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!
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, January 17, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, January 14, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
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 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?
Monday, January 10, 2005
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?
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?
Saturday, January 08, 2005
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)