Walking a path . . .

The last time I was here, I was feeling very lost.  I had no idea who I was or which way to go ...  I still struggle with this, but I think I'm making progress.

One of the best decisions I've ever made was to walk in my first 5K.  It was a Weight Watchers event, and it also seemed like a good way to see how far I've come while making strides toward better overall health.  I have to say, I never do things on my own.  Never.  I don't like going somewhere and not knowing anyone there, going to a restaurant and eating alone, etc.  I can finally go shopping by myself, but that's about it.  And try as I might to get someone to walk with me at the 5K, I just couldn't.  I guess no one thought walking 3 miles on a weekend morning sounded like fun!  Hey, I wasn't sure I wanted to do it, either!  But in the spirit of seeking mental strength and challenging my old patterns, I "made" myself do it!  It was harder than I thought it would be, but still something I finished without too too much difficulty.  I think my time was something like 57 minutes?  Not great, but I did it.  I was proud of myself for all sorts of reasons.

On the day of the race, one of the organizers spoke about training for another competition over the summer, something I had never even considered doing before.  I wasn't even sure it sounded like fun, or even if it sounded like something I wanted to do.  But the intriguing part was how he phrased it.  You start with 30 minutes on a Saturday morning, and work your way up, and by October, you can run or walk a half marathon!  


What?  I thought.  Not ME, though!  I really didn't think I was capable of doing it, even with the training.  And what if I didn't have the time?  What if I had made the financial commitment of training, and then I couldn't follow through?  I had many doubts.  But he made it sound like almost anyone can do it.  I was fascinated . . .

So, here I am, and it's October.  What did I do all summer?  I trained for a half marathon!  Yep!  Me, one of the least athletic people you will ever meet, and I'm getting ready to participate in my first serious race.  I've even kept up with the training, for the most part.  The people involved in it are fantastic beyond words!  So much encouragement, wisdom, and technical knowledge that even a non-athlete like me can believe in myself.  I'm amazed, seriously!  And it's done wonders for my lagging self-esteem, and made me realize I can commit to things if they mean enough to me, even if I have to ask for help from my husband to make it possible.  It's coming up at the end of the month!

It also felt great to get back into photography and crochet again.  I have barely used my camera since I bought it, mostly because I am stuck in a routine that doesn't involve much self-expression.  But I made myself walk to the park, take photos, and embellish them with Adobe Lightroom.  Wonderful software, and I wish I could keep it beyond the 20 day trial.  I love it!  Hopefully someday it'll show up under the Christmas tree!  :) So I got to use those creative muscles again, and again, it felt great!  I think I got some good stuff from that experience.  I'll probably post some here when I get a chance.

Guess that's it.  I could write a novel on what's been on my mind, but that would be for the insomniacs out there.  It would lull you to sleep most definitely!  More good stuff to come, I hope!

Questions. Lots of questions.

I think I'm dealing pretty well overall with a lot of issues, especially those dealing with my past.  Also learning to cope with the fact that some things I once believed in might not be what I thought they were.  Changing my own history in some ways, and how I react to it.  It's tough, but I think I've made quite a lot of progress.

My mood has been lifted, overall, by a wonderful vacation I had recently.  I saw a lot of wonderful things, showed my son some things he'll remember forever.  Spent quality time together, which we needed.  It was a great experience, and we got to bond with our new dog as well.  He loved the cities, the hikes, and the sights . . .  I think he enjoyed it as much as we did!

So now I'm home, and I guess everyone feels blue after returning home after a vacation.  I feel more than that, even.  I feel like I'm in the wrong place.  The wrong city.  I felt like that in Fort Worth, too, since I felt like such an outsider.  I had nothing in common with 99% of the people I met.  It was disheartening and lonely.  Now I'm in the Los Angeles area, and meeting people with similar interests, but none of them really care to get to know me.  I've noticed that it's sort of a syndrome here, that people (in general) are content to have many acquaintances and few (if any) close friends.  A lot seem more interested in networking than truly meeting people.  It's a lonely feeling.  I've come to wonder if something is wrong with me that I still haven't made close friends here.  And there is evidence for that, which I'll share.

First, I have always lived in a city where I had family to lean on, so I'm not used to meeting new people.  It's  a skill, and I don't think people realize they don't do it until they really need to do it.  So now I've had to meet people, build relationships from scratch, and I don't know if I've done so well.  It's hard feeling rejected over and over and over again and not letting it get to you.  Try to be friendly, people think you're weird.  Hand out contact info, no one ever calls back.  Play it aloof, no one talks to you.  Ugh.  What is wrong with these people? I feel like asking.  But what if it's me?

I made a couple of close friends when I first moved here, people I thought were easy to talk to and to get to know.  It made living here a pleasure.  I felt like I could grow as a person, and maybe enjoy living here for a while, even though it never has felt like a home to me, or a place I'd like to raise my family and grow old in.  But both of those friends ended up hurting me.  Both were insecure women, like me.  They decided to end our friendships at different times.  One breakup really hurt, the other I was half-waiting for.  Both women seemed to want more from me than I could give, with a husband and child.  One wanted me to practically date her, call her daily.  The other wanted me to be single and go out all weekend.    Did I not commit enough of myself to these friendships?  Were they worth keeping?  I want to tell myself that if it took more out of me than I was getting back, it wasn't worth it.  But as I sit here, lonely, feeling detached from this place, wanting to go find my home town, I wonder if I've made mistakes that push people away.  If it's me that's the problem, what is it I'm doing wrong?  What did I do?  What can I do to fix it?  Or have I really just not met the right people?  And where are they?  And how do I build a relationship with them in this place?

Feeling uncertain about that.  Otherwise, I've adapted to the fact that some of the people I used to admire and trust aren't who I thought they were.  It's hard to admit this sometimes, but my whole family is just messed up.  I guess, whose family isn't, right?  But it was hard to accept that about my family.  I'm not proud of that.  I'm not perfect myself, and how could anyone be, much less someone coming from that family history.  It's a little bit easier, in some ways, living farther away, and not having to watch that decline on a daily basis.  Each one of them seems to succumb to a different demon.  And denial that the real problem is the problem, in one way or another. 

Now I'm stuck with this feeling that I really want to look for my home, the place I belong, love, feel pride in, feel safe, clean, and like my son will do well there.  But that's not practical.  Money, jobs, responsibilities, commitments . . .  It's not realistic.  But I don't want to live regretting what I failed to do anymore.  So what DO I do?

Separation anxiety

One thing I can't get over lately, no matter how hard I try, is how distant my family has become.  Even if I tell myself it's something I can't change, that there is only so much I can do and I've done it all, I feel distraught, even grief-stricken over it.  We used to be close, and now that period in our lives is over.

I remember family vacations, times when we all came together to overcome adversity, and closeness that came with time.  I remember my mother coming with me to my ultrasound appointment.  We went shopping for maternity clothes.  She stayed with me in the hospital while I waited for my son to be born.  Then . . .

That was it.  She was gone.  She just started separating herself from my life.  It happened almost suddenly.  I could sense that a large part of it was that I had a baby, but I didn't know why she seemed to leave, and she wouldn't tell me.  And from that time on, she changed dramatically.  She has never been what I would call a warm and fuzzy person, or an open book, but we had our moments.  Then she just had a nonchalant quality about my visits, seemed critical of my parenting, and has even told me that she thinks my son is spoiled and tries to annoy her on purpose.  I don't get it.  He's a nerdy boy, quiet, and sensitive.  I don't see how she could get that from his actions, honestly.  And no one else tells me that, just her.  It hurts deeply.

Somehow that has affected the relationships I have with everyone in my family.  My sister (who lives with her) might agree just to have something to talk about with her, or who knows.  She and I have always been the closest, and now she's almost a stranger.  My other sister, who married and lives nearby, almost never visited me or allowed me to visit once my son was born because he would damage their collectibles, they said.  Even when we moved out of my old hometown, they rarely visited, and when they did it was only for a couple of hours and they would make the long drive home.

The only person to really make an effort to stay in my life is my closest sister.  When we feel close, we're close.  When we're separate, we're still the closest of my family.  I just don't have as much in common with her as I once did, and I see her as much younger than me psychologically, since I've grown a lot as a result of my life's decisions (comparatively).  I try to have a relationship with my father.  At least he seems to want one, but finances keep us apart, and his anxiety.  It's a long story.  And the good relationship I once had with my in-laws is stretching thinner as health problems plague them and change their personalities.  We've all changed, and in ways that have drawn us further and further apart.  And in all of that chaos, I've moved geographically farther apart.

Sometimes my father blames me for what he sees as a breakdown in my sister's mental state.  "She was better when you were here," he'll tell me.  As if my moving home will fix it all.  And I know it won't.  He worries.  Just wants to turn back the clock.  Maybe that's what I want, too.  Just to go back to how it was when we all loved and supported each other.  Now we never really talk, hide feelings from one another, and secretly resent each other.  I don't know how I could have lost my mother over the birth of my child.  It seemed like it would bring us closer together.  I don't know how she could just leave and not try to repair this.  If she's depressed, why won't she get help?  That's the reason she gave for leaving my father, that he had problems and wouldn't get help for them.  If that's the case, I can't forgive it.  I mean, she hated my father for that, and she's doing the same thing.  If she feels like she's "uncomfortable" around children, why doesn't she try to get to know him?  Why does she see him as a completely different person than I do?  And it's not my "love blindness" talking.  I've heard others tell me the complete opposite of what she tells me.  Obviously to me, something's wrong.  And time is flying by and she has absolutely NO relationship with him at all, and it's not going to get closer with time.

My heart aches as I write this.  Tears blur my eyes.  I can't stand how dysfunctional we've all become, and how little we know or feel about each other.  There will be a time when it's too late, and I don't know why she doesn't care.  And my sisters are all with her there, physically, and I'm here.  I know it would make no difference.  Even when I lived 1/2 a mile away she didn't visit me.  Only sissy C did.  And dad.  They're the ones I miss most.  And my son, too, since he actually has a relationship with them, unlike my mom and my other sister.  And that's virtually all we have left in our lives now, just them.  Our families are shrinking with illness and age.  I feel a sense of desperation about reconciliation, but I think I'm the only one.

I feel like such an idiot.  Crying about why my mom never showed me she loved me.  Why she doesn't love my son.  Even if she loves us, somehow, somewhere in there, she treats us like she wants nothing to do with us.  I stayed in her HOME on my last visit, and barely saw here.  She would retreat to her bedroom and talk on the phone or use her computer.  I traveled 1500 miles to be there, and made sure to bring my son so she could see him as he grows up so quickly, and she sat there in her room and did all the things she does every day when I'm NOT there.  How can I not feel hurt?  How can I reconcile this?  If we had NEVER been close, I could see it, but . . .

I feel like I've done something wrong somehow.  What am I not seeing?  What have I done?  What haven't I said?  I just don't know.  And why am I unable to let this go now that I can't change it?  Why am I still spending at least one night a week crying at midnight and unable to sleep?

Adjustments

I don't always find myself talking about good things that happen in my life.  I'm not completely sure why, but maybe it comes from a fear that people will think I'm trying to make them jealous, or just the fact that I lack a positive outlook on life.  But I need to focus more on the happy events that make life livable, know what I mean?

So, I feel bad that I haven't blogged about this before, but about 5 days ago my family adopted a new member of the family!  He's a sweet little chihuahua-dachshund mix, rescued from the animal shelter as a stray.  He's under a year old, but not quite a puppy.  Very energetic at times, but much quieter than my Pomeranian!  Hahahaha!  He's a cutie.  I'll post a pic next time I blog, since I don't have any on my computer right now.  But he has an amazingly complicated expression sometimes, like he's imagining himself in another world or something.  Just staring out the window or through the backyard gate seems like a porthole to a fantastical journey.  Other times, he has the naivete of a baby.  Just a bee flying through the air will puzzle him, and reflections in shiny objects surprise him and catch him off guard.  He wakes up in the best mood, tail-wagging and bouncy.  Maybe he dreamed of being back in the shelter or on the street, and awoke to the good news of having a real home.  I wonder sometimes.  He already learned his name, the clever boy:  Quincy.

The house is a little lighter with him here, making my other dog less lonely, and giving me something positive to focus on and enjoy, most of the time.  My medications are being adjusted, honestly.  We'll find out where to go from here, in that regard.  But it's a process, so in the meantime I'm moody and introverted.  Hopefully that will change soon.  I've been losing weight as well, but slowly.  At least I'm losing.  And I'm eating much healthier, fresher foods, and a mix of fruits and vegetables like I have never eaten.  Lots of home cooking, for a change.  And vegetarian meals, not really thinking about it.  I feel good about the changes, and I'm not really missing anything since I've added so many new things to my menu.  And I know I can have anything I want, as long as I control the rest of my meals that week, and as long as I don't do it as often as I was before.  Only one cupcake as opposed to the four or more I would have eaten in a day before.  Yep, I was out of control with food. 

So, good things happening, even though my mood isn't there yet.  At least I didn't wait for my depression to lift completely before making these changes, since I could have been waiting forever.  I am trying not to let it determine my life.  It takes effort on a daily basis.  Extreme effort.  But I am doing it, most of the time.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

I like watching "House".  It's a good show, well-written, well-acted, and always with a creative script and storytelling.  I've noticed through the course of the show how often the song "You Can't Always Get What You Want" is featured during the show's closing, especially in the first season.  I know it's meaningful when it's played, and ever since my recent trip home I've been thinking about it.  Especially the line, "If you try sometimes you find/You get what you need."  Maybe because I haven't noticed it to be true.

I'm sure it's because I'm depressed quite often that I don't see it.  Maybe if I were to sit and think about it, it's true, that I'm really lucky with the things that really matter.  But sitting here--maybe even moping--tonight, I feel like there's always something missing that I truly want, that I don't think I'll ever get.  What hurts the most is that I'll keep waiting for it, knowingly in vain.  And I'll put myself in a position to get hurt over and over and over again.

My mother has never been very demonstrative with emotions or encouragement or the like.  She's funny, she's genuine, and practical.  But not warm and fuzzy really, and there were times in my life when a bit of sensitivity from her would have gone a long way.  I have come to realize that's just the truth about her, and a survival strategy she had to develop as a young child with alcoholic parents (adoptive parents, to make it worse) and abandonment issues.  She tells me stories that bring tears to my eyes.  But she survived, maybe by distancing herself emotionally, maybe by surrounding herself with people who would depend on her, so they wouldn't leave . . .  My father was that sort, troubled and unreliable.  And so am I.  Maybe that's why she has such a hard time relating to me, and why she eventually left my father.  Trying to get something emotional to grow out of seeds sown in the wrong soil. 

I think I can deal with that, the fact that my mother loves me and doesn't show it.  What I can't deal with is that she doesn't love my son.  It breaks my heart into so many pieces that the shards hurt, too.  I always thought that she would get to know him and love him.  That they would spend time together and he'd be proud of where he came from, and I'd be proud of my family and my hometown.  But the last time I visited, the part that is still stinging from the slap across the face of my dreams, is how she treated him, how distant she was, and the delusions she came up with to feel the way she did.  She said she saw him "pushing her buttons" and trying to get a rise out of her, why I do not know.  I mean, why would he push her buttons when she's already being so abrasive?  And he doesn't even know her.  I didn't see it at all.  I saw a boy being polite and trying to bond over common interests.  He saw that she liked video games and wanted to talk about them.  My mother likes reality "competition" shows, and so does my son.  He tried to watch them with her.  But she just became annoyed with everything he said and did.  And she really and truly believes those things she said.  Which I don't get.  It hurts that she would believe that, that my son is just a brat.  No one else says that about him.  He gets along with other adults so well, who knows?  Maybe she's threatened by him?  Not sure.  She said she knew she was pulling away when he was a baby, and she watched him, and he cried.  She said she only dealt with it when we were babies because she had to, but now she can't.

She had started the conversation with me by saying, "You know I don't deal well with people."  Yeah, I know.  What I can't forgive is that she won't even try.  Won't get help.  Anyone else, I can understand.  No one likes to get help.  But it's the reason she's always given for leaving my father, that he wouldn't get help for his problems.  And now the tables are turned, and she doesn't see it.  Time is passing, and it will be too late.  He probably wouldn't even cry at her funeral, since he doesn't know who she is.  I constantly have to remind him that he has two grandmothers, since she's never acted like one.  And it hurts that it's my family acting like this.  And what would happen to him if something happened to my husband and I?  Where would he go?  There are no family members I trust, on either side of the family.  That hurts, hurts so so so much I can't bear it. 

I'm starting to think I shouldn't even go home.  I get hurt every time I do.  Maybe I didn't realize it at the time, but maybe that's why I left in the first place, to save myself.  I miss my home, but I miss the way it used to be.  It's not the same place anymore, not when I see everything and every relationship falling apart.  I feel more lost than I have in a long time.  No home to go to, and no home where I am.

Stress Reliever

Haven't blogged in a while, mostly due to the fact that I've been too distracted to think about writing.  My husband and I were sued in small claims court for breaking a lease just over a year ago, something we felt very justified about doing.  The landlord had even left a voice message the day after I had declared my intentions to move, and told me to do that very thing.  The day after we moved, however, we received a message from him saying that he had told us to move, yes, but he had never said he was letting us out of our lease, so pay up.  We felt cheated about all of this, like he had deliberately deceived us about everything up to this point, and this latest message was no exception.

So we went to court, well-prepared, found child care for our son for the morning, made sure he got to school okay, found time off work for my husband during a busy time, and showed up early.  But the plaintiff never showed up.  It's rotten, but he never has to show reason why he didn't, but if we had missed our court date, we would have lost our case immediately.  His case was simply dismissed "without prejudice" so he could file again.  And that he did.

So we prepare again, find child care, go to court early, and wait.  This time the plaintiff shows up.    Nerves begin.  I start shaking.  Hoping it will all turn out okay.  This time we had also filed a counter-claim, which we figured we had good reason to.  But the judge saw otherwise.  He didn't see that our reasons for moving, or that the landlord's obvious deceit had been all that serious.  So we lost our claim.  Now I am nervous.  What if we have to pay this guy even MORE money?  He already has our security deposit of one month's rent, and an extra month's rent we paid while a lawyer reviewed our case.  We didn't feel like he should get one more dime from us.  Not one more cent.

The judge asked him if he had advertised the apartment for rent anywhere, in the paper, on the internet, with a rental agency . . .  The landlord said he hadn't, but he had a sign out front!  It had a phone number, where anyone who saw it could call and someone would answer, he asserted.  Wow.  I'm underwhelmed.  Luckily, the judge was, too, and said even though we were liable for the rent, the landlord had to make reasonable efforts to rent the place and limit his damages.  He had not.  So 2 month's rent was reasonable for him to have received from us, and that was all we owed!  So we didn't need to pay him any more money!!!  Woohoo!!

So even though we lost our counter-claim, it was a win for us, as far as we were concerned.  We just didn't want to pay more money to him after all we had been through.  And that's just what happened.  It's hard to believe after months of stressing over this, that it's finally over!!  We can relax a bit, and hopefully enjoy living here now, as much as I can anyway. 

And that's the basic outline of what happened.  That's probably all I'll write about the whole debacle since I'm sick of thinking about it.  Time to move on.  :)

Lessons

Went to therapy today, and wanted to put some thoughts down on paper.  So, why not share that with the whole damn freakin' internet, I asked myself?  So here I am.  All the better to blog ya with. 

So there have been a few "breakthrough" moments I've had lately, but a couple of the major ones were today.  For one, I realize I've been considering my mood to determine how I'm doing.  I mean, I am supposed to monitor it for therapy and to help regulate my medications, but I've let it completely determine everything.  On an average day, I would say I wake up, ask myself how I feel, then make a decision as to how productive I'm going to be.  Right now, I'm not doing too badly, depression-wise, but I've been lacking in motivation--and motivation to become motivated, for that matter.  It's led be back down the slippery slope, regardless of my medication, to then feel bad about myself for not fighting it more, and then to feel even less motivated than before.  Next, I grow to hate myself, do nothing, and nothing changes. 

My therapist reminded me to do my best to let my actions determine my life, not my mood.  My actions are my life, and if I'm depressed or doomed to be so for the rest of my life, I need to learn to live with it in some form.  I've done so little of the things I've always wanted to do, and my life is absolutely FLYING by so rapidly.  I've become hyper-aware of my birthday only a few days away, and I'm close to 40.  Not that life is over at that point, but I'm reaching stage where I had always expected myself to have done more as I looked into the future at whom I thought I was going to be.  And, even worse, my attitude, lack of motivation, and even my self-loathing are rubbing off on my son!  It's a worst case scenario, as far as I'm concerned.  I couldn't be more disappointed in myself, honestly.  I hear him say I'm boring, that he hates himself when he does something he regrets, or even say he wants to hurt himself, something I've never done or said, but he seems to take to heart.  It hurts me deeply.  I think I was so caught up in how the medication was doing, how I seemed to be feeling better, although slowly, that I kidded myself as to how critical the situation really is.  It's serious.  Time to take it seriously.

Not that I expect to pretend.  I am lousy at just burying my feelings deep inside and play-acting that everything is fine.  Won't do it.  But if I am busy living life, I'll have less time to feel lousy, won't I?  So that's what I'm going to be working on.  And no more self-insults.  Even the "clumsy me's" I tell myself when I drop something or stub my toe.  No more "what an idiot's" when I forget something and have to go back home.  Not going to do it anymore.  My son hears that, and does the same.  I'm not an idiot because I forgot something.  Everyone does it.  It's an inconvenience.  But I don't want to teach myself to hate myself.  Or teach my son to hate himself.  That's it.  The end.  No more.

Lastly, I took a lovely phrase from "Dirty Jobs" and Mike Rowe.  He said, "Don't follow your passion, but always take it with you."  So I don't have to think that my childhood fantasies need to have been fulfilled to have a fulfilling life, but I can be passionate about my life.  Everything I do can be worthwhile.  I can bring that passion to anything, and do it well.  I just need to try. 

So here's an outline of my pact with myself, to work toward happiness, a better life, and becoming a better role model for my son.  I sometimes fool myself into thinking he won't imitate me, that he isn't learning everything unless I intend to teach it to him, but that's not true.  He's learning a lot about life from me, and how to deal with it.  It's time I started to deal with it.