Day 365: The End . . . and a New Beginning for Two More Blogs

So this is it. Day 365 is finally here and I feel . . . well, a little anti-climatic actually. I’m not healed or un-crazy. Life isn’t going 100 percent my way and there are still tons of things about myself that I need to work on to be healthy and happy. All that aside, what I am most focused on is the fact that there are so many things happening in the world today that I want to comment on and discuss. While the main intent of the blog might have been to focus myself on me, a side benefit was that it gave me an outlet to express my sometimes over-exuberant opinions on political and social issues. So I have decided there is no reason to stop.

My year of self-examination might be over, but I am going to continue the blog on a semi-frequent basis to see what I can stir up. I love hearing from you on your beliefs and lifestyles and I love even more telling you what I think. The narcissist in me demands a platform and since no one is smart enough to hire me to write for them, I will create my own venue. In this next year I won’t be writing every day, and I won’t be writing so much about my own issues, instead, I will comment on what’s happening in the world. I am perpetually fascinated by what we are and are not doing around the globe, so why not discuss ad nauseam until even I am sick of my own opinions?

I am incredibly grateful to all of you who have read even one of my blogs and I’m pretty damn happy with myself for writing every day (we’ll ignore the five or so days I didn’t post on time). Still, it was a lot of work and there were many days I did not feel like writing anything at all, let alone something others could read. This year will be different. I’ll post only when I want to and it will give me time to consider my topics more carefully and even edit them for mistakes. I hope to engender more discussion and if you have not signed up to follow, you should really do so now.

In addition to this blog, I am starting a new one entitled “Ame’s Addictions” and in that blog I will write about things that I am obsessed with at the moment of publication. The topics will be more fun and in-depth. I’m hoping to use photography, interviews, quotes, and maybe even video. We’ll have to see how it goes. I definitely am never at a loss for words or topics to discuss/investigate so between these two blogs I should be able to come up with some at least partly interesting missives.

In the meantime, I think I am going to enjoy my weekend blog-free for once. Thanks to all of you who have read it, commented and emailed me privately. Your support and even your dissent means more to me than I can tell you. Until next blog, cheers.

A.

Day 364: One Journey Ends and Another Begins

It is a typical bit of irony that just when I am winding down my exploration of the self, the husband would begin one of his own. After all my talk of healing, dealing and feeling, I find that I am a little annoyed at the prospect of Jeff’s own journey of the self. Not that he’s not entitled to his own quest for fulfillment and inner peace, I just don’t want it to interfere with my life. Funny, that for all my talk of acceptance and sucking it up when it comes to my own flaws and quirks, I don’t seem to have the tolerance for granting the same to others.

Not that the husband is particularly flawed or messed up, he’s just unwinding from life now that he’s got a little time and space to be his own person. It’s interesting to note that once you live with someone you kind of stop with the self-indulgent act of “finding oneself” because you’re busy finding each other and who you are together. Jeff has been in school and the Army for eighteen years and most of that time he also had various romantic relationships to maintain. Since we are separated during the week and sometimes over the weekends as well, that part of ourselves that we hold back or temper a bit to compromise for relationship’s sake is starting to seep back in.

I, of course, had a full year on my own to experience all this, but Jeff was a bit busy with that whole war thing during that time. Now that he’s had time to adjust to life after deployment he’s beginning his own journey and as supportive as I want to be, I keep saying and doing the wrong thing. Why is it so difficult to be selfless no matter how much you want to be? I am supportive in theory and know that when all is said and done I will let him experience his own path just as I did, but those selfish motivations keep creeping back in. Why, for example, can’t he just be normal on the weekends and stick to “Jeff time” Monday through Friday?

Being in a partnership is tough and I knew that going in, but there’s a reason I keep finding myself partnered up with strong, somewhat stoic men . . . I am a needy, selfish woman! Jeff is strong and well-adjusted and not overly prone to introspection, and I like it that way. So it really sucks now that he wants to rebuild his own identity after a whirlwind existence of advanced education, relationships, and wartime deployments. Why can’t people be on our timelines instead of their own? Life would be so much easier, but also a lot more boring if we could control our loved ones.

Now that I have completed my set upon journey to find out who and why I am the person I am, it’s going to be difficult not to tell the husband how to proceed down his own path. We all need to take time to get to know our adult selves as separate from those relationships and responsibilities of our daily lives. This might be the hardest part of being a couple. No matter how much we try to exert our independence, it can sometimes be uncomfortable to witness our partner’s own need for the same. I think maybe that is the definition of a truly healthy adult relationship: the acceptance of our loved one’s need to be their own person, separate from their identity of wife or husband. I hope I live up to the challenge.

Day 363: Still Learning, but a Little Sick of Myself

This is it. The final days of my year-long experiment of self-analysis. I’d like to say that after 362 days I have myself all figured out, but unfortunately that’s not really the case. After all this daily introspection I have come to the conclusion that I, like everyone else in the world, am complicated. I don’t know why I do half the things I do and I am no closer to being able to control my inherent moodiness today than I was on day one. Then again, can anyone? Aren’t we all just muddling through and hoping for the best?

I’d love to think that I am somehow better and that my willingness to put myself out into the world, revealing the flaws and conflicts within, has elevated me beyond mere mortal, but it hasn’t. I love that I can look back on this year and see where my head was at on any given day and sometimes even where I was physically. This has been a great experiment for me and I am proud that I stuck to it. There were days that owning up to something was difficult and I have taken some heat for my more controversial opinions, but it is worth it.

If nothing else, my journey in the blogosphere taught me to stay true to who I am, except when it hurts others more than it helps me. Of all the things I learned, this last is the most important, but also the most difficult to remember. As a natural narcissist, it’s easy for me to get wrapped up in my own issues and emotional dramas, and from time to time that means someone else takes a back seat or gets hurt. Despite all the things I am proud of by writing this blog and endeavoring to be truthful and unbiased in my self-reflection, I am struggling with a few losses that it precipitated. I lost a good friend indirectly and there have been a few conflicts with the husband over some content. I cannot say I completely regret anything I wrote, but I am sorry for any hurt I caused.

I’m not fixed and it’s likely that I will always be at least partly broken, but that just leaves more material for other blogs or possibly that book I’ve wanted to write. I’m no different than anyone else, I’m just willing to talk about the things that most people prefer to keep private or even to ignore. I’m looking forward to seeing what the next year brings. Life may never be perfect, but I do believe that I have made mine better by getting to know myself and most importantly, by calling myself on my own bullshit. I still practice occasional denial, but it’s harder to live there when you’re writing your truth on a daily basis. 

Day 361: It's Okay to Need Someone

I caught a rerun of the movie “Bodyguard” the other night. Today, I’ve been singing that Dolly Parton theme song in my head all day long.

“If I should stay
Well, I would only be in your way
And so I'll go, and yet I know
That I'll think of you each step of my way
And I will always love you
I will always love you

Bitter-sweet memories
That's all I have, and all I'm taking with me
Good-bye, oh, please don't cry
'Cause we both know that I'm not
What you need
But I will always love you
I will always love you”

I quote the lyrics, because it’s not something I can paraphrase any clearer than the original. What does it mean to “need” someone? To me, that’s always been sort of a negative. I don’t want to need people, I want to want them and for them to want me. Of course, we need people in the abstract. We all need people that love us and those that we can love, but the idea that we need a specific person sounds frightening to me. Can you survive without that person you are in love with or is your very existence and ability to live a happy and fulfilled life dependent on a single person? Furthermore, if you say yes, is that healthy?

I am a person who before today would tell you that I don’t need the husband. I want to be with Jeff, but I don’t need him to live. I survived long before I met him and I would survive without him. Except here’s the thing, I don’t want to merely survive, I want to be happy and to thrive. Before Jeff, and if I had to have an after Jeff, I would be okay. I know how to be alone, how to manage being lonely and how to be somewhat unhappy. I know that I could go back to that life. There is a certain comfort in not having to be responsible to anyone else and in feeling free to express sadness or anger. Let’s face it, being alone and unhappy is the perfect excuse to feel sorry for oneself and to be cynical, two things I’m pretty damn good at.

I still don’t want to need Jeff, but it doesn’t mean I don’t. When you build a life with someone else, that life only works when both people are committed to it. In essence, you need each other. Sure, you can live without him or her, but the life you have will not be the same one you cherish now. What I have learned in this last year is that needing Jeff does not mean I can’t live without him, it means that this life I have worked so hard to put back together only works with him in it. I need his partnership, his support and his love and so I guess that means I need him. Everyone needs someone and the husband is that someone for me. Lesson learned.

Ah, but that’s not the point of the lyric, is it? In the end, it’s not about who we need, it’s about being the person that our partner needs. Short of changing who we are, the only thing any of us can do is to be the best us possible and hope it’s enough. As much as it sucks to need someone, it feels incredible to be needed back. If I’m lucky, I’ll be that person for Jeff for a very long time to come. I’ve loved a few people, but he is the only one I’ve ever needed and it only took me 361 days to figure it out . . . well, five years and 361 days. 

Day 360: I Put on My Oxygen Mask First Because I Want us Both to Survive

Do we have a responsibility to feel what our partner is feeling? In a perfect relationship we might always be in sync, but real life is rarely perfect and relationships aren’t either. So how does one navigate the emotional ups and downs of our partner in a way that is considerate even if we’re not on the same page? For that matter, is it even necessary or should we be free to feel on our own schedule?

While the husband was in Iraq working 24/7 seven days a week I was soothing my emotional distress with good times, alcohol induced hazes, and lots of soul searching. Should I have been home every night sitting by the computer and phone hoping for a call or was it okay to still live my life? I hate that I got to have fun while he got shot at, but in life we sometimes have to follow paths that take us away from our partners.

So what exactly is our responsibility to one another? While we may be coupled up and stand as one in a union, we are still individuals with our own minds, opinions, and emotions. What one person needs to be happy and healthy may not be the same for the other. I think that is okay, but it seems to often cause conflict in many relationships. Each decision made by one person might have an affect on the other person, but do we not still have the right to follow a path that we want or need? I will not argue that some choices are too big and have the potential to adversely affect a relationship in a serious way, but this idea that every step we take must be in tandem is suffocating.

I was born a singular entity with my own name and identity and I will never be a Mrs. or need to take another’s name to redefine who I am. Married, single or in-between, I will forever just be me and the choices I make in my life will firstly be for my own sanity. I put my oxygen mask on first before helping those I care about. Why is looking out for number one, as the saying goes, such a bad thing? There are going to be times in every relationship when one partner is struggling with something and while we should certainly be compassionate we cannot always be in the same emotional place as our partner. I get to be me. So while your own circumstances may not be as dramatic as an Iraq deployment, the reality is the same. We cannot stop life’s bullets and sometimes you just need a cocktail.

Day 359: If I Checked Myself, I'd Surely Wreck Myself

A friend recently pointed out to me that one can search my blog for specific words or phrases. Such a search will bring up every blog that mentions the searched for word(s), thus allowing one to see trends and/or patterns in my writing. Fabulous. A shortcut to dissecting the frequency and timeline of my many issues, just what I was hoping for. So now if I want to see just how often alcohol has played into my personal year-long experiment I can just type in a few words (whiskey, scotch, beer) and see that in 35 separate blogs I mentioned one of these three. 35 out of 358 isn’t that bad, right?

I suppose I should be glad for this new knowledge. If the initial intent of the blog was to get to know myself better and hold myself accountable now I have an actual accounting of each issue. I can search all kinds of fun topics and reminisce. Things like, sad, lonely, low self-esteem, angry, mistake, and all sorts of lovely blasts from the past. Should I actually catalog the various blog topics of this past year would I learn anything about myself? Perhaps, but I’m not sure I even want to learn that lesson. Life is hard enough without wallowing in one’s misfortunes. When I blog about them I just let them out into the world and try not to revisit except for the most egregious of typos or grammatical mistakes.

Now, however, I have this lingering potential summary hanging over my head. I am both fascinated and repulsed by the idea of knowing who I was and what I was thinking on any given day. Imagine having the ability to recall any day of your past, would you use it, what about if it were only over a specific period of time in which you were admittedly struggling? As a person who tries diligently to live a life without regrets this factual hindsight into my past mentality is tormenting me. On one hand I am a narcissistic soul who clearly has no problem wallowing in my own life experiences be they good or bad, but I also believe in accepting and moving on without a lot of worrying over what was and what could have been.

I believe people live their lives in a manner best suited for them at any given moment in time, and to revisit that time does not necessarily mean that one’s current mentality would align with that of the past. I hope that I have grown some, learned some, and forgotten some over the last year. No one is more aware than I am that within me exists the potential for both excellence and massive stupidity. Will reviewing those choices now make me the better for it? I’m not sure and I’m even a little afraid to test it out. There may only be 35 instances of my mentioning those three drinks, but search drunk, cocktails or drinking and you’ll likely to get quite a few more hits. Some things are better left unknown and under-analyzed. I am what I am and I cannot undo anything, but I certainly do not have to relive it.

Day 358: Go Ahead and Jump, We All Need It

Why are there some things that we do just because they are against the rules? A particular act that on its own might not be all that exciting or appealing suddenly becomes so much more compelling simply because there is a possibility that you might get in trouble. As children and teens we may do things that get us into trouble, but we don't really want to be punished, as adults there might be times, however, when the very possibility of being arrested or ticketed is cool simply for the story.Who are these risk takers and why do they do it?


My friend Colleen jumped off a rock wall into a lake today with the lake police staked out nearby. She was thinking about jumping anyway, but the warnings by fellow boaters that the lake fuzz were ticketing for that very act proved too much for her to deny. She jumped and after no one admonished her for it she became a little disappointed. Where was her moment of glory for breaking the rules and living like a rebel? It's hard to be a badass when not even the lake equivalent of mall security take notice.


Life can be pretty staid and as we get older and more experienced the quest for adventure or novelty might take us in unexpected directions. Rebelling against authority is not reserved just for teenagers, even adults need to feel a little wild and out of control now and again. Most adults are generally responsible individuals with families, careers, and respectability. For them, giving the bird to Bed, Bath and Beyond as they drive by might be all the rebellion they need. Just as diving off a rock illegally might be the leather jacket and greased back hair of their otherwise responsible Mommy-time. 


We need adventure to feel alive and young. It is the unpredictability and even uncertainty in life that leave us with that charge of adrenaline. So a Mom with four kids, husband and countless responsibilities gets off on playing hooky and taking a day for herself once in a while or the serious businessman with very grounded vision loses himself in video games two hours a week. We need these outlets and somehow the more dangerous or consequence-laden they seem, the more inevitable they become. 


Oddly enough, for someone like me it is almost the opposite. I do not live a life of great responsiblity to others. My life is mine and aside from juggling the responsibilities of partnering up, I get to make mistakes, speak inadvisably, and generally fuck up whenever I want. I live a little bit like my hair is on fire all the time so when a situation presents itself that can make others feel alive, I usually do not feel that same pull. I already routinely drive 90, rebel against authority and duck responsibility. I have clashed  with parents, teachers, bosses, friends and the law and my adrenaline response to it is no longer what it used to be. I live a fairly wild life in many respects so I do not always need to seek out the extra drama. 


Conversely, those of you in the world that find yourselves living for more than just your own gratification are likely to experience this outlaw orgasm. You are the pleasers of life, the middle children, the easy-going, the responsibility driven. You do what is expected of you and crave the adrenaline rush of doing something ill-advised or taboo. So you jump from that rock and secretly hope that by weekend's conclusion you'll be regaling the crowd with stories of your $75 ticket for . . . well, whatever offense something like jumping off a rock into the lake might be. You need it because like all of us, we need balance. I live an breathe rebellion so what I need is stability -- enter the husband. You might live stability and need a little crazy. Either way, we're all looking for the same overall balance, we just assess risk a bit differently. I jump a little each day, but the danger in that is that sooner or later I'm going to find myself too tired or too far out to make it back to safety. It's a game of balance and without that, our lives will forever be unsatisfied.

Day 357: I Don't Have Children so I'm Not Going to Read Their Books

Once again I find myself embroiled in a semi-heated discussion about Harry Potter books and my refusal to read them. The husband has read them, friends have read them, every child on the planet has read them, but no, I will not read them and I am pretty comfortable with that choice despite the, sometimes rabid, praise fans throw at them. I suppose I should back up and state clearly that my refusal to read them has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that I believe that they are, in fact, CHILDREN’S LITERATURE and at last check I am an adult.

I have no problem with the subject matter or storylines. Thanks to the husband’s influence I have seen all the movies and while they continue to perplex and slightly annoy me, they are capable of mindless enjoyment on the big screen. HP can be a fun and whimsical ride, and while I would never choose to watch the movies on my own, I was able to watch them and even like them to a degree. Even so, I am not willing to read the books or to even concede that anyone over the age of 18 should read them.

It’s not going to make you a bad person if you read them. I’m certainly not going to disown my husband or friends for disagreeing with my good taste in reading material, but I’m not going to praise theirs either. My friend asked why I won’t read them and I replied honestly that I am a book snob and do not have the time to read books meant for children. Please do not deny that this is the intended audience. The author herself admits to writing for children. From my viewpoint there are dozens of books being published every week that I will never have the time to read. Books about life, politics, history, issues, as well as quality fiction are out there demanding my attention and I am falling further and further behind.

Reading something frivolous like HP would be a huge waste of time for me, but beyond that I refuse to look past the fact that it is written for children and teens. I have never disputed the fact that it is well-written (so I’ve heard), interesting or entertaining, I dispute that it is written for adults. As much as I enjoyed Sweet Valley High when I was sixteen and know that I would love to catch up with Elizabeth and Jessica, I also know that at 37 there are other books that I want and need to be spending my time on. Not because I am better or smarter, but because I want to and also, I’m a huge book snob!

I have my vices and I’m no better than anyone, but I will not ever concede to reading HP. If I had kids, it would be different, but I do not and will not and so I shall not. If being a book snob is the biggest crime I can commit then I guess I’m not all bad. Life is serious and I understand we all need our “beach read” equivalents, but kid’s lit is not mine. Read it if you like, talk to me about it if you must, but know going in that I will not change my mind. I do consider my books to be “serious literature” and it’s the one thing I am very proud of in my life. I enjoy quality books, both fiction and non-fiction, but I stick to my age range, because the truth is, if I opened myself up to everything I’d definitely never catch up and I can’t take the anxiety. Right now I’m reading three non-fiction books and listening to a fourth as an audio download, there just isn’t a lot of time for HP or Judy Bloom or any other kid friendly title. But I do have time to make fun of you should you decide to waken the book snob.

Day 356: Lazy Days Equal Lazy Brains

I am currently working at one of the easiest jobs of my professional career and yet I am exhausted all the time. For nine hours a day (they do not pay over the lunch hour) I sit in a very low-key and fun office and fight the inevitable urge to doze off. It started me thinking about why a job that is neither mentally nor physically taxing can be so tiring. Of course that’s when I realized that any pursuit that we are not truly engaged in on some level will be boring and mentally draining. We are essentially creatures of work and when that aspect of our lives is not fulfilled the sloth-like impulses begin to take over.

This is not my first mindless job, but it is the first that is both mindless and physically easy. I sit in a comfortable leather chair and stair at a computer for eight hours a day. The company itself is great, it’s a national marketing firm that plans, coordinates and tracks elite events, travel, rewards programs, etc., for things like the Superbowl, the Kentucky Derby, and the Masters. My current position their, however, is not fun or exciting and I dread getting up every morning knowing what lie ahead.

The human body is an amazing machine capable of great physical acts. It also possesses a brain that we have made very little progress trying to understand due to its complexity. Mind-numbing activity that could likely be completed with equal ease from a comatose state is not what we are made for. I am so tired, in fact, that after a long day of doing nothing I am too exhausted to work out. I feel my body craving the physical exertion and yet I can barely muster the energy to move the clean dishes from the dishwasher to the kitchen cabinets.

Back in the days of my undergrad I went to classes and worked two jobs that were both physical in nature for the most part. I was utilizing both my brain and my braun and yet I do not remember being this tired every morning when the alarm goes off, throughout the day, and ever night when my head finally hits the pillow. There is the small point that I was nearly twenty or so years younger and therefore had more energy naturally, but I think there is more to it. We need to be active in our bodies and in our minds. The less you do, the less you want to do and that is the golden path toward a life without purpose or fulfillment.

I am so anxious for grad school to start. I want to get back to a career that matters to me, one that necessitates working weekends or taking work home with me at night. It is tiresome, yes, but it gives a sense of achievement and value that we need in our lives. I often wondered how my much-hated Stepfather managed to work at a factory for so many years. I cannot imagine that meatsuit being capable of much else, but the mere notion of standing in one place doing a repetitive activity for ten hours a day terrified me. We are meant for more and greater things and right now I am contributing nothing to my own growth or that of the world besides a paycheck. It is nice to have this feeling anytime I start to get a little scared at the idea of going back to school and working at the same time. It will be daunting, but daunting can be good, it’s how we know what we are capable of and drives us to accomplish more.

Day 355: What was Frost's LIne, Nothing Gold Can Stay?

It was one of those surreal evenings. The weather, suddenly turned perfect, made driving in my convertible a welcome and soothing experience. Just before dusk the temperature was 76 and though the sun was not yet set there was a full moon, white and enormous, hanging low in the sky. Across from the moon was what they call a vanilla sky. The pastel streaks had a golden glow from the remaining sunlight giving the wisps and semi fluffs of clouds a delicious glow. So there I was, driving down the road, wind in my hair, beautiful evening weather, life was good. Yet the beauty I admired in the world at that moment was conspiring against someone else to make his night a lousy one.

In the midst of my revelry, I noticed a cop driving behind me. Within minutes he suddenly passed and sped ahead. Ha! Not even a possible speeding ticket would ruin my night. Then, just as I crested the hill I found out where he was in such a hurry to get to. Three cop cars with lights flashing were pulled over behind one lone civilian vehicle. Really, I thought to myself, it takes three to pull one guy over? That’s when I noticed the best part. The guy was black, sitting behind the wheel talking to two officers standing outside his door. If he’s so dangerous, why haven’t they ordered him out of the car?

Here’s the deal. This wasn’t some tricked out car with a bunch of tough looking guys in it. It was a beat up civic from probably 1997. The guy driving looked like he weighed less than me and he had who I am guessing is his girlfriend in the seat beside him. They were completely normal looking. No weird hairstyles, jewelry, prison face tats or anything else that might signal they could be bad news. I’m sitting at a stop light just beside them watching all this go down and thinking how annoying this must be for that couple to have such a beautiful evening ruined like this. They were so normal looking and that’s not to say that ordinary people can not and do not commit violent crimes or that all edgier looking types do, but I would never have pegged this guy as someone to watch out for.

What could he have possibly done to demand the attention of three cop cars and what looked to be five officers? They didn’t even appear to be in a hurry to get him out of the car, search him, cuff him, or whatever else they do. From my admittedly very limited perspective, this guy got pulled over for a traffic stop and because he was black they called for back-up. Of course I have no actual idea what happened or why he was pulled over, but I do know that I have seen this scene play out more than once and never with a white guy behind the wheel.

Life can be so beautiful and perfect and everything can seem to be a little brighter and happier and then in a moment your whole outlook is thrown on its head. Maybe this guy was a drug dealer who stole that car and the girl was his hooker and they were carrying smack and guns and who knows what else, but maybe we’re just a bunch of assholes who read too much into cultural differences and not enough into common sense. I just wanted one night’s drive to be as perfect as it felt, and instead the ugliness of real life came crashing in on my perfection. I hope that guy was a criminal, because I’d hate to think he and his girl missed that moon and beautiful vanilla sky because they were being hassled by some ignorant and misdirected power-hungry authority figures.

Day 354: Limping Along for Love

I wonder sometimes if I will hold up as a good partner to my husband. Mentally, I’m not worried. Despite my inherent crazy we are both intelligent people with a variety of interests. Emotionally, we’re all kind of fucked up so that’s a wash. What I’m really worried about is my health and my physical ability to be the kind of partner Jeff deserves. I cannot predict the future in general or even my state of mind from minute to minute, but I know that I always want to love this man and be happy and healthy enough to be what we need.

Physically, I’m old. My hands are arthritic and they hurt now almost constantly. The fingers began to gently lean to the sides a decade ago and are now even more pronounced. My neck and back have been chronically plagued with pain and stiffness since I was a teen and that contributes largely to my frequent headaches. I have weak ankles, aching feet and my eyesight’s not getting any better. For all I know, I could be on the path to MS or some other physical disability that limits our active life together.

It’s hell getting old, but it’s worse when you enter into it with physical ailments and limitations already looming over your head well before their time. Jeff is an active man and aside from a few back problems due largely to jumping out of planes for a living, he’s going to want to be active for a long time and if I can’t even grip the reins, how am I going to ride along? I’m not prone to sickness, but my muscular-skeletal system is crap and I know it. It hurts now to type this, sometimes it hurts just doing my hair. It might be a long ugly road, or at least one paved with bad hair days. Damn Jeff and his perfect eyesight!

Day 353: Do Something; Be Alive!

I feel overwhelmed by the seriousness of reality. Most people I know are so consumed with simply living their lives, raising their kids and watching crappy reality TV that there is little time to ponder politics, war, environment and animal abuse. I tend to obsess over the issues and global tragedies . . . in between watching crappy TV (though not reality based). It’s overwhelming, this impact that events around the world have the potential to inflict. My life is so insignificant in comparison, but after long periods of alternately obsessing over my own emotional state and the state of the world I really just need some mashed potatoes and a good book.

What is our responsibility in the world? We can’t force other people to be active or to get involved, but we can do everything possible to make them aware. Then again, that can come off as pushy or pompous. I remember what it was to grow up in a household that was so stretched to the limit that there was no room for anything else. My Mother was poor, she worked full time, raised two kids, had a constantly broken down car and felt poorly much of the time. At what point was she supposed to start a letter writing campaign, volunteer, or march on Washington?

I cannot in good conscience call my friends or family willfully ignorant because they make their priorities those issues that affect their daily lives. I do not know what it is to be them or to deal with what they must face. We all have our own path to walk and for some of us that means we will champion causes and action, for others it means writing checks and calling it helping, and for still others it means just getting by the best they can.

The current state of the world is this: worst ecological man-made disaster in history (oil spill), war, terrorism, extreme poverty, starvation, natural disasters, drug cartel violence, humanitarian violations, genocides, child abuse, animal abuse, and on and on. The current state of the average person is work, bills, kids, house, marriage, errands, and very little sleep. There is not much room for overlap in that equation. Do the best that you can. Read the paper or watch real news now and again and try to make an effort to be active in at least one thing that you believe in. We can’t all save the world, I know I can’t, but I can try to make a difference in whatever way fits with my life. The husband goes to war; I protest war. We each do what we feel is best and if we can get every citizen of the world to just champion one cause they feel connected to, it will be enough. Be active. Be aware. Be alive.

Day 352: My Right, May be Your Wrong

What is wrong and right? You hear it all the time. People talk about doing the “right thing” or knowing the difference between right and wrong and yet if it is so cut and dry why do we not have a clearer guidance on knowing what is right and what is wrong.

I think a popular gauge is based on religious morality. People look to their church and religious belief system to help them identify the right or wrong paths. Unfortunately, this is just another shade of gray, not a clear answer and it only works for those firm believers in that one specific religion. For example if we have five religions based on five varying philosophies, then in essence we have five Gods, but since each of these five religions claim there is only one God, we know that cannot be true. It must hold true then, that at least four of those religions are wrong in some part and following their guidelines to the letter may not actually lead you to the righteous path.

In many cases right is different depending on the person and his or her situation. A starving person might believe it is just for him to steal fruit or bread to help feed himself and his family, whereas a well-fed person with no worries about where his next meal will come from might sit in his pew and judge all stealing to be equally wrong. What is right for a child, might be different than for an adult. Wrong in the sense of business ethics does not necessarily equal a wrong to a farmer. The rich and the poor might view right and wrong with different lenses and those of us without any religion at all will have to get our ethical belief system from somewhere else entirely.

What is wrong for one person might not be wrong for another. There are shades of gray as I’m fond of saying and to judge the actions of another person by any one set of standards is not fair. We all have to decide on a code to live by and that code must balance what is good for the many with what is right for the individual. I believe it is impossible to live a life in which no one ever gets hurt. The truth hurts sometimes, lies hurt, life is complicated and we are prone to failures and mistakes. Even the very best and wisest will live a life that at some point conflicts with the needs of someone else. So who is wrong and who is right?

To trust some religions is to injure other people. Is it okay to shun certain people because of their sexual orientation or cultural heritage? Is sex before marriage really wrong? Can something that is right for you, be wrong for someone else that you care about? I am so tired from all the accusations and finger pointing over right and wrong. We need to live our lives to the best of our abilities and “right” should be defined as that which does as little harm to others as possible. It is inevitable that at some point we will hurt another person, but to me the more valid argument is if the injury was inflicted purposefully or if the wronged party was just an unfortunate consequence.

I don’t want to judge you and I do not want to be judged. I just want to be able to live my life the way I need to for me and hopefully in a way that has limited collateral damage. What is right for you, may not be right for me. Please try to remember that I am human and I will make mistakes, but just like you I am doing my best to muddle through without causing you too much pain or destroying myself along the way. It is not easy, and I will make mistakes, but just as I cannot always be right, I cannot live my life for you and by your code. I can only be me and that’s going to have to be enough.

Day 351: . . . Again

I wrote and posted my original day 351 and then did something I’ve never done before, I took it down. Generally, this blog serves as a sort of personal journal for me and my exploration of self-discovery. Sometimes, however, I go a little too far and the other day I crossed a line even I was uncomfortable with. It’s not that anything I write is untrue or that I do not believe is valid, but I do recognize that I’m not always able to adequately convey my true sentiments in my writing. Tone does sometimes get lost in the writing and what is left comes across in a way I never intended.

This is what separates the good writers. They are able to show the reader what is happening behind the action and plot points. Of course, this is a journal not a story so I do not always aspire to such heights, but I do realize that without proper context, what I write may not accurately reflect the truth. My habit has always been to trust that as long as what I write is the truth there is validity in it, but I suppose even I have limits.

Consequently, I am taking a few days to reflect on what I’ve written, what I’ve learned and where I want to go. The blog will be officially over in two weeks and I want to make sure that I have stayed true to my original intent. Therefore, I am taking it a little slower and ensuring that what I write in these final days are words I really want to stand behind. This is the only journal I have ever managed to stay with beyond a few days and I’d like it to be real straight through to the end. Even so, I do realize that just because something is true, that does not mean I should put it out into the world. See, I have a filter . . . sort of.

Day 350: What Would You Do?

Tonight while I was unpacking from the recent move I turned the TV on. It was more for background noise than to watch, but I happened to turn it on right in the middle of a show called “What Would You Do?” The premise of the show is one I remember from Dateline or one of those other evening news magazine type shows. If you are not familiar with the set up, an easy way to describe it is to say that it is basically the principle by which I live my life.


You likely know me if you are reading this and to know me is to know that I have a big mouth and a penchant for stirring things up. If I see someone that I perceive as needing help I will offer, likewise, if I see a person who needs someone to tell them to take a flying leap, I’ll do that too. The show hides cameras and hires actors to portray situations of varying controversial nature to uncover how average Americans will react. The most common reaction is none and the people confronted afterward all say the same thing, “It was none of our business.”


Well, I believe we are all interconnected so when something I feel unjust happens, it is my business and I have no hesitation taking care of it. Sometimes this backfires or is misguided as it was the sunny afternoon when I saw one man getting a little roughed up by another and decided to step in and ask if the guy needed help. Both men happened to be black and to me that does not make any difference, but on the show it often does. Well, in my instance, one of the men happened to be an undercover cop arresting an alleged criminal. Still, I wasn’t embarrassed and I’d do it again. It was not the first time I’d miscalculated.


I also told some guy off who I overhead berated his elderly mother while walking down the street. What I did not hear and was informed of by the husband, was the same guy telling his Mother that she had to stop getting drunk all the time, that it was killing her and he couldn’t take care of her by himself anymore. That was a bit embarrassing I suppose, but still, you only have one Mother (usually) and telling her to “straighten the fuck up” sounds harsh to me.


There are also times when I’ve gotten it right. I do not let parents rough up their children in front of me. If I see children ganging up on another child I will tell them to stop lest they want to deal with me. Once on the L train coming in from Brooklyn I witnessed a man verbally berate his wife or girlfriend while she cried. My biggest concern at that point was that if I said something he would take it out on her later and more harshly than usual, yet I could not in good conscience let it go. I told him to leave her alone and to try picking on someone who was willing to fight back. He then got in my face, this six foot plus man yelling at me and calling me names while his first victim stood in tears trying to shrink into the corner. No one else on that busy train said a word.


The world is full of people who are only too happy to point out their moral sense of right and wrong and yet it seems when offensive controversial behavior is the target it is suddenly no one’s business. Do not preach your religion or moral code to me if you feel it’s okay to stand idly by while an injustice unfolds directly in front of you. Sometimes doing the right thing means taking a risk or even physically putting yourself in harm’s way, but it does not mean it is no less the right thing. We need less people minding their own business and more people minding what is kind and ethical. How many times have you seen something you felt was unjust happen and wish later you’d have stepped in? Well, I don’t ever want to be that person, so I always step in and sometimes I step in it, but I never, ever regret it.

Day 349: Do it for the Love of Chips and Salsa!

There was a story in the press tonight about the recent resignations of Mexican police in towns threatened by cartels or actually hurt in attacks. Mexico, our direct neighbor to the south, is reverting to the days we know as the Wild West and what are we doing? We are attempting to lock down the border to keep the criminal element out of our country. It is not that easy and we are hiding our heads in the sand if we think we have no obligation to help or at the very least, offer compassion.

Of course, many of you will say that we cannot police the world and that we have our problems to deal with and you will be right. The U.S. is not a humanitarian organization, it is a nation with plenty of struggles on its own soil. Of course this has never stopped us from butting into other places if we felt our own interests were threatened. We can pretty it up however we like, but there is a long history of American intervention when we want or need something and usually we do it under the guise of liberation or humanitarian aide.

It is nearly impossible to extricate our own history and culture from that of Mexico. Our two nations, similar to our close relationship with Canada, enjoy a somewhat symbiotic relationship. Tourism, goods and services, and international friendship have enabled us to enjoy the benefits of Mexico including its beautiful coastline and rich cultural legacy. Let’s also not forget burritos, refritos and guacamole! I would be nothing without these three most important staples to my weekly diet. (Well, I’d be skinnier and maybe less gassy, but also much less satiated.)

So now we have thugs taking over entire towns in Mexico and what is our response? We pass legislation like the vile Arizona law. Mexico isn’t our problem, so let’s just shut them out and turn our backs. Oh wait, Iraq wasn’t our problem either, but we needed to “liberate” them. The Holocaust didn’t seem to bother us either until Japan got us involved and then suddenly we were devastated by the atrocities suffered by the Jews and their friends. I think it is pretty clear we are selfish and never do anything unless it directly benefits us, so maybe that’s what we need to think about with Mexico. I, for one, do not want to lose access to some really great beach resorts, local cuisine and authentic margaritas. Can’t we drum up some legitimate self-preserving reason to want to “protect” Mexico and stop being so un-neighborly?

If you don’t want the current and surely escalating violence of Mexico to spill over into the states, then let’s support our continental roomie. Rather than build a wall to keep “those people” out, let’s work with Mexico to drive the bad element back. We will never be able to adequately secure our borders to the extent that violence or gang/cartel activity will never touch us here so is it not better to take the fight to the source? Our law enforcement will not resign because of hostile actions, they will be supporting by state or national governmental agencies.

We can use this opportunity to help Mexico and to preserve what is good about our own immigrant history. I really do believe that we have a humanitarian obligation to assist, but if that doesn’t fry your chimichanga then commit to the selfish notion that if we don’t help, the next time you’re lounging on a Mexican beach with a cerveza you could be killed by a drug lord with a bad attitude and no law enforcement to keep him in check. I really like beaches and beer so let’s lend a hand, okay?

Day 348: When Did We All Grow Up and Why Didn't I Notice?

It seems to be a cliché, but one that is true nevertheless, that when parents divorce the non-custodial parent often sees the children as forever young. No one ever grows up and the memories of the family remain trapped in a time that once was. My own memories of my extended family are like that to some extent. The happiest times of my childhood revolve around big family celebrations, and my memories of my cousins, aunts and uncles imprison them as ghosts from the past rather than as they now are. I wonder if I hold onto these images from happier times because I do not want to acknowledge the changes we’ve all experienced or if I’m just lazy?

For some of them it’s easy to picture them the same way. Bernie is the eternal optimist and friend to everyone, just as she was when we were all younger. Rachel is still close to her parents and walks to the beat of her own drummer, a trait I am no stranger to myself. Aunts Dee and Cookie are still the caretakers, as alike in their eternal need to nurture as they are opposite in almost every other characteristic. Then there are the family members who look the same to me, despite huge changes. Blindness, an M.D., major lifestyle choices, and geographical distances that keep us from interacting for a decade at a time are the realities regardless of my time-warped memories.

As we get older, life does not actually become more complicated, we just become more aware of the inherent complications of reality. Divorces, births, family feuds, they all happen and yet for me I still see Christmas wish lists written of pieces of paper and thrown into a stocking before each name is drawn in secret and guilty laughter in the basement of the funeral home the day of Grandpa Jim’s memorial. Jimmy may live far enough away that I never see him and Dana, Donna, Bernie, Kim, Dani may all have families of their own and complex lives that I know nothing about, but they are also just teenagers in my mind.

I’ve lost my connection to the family to an extent. The mother is the keeper of family doings, and mine gone as is the link to the family grapevine. Still, it’s more than that. I like remembering them as they once were. I love them because they are family and we grew up knowing one another. Knowing them as adults might inspire similar loyalty and sentiment, but it might also create unwanted distance. No one wants to deal with the fact that I am an atheist any more than I want to deal with the individual family dramas, but that’s not always an option. I like knowing what is happening in their lives and wish I had more communication than I do, but I also don’t want to forget where we all came from.

I doubt we’d all be friends if we were not family, so maybe sometimes it is better to remember our roots and allow our love for one another to trump our sensibilities. We do not need to like one another’s lifestyles, partners, morals, or belief systems to love and respect one another. Having an opportunity to rediscover my family now that we are all adults is teaching me an important lesson about making an effort. It’s not enough to just say you love someone you also need to show an interest in his or her life and get to know that person as they now are. This doesn’t mean I’m going to agree with or like everything, but it does mean that I can love the childhood memory and know the adult reality.

Day 347: Gravity is Sometimes a Very Good Thing

I have a song running through my head that is a melancholy tune about love and loss. For three days I have been singing, humming and listening to this song without a clear sense of why I am so fixated. Today I think I found the answer and it was not what I expected.

The sad love song is a goodbye to a life that I used to live. I have been a mostly unhappy person throughout my adolescence and adult life. Love affairs gone wrong, friendships betrayed, loss of life, and a general sort of ugh factor that seems to follow me about. The last two years have been especially difficult. The husband and I have been through some incredibly trying times. I’ve heard people say that when times are tough it either pulls two people apart or pushes them together. Well, it did both to us and now, finally, I feel that life is as it should be again. We are strong and united and that sad love song in my head? It’s the end of the sad love stories of my life.

This week I said goodbye to an apartment that was never Jeff’s and that never felt like he was a part of it. Moving into this new space that we found and planned for together was a catharsis for all the leftover pain and issues we’d been dragging around for two years. I am a lucky woman. I found a man who understands me, and what’s more, he understands that as long as you have love and a desire to keep working, you have a chance. We saved ourselves through each other and now I get to say goodbye once again to the music of heartbreak and to focus instead, on positive and upbeat.

The feelings I have now are so similar to the ones I had when we first met. I am hopeful and a little foolish. All relationships and marriages have trying times and ours was no worse or better, but what we always manage to maintain is our love for one another. No one is keeping me down and that gravity I feel, is a joyful tumbling into the best phase of my life. We are not always aware when we are lucky or experiencing something that will change our lives in a wonderful way, but this time I am fully aware and I get to experience happiness as it unfolds. So thanks for running through my mind Sara Bareilles, but I don’t need you anymore, I got the message and I think I’ll embrace my gravity.

Day 346: Forgetting Yesterday is Sometimes A Good Thing

Today should actually be day 347, but I abandoned last night’s blog after three choppy and confusing paragraphs on the grounds that I was severely impaired. The specific impairment was alcohol induced and by the time I got to the blog I could barely type, though I after a quick reread this morning it turns out that I corrected all of my spelling and grammatical mistakes. What could not be fixed, however, was the content. Funny how something that seems so important to us when we are under the influence can actually be the most pointless of arguments.

We lost our car last night for the second time in six weeks. It was also the second time in the same time frame that we got drunk. We are not big drinkers or partyers generally, so even twice in six weeks is considered frequent for us these days. Perhaps this is why, when we do imbibe, we are unable to do so without major mishap. Looking back on it I’d say it was a comedy of errors as only the Bramlines can do it, but at the time it seemed dire.

Jeff was mad at me and I was mad at him – though I do not recall being cross with him, that intel comes from him and what I tried to write last night. We lost my phone, our keys, the security fob to get into our apartment, and yes, we once again lost our car. I don’t exactly know what our problem is, but it’s like we’re reliving our 20’s only as a couple. Who, at 37, gets so drunk you lose you car . . . twice?

Since going vegan, I have mostly lost my urge to drink beyond one glass of wine or a bit of scotch, but when I do drink it’s to an excess that clearly leads to poor decision making. Last night’s attempt at a blog was some sort of rant at the husband, because I am a truly horrible drunk who feels it appropriate to pick fights with pretty much everyone. I am going to skip last night and save myself an irritated husband. Oddly enough, I don’t remember being annoyed or mad at him (despite it being his fault we lost the car). I remember loving him and wanting to snuggle, then again I also remember thinking it was a good idea to tell some random guy on the street that he had Bozo hair. My judgment when I am sober is often questionable, while intoxicated it is on par with a K-Fed era Britney Spears. I’m a drunken idiot y’all! Ugh.

Day 345: Having Your Back Against the Wall Isn't All Bad

As I was making my bed up for the first night in the new place I started thinking about the fact that I do not prefer a particular side. I haven’t done a scientific poll or anything, but I am under the impression that most people definitely keep to one side of the bed.  I actually prefer the middle, but have found that to be problematic for whoever is lucky enough to be in bed with me (read: the husband). I am able to choose one side consistently, but as soon as we move I frequently switch my preference. So tonight I am wondering why this is when others seem to be a firm lefty or righty sleeper. The answer I’m coming back with, is not a surprise, except in the fact that it never occurred to me before. I like to sleep close to the door because I hate feeling trapped.

I’m not claustrophobic, though I confess to not loving tight spaces when surrounded by others. My issue is really more about feeling compelled to always have an exit close at hand. In restaurants, I like to sit with my back to the wall so I can see the doors. On planes, I pay attention to where the exits are and I count the rows in front of and in back of me to the nearest exists. In conversations, I tend to take the lead lest I get stuck in a discussion that either makes me uncomfortable or that I know nothing about. And when it comes to sleeping, I choose whichever side is closest to the door.

I don’t know when this fear of losing control started, I certainly do not recall worrying about such things as a child or teen, but as an adult it is a constant part of my thought process. I hate to rely on others to drive and so I always offer to do this task, including with the husband. When we travel to cities not equipped with adequate public transportation I insist on renting a car. I prefer hotels to staying in people’s homes and I hate rooms in the middle of a long hallway.

My fear of living in the middle states or cities without decent airports, public transportation or along the coast gnaws away at me and plays into my ability to be happy in a particular place. I need exits because I am a runner and there is a comfort in knowing that I am never trapped. New York was perfect for me in this way. Trains and cabs run 24 hours a day, there are three major airports nearby and it is surrounded by water. I felt free in NY and for a while I slept wherever I landed (in more ways than one), but I slept well many nights and I was happy.

Maybe I’ll never get over this need to keep my back to the wall and my exits in front of me, but then we all do what we need to, don’t we? I think there’s been some growth. I got married (which does still terrify me at times), I allow the husband’s job to dictate where we will live . . . mostly, and the last couple of times we’ve stayed with his family without a rental I have only mildly freaked out. Maybe I will never win against this need of mine or then again, maybe winning is acknowledging and giving yourself what you need to be happy. If all it takes for me, is a door, then I’d say I’m not doing too badly.

Day 344: When You Label Me, I Take it as a Compliment

A friend who commented on yesterday’s blog, mentioned the persistence some people (myself included) have with the use of labeling to describe people. While there was a time in my life when I too believed labels to be limiting. Fortunately, I threw out my hippie skirts, starting shaving again and allowed myself the freedom to just not really like the Grateful Dead or Phish. These days I believe in labels if only because I don’t see a way around them. I agree, they can be harmful or limiting if used with malice or bias, but they can also just be a part of our culture that is as inescapable as a Spring shower.

Try to describe someone you know without using labels. Aren’t adjectives just a more generic label? Even someone like me, who routinely defies any logical category is an “iconoclast” or “contradictory.” While those labels are far less narrowly defined than say calling someone a prude or a snob, the same principle applies. I think all of us carry a multitude of labels. No one is solely one thing and that is where the negativity comes in. To describe a woman as “just a housewife” is to ignore that she is also a wife or mother, master multi-tasker, closet alcoholic, fabulous cook, painter, amateur mechanic, etc., you get the idea.

When we speak of labeling someone, we often assume this to be a bad thing. In my blog, it might have had a bit of that edge to it, but the real implication is that to assume any one of us is only one thing is to blind ourselves to our true nature. I am just as guilty as the next judgmental fool who might deem someone a jackhole or airhead, but it should be assumed that this label is only in reference to limited contact.

So why not embrace our labels? Should we not aspire to be as many things as we can be? I am a woman, wife, loudmouth, sports aficionado, sentimentalist, cynic, baker, cat lover, friend, iconoclast, liberal, writer, teacher, student, bitch, lover, volunteer, snob, humanist, singer, drinker, liar, truth-seeker, and yes, I am also a labeler. Without those labels, I might not be able to discover everything that I am and want to be. So go ahead, judge me, I take pride in being a person defined not by a single label, but by them all.

Day 343: Don't Let the Facts Fool You, I'm Not Housewife Material

I have been living a lie and it is slowly killing me. These last two years I have moved three times and been mostly unemployed. From all outside appearances, I am the thing I was never meant to be: I am a housewife. Gasp! Now before you all start jumping down my throat about being judgmental again, let me clarify that I am not insinuating that housewifery is bad, just that I am not suited for that role in the least.

First off, I’m bad at it. I hate to clean and rarely do it. Consequently, there is no five second rule in my house. If you drop it, it will likely be covered in cat hair so I don’t recommend putting it in your mouth, in fact, picking it up at all is somewhat optional. I like clutter and despite my recent determination to achieve that empty backpack, I am still living the life of a 18-piece mismatched set of luggage. I don’t have any children, which is usually a prerequisite for the housewives club and finally, I’m not really gossipy, garden-friendly, or fond of The View.

I like having someplace to go in the mornings. That wonderful feeling of accomplishment when you’ve put in a long day or finished a big project is something laundry just does not give me. I like having lunch at the office or drinks after work. I even miss my morning commute – though I will admit that the current commute of padding from bed to kitchen in PJ’s and slippers is pretty awesome. Still, I miss the purpose of work outside the home and the built-in excuse for why the house isn’t clean. (Too busy! Rough week at work! I consider the office my home!)

All this wouldn’t be so terrible if it weren’t for the fact that I have traced my current housewife status to the reason I am so cranky and depressed of late. It hit me with all the subtlety of Ann Coulter’s penis envy, I hate being a housewife and I’m taking it out on everyone I know. It may come as no surprise to you that I have a certain gift for being a bitch. What can I say, I go with what I know. Anyway, after practically eviscerating the husband via an ill-timed phone conversation Friday I started to trace back over what is happening in my life and I finally figured it out.

Shockingly, even after a year of self-immersion via this blog, copious amounts of wine, scotch and Jack, and more alone time than even I ever wanted I still didn’t really see it coming. Up until now, I contented myself with the belief that a job offer would come any day now. Well, that just isn’t really happening. Temp jobs and freelance gigs do not a career make and the reality is, like it or not, I’m a damn housewife. I even bake and take my treats into the husband’s office. I might as well don and apron and Tivo “Army Wives.”

Though I guess it’s not too late. I have identified and admitted the problem after all, so a cure should be just around the corner, right? Well, considering that a cure will require a full-time job offer, maybe not, but if I stay alert and understand why I am moody and acting out maybe I can overcome this affliction. My greatest fear is that I will wake up in five years to discover that I actually enjoy cleaning and that nothing pleases me more than knowing my darling husband sincerely enjoyed tonight’s dinner. Never mind, I don’t really think that’s a possibility, my excessive four-letter vocabulary doesn’t really shout Domestic Goddess, more like “fucking clean it up yourself!” You can’t change your nature and the housewife just isn’t in mine.

Day 342: Moving Away From the Self and the Selfish

On Thursday of this week I am moving to a new place. The move itself, as anyone could guess, is a hassle. Boxes, packing, cleaning, unpacking, disposing of boxes, cleaning and sheer exhaustion will be my world for the next week. What I find to be rewarding about moving, is the opportunity to reexamine one’s life.

We move fairly frequently, so there are never any big surprises, but with each move I begin to sort through and to dispose of items that are no longer critical to my lifestyle. It is actually quite amazing to discover how much we do not need, but that we keep anyway. As a life-long packrat this might be more of a problem for me, but there is a sense of emotional security as well and this experience is teaching me that it is not only things that feed my need for consumption, but places and particular connections to items.

My current apartment is symbolic of a transitional point in my life. I moved to Charlotte, without really knowing anyone and the husband was in Iraq, so it was very much just about me. I found this place, I planned my move, I did the work to make it happen and I lived here alone for a year. Sitting on my balcony, looking out over the road below, I would sip wine and let the feeling of disconnectedness wash over me. This place both found and isolated me for a time and it’s a little sad now to say goodbye. It does feel a bit like a security blanket to me. It is my place, a geographic reclaiming of my independent self.

Moving to our new apartment I am very much aware that it is once again about a shared life. This will be OUR Charlotte apartment and even though Jeff will live in Ft. Bragg during the week, it is just as much his place. We found it together, planned the move together and will make it a home together. I would be lying if I said that there is a part of me that lingering in the sense of independence this current space represents. Not that I do not miss him when he’s not here, but it was interesting to have the time and quite literally, the space, to rediscover myself.

This blog was born here as was my current view of self. I think I found myself here and while life remains a struggle in the ways that we all clamber about, looking for happiness and health, I do feel very positive about what is to come. Oddly enough, nothing is physically going to change except for our address, but there is a sense for both the husband and I, that while this place is mine, the new place is ours. So I am saying to goodbye to my sanctuary, a place that both saved and damned me from time to time. I feel a new pressure to be somehow cured once we moved. It is time to divert my pursuits from the obsessive journey of self-discovery and rededicate to being a part of a team. I am excited for what is to come, but I’ll also cherish that time that I had to find myself all over again.

Day 341: An Apology to Moms, From the Bigmouth Who Put You Down

I’ve been rereading a lot of my old blogs and one of the recurrent themes that stuck out for me was the issue of motherhood. This is especially timely, given that today is Mother’s Day. It should be no secret to anyone who has read the blogs from the last couple of weeks that I’ve been a bit down and in somewhat of a snit. I get the blues, that’s not a shock, but it’s more than that. It’s Mother’s Day and this happens to be my least favorite holiday of the year.

It’s not that I need a special day to remember – or rather, miss – my Mother, it’s that this day is so pervasive that one cannot escape it’s grasp. All week, everywhere I went there were signs on doors announcing the revised business hours for Mother’s Day. Cards and specials on flowers stared me down at the grocery or Target. TV episodes aired special Mother’s Day tributes. Facebook took the holiday to a new level of viral as everyone sent a shout out to their Moms. I just wanted a place without a Mother, tribute to Mothers or gift ideas for Mothers. Unfortunately, this was not possible and no matter how I tried to hide, I still had to plan and send a gift to my Mother-in-law and make the “Happy Mother’s Day” phone call.

So it’s been a shitty run up to this day and it weighed on me in ways I didn’t see until I forced myself. Lot’s of people have lost loved ones and they manage to be normal or even pleasant, but I am cranky and moody and even judgmental and it’s unfair. This is my apology to all those Moms out there that I insulted with comments about “breeders” and “pedestrian lives” and normalcy. While the traditional family route is not a path I want to take, there is no excuse for me taking out my own grief at losing my Mother on those people who do this incredibly difficult and often thankless job.

Most of you are Moms and I have looked at your photos on Facebook and read your updates about your kids. I love seeing who you’ve become and getting to know those little people that you are raising. Regardless of how I feel about having or raising children of my own, I do support Mothers and I know that it is never an easy job. So if nothing else, I hope you all accept my apology if I ever made it seem like what you do does not matter or is not valuable. I can’t name you all, but to my aunts and cousins who I know to be exceptional Mothers, I’m sorry. To Jenni, Colleen, Shauna, Jenn, Kris, Michelle, Wendy, Jennifer, Shelly, Jena and all the rest of you: thank you for all that you do.

The world does not need more people in general, it needs more caring, intelligent, and nurturing people and you are all doing your part to raise them. I have a big mouth and my emotional outbursts that are better left to a personal journal often get channeled into my public blog. None of you deserve to feel like what you are doing is not vital because I’m having a bad day. I see you. I see all of you and I know that you ARE making a difference every single day that you manage to look into the faces of your complaining, ungrateful children and not get in the car and drive to Mexico. Thanks for having the patience and the love to be Moms, because the world needs you and so do I.

Day 340: Shouldn't We All be "Fixer-Uppers"?

Alright, so I write one damn blog about feeling like my life is falling apart and now I’ve got friends coming out of the woodwork trying to “fix” it. I know I’m no stranger to unhappiness, negativity or complaining, but give a woman a break! I do recognize that life holds many positive and beautiful things and that my life is full of things for which to be grateful. Even so, please do not feel that you need to tell me of my many blessings. I’d rather you simply shake your head in scorn and talk about me behind my back.

Don’t presume to tell me that I should be happy or feel blessed. I see the good, I’m not that selfish or ungrateful, but I also realize that there are people in the world (many of whom I know) who have had ridiculous good luck and fortunate turns of event. Some people are just luckier than others and some people are not as introspective or analytical. Maybe I just analyze the details more, maybe I worry more, maybe I’m just fucking exhausted at worrying and working and never getting ahead. I am not one of the masses who is content to get married young, have children, work my ass off and die with nothing to show for it but a pedestrian life.

I hate the ordinary. Which is not to say that plenty of you with what can be considered typical lives are not extraordinary. I have family members who work, marry, breed, have picket fences, etc., but who have also overcome extraordinary circumstances or raised children who turn out to be remarkable people. I realize that from what appears to be “normal” can come the amazing. I also know that I don’t want to be in a position to be the exception or mired in the middle. I have always longed for something different, so when I complain about the path I am on, it’s not because my life is so bad, it’s that my life is so normal.

We all need different things to thrive. For some, it’s the sweet smile of their child, the loving embrace of their partner, or flourishing flowers in their garden, but for me it is and always has been something outside of the ordinary. That is not to say that one is better than the other, but our needs are different and what I need is not happening for me, hence the feeling that life is getting away from me.

So please do not feel the need to tell me it will get better or to count my blessings. I get that and understand the good, I just want more and quite frankly, so should you. Why is “more” considered too much? Just because I am not satisfied with my life does not mean there is something wrong with me, maybe there is something wrong with those of you who are content. Life is not something to be endured or survived, we should be perpetually striving for more because comfortableness leads to complacency.

Yes, life has its ups and downs and I have plenty of wonderful people and things in my life, those are not things I want to change so I don’t feel the need to dwell on them. No, I obsess, point out and lament those aspects of my life that I am unhappy with, because for me that is how I will know what to change and overcome. I have weak moments like everyone, I just make mine public, because that is how I dispel the negative energy. Think of me as a sort of catch and release emotional vessel who picks up negative energy along the way and instead of internalizing it, I let it out. I know I’ll be fine and my road may never be the fortunate path, but it’s mine and I’m navigating the best I can.