Yes. Me Too.

There’s a big thing happening right now. Victims of some form sexual abuse (primarily women but I know there are men out there too) are finding their voices and coming forward. Most of them after the statute of limitations has run but they are still finding it within them to come forward. Too many of them just children when they were harmed.

I have always been a strong advocate of survivors whether they choose to come forward in the public or not. It takes strength to be a survivor.

You may not get it right the first time or the 100th…trying to take back what you were stolen..trying to move forward without these crippling walls.

I know. It’s hard for me to admit but I know. I am just now able to admit aloud; yes, me too. And I still can only say it to a certain public extent.

I just keep trying. I mess up. I have so many issues that sometimes I just *shrug*. But at the end of the day, I try. And I’m behind you as you try do the same.

 

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Thanks. I Don’t Recommend It

I grew up with both of my parents bad eating habits. My mom worries about her weight constantly (still-to this day. Aneorexia is an ongoing battle with her) and my dad likes to eat.

So I grew up worried about my weight constantly, wanting to fit into an ideal I actually already fit into though my mind didn’t know that. And yet loving to eat.

For awhile there wasn’t a problem. For awhile I could eat what I wanted and just stop eating when I wanted to lose weight “right quick”. Then age hit and with it came a slowing metabolism.

Then I eventually just…started losing. I changed my eating habits-not to the point that I am a health nut just enough because who I loved had a more healthy eating habit and I’ll mirror certain parts of someone I love. I heard that’s normal. If it’s not I don’t have time to deal with it. I have enough issues.

Anyway eating healthier and being more active…oh yeah…meant losing weight. And when I lost weight I lost quickly. And then it kept going and going and soon I was the thinnest I’d ever been in my life. Without even trying.

Then even after gaining some of it back during a depressed state I soon lost it when I got sick.

People would compliment me because they noticed the weight loss not knowing I had been through hell and back and I would say “Thanks. I don’t recommend it.” Because going through hell and back is not the diet of choice.

I fought long and hard to stay here.

I am my mother’s child.

Once again I’ve lost a lot of weight. People have noticed.

Thanks. I don’t recommend it.

I think my body is healthy. But I am my mothers child. And all of a sudden there are times I’m just not hungry.

Not all the time. I’ll tear a burrito up. And pasta I love pasta. But we don’t eat those things often.

So normal food. Eh.

I’m not that hungry. I am my mother’s child.

Work has become hell. My love is going through so much of his own shit and I feel I can’t help him and I hate it.

So I’m just not that hungry.

I don’t recommend it.

I’d rather be happy and have the people I love happy and have a normal appetite.

But I am my mother’s child. And my father’s. And the love of my sweetheart. And we all are fighters through hell and back.

It’s what we do.

So thanks for noticing but I wouldn’t recommend it.

Hopefully my appetite will return soon.

To a point.

Because I am my mother’s child. The tendencies are there. I have to be on guard.

But thanks for noticing.

 

 

Awareness. Pain. Anger. Wonder.

My boss changed because my old boss is at a level where she really should be focusing on other things. Life happens. But the new boss doesn’t have her shit together and she is accusatory and a good worker has quit under her watch already. And then there’s me.

2 times in less than 3 weeks she has accused me of something, once in front of other people (basically where she dropped the ball and claimed it was my fault) and when I had my documented proof otherwise instead of owning up to it and saying “I’m sorry” she just drops it.

And those are just the major things. But on a day to day basis she makes my day harder than it needs to be.

I’ve been here before. I’ve had a boss like her. Where she can’t admit she’s human and *gasp* could be wrong. Where she fucks up but expects me to fix it yesterday. Where she has no sense of her own duties beyond what she wants to do. There no benefit of the doubt, no matter how earned, ever applied. She makes snap judgements based on her own emotions and doesn’t look at any facts.

I’ve left the country in order to leave a job because of a boss like her.

So just like that the unbearable which was bearable under a good boss becomes a “How fast can I get the fuck out of here” place.

And it makes me angry.

Which is the point to my post.

Guess what? Anger is an emotion people feel. They are allowed to have it and express it (in non harmful ways) and guess what–it should be encouraged. Because without the healthy expesssion of anger all you have left are those inner thoughts of frustration with no one to hear you. So you internalize it and it can make you physically sick. Trust me. I know. I left the country for a new job because of it.

It is when you are angry that you learn at least in part, where your true support system lies. I’m not talking about people who will enable you; I’m talking about people who will allow you to actually be in your feelings and listen. Not forever but for the moment.

I’ve been in therapy lately. It hurts. I am constantly in a state of awareness.  And I am learning my feelings are okay. They are valid. And they were valid when I was young even though I hid them so as to not rock any boat in already turbulent waters. And they are valid now. And it hurts to express them to someone I love and support only to have said person shut me out because of their own narcissistic issues.  When I grew up validating that person’s pain even as a child–some pain I shouldn’t have known about in the hopes of trying to pit me against the other parent–even though they were the adult.

I’m learning. I am constantly in a state of awareness.

And having to let go of wanting emotional support from someone I have given emotional support to all of my life…even at the detriment of my own feelings…

I’m learning. I’m constantly in a state of awareness.

And it hurts.

And I am angry.

And I’m thankful for those that allow me to be angry. And I’m in tears to recognize that one of the people I need it most from…grew up giving it to…can’t help me because they are too in their own world.

And I wonder when that will stop being painful.

 

Joy Giveth Joy Taketh (Or Giveneth)

I have been working my ass off pretty much non stop for a month. Late nights every day. Working on the weekend every day. And I don’t see an end in sight.

I said in an earlier post that having a boss who appreciates you means the world especially during hard days. That holds true. Case in a point this boss of mine (who is one of the two best bosses I have ever had) gave me an unexpected bonus because of how hard I have been working and how well I’ve been working (she understands you can work hard and not well).

This is the kind of boss who makes you want to hang in there. The kind of boss where you know when she (or he) says something it means something.

I am lucky to be here. And that was going to be the gist of my post.

But then that feeling of feeling appreciated was just gone. Taken or given or whatever. I know that there are few feelings that can be taken. But if you’re me, even as you know that, the fact is, you wind up giving power to people who matter to you. It’s that whole boundary thing I talked about last time (yes, I am failing my homework).

I am riding high on the pride cloud so I call a few people to share the news. One person though…she’s tired (which I get-I get being tired being an insomniac and all) she’s cranky and before I can say it’s okay and I’ll talk to her later she wants to know now because I interrupted something I didn’t know about. So I quickly tell her and her answer is short and curt and my cloud is full of rain.

Why? Because she’s my mom. And I’m not saying my mom is a horrible person or mother. I am saying that as long as I can remember my mom’s moods and feelings took precedence over mine. To the point that I grew up knowing to keep my moods and feelings inside for the most part.

So I go back to working and all I can be is that little girl who is too adult for her own good and tried ever so hard not to rock the boat. And as a grown woman still does the same.

To keep those feelings and moods and needs inside for the most part.

And that bonus and that thank you that matters, and the other people who matter

All are behind that little girl turned grown woman who, yes gave, that bit of joy away.

But still wishes that her mom wouldn’t so easily take it.

But hey-I got a bonus today.

 

 

Boundaries? What are those?

Today I had my second session with my therapist. And we wound up talking about boundaries and my lack thereof.

Now I don’t mean with everyone or even most people. 99% of the time I’m a hard cookie to crack. I don’t believe in just being clingy and needy *shudders* and never have.

But if I love you. If you matter to me. Then what you feels matters to me. To the point that you know that and you text me to say you’re in tears and can I talk. Or you call me and I can tell just by a slight voice change something is wrong. Or I call you and even your “hello” is off.

I sometimes think I’m an empath. Because even if I don’t love you I can read you about 99% of the time. But I think, thankfully, I’ve managed to close off spirits most of the time (yes, I believe in spirits. And yes I said most of the time).

I digress.  I do that when I’m thinking and therapy makes me think.

Anyway, boundaries.

I will close myself off to people I love. Tell them everything is fine when it’s not. There’s not one soul who knows me completely. There’s some scary shit going on in there.

But I am that one who wants to be sure everything is not just okay but perfect for you, And when you don’t let me try and help you I take that shit on.

Your moods effect my moods.

That’s what we talked about. Setting those boundaries.

But I don’t know how. I connect with so few people that the thought of pushing any back some…I don’t know how.

I suppose I am supposed to learn. My next session is in 3 weeks.

I have a feeling I will fail my homework.

 

Normalcy is Welcome

I’m a minority. I’m a woman. I work in a major city. I’ve been through major surgeries. I’ve been alone literally across the globe from the people that I’m closest to at times when I needed them the most.

Fear is real.

And sometimes it keeps me frozen to a spot. I look around and I wonder if I can make it from point A to point B.

Jesus Loves Me repeats over and over in my head at times. That repetition of my love for my God helps  me. (If you don’t have a higher power okay. If you have a different higher power okay.  I can only speak for myself and I’m not a person who tries to convert people).

People say if you’re afraid you let the bad guys win. That’s the truth. I’m not doubting that. I think one of the major problems in society is the fact that people are afraid of so much.

That all said–I live in times that can be frightening. Fuck it-that are frightening.

And so when something not frightening happens–when someone tired on the train nods off and her head falls on my shoulder…I’m fine with that. We’ve all been there where we’ve worked so hard all we want to do is sleep.

Day to day we’re surrounded by things that are scary.

Normalcy is welcome in all its forms.

 

 

I’m Trying To Help….Forget It *eats popcorn*

My job is ever changing.  It’s what happens when you actually get stuff done in a sea of people who…don’t.

Figure this out, show people what to do (so they won’t do it), give people the tools they need to do something (they won’t do even though they should).

I have two (okay more) but two modes that I am going to talk about today.  If I think you’re trying I will do my best to help and protect you–I will send you reminders that I really should not have to.  I will watch you and help you with the goal so that you will grow and do it yourself.

But if your growth doesn’t come, if I don’t see even baby steps, eventually that turns into “Yeah…gives no fuck” mode.  Because that basically means to me that you don’t care about yourself or your well being or your job apparently so why am I going to expend my energy?  It may sound harsh, but I take on too much.   I don’t leave enough for myself.

Until I realize you’re taking up emotional space that I need.

If I am in “Yeah…gives no fuck” mode and your lack of work is effecting MY work, I’ll remind you for MY sake, but I don’t go down with your ship when you refuse to help me paddle.  I move along to the next ship.  Preferably a cruise liner but like the cool ones from the OG Love Boat of the 70s (the 80s sucked).

I am interested to see what happens today.  Looking around my guess is that it’s not going to be good.  Maybe I will be surprised…but really, if not, well…I can tell my boss is at the edge of the rope.

And with very good reason.

 

 

 

 

 

Who Needs Sleep Anyway *Raises Hand*

Last night I played the “How long can you stay awake while knowing the clock is ticking on it being time for you to wake up” game. The title of the game is long and lame because I came up with it at probably around 4 am.

I have been battling insomnia since I was 19. I know what triggered it on one hand but not on another. That is a post for another day. Maybe. Possibly.

Last night I should have been able to sleep. (By the way, I never sleep any decent amount of hours. When I say I should have been able to sleep I mean I should have been able to catch some zzzs in between tossing and turning). Anyway I had a night cap and everything. But I couldn’t. There were no zzzzs. Only tossing and turning.  I was wide awake and I tried everything. Eventually I got out of bed because one miserable person is enough for a bed and why toss and turn and wake luckily slumbering man up?

So I sat in the corner and wondered what time the sun would come up. And why is it that songs you hate manage to get stuck in your head–especially when you only know so many words because you hate it (the lines to that damn song are still in my head). And now what time is it? I wonder if I can fall asleep at all? Maybe I should just be at work by 5. But then I will be alone and being alone at work really early or late kind of freaks me out.

And so on and so on.

I finally got sleepy around an hour before I was supposed to get up.

Needless to say I worked from home today.

I should be in bed soon. I’m wide awake with those stupid lines to that stupid song stuck in my head.

No nightcap tonight though.  I don’t nightcap every night unless I am on vacation.

I really don’t want to play the long lame titled game again.

When I play that game too many times in a row it turns into the “how many things can make me cry because I’m so fucking tired” game.

I hate that game the most.

Maybe I am hoping that having written all of this down will somehow stop my mind from running in overdrive. I am also listening on loop to one of my favorite slow songs.

Hope springs eternal.

Unless I can’t sleep again tonight.

While You Are Young

I was speaking to someone at work on Friday. She came in to give me money she owed me that I completely forgot about because I had picked up a danish for her while on a coffee run.

I told her it wasn’t necessary and she said she was always the child who returned money she borrowed from her parents. I joked that I was always the child who would find money and give it to my parents.

We were both the youngest siblings. We both have older siblings who let’s just say weren’t the stereotype of the “mature” one.

But this post isn’t about my sibling (maybe another day). This is about me. Growing up in that shadow. Not a shadow of Marcia Marcia Marcia perfection. A shadow which stressed my parents out daily.

I was told I was always “a little adult”. People would comment on how well behaved I was. I was quiet. I was respectful. I was that annoying kid who stressed so much about grades when I almost always got an A (fuck you math and science).

There are a lot of things I didn’t do. I’m not saying I wish I did them. I’m saying I wish that I had more of a choice. I wish that I wasn’t always so scared of adding stress that I just never wanted to be not so adult. I wish that I wasn’t the one whose mom would tell her things that kids shouldn’t know or have to process.

I wish I had felt some freedom.

There are things I didn’t do. I’m not saying I wish I did them. I’m saying I wish the thought had crossed my mind.

Because I wasn’t a “little adult”. I was a “too mature child.”

A Good Boss Makes A World of Difference

I complain a lot about work (though usually just to myself).  But generally it’s a “this part sucked but otherwise things were fine”. And that’s what work is. Even someone with the best job in the world has at least parts of it, I would bet daily, that go craptistically bad.

Yesterday was an entire day that went so badly I went and hid in my car to call my sweetheart who was also at work (I don’t do that because he hates it) and literally cried (he hates that even more).

When I got home from work the day continued to suck (seriously what kind of cosmic happenings were going on yesterday?) so I called my parents to vent. I vented to my best friend. Basically I just needed to wear a sign that said “please give me a hug.”

And I am not a hugger.

When my sweetheart got home I latched onto him like some clingy chick, something I hate and therefore am only such on rare occasions.  He loves that stuff though so today he’s aggravating me with his need for me to be needy but that is another post.

Anyway as I was going through my day, I did realize or I should say really realized just how much my boss appreciates me. My day sucked. But everyone’s day at work sucked. Like should be a tv episode sucked. And my boss not only cared but let me know that what I did to make it less sucky mattered.

I have had all sorts of bosses–wonderful, horrible (oh I have some stories) and in between.

It may sound cliche but it’s not–a good boss can make a world of a difference to how you feel about your job and your role at work.

Even on a sucky day.