlfriend anymore." The overanalyzation kicks in big time, wondering what man would use the word girlfriend and not be denying it to the boss and making it perfectly clear to you that you're not his girlfriend. "Is he saying that he's my boyfriend?" you're wondering. "Am I ready to commit?" You're in complete shock after dating a half dozen men over the years that can say "I love you" but refuse to commit to dating exclusively.

Panic disorder sets in. The questions fly through your head, racing to whether this guy is marriage material because why bother going on a fifth date with someone who's not, especially if he already thinks you're his girlfriend. And it's very possible he said it but is not that clueless and you've taken the relationship five years into the future, and he's still back on date number three because the meet and greet and group get together doesn't count. You text message him to invite him out with your friends and he can't make it. You beat yourself up for turning into "too much, too soon" chick and are convinced he's done with you. Of course, it's most likely just in your own head, but you can forget about ever thinking about anything else but where you went wrong, for the next 24 hours. You've gone from worrying about his thinking you're a psycho stalker chick to truly being neurotic.

And meanwhile, he's sleeping easy.

Forgive me blogger, for I have sinned...

It has been 35 days since my last posting.

I have been eagerly searching out money for nothing with the "get paid to" world. Epiphanies are hitting me left and right as to how I will amass my fortunes. And for some strange reason, I'm still poor.

OK, Anthony Robbins, here goes...

Who am I?

First Response:
I'm an intelligent, strong willed, passionate, dramatic, mom; a weight obsessed food addict; an internet junkie; frustrated, insecure, self-critical, snobby, confused, lonely woman.

Expanded Response:
I'm a woman with intelligence, who is logical and analytical; I'm a mom that is trying to raise her daughter to be a good, honest person; I am passionate about ideas and things that bother me or excite me or make me happy; I am hard on myself but striving to improve; I'm an internet expert and enthusiast; I have high standards for others but more so on myself.

New Response - who I will be:
I'm a strong, confident, intelligent woman that has a passion for her work and hobbies; I'm a great mom that is trying to raise her daughter to be a good, honest and proud person; I'm beautiful and strong and a catch for some lucky man; I have accomplished a lot and worked hard for it; I'm a cancer survivor and proud; I am confident and motivated.

Morning Rambles

I didn't realize it had been about a month since my last post. I suppose it's time for something big and great and epiphany-like. However, it's just not there. I'm working hard on me, but apparently not hard enough. And that's a prime example. I need not to beat myself up for being imperfect.

I wish I could feel that spirituality and excitement for my personal growth. I wish I could believe in it so that I could start to feel it. I read a book, or listen to one on CD, about success and I just don't get excited. I need that momentum. I need to think positive, for more than just the time it takes to get through that book or CD. I need to allow myself those mini-breakdowns without worrying that the world might notice I have issues. I want to take a break from exuding inner strength...a break from having inner strength. I want not to feel like I need a break.

Inspiration

So often over the years, I've been told I'm an inspiration for my strength. I'd never felt it though. It was easy to be strong, I had no choice. There was no fighting, there was just allowing doctors to do what they needed to and my going through the motions. I didn't have to work that hard or push myself, I just showed up when and where they told me and continued on with the rest of my life as best I could. I suppose I could've become a basket case and shut off the world and stopped going through the motions...I've seen that happen. That's just not me, that didn't come naturally. Following what I'm told is "right," that's me. But I digress.

What do I find an inspiration? The people that go through those motions but do have a choice; that don't "have to" fight for their life or show up, in order to stay alive. They have a plan, a schedule, a set of rules and guidelines for keeping themselves healthy and fit. They go to the gym, without questioning whether the "feel like it" or not. They eat when they're hungry and stop, even when not full, because they know what's appropriate. They drink lots of water, no coffee, don't smoke and take vitamins and supplements. And there's no question or complaint or options. It's just their lifestyle, not a phase or means to an end.

I want that. I don't want to think about it anymore. I just want to wake up and do what's the best for my health without feeling it's a chore. I want to just go to the gym without mentally justifying not going; and be one of those people that actually enjoys it, not who stares at the clock, hoping it's almost over. I want to eat a serving and not wonder where, when and what I'm going to eat next. I want to enjoy what I eat, but without issues.

But I am who I am, though I can attempt to adjust and work on improving myself. However, I will continue to admire and find inspiration in those that do live the lifestyle without question or contempt. Because as long as I have to get my ass to the gym, and fight for my body to stay healthy and get in shape, then there will always be question and contempt.

The Queen Helene Show

If I sit back and look at my life and my friends and my family and the conversations that take place, it amazes me that I'm not watching a sitcom. The cast of characters is like nothing and everything you'd see on tv. From the annoying mother that lives in her own universe to the sidekick buddy that seems to be flooded with issues. And of course, you have the star of the show, who seems the most centered and "normal" compared to the rest of the cast. But the episode continues on and the comedy unfolds as she does, as well.

I am that leading lady. And just when it feels I'm the centered "normal" one, the phone rings, the door opens, the email arrives and the scene changes. The world around me unfolds and I feel my mind slipping away. The neurosis kicks in and I'm flustered and frenzied and becoming the center of that comedy. Sure, it's funny in hindsight, and funny to my viewers. But now I can feel Frazier Crane's angst as his father insists on keeping the ugly lazy chair in the center of his Ethan Allen living room; or Grace's frustration that she's fallen for another gay guy; or Peter Brady's fear as the lamp breaks, because mom always said "don't play ball in the house." It's only when I remember to take a step off the stage and take a look at the screen, that I can laugh.

Being in the center of a real-life sitcom is actually pretty funny most of the time...and pretty sad and frustrating and complicated at other times. The ability to laugh at yourself, though, is one of the most rewarding and grounding traits a person can have. I guess what I'm saying is that I'd much rather be a sitcom queen, than a drama queen.

A Different Perspective

Almost three years ago, when I changed cubicles, my new neighbor declared my lack of decoration boring and tacked up this poster of a seal called "A Different Perspective." Only, she hung it upside down - her reasoning being that this would be a different perspective. Two moves later, that same poster hangs in my office on a real wall, still upside down.

Three years ago, I fell in love for the first time since my divorce, with a man I thought was perfect. We seemed so compatible and happy together, had so much fun and great conversation, and amazing chemistry. And when he told me he was having a great time but I wasn't what he was looking for long term, I let the relationship continue. I told myself I was just going to enjoy the moment but most likely I'm sure I was convinced things might change. Even when he went back to his ex-girlfriend, I remained a side dish. Many trials and tribulations and a year later in that relationship, I ceased all contact with him. I was heartbroken but knew that this was the only way for me to get past it.

One year after that, on a whim, I got back in touch. I was going through chemo, a bit reminiscent of happier moments in my life, and sure I could now handle it. We saw each other a couple of times and even played around.

Our contact had been fairly infrequent over this past year, since resuming contact. Every now and then, there's a lengthy chat where I'm reminded of how much I enjoy talking and being with him. Some time ago, caught in a half-joke, he started coming over from time to time, on Tuesday nights. What our Tuesday nights amounted to are, these days, more commonly referred to as "bootie calls."

I'm coming off a year of intense health issues, so am not looking for another drama. I've had two years apart from being with him to process who he is and I'm no longer blinded by the euphoria of new love. And what I'm looking for is a distraction in my life, not a new focus. A long term relationship? Probably not. It's really all a matter of perspective...and today, I'm coming from a different perspective.

Spam Dammers!

I just had to put on word verification for my comments section, thanks to a happy spammer who kept posting crappy links on my blog.

For those who legitimately want to comment, thanks for taking the added step.

:-)

Digging Deeper

So I've given up dating with the idea that it would be unfair to my potential suitors. How can I put myself out there, have someone fall in love with me, only to die on them? I can promise you happily ever after, but I just can't tell you how long that ever after will be - it may be sooner than you'd have imagined. I feel it would be like trying to sell some sucker a lemon - sure it's a pretty car, but it may just start giving you problems here and there, slowly torturing and frustrating you until it just gives up and dies in the middle of rush hour traffic on I-95. Yep, I likened myself to a car and one that sucks. Pretty great attitude to lug around day after day. And, I've made myself into a martyr that has given up dating to potentially save a mystery man from a broken heart. What a gal!

Let's dig deeper. Let's suppose this is an excuse. Could it be that I'm worried about that man looking at me and seeing a lemon, so I cut him off at the pass? Perhaps, I put myself out there and no one is interested. Who am I saving the broken heart, him or me? Maybe it's not so much that I don't want to sell someone a lemon as that I don't want to have to sell so hard, knowing it's a lemon. Yep, self-deprecating again.

This is where I'm going wrong. In either scenario, I'm ruining any shot of happiness with someone else by not seeing myself as worthy. Am I worthy of someone loving me, if it's only for a short time? Am I worthy of being loved even if it means that someone's going to have to be my caretaker at some point? Am I worthy of being loved if my body is full of scars and my hair is not the long flowing mane it once was? Will someone find me attractive again and worthy of all the work that's involved in loving me?

It all starts with me. I need to read that paragraph and answer those questions for myself and say "hell ya!" or better yet, "duh!" If I see myself as a lemon, that's what I project. I want a man to look at me as if I'm the most beautiful, amusing, brilliant woman he's ever met. And I need to see that woman first, before I'll ever be able to enveil her to the world.

I'm not sure if it's time to start dating again, but it's definitely time to start making lemonade out of this lemon.

New Goals

1 - Programming of modern-chick.com to be completed by Sep 16. Complete content for Modern-chick by September 30.

2 - Lose the inital WW 10% by October 15.

3 - Consistently go to the gym 4x/week. Do weight training 1x/wk.

4 - Read (or audiobook) at least one self-improvement book per month - either business or personal.

5 - Get finances worked out. Create realistic budget for household spending by 10/1.

Goal assessment

Let's review the old and assess:

Goals -

1) Work 3 hours every weekend on 2shop4stuff.com until ready - get it up and complete by 11/15
NO...maybe I'll revisit this after dedicating myself to getting modern-chick.com up and running for awhile. I think I'd like to consider partnering with someone on this venture.

2) Give up sugar and white flour (no beating up for exceptions), eat less processed food after chemo is complete Oooh, sorry, no again

3) Get finances under control -

Create budget by 10/18, readjust with new salary in January
Open Pre-paid tuition for Rachel by January
Look into refinancing by 10/31

I refinanced, budget was under control only thanks to a lawsuit settlement

4) Sign Rachel up for an activity (capoeira, hip hop, gymnastics???) by 11/1
Can't remember when, but she's been doing ice skating for almost a year now

5) Get key to gym and set a schedule to work out by 11/12
That gym sucked, but have been going regularly since Memorial Day, at LA Fitness

6) Spend more weekends with Rachel
Set up calendar with Jorge by 10/15
find activities that are free or low cost by 11/1
I have her every 3rd weekend now and we keep busy with friends

7) Work on regular mountain biking schedule by 11/12
There's just no time for this with the gym routine...not quite sure this is for me anymore, other than occasionally for fun.

8) Start dating locally - quality only, must be ready for long term relationship, no "just for fun" by 11/26
I just can't do it, I have been dating, but I need to stick with low key casual for now, until I'm comfortable with myself.

9) Set new goals for the office, create a schedule of duties for myself by 10/25
Can't remember what I did here, definitely not a schedule - can't with the meetings that come about everyday. I have set goals with my boss and accomplished all - most on the timeline laid out.

10) Develop new idea for next screenplay by 12/1
Ideas are there, just not flowing nor developing

Word of the Day - Deify

A friend of mine, having recently heard from a number of former girlfriends, told me that the women seem to have deified him in their memory. Each enjoyed reminiscing on "the good old days." Even he was aware that he wasn't the great boyfriend being remembered.

It struck a chord with me. After the time apart from my old flame, touching base again, I felt I was going in with eyes wide open. I still enjoyed talking with him, and I'll admit, a "no strings" night of fun from time to time, but finally saw him as he was...imperfect and unattainable, a far cry from the way I saw him while we were together.

But loneliness and dissatisfaction will do a number on a person's memory and emotions. A long conversation and a hot night later, I found my mind wandering. An incredible lover, an amazing motivator, personable and fun and serious when it's called for, so much to offer for the long term - these were all the thoughts rolling around my mind. "What if I..." and "maybe he would..." There my brain goes into the creative area - where movie moments come true and everybody lives happily ever after.

"They all seem to be deifying me, forgetting how and why it ended." He shook me back into reality. I am one of these women, deifying my old flame, instead of remembering how his superficiality broke my heart. He's an incredible lover instead of he's a man who is screwing 3 or 4 different women at a time. He's an amazing motivator instead of a perfectionist who expects no less in others. He has so much to offer for the long term instead of he would never be with me for the long term.

Fantasy and daydreaming are fun, and quite honestly, he is a lot of fun. But I need to keep my head on straight and stop deifying a man that could very easily, if I let him, break my heart over and over again. And he really is a great man, but he's no god.

I Like My Life? Go Figure

When John told me about his successes, and the business he has in the works that will soon bring him millions, I responded "I want your life." He told me he hears that a lot.

I was thinking about it later. As much as I'd like that financial success, I don't really want his life. Not that there's anything wrong with it. He pretty much accomplishes everything he sets out to achieve, he's independent, seems incredibly happy, and he lives the life he wants to be living. Sure, I would like to say those things about myself. But in my life, not his.

I shocked myself when I heard my internal voice saying "I like my life." Holy shit, what's that about? I had the year from hell, with my health. I hate looking at myself in the mirror. There's a struggle between desperately wanting to be in a relationship and not wanting to deal with men at all, not feeling like I'm dating material. And yet, I like my life?

I don't have the big fancy house I want, or even the modest one. But I have my condo, which I've bought, decorated, maintained and made a home on my own.

I don't have a man in my life, and rarely have that spark with the ones I meet. But I do have a few good friends that are there for me and keep me busy with a social life.

I'm not overly wealthy or completely financially secure. But no longer am I struggling, as I used to, and I pay all my bills on time. I never question which bill I should pay, instead of paying them all.

My job is not paying me what I'm worth or what the industry commands. But I've grown in the company and am working towards my own business that will challenge me to get there.

I will spend the rest of my life worrying everytime there's a pain or odd feeling, that cancer will return. But for today, I have no evidence of disease.

I cry, and feel sad and frustrated and angry and confused. But I also laugh. I laugh a lot.

So, if anyone's paying attention out there. I take it back. I don't want his life. I just want to accomplish what I set out to achieve, be happy and independent, and live the life I want to be living, like he does. And I think I'd also ask for the confidence and peace of mind to appreciate the life I have today. I think I'm on my way.

Survivor's Guilt

"In the special case of chronic illness, survivor guilt can occur after the deaths of peers who faced the same diagnosis. By definition, there is an implied comparison with people who have endured similar ordeals."

"Survivor guilt explores the other side of the coin of why me? --namely, why not me? "

"Some survivors may keep a low profile to avoid spotlighting this contrast of outcomes."

"Survivor guilt may exist for a reason...It may help survivors cope with the helplessness and powerlessness of being in a life-threatening situation without the ability to protect or save others."

© 2004 Brain Tumor Society

All About Me

I hate making this all about me but that's where my brain keeps going back. My mom just called me about an hour ago to tell me that my uncle had passed. At first, not a tear, and I wasn't expecting that.

I want to cry for him but when the tears started, it was all about me. My aunt and uncle didn't seem to have such a great marriage, until later on, after the kids were out. They did everything together and flirted and talked about their sex life like they were teenagers. They had their til death do us part. I want that.

And then it really came back to all about me. This could be my "next time." I take for granted that I beat cancer twice already. But did I? Does anyone really beat it or do we just spend the rest of our lives waiting for it to come back? Cancer kills. It may not have killed me yet, but it killed him. What happens when there's no more body parts left to remove through surgery? My chemo was preventative, what if I needed it to save me? It didn't save him.

And they're looking at me now. My mother told me how she's so grateful and gives prayers of thanks to G-d that I survived this, especially after seeing him last week. I fear his family will look at me and wonder why I'm still here and he's not. I don't want anyone looking at me.

But I need to be there and show my aunt and cousins that I'm with them, that I'm just like them, saying goodbye to a family member whom we lost to Cancer. And I need for a moment to be about him and about them and not show them the tears of what this means to me.

Practice

She looks to her left and can only imagine what those women must be thinking. They've got no clue. Grabbing the end of her sleeve into her fist, she uses the back of her hand to wipe the tears away.

Her eyes go back down below, watching her daughter on the ice. A small smile finds its way to the corner of her lips. Not graceful at all, but damn, she's cute.

The big puzzle that has been left unsolved for the past 10 years is finally starting to come together. The pieces still need to be moved around and turned a few times to fit into place. But she's almost there.

"It's not about me, it's about her." That inner voice is speaking, telling her to look in another direction. "He wanted me here. He needed me here for her. He still needs me. She needs me."

Most people question "why me" when something horrible goes wrong. Not her. She questions why she was saved, spared; why she lives to face it again someday. Peace would finally come, if not. The calm she craves more than anything.

Another tear forms, as the blonde figure skates in a circle, trying so hard and smiling at her teacher. That little baby grew into this little person. And she loves and trusts and sees her mommy, and never questions it for a moment. Her daughter has no idea how lucky her mother feels to have her; how happy she makes her and how much more she means to her than to a woman who has carried her child.

But at this moment, this woman realizes that they were gifts to each other. She realizes that He gave her to the child to watch out for her, to be the mommy that she needs, that she deserves. And it was He that saved her, not once but twice, from the disease. The first time to await her birth, the next to continue to protect and guide and love her like no other could. She hopes that one day, should her time no longer be required, her daughter will know what an honor it was to have held that place in her universe.

Daydreams

I thought about what it would have been like to have you there, going through chemo. I didn't let anyone in, and I didn't want anyone to see me. The one time I had someone with me, I squirmed, so upset that I wouldn't have my privacy. But I daydreamed that you were with me.

My mind was fuzzy, as the Adivan normally did to me. But I opened my eyes and looked at you. You smiled that goofy grin, yet said nothing. I tensed up from the butterflies of the adrenaline rush caused by the anti-histamine. You reached your hand onto my shoulder and massaged it, trying to relax me. I look into your eyes as mine start to tear. I blink the tears down to my cheeks as I drift off, once again.

I fade back into reality and feel those same tears rolling down my cheek. If only.

Another Dedication to the Clueless

I am constantly amazed by people who have no clue who they are. Sure, they can rattle off how they describe themselves, what they do for a living, what they want. But so much of the time, the adjectives are so far off of reality, I wonder where the hell they came up with that.

Yep, back to Jdate. An intelligent, hottie guy contacts me with a one-liner and the back and forth ensue. He flirts, I flirt, the phone number is passed. This man has presented himself as an intellectual, deep, spiritual marlboro man of an adventurer. The voice indicates the wizard has come out from behind the curtain.

He starts by talking about his indian name and Geronimo and dancing with wolves, moves on to his lobbying for the ACLU, switches into the universe will present me with the next experience bullshit, then asks why I think we're opposites.

As I begin to answer, he interrupts with the next question and before I can utter my "well, I..." he throws in a "women are so predictable." I inquire how I'm predictable and he moves on to a different question, why am I so confused? I tell him I'm not confused at all. Apparently my saying it's too early in the call to know if I'm interested makes me confused, since my email showed otherwise. "Sometimes the online and offline personas are not the same," I explained.

He keeps throwing out question after question without letting me answer, gets annoyed that I used the word "passionate" in a way to mean something other than sexual, and pretty much has the entire conversation on his own - putting the words into my mouth. He had the nerve to say "this is why I hate Jewish women" after meeting me on a Jewish dating site and leave me still not knowing why, this morning. He tells me I like to fight and he doesn't want a woman who wants to fight. I said "well, what is it you want? You keep trying to start that fight and making me defend myself." He says "I want peace. I want someone who's laid back and easy going." Good luck there, buddy. I was a lot more laid back until you came along.

Eventually, I discover what's making him mad. The cowardly wizard thought he was getting laid. "You shouldn't flirt if you don't mean it," he says. "I'm a flirt, but what is that supposed to mean?" He responds with a "okay, bye" and hangs up on me.

Amazing to me. This guy says he wants peace, yet he's the one stirring up the conflict. He believes he's this deep spiritual soul, yet he's not got the depth to even ask a single question about who I am or where I've been. He's waiting for the universe to show him the signs for his next adventure, yet he's got no clue how to read them.

If I hadn't just blocked him, I would've told him that before we can explore the world, we have to explore ourselves. And get a clue!

Juggling

So just when I decide no more dating, they come out of the woodwork. So now I need to figure out the math. If I only take my phone calls after 9 pm, and am usually asleep by 10 pm, how do I juggle 4 men calling to chat. I've managed to sneak in an 8:30 "I'm sorry, wanted to go to bed early so called you instead" call, to be available for a 9 o'clock call with the next bachelor. Then I can pretty much count on the night owl to either call at 10 on the nose or wake me up from a deep sleep to chat. There are two others that I've been moving around on different nights. However, at this very moment, I am expecting them both to call.

I've learned not to tell too many stories or I end up doing a "I thought I told you this" followed by "I told you this already? Sorry." Mysterious works, as well as the interview. Ask lots of questions and pay attention to the answers. Make sure you know who said what. I just screwed that up tonight by mentioning the Broadway Mall to the wrong guy. This one would have no clue what that is. It worked out though, he thanked me for telling him about the Nathan's at Broward Mall. Nope, wasn't me.

Anyway, wish me luck. I always sucked at juggling.

An Ode to "Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover"

We hear it over and over, but do we really live it. I recently was reminded of that familiar phrase, and again it was proven to be true.

Reaching my final day on jdate, I took a last look at my "matches." One guy looked like a total punk with weird chin hair and cut sleeves, tattoos and earring, and no kids. Sooooo not my type. For kicks, I opened his profile. Interestingly enough, he had great essays, writes, seemed very intelligent, funny and romantic...and he was online.

I shot him a quick email that said "hey, I think we have the same couch." We've chatted online for the past two nights, for a couple of hours each. We actually have a lot in common, plus he's very intellligent, witty and sweet, very much a gentleman and okay with adoption (he was adopted himself). Best of all, we both like pralines 'n cream, admit on our profiles that we're not physically active and prefer the Brady Bunch to Partridge Family.

I don't know if anything will come of this, but just wanted to get back to my original subject. I'm glad I didn't let his appearance stop me from reading his profile and chatting with him.

Dear Sherri,

Response to an e-mail from my friend


Wow, I'm jealous. It seems as though things are falling into place for you. I guess I need to move across the country to lose weight and get some men interested.

Nothing exciting to report here. I joined LA Fitness on Saturday (there's a new one by Winston Park), hoping that if I start moving my ass, I'll be more inspired to eat right and it'll keep me out of the house for an extra hour and a half in the evenings and away from the frig.

Once again, I've done the hokie pokie and pulled myself out of dating. I went out a few times with the [guy] that looked good on paper, but I wasn't really thrilled with him and my feelings must've been reciprocated b/c once I slept with him, I never heard from him again. And I wasn't about to contact him and give him the satisfaction of thinking I was that into him or that I'm a psycho chick.

There are a couple of guys I'm talking with on the phone, but not feeling desperate enough to attempt moving forward. I really need to get my weight in order and hair growing before I'll feel confident enough to go out and try to meet someone. It's just difficult, because like all us single gals, I get lonely for companionship.

It sounds like you and "D" are progressing, but slowly. That's a good thing. But it also sounds like you're not so sure because you're still actively going out looking for other guys (i.e., "J"). I'd keep it up...and listen to your instincts. My instinct told me this guy wasn't right but I wanted it so bad to work that I allowed myself to sleep with him with that sinking feeling that he wasn't very enamored with me. And I need that...I need to be put on the pedestal and to be with a guy that thinks I'm the bomb. I'm just too insecure to be with someone that is lukewarm.

Anyway, the camping was fun, but too hot and stressful with getting a big group organized and planning activities. The conference was phenomenal. It was great going from dirty yucky sweaty camping to a luxury resort and conference center with other professionals in my industry. I really needed that quiet time away from people. Of course, there were tons of people there, but no one was up my ass for attention. I went with two very low key women - they were very sweet and friendly, but relaxed. I've gotten so used to my demanding friends chewing my ear off and looking to go out partying when the kids aren't around. I even chose not to take calls from my friends back here, to allow myself that quiet time. I also learned a lot at the conference sessions and enjoyed being treated like a VIP by the vendors. We got a free night at Islands of Adventure - they opened to just the conference attendees and had 3 of the big rides open with no lines, free play at the arcade, food, drinks, dj with dancing...it was great! I hated coming back home.

I really love my friends but have recently been disheartened by the attitudes and intelligence levels. I really only have one friend here that's not a drama queen and is also a professional, like me. (not that I don't have drama queen moments). I have a friend from Jax that has taken to calling me every morning on my commute and just talking incessantly about bullshit...and she's got no clue that she's making a short story reallllly long and what's mountains are nothing but molehills.

Speaking of short story long, huh?

Prom Queen

Something I figured out, as I was talking it through, was that the three men that have been most significant in my dating share a common element. They all made me feel like they were honored to be with me. They made me feel like I was prom queen and they were the regular joe who got lucky. It may not have been what they were actually thinking, and may not be the reality of the situation, but they made me feel that good.

This new one, although he goes through the motions and is a good date, gentleman and sweet guy, just doesn't make me feel special. And I think I need that. It may be spoiled or narcissistic of me to want to be put on a pedestal and adored and admired, but that's just what works for me.

The thing is, when you try so hard to make it happen, because a fit seems there, you compromise what you want. Certain concessions I'm willing to make, but giving up being adored is not one of them. I want to be with someone I adore and I promise he will feel it from me, so I guess I expect the same in return.

It's too bad, he truly is a good fit, as far as lifestyle and personality go. But I'm not sure he really finds me to be wonderful, so much as he just finds me to be...there.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Jinx

I took my ass back to Jdate, after seeing my friend who met her husband there. So I trade some witty IMs with a guy, talk briefly on the phone, then move on to the longer 1-hour phone call. Something really scary happened. It fit. The conversation flowed, we learned more about our business lives and we speak each other's speak.

But of course, I don't want to say that out loud. I'm afraid I'll jinx it. From the first phone call, I got this feeling that he's right for me...not just a crush or romantic flirtation, but our lifestyles and personalities go well. Yet, now I'm sure it's got to go wrong somewhere because if I'm actually thinking positive that'll jinx it.

So, as predicted, the next phone call was not so hot - too many questions and comments about appearance and requesting more pictures. He was slowly losing points. However, we continued on and moved on to date number one.

Here I am today, the day after. And I'm terrified to say what's really on my mind because I'm going to jinx it. The date went well, very well. I like him, he fits. But it's early yet. There, I've said it and now I'm jinxed.

I guess it's a risk I have to take. Doesn't everyone talk about the power of positive thinking. I'm going to try and keep that mind set. It's time, I'm ready and it will happen. Maybe he's not the one, but he could be.

Jinx jinx jinx. Too bad!

Overanalyzing Again

I don't know why I'm still nitpicking on my relationship with John (G), but I am. I guess it comes out of the frustration of having to start dating all over again, and not feeling that spark or compatibility with anyone new. And when we start new, after something that we thought was good, we end up always comparing it to that one before. I'm looking for that best friend again, someone that makes me laugh, someone that I'm dying to call when something good or bad happens, someone I can be happy laying around with saying or doing absolutely nothing. And it's all his fault.

Last night, I got annoyed. I'm angry all over again. First of all, from the very beginning, I told him that since neither one of us were relocateable, that we would never be more than friends. He was warned not to romance me or pursue me because it would probably work; and he swore he wasn't, but of course, he was. You don't talk on the phone for hours at a time, several times a day, emailing and IMing in between those calls, with just a friend. He knew he was reeling me in.

And I'm also angry that he chickened out when we both realized it was so much more. I finally allowed myself to become attached and rely on him and love him, and he admitted those feelings for me, and he gave me my movie moment, and then he bailed. We finally got to the visit where our real feelings were out in the open and we were able to express and enjoy them while physically together and he got scared and pushed me away. He used the excuse that we got carried away, as a reaction to my health crisis. But I knew...I knew he couldn't deal with these feelings and not being able to be with me because of the distance. He dragged me into this and then wussied out.

Lastly, I'm pissed at him to figure out that I've been no different than every other sucker that falls for him. Every last one of us believes that we're special, believes that they have a best friend in him, believes that we would make such a great family together. It's a shtick. Yes, I was the only one to get an "I love you" out of him, as more than a friendly "luv ya," but it was fleeting. It pains me to know that he may just lump me in with the rest of the spreadsheet, that I was just one more foolish woman that got carried away, thinking we were something more than the rest.

Mostly, I'm pissed at myself for allowing this to happen and for those weak moments when I still regret not being able to be with him and dream of being at peace with our picket fence in Stepford and our happy ending.

Decisions Decisions

It's incredibly frustrating to find yourself dating and chatting and putting yourself out there, yet not feel compatibility or excitement with any of them. Sure, there are nice ones, funny ones, hot ones...but that doesn't necessarily mean they will all come in the same person, nor click with you.

I go back and forth between putting the full strategic marketing plan into action and pulling all materials from the shelf. I feel like I want to get out there and meet them and find someone that'll fit, but then it gets old when no one is doing it for me. So I start using the excuse "I'm just not ready." Anyone read "He's Just Not That Into You?" That's a bullshit excuse. For the right person, we're always ready.

Legitimately, though, I don't feel I'm at my most attractive with my short post-chemo 'do. Call it a Pixie, call it Lesbian Biker Bar Chic. Either way you look at it, it's not sexy to anyone but other women.

What's really best, though? Do I banish myself to the land of celibacy and girls' nights out until my hair grows another 5 inches and I lose those 40 pounds? Or, do I continue to date, with the feel-good, politically correct notion that the right man will love me warts and all? We all know it's great in theory, but if there are only 3 men looking, what are the chances he'll be in that group of 3?

And what are the chances that someone reading this post is going to be thinking "you have to love yourself first before someone else can love you?" Speaking of feel-good politically correct theories.

That Wild Hair Again

My list of male prospects has whittled down to almost none. Every now and then, I get a call from a guy I went out with a few times, last month. However, he seems to neglect to ask me out, or we end up fighting. The man just doesn't know how to flirt. Yet, I like him. Don't ask me why, some spark is just unexplicable.

I decided that it's just not going to happen as a relationship, and nothing's really taking off with anyone else, so it's time to give in and allow the bootie call. A tentative date is planned and the majority of that day goes by with no confirmation or follow-up call. A cutie gives me a call and asks me on a first date. I accept.

Bad state of mind to go into with for a first date. My mind is on the bootie call, i.e., sex; and I'm bored with the lack of excitement in my dating life. I'm an easy target. The guy who asked me out is very cute, but I just didn't find a spark on the phone. He's an absolute sweetheart, but the flirtation is missing. I need fire and teasing and banter. I actually decided before I went out with him, that if he were cute but I felt no potential, that "I'd do him."

That's awful, eh? It gets worse. He's as sweet as pie, tells me right off the bat that I'm cuter than my pictures and we sit and talk for two hours. No, actually, he talks for two hours, but that's irrelevant here. No potential and he's adorable. So when he asks to kiss me, things start looking up. Fast forward through a "your place or mine" scenario and we're on my bed. He told me straight out that he was still interested in seeing me and pursuing this, that the first date sex made no difference to him. He left it to me to make the call and let him know if I were still interested.

I won't drag this post on. I learned something new about myself, that night. For all the complaining my friends and I may do about the superficiality of men not wanting us chubby chicks, I found myself relating. I can not believe that I would actually make a decision based on a man's penis size. But I did. If we had met taken our time and fallen in love first, size wouldn't matter. However, that's not how it happened. He was great with his mouth, but if oral sex were enough, I'd be a lesbian.

I feel so guilty, but I also know I can't continue to date a man because I feel guilty over not wanting to date him. You live, you learn.

Naked

I did it. I took the wig off. I've done it before, on the weekend and in Mexico, but today's a first. I went to the office sans fake hair protecting my face. And I can't even wear eye make-up, thanks to the Lasik I had on Thursday, to distract people from the fact that I have this short little pixie.

Tomorrow I remove the port from my chest, and the only remnants of the cancer are the new scars - physical and emotional. Onward and upward. My hair will grow, time will heal some of the wounds and the count will begin again. I've been cancer-free (or NED - no evidence of disease) for 10 months...G-d willing, I'll be counting until I die of old age.

But for now, I have major stomach issues, from nerves. Today is the first day my co-workers see me without the wig. The buzz has already begun. I've had about 5 visitors come "check me out." I have to remember that this is my issue, and no one else's. It's all in my head. No one really cares what my hair looks like, nor will judge me.

I've avoided being the poster child for cancer, but I almost feel like it's time. It's time for me to make a statement by wearing this hair as my purple heart. I've got nothing to be ashamed of, and I should be proud. This hairdo is one of the battle scars from my war with cancer. I survived and I'm here another day to remind the world. I may not be at my most attractive, but there's more to me than what I look like...and what I look like today proves that. Today, everyone can see me - my real hair and my battle scars.

And I feel so naked.

The Worst Kind

Harry: There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.
Sally: Which one am I?
Harry: You're the worst kind. You're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.

I've always maintained that I'm low maintenance. I figure I'm really easy to please. Make enough money to pay the bills plus eat out every so often and be prepared for emergencies. Buy me flowers on Valentine's Day, open the door and tell me I'm pretty. Jeans and tee-shirts for running errands, jeans and pearls for a date. No fancy restaurants needed and no long walks on the beach. I'm good with the sports grill and renting a video. I love my weekend getaways, but am good with the Quality Inn over the Sheraton. I shop at Wal-Mart and Target, buy my name brands on eBay or from a van in the alley. Ok, so I need Helman's and Heinz over store brand, but it's just condiments. And once a year I want a real vacation, and not one where I have family and friend visiting obligations.

Uh oh, it starts there. I'm slowly learning that I may not be SOOOOO low maintenance. Could I be getting more demanding as I age? Or could I just be more willing to admit that I want a little more than the basics? You can take the girl out of Long Island, but you can't take the Long Island out of the girl.

I took my daughter to Cancun last week for Spring Break. I knew the hotel wouldn't be as impressive as the one we'd stayed at the last time, but I figured there were pools, a beach, a kids' club and all-inclusive amenities. What's one less star REALLY mean? Well, it means that the run down jungle gym that took me three days to discover was their version of the kids' club. And it means that if you're on the all-inclusive plan, the waiters won't come to you at the pool, you've got to get your ass up and go get your own drink. And it means that your bathroom smells like sewer and they clean all the dirty plates and cups around the pool just one time a day. And worst of all, it means no room service! I swore I'd never go back there and from now on, I'd pay a few more dollars to ensure my luxury.

I've also learned I'm a little more demanding, since I've reentered the local dating scene. My southern gentleman spoiled me and now I expect a man to open my doors. Not too bad, I'm sure you're thinking. But I even will sit and wait in the car for him to come around and let me out. I get the WTF look through the window as they're already 10 yards away from the car and I'm still sitting there.

I expect a man to offer to come to me and to have a plan. What do you mean "do I want to meet somewhere in the middle?" Hello, this is a first date, you're supposed to try and impress me. Date's off. "So where do you want to go?" Sorry pal, you asked me out, you'd better make a suggestion, at least. Don't leave me to figure it out when I'm supposed to meet you somewhere in 10 minutes. Indecisive doesn't fly with me.

I always offer to contribute to the check when we eat out. Usually, that offer is declined. Yesterday, I offered to pay towards lunch. "No, that's ok, you can get the movie." He's out. He mentioned the last girl being a gold digger. I'm not after his money, I'm after a gentleman. If he were broke, I'd almost understand. This was a first date, at least attempt to impress me with chivalry. If you don't have a lot of money, then suggest something cheap for our date, like going for a walk somewhere...I won't even notice you're saving money.

Another guy I've been seeing calls but doesn't ask me out. I inquire why not and he responds that he's broke. He's made it past the first three dates, I don't need him to pay for a meal anymore. See, I'm not that bad. But his car was in the shop and I was annoyed that he didn't figure out a way to come see me. Demanding? A bit.

So, I'm ready. I'm ready for a quality vacation, and I'm ready for a quality man... and I'm ready to admit that I'm not quite low maintenance. I want the romance and I want it from a gentleman that's going to show me that he believes I'm worth the extra steps it takes. I'm worth 15 more minutes in the car, and walking around to open the door and paying for the first date (which not need to be expensive, mind you) and I'm worth borrowing a car to come see and I'm worth paying a compliment or two. If he doesn't believe that, then he's not the right guy.

Does all this make me high maintenance? If so, then I will accept it and admit it...but for now I'll say I'm high maintenance-ish. I still buy store brand mustard. :-)

When It Rains, It Pours

Yep, I'm dating again. I've broken through the black hole of match.com and finally found a few that didn't disappear after sending the first wink, email or asking me out for coffee.

It all started with Elvis and took off from there.

Last week, on a whim, and not having my daughter on a school night, I was having a first phone call with someone I'd been emailing with. At 10, I said we could've been out for coffee and home already with all the time we spent on the phone. The suggestion sparked the reality and I was in the car on the way to meet Bachelor #1. He was very friendly and complimentary, but I really wasn't feeling the spark. I still thought I might see him again because you just never know.

At the same time, Bachelor #2 emerged from the black hole. We had emailed and he gave me his number and asked me to call. I left a message and never heard back. I gave my match.com membership and profile for all of 5 days but realized when I wasn't getting my refund to get back on there. I reactivated and sent him an email: "whatever happened to you?" He wrote back that he had deleted my number figuring he had it on caller ID, but I had done a call block so he lost it...and then my profile was missing. I granted him his stay of execution and he and I have a date for tomorrow. There was no great banter on the phone, but he's good relationship material, very nice and very local...and flat out looking for a long term relationship. What a refreshing change of attitude from the men I've dated over the past 3 years.

Also, Bachelor #3 wasn't much of an email guy and sent me his phone number. Usually I require some online chatting up front but I figured I've missed out on this stuff for almost 9 months so let's cut to the chase. Great banter, lots of teasing and yet we're both left wondering what the heck is he/she thinking. Pure trouble, but isn't that the most fun? We had our first date yesterday afternoon, for lunch, when I joked "where are we going for lunch," on the phone. He took me up on it and about an hour and a half later he was down from West Palm Beach for lunch. He left me hanging with a mysterious smirk and my not knowing whether he liked me or not. Five hours later, he drove down again from WPB and we had date number two. He had been given the warning that just because I let him into my house, doesn't mean he's making it to the bedroom. A lot of teasing and wondering on both sides what the other was really thinking, and then finally he asked me straight out "so, are you interested?" Duh! I told him when a woman throws her legs across his lap, it's a good sign. He told me if I didn't want to find out whether he was interested then I should remove my legs because I'd be feeling it pretty soon. I finally got a "you're so cute" out of him. Sheesh! What's it take to get a compliment in this town??? He reminded me that nothing would happen since he'd been given a stern warning and he was being a gentleman and respectful. GRRRRR, kiss me damnit!!! We ended it with a hug, he kissed the top of my head, then as he walked out the door turned and said "call me tomorrow, please." He's fun, I like that one. Not sure about potential for long term, but we'll see.

Back at the ranch, I've still been emailing with another nice gentleman who has my number but has yet to take the initiative to call. You snooze you lose buddy.

I Went Out with Elvis and He Brought Along Neil Diamond

I took a chance and went on a date with my first match.com guy that didn't disappear into the black hole. I knew he was an entertainer and comedian, but I finally got out of him that one of his shticks is being an Elvis impersonator.

Saturday night I was supposed to be going out with my friend and meeting my cousin at Crabby Jack's for Karaoke Night. It was the first weekend in three that I didn't have my daughter and I was ready to go play. I'd also invited Elvis, who I later realized I'd seen perform at Karaoke Night a few months earlier, to come join us. In the end, the friend and cousin bailed, so I tracked Elvis down to let him know I wouldn't be there. At that point, he mentioned his friend to me, a nice man that helps him with his gigs and likes to go to Karaoke Night, as well. Turns out he's the famous "Tony Diamond" from Crabby's...I knew exactly who he is. Elvis turned it around on me and invited me to go take Tony out for karaoke, somewhere else.

It was a lovely little get together. I never really spoke with Tony before, all those times I'd seen him at Crabby's. He's a very nice man (who apparently has something he takes thorazine for) and was a gentleman. Elvis took me to his van to listen to some of his CD's, both his Garth Brooks and other impersonator ones and some original songs. Another nice guy, but I could tell he wasn't attracted. Extra points for still being friendly despite that. I knew as soon as I saw his weightlifter physique and hearing a few questions about whether men hit on me when I went out, I had a feeling he wouldn't be attracted to me.

I thanked them both for a nice evening and we went our separate ways. The next day, I sent the thank you email and let Elvis know that even if there were no love connection, I always enjoy making new friends. He responded that he would be honored to be my friend. We've exchanged a few light emails, as such, since. I'm sure I'll see him around again, but as for dating...onward and upward!

Ommmmmmmmm

It's been awhile since I've written, so I've got to push myself back a couple of weeks. I think we have the psychosis under control now. I'm not feeling completely relaxed, but I do have a sense of calm back. I still get excited and rushed and a little bit fidgety, but it's about 95% back to my baseline quirkiness.

So I am put on some medication that we'll just call a "mood stabilizer" to help with my racing thoughts and what I see as compulsiveness. Dr. Always Runs Late But No One Warns Me When I Call Ahead to Confirm believes this will help with my weight, as well. And I'm all thrilled at the prospect of the miracle drug that will help me gain my composure and work alongside my theory of overeating as a form of OCD. However, as I'm scratching my body raw and noticing these ugly bumps, Dr. Always Runs Late But No One Warns Me When I Call Ahead to Confirm asks me if I'm having any side effects. As I'm scratching away, I say no and then the lightbulb comes on. "Ohhhhh, that's what this rash must be from." She agrees, yet advises me to up the dosage but call if the rash gets worse. Fast forward to the rash getting worse, the doctor being on vacation and the office advising me to call my regular doctor.

Second issue is that I'm not feeling better. I'm embarrassed that people around me sense that I'm losing my mind and I'm starting to feel sick, that I'm really sick and it's screwing with my brain. I hate the thought that I'm the same drug that they give to people with OCD and Bipolar Disorder, regardless of whether it's also the drug now being prescribed to help with weight loss. I focus on the crazy indications. So I feel crazy and I'm walking around scratching all day...not attractive and definitely appears as crazy. Crazy is as crazy does?

I spend the weekend with two friends. One, without question, has serious issues. I know there's arguments that I shouldn't bother having with her, because they stem from her issues and nothing that I've done or said. The other one seems at peace, relaxed, takes life as it comes and faces challenges on a daily basis that I couldn't imagine. I decide that I don't want to be perceived the same way as the one with the issues and if the other one can find peace with her bumps in the road, so can I. That's it, meds are gone, I'm going to learn to just relax and stop with the drama. And that's what I did.

Today, I finally did go to my regular doctor - two weeks and major scratching and bruises from scratching later - to take care of the rash. It should be gone by the time I hit Niagara Falls for my Single Parents Mingle GTG, the motherload of get togethers, and hopefully, I'll be 98% back to me.

Now the original me will probably never exist again. She's got some new war wounds and issues to contend with, and a hell of a lot less hair. But change is good. We'll find out how others deal with it.

I'm Sorry, But...

What a week...and I'm so glad it's over. I just reread that last post and I realize that a lot of what I regret saying are complaints. I hate to complain. I don't "vent." I hate feeling like I'm whining. I always add a caveat before I speak or warn the person I'm speaking to that "I don't like to be negative, but..."

You know what? Too bad. If the shit is hitting the fan, the boss should know. And she should help me and not look at me like "why are you telling me and what the hell do you expect me to do about it?" I'm a work in progress here. I do not have 10 years of management experience and she knows that. How does she know that? Because she promoted me and she held back that promotion a good long time, until recently. Yes, there's much I can and should figure out on my own. But I run my group fairly autonomously and if I get to the point where I'm telling her something is a problem, then, for me, it's obvious that I need some direction for my next step. She's not another buddy that I need for venting. I'm not a ventor.

And outside of work, sometime life really does suck. My cup will always be half full, but the half that's empty is really kicking me in the ass. It's hard to keep quiet and take it like a trooper, all the time. On some days - ok, periodically throughout the day - I may get bitchy or anxious or sarcastic or just plain batty. And yes, I may complain about my job or my home or my parents or my clothes or my looks. I may complain, incessantly, on one given day. I shouldn't have to apologize or warn people that they are about to hear crap come flying out of my mouth. No one does that for me when I hear it. But still, I do.

Why do I feel this need to apologize or warn or feel guilty or embarrassed for being negative or complaining? Because I know how I feel being on the receiving end. I hate it. I find it horribly annoying to listen to people complain for hours on end about how life sucks. I was the one prompting my buddies and cousins to see the half of their cup that was full, to grab life by the balls and be happy. I want that back. I want to feel that happiness, that verve, that zest, that optimism. Yet, I don't. And I hate that. So, I apologize.

Stop the Ride

No big post here. I'm all over the place. I don't feel like me. And I want me back. I like the quirkiness I've always seemed to have, but now it's not so cute. I feel crazy.

I want to take life as it comes. I want to feel passionate about things, without flipping out. I don't want to panic. I don't want to act and then later wonder what the heck I did and said and why. I want to just stop and relax and not worry about what the world must be thinking.

Remember Me?

Yesterday, I was reminded of why my ex-husband stopped taking me to the movies 10 years ago. I cry. And I don't just cry where everyone else in the theater does. I'll cry at 10 minutes after the quirky touching scene - after the film itself has moved on. And I'll cry for a good hour after the movie is over wondering why my life can't be like that if it was a really good one.

I've always loved the movies but it's been a while since I've been in "the zone." I completely disappear and become a part of the movie and completely emotionally involved with the characters, or even become one of those characters. I analyze the moments, the players, the colors, backgrounds, music, clothing and imagine where the scenes would go if not constricted by Hollywood - if this were not a film what would be going on.

Sometimes, I become that person up there on the screen. My brain will take me deeper into his psyche, his past or future and then I have analyzed him so much that I lost track of the storyline altogether. I may be left in tears or elated or so emotionally charged that I'm empowered for the next week. I can also be left disheartened for two.

Yesterday was a double feature. First was Sideways. I wanted to know what the hype was about and I'll give you the quick "overrated" for Oscar-worthiness, but they were VERY REAL characters. How many of us geeks or schlubs get stuck with these troublemaking cool friends for a lifetime that we picked up in high school or college that later turn into the schlubs as they age? I know you may be thinking that's not what it was about but I analyze my way, you analyze yours. Back to me...boy did I cry for Miles. I cried throughout the entire film, I could feel his pain at being him.

I was going to go home from there, but knew I needed a pick me upper. The Wedding Date. Oscar-worthy? Hellllll no! Girly fun-worthy? Hellllll ya! A little bit of backwards Pretty Woman and it could've been beefed up some more, but it was just what I needed to cheer me up after the last one. But I cried at this one too, at all different non-sensical moments. A big epiphany given to us women, and one we saw in the commercials, is that we all have the love life we want. And I'm starting to think "uh oh" what am I doing wrong? But then I remember "this is a movie! The screenwriter is not Buddha!" I feel better. It did remind me though about my love for romantic comedies and my need for Dermot Mulroney to be an inch away from my lips with his. But I digress.

Remember me? I'm the one whose husband stopped taking her to the movies because she saw The Mirror Has Two Faces and cried for an hour after, demanding to know why her husband didn't sing to her from the streets. I found her today.

Breakthroughs

Breakthrough 1: If people are going to read this, I may want to update it every now and then. I just discovered that my new friend has linked to my blog from his blog. How very kind! Let's hope that the gentleman I called a wack never finds his way here.

Breakthrough 2: I realized that I really don't like who I seem to be becoming. I always knew I didn't like what I look like, but now I'm not so sure I even like my personality. I'm turning into my aunts and cousins - the ones that think they're helping you out with constructive criticism and leave you balled up in the fetal position in the corner of the room crying your eyes out.

Breakthrough 3: It's all my mom's fault. The stereotypical scenario of a psychological breakthrough usually involves discovering it's your mom's fault so it shouldn't have been too much of a breakthrough.

Issues

Finally met with the psychiatrist today. I was so proud to call my friend, after the session and let her know I'm not depressed. Her response, "I knew you're not depressed, you're just a bitch."

Woo hoo! I'm really reveling in the new found freedom that comes with not being perfect, with acknowledging that I do, in fact, have issues.

I get batty when things are not running on schedule. I hate if it seems I'm running late and G-d help you if you are running late.

I can not deal with chaos. One kid, two kids, I'm still ok. Five kids running in circles around the house chasing each other and I start banging my head like Rainman.

I am an intellectual snob. There, I said it, are you happy? I don't share my feelings and thoughts because I'm convinced you won't get it. Maybe I am a bitch. It's an issue.

There are so many more ways to elaborate on those examples but they're just the minor details of the point. The point is I'm okay with not being perfect, not being calm, not going with the flow, not being the cool one. I've got quirks and I flip out and yes, I have issues!

It's Already Out There

Well I did it. I went on a date. With a local. Wow!

For the past year and a half, I have been on dating hiatus. Yes, I was involved with two men and quasi-involved with another, but those don't count as dating. None lived locally. If they're not local, you can't go on a date. You can chat online, talk on the phone and plan visits, but you can not date. This is why I consider it a dating hiatus.

For the past 9 months, I have removed myself from the market - outside of those long distance romances, which were not supposed to be "exclusive" but that's another topic for another day - and have been in a self-inflicted exile. I needed to deal with my illness and did not make for the greatest catch. I leaned on my out-of-town sweetie for awhile and he was a wonderful distraction and support. But going through this experience made me realize how important it is to have someone by your side. Physically.

I go back and forth on whether it's time. The treatments are done, I'm considered healthy and I have the time. But my hair's not back yet. I still don't feel so attractive and hate the idea of having to explain why you can't put your hands through my hair while we're kissing.

I did it anyway. I put myself out there. I got myself a little crush on an online writer and decided to send him a note. Emails ensued and then the IMs and the date was set. Holy Shit, I was going on a date.

I like him, but I knew from the phone call, even before the date, that he wouldn't be right for me. The offline persona didn't match the online persona - again, another topic for another time. But I went on that date, regardless. I had fun, he's a good guy, just not relationship material for me...and I don't need another fling and don't believe in "friends with benefits." I have too many issues - the "it's not you, it's me" cliche is playing in my head.

The good part in this is I realized it's time. It's time for me to stop hiding and get my ass out there. I put myself out there, it didn't happen, and I survived and I even had fun! Will I find Mr. Right on the next date? It could happen. Or maybe not. Doesn't matter. The dating has begun. I can't take it back, it's already out there.

I Hate Overture

Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! I am quickly losing my patience for online customer support. Where the heck is a damn phone number. I can't find what I'm looking for and I need this fixed now!!! Click here, then here, then read a million FAQs that I would never ask and then find that damn link to write a customized complaint ticket.

Overture owns the online world right now and I'm going nuts! I think Google and Overture have a conspiracy against me to make my brain explode with functionality that only exists on one and not the other and vice versa. Why won't they both fix it all?! I want to see other peoples PPC bids on Google and I want Overture to let me just add new keywords without having to rewrite the damn add when I think of one!

UGHHHHHHHH!!!!!! I need to find my happy place. Good thing I'm off to the dentist.

The "Massage"

So I forgot to waste work time going over the "massage" story. I just have to get this down though. I don't want to forget the beauty and irony here.

I decided to get a massage to help alleviate the incredible stress I've been feeling. Of course, I decide this at 4:30 on a Saturday afternoon, knowing full well that no place will be able to take me on short notice and no place will even be open on a Sunday. So, I start my search online and find the Body & Soul Retreat - open Sundays. Woo hoo! I call. The gentleman is very kind. He tells me there's one opening left. I explain my need for sensitivity because I want to do this without the wig. He's very enthusiastic about helping me and explains how there are massages that work on your lymphatic system, and that he's got the perfect person to do it. He even rearranges schedules so that I can get this "specialist." He mentions a few "earthy" kinds of things to me, but I dismiss it.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. I've completely psyched myself up to be annoyed before I even get there, imagining this person massaging me might actually want to talk to me. I've always had a policy of "no talking" during my massage. Of course, that policy is only in my brain because I'd never have the nerve to say out loud "no talking" to someone. I just can't relax, during a massage, if the person is talking to me. I want to relax and having chit chat with the help is not relaxing. G-d that sounded awful! Okay, I didn't mean it that way, but having to make small talk while trying to unwind doesn't work. I need to drift off and not think about whatever that person decides to talk about. I get there completely ready to be pissed off by this.

I was wrong. It wasn't talking that was about to piss me off. I'd hate to say I'm not spiritual, but I'm not into that earthy, yoga, granola, psychic energy, chakra shit. It's just that to me...bullshit. Frou Frou, mental fluff, bullshit. I was about to be knee deep in it.

From the meditation room to the sweet, calm, soothing speech Bonnie gave me to the clear your minds all the way through to the "how do you feel now" look of pride she gave me, I wanted to scream! Let me give you a hint of what a massage is. It's massaging the body!!! I knew it was a bad sign when she asked me as a "by the way" if I wanted her to also work on my back and neck. Um, duh! "Oh yeah," I said. "I want the whole thing." I meant my entire body. Apparently, not what she was thinking.

She took my hands and explained that the left one is my giving hand and my right is my receiving hand, and if I place them both on my heart, I am giving and receiving love to myself. Either that or I'm rehearsing for my wake. Oh wait, I'm Jewish, we don't do that. I digress.

Bonnie would put one hand under me, then the other would press gently on my arm or my stomach or my leg. Each spot, she'd just sit there like that for 5 minutes. All that kept running through my head was "if she doesn't start massaging in the next minute, I'm getting up." But I didn't. Finally, she seemed to be massaging my feet, but that was a quick 15 second rub to get the blood flowing for the next 5 minute "hold." Towards the end, yes, she massaged my back for 5 minutes. She took my bandana off to "massage my scalp." Again, we seemed to have a miscommunication. Massaging my scalp meant ruffling my fuzz like I was the pet cocker spaniel and had been a good dog.

It was over and I decided I would be honest with the owner. I would tell her that she should warn a first-time clients that a massage is not a real massage and to ask for that if that's what they want. But that was not to be. Just as I was about to let her have it, she went into her enthusiastic speech about how wonderful Bonnie is, and how I should try out her Yoga class as her guess at the Lighthouse Point location and how it's transformed her life. Oh well.

Wait, I forget the part that finally made me laugh. They pitch a "Ladies' Night Out" special. What she tells me sounds wonderful - we all are in robes, eating brie and drinking wine (ok, so I don't drink but it's a nice image) and getting manicures and pedicures and facials and massages. She encourages me to invite 10 -12 people and it's all for $200. I had heard her on the phone earlier pricing a kids' party for teenage girls at $475, so I'm curious how it's so cheap. I tell her about my single moms group and how I think this is a great idea. "Let me understand - $200 and we can have 10-12 women." Nope, I was wrong. $200 per person. I start laughing. She says she can work with me, we can change some of the services to make it more affordable. I tell her these are all single moms, there's no way we can swing it. She tells me to call her and they'll work with me.

I leave laughing.

"Not Comfortable" with Anti-Depressants

So Dr. C didn't feel "comfortable" prescribing me anti-depressants. At least I've moved from depressed to pissed. Hello! Everyone who is faced with cancer should automatically be put on something. No doubt, you will feel some sort of mental or emotional anguish during this period. Just expect it. I'm not crazy, but I'll get there soon enough. Why was he so enthusiastic about my taking pain medication when I resisted? Why did he encourage me to take the relaxant when I was having chemo? Yet, he's "not comfortable" with prescribing an anti-depressant. Unbelievable.

That's it for now, but later today, I plan to waste work time going over the massage I paid $80 for that was not a massage but a trip to Oz.

Yep, He's a Wack

OK, he's a wack. I admit it. She was right, he's not all there. Well, I knew he wasn't all there, but I was needy and he was sweet and I figured I could always keep a distance to prevent him from getting attached. And I did, yet somehow he's attached...ergo, the wack comment. There wasn't much communication or activity to get attached to dangit!

Ugh, gotta find a way to curb communication here. Thought I wrote the goodbye letter this morning, but he didn't seem to read it that way.

I'll work a little harder on it.

Stupid Stupid Hole!

I totally should go back to sleep, because right around 11 am, I'm going to be desperate for a nap. Sometimes, if I try really really hard, I can actually go back to sleep when I wake up too early. But if I feel the need to get my ass out of bed to go to the bathroom, the ADD kicks in and I start doing laundry, putting the dishes away and make coffee and then presto! I'm up for good.

I should have something clever to say or write about, but alas, poor Yorick, no.

At least today is Friday. I've been waiting for this day for so long. And then I have to be a good friend and offer to watch Sylvia's kids so she can go on a date. She didn't want to take me up on that, since I won't have my daughter, but with Karla's help, I think we convinced her. I told her the only thing I ask in return is to see the video if the date goes well. I crack me up.

Speaking of videos...apparently Randy has some secret idea that he didn't want to run by me until he got some input from Mistie. Yes, I'm secretly hoping he wants to surprise me with a visit. I need to stop this. It's like I see that damn pot hole in the middle of the street and I'm walking towards it. I keep saying I'm going to move out of the way before I get too close and it gets dangerous, but I find myself drawn to the damn hole. I can not fall in there. I totally need to run down a different street, but I want to play on this street b/c I know this street is a short cut. But if I want the short cut, I risk falling into that stupid stupid hole! I know I couldn't really fall for him, but I could get used to having a warm body around. Good thing he's not local, b/c I would end up diving right into that hole.

Gotta Go Gotta Go Gotta Go

I did it. I broke down and called Dr. C for some medical pick me uppers. I feel like my brain is on speed and constantly thinking gotta go gotta go gotta go, but I've nowhere I really need to go and nothing that really needs to be done. And in between these thoughts, I feel like grabbing the damn wig off my head and throwing it out a window. I'm tired of feeling uncomfortable and itchy.

I'm such a ray of fucking sunshine.

Just scheduled a massage for 3:30 - that should distract me for 15 minutes. I ordered a meditation CD, yesterday. Wish me luck in being able to concentrate enough to have it take some effect on me...and wish me luck in not laughing at it if it seems too flaky.

Stelllllllaaaaaa

I think if I were writing more, I wouldn't be so antsy. I think it would help to get these scattered thoughts down and not let them just whirl around my head like a whip-it ride at the carnival.

I really should be working, but I will get to that soon enough. I'm enjoying the look of catalogs and folders and papers spread across my desk. I could probably wallpaper my office right now with all of it. Maybe that would relax me.

I need a vacation. I want the tropics and I want to read and enjoy the sun and drink frozen virgin strawberry daquiris and not worry if I spelled that right or not. I need to not talk to anyone for a week. Well, maybe to Paolo, the cabana boy. He can make me feel like Stella, getting her groove back.

That's it! I just need to get my groove back! If only I looked as good as Angela Basset did in that movie.

Talk about scattered thoughts, eh?

I'm So Much More Fun than This

Wow - I'm looking back over the posts from the past year and I'm seeming so serious...and depressing. So not me. I need a little booster shot of something to get my brain back in order. I'm so much more fun than this.

And what's more, I totally didn't accomplish most of those goals I wrote. Well, I got my finances in order. At least I didn't mention losing weight. OK, so I said exercise. C'est la vie. One visit to the gym with my daughter flying off the tread mill and there was no going back. I did make plans to go mountain biking - just didn't go. I promised the other girls at work that I'd go next weekend. I will, I promise.

So what now? I'm moving forward, which is where I felt stifled before. Or am I?

Not So Happy Poem

They see our strength but do they see us cry
Do they even want to know
Look away from me if you don't want the truth
Sometimes the pain sneaks through

She looks at me with sympathy and awe
But never sees my soul
She is amazed by the face of courage
Doesn't see the despair

Mom wore one too, he remembers her now
Encourages my comfort
Removing that from my tired head
just doesn't bring relief

Look at my face hard, past my storefront smile
And you will see what's there
The tears are falling slowly down my cheek
I do cry all the time