Time to blog again.
I'm sitting here in the Reno Tahoe Airport with some time to kill before coming back to LA from a short work trip, and I was reading through my emails. One of the more recent ones is my itinerary to fly to Dallas in a few weeks. An opportunity has fallen in my lap for career and financial advancement that would involve a relocation to Dallas, hence the itinerary. They are flying me in for the day to interview face-to-face after a successful phone interview.
There is LOTS to think about with this. My list so far is:
1. Would this be a good move for my career?
2. Would this be a good move for Peter?
3. Am I willing to go back to Dallas?
4. What about my friends/life in LA?
5. How easy would it be to come back to LA if it sucked?
6. What if Peter hates it there?
7. What if I hate it there?
GRRR! My mind won't shut up about it. I lived in Dallas from 93-04, so I could live there yes. Peter has never, and isn't enthusiastic about it but is willing to look at it for both my career, but also for us and if it would improve life for us, and in a year or 2, perhaps reexamine and see what it looks like and whether we want to stay or come back to LA.
I have a lot of demons in Dallas. It's where I had my last relationship. It's where I did a lot of damage. I would definitely have to confront some issues that I carry with me. That could actually turn out to be a good thing, but not something I am looking forward to. There are some financial amends, personal ones too, that would definitely need to be addressed finally.
Peter's career is primarily virtual so he can work from anywhere which is good. But if there is any in-person things, it's always been in LA or NY, so Big D isn't exactly convenient, but that's his part to consider before making any kind of decision together.... and it would be together. His life would change completely. Mine would as well yes, but I would be walking into a familiar city with a job lined up. He'd be walking into an unfamiliar city with the need to dig up some work remotely and possibly locally if it exists there for him.
I think I am afraid of opening old wounds. Afraid of seeing old places that don't have a warm place in my heart. There are some people in Dallas that I would not want to see. However there are plenty there that I would. I'm afraid of causing harm to my partners career. I'm afraid that I will be giving up a job that has been very good to me, and a city that has been very good to me filled with people that have been very good to me for a place that is filled with bad memories.
Those bad memories need to be laid to rest. It's been over 8 years since leaving and I still carry many emotions about that time in my life. Perhaps going back would help. Perhaps it would hurt...
God this is a lot to think about, and I don't even have an offer on the table...yet.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Narcissus
I was called a narcissist the other day after posting this collage i made of pictures of me.
The pictures were meant to show how I have changed over the years physically. I've worked really hard over the years, the last 8 especially, to build my muscles and try to get bigger. I've eaten a lot. I've taken supplements, I've had so many protein shakes I could crap MetRx bars. I've worked out. Hard. 4-5 times a week. With a trainer twice a week designed to help me gain weight and build.
I have a 6'-4" frame. I've been this tall since age 17. I shot up so fast in my teenage years that I would wake up with charlie horses in my legs and stretch marks on my hips. I was taller than my 5th grade teacher. My body had a really hard time keeping up with the bone growth and as a result i was rail thin. SKINNY. I was this height and weighed 175lb. Take a look at the picture in the upper left-hand corner of the collage. That's how skinny I was.
I started working out probably around age 27, three times a week and just figured it out as I went along. I actually managed to get up to 215lb or so after 2 years. I remember the first time I was going down some stairs and felt my pectorals bounce a little. lol... it was really exciting milestone for the former beanpole.
I stopped working out when times got dark and drugs came into the picture. that derailed any physical (and mental) development and I actually lost weight and went down to 165lb, skinnier than I was in high school. That's the upper left picture where i am in the white T-shirt. I needed to clean up and get things back on track. at the end of 2004 with the help of my family, I did.
One I sobered up and got back to the business of life, the weight started coming back on...but it wasn't all good weight. Take a look at the pic in the middle row second from the left. I started getting thick in the middle. I never had that problem before and seriously had no idea what it was like to eat better. But I learned and started trying. I started seeing my friend Jeff in a professional capacity as my personal trainer, 2-3 times a week... and I just tried. I tried hard and consistently.
After several years, my weight was up. my old clothes were tight in the arms, chest and thighs, and I was apparently turning heads that I didn't know I had any power to turn. I started feeling, now and then, maybe I wasn't that tall gawky stick with the bad posture crying from being made fun of. maybe.
Photographers have shot me a lot lately (See the bottom row of the collage). I have been so completely flattered and honored to be asked to be shot, to be published, placed on posters. It's crazy. I quite honestly don't get my appeal. That's fine. I don't have to. I find the attention EXTREMELY flattering, much undeserved, totally baffling, and honestly, really love it.
Narcissus is describes as this:
Narcissus was a hunter from the territory of Thespiae in Boeotia who was renowned for his beauty. He was exceptionally proud, in that he disdained those who loved him.Nemesis saw this and attracted Narcissus to a pool where he saw his own reflection in the water and fell in love with it, not realizing it was merely an image. Unable to leave the beauty of his reflection, Narcissus died.
I am not in love with myself. I am not enamored with myself. I do not have an inflated sense of self. I am not self centered or self obsessed. I don't stare at myself in a mirror. I am very happy with how I look yes. For the first time in my FUCKING life, I feel good about myself, and this little shit, who I never got a good vibe from anyway, has the balls to fucking say something like that to me. I am pissed. His opinion doesn't matter, but it doesn't mean I wasn't affected by it. It cut to the core. It hit that nerve that was hit when I was made fun of for crying. When I was made fun of for being so skinny. When I was made fun of for having really long legs and a short torso. It hurt a lot.
My self esteem is in tact thanks to all this self work I have done, not only physically, but also mentally and spiritually. I was a fucked up human being and I needed help. I got it, I worked on it, and I made myself better so I could be a positive functional member of this society, and try to look damned good doing it. lol... But my self esteem is fragile. It's new and it's easily squashed and that comment though thoughtless and bitchy reaching for a laugh, really tested me.
I'm still angy but I'll get over it. I always do. If I take a picture of myself and post it, it's because I think I look cute, or cool, or stupid, or funny. It's me just having fun. Get the fuck over it and look at yourself in the mirror instead of me.
The pictures were meant to show how I have changed over the years physically. I've worked really hard over the years, the last 8 especially, to build my muscles and try to get bigger. I've eaten a lot. I've taken supplements, I've had so many protein shakes I could crap MetRx bars. I've worked out. Hard. 4-5 times a week. With a trainer twice a week designed to help me gain weight and build.
I have a 6'-4" frame. I've been this tall since age 17. I shot up so fast in my teenage years that I would wake up with charlie horses in my legs and stretch marks on my hips. I was taller than my 5th grade teacher. My body had a really hard time keeping up with the bone growth and as a result i was rail thin. SKINNY. I was this height and weighed 175lb. Take a look at the picture in the upper left-hand corner of the collage. That's how skinny I was.
I started working out probably around age 27, three times a week and just figured it out as I went along. I actually managed to get up to 215lb or so after 2 years. I remember the first time I was going down some stairs and felt my pectorals bounce a little. lol... it was really exciting milestone for the former beanpole.
I stopped working out when times got dark and drugs came into the picture. that derailed any physical (and mental) development and I actually lost weight and went down to 165lb, skinnier than I was in high school. That's the upper left picture where i am in the white T-shirt. I needed to clean up and get things back on track. at the end of 2004 with the help of my family, I did.
One I sobered up and got back to the business of life, the weight started coming back on...but it wasn't all good weight. Take a look at the pic in the middle row second from the left. I started getting thick in the middle. I never had that problem before and seriously had no idea what it was like to eat better. But I learned and started trying. I started seeing my friend Jeff in a professional capacity as my personal trainer, 2-3 times a week... and I just tried. I tried hard and consistently.
After several years, my weight was up. my old clothes were tight in the arms, chest and thighs, and I was apparently turning heads that I didn't know I had any power to turn. I started feeling, now and then, maybe I wasn't that tall gawky stick with the bad posture crying from being made fun of. maybe.
Photographers have shot me a lot lately (See the bottom row of the collage). I have been so completely flattered and honored to be asked to be shot, to be published, placed on posters. It's crazy. I quite honestly don't get my appeal. That's fine. I don't have to. I find the attention EXTREMELY flattering, much undeserved, totally baffling, and honestly, really love it.
Narcissus is describes as this:Narcissus was a hunter from the territory of Thespiae in Boeotia who was renowned for his beauty. He was exceptionally proud, in that he disdained those who loved him.Nemesis saw this and attracted Narcissus to a pool where he saw his own reflection in the water and fell in love with it, not realizing it was merely an image. Unable to leave the beauty of his reflection, Narcissus died.
I am not in love with myself. I am not enamored with myself. I do not have an inflated sense of self. I am not self centered or self obsessed. I don't stare at myself in a mirror. I am very happy with how I look yes. For the first time in my FUCKING life, I feel good about myself, and this little shit, who I never got a good vibe from anyway, has the balls to fucking say something like that to me. I am pissed. His opinion doesn't matter, but it doesn't mean I wasn't affected by it. It cut to the core. It hit that nerve that was hit when I was made fun of for crying. When I was made fun of for being so skinny. When I was made fun of for having really long legs and a short torso. It hurt a lot.
My self esteem is in tact thanks to all this self work I have done, not only physically, but also mentally and spiritually. I was a fucked up human being and I needed help. I got it, I worked on it, and I made myself better so I could be a positive functional member of this society, and try to look damned good doing it. lol... But my self esteem is fragile. It's new and it's easily squashed and that comment though thoughtless and bitchy reaching for a laugh, really tested me.
I'm still angy but I'll get over it. I always do. If I take a picture of myself and post it, it's because I think I look cute, or cool, or stupid, or funny. It's me just having fun. Get the fuck over it and look at yourself in the mirror instead of me.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Friends
I got a nice note today from a friend who lives elsewhere asking how I was, and that I seemed a little down lately in my facebook posts. That note alone picked up my spirits. that gesture made the difference in my day. It always surprises me in both good and bad ways what one little sentence, what tiny little thought can do to a whole mindset.
I've kind of had several friendships implode lately. One I blogged about before. There have been a couple other cases - one was a deliberate built-up resentment that got thrown at me and my partner for something that we didn't even know bothered him - tardiness. Apparently it bothered him a lot. enough to not only respond to some inquiries we made about missing a bday dinner we didn't know about, to be informed we were deliberately not invited because he didn't want to have things ruined by us being late and making a big deal of it when we got there... ??? So we were not invited due to tardiness... Really? A note saying "please be on time" wouldn't work? Or since I feel I owed this friend for hosting an event for me, asking us to help set up would have been perfectly in line, and avoided the whole issue. The sad thing, as I see it, is there were plenty of opportunities to tell us he was bothered way before it build up into a shit brick he decided to throw at us. He has every right to invite whomever he wants to whatever he wants and is under no obligation to include me or my partner in anything....It just could have been handled differently. but to me it seems like the friendship got thrown out the window and hit us in the face.
Another friend has just drifted, which happens. People grow in different directions. I'm okay with that. It doesn't make the loss hurt less, just more understandable.
My life has always involved change. I went to a private nursery school, then public kindergarten, then Catholic 1st grade, then public 2-5th grade where i forged more permanent friendshilps. That changes when my 6th grade was a merger of my school and 2 other elementary schools ( a function of the Lower Makefield Township school system). We then moved after 6th grade from Pennsylvania to New York and I went to another school for 7th and 8th grades. I was bullied and harassed there, and begged to go to yet another school, to which I went to a Catholic high school where everyone was new, and I finally found my group for 4 years. After graduation I went to college in upstate NY for 3 years, ended up falling in love and moving to Dallas, where I went to college another 4 years.
The reason I listed all that is to show that my whole upbringing was change, transition and moving from group to group of friends. After that I had my lovely 12 year hellhole (blog post 1) where all bets were off. After that ended and life started over, I've been searching for consistency and stability. But that still seems to elude me. For whatever reason, transition happens every few years with my friendships. We drift apart, we have a falling out, whatever... I can't help but think that this is just a continuation of a pattern that I may or may not be influencing.
I don't know. I've thought and thought about it but have no answers. All I know is that I wish I had an old friend who had been in my life for a long time. Facebook has helped re-kindle some relationships with those people I used to be around in other situations. Mostly it's done nothing, but there are a couple examples where I stay in touch and have let a new friendship start to grow. Still, I want someone who knows me from before, from earlier. who remembers things about me, not because I told them about it, but because they were there. I don't have that.
When efforts to build something toward a longer term friendship fall apart, or gradually drift apart, it gives me that feeling in my stomach where you just found out you were fired, or some relative died. It's not good and I don't like it. I try to look at it as God weeding out the people that don't belong in my life to make room for people that want in.
It still fucking sucks.
Thank God I have Peter. My love. the man that shows me how strong and beautiful I can be. the man that treats me like the greatest prize he's ever had (usually ;-) ) and hopefully I do the same for him. He fills the void of best friend that I had. He's the best thing in my life, and I love him more than I thought I could ever love again. and for that I am grateful.
I've kind of had several friendships implode lately. One I blogged about before. There have been a couple other cases - one was a deliberate built-up resentment that got thrown at me and my partner for something that we didn't even know bothered him - tardiness. Apparently it bothered him a lot. enough to not only respond to some inquiries we made about missing a bday dinner we didn't know about, to be informed we were deliberately not invited because he didn't want to have things ruined by us being late and making a big deal of it when we got there... ??? So we were not invited due to tardiness... Really? A note saying "please be on time" wouldn't work? Or since I feel I owed this friend for hosting an event for me, asking us to help set up would have been perfectly in line, and avoided the whole issue. The sad thing, as I see it, is there were plenty of opportunities to tell us he was bothered way before it build up into a shit brick he decided to throw at us. He has every right to invite whomever he wants to whatever he wants and is under no obligation to include me or my partner in anything....It just could have been handled differently. but to me it seems like the friendship got thrown out the window and hit us in the face.
Another friend has just drifted, which happens. People grow in different directions. I'm okay with that. It doesn't make the loss hurt less, just more understandable.
My life has always involved change. I went to a private nursery school, then public kindergarten, then Catholic 1st grade, then public 2-5th grade where i forged more permanent friendshilps. That changes when my 6th grade was a merger of my school and 2 other elementary schools ( a function of the Lower Makefield Township school system). We then moved after 6th grade from Pennsylvania to New York and I went to another school for 7th and 8th grades. I was bullied and harassed there, and begged to go to yet another school, to which I went to a Catholic high school where everyone was new, and I finally found my group for 4 years. After graduation I went to college in upstate NY for 3 years, ended up falling in love and moving to Dallas, where I went to college another 4 years.
The reason I listed all that is to show that my whole upbringing was change, transition and moving from group to group of friends. After that I had my lovely 12 year hellhole (blog post 1) where all bets were off. After that ended and life started over, I've been searching for consistency and stability. But that still seems to elude me. For whatever reason, transition happens every few years with my friendships. We drift apart, we have a falling out, whatever... I can't help but think that this is just a continuation of a pattern that I may or may not be influencing.
I don't know. I've thought and thought about it but have no answers. All I know is that I wish I had an old friend who had been in my life for a long time. Facebook has helped re-kindle some relationships with those people I used to be around in other situations. Mostly it's done nothing, but there are a couple examples where I stay in touch and have let a new friendship start to grow. Still, I want someone who knows me from before, from earlier. who remembers things about me, not because I told them about it, but because they were there. I don't have that.
When efforts to build something toward a longer term friendship fall apart, or gradually drift apart, it gives me that feeling in my stomach where you just found out you were fired, or some relative died. It's not good and I don't like it. I try to look at it as God weeding out the people that don't belong in my life to make room for people that want in.
It still fucking sucks.
Thank God I have Peter. My love. the man that shows me how strong and beautiful I can be. the man that treats me like the greatest prize he's ever had (usually ;-) ) and hopefully I do the same for him. He fills the void of best friend that I had. He's the best thing in my life, and I love him more than I thought I could ever love again. and for that I am grateful.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Drugs and Pride
A friend died recently, drug related. Wasn't a close friend, but someone I was very fond of. I am in recovery and faught my own battles in the past and when something like this happens, it makes me angry. Not at the person that died. they obviously had their personal battles they were dealing with and they dealt with them in a way that caused them to die. I don't get angry at the drug. the drugs are just innocuous substances. objects. I get angry at the gay society. Angry that the culture promotes this type of behavior...encourages this kind of behavior... they sell glass pipes in the adult stores... "PNP" has become a well known phrase....
Officially I know that this is all condemned, there are organizations, facilities and 12 step programs to help those who want it. They helped me. I wanted it. But that was not something easily realized. When I go out, I smell poppers on the dance floor, I hear snorts around me. I see the meth zombies and the ecstasy glaze. Sure it can be fun. It was for me for a while... but the fun ends. the party ends. Lives end.
I'm sad, of course, for my friend. 39 year old MBA - dead. I have an ex boyfriend, a successful Doctor - Dead. My first relationship - Dead.
That's not normal. Not since the AIDS apocalypse have so many of our gay brothers been dropping dead left and right....
whatever it is - internalized homophobia, self loathing, depression...all this "partying" has its roots in some psychological condition that we as a culture do not talk about. I have a friend that is constantly waffling between entusiastic joy and desperate paranoid sadness. Drugs. The joy is the second half of the week and the weekend. The sadness is Mon through Wednesday.
Why can't this be adressed on a larger level? I know plenty of people that have stopped, that are better, and that are trying to make things the way they should be both in life and in their head. i'm one of them. But these are stand alone, statistically low examples.
Why do gays want to destroy themselves? Where's the "pride"? Pride festivals to me seem like excuses for people to get fucked up, and for vendors to sell shit. It's a drunken flea market that I don't attend. I WISH it was a solemn, politically and socially minded rally, with speaches and topics... Not Molly Ringwold on a float promoting a Lifetime movie where she plays a lesbian (which was the case for the latest Pride in West Hollywood). I want to see Dan Choi. Hell it's LA, I want to see the star of the Big Bank Theory, Neil Patrick Harris or Zack Quinto or hell, ONE GAY CELEB in this town SHOW HIS FACE for the cause not just fucking do a photo spread for People Magazine with his partner and their newly surrogated or adopted babies trying to show how fucking NORMAL gays are.
SHOW how angry we are. Show how serious we are. Show how unique we are. REALIZE how sick we are to constantly self destruct.and eat our own.
I'm a happy man with a happy life and an amazing partner now. I donate to Planned Parenthood and my local NPR station. I went to the Occupy LA camp to listen to their message. I used to volunteer for a PWA group when everyone was dropping like flies from AIDS. I genuinely am proud to be a gay man. Proud to have overcome my own demons and adversity. Pround of who I am.
This drug problem in our community rips all that away. It shows that deep down we don't approve of who we are. That we want to destroy ourselves. Where's the pride in that.
Sorry this post is all over the place, I just decided to write and see what came out without any narrative in mind. Comment if you agree. Comment if you disagree. Thanks for indulging me and reading my rant.
Chris
Officially I know that this is all condemned, there are organizations, facilities and 12 step programs to help those who want it. They helped me. I wanted it. But that was not something easily realized. When I go out, I smell poppers on the dance floor, I hear snorts around me. I see the meth zombies and the ecstasy glaze. Sure it can be fun. It was for me for a while... but the fun ends. the party ends. Lives end.
I'm sad, of course, for my friend. 39 year old MBA - dead. I have an ex boyfriend, a successful Doctor - Dead. My first relationship - Dead.
That's not normal. Not since the AIDS apocalypse have so many of our gay brothers been dropping dead left and right....
whatever it is - internalized homophobia, self loathing, depression...all this "partying" has its roots in some psychological condition that we as a culture do not talk about. I have a friend that is constantly waffling between entusiastic joy and desperate paranoid sadness. Drugs. The joy is the second half of the week and the weekend. The sadness is Mon through Wednesday.
Why can't this be adressed on a larger level? I know plenty of people that have stopped, that are better, and that are trying to make things the way they should be both in life and in their head. i'm one of them. But these are stand alone, statistically low examples.
Why do gays want to destroy themselves? Where's the "pride"? Pride festivals to me seem like excuses for people to get fucked up, and for vendors to sell shit. It's a drunken flea market that I don't attend. I WISH it was a solemn, politically and socially minded rally, with speaches and topics... Not Molly Ringwold on a float promoting a Lifetime movie where she plays a lesbian (which was the case for the latest Pride in West Hollywood). I want to see Dan Choi. Hell it's LA, I want to see the star of the Big Bank Theory, Neil Patrick Harris or Zack Quinto or hell, ONE GAY CELEB in this town SHOW HIS FACE for the cause not just fucking do a photo spread for People Magazine with his partner and their newly surrogated or adopted babies trying to show how fucking NORMAL gays are.
SHOW how angry we are. Show how serious we are. Show how unique we are. REALIZE how sick we are to constantly self destruct.and eat our own.
I'm a happy man with a happy life and an amazing partner now. I donate to Planned Parenthood and my local NPR station. I went to the Occupy LA camp to listen to their message. I used to volunteer for a PWA group when everyone was dropping like flies from AIDS. I genuinely am proud to be a gay man. Proud to have overcome my own demons and adversity. Pround of who I am.
This drug problem in our community rips all that away. It shows that deep down we don't approve of who we are. That we want to destroy ourselves. Where's the pride in that.
Sorry this post is all over the place, I just decided to write and see what came out without any narrative in mind. Comment if you agree. Comment if you disagree. Thanks for indulging me and reading my rant.
Chris
Monday, July 23, 2012
Intentions Be Damned
I started to write about a friendship that went south a couple days ago. I laid out blow by blow details and even changed the names to protect those involved. I had my longest blog entry to date and with 2 clicks I accidentally closed the window and hadn't saved a word.
I was pissed for a minute then the more i thought about it the more i realized this was, without trying to sound too grand, god doing for me what i wasn't doing for myself. I'm not the kind of person to air dirty laundry, and i was about to do just that. Happily in hindsight, i'm glad i didn't.
My world is mine to absorb, process, enjoy, unravel, and navigate. I choose to let people into it and to let them know certain things. Those closest to me know most things. those furthest (who actually still know who I am) know only what they happen to perceive. Sometimes what they perceive is what I intend, but sometimes what is perceived is no where close to who i am or what I think I am showing people, and that's where the trouble arises.
I recently was perceived by a friend to be making moves toward his boyfriend. I was also recently perceived to be and called "a party boy on a downward spiral who retreats to the ghetto" or something to that effect. I was also perceived as someone being duplicitous with those around me. Now to clarify the first one, i did flirt with a friend boyfriend, after that boyfriend flirted with me and told me it was ok and that my friend was cool with it. As for the second, well that was the result of a facebook political debate I foolishly decided to throw my two cents into and proceeded to get ripped apart by anyone who chimed in and had all my opinions dismissed and insulted.
Good times.
All of this has lead me to analyze my side of the street. To look at my own actions and see what I could have done differently. After all, that's all I could have controlled. With regard to the "friend", I could have not flirted with his boyfriend. But he's also the one who would run and talk to my partner about anything I did that he thought my partner might not no about and he felt should know... I ended up writing a lengthy letter (as opposed to a phone call where I knew I would get flustered, and say something I regret rather than what I had intended to say), basically severing the friendship, citing 3 very specific reasons, one being that my partner knows everything this friend did and then some, long before he ever did. that's the nice thing about honesty in relationships - you tell each other a lot. I realized that he was seeing a person that didn't exist. he was seeing who he had already decided I was based on .... I have no idea what. And that's not the kind of friend I want to have.
With regard to the political debate, I unfriended the prick. Done. I never met him in person anyway.
So in looking at my side of the street, I've realized that my actions don't always convey my intentions. Though my intentions may be innocent or innocuous in my mind, they affect others in ways I couldn't even think of ahead of time. People are going to see what they want to see, intentions be damned. The best I can do is be myself. If I am misunderstood, then the best I can do is try to help the person understand, if they are willing to hear it. If they're not, like in the case of my "friend" I had to let go, then it's their loss, but it's my lesson. A lesson that I'll probably have to be reminded of again in the future.
I was pissed for a minute then the more i thought about it the more i realized this was, without trying to sound too grand, god doing for me what i wasn't doing for myself. I'm not the kind of person to air dirty laundry, and i was about to do just that. Happily in hindsight, i'm glad i didn't.
My world is mine to absorb, process, enjoy, unravel, and navigate. I choose to let people into it and to let them know certain things. Those closest to me know most things. those furthest (who actually still know who I am) know only what they happen to perceive. Sometimes what they perceive is what I intend, but sometimes what is perceived is no where close to who i am or what I think I am showing people, and that's where the trouble arises.
I recently was perceived by a friend to be making moves toward his boyfriend. I was also recently perceived to be and called "a party boy on a downward spiral who retreats to the ghetto" or something to that effect. I was also perceived as someone being duplicitous with those around me. Now to clarify the first one, i did flirt with a friend boyfriend, after that boyfriend flirted with me and told me it was ok and that my friend was cool with it. As for the second, well that was the result of a facebook political debate I foolishly decided to throw my two cents into and proceeded to get ripped apart by anyone who chimed in and had all my opinions dismissed and insulted.
Good times.
All of this has lead me to analyze my side of the street. To look at my own actions and see what I could have done differently. After all, that's all I could have controlled. With regard to the "friend", I could have not flirted with his boyfriend. But he's also the one who would run and talk to my partner about anything I did that he thought my partner might not no about and he felt should know... I ended up writing a lengthy letter (as opposed to a phone call where I knew I would get flustered, and say something I regret rather than what I had intended to say), basically severing the friendship, citing 3 very specific reasons, one being that my partner knows everything this friend did and then some, long before he ever did. that's the nice thing about honesty in relationships - you tell each other a lot. I realized that he was seeing a person that didn't exist. he was seeing who he had already decided I was based on .... I have no idea what. And that's not the kind of friend I want to have.
With regard to the political debate, I unfriended the prick. Done. I never met him in person anyway.
So in looking at my side of the street, I've realized that my actions don't always convey my intentions. Though my intentions may be innocent or innocuous in my mind, they affect others in ways I couldn't even think of ahead of time. People are going to see what they want to see, intentions be damned. The best I can do is be myself. If I am misunderstood, then the best I can do is try to help the person understand, if they are willing to hear it. If they're not, like in the case of my "friend" I had to let go, then it's their loss, but it's my lesson. A lesson that I'll probably have to be reminded of again in the future.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
comfort in death
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| My parents last year on their 30+ day cruise around South America. |
My family is no stranger to death. My father ran nursing homes and retirement communities. My mother was a hospice nurse. Death on a weekly basis. Jokes and stories about people's passing when appropriate. Amazing stories to comfort any fear. Death was always part of some conversation going on around the house so it seemed just as much a part of life as discussing weekly activities. Then my little brother died.
Jimmy was born in 1979 with a tumor on his rib. when he was old enough it was removed, and things were fine for a little while. Myself, my older sister and my younger brother were all in grade school and were not told exactly what was going on, as we shouldn't have been, given our ages. But my parents started going away with Jimmy for extended periods of time, one of them then both of them, to Sloan Kettering Hospital in New York. When they went together, we were sent to live with neighbors or family members depending on if school was in session. It took a village, and luckily we had one, to keep life as normal as it could be for the rest of us.
In November of 1982, we all went to the city and stayed in the Ronald McDonald House while Jimmy's condition worsened. We were supposed to go with the rest of the kids to sit in the booth with Michael Landon (Little House was really popular at the time) for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, but early in the morning the phone rang, and my father and sister left. When my brother and I got up, the women who worked there told us that we couldn't go and to wait for my parents to get back, so we watched TV. When both parents and my sister got back we all went up to the room without anyone saying a word, sat on the bed, and my father told us that Jimmy died. He and my mother and my sister and me and my brother all burst into tears and just sat there crying for I don't know how long, holding each other.
On New Years day, Jimmy's hospital roommate died as well. She had been fighting cancer, had a leg amputated, was undergoing chemo, and was 10 years old like me. I think she had a crush on me too. I wish I could remember her name.
That spring Suzie Calarco, a girl in my 5th grade class who had been fighting leukemia, passed away. She was a friend I had known since preschool. She also was 10 years old. She happened to be the next member of our church parish to pass away, and is buried right next to my brother, so when I go back to the cemetery in Yardley PA, I get to visit both of them.
Now again at 32 I lost my partner of 12 years (Blog post #1) and my dog of 12 years. Still wasn't prepared despite all my childhood surroundings. That's the thing about death I am learning. You can be surrounded by it, know it, see it, study it but still never ever be prepared for it. Nothing seemed to brace me or prepare me for each of the gut punches I've felt over the years. Each one was unique. each grieving process different, and none of them ever go away 100%. Each death has become woven in to my character. each one revisits me periodically, and is different each time. I'm less emotionally volatile around them, but no less affected by their impact. I'm hesitant in relationships to a degree. I don't want to lose anyone ever again, but unfortunately that's just impossible.
Death a part of life and I know that. It's inevitable, expected, and all too common in my life. I'm as prepared as I can be for the next one...but it'll still fuck me up when it happens. Now though, I am so thankful for my partner, and all my friends that have become my support network. I know that when the next death of a loved one occurs that I won't need to be alone like I was at 32. I won't melt down and try to self destruct like I did at 32. I will have hands to hold and shoulders to lean on. And that is a miracle in my life. Those relationships are what make everything in life better.
Anyway, no one I know is allowed to die any time soon. that's an order. and if you do, I'm never speaking to you again.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Stress
okay so this time I decided to sit down and write without any topic in mind or any point to make.
I did want to tell on myself last week when I kind of lost it at work a little bit. Stress got the best of me. I fucked up a little. I was very VERY short tempered with a client on the phone. I nearly cried in front of my boss... stress sucks. It was one of those weeks where i felt like I was dancing as fast as i can and nothing was good enough. I was staying late, i was doing what needed to be done next, then I would realize 3 other things also had to be done before this one thing that urgently needed to be done. I literally was pulling out a few eyebrow hairs. It sucked. I got a migraine on Saturday when the week was all said and done, and my lip broke out in a fever blister.... it did give me some really angry energetic workouts though, so that's one plus.
what i realized i have to do in times like this is literally just breathe and take a step back. it's hard when all my electronic devices are beeping, phone is ringing, people are IM'ing me questions and the requests for whatever else might come in.... it can be a bit of a "calgon take me away" thing. So breathe. step back. take a break, walk around, separate from the intensity.
stop reacting.
i just need to add it onto the list. sort the list out later. get it on the list. I hate this. I hate stress. stress makes me do a bad job. whether at work or personally. Stress makes me lose focus. my brain gets cluttered. then i seek distraction. I look on facebook. I look at dirty pictures. if i was home I'd take a nap or watch TV. Follow any of those choices with a "What the fuck are you doing?" moment and it's back to the panicked reacting.
distractions don't work. they divert. they delay the inevitable. they hid the problem. I learned that about drugs and alcohol. they don't help. they hide. they don't clear it up. they complicate. same thing with the Internet, sleep, Project Runway, The Walking Dead, Spartacus (soooooo worth the subscription to Starz)... they all keep me from my responsibility and delay what needs to get done.
once i accept whatever it is i have to do and stop fighting it by reacting, panicking, melting down and beating myself up, i start thinking again. I manage to prioritize. i tackle things in an order so that I can check the fuckers off my list. I can measure and see how far I've gone. Lists are my salvation when it comes to this shit, because my memory sure as hell isn't. It fails me regularly and I know it.
so i don't know. stress is a fucking pain in the ass. but it happens. once i identify it as the cluster fuck it is in the moment, i can deal with it, work it out and do what has to be done.
now if only emotions, family and relationships were so black and white...
I did want to tell on myself last week when I kind of lost it at work a little bit. Stress got the best of me. I fucked up a little. I was very VERY short tempered with a client on the phone. I nearly cried in front of my boss... stress sucks. It was one of those weeks where i felt like I was dancing as fast as i can and nothing was good enough. I was staying late, i was doing what needed to be done next, then I would realize 3 other things also had to be done before this one thing that urgently needed to be done. I literally was pulling out a few eyebrow hairs. It sucked. I got a migraine on Saturday when the week was all said and done, and my lip broke out in a fever blister.... it did give me some really angry energetic workouts though, so that's one plus.
what i realized i have to do in times like this is literally just breathe and take a step back. it's hard when all my electronic devices are beeping, phone is ringing, people are IM'ing me questions and the requests for whatever else might come in.... it can be a bit of a "calgon take me away" thing. So breathe. step back. take a break, walk around, separate from the intensity.
stop reacting.
i just need to add it onto the list. sort the list out later. get it on the list. I hate this. I hate stress. stress makes me do a bad job. whether at work or personally. Stress makes me lose focus. my brain gets cluttered. then i seek distraction. I look on facebook. I look at dirty pictures. if i was home I'd take a nap or watch TV. Follow any of those choices with a "What the fuck are you doing?" moment and it's back to the panicked reacting.
distractions don't work. they divert. they delay the inevitable. they hid the problem. I learned that about drugs and alcohol. they don't help. they hide. they don't clear it up. they complicate. same thing with the Internet, sleep, Project Runway, The Walking Dead, Spartacus (soooooo worth the subscription to Starz)... they all keep me from my responsibility and delay what needs to get done.
once i accept whatever it is i have to do and stop fighting it by reacting, panicking, melting down and beating myself up, i start thinking again. I manage to prioritize. i tackle things in an order so that I can check the fuckers off my list. I can measure and see how far I've gone. Lists are my salvation when it comes to this shit, because my memory sure as hell isn't. It fails me regularly and I know it.
so i don't know. stress is a fucking pain in the ass. but it happens. once i identify it as the cluster fuck it is in the moment, i can deal with it, work it out and do what has to be done.
now if only emotions, family and relationships were so black and white...
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