As my sister was calling me on Father's Day for the third time, I started to feel that sinking guilty feeling creeping up on me. I started feeling the sorrow, the pain and the anger too, but then I hung up and let it go. I spent Father's day all by myself and loved every second of it. I just refuse to celebrate a day that has never had an once of meaning for me. What I needed, expected, craved in a father was never present for me, so why should I be expected to reciprocate anything to any of the men that were supposed to fulfill that role? I've heard so many times, "It takes more than sperm donation to make a man a father." It also takes less than a second to teach a little girl she is worthless and she should seek out men that think she is worthless, because that's what love is.
I honestly don't even know what a great dad is. I know what he is not. I had some friends that loved their fathers and I respected them and the relationship they had with my friends. I have had friends that I thought were good fathers and that were very engaged with their family. My experience was not without love, but it was confusing and dangerous. Love came at a great cost and had many strings attached. In the end, the cost to my self was too high and I cut the strings. Unfortunately, I didn't come away free and clear. Those men shaped my future. As if trying to repair all the damage done to that little girl, I sought out men just like them to fill that empty void inside my heart. Or maybe it was just what I knew and what was comfortable for me to be around, so I chose good providers, strong silent types, shy guys that didn't know how to communicate, or just plain jerks that everyone viewed as the tough guys. All were emotionally unavailable, immature, selfish bullies that needed a woman that would feed their self-esteem, give them unconditional love and leave them to prove finally what an unworthy bitch she was like they had presumed all along. A few were clinically depressed, many were alcoholic or addictive personalities, but all of them were basically the same men as my fathers had been. All of them have had wonderful qualities about them, but the underlying traits that make it hard to have a relationship with them were there. Selfish, immature, problems with communication, and the inability to accept responsibility seem to be hallmarks with the men I get involved with. The trickiest part of all is they seem to hide it pretty well until after I fall in love with them. I'm not fully convinced that this is deception on their part, as much as it is blindness on mine. It is such a deeply rooted need to be validated and loved by my father that will never be fulfilled and the result is a blind spot that clouds my vision when viewing potential mates. Along with a few other 100 pounds of baggage I drag along to my dates, I take this cloudy vision and go merrily on my way in search of a drama free, loving relationship. Simple right?
As it turns out, no. Relationships, no matter what your baggage weighs, are hard. That is why there are counselors, therapists, life-coaches and television shows dedicated to how people navigate through them, because they can suck in a big way. Why do people continue to pursue them? It's nature, we like to school, pack, herd, whatever you call it, it's just the human animal doing what it does. I believe it is in my nature to complicate things as much as humanly possible I think too much. I worry too much. I make up things to complicate a relationship before they are even an issue. I self-preserve, make excuses, jump in head first, and then hate myself in the morning. I also love to work a relationship to death, apparently. Even when things are going well, I'm not at peace. So maybe it's just my nature to struggle? What is that old saying, "Anything worth having is worth fighting for," so on I struggle.
My biggest struggle regarding my fathers was neglect. I like to describe my biological father as driftwood that floated along in and out of my life, but essentially hollow and meaningless with a mysterious quality. My step-father was more like a tool. He was useful at times depending on the job, but if you weren't careful he could hurt you very badly and by the time the job was finished, he was always lost. Another man that tried to be a father figure to me was a youth counselor at church. As an inquisitive teen, I spent a brief and heartbreaking year in church. Although this man was a sweet, caring and very religious person he was also seeking validation. He didn't get what he was seeking and crushed any respect for him I would have had for all his teaching in the process. Another male authority figure I had growing up was my high school P.E. Coach. I still have the paper I wrote about him my freshman year of college. I always wanted a dad like him and I suspect he always wanted a daughter like me. The best thing he did for me was to let me know he cared and he was watching out for all of us kids. I will say he was the closest thing to a father I have ever had, but I graduated high school and he had other kids to teach. He is retired now and has lots of grand-kids to spoil. He still gives me a big old bear hug whenever he sees me and he tried to set me up with his son to no avail. Even though my teacher and my youth group leader were nice guys, they still couldn't replace the void left by my real father and I was left with the realization that all men leave. They are not a permanent fixture, only an accent piece.
I had no trust in men and was fairly sure this was just the way men are supposed to be. Whether or not that belief contributed to the subsequent failure of all my future relationships or not, which I suspect it did subconsciously, it did play a huge role. No relationship can exist without trust and the trust a little girl has in her parents will influence her future relationships. I learned from my fathers that it was normal and okay for them to be gone for long periods of time, to not know where I was or who I was with, that I was less interesting than anything they had going on even if it was just a cigarette, and that it was perfectly acceptable to behave in any way they liked even if it included hurting me or the people around me. My biological father took drugs, sold drugs, and placed me in dangerous situations. He drove drunk with me in the vehicle. He left me unattended with people that did not have my best intentions at heart. I knew at age nine I was more emotionally mature than he would ever be and could manipulate him into doing exactly what I wanted. I learned that they were paychecks, drivers or that if they found out what I was doing, they were dangerous. My step-father had explosive anger that was barely under control and our household was like a volcanic hot spot. It didn't matter what you did really, as long as you weren't standing close enough when the eruption happened. Luckily for us, he wasn't around that much. He was a business owner and provided for us very well monetarily, just never emotionally. It's difficult to have a relationship with a volcano. You can respect its power, but you can't hug it and if you choose to play within it's borders, you do so at your own risk. So as father figures go, I got driftwood, a volcano, a teacher and a liar. Not ideal, but I turned out okay.
Now that I'm nearing mid life, I have accepted that these men did the very best they could. They all loved me in their own way. Was it they way I needed them to? Hardly, but you can't change the past only the way you let it influence your life. I am still angry with them sometimes and I don't have any contact with any of them on a regular basis. Mostly, I am just sad for my biological father. He was responsible enough to realize that he didn't have the maturity to be a good father and had a vasectomy. My step-father and biological mother gave me two siblings that I cherish beyond words. He did provide for my basic needs growing up and we did have some fun times that he was actually present for. I love all of them, but the pain they bring into my life is far greater than the love I receive from them. I am available to them if they choose to open a dialogue with maturity, but when they call at what they feel are the appropriate birthday and holiday times to make small talk and invite me to this or that with one hours notice, I politely thank them and decline. It makes them feel better to have offered than it would if I actually accepted. I have stopped seeking approval from my fathers through the relationships I have with other men and now give myself the approval and praise I deserve. I will never get what I needed from a father, so I accept that and I get that from myself. Incredibly, this fierce independence has served me so well in my life and I'm very proud of that personality trait.
I'm not proud of the weak and needy person I was always trying to please men so that "daddy would love me". I am still angry at times that they broke my heart instead of fortifying it against all the evils of the world. My fathers didn't understand that love doesn't cost money. It costs time. The time you take to sit down and help with homework, to go to a volleyball game, to drive your kids to school or the doctor, or just to take a weekend off and go camping. Time to get to know your children's friends, listen to their music, watch a movie and talk about what they think is interesting and what you think is interesting about them. I know what not to do as a parent because of how badly they hurt me as a child. I used this hurt and anger as an excuse for so long prohibiting myself from a real and honest relationship! Blaming them or any man for hurting me just seems silly at this point, because I am a big girl and I allowed it. It's pretty easy to date someone and tell if they are selfish or immature. I love that book, "He's just not that in to you." What the author doesn't say is you weren't important enough to those men for them to be honest with you. They aren't mature enough to accept that you might listen to what they are really saying and accept that there isn't chemistry or whatever and just say, okay thanks for the drinks. They only selfishly wanted your attention, but did not want to give you anything you wanted in return or an opportunity to hurt them. I, like that author, believe all women have wonderful things about them and all women need to value those things before anyone else will. We all self-preserve. That is where my fathers failed miserably! The best thing a dad can do for his child is to recognize his/her individual talents and to dote on him/her. Is she an artist, good at sports, debate? Is she a great communicator, social, have lots of friends? I wish either of my fathers had taken the time to notice that I was always writing or asked to read something I had written. I mailed a copy of that paper I wrote about my high school coach to him and he had it published in the local paper. It still make me cry, for lots of reasons.
I know the damage both parents can do to their children and I know first hand that adults can over come that damage with time. I joke with my mother that parenting is only working out your childhood issues with live models. The good thing about my dads are they were good guys trying the best they could. The bad thing about my dads is they weren't very good a being mature, responsible people. The ugly thing about my dads is that even with all the help available for them to change, they still chose to remain selfish, immature, addicted and alone instead of getting help and making changes that would open their hearts just a little more to having a relationship with the adult I've become. Every child needs their father their whole life every bit as much as they need a mother. Luckily, as you become an adult you need parents for different things. I only need them to just be happy in their own lives at this point, and that is something I have no control over or responsibility for. I wish them the best of luck with that. I choose to look at the good and forget the bad and the ugly and ride off into the sunset a winner.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Remember Me?
Have you ever met someone that you just instantly knew you were going to really REALLY like? Then after a month or two you decided you loved them so completely that the world began when they were with you and ended when they weren't? The way they laugh, their voice, their eyes and that smile that makes you feel like the entire universe has opened up and given you the best gift. Holding them makes you feel at peace and you never want another second to pass. Talking to them about nothing, but laughing about everything and the more you learn about them, the more you want them? A physical attraction bordering on hunger and a emotional connection that you can actually feel that person thinking of you and you text the same thing at the same time more than once.
Then have you had that person suddenly and horribly stolen from you? I had a six month "relationship" with a man that I truly loved and would have done anything for, but then I learned he had never really existed at all. Everything I had known about him was a lie. The lies kept coming and coming until the man I knew was a ghost except he was still standing there talking, telling me horrible things I did not want to ever hear. My relationship with the fictional man I was in love with ended and a new relationship began that was twisted and wrong. Thankfully it was short lived and no permanent damage was done. I couldn't continue with the lies. It only took me a little while to wake up from my nightmare, pick up my dignity, and leave. At least that is the way I'm going to remember it.
He haunts me all the time this ghost. I think about him when I'm doing things we liked to do, every time I get a french manicure, and when I pass places we used to meet for lunch or the bar where we first met. I know his cologne and I smell it in the department stores. The songs he used to play for me on his guitar still make me cry. All these things I feel for a man that never existed. The truth was he was a liar. I can't believe a word he said to me, yet I want to so badly that it physically makes me sick. I haven't spoken to the man in a long time even though I could talk to him right now, but it would be like a seance, fake and unnatural.
How do you get closure for a relationship that never really existed? I wish I had never met this liar at all. It's like winning a trip and then getting on a plane that crashes. I feel so ridiculous and betrayed. I feel cheated. Even though I've moved on and met a wonderful real man that I also truly love, I can't help thinking about my ghost. Remembering all the feelings and his kisses. It wasn't real, but why do I still feel like this? I guess it's just my memory of something so perfect that I want it to keep going even though it was over from the very first second he said hello. It leaves me numb. I can't even hate him. I want the memory to go away like the "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". I keep telling my heart to stop breaking, but he hurt me. He hurt me! I know I learned something from this, but I'll be damned of I can tell you exactly what. I already appreciated honestly enough, I don't think I needed this. This was like a kick in the teeth while I was laying on the ground covered in my own piss watching someone go through my wallet and steal my last five dollars. Then finding out they also stole your credit cards and every once in awhile something pops up you have to fix. Why won't he just fade away?
Then have you had that person suddenly and horribly stolen from you? I had a six month "relationship" with a man that I truly loved and would have done anything for, but then I learned he had never really existed at all. Everything I had known about him was a lie. The lies kept coming and coming until the man I knew was a ghost except he was still standing there talking, telling me horrible things I did not want to ever hear. My relationship with the fictional man I was in love with ended and a new relationship began that was twisted and wrong. Thankfully it was short lived and no permanent damage was done. I couldn't continue with the lies. It only took me a little while to wake up from my nightmare, pick up my dignity, and leave. At least that is the way I'm going to remember it.
He haunts me all the time this ghost. I think about him when I'm doing things we liked to do, every time I get a french manicure, and when I pass places we used to meet for lunch or the bar where we first met. I know his cologne and I smell it in the department stores. The songs he used to play for me on his guitar still make me cry. All these things I feel for a man that never existed. The truth was he was a liar. I can't believe a word he said to me, yet I want to so badly that it physically makes me sick. I haven't spoken to the man in a long time even though I could talk to him right now, but it would be like a seance, fake and unnatural.
How do you get closure for a relationship that never really existed? I wish I had never met this liar at all. It's like winning a trip and then getting on a plane that crashes. I feel so ridiculous and betrayed. I feel cheated. Even though I've moved on and met a wonderful real man that I also truly love, I can't help thinking about my ghost. Remembering all the feelings and his kisses. It wasn't real, but why do I still feel like this? I guess it's just my memory of something so perfect that I want it to keep going even though it was over from the very first second he said hello. It leaves me numb. I can't even hate him. I want the memory to go away like the "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". I keep telling my heart to stop breaking, but he hurt me. He hurt me! I know I learned something from this, but I'll be damned of I can tell you exactly what. I already appreciated honestly enough, I don't think I needed this. This was like a kick in the teeth while I was laying on the ground covered in my own piss watching someone go through my wallet and steal my last five dollars. Then finding out they also stole your credit cards and every once in awhile something pops up you have to fix. Why won't he just fade away?
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Relationships
To be or not to be, that is the question! Does a forty year old divorced single mom with two active kids, a career, a crazy family, baggage of the physical and emotional kind, and bad credit even venture back into the dating scene? Yes, she does because her friends, most of her crazy family, and Valentine's Day tells her she should. How could anyone be happy alone for possibly another forty years? How could you afford a house on your own? Aren't you lonely? Don't you need a man? Are you a lesbian? How bad did your EX screw you up? Funny how all these little slings and arrows pierce a woman's self-confidence and make her think she needs to be in a relationship. However, after some soul searching, I have decided I don't need a relationship, but I want one. I really do cherish the idea that I can grow old sharing my life with someone, helping each other, and enjoying our lives together. I want that connection mind, body, and soul with a man. I want a feeling of being a woman and nothing in this world makes me feel more womanly that being with a man. However, being in a relationship and defining roles within it to build a partnership is so complicated.
I think men and women want the same basic needs fulfilled by their relationships. Acceptance, love, honesty, appreciation, and commitment. I know I want these things in my relationship and I want them equally between my partner and I. Does that mean that even though I do 90% of the cleaning that our partnership is doomed? Surprisingly no, but if I do 90% of the cleaning and feel like my partner does 100% of the mess and never even acknowledges that I do anything but complain, then yes it is headed for Splitsville faster than a bullet train. The evolution of a relationship, good or bad, is very tricky and often makes no sense what-so-ever. I have read countless articles on the stages of a relationships and marriages, and yet divorce rates are higher than they have ever been. I don't need to quote anybody's statistics for that, they have groups for kids of divorced parents in school now. The sobering reality of our disposable society is relationships usually don't last, but yet I, like so many others, still want one to last until death do us part. How do you make a relationship last through all of life's changes? Some people say compromise, some say don't fight, some say fight right, some say it's impossible and all people finally just settle down into a routine and give up but stay in the marriage anyway. I honestly think that it is just luck. If all of us want the same basic things, then why do we have such a hard time with relationships?
Feelings are to blame. Take for example my feelings of being taken for granted in every relationship I've ever had. I'm a very very giving person. It makes me feel good to give. That saying, "It's better to give than to receive," should have been stamped on my forehead. The down side of giving too much of your time, your heart, your money, your patience, your love is that not everyone appreciates your gifts. Quite honestly, that never bothers me unless I'm in a relationship with the person who doesn't appreciate how special I am. Don't misunderstand, I'm far from perfect, but if I can work two jobs, cook, clean, drive the kids to a baseball game and still be in a slinky outfit with garters, hose, and high heels with makeup at 11:00 p.m. when I have to work at 6:00 a.m. and the love of my life complains that he really just needs to get some work done when he has the entire day off the next day? Trust me I'm going to feel taken for granted. I have listened to many of my married man friends complain that they don't get enough attention, don't have sex enough, don't feel appreciated while their wives complain that they don't help with the dishes, never take out the trash, never buy them flowers or participate in any events, but nothing changes and then one day they are divorcing because they have just had enough. Enough of being unappreciated on both sides and they were both right in FEE:LING that way. Feelings aren't wrong they just are. Unfortunately, I can't control my feelings like Spock, I am more a Captain Kirk. Most people can't control their feelings, but they can control their behavior. The disconnect that happens when a partner voices their feelings about a certain behavior and the other partner dismisses those feelings and neglects to change their behavior is key to feeling unappreciated. Ignoring another person's feelings toward you is like hearing a tornado siren and running onto the porch, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but most people do it anyway. The key is to have those feelings about the behavior and not about the person. For example, I love my partner, but I hate it when he doesn't flush the toilet. I don't hate my partner because he didn't flush the toilet, I just hate that he didn't flush his stinking gross shit away so I wouldn't have to see it. He acted in a selfish way which caused me to feel badly. However, if he continues to ignore how I feel and the behavior becomes who he is, I will start to hate him. This is the slow erosion of a relationship. When you finally realize the truth about that person and the value they place on your feelings. It may seem like a small thing, but add up any small thing over years and years and it accumulates into a huge pile of stinking gross shit that no amount of flushing can ever wash away. Feelings are like fertilizer to love. Some are nutrient rich and others are too acidic and can damage love's roots and kill off any potential for growth.
Timing is also the culprit. If you plant a tree at the wrong time the roots will die. If you try to build a relationship with an emotionally immature person that is selfish and can't make a commitment past Friday night, your roots will die. If a person tries to love you when your heart is broken and you can't see a way out the thick fog of your last relationship, their roots will die. You have to start a relationship at the right time for both partners. Thankfully, feelings can change and so can people, but you can never change time.
So why do some relationships grow and other's end? Luck. I think it's hard work, but mostly luck. My current partner tells me a lot, "You're lucky I love you." He is right. I am lucky, because he does appreciate how special I am right now. I'm not perfect and I don't know if our relationship will survive the test of time and our feelings will grow. I love that song, "Now that we found love what are we gonna do with it." My partner and I found love, now we have to decide what to do with it. Do we appreciate it? Do we talk about our feelings honestly and behave in ways that will nurture our love? Are we honest about ourselves and how we feel? Do we change our behavior based on our feelings? Do we value the love we found over our love for others?
It's so complicated, but that's life. My alternative is to be alone and that is just not acceptable to me. I like to share my life way to much to spend it alone. I have close family, many friends and co-workers, but on a Friday night when I'm sitting in front of my TV in sweats dreading going to a gallery opening or a bar all by myself, because I'd rather be sitting down to a candle light dinner with somebody I truly love and can't, I came to the conclusion that family, friends and my kids just simply weren't enough. I wanted the entire messy, complicated, wonderful, crazy and difficult relationship. "Now that we found love what are we gonna do with it," I guess I'll try to love it!
I think men and women want the same basic needs fulfilled by their relationships. Acceptance, love, honesty, appreciation, and commitment. I know I want these things in my relationship and I want them equally between my partner and I. Does that mean that even though I do 90% of the cleaning that our partnership is doomed? Surprisingly no, but if I do 90% of the cleaning and feel like my partner does 100% of the mess and never even acknowledges that I do anything but complain, then yes it is headed for Splitsville faster than a bullet train. The evolution of a relationship, good or bad, is very tricky and often makes no sense what-so-ever. I have read countless articles on the stages of a relationships and marriages, and yet divorce rates are higher than they have ever been. I don't need to quote anybody's statistics for that, they have groups for kids of divorced parents in school now. The sobering reality of our disposable society is relationships usually don't last, but yet I, like so many others, still want one to last until death do us part. How do you make a relationship last through all of life's changes? Some people say compromise, some say don't fight, some say fight right, some say it's impossible and all people finally just settle down into a routine and give up but stay in the marriage anyway. I honestly think that it is just luck. If all of us want the same basic things, then why do we have such a hard time with relationships?
Feelings are to blame. Take for example my feelings of being taken for granted in every relationship I've ever had. I'm a very very giving person. It makes me feel good to give. That saying, "It's better to give than to receive," should have been stamped on my forehead. The down side of giving too much of your time, your heart, your money, your patience, your love is that not everyone appreciates your gifts. Quite honestly, that never bothers me unless I'm in a relationship with the person who doesn't appreciate how special I am. Don't misunderstand, I'm far from perfect, but if I can work two jobs, cook, clean, drive the kids to a baseball game and still be in a slinky outfit with garters, hose, and high heels with makeup at 11:00 p.m. when I have to work at 6:00 a.m. and the love of my life complains that he really just needs to get some work done when he has the entire day off the next day? Trust me I'm going to feel taken for granted. I have listened to many of my married man friends complain that they don't get enough attention, don't have sex enough, don't feel appreciated while their wives complain that they don't help with the dishes, never take out the trash, never buy them flowers or participate in any events, but nothing changes and then one day they are divorcing because they have just had enough. Enough of being unappreciated on both sides and they were both right in FEE:LING that way. Feelings aren't wrong they just are. Unfortunately, I can't control my feelings like Spock, I am more a Captain Kirk. Most people can't control their feelings, but they can control their behavior. The disconnect that happens when a partner voices their feelings about a certain behavior and the other partner dismisses those feelings and neglects to change their behavior is key to feeling unappreciated. Ignoring another person's feelings toward you is like hearing a tornado siren and running onto the porch, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but most people do it anyway. The key is to have those feelings about the behavior and not about the person. For example, I love my partner, but I hate it when he doesn't flush the toilet. I don't hate my partner because he didn't flush the toilet, I just hate that he didn't flush his stinking gross shit away so I wouldn't have to see it. He acted in a selfish way which caused me to feel badly. However, if he continues to ignore how I feel and the behavior becomes who he is, I will start to hate him. This is the slow erosion of a relationship. When you finally realize the truth about that person and the value they place on your feelings. It may seem like a small thing, but add up any small thing over years and years and it accumulates into a huge pile of stinking gross shit that no amount of flushing can ever wash away. Feelings are like fertilizer to love. Some are nutrient rich and others are too acidic and can damage love's roots and kill off any potential for growth.
Timing is also the culprit. If you plant a tree at the wrong time the roots will die. If you try to build a relationship with an emotionally immature person that is selfish and can't make a commitment past Friday night, your roots will die. If a person tries to love you when your heart is broken and you can't see a way out the thick fog of your last relationship, their roots will die. You have to start a relationship at the right time for both partners. Thankfully, feelings can change and so can people, but you can never change time.
So why do some relationships grow and other's end? Luck. I think it's hard work, but mostly luck. My current partner tells me a lot, "You're lucky I love you." He is right. I am lucky, because he does appreciate how special I am right now. I'm not perfect and I don't know if our relationship will survive the test of time and our feelings will grow. I love that song, "Now that we found love what are we gonna do with it." My partner and I found love, now we have to decide what to do with it. Do we appreciate it? Do we talk about our feelings honestly and behave in ways that will nurture our love? Are we honest about ourselves and how we feel? Do we change our behavior based on our feelings? Do we value the love we found over our love for others?
It's so complicated, but that's life. My alternative is to be alone and that is just not acceptable to me. I like to share my life way to much to spend it alone. I have close family, many friends and co-workers, but on a Friday night when I'm sitting in front of my TV in sweats dreading going to a gallery opening or a bar all by myself, because I'd rather be sitting down to a candle light dinner with somebody I truly love and can't, I came to the conclusion that family, friends and my kids just simply weren't enough. I wanted the entire messy, complicated, wonderful, crazy and difficult relationship. "Now that we found love what are we gonna do with it," I guess I'll try to love it!
Friday, June 8, 2012
The End
Am I the only person that worries about the world today? Well, obviously not because I can look on the internet for five seconds and find a survival guide for the end of the world. I think since the beginning of recorded time people have worried about the world ending. I think for me it really doesn't matter when I play all the what if's out. What if China starts a third world war and launches nuclear missiles? What if a horrible disease starts from all the anti-resistant antibiotic germs? What if aliens attack? And trust me at 3:00 a.m. I have gone through and written a flow chart of what exactly all the consequences of these events might entail. Why would I waste good sleeping time doing something so insane? I don't know, but one reason is I am a control freak. I notice these things bother me more when the other parts of my life seem to be spiraling out of control. Another reason is I am just a worry wort. My therapist says I am a passionate person with the cares of the world on my shoulders, but asks me regularly how that is working for me. Have you solved world hunger yet? Do you have an answer to the nation's problem with standardized education? Does you ex-husband magically care now that he didn't buy toothbrushes for the boys or pay the dentist bill? I hate my therapist sometimes. The answers, when it comes right down to it, are simple. If China starts a nuclear attack, if bacteria infests the world population and if aliens attack, I will deal with it. Trust, in a nut's shell, is the answer to all my worries. Trust in myself to be able to handle life's problems.
Trust is a most difficult subject for me and especially trust in myself. I have noticed something about the people in my life though. The people I most admire have the most confidence in themselves to be able to handle what ever life throws their way. They TRUST in themselves above all else. Do they have lives that always go to plan and no challenges? Are they healthy, happy, and living in wedded bliss? No, not most of them. Most of them have crazy busy schedules, kids, sickness, divorce, their own businesses, mortgages, deaths, military service, and the list will go on and on with the challenges they face. The one thing they all have is a trust that they can handle these speed bumps in the road of life.
Where does this trust come from and why do some people have it while others can't trust anything? As the old saying goes, the only things for certain in life are death and taxes. I don't agree with that, because I know some people that don't pay taxes and, according to my son, there are funky little phones that allow the dead to tap into certain frequencies and talk to the living after they have passed on. Not sure I buy into that, but I'm sure for Christmas we will test that little theory. I think the only thing that is for certain in this life is change. Everything will change and that is a fact. Sometimes things change only slightly and sometimes there is a Tsunami that wipes out entire villages in the blink of an eye. One second you are shopping at the mall making plans for summer vacation and the next you are searching frantically for your five year old that was right beside you, calling out his name. Life as we know it will always change and I have discovered that I am pretty good at adaptation. Debt, divorce, cars breaking down, kids getting sick, work, relationships, bring it on! What I'm not good at is accepting those changes with a positive attitude and a feeling of confidence that this too shall pass. I dwell in the zone of anger and blame in times of change resenting the fact that I didn't decide to make this change and somebody is going to have to pay for it. It is hard for me to trust in myself, even though I have overcome some pretty huge obstacles in my life. I also worry constantly about these changes. They are like a maze with a thousand monsters waiting around every corner growling just loud enough for me to hear them and closing in from every direction. Yes, I have always been a glass-is-half-empty person. I'm practical, negative and sarcastic sometimes, but also creative, positive and hopeful.
Death is a good example. I never want to die. Hold on all my religious fellow travelers! I don't know what happens when someone dies. You don't know until you die and that is one of the most scariest things for a control freak to accept about death, the great unknown! I want to believe that I will become one with all the universe and always be linked with my children and loved ones, so that is what I choose to believe. Beyond that, it is another twist in the maze and it scares the crap out of me. I don't want to find out, ever. If my body runs out, give me a great robotic one. I'm dealing with death as I age, but my ability to trust in myself to handle change has been the greatest gift. If I'm brutally honest, I'm afraid of leaving my children and of them leaving me more than the grim reaper coming to call. My best friend in the entire world, my first friend, lost her son at the age of 20. She struggles daily, but she is such a survivor. My heart breaks for her and her family and their ability to just live on. She has taught me that I will keep going on, no matter what too, and that my boys will change so I better value every stinking second of my time with them. I thank her son Tyler all the time for teaching me that lesson, but I still wish I could bring him back to his Mother instead. I never want to know what that feels like or how my life would change without my kids, but she has also shown me they are never gone from our minds and hearts just out of reach of our hands. I will be an empty nester in no time at all it seems and that is so scary to me. Yet, I trust each of my boys and myself enough to let them go, make mistakes, learn and live. Yin and the Yang! Negative and positive together in balance.
I guess that is how I should look at the world when I get into one of my gloom and doom, chicken little moods. The world may be different and we all might become glowing green radioactive zombies, but we might really enjoy brains and that is just okay. Aliens may take over the earth and cure diseases and world hunger. The bird flu might wipe out half the population, but Stephen Hawking might finally come up with a way to download our consciousness and cheat death all together. It's exciting really when you make a choice to be more positive and trust yourself enough to do whatever you need to do. Maybe that is why so many confident people accomplish so many wonderful things. Trust allows them a freedom to reach beyond the fear and imagine all sorts of possibilities. I'm sure these people still worry, we all do. They are the heroes that hear the growling and keep going anyway until they finish the maze.
Trust is a most difficult subject for me and especially trust in myself. I have noticed something about the people in my life though. The people I most admire have the most confidence in themselves to be able to handle what ever life throws their way. They TRUST in themselves above all else. Do they have lives that always go to plan and no challenges? Are they healthy, happy, and living in wedded bliss? No, not most of them. Most of them have crazy busy schedules, kids, sickness, divorce, their own businesses, mortgages, deaths, military service, and the list will go on and on with the challenges they face. The one thing they all have is a trust that they can handle these speed bumps in the road of life.
Where does this trust come from and why do some people have it while others can't trust anything? As the old saying goes, the only things for certain in life are death and taxes. I don't agree with that, because I know some people that don't pay taxes and, according to my son, there are funky little phones that allow the dead to tap into certain frequencies and talk to the living after they have passed on. Not sure I buy into that, but I'm sure for Christmas we will test that little theory. I think the only thing that is for certain in this life is change. Everything will change and that is a fact. Sometimes things change only slightly and sometimes there is a Tsunami that wipes out entire villages in the blink of an eye. One second you are shopping at the mall making plans for summer vacation and the next you are searching frantically for your five year old that was right beside you, calling out his name. Life as we know it will always change and I have discovered that I am pretty good at adaptation. Debt, divorce, cars breaking down, kids getting sick, work, relationships, bring it on! What I'm not good at is accepting those changes with a positive attitude and a feeling of confidence that this too shall pass. I dwell in the zone of anger and blame in times of change resenting the fact that I didn't decide to make this change and somebody is going to have to pay for it. It is hard for me to trust in myself, even though I have overcome some pretty huge obstacles in my life. I also worry constantly about these changes. They are like a maze with a thousand monsters waiting around every corner growling just loud enough for me to hear them and closing in from every direction. Yes, I have always been a glass-is-half-empty person. I'm practical, negative and sarcastic sometimes, but also creative, positive and hopeful.
Death is a good example. I never want to die. Hold on all my religious fellow travelers! I don't know what happens when someone dies. You don't know until you die and that is one of the most scariest things for a control freak to accept about death, the great unknown! I want to believe that I will become one with all the universe and always be linked with my children and loved ones, so that is what I choose to believe. Beyond that, it is another twist in the maze and it scares the crap out of me. I don't want to find out, ever. If my body runs out, give me a great robotic one. I'm dealing with death as I age, but my ability to trust in myself to handle change has been the greatest gift. If I'm brutally honest, I'm afraid of leaving my children and of them leaving me more than the grim reaper coming to call. My best friend in the entire world, my first friend, lost her son at the age of 20. She struggles daily, but she is such a survivor. My heart breaks for her and her family and their ability to just live on. She has taught me that I will keep going on, no matter what too, and that my boys will change so I better value every stinking second of my time with them. I thank her son Tyler all the time for teaching me that lesson, but I still wish I could bring him back to his Mother instead. I never want to know what that feels like or how my life would change without my kids, but she has also shown me they are never gone from our minds and hearts just out of reach of our hands. I will be an empty nester in no time at all it seems and that is so scary to me. Yet, I trust each of my boys and myself enough to let them go, make mistakes, learn and live. Yin and the Yang! Negative and positive together in balance.
I guess that is how I should look at the world when I get into one of my gloom and doom, chicken little moods. The world may be different and we all might become glowing green radioactive zombies, but we might really enjoy brains and that is just okay. Aliens may take over the earth and cure diseases and world hunger. The bird flu might wipe out half the population, but Stephen Hawking might finally come up with a way to download our consciousness and cheat death all together. It's exciting really when you make a choice to be more positive and trust yourself enough to do whatever you need to do. Maybe that is why so many confident people accomplish so many wonderful things. Trust allows them a freedom to reach beyond the fear and imagine all sorts of possibilities. I'm sure these people still worry, we all do. They are the heroes that hear the growling and keep going anyway until they finish the maze.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Romance 101
How do you teach a man to be romantic? How do you teach your teenage son to be romantic or should you? As a single woman, I sometimes dream of being romanced. Although, I haven't a clue exactly what that would entail. You see, I'm not very romantic by nature. I'm practical and fiercely independent. I'm not really the wait for the door to be opened for me kind of woman, but when it does happen, I gladly say thanks. I don't think many women I know expect to be romanced anymore. We don't carry handkerchiefs to slyly drop in hopes a willing suitor will pick it up and introduce himself. I only received flowers once or twice in my entire dating history on the first date and never on the second. I don't really think the younger crowd gets the concept of "dating" let alone being romanced and by younger crowd I mean people under the age of twenty-five. I have received some very poetic and sweet emails, and I think this behavior might explain the phenomena I like to call "internet crushing". I have had a few internet crushes in my time. You know they aren't real, but they are very intensely romantic. In the real world, they almost never measure up to the expectations you dreamed up in your mind. I do however have a very active and vivid imagination. I love the idea of being a romantic person and being romanced by a person. I enjoy doing nice things for those people I love like leaving notes for them to find in their lunches I've packed or arranging a surprise outing like a picnic. I think picnics are romantic, but I once planned one for a gentleman and was told that his knees hurt and the food was too hot. A little low on the romantic meter! What do guys think romance is? Does something "romantic" have to be romantic for both people to actually end up being perceived as romance?
I really feel that romance is doing something for someone for no other reason than to make them feel special. It is an expression of how you feel about that person in your heart. Unfortunately, some of us have non-creative, goofy or twisted hearts that don't quite see romance in the same way "normal" people might. This is okay, it is just that romance can be tricky. Is it romantic that I buy my fiance a special shampoo that he really likes and give him pedicures? I think so. Is it romantic that he likes to name his Dungeon & Dragons female characters after me? I think it could be if they weren't all demonic and weird. I rather enjoy the fact that he is thinking about me so much that it spills over into his other activities, but do I necessarily think it's romantic? No, but I guess I should.
I firmly believe that romance is a lost art that will most likely die forever due to the Women's Movement, pornography, and the invention of the internet, but there are some hopeless romantics out there. A friend of mine's husband sends her flowers almost weekly because he misses her as a long haul truck driver. I hear stories of romantic proposals and see them on the internet and they remind me that romance isn't dead altogether. My son picks weeds for me from time to time in the lot behind our house and brings me flowers he has picked. I hope he continues to find ways to be romantic to his future mates. I try to instill in my boys a sense that doing things for others just simply to make them happy is not just a simple kind gesture, but that it goes a long way in building a solid relationship.
One problem with romance is the commercial aspect of things sold under the label of being romantic. I don't think it really matters what you buy a person. A simple poem or a handwritten card saying "I love you" is very romantic to me. I never bought into the idea that being romantic had to cost a person a fortune. When I want to be in a romantic mood, I envision candle light, soft music, a nice meal or snack and then an activity that I think that person will enjoy that might include a foot massage or neck rub or a movie we both like. Flowers sent to work with an invitation for a date is very romantic gesture. I think the best present you can give someone is attention! Put the phone away, go for a walk, and just let that person know that he/she is the most important thing in the world to you. So many times I think people send things to make up for time they aren't spending with the people they care about. Texting isn't romantic! I don't care what you text, but it is the laziest form of communication ever and will never replace an actual face to face smile.
Videos, movies and TV have ruined romance for the average man. What woman wouldn't want to be swept away on a helicopter ride overlooking Maui? Shows like the Bachelor and other reality TV dating shows make me want to puke and what's worse? They are all fake looking for their fifteen minutes of fame and using the guise of a lasting relationship. It has nothing to do with romance and doing something only to make someone happy! They have distorted romance into some weird junior high popularity contest. The helicopter rides and vacation destinations don't happen in real life. Prince charming is more likely your neighbor who came over and sharpened your mover blades after he saw you struggling for hours trying to mow your lawn in 110 degree heat. Princess Charming is the gal who didn't care if you were making six figures or lived with your parents and was just happy you called her back the next day. I think we take for granted the small gestures and our expectations of romance are unrealistic. Like Julia Roberts said in Pretty Woman, "I want the fairytale." Well Julia, me too and when monkey's fly outta my butt...
One very important obstacle to romance is timing. A man can have the most wonderful evening planned and come home to his haggard wife that has been puked on, pissed on, listened to screaming kids all day and finally got them all down for a nap so she can take a shower for the first time that day and ruin all his plans for romance. Planning a romantic event takes work! So many times a man plans something wonderful only to have it fall apart at game time. My advice? Don't plan something huge, do something small all the time.
Like I mentioned, I have a fiance and I try to do small things for him on a regular basis. Even if it's just getting the kind of toothpaste he likes, I pay attention to what he likes! He is far from a Don Juan, but he does try and I appreciate his efforts. However, one place he had an epic fail was his proposal. It was a non-proposal in fact. I got a ring for Christmas and have not yet received an acceptable proposal. Do I expect a bended-knee profession of his never ending love by the Eiffel Tower? Hell yes! Am I going to get it, probably not. Will I marry him? I guess we'll have to wait and see, but I took the ring all the same because I love him. My fear is that, like my previous marriage, it will hold no romance because I allowed my mate to think this was acceptable when frankly, it is not. I don't need roses every week, or a trip to Maui, or even Paris. I do need him to bring me flowers sometimes though and I would like to take a vacation so that we can spend one on one time together away from school, work and other pressures of daily life. I want him to dance with me in our living room to his prized recording of Sinatra. I want him to make a candle light dinner for me. I worry that this will become another deal breaker a few years from now. What if he never brings me any more flowers, or sends me any love notes, or only calls me when he needs toilet paper? If he failed so miserably at a marriage proposal, is this a sign of things to come? Isn't a marriage proposal one of the best times to do something romantic? AND he told me he got my ring on sale! I know I'm being a total woman about this and honestly our budget wasn't anything to be bragging about at the time, but you NEVER tell your fiance you cheeped out on her engagement ring! ANTI-ROMANTIC!!!! I know his personality and I realize he was proud that he saved quite a bit of money, but like I relayed to him, "Tell it to your friends, your Dad, or even the salesperson, but you should have NEVER told me!" Even if it was just a Christmas present, I would never tell someone I saved money on something I purchased for them. I know only I can decide if he is sincere in his proposal, but I have to admit I threw the red flag.
Returning to my original question, how do you teach someone to be romantic? My fiance is a genius and I mean that literally. He has a genius IQ. He also has ADD and the biggest heart. I love him dearly, but I really would love him to be more romantic. I would love to be more romantic. What if anything has anyone tried and succeeded regarding romance? I would love to hear your stories of romantic gestures and suggestions! Here's to Romance!!
I really feel that romance is doing something for someone for no other reason than to make them feel special. It is an expression of how you feel about that person in your heart. Unfortunately, some of us have non-creative, goofy or twisted hearts that don't quite see romance in the same way "normal" people might. This is okay, it is just that romance can be tricky. Is it romantic that I buy my fiance a special shampoo that he really likes and give him pedicures? I think so. Is it romantic that he likes to name his Dungeon & Dragons female characters after me? I think it could be if they weren't all demonic and weird. I rather enjoy the fact that he is thinking about me so much that it spills over into his other activities, but do I necessarily think it's romantic? No, but I guess I should.
I firmly believe that romance is a lost art that will most likely die forever due to the Women's Movement, pornography, and the invention of the internet, but there are some hopeless romantics out there. A friend of mine's husband sends her flowers almost weekly because he misses her as a long haul truck driver. I hear stories of romantic proposals and see them on the internet and they remind me that romance isn't dead altogether. My son picks weeds for me from time to time in the lot behind our house and brings me flowers he has picked. I hope he continues to find ways to be romantic to his future mates. I try to instill in my boys a sense that doing things for others just simply to make them happy is not just a simple kind gesture, but that it goes a long way in building a solid relationship.
One problem with romance is the commercial aspect of things sold under the label of being romantic. I don't think it really matters what you buy a person. A simple poem or a handwritten card saying "I love you" is very romantic to me. I never bought into the idea that being romantic had to cost a person a fortune. When I want to be in a romantic mood, I envision candle light, soft music, a nice meal or snack and then an activity that I think that person will enjoy that might include a foot massage or neck rub or a movie we both like. Flowers sent to work with an invitation for a date is very romantic gesture. I think the best present you can give someone is attention! Put the phone away, go for a walk, and just let that person know that he/she is the most important thing in the world to you. So many times I think people send things to make up for time they aren't spending with the people they care about. Texting isn't romantic! I don't care what you text, but it is the laziest form of communication ever and will never replace an actual face to face smile.
Videos, movies and TV have ruined romance for the average man. What woman wouldn't want to be swept away on a helicopter ride overlooking Maui? Shows like the Bachelor and other reality TV dating shows make me want to puke and what's worse? They are all fake looking for their fifteen minutes of fame and using the guise of a lasting relationship. It has nothing to do with romance and doing something only to make someone happy! They have distorted romance into some weird junior high popularity contest. The helicopter rides and vacation destinations don't happen in real life. Prince charming is more likely your neighbor who came over and sharpened your mover blades after he saw you struggling for hours trying to mow your lawn in 110 degree heat. Princess Charming is the gal who didn't care if you were making six figures or lived with your parents and was just happy you called her back the next day. I think we take for granted the small gestures and our expectations of romance are unrealistic. Like Julia Roberts said in Pretty Woman, "I want the fairytale." Well Julia, me too and when monkey's fly outta my butt...
One very important obstacle to romance is timing. A man can have the most wonderful evening planned and come home to his haggard wife that has been puked on, pissed on, listened to screaming kids all day and finally got them all down for a nap so she can take a shower for the first time that day and ruin all his plans for romance. Planning a romantic event takes work! So many times a man plans something wonderful only to have it fall apart at game time. My advice? Don't plan something huge, do something small all the time.
Like I mentioned, I have a fiance and I try to do small things for him on a regular basis. Even if it's just getting the kind of toothpaste he likes, I pay attention to what he likes! He is far from a Don Juan, but he does try and I appreciate his efforts. However, one place he had an epic fail was his proposal. It was a non-proposal in fact. I got a ring for Christmas and have not yet received an acceptable proposal. Do I expect a bended-knee profession of his never ending love by the Eiffel Tower? Hell yes! Am I going to get it, probably not. Will I marry him? I guess we'll have to wait and see, but I took the ring all the same because I love him. My fear is that, like my previous marriage, it will hold no romance because I allowed my mate to think this was acceptable when frankly, it is not. I don't need roses every week, or a trip to Maui, or even Paris. I do need him to bring me flowers sometimes though and I would like to take a vacation so that we can spend one on one time together away from school, work and other pressures of daily life. I want him to dance with me in our living room to his prized recording of Sinatra. I want him to make a candle light dinner for me. I worry that this will become another deal breaker a few years from now. What if he never brings me any more flowers, or sends me any love notes, or only calls me when he needs toilet paper? If he failed so miserably at a marriage proposal, is this a sign of things to come? Isn't a marriage proposal one of the best times to do something romantic? AND he told me he got my ring on sale! I know I'm being a total woman about this and honestly our budget wasn't anything to be bragging about at the time, but you NEVER tell your fiance you cheeped out on her engagement ring! ANTI-ROMANTIC!!!! I know his personality and I realize he was proud that he saved quite a bit of money, but like I relayed to him, "Tell it to your friends, your Dad, or even the salesperson, but you should have NEVER told me!" Even if it was just a Christmas present, I would never tell someone I saved money on something I purchased for them. I know only I can decide if he is sincere in his proposal, but I have to admit I threw the red flag.
Returning to my original question, how do you teach someone to be romantic? My fiance is a genius and I mean that literally. He has a genius IQ. He also has ADD and the biggest heart. I love him dearly, but I really would love him to be more romantic. I would love to be more romantic. What if anything has anyone tried and succeeded regarding romance? I would love to hear your stories of romantic gestures and suggestions! Here's to Romance!!
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Perfection!
Remember that game Perfection? I used to play that game as a child. Trying to fit all those oddly shaped pieces in thirty seconds or less with that buzzing noise and my brother and sister yelling, "Oh Hurry!!!" For that thirty intense seconds the rush of getting that perfect and beating the game before all hell broke loose was the best analogy for my life I have come up with. There is only one problem with my life, it doesn't mirror that game. It isn't a game at all. The pieces of my life are broken, from other peoples' games, or just plain missing. Its pretty hard to fit a jigsaw puzzle piece into a round hole, but yet I have tried with the clock ticking and people yelling at me to hurry up. Guess what? I didn't win, all hell broke loose and my "perfect" moment was thrown to the wind.
Hello, my name is Crystal and I'm a recovering Perfectionist. I am not perfect and I don't care if you aren't either. Life is not easy most of the time and it is even harder when we all hold ourselves to incredible standards and strive for perfection. Perfection is an illusion created by our own expectations. For example, I can look at Cindy Crawford (Wow dating myself a little there!) and say she has a perfect face and a perfect body in that picture and assume she must have a perfect life and a perfect husband, perfect, perfect, perfect. That photo is the game Perfection. A thirty second snapshot that in my mind appears perfect. In reality, she may have starved herself for a month to lose nine pounds because the producer for that shoot thought she needed to be one size smaller or a little gaunt looking for that particular picture. She might have been struggling with going on location versus spending time with her actor boyfriend, who could possibly fall in love with a co-star while she was starving and working hard to capitalize on her looks while she could. She might have had to wear extensions and false eyelashes because the stress of always looking perfect was making her hair fall out. However, for that thirty seconds she won MY game of Perfection. She fit into the hole I had created for a perfect look. I only fit into that hole maybe once or twice in my opinion and the rest of the time my muffin top and wide hips that pushed out two children like a pro were way to wide to allow me to fit, but I wasted a lot of time trying. I starved, worked out, spent money on diets and Weight Watchers trying to fit into that hole while my time ran out over and over again. One day my hairstylist, who is one of my best friends, said to me something profound that I have never forgotten. I was giving her a picture of a model with hair that was cut pretty much like I had mine cut, just styled differently, and I was arguing with her the possibility of her making my hair look like that. She explained that this picture was taken with perfect lighting, perfect wind machines, a team of stylists with makeup and was probably the best shot of a hundred taken that day with perfect weather conditions by a professional photographer. My hair was never going to look like that! BUZZ! All the pieces flying! Then she said something that made me cry. "You have the most beautiful hair and you don't even know it," and I didn't. I really didn't know that my hair was beautiful because I was too busy trying to make it look perfect.
Perfection can be a powerful addictive force. It is the force that compels Olympians, professional athletes, artists, and other very passionate people. Talk to any one of these people and you can easily see a hefty price they have paid for those gold medals or their careers. Perfectionists have incredibly high standards that they can apply at will to themselves or others that affect their lives. I often had other moms tell me, "Wow, you did all that? It's perfect!" What I heard was, "Wow, you're a perfect Mom." I can't tell you the addiction that fed in me. They should have asked my children how perfect I was. It is an addiction that many people feel like they have to look perfect for others. When I had all my kids' toys labeled in boxes of separate colored legos and everything had a place it belonged or my kitchen smelled like Betty Crocker had been there all day, I was at my peak of perfection. However, just like the photograph above it was a sick illusion. I was a control freak that made my children feel worthless because they didn't understand that I needed them to be as perfect as me and keep their things organized. I needed them to stop making my pieces fall out! I needed to look perfect, but they were just babies and I yelled at them. My worst regret as a parent was that I scared my kids and yelled making them feel like they needed to be perfect too. Instead of playing with them and making games out of cleanup time or just not buying them any more useless toys they had way too many of, I robbed them of innocence and included them in my addiction to the pursuit of perfection. Perfect Mom? Perfect Monster is more like it.
What creates this need to be perfect? I have spent a great deal of time examining my addiction and have come up with a few answers. The first is just as I described above, our parents. My mother was an avid perfectionist, although she denies it to this day. Just as I yelled at my boys for being their authentic little selves and make a mess of my perfectly organized rooms, she yelled at me for being less than perfect as a child. Thankfully our situations were drastically different as mothers go. I was a stay at home mom that put all of my self-worth into having a clean house, dinner ready by five o'clock (and not mac-n-cheese mind you, dinner from scratch!), and a well groomed lawn. I was room-mother, mommy and me group participant, pre-school helper, etc. I loved it and hated it at the same time. I loved the attention I would get from other moms, but it was so stressful to maintain that level of perfection that at home, I was a bitch on wheels. My now ex-husband hated me, my kids were afraid of me and I never took time out to enjoy all those events I was running all over the place to organize or enjoy my own perfect home. BUZZ! Guess what? Exactly, all my pieces kept flying out. Nine years of that, adding on two part time jobs and I literally had gained 100 pounds, I was miserable and unstable mentally. Perfect you say? Perfect mess!
A little background on my parents? My mother was a teen mom who married my twenty year old dad. She was the youngest of five children in a poor family with a teen mom and a controlling father. I think she basically raised herself with little parent involvement and learned very early that as long as you "appear" clean and normal, all things are possible. She grew up craving attention that was divided between four other children from parents who worked very long hours. She matured into a master manipulator and behaving in ways that fed her need for attention and acceptance she wasn't getting from her parents. Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming her for anything or my grandparents. I think they all did the best job they could with the tools they were given. When my mom's first marriage failed she immediately married my step-father and further complicated our lives forever. I plan on blogging a future blog regarding father figures, but for now I want to just say, it would have been more helpful to me if my mother had stayed single her entire life and grew up instead of remaining a perpetual twenty-something and letting my step-father take care of her like he was her father. I truly believe my mother spent thirty-two years playing Perfection and I watched her pieces fly off into space so many times that I became to believe that was what marriage was. The man gets to dictate what the expectations for you are and you have to fit into them. Again, not blaming my parents because they do love me and they did the best they could. I think they both suffered severely in pursuit of perfection. My step-father had extreme expectations of himself and everyone around him and if you didn't live up to them, you were worthless. My mother was obsessed with living up to his ideal expectations of what she should do that she never even considered what she wanted to do with the majority of her life and she created a fear in all of us; of my father, of rejection, of pain and of being authentically ourselves. There was no room for anything artistic or different, just the expectation of perfection. Notice how it was no longer just enough to be clean and normal? Now we had to be perfect! We had the best toys, the best clothes, the best cars. My brother had a Porsche for Christ's sake and we lived in Kansas. My parent's marriage, the relationship that set the tone for all my expectations of future relationships, was a lie. I won't say my mother and father didn't love each other, because I believe they do. I also believe they didn't have a clue what love was for a very long time and they still struggle with the concept. My parents are now divorced and my mother struggles daily with expectations. She has no concept of self, money, responsibility but she is learning slowly and painfully. It is hard to grow up at 57. I can see that she has lost so many of her pieces now that she has quit playing the game. She can recognize when she is feeding her attention addiction and when she is truly enjoying herself. She is finally maturing into a woman she likes and I'm proud of her. She isn't perfect, but that is okay with me and okay with her. She is starting to not expect me to be as perfect either, which is nice.
Was my first marriage doomed because of the expectations I had growing up? No, but it started out with many strikes against it. I had many strikes against me becoming a well rounded adult, even though from an outsider I'm sure we all looked like we had it made in the shade. I struggled as a child to be perfect. I had to get straight A's and wear nice clothes and smile. Why you ask? Because that is what was expected of me. If I can rewind back to my mother's first marriage for a second, it may explain a little more of my issue with perfection. My biological father told me once and I think I was around age seven, "You are my perfect little girl." I was wearing a crushed blue velvet dress at his wedding. I really liked this particular woman he married, she had no kids and she spoiled me rotten. She was the best cook and a sweet little Mexican woman named Debbie. Debbie basically thought I parted the sea! We collected dolls and went shopping on my weekends with my Dad. My Dad thought we were just a perfect little family and we were as long as the money kept flowing and they got along. Unfortunately, my biological father was a drug dealer and a liar. Debbie divorced him and I never saw her again and he never told me I was perfect again. He never said he was sorry she left. In fact we never talked about her again. I missed her very badly! She made may father better and showed me he was capable of staying sober for the weekends I was there and having fun with us. When she left he went right back to getting high, whether I was there or not, among other things that were destructive. As I matured, I decided I wasn't going to see him anymore because of his choice to live a lifestyle that had nothing to do with being a responsible parent. He built up in my heart a longing to be that little princess in the crushed blue velvet dress though. It was extremely difficult to let go of all that pain and anger, but I did for me. I did not, however, let go of my need to be perfect and my belief that if I was my next Dad would love me enough. So many issues, not enough blog right? I'll get back to my father's in another blog I promise.
I was perfect for quite some time. A perfect student, a perfect daughter/babysitter/friend to all the people around me. I had lots of friends, boyfriends, voted most popular and was in all the yearbook pictures. Then a wonderful thing happened. I fell hopelessly and madly in love! My first crush and my first lover. I would have done anything for that boy and did. I can still feel that rush of emotion. He was my idea of perfection and I was his. I would love to say this ended well, but given the theme here I think you will guess where this is going. BUZZ! Pieces everywhere! Let's just say after high school he married someone else. I was in a state of devastation. I compared everyone to him and constantly wondered why didn't he want to marry me? I would recover slightly, but I couldn't get over the fact he chose someone else. He broke up with me and was married a couple months later. We had broken up several times, but had always come back together. I wasn't perfect enough. My pieces didn't fit anymore, but apparently hers did. So, off I went to college to get some new pieces! I recovered, but was still reeling from that break up when all my friends were getting married and having babies. My new pieces were soaked in alcohol. I was miserable. Enter my first husband who was more than happy to pick up all my pieces because he didn't have any of his own. He was a loner with almost no friends, barely moved out of his parents house and into their rental house, decent job, decent looks, no where near my ideal perfect. I was so tired and worn down at this point (drunk a lot of the time) that I settled. Amazingly, nobody tried to convince me I was in severe need of therapy, not a long term relationship. My ex-husband did make some of my pieces fit. He helped me regain some confidence and helped me become a mother, but then time ran out along with all our money. BUZZ!! All hell broke loose! When all the pieces finally fell out of my marriage, I was completely at a loss. I did get some therapy and started really looking at myself. This is the point in the story when I just put the game away and started being totally honest. I was not perfect and that was really okay with me. It wasn't okay with most of the people that knew me it turns out.
Second thing that made me a Perfectionist is the attention I received from everyone for appearing perfect. Even though I was killing myself to look slim (and literally starving myself, ruining my metabolism) and spending way too much money on lots of things I didn't need and the kids didn't need from clothes to household goods, I thrived on the attention I got from other mom's, teachers, friends and co-workers. Early on in our marriage my ex-husband lost all interest in me because I was not a very nice person. Selifsh, needy, self-absorbed and angry were what he received most of the time. I never blamed him for losing interest, I did blame him later for not trying to work things out until it was too late. I never received much attention from him and mostly just received criticism and anger in return. We fed off each other in negative ways and ending our eleven year marriage was the best thing that ever happened to me. I still work on our relationship daily to co-parent and be as positive in our childrens' lives as possible. I think I replaced alcohol with him for awhile and then realized I didn't need either one. I wanted him to be my husband, but he wanted me to NEED him. He still doesn't understand the difference, but he has a new wife that needs him desperately to make her pieces fit. After my divorce, I got a lot of attention from men. I had lost weight and was free and open to everything. I went a little crazy. I dated around and had fun. I don't regret those months, but I realized very quickly this wasn't the kind of attention I wanted either. I wanted something honest, something real! I now get my attention from myself and it's awesome. I get attention even if I'm not a princess because I pay attention to my feelings and my patterns. I listen to my gut when I am dreading a task. I ask questions like, "Why am I doing this?" I think about what I'm doing, not what I'm going to get out of doing this. I don't care what people think about me anymore. I don't want to be perfect and I don't want anyone I'm with to feel like I think they have to be perfect. I find ways to celebrate my kids and how they are unique and different and NEVER make them fear rejection from me just because they did something I didn't expect or don't have an interest in. Do I still love attention? Yes, that is what recovery is about. I'm not under a time limit and I can make mistakes, but I'm conscious in my decisions and I'm not trying to be perfect just real. Amazingly enough, I do get attention from the people who love me just as I am and it feels so much better than getting attention for things that were lies.
The third thing that made me an avid Perfectionist was my expectations about EVERYTHING! I'm still trying daily to figure out where in the hell I got the idea that I had to be Martha Stewart? Sometimes I think we are just born with screwed up ideas in our heads and the nature part gets all mixed up with the nurture part. I did watch an abundance of TV in my younger years, but still I don't think that is responsible for the "Clarke Griswald" affect. You know that speech in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation where Chevy Chase and his wife are laying in bed covered in tree sap and she is trying desperately to convince him that his expectations of every family event were just too high? Like him, I would have no part of it. I had an vision in my head of something wonderful and nothing would convince me that my expectation was outrageous. Once I was able to logically and rationally accept that I didn't have to be perfect, magically neither did anything or anyone else. It has been absolutely freeing to realize that I didn't have to blow $3,000.00 on Christmas so everyone would have an awful time. I spent about $500.00 total last year and it was the most heartwarming wonderful Christmas I have had in years and I felt so close to my kids. It is truly a wonderfully imperfect life. I try to approach all situations with an open possibility, not a rigid expectation. I expect to make mistakes! Turns out I'm pretty good at making them despite my perception of perfection.
I'm not trying to win anymore. I'm not in a hurry unless I'm driving. I'm not as intense, angry, irritated, selfish, and mean as I used to be. It's hard to get things done perfectly and be nice. I am more concerned about being myself than being a perfect bitch that gets a lot of things done at the expense of everyone's feelings. I'm not trying to please anybody or make anybody else happy. I am trying to be positive, hopeful and open.
I want to share one more story with you about perfection. The night of my 3rd Grade Music Program my mother was desperately trying to get my brother that was three and my sister that was one and a half ready, fed, and into their nice clothes without making us late. My step-dad was attempting to go this time making matters worse because he was hogging the bathroom from my mom. My mom placed a glass bottle of baby food (turkey I think) in the microwave. I'm standing in the kitchen in my dress watching complete choas (feeling the timer clicking trying to get those pieces to fit) doing everything my mom was asking quickly, furiously trying to help her make us look perfect and dress my baby brother. The microwave exploded in a hail of glass and hot baby food. To this day my mom doesn't remember if she left the metal lid on or what happened, but we were all covered in babyfood! It was on the ceiling. She had glass in her eyes and my sister was screaming bloody murder. (BUZZ time ran out) My step-dad came out of the bathroom and screamed at me for having a program. I don't even remember what he said, but I remember I felt this was all my fault. I think I truly gave up on my family that night. This is how sick and twistedly perfect we were, we made it there on time. There is no way anyone would have know a piece of my soul died to make it to that program and the pain I felt knowing my mother had glass in her eye and sat there beside my her man instead of asking him to take us on the program while she went to the hospital. She did go the next day, but she knew he wouldn't have gone and that I would have missed my program. What she didn't know is I could have cared less and wanted to crawl in a hole and die from being yelled at all night. If you take anything else from this blog, let it be this. Nobody is perfect! Least of all a child. They are supposed to make mistakes and pour paint on carpets! They are supposed to get dirty and smelly and hate to take a bath! They are people in progress and should never feel bad because they aren't perfect. I wasn't responsible for getting to my music concert on time or for even scheduling the stupid concert, but I am responsible for my kids learning they don't have to be or pursue perfection or expect life to be perfect. Life is messed up, sticky, wonderful, unexpected, and wrong sometimes. It's not a game and you don't get a redo so you should try hard! Effort is all I ask from my kids most days, but love is always what I get and that is so much better than perfection.
** P.S. I use the word addiction lightly, but I really feel like I have an addiction that is as strong as alcohol or drugs. I use the word recovery because I have had therapy, but still have to work on my issues daily!! I don't want to diminish anyone that is struggling with a "real" addiction to drugs or alcohol by using these terms. I am not a therapist and don't want to be one! These are just my feelings.
Hello, my name is Crystal and I'm a recovering Perfectionist. I am not perfect and I don't care if you aren't either. Life is not easy most of the time and it is even harder when we all hold ourselves to incredible standards and strive for perfection. Perfection is an illusion created by our own expectations. For example, I can look at Cindy Crawford (Wow dating myself a little there!) and say she has a perfect face and a perfect body in that picture and assume she must have a perfect life and a perfect husband, perfect, perfect, perfect. That photo is the game Perfection. A thirty second snapshot that in my mind appears perfect. In reality, she may have starved herself for a month to lose nine pounds because the producer for that shoot thought she needed to be one size smaller or a little gaunt looking for that particular picture. She might have been struggling with going on location versus spending time with her actor boyfriend, who could possibly fall in love with a co-star while she was starving and working hard to capitalize on her looks while she could. She might have had to wear extensions and false eyelashes because the stress of always looking perfect was making her hair fall out. However, for that thirty seconds she won MY game of Perfection. She fit into the hole I had created for a perfect look. I only fit into that hole maybe once or twice in my opinion and the rest of the time my muffin top and wide hips that pushed out two children like a pro were way to wide to allow me to fit, but I wasted a lot of time trying. I starved, worked out, spent money on diets and Weight Watchers trying to fit into that hole while my time ran out over and over again. One day my hairstylist, who is one of my best friends, said to me something profound that I have never forgotten. I was giving her a picture of a model with hair that was cut pretty much like I had mine cut, just styled differently, and I was arguing with her the possibility of her making my hair look like that. She explained that this picture was taken with perfect lighting, perfect wind machines, a team of stylists with makeup and was probably the best shot of a hundred taken that day with perfect weather conditions by a professional photographer. My hair was never going to look like that! BUZZ! All the pieces flying! Then she said something that made me cry. "You have the most beautiful hair and you don't even know it," and I didn't. I really didn't know that my hair was beautiful because I was too busy trying to make it look perfect.
Perfection can be a powerful addictive force. It is the force that compels Olympians, professional athletes, artists, and other very passionate people. Talk to any one of these people and you can easily see a hefty price they have paid for those gold medals or their careers. Perfectionists have incredibly high standards that they can apply at will to themselves or others that affect their lives. I often had other moms tell me, "Wow, you did all that? It's perfect!" What I heard was, "Wow, you're a perfect Mom." I can't tell you the addiction that fed in me. They should have asked my children how perfect I was. It is an addiction that many people feel like they have to look perfect for others. When I had all my kids' toys labeled in boxes of separate colored legos and everything had a place it belonged or my kitchen smelled like Betty Crocker had been there all day, I was at my peak of perfection. However, just like the photograph above it was a sick illusion. I was a control freak that made my children feel worthless because they didn't understand that I needed them to be as perfect as me and keep their things organized. I needed them to stop making my pieces fall out! I needed to look perfect, but they were just babies and I yelled at them. My worst regret as a parent was that I scared my kids and yelled making them feel like they needed to be perfect too. Instead of playing with them and making games out of cleanup time or just not buying them any more useless toys they had way too many of, I robbed them of innocence and included them in my addiction to the pursuit of perfection. Perfect Mom? Perfect Monster is more like it.
What creates this need to be perfect? I have spent a great deal of time examining my addiction and have come up with a few answers. The first is just as I described above, our parents. My mother was an avid perfectionist, although she denies it to this day. Just as I yelled at my boys for being their authentic little selves and make a mess of my perfectly organized rooms, she yelled at me for being less than perfect as a child. Thankfully our situations were drastically different as mothers go. I was a stay at home mom that put all of my self-worth into having a clean house, dinner ready by five o'clock (and not mac-n-cheese mind you, dinner from scratch!), and a well groomed lawn. I was room-mother, mommy and me group participant, pre-school helper, etc. I loved it and hated it at the same time. I loved the attention I would get from other moms, but it was so stressful to maintain that level of perfection that at home, I was a bitch on wheels. My now ex-husband hated me, my kids were afraid of me and I never took time out to enjoy all those events I was running all over the place to organize or enjoy my own perfect home. BUZZ! Guess what? Exactly, all my pieces kept flying out. Nine years of that, adding on two part time jobs and I literally had gained 100 pounds, I was miserable and unstable mentally. Perfect you say? Perfect mess!
A little background on my parents? My mother was a teen mom who married my twenty year old dad. She was the youngest of five children in a poor family with a teen mom and a controlling father. I think she basically raised herself with little parent involvement and learned very early that as long as you "appear" clean and normal, all things are possible. She grew up craving attention that was divided between four other children from parents who worked very long hours. She matured into a master manipulator and behaving in ways that fed her need for attention and acceptance she wasn't getting from her parents. Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming her for anything or my grandparents. I think they all did the best job they could with the tools they were given. When my mom's first marriage failed she immediately married my step-father and further complicated our lives forever. I plan on blogging a future blog regarding father figures, but for now I want to just say, it would have been more helpful to me if my mother had stayed single her entire life and grew up instead of remaining a perpetual twenty-something and letting my step-father take care of her like he was her father. I truly believe my mother spent thirty-two years playing Perfection and I watched her pieces fly off into space so many times that I became to believe that was what marriage was. The man gets to dictate what the expectations for you are and you have to fit into them. Again, not blaming my parents because they do love me and they did the best they could. I think they both suffered severely in pursuit of perfection. My step-father had extreme expectations of himself and everyone around him and if you didn't live up to them, you were worthless. My mother was obsessed with living up to his ideal expectations of what she should do that she never even considered what she wanted to do with the majority of her life and she created a fear in all of us; of my father, of rejection, of pain and of being authentically ourselves. There was no room for anything artistic or different, just the expectation of perfection. Notice how it was no longer just enough to be clean and normal? Now we had to be perfect! We had the best toys, the best clothes, the best cars. My brother had a Porsche for Christ's sake and we lived in Kansas. My parent's marriage, the relationship that set the tone for all my expectations of future relationships, was a lie. I won't say my mother and father didn't love each other, because I believe they do. I also believe they didn't have a clue what love was for a very long time and they still struggle with the concept. My parents are now divorced and my mother struggles daily with expectations. She has no concept of self, money, responsibility but she is learning slowly and painfully. It is hard to grow up at 57. I can see that she has lost so many of her pieces now that she has quit playing the game. She can recognize when she is feeding her attention addiction and when she is truly enjoying herself. She is finally maturing into a woman she likes and I'm proud of her. She isn't perfect, but that is okay with me and okay with her. She is starting to not expect me to be as perfect either, which is nice.
Was my first marriage doomed because of the expectations I had growing up? No, but it started out with many strikes against it. I had many strikes against me becoming a well rounded adult, even though from an outsider I'm sure we all looked like we had it made in the shade. I struggled as a child to be perfect. I had to get straight A's and wear nice clothes and smile. Why you ask? Because that is what was expected of me. If I can rewind back to my mother's first marriage for a second, it may explain a little more of my issue with perfection. My biological father told me once and I think I was around age seven, "You are my perfect little girl." I was wearing a crushed blue velvet dress at his wedding. I really liked this particular woman he married, she had no kids and she spoiled me rotten. She was the best cook and a sweet little Mexican woman named Debbie. Debbie basically thought I parted the sea! We collected dolls and went shopping on my weekends with my Dad. My Dad thought we were just a perfect little family and we were as long as the money kept flowing and they got along. Unfortunately, my biological father was a drug dealer and a liar. Debbie divorced him and I never saw her again and he never told me I was perfect again. He never said he was sorry she left. In fact we never talked about her again. I missed her very badly! She made may father better and showed me he was capable of staying sober for the weekends I was there and having fun with us. When she left he went right back to getting high, whether I was there or not, among other things that were destructive. As I matured, I decided I wasn't going to see him anymore because of his choice to live a lifestyle that had nothing to do with being a responsible parent. He built up in my heart a longing to be that little princess in the crushed blue velvet dress though. It was extremely difficult to let go of all that pain and anger, but I did for me. I did not, however, let go of my need to be perfect and my belief that if I was my next Dad would love me enough. So many issues, not enough blog right? I'll get back to my father's in another blog I promise.
I was perfect for quite some time. A perfect student, a perfect daughter/babysitter/friend to all the people around me. I had lots of friends, boyfriends, voted most popular and was in all the yearbook pictures. Then a wonderful thing happened. I fell hopelessly and madly in love! My first crush and my first lover. I would have done anything for that boy and did. I can still feel that rush of emotion. He was my idea of perfection and I was his. I would love to say this ended well, but given the theme here I think you will guess where this is going. BUZZ! Pieces everywhere! Let's just say after high school he married someone else. I was in a state of devastation. I compared everyone to him and constantly wondered why didn't he want to marry me? I would recover slightly, but I couldn't get over the fact he chose someone else. He broke up with me and was married a couple months later. We had broken up several times, but had always come back together. I wasn't perfect enough. My pieces didn't fit anymore, but apparently hers did. So, off I went to college to get some new pieces! I recovered, but was still reeling from that break up when all my friends were getting married and having babies. My new pieces were soaked in alcohol. I was miserable. Enter my first husband who was more than happy to pick up all my pieces because he didn't have any of his own. He was a loner with almost no friends, barely moved out of his parents house and into their rental house, decent job, decent looks, no where near my ideal perfect. I was so tired and worn down at this point (drunk a lot of the time) that I settled. Amazingly, nobody tried to convince me I was in severe need of therapy, not a long term relationship. My ex-husband did make some of my pieces fit. He helped me regain some confidence and helped me become a mother, but then time ran out along with all our money. BUZZ!! All hell broke loose! When all the pieces finally fell out of my marriage, I was completely at a loss. I did get some therapy and started really looking at myself. This is the point in the story when I just put the game away and started being totally honest. I was not perfect and that was really okay with me. It wasn't okay with most of the people that knew me it turns out.
Second thing that made me a Perfectionist is the attention I received from everyone for appearing perfect. Even though I was killing myself to look slim (and literally starving myself, ruining my metabolism) and spending way too much money on lots of things I didn't need and the kids didn't need from clothes to household goods, I thrived on the attention I got from other mom's, teachers, friends and co-workers. Early on in our marriage my ex-husband lost all interest in me because I was not a very nice person. Selifsh, needy, self-absorbed and angry were what he received most of the time. I never blamed him for losing interest, I did blame him later for not trying to work things out until it was too late. I never received much attention from him and mostly just received criticism and anger in return. We fed off each other in negative ways and ending our eleven year marriage was the best thing that ever happened to me. I still work on our relationship daily to co-parent and be as positive in our childrens' lives as possible. I think I replaced alcohol with him for awhile and then realized I didn't need either one. I wanted him to be my husband, but he wanted me to NEED him. He still doesn't understand the difference, but he has a new wife that needs him desperately to make her pieces fit. After my divorce, I got a lot of attention from men. I had lost weight and was free and open to everything. I went a little crazy. I dated around and had fun. I don't regret those months, but I realized very quickly this wasn't the kind of attention I wanted either. I wanted something honest, something real! I now get my attention from myself and it's awesome. I get attention even if I'm not a princess because I pay attention to my feelings and my patterns. I listen to my gut when I am dreading a task. I ask questions like, "Why am I doing this?" I think about what I'm doing, not what I'm going to get out of doing this. I don't care what people think about me anymore. I don't want to be perfect and I don't want anyone I'm with to feel like I think they have to be perfect. I find ways to celebrate my kids and how they are unique and different and NEVER make them fear rejection from me just because they did something I didn't expect or don't have an interest in. Do I still love attention? Yes, that is what recovery is about. I'm not under a time limit and I can make mistakes, but I'm conscious in my decisions and I'm not trying to be perfect just real. Amazingly enough, I do get attention from the people who love me just as I am and it feels so much better than getting attention for things that were lies.
The third thing that made me an avid Perfectionist was my expectations about EVERYTHING! I'm still trying daily to figure out where in the hell I got the idea that I had to be Martha Stewart? Sometimes I think we are just born with screwed up ideas in our heads and the nature part gets all mixed up with the nurture part. I did watch an abundance of TV in my younger years, but still I don't think that is responsible for the "Clarke Griswald" affect. You know that speech in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation where Chevy Chase and his wife are laying in bed covered in tree sap and she is trying desperately to convince him that his expectations of every family event were just too high? Like him, I would have no part of it. I had an vision in my head of something wonderful and nothing would convince me that my expectation was outrageous. Once I was able to logically and rationally accept that I didn't have to be perfect, magically neither did anything or anyone else. It has been absolutely freeing to realize that I didn't have to blow $3,000.00 on Christmas so everyone would have an awful time. I spent about $500.00 total last year and it was the most heartwarming wonderful Christmas I have had in years and I felt so close to my kids. It is truly a wonderfully imperfect life. I try to approach all situations with an open possibility, not a rigid expectation. I expect to make mistakes! Turns out I'm pretty good at making them despite my perception of perfection.
I'm not trying to win anymore. I'm not in a hurry unless I'm driving. I'm not as intense, angry, irritated, selfish, and mean as I used to be. It's hard to get things done perfectly and be nice. I am more concerned about being myself than being a perfect bitch that gets a lot of things done at the expense of everyone's feelings. I'm not trying to please anybody or make anybody else happy. I am trying to be positive, hopeful and open.
I want to share one more story with you about perfection. The night of my 3rd Grade Music Program my mother was desperately trying to get my brother that was three and my sister that was one and a half ready, fed, and into their nice clothes without making us late. My step-dad was attempting to go this time making matters worse because he was hogging the bathroom from my mom. My mom placed a glass bottle of baby food (turkey I think) in the microwave. I'm standing in the kitchen in my dress watching complete choas (feeling the timer clicking trying to get those pieces to fit) doing everything my mom was asking quickly, furiously trying to help her make us look perfect and dress my baby brother. The microwave exploded in a hail of glass and hot baby food. To this day my mom doesn't remember if she left the metal lid on or what happened, but we were all covered in babyfood! It was on the ceiling. She had glass in her eyes and my sister was screaming bloody murder. (BUZZ time ran out) My step-dad came out of the bathroom and screamed at me for having a program. I don't even remember what he said, but I remember I felt this was all my fault. I think I truly gave up on my family that night. This is how sick and twistedly perfect we were, we made it there on time. There is no way anyone would have know a piece of my soul died to make it to that program and the pain I felt knowing my mother had glass in her eye and sat there beside my her man instead of asking him to take us on the program while she went to the hospital. She did go the next day, but she knew he wouldn't have gone and that I would have missed my program. What she didn't know is I could have cared less and wanted to crawl in a hole and die from being yelled at all night. If you take anything else from this blog, let it be this. Nobody is perfect! Least of all a child. They are supposed to make mistakes and pour paint on carpets! They are supposed to get dirty and smelly and hate to take a bath! They are people in progress and should never feel bad because they aren't perfect. I wasn't responsible for getting to my music concert on time or for even scheduling the stupid concert, but I am responsible for my kids learning they don't have to be or pursue perfection or expect life to be perfect. Life is messed up, sticky, wonderful, unexpected, and wrong sometimes. It's not a game and you don't get a redo so you should try hard! Effort is all I ask from my kids most days, but love is always what I get and that is so much better than perfection.
** P.S. I use the word addiction lightly, but I really feel like I have an addiction that is as strong as alcohol or drugs. I use the word recovery because I have had therapy, but still have to work on my issues daily!! I don't want to diminish anyone that is struggling with a "real" addiction to drugs or alcohol by using these terms. I am not a therapist and don't want to be one! These are just my feelings.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Investment
For the first time in my adult life, I am debt free. I don't own a home. I don't have any credit card debt. I don't have a car payment. It has taken me about five years to accomplish this life goal and I find myself, after struggling financially for almost ten years, in a good place. I have a decent job, a nice rental and I am comfortable. However, my vehicle has about 238,000 miles on it, I would like to move closer to my children's school and I have two boys that are quickly becoming teenagers. So I ask myself, what is that comfort worth to you? I have even managed to same some money from my tax return!! I feel I'm at a crossroads in my life. I would like to invest my money in something that will benefit my family, but I also want to go on vacation, get a new car, move, increase my retirement fund, start a college fund, get a new computer, and go to a spa. It appears in denying myself for three years of the creature comforts I used to indulge in on a regular basis to accumulate that debt, I now don't know what to spend my money at all? Often when I reach one of these dilemmas, it is my life trying to illustrate some lesson.
Making good quality decisions is hard for me. I am one of those people who can do a pro/con list, talk to a financial adviser, a tax professional, my family, my friends and still have no idea what the right decision is. I am a recovering control freak. Making decisions is very easy when you don't have to examine the consequences and when you think you run the universe. After you find out you don't and there are consequences, suddenly making decisions affects everyone and no one is quite as supportive as they had been with an outcome that was more favorable to them. So, I started a joy list. These are some things that bring me joy:
1. My children and the love of my life, Jason.
2. Me - Healthy, Happy and Peaceful me.
3. Writing
4. Reading
5. Travel.
6. Sleep - Yes I am that boring!
7. Gardening
8. Cooking.
9. Organizing - I know its weird, but I have a complete sense of joy when my habitat has a place for everything. Damn that Martha Stewart! Did I mention I was a recovering control freak?
10. Friends
The list goes on and on, but I really think these top ten should always guide my decision making process. However, it hasn't made the process easier. For example, if I were to purchase a new laptop for my writing and for the kids to use, it would satisfy a few of these criteria, but also take away from the time I spend on the other things on my list. If I bought a new car to help me with all the things on my list, I might feel like I had stress from the car payment, but if I don't my car might break down when we are on vacation. Plus, I hate car shopping like I hate going to the dentist! How does a person make decisions and just be okay with what they have decided?
I would love to move and buy a home that is mine. I want to plant a flower garden again and mow the yard. I want to store the Christmas decorations in our basement and celebrate the holidays by filling our home with garland and a beautiful tree. I want the boys to ride their bikes home from school. I want to cook in my own kitchen and have enough room for a king size bed in my bedroom!! I want to paint again and stencil in my kids' bedrooms. However, I can't seem to decide on a house that has enough room and one that will allow me enough of a comfort zone in my budget to not stress. I need to go get a physical and go to the dentist. What do I do? How do I know for sure I'm making the best decisions?
I guess the answer is just save my money. It feels good to have a cushion. I am looking at houses, but much to my agent's frustration, I haven't found one that makes me so excited that I want to go into debt right now. I hate my old clunker, but evidently not enough to drive it down to a dealership and see about trading it in. My wants and my needs are clearly separate at this point in my life and it feels good. I need to feel secure that no creditors are going to garnish my paychecks. I need to know that if I have to have surgery, I can make payments or afford a hospital stay. I need to just sit back and enjoy the fact that the cabinets are full of groceries and I can take my family out to eat on the weekends if the mood strikes. I think I need to just relax more than anything. It is very difficult for me to relax, maintain a calm. Recently, I have signed up for a meditation class. It isn't easy for me to clear my mind. When I shut my eyes I see clicks of pictures like one of those old viewers I had when I was a kid with the round disks. Click! Laundry, click, work, click calendar, click kids, click, grocery list, click etc. etc. etc. This goes on for a while until I systematically start deleting images making the list shorter and shorter. Sometimes, I never get them all deleted and new ones pop in. It's very frustrating. I don't know if I'll ever have a time when I'm done deleting and can just breathe and focus, but I'm trying. I try to meditate an hour a day if possible. I'm also trying to walk for 30 minutes a day. You'll notice exercise was not on my joy list. I have started eating less processed foods. I figured if I'm not cooking, a grab and go veggie tray or fruit would be better than microwave burritos. I really think investing in myself is the answer to how to celebrate my new debt freedom. I also invested in my friends like my hairstylist. I paid her in advance for the summer's cuts and colors and I paid the sitter for the entire summer of daycare up front and it felt great! I love not having to check my account balance constantly and worry about how much gas I have left for the week. So, I'm making an investment in me and giving myself the time to relax and just not make a decision right now. I'm sure soon enough I'll have to spend the rest of the money on something I didn't intend it for, but at least I can take comfort in the fact that I had it there for my needs and I'm getting a facial this weekend!
Making good quality decisions is hard for me. I am one of those people who can do a pro/con list, talk to a financial adviser, a tax professional, my family, my friends and still have no idea what the right decision is. I am a recovering control freak. Making decisions is very easy when you don't have to examine the consequences and when you think you run the universe. After you find out you don't and there are consequences, suddenly making decisions affects everyone and no one is quite as supportive as they had been with an outcome that was more favorable to them. So, I started a joy list. These are some things that bring me joy:
1. My children and the love of my life, Jason.
2. Me - Healthy, Happy and Peaceful me.
3. Writing
4. Reading
5. Travel.
6. Sleep - Yes I am that boring!
7. Gardening
8. Cooking.
9. Organizing - I know its weird, but I have a complete sense of joy when my habitat has a place for everything. Damn that Martha Stewart! Did I mention I was a recovering control freak?
10. Friends
The list goes on and on, but I really think these top ten should always guide my decision making process. However, it hasn't made the process easier. For example, if I were to purchase a new laptop for my writing and for the kids to use, it would satisfy a few of these criteria, but also take away from the time I spend on the other things on my list. If I bought a new car to help me with all the things on my list, I might feel like I had stress from the car payment, but if I don't my car might break down when we are on vacation. Plus, I hate car shopping like I hate going to the dentist! How does a person make decisions and just be okay with what they have decided?
I would love to move and buy a home that is mine. I want to plant a flower garden again and mow the yard. I want to store the Christmas decorations in our basement and celebrate the holidays by filling our home with garland and a beautiful tree. I want the boys to ride their bikes home from school. I want to cook in my own kitchen and have enough room for a king size bed in my bedroom!! I want to paint again and stencil in my kids' bedrooms. However, I can't seem to decide on a house that has enough room and one that will allow me enough of a comfort zone in my budget to not stress. I need to go get a physical and go to the dentist. What do I do? How do I know for sure I'm making the best decisions?
I guess the answer is just save my money. It feels good to have a cushion. I am looking at houses, but much to my agent's frustration, I haven't found one that makes me so excited that I want to go into debt right now. I hate my old clunker, but evidently not enough to drive it down to a dealership and see about trading it in. My wants and my needs are clearly separate at this point in my life and it feels good. I need to feel secure that no creditors are going to garnish my paychecks. I need to know that if I have to have surgery, I can make payments or afford a hospital stay. I need to just sit back and enjoy the fact that the cabinets are full of groceries and I can take my family out to eat on the weekends if the mood strikes. I think I need to just relax more than anything. It is very difficult for me to relax, maintain a calm. Recently, I have signed up for a meditation class. It isn't easy for me to clear my mind. When I shut my eyes I see clicks of pictures like one of those old viewers I had when I was a kid with the round disks. Click! Laundry, click, work, click calendar, click kids, click, grocery list, click etc. etc. etc. This goes on for a while until I systematically start deleting images making the list shorter and shorter. Sometimes, I never get them all deleted and new ones pop in. It's very frustrating. I don't know if I'll ever have a time when I'm done deleting and can just breathe and focus, but I'm trying. I try to meditate an hour a day if possible. I'm also trying to walk for 30 minutes a day. You'll notice exercise was not on my joy list. I have started eating less processed foods. I figured if I'm not cooking, a grab and go veggie tray or fruit would be better than microwave burritos. I really think investing in myself is the answer to how to celebrate my new debt freedom. I also invested in my friends like my hairstylist. I paid her in advance for the summer's cuts and colors and I paid the sitter for the entire summer of daycare up front and it felt great! I love not having to check my account balance constantly and worry about how much gas I have left for the week. So, I'm making an investment in me and giving myself the time to relax and just not make a decision right now. I'm sure soon enough I'll have to spend the rest of the money on something I didn't intend it for, but at least I can take comfort in the fact that I had it there for my needs and I'm getting a facial this weekend!
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