Fears

My friend Karen tells me that in order to stop repeating dysfunctional patterns from our past, we have to recognize that a situation may be a repeat of past stories and then change our reaction going forward. When we are in a situation where we may have reacted one way before, and we want to react differently going forward, we just have to wade through slowly, trying not to drift back into automatic responses that may have served us previously, but do not now. This is not fun. God, thinking of the one I’m in now makes my little heart go all arhythmic. I hate that feeling, my heart speeding up and thwacking in my chest. Specifically, there has been conflict with the people I shared my work with for the last three years. I find myself automatically reacting to stuff that is said or done, then stopping myself and talking myself down from the ledge. Don’t get angry. Don’t get hooked in. Even if they’re acting on their own impulses, I don’t have to be impulsive in my actions. Damn it’s hard. I want to avoid it. I want to go and hide. But more than that, I want it over, so I’m proceeding slowly through and it is not fun. Sometimes, I just want to go hide.

 

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I Can’t Categorize This One

I’m not a seed, or a hipster, or anything that can be classified. Female? Wow, that’s original. Aren’t many of those around.

Have I mentioned lately that I’m in love with Isabel, Milla, my pets, and my new house? Not necessarily in that order. Well, that order, except the two children are interchangeable. And I do love my new little house. It’s not large, by any stretch of the imagination, but it suits us fine. My dad is bringing Isabel a playhouse. It used to be my sister’s children’s, then Milla’s, then niece Sarah’s, now Isabel gets it and she gets it at home instead of at my parent’s, which is nice for her because we rarely venture there. It’s a little blue house. I need to scrub and repaint it. I will probably choose a color other than blue to blend with the landscape.

I must go to bed. I must also confess, to the very few who read my blog, that in times of stress I resort to prescription sleep aids. After nearly two decades of insomnia, I finally gave in and asked Miss Doctor, is there something I can take while breastfeeding that will help me to sleep through the night and not wake up worrying about any number of things at 4 am? Why yes, there is one pill, and it won’t make you drive across the city to your boyfriend’s house in your sleep (like Ambien did the one time I took it four years ago). I was lucky I wasn’t killed. She said Ambien is not tested for breastfeeding. I would not take it, in that case, even if it weren’t for the driving incident. So I’ve been stressed about starting my own practice. I will be partnering with a friend and in that I’m grateful. I’m not concerned about the practice part of it. I do that, have been doing that for three years. It’s the bringing in business part that scares me, and the tension with the people I was sharing with before. Things have not been pretty and I don’t like this at all. So, the sleeping aid. C’est la vie. But it’s working and it’s working now so I’m going to snuggle my three-year-old, the three-year-old who now wears UNDERWEAR, I might add, because I knew she was ready and I told her three-year-olds wear underwear all the time and not diapers. She’s a champ and it’s going swimmingly. As is this paragraph. It has swum from one topic to the next. Amazing paragraph it is. I’ll let it go now and proceed forthwith to bed.

Unspoken Messages Conveyed to Strangers

Have you ever noticed two people conversing with one another in such a manner that says to inadvertent eavesdroppers that they want people to listen to what they are saying? They speak just a little louder than necessary. Often the topic of the conversation is nothing special. Usually I find that the speakers carry an underlying neediness, but of course, that is my interpretation. See me, hear me! They seem to say.

Thinking this over, I realized most of us probably have unspoken messages we wish to convey to strangers. Mine is that I have children. Over and over when I’m out and about without one of them, I see moms with children in tow and want mine there with me so that I too show that I’m a mom. When they’re with me, I never think of it. Weird. I don’t know why I care, but I do.

I’m often shocked at the assumptions people form about me. So often I’m going along living in my head, wondering how I’m going to fit all I need to do into my day, and I hear back from someone that I was ignoring them as I passed them on the street. I hear this and think, I didn’t even see you, and hey, why didn’t you say something? Ah well. Such is life.

Can Any of Us Fully See Others?

I think one of the hardest things to do is to accept, really accept another person as they are and not as we wish them to be. It’s also hard when you realize that people have an idea of who you are that is not based on reality, but based on their own skewed perspective of the world. I’ve experienced both ends of this spectrum this week.  Earlier in the week, I called my mom about something. I don’t even remember what it was now. It’s not important. She was helping to plan my niece’s wedding, a marriage I can’t see as anything except ill-fated. There are so many things wrong with the situation, it’s sad. However, my mom and sister are thrilled to death. They’re planning this big event and are genuinely pleased. I realized that my wish that either of them could see this for what it is and not as they wish it to be is no different than their seeing it as they do. We are all living in our illusions.

I am also continually surprised to find myself in situations where how I am perceived and the actions of people towards me based on these perceptions  is at complete odds with who I really am. I don’t even have to do anything that gives them their ideas; it’s based entirely on their own dysfunction. This is especially difficult when you deal with people who believe the world and others in it have the same agenda that they have, and their agenda is devious. More than once with this particular family I have been shocked at their expectation that I would act deviously and their treatment of me accordingly. I know I’m being vague, but unlike them, I’m not the sort to splash this shit on the internet for the world to see. If I did that, I could not count myself as having more integrity than they do. I don’t want to sink to their level. I’m finally really understanding what that phrase means.

Empathy

It occurs to me that the creatures who die in windows — flies, bees, moths, winged things — die trying to escape. Why else would they be in windows? So close, yet so far from their desired destination. It’s sad really. All the trouble we go to in order to destroy them when they’re inside, but they don’t want to be in any more than we want them there. Their sad futility is wretched in its inevitability. I do believe we humans should consider such things more, rather than simply focusing on how they bother us.

More Pointless Rambling

I started writing something, but it was so dumb, I had to erase it and start over.

Driving around, waiting in line at the movie theater, being alone nearly all the time (not counting when I’m with my daughters, which is most of the time), I have thoughts of what to write. It happens all the time. Then I turn on my computer and away it goes. I keep a notebook and if I’m in a position to write something down, I do, but mostly, I just forget. I did write an HM with a slash through it in my notebook to remind me to write something about the stupid signs on Highway 26. They are red HMs with red lines through them. NO HAZARDOUS MATERIALS. Um, I hate to break it to the genius committee that thought that sign up, if someone was going to drive some hazardous materials somewhere, that person is not going to give a damn about that stupid sign telling them no hazardous materials are allowed. It’s real purpose I think (in my cynical mind) is that it is to make all of us driving along look up and think, Wow, those road department people are really looking out for us. No hazardous materials. Next time I’m driving some, I’ll make sure to take another route. Dumb.

Oh, another thing I’ve thought of a lot is that we are all people. The person who puts up that sign. The police. The president. All of us. It is humans letting others decide how things are going to be, all of us agreeing to follow some social order, that allows it to happen. It doesn’t even occur to people while they are doing it. If I don’t do what is allowable in society, some other people by tacit agreement, will take me down, one way or another. We get the ticket for running the stop sign, we pay it or the people who give out tickets will eventually get me, be it through a higher fine or a bench warrant or whatever. That’s the unquestioned part. But what if all the people along the way decided they didn’t care that I got that ticket and didn’t do anything about it? What if we all stopped paying mortgages and all the people working at the banks didn’t pay theirs either or do anything when we didn’t pay? Who is to stop this? It’s all the people along the way agreeing to do what they do as a group that allows all the behavior control to happen. It’s too bad that more people don’t go along with some things.

Anyway, I had more thoughts, but I’m tired. Funny how people now use the new handy, dandy WordPress LIKE feature, a’ la Facebook and whatnot. I kind of miss the comments. I used to get all kinds of comments, but now it’s just likes, which is fine. I get it. But anyway, I think it’s cool that people like what I write. I like it.