Disappointment

I'm disappointed in the majority of my friends. I'm disgusted as well. Why? Because I perceive them as flaky. I'm finding it hard to deal with flaky anymore. I have little patience for it. Indecisiveness is their major flaw. Excuses galore. Never any follow through. Later I hear, "I wish I had...." 

I heard and hear it all the time. "Let's talk about it." Do we? No. That is code for "I'm not going to bring it up if you don't." I don't because why bother anymore. It never goes anywhere. The other thing I hear is, "I can't plan that far out." Meaning, "I can't make a commitment because something better might show up." 

Some of it is fear basd and the other is just plain old loser friends that want you there for them but can't be there for you. I have the good time drinking friend, the tea drinking pyscho babble friend, and the general fair weather friends. 

I'm discovering that people that I thought were acquaintances are actually more friend material than my friends.

I have to ask myself, "what motivates me to continually attract flaky loser friends?" 

My mom used to get so mad at me about this fact. I always had loser friends. I'm almost 40 and frankly I'm tired of this trend. 

Question is how do I turn it around? How do I attract the kind of friend I am to them and the kind of friend I want in my life? 

No meat for you

Lately I've heard of people that go without meat because they are too poor to pay for it. I get that. Really, I do. I know there are folks out there that are too poor for meat. I also know that the two folks I heard complaining are also smokers. 

I have a really hard time with this notion that you are too Porto buy meat but not too poor for cigarettes. I have watched cigarettes destroy my family. I loathe them. They are evil. You get so addicted that food becomes secondary to your fix. That is a hard core addiction. It's completely and underly disgusting habit. Yet, I see it consuming more and more people each day. Friends that use to smoke only when drinking now carry electric cigarettes so they can "smoke" in non-smoking areas and smoke real cigarettes the rest of the time. 

The people I know that complain they have no meat and smoke look terrible. In fact, I'm now looking at people that have been smoking since high school that are my age and we look vastly different in age. Our voices sound different as well. They are starting to cough and, well, the smell. 

I digress, I am saddened and disgusted to see people sit and complain about not being able to have this or that because they are broke but they continue to make themselves poor. Want meat? Find a way to stop smoking. No, it's not easy. It's hard. It is very very very hard. I know first hand. I smoked over 10 years before I quit. I still crave them almost 14 years later. No, not easy, but neither is COPD, EMPHYSEMA, CANCER, AND DEATH. Ever watch someone die? It's not like the movies. They don't just close their eyes and peacefully slip away. The lucky ones have a hospice nurse nearby giving strong drugs that makes the whole thing go faster and smoother. 

I would really like those people that complain about not having meat and sit down and show them how much their smoking is really costing them. I know it won't change anything but I want them to know it is up to them. Not my fault they've no meat. This rests solely on their head. 

Autumnal Bliss

I have it. Yes, I do. I tried not to admit it but I caught it. I have been bit by the autumn bug. I have a hankering to bake, make soups, and drink hot liquids. Yesterday I baked a huge cake with 5 grated apples and 3 grated zucchini and heaps of cinnamon. Yum! Today I sat outside in my hoodie in the sun and drank hot coffee. Tuesday I'm teaching my son how to make gluten free pop tarts. I think I will make some carrot pumpkin soup this week as well. I would be happier if we could skip the winter bit. I can handle this. Chilly is fine, crisp is alright as well, Arctic blasts that make my nipples pop off and roll off my tits is unacceptable. 

Performance pressure

I can't perform under pressure. 

The first time I had this happen was my grandma took me to the doctor and she took watching me as I peed in a cup. Only thing is I couldn't get the pee out with her watching. I remember my grandma getting angry and huffing and puffing and trying to bribe me with gum. She said we would never leave if I didn't pee. I couldn't pee. Finally, a nurse gave me a Dixie cup. I drank until I could no longer hold in my urine. My body took over and relieved me of the duty of voluntarily peeing in a plastic cup. 

Since then I've had multiple times I'm tongue tied, can't think of the next logical word, I can't comprehend what someone is saying, I'm frozen...the audience walks away and I thaw. My brain functions, I'm relaxed, and I remember my own name. Yes, I literally forgot my own name in a group. I was to give my name and I said, "hi, my name is Josie." What the hell was that? Even the people that knew me were shocked. Not as shocked as I! I turned so red I bet I look like a plump beet and I was burning with a roaring flame. 

Even in casual conversation I freeze. Therapists, life coaches, friends...luckily, never to my husband. I get a drink in me and that all disappears. I know this is all in my head. I just don't know how to turn that part off and bring out the other person without alcohol. 

When I'm on camera I'm fine. It's actual human connection that scares away that piece of me. How do I get that person out? I hate being Jekyll and Hyde. 

Pub crawl

Last night was my first ever pub crawl. Not only that it was set up so we could all get into each bar without a cover charge. The catch was this; the entire group was sectioned off into 4 groups. Each group had its own tshirt color. I was the turquoise group, my friend john was green, Dennis was pink, and the other group was purple and I don't know them. Each group had art projects they were to complete. One was video, one was pictures, one sculpture, and one 2d art. I was in the 2d group. Our group was the smallest. One member of our group only came to one bar. This member has now left a bitter taste on my heart. 

I've not always agreed with this person. I've sat back and watched her live her train wreck life without judgement. I wouldn't live like that but I never felt it was my place to scold her and such. Other friends felt it necessary to tell her off. To get in to her face and make sure she knew they were displeased. 

I thought her past actions were selfish and that she took a cold unloving approach to her situation that pissed off the friends she had. But last night I was really irked. This time she showered us with her icy unyielding love and I am having difficulty today forgiving her.

We were waiting on her last night. No text, nothing, did she give. I texted her, nothing back. We were about to give up when she walked in the door. She sat down and said we were to wait on her boyfriend. She was given a tshirt to wear. She looked at it in disgusts and passively refused to wear it. Boyfriend arrived and shortly after we headed off on our walk. We all stop to help another team with their tripod. She pushes forward and says in a hasty nasty tone, "I'm going." I let everyone know she left and everybody tries to catch up. She then says, "oh, are we suppose to stay together?" I said, "yes, we are the blue team....that is why you have that tshirt." She does this snobby up in the air nose thing and says with a laugh, "I'm not a team player."  NO SHIT! 

Her and her boyfriend have a drink and a shot of tequila and leave. She barely says good-bye. I know she has to work the next morning but even then it is still only about 8pm. My biggest beef was the lack of fun playful spirit she was unwilling to give. She distananced herself, she was cold and unyielding, and was deliberately not going to join the festivities and be a team player. 

I really feel like my eyes have finally been opened. I can't decide if I'm really disappointed in her or myself for not seeing this earlier. She is on a destructive path of burning bridges. I feel angry and saddened by my experience with her last night. I'm disappointed too. 

Other than that, I was a team player and by doing that I had a blast. We each made a piece of art at each bar. Even if we only spent 3 minutes on it. A final art piece will be made by the leader from our work. Then each team will be judged and awarded something.

I hope we get to do it again!

Last night....

Last night I went to, what I thought it was going to be, a poetry reading and story telling. It was at a very liberal church that many Christian folks would argue is not church enough. I think this stems from using words like source, universe, the one, the power, and other non-conservative wording. They even hold services on Saturday at 11.  A friend invited me because he was doing some of the story telling. I read the invite and it was only 20 minutes away and was only an hour long. Sure, I was in! Sounded better than watching tv and feeling bored. 

My husband got off early enough he was able to go as well. I drove as he gnawed on a cold chicken leg he found in the fridge. We pulled up, got out, and walked in. Diverse crowd of races and ages. We give our love donation and was instructed to go in other doors because they don't want to disturb the meditating people. 

Meditating? The flyer said "celebration." Who meditates at celebrations? Ok, whatever. We quietly walk in. Soon, hubby and I get distracted and begin to whisper. I finally tell him to stop because he thinks he whispers quietly but HE DOESN'T. He never learned that art of secrecy to keep the teacher from knowing what you were really doing.

The room felt somber like a funeral. It did not feel like what the flyer said was going to happen; a celebration. The minister gets up and some guy with a Casio plays prerecorded Casio music and it's feeling more like a futuristic funeral and the minister gives a forgettable whispery prayer then some lady recites a open that left me feeling kind of blue. Didn't the flyer mention celebration? Then my friend gets up and starts his story telling. It was pretty gloomy. I had heard the tale before but underdifferent character names. King finds out wife is cheating, kills her, remarries every night for 1001 night and kills each wife in the morning. The last wife keeps herself alive by telling him a story with a cliffhanger. In the end she wins and lives and his heart is softened and they also have kids by now. Yet, he did not tell it that fast. It lingered dramatically. I did like the diggeridoo from Casio electric piano guy. That was nice, but his singing bowl skills need some work. My friend would leave the stage and someone else would read a poem or, here is the kicker, we had to participate. What the hell? It turned into something I dread. The Man Kind Project curse. Anytime these men get involved with anything it always has to become a process to go deeper. I was, figurately, thrown from my horse. My husband was too. He said in a slight accusing tone, "did you know this was going to happen?" In my quietest loud throaty whisper, "NO!"

We had to break off and find a partner and say hello and share. Then we had to share with someone new, then with someone new. There were some fun parts but mostly I think they weirded out more people than they helped. Remember, we came for a celebration. Not a soul searching workshop. 

I left having mixed feelings. I didn't want to influence my husband with negativeity if he enjoyed himself. I simply asked, " what did you think about tonight?" 

His body language spoke volumes. He wiggled in the passenger seat. He groaned while he was thinking  and was looking at the sky. He then closed his eyes  and when he opened then and his tight disapproving lips he said, " it was fun but really awkward."

Good, I can let it rip.

The theme was how you retreat and close yourself off to others. The whole thing felt like you should be ashamed if you are an introvert. "You should be like me, up here wanting everybody to see me. I want lots of people to see, touch, and talk to me. I like to be busy and you should too."

I'm not a social whore. I pick and choose. I open myself up when needed. When I feel safe. This was contrived. I felt pressured. I felt shamed. It wasn't a celebration. It was a pathetic attempt to run someone through a process. To make a moment to celebrate oneness by excluding people that connect to the oneness in a different way and tell them they are not doing it correctly. You should do it this way. 

I'm not really into workshops. Been there and done that. I'm not a workshop junkie. Oh, I'll go if I feel the need. In fact I recommend them to friends. I'm just not that I to them anymore. I'm searching for something else. If I want a workshop to delve deeper, whatever your perspective is, then I'll join. Don't spring this on people. Really! I'm really leery of going any place else where this friend invites me. I might have to pair off with some weirdo that let's me know I'm not deep and kept looking all around the room at the other ladies. " no shit, I'm under pressure to give answers I don't have" was what I was really thinking,oh and, " dude, you are very rude." I kept thinking, "this is starting to get on my nerves." 

Just when I thought it was done then another exercise with yet another partner. I gave it my all and did the motions but the whole time I was thinking, " this is the most ridiculous bullshit hoo-ha flim flam farce I've ever stumbled upon." 

I looked at my husband and said, " at one time I would have believed these people knew the way. Now I know they are all lost still and think their way is the best. I don't belong there anymore. I don't believe what they believe and that is ok. I just know this is not me." He silently agreed. 

I can see "spirit" differently. Perhaps from witnessing death more than once. Perhaps from my constant search and realizing nothing ever changes unless YOU decide to do it differently. No dance, no prayer, no wishes or pleas, not breathing, none of it will change your life. Your thinking, your attitude, and your choices make or break you. What to discover your gifts? Do what feels good. You might have tort y a few things but don't give up. I love my special needs clients and yoga. I absolutely love them. I would cry buckets of tears if they were hurt. I never knew I had that in me. I was scared but I did it. I didn't need meditating, breathing techniques, life coach, dance routines, eat weird, fast, none of that. I just needed to answer the call. My friend sent out an email. I was the only one that said, " I'll teach them."

I'm quite tired of these workshop mentality get-togethers. I'm now on guard about going to functions with my husband and his MKP guys. It is almost more stressful than hanging out with my mean drunk family. 

From now on I'm always going to wonder if my friend will tell a story and I will be safe to listen or if I will be accosted with demands of "stand up and find a partner, not someone you came in with." Oh, fuck no, I'm out here. Let's go get a Mojito and laugh and have a real celebration of oneness over drinks!  

Text

I got a text yesterday at 2pm. I was confused. I thought it was sent to me by mistake. It said  "grandpa C died the funeral is now." 

I sent the text to my mother in law, she knew grandpa C. I could see her phone was connected by the green light. She didn't respond. I sent it to my sister in law in Massachusetts. Response. She said she got an email early in the morning but hadn't read it until recently. 

I never heard back from my mother in law or my husband that sent the text in the first place. Not a call or text back. I was in the dark until my husband got home at 10:30pm. He told me "everybody says hi" 

I look confused at him. "Who is everybody?"  He says, "everybody at teen night."  "You went? is that why you are so late?"  "I was working nearby and dropped in." See, I don't mind he dropped in but I was under the influence he was working. Lack of communication, again. 

Finally, I mentioned the funeral. "So you went to the funeral?" He said, "yeah, I sent you a text. You say I never tell you anything." 

This communication thing eludes him. As you can tell, his mother isn't much better because she never acknowledged my text either. I asked him how he found out about the funeral. He said, "I got this text that said, "grandpa C died Sunday, funeral is at 2" he said he got it at 1pm. He didn't know who sent it. It came to be it was his other sister, not the one I texted. 

This is my life with this family. No communication. None. They expect mind reading and if they say something it's not uncommon to be vague. Once someone sent an email with the words "help, my house is flooding and I need S to come over quick!" I got the email 3 days later because I was busy. When S called them back and said we just got the message the other person took it as we didn't want to talk to them. Oh for crying out loud! You send a freaking email in an emergency and it is our fault because we didn't want to talk to them? Aye aye aye...I slipped off the trail. 

I'm seriously not sure how to respond to my husband saying, "I sent that because you say I never tell you anything." 

I was speechless. I was struck dumb. Yes, technically he said something to me. But when I text him for clarity I got none. As with his mother. His father sent an email to his sisters, not my husband. My husband told me his father and wife and his mother were at the funeral. I did, at least, get a call he was working late. This was after I made dinner, but hey, I got a call. No mention of funerals thought my text. I waited to see...

Am I the only one that thinks this family needs help with communication? Am I the problem? I feel absolutely crazy after talking to these people at times. I am usually the last to know or they expect me to know because they swear they told me and it usually comes down to the fact they told someone else. I don't speak vagueanees or between-da-linesanees. I wasn't raised like that. My grandpa would scream, "god dammit" and then bark his orders and he still does. My other grandfather would yell " you're a fucking bitch." To my mother when he was drunk. My grandmothers were about the same. I knew where I stood with those folks. No mystery. No vague round about ways of saying we hate you, or we don't want you around, or you are stupid. Nope, they would just tell it like it is. My grandfather to this day says, "you big dummy" when he yells at you about something stupid you did. No, it doesn't feel good. That's not the point. But feeling like a mushroom, sitting in the dark, fed bullshit doesn't feel good either. 

I married into the opposite extreme of my family.  Just looking for balance here, folks. Just some balance. 

Mo' flo' time...

It's that ime of the month. Bitchy, bitchy, bitchy. Not being heard for a month and then for a few days I explode in a whirlwind anger. I cry upon viewing touching stories. I have a short tattered but flammable fuse, I think of memories and reflect. I drink red raspberry leaf tea in hopes it calms my fiery womb. I increase my red meat and vitamin c to help myself absorb more iron. I rest because my body is doing a lot of work right now and I get tired easy. This is every month ritual that I honestly have not ever been able to embrace or love. 

Perhaps I would if I had people around me that understood, cared to understand, and tried to ease things up a bit. My mother was a "deal with it" and "suck it up." Kind of woman. Her favorite line, "no rest for the wicked." She would follow this up with, " I've been good in this life, I must have been evil in my last life." 

The rest of my family are skilled in the art of ignoring and changing conversations. My great grandmother told my mother that babies were made when a boy and girl sat under a tree and ate green apples together. She told me her sister died from consumption because she stepped in a puddle. This was the most health information I got from my family. My family also has this habit of saying nothing about dead people, even their ills, because it's rude to talk about the dead. If you odd you must whisper, just in case they hear you.

I digress, I am about to venture into a few days of major blood loss and hormonal changes and I'm expected to love this about my body. Meanwhile, I'm looked upon as lazy or weak because I need to rest and I am emotional. I sucked it up for a month, I dealt with it for a month, let me have a few fucking days to wallow in my pity of being a woman. 

This time brings up a lot of issues floating around, bumping into memories, and sliding down a chute of despair landing in a heap at the base of my skull. There I wisk them away into an antechamber where I discuss with myself about how to live my life and if I'm doing it right, and whatever else I think of. after I'm through with those pesky varmints I toss them over a cliff. Yet, somehow, someway, they recover and slither, climb, and leap back by the next month. 

It's at this moment I'm suppose to be gloriously happy to have the realization that for the past month I was lonely, miserable, and left out in the cold. Then rejoice that my body is in turmoil as my uterus is completed shredded and deposited out of my body to make new for a new one. 

I'm suppose to be grateful for being a woman and having this experience meanwhile, while having this experience, everybody acts like I'm being melodramatic,unreasonable, and being a bitch. 

Perhaps if the rest of the month I was heard and noted as a sex toy, if I was able to have discussion and not one sided talks (meaning I'm doing all the talking), if I wasn't told I'm the one escalating the issue at hand when I'm attempting to be heard for the 100th time and ignored, when I ask for help and don't get it, when conversations are changed, when when when when....

The men in my life are allowed to me angry, pissy, argumentative, fussy, picky, bitchy, cantankerous, lazy, loud, mouthy, etc... All the time. I begin to lose my cool, being a woman, and I'm promptly put back in my place. I am to remain stoic. Emotionaless, boring, plain, and have a high libido in case my man wants sex. I'm the greatest actress of them all. On stage 24/7. The great chameleon. My only flaw? My period. The distaste of male influence on my tongue and oppression binding my ankles. I am to be seen but not heard, my words are of little importance. I am a woman.   

Shaking it up

My husband and I have decided to give foster care a twirl. We've been playing with the ideas adoption now, well, since before attempting to adopt Flint. We discussed the pros and cons and talked to friends and we decided to give this a shot. My husband said this would let us see if we really wanted to adopt. After caring for small children we would know if we really want to do this, again. We start classes in January 2014. We know we will take babies and under 4 but we haven't discussed if we will take special needs or sibling groups. I'm open to some special needs but not all. Special needs covers so much from being deaf but mentally aware to learning disabilities that are not severe to extremely severe. Someone I knows a 4 year old that looks all of two, maybe younger, he is mentally very slow and both legally blind and deaf. I am not about to take that on. Even though he is sweet, I am not capable dealing with a kid I can't communicate with.

 Our 10 week classes will help us determine what type of child(ren) we will want. Meaning ages, how many, etc... Today I was in the phone with people and discussing all this and discovered that potentially we have room for 4 kids besides my own. Not that I want to take that on but we have that potential. The social worker said we should qualify for more but not less children because we can always say no to them but we can't change after all the paperwork goes through without it being a big deal. I'm leaning towards being ok with a sibling group but my husband says we should start with one. The social worker told me that 90% of the time these kids are not alone. 

My family doesn't know, yet. No one reads my blog from the family so I feel pretty safe with keeping secret from them. I know I would hear all kinds of negative bullshit I don't want to hear. I would hear how I shouldn't get involved with other peoples problems, or how I was ruining my life by taking care of kids, how in never going to be able to find myself if I'm always taking care if kids, etc... 

As I see it, the people that say those things also age much faster Than the ones staying lively with kids. My grandparents raised my cousin. They stayed very active. My grandfather still goes to my cousin son's ball games. Meanwhile, my other grandparents molded away to nothing. I'm not a bar hoping person. I'm a Disney World, kids art, fun science experiments, and water park type person. I love kids and kid activities. I'm not ready to grow up and be boring.   

To be honest this scares the crap out of me and excites me at the same time. Here we go again.....