Recently, at work, I've had the pleasure of feeling backed into a corner. Now, not much different from our four legged friends, when I feel backed into a corner, I tend to "fight back." In an effort to stop the barrage, I uttered a sentence that 1) I didn't mean as it was received and 2) I'll never forget. "XXXX, what do you want me to do, I am sitting here feeling like I can't do my job and I should give my two weeks notice." At that point, my two week's notice was accepted. But the barrage continued....until when asked why I didn't know something inside and out....I replied that during the time that this item was on my plate, I was working nearly 70 hours a week getting 7 high importance items launched....something was bound to fall through the cracks. This particular item...I knew there was someone else that knew it inside and out...we worked as a team...and did a great job!
So, I was sent home to think about if I wanted to "retract" the two weeks notice I never gave. The next morning, prepared to eat crow I felt I didn't deserve, I waited patiently for my VP to come in. He eventually showed up just at the start of our morning team meeting and proceeded to humiliate me in front of our entire team. It appears that my campaigns will be disbursed to the rest of the team and I will "sit with them and train." This was on the ninth month anniversary of my employment there. I was mortified, embarassed and humiliated. Had I resources available, I would have packed my stuff and left at that moment...but I need to be responsible. The humiliation continued throughout the next few hours. I was no longer the "lead Account Manager" on accounts that I have managed, grown and nurtured for nine months! I was to do the work, but others would make the decisions. And everyone knows about this...my coworkers are not stupid.
Knowing that I need this job, knowing that I like what I'm doing...and with the counsel of a great friend (thank you Mid), I decided to approach this as an opportunity to learn more. To take information from my co workers and apply it to what I'm doing. I know I do my job very well...but I also know I'm not perfect. Learning other ways to look at the data, presenting the data, and their processes...will not only help me when I'm struggling...but if I ever become a manager, it gives me a view of a different learning style.
Well, yesterday started...I did my end of week reports, then found out...after I sent them...they needed to be reviewed by the new "Lead AM's." This, however, wasn't communicated to me by my immediate supervisor. It appears that she's not talking to me. Ignoring someone is a sign of a stunted maturity in my opinion...especially if you are that person's manager. What kind of manager ignores their employees? How is that good management? What philosophy does that follow?
Everything happens for a reason....I need to believe that right now. I need to hold onto that. My "two week training period" seems an awful lot like a transition of power, so to speak. I suspect that after the first of the year, I'll be terminated. I don't need to be retrained. In fact, not too long ago, I was told how well I performed when training other people. They are merely setting themselves up so if I leave, their most challenging campaigns/clients will be taken care of. Good business sense maybe, poor people management.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Vacation......
My first day of vacation I found myself awake at 6:30am. My first thought was...what the hell??!?!?!? So, I shifted positions, my husband's arms around my waist, and practiced some deep breathing techniques in hopes that I would soon fall back to sleep and slumber until a more respectable vacation wake up time. 6:45am, and my mind is racing...I didn't finish reports for work, my kitchen needs to be cleaned up, the dining room "remodel" needs to be finished, I have to go to Auburn to get the new computer desk....STOP!!! I scream silently to myself. It's vacation....no worry zone!!
I close my eyes and try visualizing myself laying in the sun on a warm day. The heat radiating my face, seeping into my cells, my psyche, my soul, rejuvenating me. Muscles relaxing, mind relaxing....NOPE...7:00 am and I give in. Not able to take it anymore, I slip out of bed, get myself dressed in something more respectable than my birthday suit, and go out to the living room. My dining room is looking good with it's new coat of paint, my dining room table...now in the kitchen...is covered with various items: a monitor, cpu, keyboard, cups, salt and pepper shaker....but I make room for my laptop.
And the first thing I do is check my work email???? What is wrong with me? Well, given the volume of emails I receive in a day, it's probably good to at least check them....less catch up when I return to work. Right? Right? Ok, I am trying to convince myself. I admit it. I'm addicted to working...and I'm working on it...I really, really am. In fact, I shut down my work email. And now, I'm simply surfing the web, I forgot what that was like.
So, back to my story...I was sitting at the table, laptop powered up, cup of ice water to my right....and nothing else. I could hear every creak in the house. My niece snoring in the living room (I think she has sleep apnea.) The monitor heater occasionally turning on to heat the house. I think I even heard a mouse scampering through the walls...yes, we have mice. Please do not tell my mother. The dog was pacing upstairs, probably waiting for his boy to wake up and bring him outside.
About an hour later, movement started to become more pronounced. Matthew came downstairs. The dog started to ask to be brought out. My brother made coffee. Aaron turned on the computer in the living room. Coffee pot brewing, computer humming, people stretching, dogs whining....my house was waking up.
I've been alone in my home before, usually in the afternoons on Saturdays. Sitting at my table, iced water to my right, I enjoyed the sounds of my home waking up. That is a good way to start a vacation.
I close my eyes and try visualizing myself laying in the sun on a warm day. The heat radiating my face, seeping into my cells, my psyche, my soul, rejuvenating me. Muscles relaxing, mind relaxing....NOPE...7:00 am and I give in. Not able to take it anymore, I slip out of bed, get myself dressed in something more respectable than my birthday suit, and go out to the living room. My dining room is looking good with it's new coat of paint, my dining room table...now in the kitchen...is covered with various items: a monitor, cpu, keyboard, cups, salt and pepper shaker....but I make room for my laptop.
And the first thing I do is check my work email???? What is wrong with me? Well, given the volume of emails I receive in a day, it's probably good to at least check them....less catch up when I return to work. Right? Right? Ok, I am trying to convince myself. I admit it. I'm addicted to working...and I'm working on it...I really, really am. In fact, I shut down my work email. And now, I'm simply surfing the web, I forgot what that was like.
So, back to my story...I was sitting at the table, laptop powered up, cup of ice water to my right....and nothing else. I could hear every creak in the house. My niece snoring in the living room (I think she has sleep apnea.) The monitor heater occasionally turning on to heat the house. I think I even heard a mouse scampering through the walls...yes, we have mice. Please do not tell my mother. The dog was pacing upstairs, probably waiting for his boy to wake up and bring him outside.
About an hour later, movement started to become more pronounced. Matthew came downstairs. The dog started to ask to be brought out. My brother made coffee. Aaron turned on the computer in the living room. Coffee pot brewing, computer humming, people stretching, dogs whining....my house was waking up.
I've been alone in my home before, usually in the afternoons on Saturdays. Sitting at my table, iced water to my right, I enjoyed the sounds of my home waking up. That is a good way to start a vacation.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
What song is in your head?
Music is the soul of life...at least that's my opinion. For every single major moment of my life, there's a song associated with it. Some are musically brilliant songs, some aren't great musically, but their message is clear. When I think about meeting my husband "Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You" by Glen Medeiros. Our wedding: "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx. The death of my grandmother "I Will Remember You" and "Angel" by Sarah Mclachlan. When I'm angry "Winter" by Vivaldi. When I need peace "Mozart's Clarinet Concerto" uh...by Mozart, I think. I could go on and on and on. Sometimes I'm not even aware that these songs have these connections for me. The song plays and I instantly go there...suspended in time for a few moments.
I've recently rediscovered my interest in playing and performing music. This is due in part to a few people in my life encouraging me to do so. It was hard to allow myself this "me time" at first. After all, I should be coming home from work and ensuring that my family is taken care of. Now, one night a week, I work late (later than normal for those that are rolling their eyes) and head to rehearsal, not returning home until after 10pm. A long day in the middle of the week....but for two hours I'm lost in a world that exists only for me. In my younger years, that place that I went to was my sanctuary. I could escape the drama of my daily life and forget it existed. It was my place to feel safe, normal, sane, valued, and most of all....complete.
My life, for the most part, is great! I'm surrounded by people who, individually speak to a specific part of who I am (something I'm still learning); and collectively, help me feel whole. I've got the friend that I can go and vent to...because the over-analytical me needs this outlet. I've got the friend who's been by my side for over 22 years....because he knows me better than I know myself sometimes and is my soul mate. I've got the friend who won't allow me to be self-destructive...because that's one of my worst qualities. I've got the friend who encourages me to push deeper into my thoughts/feelings/experiences....because he recognizes that this is a journey that I must take to evolve my spiritual self. I've got the friends who make me laugh so hard I cry and make me feel younger than I am...because our children should help us remember and recapture parts of our youth...especially if your youth never existed. Again, another list that can go on and on. But together, these people, help me see my life through different lenses and help me understand the path that I'm taking.
There are sometimes conflicts and drama with each friend, between sets of friends, or inside myself....conflicts and drama can be very important learning tools. But, after a little over 37 years on Earth, I'm finally beginning to feel whole. Now, to hold my breathe and fight off the feelings of imminent demise....that's my next obstacle.
What song is stuck in your head?
I've recently rediscovered my interest in playing and performing music. This is due in part to a few people in my life encouraging me to do so. It was hard to allow myself this "me time" at first. After all, I should be coming home from work and ensuring that my family is taken care of. Now, one night a week, I work late (later than normal for those that are rolling their eyes) and head to rehearsal, not returning home until after 10pm. A long day in the middle of the week....but for two hours I'm lost in a world that exists only for me. In my younger years, that place that I went to was my sanctuary. I could escape the drama of my daily life and forget it existed. It was my place to feel safe, normal, sane, valued, and most of all....complete.
My life, for the most part, is great! I'm surrounded by people who, individually speak to a specific part of who I am (something I'm still learning); and collectively, help me feel whole. I've got the friend that I can go and vent to...because the over-analytical me needs this outlet. I've got the friend who's been by my side for over 22 years....because he knows me better than I know myself sometimes and is my soul mate. I've got the friend who won't allow me to be self-destructive...because that's one of my worst qualities. I've got the friend who encourages me to push deeper into my thoughts/feelings/experiences....because he recognizes that this is a journey that I must take to evolve my spiritual self. I've got the friends who make me laugh so hard I cry and make me feel younger than I am...because our children should help us remember and recapture parts of our youth...especially if your youth never existed. Again, another list that can go on and on. But together, these people, help me see my life through different lenses and help me understand the path that I'm taking.
There are sometimes conflicts and drama with each friend, between sets of friends, or inside myself....conflicts and drama can be very important learning tools. But, after a little over 37 years on Earth, I'm finally beginning to feel whole. Now, to hold my breathe and fight off the feelings of imminent demise....that's my next obstacle.
What song is stuck in your head?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Mid-Life Crisis or Growing Into Me?
Happy Halloween Weekend!!!!
Much has been going on dear reader...stuff I want to share...and stuff I think I'll keep to myself for now. At times in the last few months since my last post, I've thought that I have been going through a crisis...a crisis of conscious? a crisis of identity? a crisis of too many things to do at one time? Perhaps an early mid-life crisis. I've found myself doing some out of character things...and I thought, for a short time, that I was really starting to lose it. I mean really, I've been through the whole "Who Am I?" phase that women in my position suffer from. In fact, I've been through it a few times...and each time, I never push past through to the answer. Why is that? What's stopping me? Am I afraid???? And if I'm afraid....what the hell am I afraid of?
But over the last few weeks, something has been happening in my life that has allowed me to view myself from a different perspective. A good perspective...it's not always a pleasant perspective. And, it's not always a bad perspective. But, it's always an honest perspective. And I appreciate honesty above all else. I'm at a good place in most of my relationships. Now, I need to find a good place in the relationship that means the most....the one with myself!
And now for the growing into me portion of my post....this weekend I went to this fantastic Halloween Party! I wore an awesome costume, flirted with a Scotsman, danced with a middle-age Charlie Brown, kissed a middle aged Lucy, battled a cave woman, sailed away with Captain Jack Sparrow and even found time to get my nose pierced! Yes, I got a nose piercing...I'm 37 years old and dammit...I think they look cool and I wanted one. So, I got one. It hurt like hell when the needle was pushed through...and I think I called the piercer a son of a bitch...but I did something that I wanted to do for me...and didn't care what people thought about it....and you know what...it felt awesome! Perhaps, I'm finally starting to grow into me.
Much has been going on dear reader...stuff I want to share...and stuff I think I'll keep to myself for now. At times in the last few months since my last post, I've thought that I have been going through a crisis...a crisis of conscious? a crisis of identity? a crisis of too many things to do at one time? Perhaps an early mid-life crisis. I've found myself doing some out of character things...and I thought, for a short time, that I was really starting to lose it. I mean really, I've been through the whole "Who Am I?" phase that women in my position suffer from. In fact, I've been through it a few times...and each time, I never push past through to the answer. Why is that? What's stopping me? Am I afraid???? And if I'm afraid....what the hell am I afraid of?
But over the last few weeks, something has been happening in my life that has allowed me to view myself from a different perspective. A good perspective...it's not always a pleasant perspective. And, it's not always a bad perspective. But, it's always an honest perspective. And I appreciate honesty above all else. I'm at a good place in most of my relationships. Now, I need to find a good place in the relationship that means the most....the one with myself!
And now for the growing into me portion of my post....this weekend I went to this fantastic Halloween Party! I wore an awesome costume, flirted with a Scotsman, danced with a middle-age Charlie Brown, kissed a middle aged Lucy, battled a cave woman, sailed away with Captain Jack Sparrow and even found time to get my nose pierced! Yes, I got a nose piercing...I'm 37 years old and dammit...I think they look cool and I wanted one. So, I got one. It hurt like hell when the needle was pushed through...and I think I called the piercer a son of a bitch...but I did something that I wanted to do for me...and didn't care what people thought about it....and you know what...it felt awesome! Perhaps, I'm finally starting to grow into me.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Missed two days....sometimes life explodes around you
I was on a roll..working out, feeling good...taking control. This is my destiny and my journey and I'm the only one who can derail me.
Then, I got the call....."Velma, you need to come home and bring Dad to the hospital, he's got a hernia and he needs surgery." So....I rush home, pick up dad and drive back into Portland. I stayed at the hospital, in his room until 9pm. The doctor told me what they"suspected" was wrong and what the treatment would most likely be. But, because Dad has COPD and a whole host of health problems even the littlest surgeries become big and dangerous. I left the hospital Thursday night fully expecting to return Friday morning with him in surgery.
It's now Saturday, still no surgery. In short....they don't know what is wrong with him! I missed the gym yesterday as I spent 7 hours at the hospital anxiously waiting for results from test after test after test. We've gone from an intestinal blockage, to salmonella poisoning, to a pulled lumbar muscle, to a hernia, to a blockage and now....to who knows what....stressful to say the least.
I haven't been to the gym today either and I really don't want to go. I want quiet reflection and alone time. Perhaps I will go out and sweep the driveway...it's still exercise and good, hard exercise at that....stay tuned dear reader! This will only be a small derailment, I promise.
Then, I got the call....."Velma, you need to come home and bring Dad to the hospital, he's got a hernia and he needs surgery." So....I rush home, pick up dad and drive back into Portland. I stayed at the hospital, in his room until 9pm. The doctor told me what they"suspected" was wrong and what the treatment would most likely be. But, because Dad has COPD and a whole host of health problems even the littlest surgeries become big and dangerous. I left the hospital Thursday night fully expecting to return Friday morning with him in surgery.
It's now Saturday, still no surgery. In short....they don't know what is wrong with him! I missed the gym yesterday as I spent 7 hours at the hospital anxiously waiting for results from test after test after test. We've gone from an intestinal blockage, to salmonella poisoning, to a pulled lumbar muscle, to a hernia, to a blockage and now....to who knows what....stressful to say the least.
I haven't been to the gym today either and I really don't want to go. I want quiet reflection and alone time. Perhaps I will go out and sweep the driveway...it's still exercise and good, hard exercise at that....stay tuned dear reader! This will only be a small derailment, I promise.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Day....I lost count!
OK Dear Reader, I know it's been nearly a week since my last blog. But seriously, I've been busy. OK...maybe not extremely busy, but still. Last Friday was day 10 and my half day at work. I left work and promptly went to the gym even though I didn't want to. It was tough!!! The first 10 minutes were brutal and I considered getting off the treadmill after 15 minutes. Instead, I changed the channel on the television, and got back on the treadmill and finished my 30 minute work out.
The rest of the weekend was my birthday weekend!!! Thirty seven years have gone by since I was born...funny how that seemed old when I was 10. As usual, I spent some of my time reflecting...but the best part of the weekend was the absolutely gorgeous day on Saturday, my birthday! I got to sun, swim, and lounge in the lake. I sat on the porch with loved ones, soaked up some rays and enjoyed some wine. I didn't care what I ate...all I cared is that I enjoyed my day...and I did.
Monday morning came and I couldn't wake up in the morning...so, I didn't go to the gym. BUT, I did bring my gym clothes so that I could stop in after work. Boy was that tough. I was driving home and the sleepies were creeping in. I came to my turnoff and I really, really wanted to keep going. But......I turned and grudgingly went into the gym...and did my full work out. My legs hurt, my arms hurt, my back hurt....but....I felt good!!!
I got home all calmed down and spent. And I slept ok that night. So, this week, I've gone to the gym every day after work. I've concentrated on making good food choices...no matter how difficult, but I'm trying...and that's the important thing.
Last night, I finally broke down and measured myself...not a fun (or easy task) imagine this obese woman trying to wrap a measuring tape around her body and trying to read it! I really should have a web cam following my life. ;-)
The rest of the weekend was my birthday weekend!!! Thirty seven years have gone by since I was born...funny how that seemed old when I was 10. As usual, I spent some of my time reflecting...but the best part of the weekend was the absolutely gorgeous day on Saturday, my birthday! I got to sun, swim, and lounge in the lake. I sat on the porch with loved ones, soaked up some rays and enjoyed some wine. I didn't care what I ate...all I cared is that I enjoyed my day...and I did.
Monday morning came and I couldn't wake up in the morning...so, I didn't go to the gym. BUT, I did bring my gym clothes so that I could stop in after work. Boy was that tough. I was driving home and the sleepies were creeping in. I came to my turnoff and I really, really wanted to keep going. But......I turned and grudgingly went into the gym...and did my full work out. My legs hurt, my arms hurt, my back hurt....but....I felt good!!!
I got home all calmed down and spent. And I slept ok that night. So, this week, I've gone to the gym every day after work. I've concentrated on making good food choices...no matter how difficult, but I'm trying...and that's the important thing.
Last night, I finally broke down and measured myself...not a fun (or easy task) imagine this obese woman trying to wrap a measuring tape around her body and trying to read it! I really should have a web cam following my life. ;-)
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Days 7-9 A Fish (Oil) Tale
Ok, so day 7 I went to the gym...day 8...I didn't...and day 9 (today) I did. Boy, do I have a story for you today, dear reader. And it's all about the effects of fish oil. I was instructed in May to start taking fish oil because of my cholesterol levels...I did take it for awhile, but there was one side effect that I just didn't care for....flatulence! Everyone knows that a lady NEVER toots. So, I stopped taking it.
Along with changing my eating habits and exercising, I decided that I would also do the things that I am supposed to do: take my vitamins, a digestive enzyme (thanks John!) and take my fish oil. Anyone who has ever taken (or is taking) fish oils knows that there are a few undesirable side effects. The only one I feel somewhat comfortable talking about is the flatulence. Over the past few days I've noticed that my backside has a mind of it's own....and at some of the most inconvenient times it tries to have a discussion with me: conference calls, team meetings, walking in the grocery store.....and lately, working out at the gym!
This morning began like any other morning....I got to the gym, stepped upon the treadmill and set it to go. About ten minutes into my walk...my butt starts trying to talk to me again. I was not alone in the women's room this morning...so imagine me walking on the treadmill, clenching my cheeks (and not the ones on my face), walking at a brisk pace. (Bright side, I bet my glutes got a good workout!) This maneuver only lasted about a minute when my butt revolted! With each step, air leaked out. All I could envision was a skit that Larry the Cable Guy did on his grandmother with her walking farts! Luckily, the fans were on and the equipment that we were using were loud. I'm not sure if there was a stench associated with the noise (in my experience the last few days, there was) and thankfully there was no one behind me!
Still, images of passed out people in workout attire (circa Olivia Newton John's "Physical" video) ran rampant through my mind. I had the biggest grin while continuing my treadmill routine. The poor older woman sharing space with me must have wondered. Or maybe, the machines and fans weren't as loud as I thought they were and she knew?
My "noisy" backside continued during my weight workout...my butt firmly pressed into the seats to avoid any notification that my body was revolting on me. Until......the last machine......the ab cruncher machine......last set of 15. The room has grown to three other people besides me. My backside seemed to have calmed down a bit. I got up, got the disinfectant, sprayed the machined and as I wiped it down...without warning......the loudest fart I have EVER made came out of my body! I swear ALL of the machines stopped, even the fans! The three older women turned, simultaneously, and looked at me. And I sheepishly said "Excuse me.....fish oil." With knowing nods, the activity in the room continued! And I laughed my proverbial ass off in the shower!!!
Bottle of Fish Oil....$9.95. Gym Membership....$29.95 Farting Loudly in an echoy room....PRICELESS!
Along with changing my eating habits and exercising, I decided that I would also do the things that I am supposed to do: take my vitamins, a digestive enzyme (thanks John!) and take my fish oil. Anyone who has ever taken (or is taking) fish oils knows that there are a few undesirable side effects. The only one I feel somewhat comfortable talking about is the flatulence. Over the past few days I've noticed that my backside has a mind of it's own....and at some of the most inconvenient times it tries to have a discussion with me: conference calls, team meetings, walking in the grocery store.....and lately, working out at the gym!
This morning began like any other morning....I got to the gym, stepped upon the treadmill and set it to go. About ten minutes into my walk...my butt starts trying to talk to me again. I was not alone in the women's room this morning...so imagine me walking on the treadmill, clenching my cheeks (and not the ones on my face), walking at a brisk pace. (Bright side, I bet my glutes got a good workout!) This maneuver only lasted about a minute when my butt revolted! With each step, air leaked out. All I could envision was a skit that Larry the Cable Guy did on his grandmother with her walking farts! Luckily, the fans were on and the equipment that we were using were loud. I'm not sure if there was a stench associated with the noise (in my experience the last few days, there was) and thankfully there was no one behind me!
Still, images of passed out people in workout attire (circa Olivia Newton John's "Physical" video) ran rampant through my mind. I had the biggest grin while continuing my treadmill routine. The poor older woman sharing space with me must have wondered. Or maybe, the machines and fans weren't as loud as I thought they were and she knew?
My "noisy" backside continued during my weight workout...my butt firmly pressed into the seats to avoid any notification that my body was revolting on me. Until......the last machine......the ab cruncher machine......last set of 15. The room has grown to three other people besides me. My backside seemed to have calmed down a bit. I got up, got the disinfectant, sprayed the machined and as I wiped it down...without warning......the loudest fart I have EVER made came out of my body! I swear ALL of the machines stopped, even the fans! The three older women turned, simultaneously, and looked at me. And I sheepishly said "Excuse me.....fish oil." With knowing nods, the activity in the room continued! And I laughed my proverbial ass off in the shower!!!
Bottle of Fish Oil....$9.95. Gym Membership....$29.95 Farting Loudly in an echoy room....PRICELESS!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Day 6....Not Weighing In
Today was Day 6, and last night was a very horrible night for sleeping. It was hot, muggy, and miserable. I was riddled with bad, horribly bad, dreams. I kept feeling like someone was in my room watching me. My alarm went off at 6am and I was equal parts relieved and devastated. I wanted to sleep...just sleep. But, I got up anyway. I stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready. And off I went, work bag, gym bag and lunch bag in hand.
I had the Women's room all to myself this morning. My thighs are still aching from my workout on Saturday...but I did it. I was a bit slower on my treadmill walk than I had wanted to be, but I got a good workout nonetheless. The weights didn't get easier and there are a few I'd like to burn in effigy. But alas, I've survived...it was a week ago this evening that I joined this gym and got that 260lb shock!
Out of curiosity, I stepped on that same scale today and it said that I gained almost 3 pounds!! Now, I was wearing my sneakers this morning, so I'm going to account for some of that weight being my sneakers...but moral of the story..I am NOT weighing myself again until the date circled on my calendar.
Tonight I will measure myself and track inches lost as well.
I had the Women's room all to myself this morning. My thighs are still aching from my workout on Saturday...but I did it. I was a bit slower on my treadmill walk than I had wanted to be, but I got a good workout nonetheless. The weights didn't get easier and there are a few I'd like to burn in effigy. But alas, I've survived...it was a week ago this evening that I joined this gym and got that 260lb shock!
Out of curiosity, I stepped on that same scale today and it said that I gained almost 3 pounds!! Now, I was wearing my sneakers this morning, so I'm going to account for some of that weight being my sneakers...but moral of the story..I am NOT weighing myself again until the date circled on my calendar.
Tonight I will measure myself and track inches lost as well.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Slips Ups and Make Ups
So, I didn't blog about Day 4 yesterday...I had an early morning appointment for my foot, a sort of follow up to my ankle surgery in November. The good news is that my ankle has healed very nicely...the bad news is that I'm getting tendonitis on the inside of my foot now...so, ibuprofen regiment for the next two weeks and if that doesn't help...I might have to get orthotics.
Now, I'm a fairly patient woman...although some may disagree with that statement. But when driving in traffic...I've always been the "go to" person because of my cool disposition...not lately however. I'm stuck in Portland traffic leaving the office to head home. But yesterday, I said that I was going to work out at the gym on my way home...and I did. The workout was great. I was feeling good...had calmed down from my aggravating ride from the office to the gym.
The gym is less than two miles from my home...it took me almost half an hour to get home! By the time I got home I was so aggravated and I slipped into an old habit. (Rather, a habit I'm hoping to make old.) I got a glass of wine. Doesn't sound bad, right? The bad part comes in that I truly, truly like wine. And I have no self-control when it comes to wine. Once I open a bottle...I will finish it and open another. It's not something I'm entirely proud of...and it's something I've been consciously trying to change...last night...I drank a bottle of wine.
Today, I went for Day 5 at the gym. I didn't fail last night. This isn't about failing...this is about changing myself for the better. So, dear reader...today is a new day. And I'm feeling good about myself.
Now, I'm a fairly patient woman...although some may disagree with that statement. But when driving in traffic...I've always been the "go to" person because of my cool disposition...not lately however. I'm stuck in Portland traffic leaving the office to head home. But yesterday, I said that I was going to work out at the gym on my way home...and I did. The workout was great. I was feeling good...had calmed down from my aggravating ride from the office to the gym.
The gym is less than two miles from my home...it took me almost half an hour to get home! By the time I got home I was so aggravated and I slipped into an old habit. (Rather, a habit I'm hoping to make old.) I got a glass of wine. Doesn't sound bad, right? The bad part comes in that I truly, truly like wine. And I have no self-control when it comes to wine. Once I open a bottle...I will finish it and open another. It's not something I'm entirely proud of...and it's something I've been consciously trying to change...last night...I drank a bottle of wine.
Today, I went for Day 5 at the gym. I didn't fail last night. This isn't about failing...this is about changing myself for the better. So, dear reader...today is a new day. And I'm feeling good about myself.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Day 3 Tiredness
So, I did make it to the gym this morning. Last night, I got my weight training orientation, did one circuit on those fancy machines and went home. This morning, the usual routine, made it to the gym...a little earlier this morning because I really wanted to do one more circuit. That work out is pretty intense...this morning I inadvertantly choose "hills" on the treadmill...but once I noticed it, I stayed committed...I actually liked it better than endurance, I might switch them off each day.
I took my morning shower in the cramped shower stall...dried off, and when I went to get dresse, I noticed that I left my "good" bra home! Resigned to my fate, I put the old sweaty bra on (there was just no time to go home, get the good bra AND make it to work on time.) Yes folks, I'm at work with an old sweaty bra. However, I'm grateful that it was the bra that I forgot and not the panties...NOW that would have been GROSS!
I'm thinking about taking tomorrow off...I'm a bit sluggish today and I'm feeling some muscle fatigue. I do have an early morning doctor's appointment so going to the gym in the morning will be a bit difficult. My current plan is to pack my bag with my gym clothes (instead of work clothes) and if I'm feeling good after work tomorrow, I'll stop in at the gym.
So, dear reader...day 3 and I'm still committed...now, if I could just come up with a better eating plan!
I took my morning shower in the cramped shower stall...dried off, and when I went to get dresse, I noticed that I left my "good" bra home! Resigned to my fate, I put the old sweaty bra on (there was just no time to go home, get the good bra AND make it to work on time.) Yes folks, I'm at work with an old sweaty bra. However, I'm grateful that it was the bra that I forgot and not the panties...NOW that would have been GROSS!
I'm thinking about taking tomorrow off...I'm a bit sluggish today and I'm feeling some muscle fatigue. I do have an early morning doctor's appointment so going to the gym in the morning will be a bit difficult. My current plan is to pack my bag with my gym clothes (instead of work clothes) and if I'm feeling good after work tomorrow, I'll stop in at the gym.
So, dear reader...day 3 and I'm still committed...now, if I could just come up with a better eating plan!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Endurance....
So, the alarm goes off at 6am again this morning...my mom calls around 6:25am to remind me to go to the gym. I really did not want to get out of bed....I have very restless nights and sleep is a commodity that I have little of...but, I got out of bed. Brushed my hair, brushed my teeth and put on my work out close...out the door by 6:50am...at the gym by 6:55am and on the treadmill at 7:00am.
Today, I choose the Endurance Level 1, 30 minute excursion. I read the Today show...thanks to closed captioning. And just went for my walk. This time, it was just challenging enough for me to have to work, but not show challenging that I hated it! I think I'll stick with this program for at least the next week...a good way to re-introduce myself to the land of the moving. Tonight, I get to meet my trainer and get my weight training orientation. I'm thinking that I want to focus on my core muscles...this may help with some back pain that I've been experiencing and then I might begin to sleep a little better.
Endurance....I'm not sure if that's a good adjective for my morning treadmill program....or my morning wake up call. Maybe both...but not too sound too much like a cliche...this time just FEELS different to me.
Today, I choose the Endurance Level 1, 30 minute excursion. I read the Today show...thanks to closed captioning. And just went for my walk. This time, it was just challenging enough for me to have to work, but not show challenging that I hated it! I think I'll stick with this program for at least the next week...a good way to re-introduce myself to the land of the moving. Tonight, I get to meet my trainer and get my weight training orientation. I'm thinking that I want to focus on my core muscles...this may help with some back pain that I've been experiencing and then I might begin to sleep a little better.
Endurance....I'm not sure if that's a good adjective for my morning treadmill program....or my morning wake up call. Maybe both...but not too sound too much like a cliche...this time just FEELS different to me.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Day 1----No turning back now
My alarm promptly goes off at 6am this morning, alerting me to the task that I've assigned for myself....my first trip to the gym. Now, I'm not sure how many of you reading this REALLY know me...but you'll know that I'm neither a night OR a morning person. That being said, I'd rather suffer through waking up early than staying up late...I can't handle many late nights...I hit my wall, as my husband refers to it, and will sleep where standing! So, 6am...my mom says she's going to call too....6:05, 6:10 (alarm goes off again), mind you I'm awake, I'm just not moving.
6:20 my alarm goes off...a way to deflect the task ahead is to ask my husband "Wanna do it?" Of course, he struggles with that answer. But knowing that I'm having issues with my self-esteem, body image, etc...he politely refuses and tells me to go to the gym.
I get to the gym around 6:45. I'm dressed and ready to work out. I have my "shower equipment" and work clothes neatly packed in a bag...almost like an overnight visit with a new friend. There are no more than a dozen cars in the parking lot. In the "main workout room" there are four older gentlemen (60-70's) working on the cardio equipment. Downstairs in the "Women's Only" workout room, there are 3 women...I can do this...I can handle this.
I set the treadmill for 25 minutes thinking it's going to kill me...but the end result will be worth it. That first 25 minutes went by so quickly, I wanted to do more....alas, I had to shower my sweaty ass and get to work....
The shower is a whole other story of cramped spaces, and forgotten flip flops!
But, I did it! I went and survived Day 1....tomorrow...Day 2 and more time on the treadmill...then tomorrow night, my first appointment with my trainer.
6:20 my alarm goes off...a way to deflect the task ahead is to ask my husband "Wanna do it?" Of course, he struggles with that answer. But knowing that I'm having issues with my self-esteem, body image, etc...he politely refuses and tells me to go to the gym.
I get to the gym around 6:45. I'm dressed and ready to work out. I have my "shower equipment" and work clothes neatly packed in a bag...almost like an overnight visit with a new friend. There are no more than a dozen cars in the parking lot. In the "main workout room" there are four older gentlemen (60-70's) working on the cardio equipment. Downstairs in the "Women's Only" workout room, there are 3 women...I can do this...I can handle this.
I set the treadmill for 25 minutes thinking it's going to kill me...but the end result will be worth it. That first 25 minutes went by so quickly, I wanted to do more....alas, I had to shower my sweaty ass and get to work....
The shower is a whole other story of cramped spaces, and forgotten flip flops!
But, I did it! I went and survived Day 1....tomorrow...Day 2 and more time on the treadmill...then tomorrow night, my first appointment with my trainer.
Monday, July 20, 2009
A new journey
My bathing suit is dying...the threads are coming loose and you can pull pieces of elastic out of it in various places. It's a cute skirted, black bathing suit that has gotten me a lot of compliments in the last 8 years that I've had it. But as with most things....it's time is waning. So, I trekked off to a few places to "bathing suit shop."
Now, most women....no matter their size...do NOT like to bathing suit shop. The reasons are very clear...dressing room mirrors are made to make you appear unflattering. Your legs bulge, your stomach sticks out, your boobs sag...it's just a horrible, horrible experience for most women! For me, it's worse than most...I found a cute bathing suit on sale for $20. I take two different sizes a 2X and a 3X, knowing that there's no way the 3X is going to fit, it's going to be too big. Boy was I wrong!!! Not only was it not too big, but it was very, very snug. My legs looked like 50 pounds of flabby, cottage cheese. My thighs didn't separate. I was absolutely mortified at myself. How? When? Why?
And finally...NO MORE!!! I cannot live the rest of my life this size. I cannot be that old woman with the huge ass sticking out, with calf's the size of normal thighs...I can't do it. I won't do it. I HAVE to change it. And, I'm the only one that can!
Introducing 21st Century Family Fitness. $49 sign up fee....$29.95/month...if in the first four months I lose 30 pounds....my membership is free....for LIFE. Talk about double motivation...lose weight AND save money!! This place is not only talking to my vanity but my wallet!
So, folks....here's the transparency of my journey...today, I'm 260lbs. My current goal is to be 230lbs by November 20, 2009! Wish me luck!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
What I didn't say to the Board of Ed...
*I know blogs can get tedious and people lose focus reading them after a few paragraphs....I'm guilty myself...but PLEASE keep reading....***
Tonight, on my way home from work, I was struck by a reason why our local school department should NOT cut the middle school program. I mean, I had reasons, but none that I thought wouldn't be vocalized by a million other parents...after all, there is even a facebook page. But tonight, on my way home, I realized what impact middle school band had on my life...and I wanted to make sure that opportunity was available to other kids. So, I got home, started writing my speech, realized I had to leave. Wrote more of the speech at each red light (I really hope I get that many green lights on my way to work tomorrow!) And go to town hall....where there was hardly any parking.
I trek up the hill on the newly repaired, unsecured, ankle and enter the building only to find I was not the only one with this idea....there were easily over 100 people there. I took a seat in the overflow room and did what I do best....I observed the people around me. Nods, glances, clenched jaws....all told where each person stood on the current topic. And then, the topic of the music program came up. I listened to some testimonials. I heard statistics. But, I didn't see any adult talk about how music affected who THEY became....so, I got up to go to the second floor to stand in line....and what a line! It rivaled lines I've seen at public hearings in Augusta (Maine capitol for my non-Maine friends.) I waited and waited....then one young man, I didn't catch his name, spoke about how music has affected him...given him a safe place. He walked out of the room, struggling to hold back his tears and I knew that I didn't need to speak. So, I left and made my way home...where I sit now. But I still want to share what I had planned on saying.
What I didn't say:
Good Evening, let me begin by saying 19 months ago, I sat on your side of the table in a small town of 11,000 people. We had no commercial tax base to speak of and a 41 mil rate. I know the job you have before you is very difficult.
Now, I want to tell you about a little girl that I once knew. She came from an unusual dysfunctional home with a suicidal mother and a father that lacked certain mothering abilities. So, she took over in places where her mother couldn't provide: housecleaning, child care provider and disciplinarian for her two younger brothers, chief cook and bottle washer. At the beginning of 6th grade, her local high school band came and played at her elementary school. She was enamored by the flutes. They were shiny, melodical and she knew she had to have one. Her parents told her that they could never afford a musical instrument. Not to be deterred, she approached her teacher and begged: Was there anyway at all she could get a flute? The teacher, knowing that life wasn't easy for the little girl, promised to look into it.
A few days later, the little girl got called to the office. And, there to greet her was the middle school band teacher (Mrs. Crawford, now Mrs. Cutler) and she was holding a small, black, square case. What this her flute??? Close enough, Mrs. Cutler happened to have a clarinet that was left at the middle school in years prior.
And on that day, an incredible journey began for her. She practiced daily, losing herself in the music. In seventh grade, she joined the middle school band, giving up other applied arts to feed into her hobby. She attempted (with some success) the bass clarinet, french horn, saxophone. And from it all, she gaind a sense of safety, solace and most importantly, normalcy. In band, she was just like everyone else.
She carried this forward to high school. Quickly excelling at her craft. She continued to use her band director (now, Mr. Neal) as a source of support, comfort and knowledge. Knowledge of what a better life looks like. Knowledge that anyone can overcome their obstacles, even her. She grew confidencec and compassion.
This young girl stands before you twenty four years later. She's only the second person in her family to get a college degree. She's one of the first to break into the middle class tax bracket. She's the mother of a whole, unbroken, family unit, with a blessedly normal life. And if you asked her what helped her get there, she'd tell you two things: I surrounded myself with good people with high standards. And, I lost myself in music to forget my surroundings.
I'm not here for my son who's in the seventh grade band. If band is moved to a before or after school program....we'll find a way to get him there. He'll get that experience...cause it's important. I'm here for that young girl/boy who's living the life that I led. If you make band an after school activity, this child will lose an important, life changing opportunity. I know your job is hard. I know you want to affect as few students as possible. But sometimes, you have to look at quality over quantity. This change that affects so few students may have an adverse, life-altering affect on them.
Tonight, on my way home from work, I was struck by a reason why our local school department should NOT cut the middle school program. I mean, I had reasons, but none that I thought wouldn't be vocalized by a million other parents...after all, there is even a facebook page. But tonight, on my way home, I realized what impact middle school band had on my life...and I wanted to make sure that opportunity was available to other kids. So, I got home, started writing my speech, realized I had to leave. Wrote more of the speech at each red light (I really hope I get that many green lights on my way to work tomorrow!) And go to town hall....where there was hardly any parking.
I trek up the hill on the newly repaired, unsecured, ankle and enter the building only to find I was not the only one with this idea....there were easily over 100 people there. I took a seat in the overflow room and did what I do best....I observed the people around me. Nods, glances, clenched jaws....all told where each person stood on the current topic. And then, the topic of the music program came up. I listened to some testimonials. I heard statistics. But, I didn't see any adult talk about how music affected who THEY became....so, I got up to go to the second floor to stand in line....and what a line! It rivaled lines I've seen at public hearings in Augusta (Maine capitol for my non-Maine friends.) I waited and waited....then one young man, I didn't catch his name, spoke about how music has affected him...given him a safe place. He walked out of the room, struggling to hold back his tears and I knew that I didn't need to speak. So, I left and made my way home...where I sit now. But I still want to share what I had planned on saying.
What I didn't say:
Good Evening, let me begin by saying 19 months ago, I sat on your side of the table in a small town of 11,000 people. We had no commercial tax base to speak of and a 41 mil rate. I know the job you have before you is very difficult.
Now, I want to tell you about a little girl that I once knew. She came from an unusual dysfunctional home with a suicidal mother and a father that lacked certain mothering abilities. So, she took over in places where her mother couldn't provide: housecleaning, child care provider and disciplinarian for her two younger brothers, chief cook and bottle washer. At the beginning of 6th grade, her local high school band came and played at her elementary school. She was enamored by the flutes. They were shiny, melodical and she knew she had to have one. Her parents told her that they could never afford a musical instrument. Not to be deterred, she approached her teacher and begged: Was there anyway at all she could get a flute? The teacher, knowing that life wasn't easy for the little girl, promised to look into it.
A few days later, the little girl got called to the office. And, there to greet her was the middle school band teacher (Mrs. Crawford, now Mrs. Cutler) and she was holding a small, black, square case. What this her flute??? Close enough, Mrs. Cutler happened to have a clarinet that was left at the middle school in years prior.
And on that day, an incredible journey began for her. She practiced daily, losing herself in the music. In seventh grade, she joined the middle school band, giving up other applied arts to feed into her hobby. She attempted (with some success) the bass clarinet, french horn, saxophone. And from it all, she gaind a sense of safety, solace and most importantly, normalcy. In band, she was just like everyone else.
She carried this forward to high school. Quickly excelling at her craft. She continued to use her band director (now, Mr. Neal) as a source of support, comfort and knowledge. Knowledge of what a better life looks like. Knowledge that anyone can overcome their obstacles, even her. She grew confidencec and compassion.
This young girl stands before you twenty four years later. She's only the second person in her family to get a college degree. She's one of the first to break into the middle class tax bracket. She's the mother of a whole, unbroken, family unit, with a blessedly normal life. And if you asked her what helped her get there, she'd tell you two things: I surrounded myself with good people with high standards. And, I lost myself in music to forget my surroundings.
I'm not here for my son who's in the seventh grade band. If band is moved to a before or after school program....we'll find a way to get him there. He'll get that experience...cause it's important. I'm here for that young girl/boy who's living the life that I led. If you make band an after school activity, this child will lose an important, life changing opportunity. I know your job is hard. I know you want to affect as few students as possible. But sometimes, you have to look at quality over quantity. This change that affects so few students may have an adverse, life-altering affect on them.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Lifelong Friendships
Everyday on my way to work, on the outskirts of Portland, I approach a school zone. (One of two.) The cars ahead of me slowly decrease their speed to the posted 15 mph. This gives me a chance to check my surroundings out a bit....maybe change the CD if I'm not digging the music. Usually, I'm listening to MPR (Maine Public Radio for those who don't know.) I'm a self-described news junkie....and if I'm going to listen to radio personalities talk, or overplayed radio commercials....then I'm going to listen to something worth paying attention to. Anyway, this is all besides the point, I'm getting to.
Every day, I see these two young boys...maybe 4th grade...walking on the icy sidewalk, under the heavy burden of their school books, lunch and whatever else mom deems necessary for their day at school. Being March in Maine, it's still pretty cold....they're bundled up in their snow pants, winter coats, knits caps with bobbing pompoms on top, mittens/gloves....almost like Ralphie's little brother in "A Christmas Story." Each cold morning, they are sparing with random tree debris from the many storms that we've had this season....and trust me...there are LOTS to choose from. I never see their faces close enough to be able to spot them in the mall (probably a good thing...mom might think I'm a stalker.) To the untrained eye, they are actually pretty good at sparing. and every morning, it's a different set of discarded tree branches...some birch, some pine and on the rare occassion some maple.
They are probably forced to dispose of their armor before entering school premises....after all, fighting and role playing of that sort are no longer allowed on the playground. But this morning, I let my mind wander with these two boys and I've decided that they continue to grow closer and stay best friends their entire lives. They experience their coming of age (thanks Mid!!!) together much like the four boys in "Stand By Me." In high school, they get crushes on the same girls, spend long nights talking about how they are going to take over the world. Throughout college, they continue on their life's journey giving each other the support that each other can give. They have children around the same age; wives that become fast friends. And their lives will always, only be complete with each other in it.
Every day, I see these two young boys...maybe 4th grade...walking on the icy sidewalk, under the heavy burden of their school books, lunch and whatever else mom deems necessary for their day at school. Being March in Maine, it's still pretty cold....they're bundled up in their snow pants, winter coats, knits caps with bobbing pompoms on top, mittens/gloves....almost like Ralphie's little brother in "A Christmas Story." Each cold morning, they are sparing with random tree debris from the many storms that we've had this season....and trust me...there are LOTS to choose from. I never see their faces close enough to be able to spot them in the mall (probably a good thing...mom might think I'm a stalker.) To the untrained eye, they are actually pretty good at sparing. and every morning, it's a different set of discarded tree branches...some birch, some pine and on the rare occassion some maple.
They are probably forced to dispose of their armor before entering school premises....after all, fighting and role playing of that sort are no longer allowed on the playground. But this morning, I let my mind wander with these two boys and I've decided that they continue to grow closer and stay best friends their entire lives. They experience their coming of age (thanks Mid!!!) together much like the four boys in "Stand By Me." In high school, they get crushes on the same girls, spend long nights talking about how they are going to take over the world. Throughout college, they continue on their life's journey giving each other the support that each other can give. They have children around the same age; wives that become fast friends. And their lives will always, only be complete with each other in it.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Sisters United
There I sat in a blue patterned, winged back chair, book in hand ("From a Buick 8," by Stephen King) awaiting my "clear to go" from my most recent mammogram. My breasts were a bit tender from the from the pulling and squishing, despite the ibuprofen I took an hour before.
It dawned on me that myself and the five other women "patiently" waiting were in our own weird form of a reality show. The woman to my left could be my grandmother, knitting what looked like a scarf. To her left was "the career woman," constantly checking her voice mail, sending text messages. To her left was the soccer mom having her first mammogram and making nervous small talk. To soccer mom's left, and across the small room, was the stylish late 30's/early 40's young woman obviously feeling the inconvenience of where she is at. And finally, to the left of runway girl, was a woman who could be my aunt, with worry written all over her body. We were all waiting for preliminary results. Anxiously awaiting to find out if we need more testing. Not one of us wants to be pulled back into that room with the albatross they call a "machine." This usually means that the Radiologist found something not quite right with our mammogram.
My book forgotten, used as a writing table for my current reflection; the news playing on the television beside me. Each woman occupying herself in her own, personal unique way: knitting, reading, texting, television watching. We all appear calm, but a trained observer can note the nervousness hidden in each of the women: foot tapping, clenching jaws, cautious looks at THE DOOR. And I find that we're all sisters united and divided all at the same time. No one wants to talk about why we are here...some are routine, some are to explore newly found lumps. Yet, as women we are comforted by the company of each other and the small talk that women are prone to make in most situations.
Remember, Breast Health is very important. I was called into the room only to find out that my images from last year were not readily available. Six hours later, I'm still waiting to hear if I'm ok. Ladies, check your breasts monthly, and get your routine mammograms....they could save your life.
It dawned on me that myself and the five other women "patiently" waiting were in our own weird form of a reality show. The woman to my left could be my grandmother, knitting what looked like a scarf. To her left was "the career woman," constantly checking her voice mail, sending text messages. To her left was the soccer mom having her first mammogram and making nervous small talk. To soccer mom's left, and across the small room, was the stylish late 30's/early 40's young woman obviously feeling the inconvenience of where she is at. And finally, to the left of runway girl, was a woman who could be my aunt, with worry written all over her body. We were all waiting for preliminary results. Anxiously awaiting to find out if we need more testing. Not one of us wants to be pulled back into that room with the albatross they call a "machine." This usually means that the Radiologist found something not quite right with our mammogram.
My book forgotten, used as a writing table for my current reflection; the news playing on the television beside me. Each woman occupying herself in her own, personal unique way: knitting, reading, texting, television watching. We all appear calm, but a trained observer can note the nervousness hidden in each of the women: foot tapping, clenching jaws, cautious looks at THE DOOR. And I find that we're all sisters united and divided all at the same time. No one wants to talk about why we are here...some are routine, some are to explore newly found lumps. Yet, as women we are comforted by the company of each other and the small talk that women are prone to make in most situations.
Remember, Breast Health is very important. I was called into the room only to find out that my images from last year were not readily available. Six hours later, I'm still waiting to hear if I'm ok. Ladies, check your breasts monthly, and get your routine mammograms....they could save your life.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Written in the Stars?
According to dictionary.com the definition of fate is: the universal principle or ultimate agency by which the order of things is presumably prescribed; the decreed cause of events; time. And karma: the cosmic principle according to which each person is rewarded or punished in one incarnation according to that person's deeds in the previous incarnation. Karma also references fate. Can you believe in them both? For instance, should I believe that it is simply my fate to have lived the life that I have so far. Or did something happen in my past life that predestines that I will have this road to follow? Or maybe it's both....maybe in my past life I did something so horrible that I am fated to live this life full of obstacles and bad luck......at times, it makes my head spin.
Last night, I was trying, in vain, to see the Comet Lulin. I was never good at astronomy and am not sure how I got a B in it in college. I can find the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, but little else. My husband, the loving man that he is, humored me and would walk outside to the snow covered, ice encrusted driveway and look up at the heavens with me. We'd look to where I thought ESE is in the sky...searching valiantly for Saturn and Regulus. The temperature dipped into the teens and single digits, and still we'd be standing in the driveway all bundled up looking for the green comet. Each time, I'd resolve to go back onto the computer, consult a geek friend (not to worry, Mid is a self-described geek) and look at star charts on the internet trying to find a reference point.
On our third trip outside, Kip found Orion's belt! Finally, I had a reference point! Back into the warm house we trekked. Back to the computer. OK, if we locate Orion's Belt and I track the stars this way, I should see the constellation Leo....the symbol of my zodiac. Regulus is the front paw of Leo. Saturn can loosely be described as the back paw. And if you draw a somewhat straight line between the two, you should be able to see Comet Lulin.
So, out we go....one more time...into the cold, cold air to look again. Orion's belt, look back towards my neighbors house and slowly, I can actually see Leo!!! For the first time in my life, I can see Leo!!! For the first time in my life, I found a constellation! There was a small, non-descript "star" where the comet should have been, but it was not clear if it was Lulin.
As we walk back inside, my husband notes how he sometimes really enjoys my childlike exuberance and determination. That thought followed me through my evening and slumber. And today, it's a little bit clearer. What's going on in my life might be written in the stars, it might be fated and it just might be karma, but whatever it is, it's mine. And I need to take that determination and exuberance, match it with my rock solid support from my husband and family...and I need to overcome whatever is thrown at me! I'm not alone in this struggle. It's not just me dealing with all of this.
Even though, I sometimes feel like I'm the only one in the world and that I'm on the outside looking in.....I'm really not. And for that, I'm extremely grateful.
Last night, I was trying, in vain, to see the Comet Lulin. I was never good at astronomy and am not sure how I got a B in it in college. I can find the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, but little else. My husband, the loving man that he is, humored me and would walk outside to the snow covered, ice encrusted driveway and look up at the heavens with me. We'd look to where I thought ESE is in the sky...searching valiantly for Saturn and Regulus. The temperature dipped into the teens and single digits, and still we'd be standing in the driveway all bundled up looking for the green comet. Each time, I'd resolve to go back onto the computer, consult a geek friend (not to worry, Mid is a self-described geek) and look at star charts on the internet trying to find a reference point.
On our third trip outside, Kip found Orion's belt! Finally, I had a reference point! Back into the warm house we trekked. Back to the computer. OK, if we locate Orion's Belt and I track the stars this way, I should see the constellation Leo....the symbol of my zodiac. Regulus is the front paw of Leo. Saturn can loosely be described as the back paw. And if you draw a somewhat straight line between the two, you should be able to see Comet Lulin.
So, out we go....one more time...into the cold, cold air to look again. Orion's belt, look back towards my neighbors house and slowly, I can actually see Leo!!! For the first time in my life, I can see Leo!!! For the first time in my life, I found a constellation! There was a small, non-descript "star" where the comet should have been, but it was not clear if it was Lulin.
As we walk back inside, my husband notes how he sometimes really enjoys my childlike exuberance and determination. That thought followed me through my evening and slumber. And today, it's a little bit clearer. What's going on in my life might be written in the stars, it might be fated and it just might be karma, but whatever it is, it's mine. And I need to take that determination and exuberance, match it with my rock solid support from my husband and family...and I need to overcome whatever is thrown at me! I'm not alone in this struggle. It's not just me dealing with all of this.
Even though, I sometimes feel like I'm the only one in the world and that I'm on the outside looking in.....I'm really not. And for that, I'm extremely grateful.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The first gay man I ever met.
My uncle, Ovilia Mitchell Jr., died today. Uncle Mitch (wouldn't you want a nickname?) was suffering from Alzheimer's for the last four years and died alone in Hartford, Connecticut. He was the oldest of eleven children, my father being the "middle" child. He was predeceased by his father and a younger brother, Robert, who died in Vietnam. My grandmother has now had to bury her son, her husband and another son.
Uncle Mitch was the first gay person I've ever met. Not being extremely close with my father's side of the family, my first memory of Uncle Mitch occurs around 25 or so years ago. I was attending a baby shower for my cousin Elaine (my dad's oldest sister's daughter) with my mom. Some of the men were in the bar of the Bristol Club while the "womenfolk" fawned over pastel pinks, blues, yellows and greens. I remember "admission" to the shower was jars of baby food. My cousin Kathy and I were marveling at the amount Elaine had gotten. Kathy and I were close even though we lived hundreds of miles away from each other.
We ran out behind the club to where there was a barbeque pit and my Uncle Mitch was there. I'm not sure if he recently came out of the closet or if this was old news to the family. All I knew is that Uncle Mitch had someone who used to be his wife and his daughter Dawn. I'm not clear on the exact wording that was used, but the gist of the conversation between Uncle Mitch and some of the male family members was that he would be going in to join the baby shower and it was most definitely ok because he was gay.
I thought gay was happy and wondered why the other men weren't happy that Elaine was having a baby. Babies were great! I was a rather rude, impertinent child who never shyed away from asking the questions that popped into her head. I asked Uncle Mitch what made his gayness so special and why he was the only one happy. All this time later, I think that he was rather offended by my question but explained that he didn't like girls, he liked boys. And, if I wanted to know more about it, I'd have to ask my parents.
Yah, this cleared it up for me. He didn't like girls, but he was going to go inside where ALL the girls were??!?!?!?!?! Eventually, my parents delicately explained what it meant to be gay. I understood it the best that I could. For now on, at all the "girl parties" my Uncle Mitch would be there. And that was cool with me....he always had candy in his shirt pocket!
As I grew up, we drifted apart from my father's side of the family even further. Christmas, Wedding and Funerals were when I'd see them....until Uncle Mitch and Freddie moved from Florida to Rhode Island. Uncle Mitch threw the coolest parties, gave the biggest hugs and loved life to it's fullest. Freddie died about 10 years ago from AIDS....and Uncle Mitch died alone. My father is devastated by his loss and I sit here full of sorrow for watching my dad deal with this.
I believe, to this day, that I have never discriminated against the Gay-Lesbian community because of my Uncle Mitch. He paved the way for an open conversation and full acceptance....and that from a Roman Catholic family!!! I only regret that I didn't go and visit him more and that my father won't get a "proper" good bye for his oldest brother.
Uncle Mitch was the first gay person I've ever met. Not being extremely close with my father's side of the family, my first memory of Uncle Mitch occurs around 25 or so years ago. I was attending a baby shower for my cousin Elaine (my dad's oldest sister's daughter) with my mom. Some of the men were in the bar of the Bristol Club while the "womenfolk" fawned over pastel pinks, blues, yellows and greens. I remember "admission" to the shower was jars of baby food. My cousin Kathy and I were marveling at the amount Elaine had gotten. Kathy and I were close even though we lived hundreds of miles away from each other.
We ran out behind the club to where there was a barbeque pit and my Uncle Mitch was there. I'm not sure if he recently came out of the closet or if this was old news to the family. All I knew is that Uncle Mitch had someone who used to be his wife and his daughter Dawn. I'm not clear on the exact wording that was used, but the gist of the conversation between Uncle Mitch and some of the male family members was that he would be going in to join the baby shower and it was most definitely ok because he was gay.
I thought gay was happy and wondered why the other men weren't happy that Elaine was having a baby. Babies were great! I was a rather rude, impertinent child who never shyed away from asking the questions that popped into her head. I asked Uncle Mitch what made his gayness so special and why he was the only one happy. All this time later, I think that he was rather offended by my question but explained that he didn't like girls, he liked boys. And, if I wanted to know more about it, I'd have to ask my parents.
Yah, this cleared it up for me. He didn't like girls, but he was going to go inside where ALL the girls were??!?!?!?!?! Eventually, my parents delicately explained what it meant to be gay. I understood it the best that I could. For now on, at all the "girl parties" my Uncle Mitch would be there. And that was cool with me....he always had candy in his shirt pocket!
As I grew up, we drifted apart from my father's side of the family even further. Christmas, Wedding and Funerals were when I'd see them....until Uncle Mitch and Freddie moved from Florida to Rhode Island. Uncle Mitch threw the coolest parties, gave the biggest hugs and loved life to it's fullest. Freddie died about 10 years ago from AIDS....and Uncle Mitch died alone. My father is devastated by his loss and I sit here full of sorrow for watching my dad deal with this.
I believe, to this day, that I have never discriminated against the Gay-Lesbian community because of my Uncle Mitch. He paved the way for an open conversation and full acceptance....and that from a Roman Catholic family!!! I only regret that I didn't go and visit him more and that my father won't get a "proper" good bye for his oldest brother.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Bankers
My husband and I are certainly no one to lecture about the importance of managing your money. We, ourselves, didn't have very good role models. I spent my entire childhood watching my parents juggle money only to run out and have the phone shut off, oil run out of the tank, electricity off for a week at a time. My husband's parents, clearly middle class, managed their money extremely well but didn't pass this knowledge on to their son. You see, they NEVER talked money and finances with him.
Yet, they were quick to give him the boot after high school graduation. From there he entered the United States Navy. Never known for being babysitters, the US Navy gave him money and he had no idea what to do with it!! Me, coming from less than humble beginnings...spent my money on the things I wanted when I wanted. It wasn't long into our marriage that we found ourselves in a lot of financial trouble that took us YEARS to get out of. Our credit score was still lacking but we were able to get financing for a home in Connecticut.
My father, suffering from COPD and emphysema, came down seriously ill and was in ICU for several weeks. With young children, I was relying on him to ensure that they safely came home from school and stayed safe. This couldn't happen when he was in the hospital. I asked my employer to grant me a sift in hours for the next few weeks to ensure the safety of my children. This was not allowed and I was unceremoniously let go...forced to choose between my family and my job! But, that is a different blog all together.
What followed was several months of unemployment. My husband was just starting out in the automotive technician field and his pay was less than cellar. Working with Option One Mortgage company was no picnic. They refused partial payments, in fact, they sent back payments that were not made in full. The refused to help us every step of the way. Of course, I don't think I ever spoke with an english speaking service representative.
Months of fighting the mortgage company, foreclosure notices and each other, we finally gave up and became one of the first Sub-Prime Mortgage Victims. Now, I don't place the entire blame on Option One...but they do own some of it. The point is....we couldn't handle our finances and now can't get financed for a slice of bread.
So why......why are those in "charge" at these banks getting a bailout and keeping their jobs. Why are their "grunt" workers being laid off while they continue to receive exhorbant incomes, bonsues and perks??? How has this bailout helped Main Street America? Small businesses all over America are closing because their lines of credit aren't being renewed...but hey James Dimon, Henry Meyer, Richard Fairbank and the TONS of other overpaid, hyped up executives can keep their multi-million dollar salaries, company perks and luxurious houses while people like us begin to look over the edge at homelessness, malnutrition, and utterly lack of help from our state and local governments. (If you click on the title of this post, you'll be forwarded to the msnbc.com article that prompted my rant.)
Yet, they were quick to give him the boot after high school graduation. From there he entered the United States Navy. Never known for being babysitters, the US Navy gave him money and he had no idea what to do with it!! Me, coming from less than humble beginnings...spent my money on the things I wanted when I wanted. It wasn't long into our marriage that we found ourselves in a lot of financial trouble that took us YEARS to get out of. Our credit score was still lacking but we were able to get financing for a home in Connecticut.
My father, suffering from COPD and emphysema, came down seriously ill and was in ICU for several weeks. With young children, I was relying on him to ensure that they safely came home from school and stayed safe. This couldn't happen when he was in the hospital. I asked my employer to grant me a sift in hours for the next few weeks to ensure the safety of my children. This was not allowed and I was unceremoniously let go...forced to choose between my family and my job! But, that is a different blog all together.
What followed was several months of unemployment. My husband was just starting out in the automotive technician field and his pay was less than cellar. Working with Option One Mortgage company was no picnic. They refused partial payments, in fact, they sent back payments that were not made in full. The refused to help us every step of the way. Of course, I don't think I ever spoke with an english speaking service representative.
Months of fighting the mortgage company, foreclosure notices and each other, we finally gave up and became one of the first Sub-Prime Mortgage Victims. Now, I don't place the entire blame on Option One...but they do own some of it. The point is....we couldn't handle our finances and now can't get financed for a slice of bread.
So why......why are those in "charge" at these banks getting a bailout and keeping their jobs. Why are their "grunt" workers being laid off while they continue to receive exhorbant incomes, bonsues and perks??? How has this bailout helped Main Street America? Small businesses all over America are closing because their lines of credit aren't being renewed...but hey James Dimon, Henry Meyer, Richard Fairbank and the TONS of other overpaid, hyped up executives can keep their multi-million dollar salaries, company perks and luxurious houses while people like us begin to look over the edge at homelessness, malnutrition, and utterly lack of help from our state and local governments. (If you click on the title of this post, you'll be forwarded to the msnbc.com article that prompted my rant.)
Monday, January 26, 2009
Paralyzed
Some people get paralyzed by their fears. Some get paralyzed by certain phobias like heights, bridges, dark rooms, water. And some get paralyzed by their own emotions. I'm not talking the kind of paralysis that cements your feet to the ground or has you gasping for breathe. I'm talking about the kind of paralysis where you psychologically cannot move...either forwards or backwards. I'm one of those people who gets paralyzed by my own emotions....feeling inferior being the biggest one.
All I've ever wanted was to fit in with everyone else. I didn't want to be different. I believe this all started shortly after my father moved us all from Connecticut to Lewiston, Maine. My family, at the age of 7, was my world. My best friend, Lisa (name changed), lived next door to me. I lived walking distance to my maternal grandparents, my mother's uncle, my dad's sister. If you've ever been to the foothills of Connecticut and you're familiar with the town Terryville, you'll understand that this was an extremely small community with little economic infastructure. And my father moved us to Lewiston, Maine...the second or third largest "city" in Maine??? I found myself lost in a sea of people. I entered 3rd grade and all of those cemented friendships had little room for me...and I had no confidence to build a plan to infiltrate.
Then my parents moved.....in 2 years we moved 3 times and finally ended up in New Auburn, Maine the summer before I began fifth grade. This feeling of not fitting in had started seeping in there...but it wasn't until middle school that I really felt it. Maybe it's because of what was happening with my family at the time. I felt I had to hide what happened at home...not out of shame, but out of survival. No one wants to be friends with the kid with the crazy mom, three colored house, junk cars in the yard and trouble maker brothers. It probably didn't help that I somehow earned the distinction of not being like by the most popular girl in our grade, Susan (named changed.) And Susan had it all....money, looks, talent, parents who were normal and successful. I avoided her on the playground everyday for the longest time because she threatened to punch me. I wonder now if I had stood up to her, how would things be different. Alas, this isn't a Hollywood movie is it? Nope, I tucked my tail between my legs and dealt with the lumps life gave me.
To this day, I still moan about not being good enough, not fitting in. And a good friend (you know who you are) helped me realize that I've built walls so massive and then added a cocoon around myself that the real me is crying to get out. Maybe she's gone from crying to screaming. It's probably not a good thing that I over-analyze everything and therefore read into every word, body movement to help instill this feeling of inferiority. It's literally strangled my ability to trust people, like people, let people in. In fact, in response our conversation, I told my friend "I have walls because if I let people in, they hurt me!" And my past experiences have only served to cement all of these feelings. I had good friends in middle school.....then one of them had a father who followed me in his truck, tried to bring me into the back of his house and then denied the whole thing....the guidance counselor pull Tina, and her sister Tanya (names changed), into her office and told them of my accusations...can you say "good bye friends"?
And it's still happening now....whether it's all in my head or part of some sick form of karma....it's really sad that in a group of four people, you sometimes feel like the fifth wheel. But, I have to ask myself....how much of my insecurity am I bringing into this? And how much is my ever growing depression from being unemployed (and in a sense, incapacitated) fueling this fire? So I talk to my good friend and he says....."They are going to hurt you anyway." And you know what, he's right. (Go ahead, write it down, you know you want to.)
I talk to my life partner, soulmate, husband....who perhaps knows me better than I know myself. And being part of the group of four, he's got first hand knowledge...and he is struggling with how to help me through this. How can he stop me from hurting from these things? It's never going to go away. But I've got really good people around me to help me through the process. And as my own personal defense mechanism, I'll continue to over-analyze everything...it's both a blessing and a curse. But I won't, can't, give it up. It's what keeps me from turning into my mother.
All I've ever wanted was to fit in with everyone else. I didn't want to be different. I believe this all started shortly after my father moved us all from Connecticut to Lewiston, Maine. My family, at the age of 7, was my world. My best friend, Lisa (name changed), lived next door to me. I lived walking distance to my maternal grandparents, my mother's uncle, my dad's sister. If you've ever been to the foothills of Connecticut and you're familiar with the town Terryville, you'll understand that this was an extremely small community with little economic infastructure. And my father moved us to Lewiston, Maine...the second or third largest "city" in Maine??? I found myself lost in a sea of people. I entered 3rd grade and all of those cemented friendships had little room for me...and I had no confidence to build a plan to infiltrate.
Then my parents moved.....in 2 years we moved 3 times and finally ended up in New Auburn, Maine the summer before I began fifth grade. This feeling of not fitting in had started seeping in there...but it wasn't until middle school that I really felt it. Maybe it's because of what was happening with my family at the time. I felt I had to hide what happened at home...not out of shame, but out of survival. No one wants to be friends with the kid with the crazy mom, three colored house, junk cars in the yard and trouble maker brothers. It probably didn't help that I somehow earned the distinction of not being like by the most popular girl in our grade, Susan (named changed.) And Susan had it all....money, looks, talent, parents who were normal and successful. I avoided her on the playground everyday for the longest time because she threatened to punch me. I wonder now if I had stood up to her, how would things be different. Alas, this isn't a Hollywood movie is it? Nope, I tucked my tail between my legs and dealt with the lumps life gave me.
To this day, I still moan about not being good enough, not fitting in. And a good friend (you know who you are) helped me realize that I've built walls so massive and then added a cocoon around myself that the real me is crying to get out. Maybe she's gone from crying to screaming. It's probably not a good thing that I over-analyze everything and therefore read into every word, body movement to help instill this feeling of inferiority. It's literally strangled my ability to trust people, like people, let people in. In fact, in response our conversation, I told my friend "I have walls because if I let people in, they hurt me!" And my past experiences have only served to cement all of these feelings. I had good friends in middle school.....then one of them had a father who followed me in his truck, tried to bring me into the back of his house and then denied the whole thing....the guidance counselor pull Tina, and her sister Tanya (names changed), into her office and told them of my accusations...can you say "good bye friends"?
And it's still happening now....whether it's all in my head or part of some sick form of karma....it's really sad that in a group of four people, you sometimes feel like the fifth wheel. But, I have to ask myself....how much of my insecurity am I bringing into this? And how much is my ever growing depression from being unemployed (and in a sense, incapacitated) fueling this fire? So I talk to my good friend and he says....."They are going to hurt you anyway." And you know what, he's right. (Go ahead, write it down, you know you want to.)
I talk to my life partner, soulmate, husband....who perhaps knows me better than I know myself. And being part of the group of four, he's got first hand knowledge...and he is struggling with how to help me through this. How can he stop me from hurting from these things? It's never going to go away. But I've got really good people around me to help me through the process. And as my own personal defense mechanism, I'll continue to over-analyze everything...it's both a blessing and a curse. But I won't, can't, give it up. It's what keeps me from turning into my mother.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
For A Moment
For a moment, the world stopped today. Whether you're liberal or conservative; democrat or republican; white or black; young or old; man or woman; you cannot deny the historical and social significance of today. Barack Obama will become our first African American president. He's sending a message to the world and to our youth that anything is possible. You can do it. We can do it. It can be done.
He's united a country torn apart by war, greed and social inequalities. While we cannot ignore those who speak vehemently against Mr. Obama, or who wish him harm, today is not a day to focus on those short-sighted individuals who lack the ability to think outside their own boxes.
Today, we open our minds to hope. Hope that Mr. Obama will be able to carry out the majority of his campaign promises. Hope that Mr. Obama will restore the American Dream....a dream that is less about financial propserity and more about pride in ourselves, our neighbors, our country. Hope that social equality is within our grasp once again....because without social equality, America loses it's lustre.
Good luck Mr. Obama. May your road be paved with opportunities to make US better.
He's united a country torn apart by war, greed and social inequalities. While we cannot ignore those who speak vehemently against Mr. Obama, or who wish him harm, today is not a day to focus on those short-sighted individuals who lack the ability to think outside their own boxes.
Today, we open our minds to hope. Hope that Mr. Obama will be able to carry out the majority of his campaign promises. Hope that Mr. Obama will restore the American Dream....a dream that is less about financial propserity and more about pride in ourselves, our neighbors, our country. Hope that social equality is within our grasp once again....because without social equality, America loses it's lustre.
Good luck Mr. Obama. May your road be paved with opportunities to make US better.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Outside Looking In
Has it really been a year and a half since I blogged??? So, I had to ask myself why? Well, first I thought I would start with the question: why do any of us blog? I suppose we've got something to say and hope that someone wants to hear us. For me....I've always felt like I was on the outside looking in. In fact, I've tentatively started a book titled "Outside Looking In." It is semi-autobiographical. Mostly because I'm not imaginative enough to come up with something new. Besides, like Harry Potter, my adolescence wasn't exactly an easy road to follow. There were no BFF's, no parents with the financial resources to acquiesce to your every whim. Life was extremely hard for me.
I used to lament that I had no close friends....from childhood, and now, to adulthood. Making those connections has always been difficult for me. And I have to wonder why. At 36, I like who I am. I would be friends with me. Some reflections on my own actions....a task that only comes with age and maturity...I realized that my walls in middle and high school were so high that it was nearly impossible for anyone to get through. I was, quite plainly, a bitch. If I had something to say to you, I just said it. Regardless of your reaction...regardless of your feelings. I felt that utter honesty was the best policy, no matter the consequences.
For those old high school classmates reading this.....did you know that since the age of 12, I struggled with a suicidal mother. After suppressing years and years of child molestation, my mother finally woke up at 32 and started to remember it all!!! Her response was various and numerous attempts to take her life. Around the same age, I became "mom" in my house in all actions except the bedroom. I helped my father raise my little brothers. I helped him manage our money. I disciplined, took the calls from the Auburn PD, cooked, cleaned, shopped. I grew up so much faster than everyone around me that by the time we were all in high school, there was little anyone could really offer me. And I knew that, if only subconsciously.
I knew that there were more important things in life than what store at the mall you got your clothes at, or what John Smith said about Jane Doe in the cafeteria. Yet, I had no way to tell anyone. I wasn't aware of it myself, consciously. So, for those who found me aloof, bitchy, standoffish, I apologize. I accept my part for not "fitting in." I have connected with some of you in the last few months and I realize....you really are nice people. And you probably were 20 years ago. I was just so closed off back then, that I couldn't see it myself.
So, I've got a recommitment for my blog. I want this to become a place where people can reflect on their lives and maybe help that someone dealing with that hard issue. Give advice. Share hard times and how you got through it. I may tell memories about my past that are hard to hear. I will always change names....other than my own...to respect privacy...but this wont' be semi-autobiographical. This will be candid and true. And sometimes, it might be hard to read.
I'm not asking for apologies or sympathy. Really, what's done is done. This is my cathartic way of excersing old demons and destroying old walls. If I've remembered a memory incorrectly or you recognize it and want to show a different point of view, I welcome that. After all, I only saw it through my microscope, yours might be a lot different.
I used to lament that I had no close friends....from childhood, and now, to adulthood. Making those connections has always been difficult for me. And I have to wonder why. At 36, I like who I am. I would be friends with me. Some reflections on my own actions....a task that only comes with age and maturity...I realized that my walls in middle and high school were so high that it was nearly impossible for anyone to get through. I was, quite plainly, a bitch. If I had something to say to you, I just said it. Regardless of your reaction...regardless of your feelings. I felt that utter honesty was the best policy, no matter the consequences.
For those old high school classmates reading this.....did you know that since the age of 12, I struggled with a suicidal mother. After suppressing years and years of child molestation, my mother finally woke up at 32 and started to remember it all!!! Her response was various and numerous attempts to take her life. Around the same age, I became "mom" in my house in all actions except the bedroom. I helped my father raise my little brothers. I helped him manage our money. I disciplined, took the calls from the Auburn PD, cooked, cleaned, shopped. I grew up so much faster than everyone around me that by the time we were all in high school, there was little anyone could really offer me. And I knew that, if only subconsciously.
I knew that there were more important things in life than what store at the mall you got your clothes at, or what John Smith said about Jane Doe in the cafeteria. Yet, I had no way to tell anyone. I wasn't aware of it myself, consciously. So, for those who found me aloof, bitchy, standoffish, I apologize. I accept my part for not "fitting in." I have connected with some of you in the last few months and I realize....you really are nice people. And you probably were 20 years ago. I was just so closed off back then, that I couldn't see it myself.
So, I've got a recommitment for my blog. I want this to become a place where people can reflect on their lives and maybe help that someone dealing with that hard issue. Give advice. Share hard times and how you got through it. I may tell memories about my past that are hard to hear. I will always change names....other than my own...to respect privacy...but this wont' be semi-autobiographical. This will be candid and true. And sometimes, it might be hard to read.
I'm not asking for apologies or sympathy. Really, what's done is done. This is my cathartic way of excersing old demons and destroying old walls. If I've remembered a memory incorrectly or you recognize it and want to show a different point of view, I welcome that. After all, I only saw it through my microscope, yours might be a lot different.
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