How it really is

Just so we are clear, it's not all doom and gloom. I'm not all doom and gloom.

The thing is that with everything I've been through, I had to learn to feel what I was feeling... and I had to be ok with whatever it was and whenever it was. And I talk about it when I'm feeling it, because it's very likely that later I won't be feeling that way.

But if I don't express it...  Well, it builds up. Just like a poison. Just like pressure in a volcano. Until it explodes. So I vent it off and I sound ridiculous and whiney and *very* sad. Mainly because I am at that point and time. But that's not really me. My base emotion is not a negative one. My main attitude is positive, and I'm normally hopeful for the future.

Unfortunately, I blog through the bad times. Blogging is how I get it out-- because I want to get through/past those emotions, which means it sounds like I'm constantly sad and dealing with hard stuff on my blog.

Plus who wants to read about the 3 hours I spent yesterday playing a Lego Harry Potter Wii game? That's boring as all get out.

And do you really want up to the minute info on my hair- (I somehow got it to hold itself up, and now I am afraid to move my head for fear it will fall. See now, isn't that the height of interest?)

I'm reading Brené Brown's book (The Gifts of Imperfection) and there is a lot of great stuff in it, but right now I just finished a section about "numbing and leaning into the pain." It's actually really great cause that's how I try to live. I try to numb as little as possible (everyone numbs things, but if you numb your bad feelings you are also numbing your good feelings) and I do lean into the pain though I never called it that before... because if you lean into it then you get past it, faster. At least I do.

Unfortunately for those of you who read my blog, my leaning shows up on here a lot. So I guess, what I'm saying, is, yeah, pray for me (and if you want to get specific- pray for a tallish, darkish, and handsomeish gentleman to sweep me off my feet.) But try not to worry about me too badly... I'm actually doing well... I think I'm in the healthiest place emotionally that I have been since Nathan died. I have silly crushes and serious crushes and super close friendships and regular type friendships. I've got plans for the future and back-up plans for the future and I'm overcoming a lot of fears that I once had and used Nathan to take care of for me. All in all, I've come back into my own.

Do I feel like something's missing?

Of course. Because something is.

But that doesn't mean I don't lead a great life. And it doesn't mean that I'm sad and mopey and miserable all the time.

Cause I'm just not.

Oh, and Merry Christmas. :)

A Jackal Story

I was downtown tonight. My friend Kara T. (Not to be confused with Kara G who I've been known to wax eloquent about on occasion.) wanted to go see Hunger Games. I wasn't that thrilled to do so, but I don't mind having at least a passing knowledge of this trend though I don't have any plans to actually read the books. My distaste for distopias is probably fodder for a different blog but suffice it to say, I really don't care for them. So a few hours at a movie is about all I can or want to handle to gain this knowledge.

But the important thing is that we went to the Hollywood Theatre downtown. *sigh* I really like downtown but it sure does bring out the worst in society and tell them to go ahead and just be themselves.

So we left the theater at midnight and our car was in a parking lot across the street.

I was wearing a black skirt and a gray t-shirt-like top. (Though I had a jogging jacket over it) I had on black wedges and my hair was in three buns at the nape of my neck. This was my outfit all day long. (Also I always wear shorts under a skirt unless the skirt is floor length, because it just makes me feel more at ease.)

So as we approached the corner of the street to get to the parking lot where our car was, some dude yelled out his window, "Hey, no prostitution!"

 I wanted to yell back, "Hey, no idiocy!"

I didn't.

What a Jackal. (Jackal is not the animal that starts with "jack" that I want to call him, but I'm a good girl, I am!)

It does make me feel better to think how bad he would feel if he could somehow emotionally connect to the fact that he just called a 28 year old widow a prostitute because she happened to be crossing a street with a skirt and heels on.

I don't have much respect for him, but I have to believe that somewhere under that jerky exterior is a boy who his mother loves... who probably has a sensitive side and loves his dog... or will love his kids... or was bullied in school. He yelled to prove to his girlfriend that he wasn't checking me out, or to show off to his buddies, or because he has the worst sense of humor in the world. He forgot that the person he was yelling at was a human being, because we are all so wrapped up in the drama of our own life we forget that just because we don't know them doesn't mean they aren't flesh and blood... 

But we are. If I could have I would have yelled, "Hey! I was a virgin on my wedding day. I stood by my husband's side through 16 months of cancer. I took care of him through much of it. I live in a world without him there every. single. day. I don't deserve your cruelty." And I kinda hope that someday God lets the jackal know who he was yelling at.

But that's up to God, not me.

And so, after my little venting blog, I'll forgive him. That kind of bitterness will only serve to hurt me... it's possible he has already forgotten.

*sigh* Turning the other cheek is not easy to do.

Patience is a virtue.

Patience is a virtue-- one that I'm likely to eschew.

But I shouldn't.



I think I have found where I'm going to move-- and it may even be as early as the end of March. Here's the most exciting thing- There is a garage. A garage, I say! I've never had a garage before. I've always had to scrape ice and snow off my car... except when Nathan scraped the ice and snow off my car, but I won't have to do that if I get one of these... it's an exotic luxury- to me, at least.

I want to move now, but none of my things are packed... I hear patience is a virtue.



My cold is not gone.

I'm ready for it to be gone.

but I once heard that patience is a virtue...



I'm looking for the sparkle... What is "the sparkle" you ask? Well, it's that flurry of emotions in your stomach when you see the other person. It's the shot of adrenaline... it's the ability to have comfortable silence rather than awkward silence. It's the dovetail of your senses of humor, it's the conversations that flow naturally... It's having a crush but still being able to talk to the person like they are normal. It's the je ne sais quoi that just works and you aren't really sure why or how. And it's the other person feeling it and recognizing it.

Accept no substitutions, exchanges, or refunds...

And don't accept anything if it isn't there.

The thing is I can list off a million things I find attractive... but even if a guy has all of them, if the sparkle isn't there... it doesn't matter. And a guy can be the opposite of all the things I find attractive, but if the sparkle is there, none of it matters.

So really, what I'm looking for is completely intangible... it just is..... or it isn't.

*sigh* Patience is a virtue, which I simply can't eschew sometimes.

The end of an era

Well, it's over. After sitting down and watching the entire Dawson's Creek Disc 4 in a single marathon session, it's all over.

Sad thing is that I actually finished the show I was watching on instant queue today, too. So not one, but two casts of characters have now left my life. And I'm not happy with the way things ended.

I read somewhere recently that people who watch TV are less lonely because the tv characters start to feel like real people that you know and spend time with. They start to feel like friends (albeit really bad friends who are so wrapped up in their own drama it's like you don't even exist to them)

Maybe that explains why as soon as I finished the last instant queue episode this afternoon I immediately called Kara to see what she was up to and why this evening after finishing Dawson's Creek I directly went to skype to talk to another friend without passing go or collecting 200 dollars.

I haven't seen anyone in two days... I'm going a little stir crazy but I put away and did a lot of laundry today.

I used up a lot of Kleenex in that last episode... Can I still say that I'm not normally emotional even when it feels like I cry all the time in comparison to what I used to? I swear people who meet me now probably think I'm like this hyper-emotional yet totally unaware of how emotional she is fruit basket...

But I swear, my emotions are actually starting to level out... series finales not withstanding :)

Emotions vs Logic

Since the advent of working until 5 during the week my crazy sleep schedule has evened out a bit. With the inability to nap in the afternoon before needing to be places I have to go to bed earlier... so this whole 3 AM thing is not as happy as I'd like it to be. But a blogger must blog, and so blog I must.

So anyway. Emotions.

I've got 'em. Boy howdy, do I got em. And after last week I've been thinking. Last Wednesday was a hard day. So hard that I went to a friend's house just for the company. Let's call him Chuck.* Yes, it was a male friend, but he's like a cousin to me, so don't start gettin' any ideas. Men are comforting to me, remember? Plus this guy is about the lowest key person I know, so I didn't feel like I had to be on. I didn't have to entertain, I didn't have to be entertained, I just wasn't alone. I did this on purpose. Cause I knew at some point or another I was gonna feel it... and if I feel it when I'm alone I get so miserable and I don't have a place to go for comfort.

So there I was, tra la la, eating my salad, working on homework, and thinking... mainly just thinking, though, honestly. All day there was this cloud over my head. A huge stormhead that just made things dark  and threatening. So finally I'd had enough. I went chasing the storm. I went and read things we'd written. Things from last year. Things from 2 years ago. My thoughts, Nathan's thoughts, memories. And there it was. The breakdown I'd been feeling rising all day. So I read Nathan's words, "I'm alive" from this time last year and I read about what I thought was going to be our one lost year. And I cried because it was really our one last year and when it started hurting too bad I went and found Chuck and forced him into a teary hug and one of those awkward silences where you aren't really done hurting, but neither of you really know what to say either...

Then Chuck, bless him, tried to fill the silence...

Boys try to fix things. I think most of us are aware of this stereotype... They try to fix things and they are generally thinkers, not feelers. Well, in this situation the stereotype held true. He didn't know what to do, so he started to try and find a way to fix the situation. He can't really bring Nathan back, so the problematic element was that I knew what day it was. If I didn't know what day it was, I wouldn't be so sad. Did I have a calendar with all these anniversaries on it somewhere? Cause there seem to be a lot.

No, if I had a calendar with all this recorded I would be holding a ceremonial bonfire. And the reason why there are a lot? Well, these used to be celebration days... but more than that... Nathan was the most important thing in my life. I don't really mess around with loving someone. Everything I knew/was/did, was wrapped up in my love for this man. So I notice the passing of time without him. I remember the days that were significant to us. I remember the days that changed my life.

I mentioned the blogs, and Chuck found something to latch on to. I shouldn't read those things. Re-reading blogs isn't always a good idea at the best of times, much less the worst of times. And I admitted that maybe I shouldn't have done that... and by then my emotions were beginning to settle, and so I got distracted by a cool lamp and soon I could go back in the other room and entertain myself.

But here's where we get to the heart of the matter. Because after much thought, I believe that I did exactly what I should have done. My emotions are not the problem that needs to be fixed. My tears aren't the issue. The problem is that my husband died. Because of this, I have a lot of symptoms (emotions and tears) but the "fix" to the problem is healing. I have to heal. And sometimes the way to heal is to let yourself feel where it hurts- Which can cause tears.

The thing is that death causes emotions... and trying to ignore those emotions, or quash them when they do arise isn't healthy... it's (pardon the crass-ness of the analogy) emotional constipation. I don't dwell in my sadness... that's actually what I was trying to avoid by getting company for that night. Just hunkering down in my pain. So did I try to bring on a little bit of that breakdown? Yes. But it was like taking something that makes you throw up when you accidentally ingest poison. I knew I could cry, get my hug and my uncomfortable silence and then the dark cloud could pass. Last Thursday was 8 months... but it was ok... I think in no small part because I just face and deal with what I can when I can. When it hurts, I let it hurt. But when it's time to laugh... I laugh.

I'm not at all upset with my friend. I think that boys are taught to quash their emotions a lot more than girls are... especially country kids. He was actually trying to be helpful, because he cares about me which is in it's own way healing to me... and he helped me realize that sometimes I do act as though my tears are the problem, rather than the symptom. I'm still a country stoic at heart... and I don't want to freak people out, so I keep the sorrow hidden behind so many walls. But tears are cleansing, too. And I think I need to remember that as long as I stay open enough to notice the cool lamps and don't just set up camp in my sorrow, it's still ok to cry. You can't logic away emotions. But, if I can feel the emotions then I can release them, and trying to convince myself that this day or that day doesn't mean anything isn't going to do me any favors.

I just have to keep dealing with today. And forcing awkward silences on them.

*Chuck is not at all his real name, he just plays a bit of an antagonist in this particular story so I didn't want to use real names as he's actually a fabulous bloke, and not an antagonist at all.

Proudest moment?

Blogger has a brand new interface... I'm trying to get used to it. (Don't worry, it's not something you will see.)

It's a strange thing what a relief it is to see someone on a TV show who is on a ventilator *look* like they are on a ventilator. Makes me sad, but it doesn't make me angry... makes me feel like someone out there knows... or at least that they did their research. There are some things it is cruel to try and fake, and hospital scenes are one of them.

I was thinking today that I should send a thank you letter to Nathan's dr and nurses in St. Louis... I never actually did that, and they were so nice and kind to us.

I've been posed the question, "When you look back on your life, what are you the most proud of?" and I think that I'm too young to have something to be the most proud of, and then I remember I'm 28... and I think, "How have I not had something that I can definitively point to as my proudest thing?" and then I remember that I don't have children, and I've never had huge lofty dreams... just small simple ones... I lack ambition, you know.

I'm not sure how I've become so old and so young at the same time.... oh wait, maybe I do know... that stupid wolf, again.

I'm feeling contemplative... this is a dangerous place for me... Luckily, I have my handy dandy distractions all around me... Like the fact that my apartment desperately needs to be cleaned, and must be cleaned by  Sat, because the lovely Melissa is having a birthday party here that night.

Yes, apartment cleaning. That's precisely what I should be doing at 2 in the morning.

Then again, perhaps not.

A book elegantly bound

I've spent a good deal of time tonight reading folk tales from France and Germany. Germans are apparently much blood-thirstier than the French. But you want to know the real conclusion I have come to?? I'm a fairy tale nerd. There are all sorts of nerds in this world... Here's visual proof- There are Star Trek nerds, Star Wars Nerds, video game nerds, computer nerds, science fiction nerds, music nerds, Japanese nerds, ect. And I am a fantasy/fairy tale nerd. I love them. I get excited by adaptations of them, I find the differences in them in regards to culture fascinating. I just think they are great.

Went to dinner tonight with Katie and our waiter was totally cute. The problem is that, as a patron of a restaurant, there is no way to know if a waiter is making a lot of eye contact with you and smiling because he thinks you are cute, too, or if he is doing that to get a good tip, and then he meets up with his girlfriend after work and laughs about all the ladies whom he got good smile-tips from... (I left him a standard sized tip, to avoid becoming one of these ladies.) Or worse! His girlfriend is the hostess and sends all the parties of only girls to his section. That's totally brilliant and evil at the same time. Well played, possible girlfriend/evil mastermind. Well played. But I did check his finger and there wasn't a ring, so I don't feel bad about saying he was cute.

Not sure about if the Starbucks drive-through guy is married or not... so I'll just not talk about him.

P.S. If anyone tells you that I don't have a physical type, they are horrendous liars. Luckily, for all the men-folk out there, I stray from it when given enough incentive. ;)

Honestly all of this cute boy talk is just a smokescreen. I've had such a rough/emotional week that I've started taking it personally... All of it. I've cried more in the past week than I have in a month. And I dont even know where it's all coming from... but it's certainly welling up. It's so much easier from the safety inside a happy marriage to think that dating is easy... that there are thousands of people out there who are/would be interested in you if only you were single. That you would be snatched up in an instant if you were single... but when push comes to shove... those people aren't real, and you find yourself alone and hurting and as confused as all get-out, cause somehow in the course of your marriage your husband managed to convince you that he was the luckiest guy in the world because you chose him... but now no one seems to want to be the luckiest guy... and you don't know why. And you start believing that your fairy tale has run it's course and you are gonna turn into the eccentric old lady who lives in a shoe, decorates the tree in her yard with broken mirror shards, and travels the world to avoid remembering that she's alone.

Now, I'm far more likely to turn to cynicism than desperation... I'm not likely to accept a proposition from the type of guy who would offer a proposition... but I don't really want to turn to cynicism either... I've said it a million times and I still really believe it. I don't *need* someone... I'm capable of living my life as it is. I'm capable of just being the cool aunt to my sister's and my friends' children. I'm capable of doing all the driving and the phone calling and the decision making. But I want more than that... I want to be the not-quite-so-cool mom. I want to have a family to take care of. I want to have a partner in life, again. I just don't know how to get that... cause I'm a girl and not super forward unless I'm at a breaking point and just trying to move on... I mean Nathan and I just sorta fell together.... and I don't know how that could happen again... Lightning not striking twice and all that.

I'm sorry. I try so very hard to be Pollyanna. I try so hard to look for the bright side- to focus on the positive... but I don't know what it is about this week... I just feel like I have so little to give and so much sadness stirring up inside me and nowhere to go with it. I feel like I have to fix something inside me that's irrevocably broken before someone else could love me as more than a friend or sister... or like I have to change who I am for someone to find me attractive and I don't know that I'm willing (or even able) to do that.

I have so much love and laughter and care and passion and fun and joy to share. And cheesy-ness... I have lots of cliches and cheesy-ness to share, too, as you may have noticed. It's like Death Cab says-- I'm "like a book elegantly bound but in a language [they] can't read."

Ninja Warrior

I turned on the television and fell into an alternate universe. One entitled American Ninja Warrior. Oh my goodness. So addicting/amazing. I can't believe that they can do that. It's like a lumberjack competition only waaaaaaaay more awesome and far less plaid.

I want to be related to the Gilmore Girls who create parties with insane country themes. Rory created a London going away party for Logan and then Lorelai created an Asian vacation for Rory since Logan was away in London and not going to Asia with her.  Want destination themed party.

or maybe an American Ninja Warrior party... as long as I don't have to be an American Ninja Warrior.

Tomorrow I have class... weird. What will I write of? I don't know. I have no ideas. But that will come to me, right? Eventually it will come to me. I can be inspired.

Lonely. Want someone to talk to. Am without talking buddy. So I think I'm going to go to sleep early and be well rested for tomorrow... Just like an adult. I'm an adult? Sheesh, a girl signs up for one post-bachelors class and suddenly she's all grown up and saving China.

Well, I'm not saving China, but I bet a Ninja warrior is... Mulan- Disney's first Ninja Warrior.

Sometimes I wonder if Nathan's death has made me numb. I seem to feel sympathy so much more distantly than I once did. Once when something bad happened to someone else I would feel it... Now, I recognize it and try to respond sensitively, but... my emotions aren't invested in it. I'm a step removed in a lot of ways. I want to be sad/ troubled/ upset for someone... but all I can manage is detachedly sympathetic. It's like my empathy skills are broken. It's like I don't have any emotions to give but positive ones. I can rejoice with you in your triumphs but I can't go with you to your depths. Maybe that's because my depths are so very low... maybe it's because it would turn bitter inside me... Maybe it's because everything that I've gone through has drastically impacted my personality in some profound way and made me into a thinker, rather than a feeler.

I don't really know, but here is something I suspect. Jesus would have been a kick-a Jewish Ninja Warrior. Cause God has to have a pretty easy time navigating human-made obstacle courses... He has eons of experience.