First Sign Things are not Going Well off Meds

To say I’m upset is an understatement. Just over 3 weeks off my meds and the cracks are showing. I knew this would most likely happen, but was hoping for the best.

I had an awful night with my kids.

The youngest at 17 asked to go to a party. He came home blind-drunk and vomiting like crazy. He’s nearly 300 pounds and couldn’t walk. His friends and brothers had a terrible time lifting him up stairs and into bed. I didn’t know this until the next morning and it upsets me to no end.

The same night the eldest at 20 asked me to have 4 friends over. I agreed because I figured what harm could 4 friends do. Well, 4 friends shit faced drunk can do enough. I wake at 4:45am now and I asked him to shut it down by 11:30pm. They were so drunk and having so much fun that even though it was in the basement I could hear them all the way in my bedroom. They trashed the basement and my son slipped on the beer soaked floor and ended up in the urgent care the next day.

None of this came to light until I was on my commute home the following day.

When I arrived home and wanted to change the laundry, I saw the clean clothes I had washed in the morning and left in the washer in a big pile on the floor. Later finding out it was because the eldest had vomited repeatedly in his bed and he had to change the sheets. God knows if he just threw them in there without cleaning off the chunks. I wonder if he realizes he needs to change the mattress pad as well?

Most likely not because after we argued he left his tossed room and went to his fathers.

Then I had to pay some bills so I checked my Amex bill to find over $300 in food and gas charges interspersed between my dry cleaning and pharmacy run the kids will do for me. When I told the older boys that they had to pay me back, both went out of their mind that it wasn’t their charges. One got so angry he slammed the desk and things went flying, he broke a small desk accessory. The other threatened to cancel my birthday cake and presents if I took the money from him.

During this time I checked my youngest sons bank account to see he had spent well over $100 of his own money on crap food in the past week. He will be driving in a month and he needs his money for gas. He earned a good salary all summer and more than half of its gone already before school even starts. He’s also obese and I’ve been cooking on the weekends so he has healthy meals all week – no wonder food is going to waste.

I was so upset and so distraught I went straight to screaming and yelling because they continue to lie to me and say they didn’t take my card, it wasn’t them, pointing fingers at the other brothers. It makes me crazy and I went off like a bottle of pop clink fizz.

I exercised hard for about 15 minutes just to get out some of the frustration and then I poured a large glass of wine. I got into bed and took an Ambien.

Mike text during this time and then I called. He could hear I was upset and I told him a little but I don’t really want to tell him much since I don’t know him AND don’t want to scare him away. He really thinks I need to get my x involved to take over for a while. We hung up and then text sex started. I barely remember because I was drugged by that point. I wasn’t happy with what I saw the next morning. While it was just dirty sex talk, he didn’t deserve it from me. I haven’t seen him in 2 weeks and he hasn’t asked me out. When I reread the text this morning I find this embedded in there:

I’m more angry at the pleading text than I am about the text sex – but, believe me, I didn’t like that exchange all that much either when I re-read it.

What’s the point in chasing? NONE.

NO POINT AT ALL.

I truly don’t recall the entire text string. I know ambien, alcohol and emotion don’t mix and he got hold of me at a weak point.

When I woke this morning, I got right up to exercise which felt great. But I literally have this heavy weight on my heart.

I’m not sure I can exist without stronger meds. I feel like a complete parent failure and it just keeps happening, no matter how much I feel I reinforce and hold steady with good behaviors for my kids, they seem to find a way to walk all over me. Then they claim it’s unintentional. To be threatened that my birthday treats will be taken from me because of their bad behavior is a terrible feeling – the fact that my son doesn’t even see that he stole money AND then punishes me for his crime is making me sick to my stomach. The drinking is relatively common at this age but their lack of sense about blacking out or trashing our belongings/home is startling to me. The fact that they don’t think I SHOULD get upset over any of this and call me insane, crazy and over-reactive is hurtful.

My children have zero idea what it takes to maintain and support s home with 3 man-boys full time with no support.

Add in the Mike thing and I just feel crushed this morning.

I would like to cry but my makeup is already on and I have work to prioritize.

I feel so defeated today.

Oh, and add in two lesser evils –

Tom called and asked when he could see me again. I told him I had my sisters 30th birthday party and he was welcome to come since it’s dinner then a casino. He readily agreed. By evening he wrote to say he may have his daughter and would let me know.

My sisters mother is also concerned that I want to bring a plus one to her wedding. While I understand my priority are the obligations I have as maid of honor, once the ceremony is over I am alone. I will know a lot of people, but since this is my birth-family, it’s quite different. I am still an outsider in a way, which doesn’t bother me as I’m there for my sister, her mother and our father. But there will be 5 hours of drinking and dancing and I will mostly be alone and would like to have company. My friend agreed it’s a tough position to put a guy in and while I don’t disagree with that, the right guy would be fine. They don’t even have to come from hotel to reception until after ceremony. And they will sit with me at head table. I don’t think it’s crazy but a bit upset the expectation was I should be alone.

Tuesday just ended like crap and started off my Wednesday with a heavy heart I can’t shake.

So Much on my Mind

Right now I feel like a could write a book. I’m no good at short versions of anything and so much has been churning inside of my head lately I wish there was a way to get it out as the thoughts happened and into the blog. It all seems so logical when I’m thinking of it, but when I go back to write it, so much seems to slip away and I end up not knowing where to start.

I felt like light bulbs have been turning on all over the place lately. I know it’s all tied up with my current situation in dating. I’m having a moment like I haven’t had in a very long time. My libido is back in full blast and it absolutely wreaks havoc on my good intentions to have better behaviors while dating.

The difference is – now I know it. And I realized I can do something about it. Maybe not the something some might prefer me to do (not drink, not have sex, not date kind of thing). I now realize if I decide to do the things I do, all I need to do is accept responsibility for what they are at face value and stop putting so much more time and wasted effort into wanting them to be more than they are

I’ve simply got to learn to accept that I can have sex, drink, be ridiculous and WALK AWAY once it’s over.

I’m going to stop feeling bad about myself after I make questionable decisions. Berating myself and becoming more anxious is serving no purpose. I need to own it.

The pressure my attachment anxiety puts on me in these dating situations has to stop. I’ve started having conversations with my anxiety similar to the way I would speak to Trixie if she ever materialized (god help us all).

Sound silly? Maybe. But if talking to myself is what it takes to own my behavior and course correct then so be it.

My dating cup is running over and I’m letting it. I feel like I’ve uncovered something big and want to see if I can put thought into practice.

My whole life has been spent looking for male approval. I didn’t get it from my father. I didn’t get it from husband. The first time I felt really and truly solid about myself the “approval” came from the wrong place (married men). In hindsight, I don’t know if that matters to what I have learned. I don’t think the man himself or the situations make any difference to what I took from them. In hindsight, I learned so much about myself and what I needed to feel good in relationship. If I had been more capable of controlling my emotions, these could have been all positive experiences. Maggie and Nichts recently have me thinking about how to reframe what I’ve been through and how I see my past. In all my recent writing about dating, and digging through my past, I finally realize I can stop needing a man to make me feel worthy.

I actually do feel worthy now. I feel alive and powerful more than ever in some ways (and weaker in others). Maybe I didn’t arrive at this place from the traditional “self-love” approach. Maybe I just filter things through my male-approval lens to understand them because that’s how I’ve always seen the world. I think I needed a solid round of decent dates, some quick turnover, some great sex as well as some rejection to realize I’m actually ok. It’s a normal cycle to be rejected one way or the other in dating. I never learned to accept it and still find myself worthy.

I realize I can. I can own the rejection and move past it. I can own the sex on first dates because I wanted it. I am doing my best balls-to-the-wall to push away the anxiety.

I don’t even know if I am making any sense. Like I said, it all sounded so solid and so crystal clear in my head and getting these thoughts into words has proven difficult.

I know I’m going to be fine. It doesn’t mean I won’t struggle with learning how to slow down, not push for more at the wrong time or with the wrong person. It doesn’t mean I won’t obsess a little or overthink situations. Those are just things I do. I just don’t need to overdo them.

Each man / situation gave me a light bulb moment this week so they will each get a post: Mike, Thomas and Charles (yup a new one!).

I can honestly say I’ve never had this kind of clarity around dating before. I feel like I’m seeing myself for the first time. Somehow I think I’m on the edge of something bigger that’s yet unidentified and in front of me. I feel in control in a way I have never experienced before.

It’s good to be on the edge. It’s liberating. It feels like Trixie level excitement without the crazy. Is that a thing?

I guess we are going to find out if it is or not. And hope I’m not feeding myself lip service.

Big Words: Desperation, Communication, Attachment (part 2)

I’m sure this has happened to everyone here at one point or another….you write a post and it’s a long one you’re super proud of…and it disappears into the ether.

Ugh and double ugh.

Luckily the WordPress gods got half of the post and I only have to get through the second half. I’m bummed because I think it was one of more well-written posts and I had jokes. Ha.

Yesterday I intended to write about the 3 huge words that can mean different things to different people under multiple circumstances.

I’m confident in my evaluation (of myself) in regards to being desperate (I’m not, even if it seems that way sometimes) and having anxious attachment syndrome (I do, working on that).

The last part of the post was probably another 1k words addressing that last big word: communication. Maybe WordPress saw fit to give your eyes and head a rest from my babbling for a couple hours!

I’ve really been thinking hard about communication since the John match some 5/6 weeks back. I am always open to feedback on my communication style since it’s probably the single biggest challenge I have had in my entire life.

Clearly, I don’t lack the ability to communicate well. I’ve always been intelligent, articulate and well-spoken since I’ve been able to speak. My issue is always in delivery. Pace, body language, facial expressions and in particular, tone. My character is not well represented by my tone of voice and I often, including in writing, leave a bad taste in people’s mouths or they misunderstand the message I am trying to communicate because I don’t deliver in a way they can understand.

How you communicate is almost more important at times than what you communicate.  You need to know your audience.

After a lot of heartfelt soul searching and, believe it or not, I looked backwards for my answers. They were pretty clear.

I grew up in a time that the word “hyperactive” wasn’t a word applied to a child’s  behaviors. I was a very busy and over active child needing a whole lot of attention. A mother who was too gentle beyond words, a disinterested father and an era where the only label that could be applied to me was “bad” did not provide the healthy outlets I needed for all my energy.

Why was I so overactive? Why couldn’t I sit still and keep my mouth shut like other children? I must have learned very quickly that they preferred to ignore me and I began yelling and screaming for attention I wasn’t getting. I probably didn’t know how to explain as a small child what I needed or wanted. So, I acted out. That netted my mother taking me to doctor and doctor to “fix” me and calm me down. Ultimately, since there was no solution for my “badness” they put me on a drug that my mother told me was reserved for the criminally insane: Ritalin. Since then, based on the research I’ve done, I think my mother made that shit up to tell a better story, or make me feel bad, who knows. The drug was prescribed as an ADHD drug for “maladjusted children” long before the ADHD was mainstreamed.

My mother quickly took me off the drug. I went from a vivacious, active, verbal child to non-verbal and staring at walls. She would rather have hyperactive. Her hippie cousin (this is the 70s remember) suggested a “natural” type of doctor who might help and my mother was desperate at this point. Today we would call that doctor a nutritionist! He told my mother to stop feeding me so much sugar and for rewarding good behavior with candy. He also suggested my mother put me in activities to burn out my energy rather than expecting me to comply to the “children who are seen and not heard are good children” belief.

My mother found relief. I was active, involved and out of the house most of the time doing my activities. She would drive me to Timbuktu if it meant she got an hour of peace. We still couldn’t see eye to eye because I became independent quite quickly – she wasn’t expecting that and definitely didn’t like it.

If it sounds like I understood any of this as a child, I didn’t. This was how she told me the story for as long as I can recall.

I learned to communicate by screaming, yelling and making a fuss because I didn’t get the attention I needed from my parents.

Doesn’t that sound like Trixie has been around for a hella long time?  Yup.  I thought the same.

I didn’t improve my communication techniques for a long, long time.  It took many, many negative outcomes and scoldings before I really understood how to behave, and how my parents expected me to behave.  When I didn’t behave, I was beaten.  Spoon, belt, hand, basically whatever was closest.  This physical abuse didn’t stop until I was 16 and I recall the day quite clearly.  It was the last day my father laid a hand on me.  I don’t recall when my mother stopped cracking spoons over my head.

Years later, when I recounted these stories my parents reply was “If your father ever really hit you, you would be in a hospital.  Those were nothing more than love taps.”  Eventually they denied it ever happened and said I made it all up.  Perhaps the first time I knew I was being gas-lighted (before gas-lighted was a word).

I didn’t begin to understand I could control my tone until I started to work.  Again, it took a lot of mistakes before I began to understand the difference between assertive and aggressive tones, how not to be bossy but authoritative.  But, learn I did, and very well.  I learned how to take what I perceived as my biggest failure as a child, my worst possible trait, and make it an asset and my ultimate strength.  This is how I became successful, I now had the communication style to communicate my ideas in a way that moved me forward instead of hindering me.  I became a valued employee and a really good leader.  I gained some pride.

Of course, there was still the personal component.  My parents style didn’t change and I married a man who was both my mother and my father combined into one.  Looking back, I married for familiarity and because I had anxiously attached.   Even then, my life was sort of pre-planned in my head and the x checked my boxes.  I didn’t understand that I never really saw him for who he was until we were already together for over 18 years.

When I look back, I believe the only romantic relationship I ever had that wasn’t from an anxious attachment was my first long term boyfriend, Randy, when I was 15.  Every relationship after Randy was formed in anxious attachment.

When children came along, the tension between the x and I as well as my inability to always control my tone, led to  my children often calling me mean.  Of course this is quite upsetting to a mother, but I am sure it is true.  Nowadays I try and explain what they hear isn’t always mean.  They have taken their fathers approach of zero confrontation whenever possible (which is probably common among teens).  They are just beginning to understand that when they ask for what they want/need, with confidence, they may be able to change the outcome.  They still don’t like my tone most days, and certainly don’t like when I go up like a bottle of pop and yell at them for one mess or another they have made.  I’m still learning how to be a better parent and communicate in a language I don’t really comprehend (teenage boy).

I view my inability to communicate appropriately as a young child and through to adulthood within my personal life as the outcome of anxious attachment.   That’s where it all started.

So here I am, at 51 years old, basically in the same situation.  I am crying out for attention and I am not communicating appropriately in order to eliminate, or at least avoid, my anxious attachments. I feel like I have never had a solid foundational relationship in my life that wasn’t founded on anxious attachment and that may be the reason I feel such a deep emotional hunger that I have to make my needs known loud and clear in order to get what I need emotionally.  I am most likely perceived as clingy because I am seeking a sense of safety from someone who isn’t able to ready to give it to me.

And then there was this in one of my google searches:

“While it may seem that an anxiously attached person would seek out someone who was nurturing and available, oftentimes they wind up being drawn to a person with an avoidant attachment style who has trouble meeting their emotional needs. While this sounds paradoxical, their intense emotions complement the missing, actually suppressed emotions of the person with avoidant attachment.

They reinforce each other’s adaptations in the painful dance of their interactions. 

Although it is painful to re-experience this insecurity, people often feel compelled to recreate the emotional climate of their childhood.”

So how do I manage my communication and behavior in order to get where I need to be?  How do I learn how to have Secure Attachment when I don’t recall ever feeling that way in my entire life?

This ain’t gonna be easy.

 

Big Words: Desperation, Communication, Attachment (part 1)

Morning my friends!

Many thanks to all of you who take time to give me insight and advice. I always love the feedback, I never construe it as negative and, in general, unless you are consistently poking at me, I don’t take any offense.

In particular, Jana’s comment from last week resonated with me and I had vacillated between replying directly to Jana’s comment and writing a post reply.

Obviously the post reply won.

First and foremost Jana, thank you. I always appreciate everyone (my whole tribe of faithfuls: KDaddy, Sassy, Morava, Gone, Nich, Maggie, Ann, NBrat) who takes their own time to thoughtfully comment on my blog. It means a lot to me.

So here goes – not everything is in direct response to Jana’s post, but it’s where the seeds were planted for this post.

Quite some time ago, someone on my blog identified anxious attachment syndrome. The first time I heard that on my blog I didn’t know what it was, so I did some research. There is no question I have anxious attachment. Much later, when I went to my therapist, it was one of the first things she identified and wanted me to work on getting back to my inner child so I could determine why and where the anxious attachment syndrome started. I didn’t want to do that work with her at the time. My focus with her then was all about healing, letting go of Tony, learning to be a better parent and building back my confidence. We didn’t ignore the fact that my inner child was crying for help, we did talk about root cause often, but I struggled – and still do – with therapy that makes you go back to childhood to view situations you can not change. Especially when it involves my dead Mother. I do not want to change my perception of my mother because I can no longer discuss any of it with my mother.

I know I am not willing and not ready to take this backwards view. I may never be.

My therapist and I spoke about that. Would I forever be damaged if I didn’t find the roots and forgive myself and the people around me for why I developed anxious attachment? Would I be able to forgive a depressed and anxious birth mother for being miserable her entire pregnancy and affecting my gestational period? Would I be able to forgive my father for loving my mother So obsessively he accepted the fact she wanted children or she would leave him, so he conceded but had no desire to actually raise a family? Would I forgive my mother for the fact that she gave up her life to deal with a depressed and mentally unstable and demanding mother as well as a hyperactive child (who in the 70s was undiagnosed and considered “bad”). Can I forgive them?

Yes. I have already forgiven all of them.

Do I want to think about and try to better understand how those forces built an anxious attachment in me that was created in childhood and then cultivated over 22 more adult years in marriage?

No. I don’t.

I know I have anxious attachment syndrome. But I also believe, as did my therapist, I don’t have to go back to move forward.

I do have to learn my triggers, understand the signals my body gives me and stop neglecting the small voice that says “you are not enough and you deserve less”. Or, more often, “you’ve done something wrong.”

I think, if nothing else has ever come across clearly on my blog – the one thing that has always cut through is my direct and transparent honest about myself.

With that said, this blog is an actual real time blog. I blog entirely top of mind and you all get to look first hand at my craziness, happiness, depression, anger, joy, elation, confusion and frustration. I put it ALL right here in the best words I can find to share with you. I don’t edit myself. I write what I think and how I feel.

Does it come across as desperate many times? Yes.

I am not exactly desperate anymore. I’m sure of this. Do my words sound that way? Sure, I can see that.

But you get a birds eye view of how my mind is churning through every available path and avenue. The choices I can make. The roads I should and definitely should not travel. You’ve seen where Trixie (and her friend Tricia) live. You watch me fold and unfold and refold the same towel a thousand times – fueled by my nervous anxiety.

I felt I needed to be clear about where I am today. I am in a better place than I’ve ever been in my life. My life has taken the best path since February 11th, 200 days ago. I am a drug addict, I have to count the days my head stays straight on my shoulders and I continue to make better choices for myself. I know this.

Right now, I do not believe any man is going to derail me. Do I get sad and frustrated and angry and write about it in the moment? Yes, I do. Because you help me suss out things I didn’t want to see when I wrote the post. Coming back to the comments is like revisiting the crime scene. I have to go through the action again (in my head) in order to reply to thoughtful comments. When I do especially “bad” things – I write about it because it’s the last way I have to hold myself accountable. It reminds me I wasn’t listening to my better senses.

I loved my therapist. I think she did an amazing job in the time we had. I was a big fucking nut to crack in under 4 months. She cut across and gave me tools to manage my family, Tony, getting back to work and developing new relationships. I wish I had more time with her but – as life is – I don’t have the time or money to see a therapist. In place of that, I’ve been educating myself and consuming self-help books by the handfuls, like MMs. It would be ideal to have the resources I needed to stay in therapy for a good long while. It’s just not going to happen right now in my life. I have time for one dedicated “activity” outside of work – my choice is fitness over mental health (assuming there was a therapist who worked in the evening or weekends). This is my choice in life. I’ve learned not to swallow a whale right now. Trying to fit any more in (structure) is going to be too stressful for me. Therapy shouldn’t be stressful. But trying to find the time and money right now would cause even more anxiety. I am fully comfortable with my choice.

There are two very divided schools of thought about how to manage anxious attachment. I always thought this to be be super interesting because the tactics are so opposite one another. And you all definitely reflected the two schools of thought in the comments!

One thought is figure out how to love yourself first.

But the other is – practice. Date as many people as you can and practice identifying and managing the anxious attachment.

Do I love myself? I’m trying. I’m absolutely in the best place I’ve ever been. I consciously work on positive self talk and creating good habits. I will probably always struggle with some form of “I’m wrong, I’m not good enough or please love me and don’t leave me” but I am working on my three worst fears that create my anxiety. Am I desperate? No. I’m not. I experience desperation and rejection within the dating scene, but I am not desperate. I can be alone. I have filled my life with healthy and happy people and habits.

So, along with the agreement of my therapist, we discussed allowing me to practice managing the anxiety through dating. If it became overwhelming I was to stop. And I did – for short periods – if it wasn’t serving me. And now, twice in 200 days I had two back to back events I wrote about that got my goat and I became frustrated. I experienced the anxious attachment in its full form and for the first time in my life I RECOGNIZED my behavior and subsequently controlled it.

That’s a win in my book.

Should it be controlled from the start? Yes! I hope to make that happen. But in the meantime, I’m super proud I had maybe 2 24 hour periods where I worked through it and acknowledged what I felt. I sat with it.

post script: somehow, half this post was cut off and lost. I will try and re-create the second half tomorrow so I can address what I’ve discovered about communication.

The Next Thing That Can Go Wrong

Looks like I am gluten intolerant.

Just as I’ve been working to eliminate foods that are difficult to digest or cause bloating in an effort to reduce my fistula leaking, I ate a big bowl of pasta.

Eating a big bowl of anything is unusual for me these days. My portions are teeny tiny and I can’t eat and drink too much at the same time. I’m passed 3/4oz now, so I have the appearance of eating more normally, just very little at one time.

The fistula is yet another thing I have to live with and eventually share with a partner should that ever come. The goal is to control the bloating as much as possible to reduce or eliminate any leakage and I’ve gotten pretty good at immediately determining foods that irritate. The nutritionist told me 2 weeks ago to begin reducing gluten and that has helped, so I think when I ate this bigger portion of pasta my body wanted to revolt.

I woke up at 4am doubled over in pain and my stomach sounded like The Predator – literally. My son heard it and said “Mom! That’s the predator noise!” And found a clip. It’s exactly right.

I’m not sure how to add an audio link but that’s the noise.

So it looks like I have to go commando and pretty much eliminate gluten. Like I don’t have enough shit to deal with (meant in every literal sense of the word!).

I can’t eat rice which stinks, and it seems I can manage one piece of Dave’s Killer Bread once in a while as long as it’s not every day, but what else do I need to eliminate?

Other than the one bread, I don’t eat bread.

I know I can not tolerate pasta now.

I have been eating these BelVita biscuits because they are easy way to get my carbs and fiber in but they have to go to, just in case.

I don’t eat cereals and snack foods.

I honestly think I probably have most of the worst gluten offenders out of my diet already so it looks like biscuits and pasta now come off the menu too!

Guess I’ve got a lot of research ahead of me – any experts out there?

6 Months of Hard Work

February saw me get started 2/11/19 was the day I chose to change my life. I started on my 100 day challenge

March brought me into an accountability group that I fell in love with. Their positivity and spirit drove me to work harder and try to do more.

April and May were my crushed months. I’ve never worked out so hard in my life! Almost every single day I put in a minimum 2 hours of effort comprised of mostly cardio but beginning to layer in the strength training.

June Saw me back to work and struggle with maintaining my new lifestyle. I was so tired that I wanted to quit more than not. But I didn’t quit and preserved to begin finding my new life balance.

July saw me do my first “runbet” and I won! Go figure! I ran the most miles in the month in the time frame allotted. 93 miles was tough but doable. The bet had me focused on kicking its ass once I realized I had the strength and endurance to potentially win! I also did a “core-crusher” challenge to do 30 days straight – finished that as well and now keep those exercises as a “never-miss” a core day exercises.

August saw me join another runbet, but this time, instead of racing to first, I decided to make this month about my endurance. My goal for end August is to complete a full 30 minute class running and knock out over 3 miles.

I’m very proud of the past 6 months. Resetting my priorities around my health and fitness has helped me immensely. Once I prioritized my fitness and made it a “must-do” like brushing my teeth my ability to focus and commit changed the way I manage myself. At the moment, it’s tough and I do t have much of a social life, but I’m also ok with that. My body is changing in all the right ways, I can see and feel muscle everywhere and am so surprised when people comment on my muscles! I can’t do anything about the mounds of excess skin, but I’m not focusing on that. I want to be sure I have physically done all I can to reshape my body and make it strong.

I Realized I’m Just Super Frustrated

It took a day for my head to clear, but I realize I am just plain old angry and frustrated because of John.

Not at John.

There’s a huge difference there from my past behavior.

He was perfect on paper, we had a super fun night and it’s the best sex I’ve had since Tony. So what he wasn’t ready for more, he was just a jerk for not saying so sooner because he got caught up with the fun. I’m over it. It’s too bad and move on because there is nothing to dwell on.

But dwell I did. I wanted to figure out why was I obsessing. It occured to me that it wasn’t about him at all – it was about the idea of finally finding a good man for a relationship. My brain placed him squarely in the “absolute potential mate” bucket. The previous guys have been “let me test this out to see if he can be a potential mate, so far so good”. That’s what went wrong – I made a decision long before a decision was warranted.

Why? Because I know I want a partner now. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of being with married men. I haven’t had the experience post divorce of having a boyfriend. I realized I never had to do that walk of shame – I always knew where I stood the next morning when I was with a man. I want someone to talk to, someone I can confide in that loves me and wants to be there to support me. Friends are fine, but they are not a partner.

I want to feel the way Tony made me feel about myself with someone who is free to do what he pleases when he pleases. Overnights, weekends, road trips, family affairs and just watching a movie together. I just want a boyfriend already and it makes me nuts that I can’t find one. (Although let me say – even at this level of frustration I won’t date someone short, period).

This situation with John just brought my level of frustration to the top. I realized it when I was swiping like mad in the dating sites today – hoping “he” would pop up. My perfect man. Any man, that I found attractive, really. I felt the desperation. I caught myself. I got into a project at work that distracted me. Then I thought about why I was going through this cycle.

I’m glad my brain is more clear than it used to be and I known my meds are doing their job with reducing my emotional outbursts as well as clearing the cobwebs. When I thought about John, really thought it through, it didn’t matter anymore. Sex was really good, but not anything I would write home about. I enjoyed the actual date more than the sex – he was just fun to be around. I just wanted that feeling of being desired, feeling good about myself, and laughing out loud with a man – to continue. I was angry that it ended. But that has zero to do with John.

I did something yesterday that I’ve never done. I deleted him from every possible form of contact so I wouldn’t have that phone number handy for text or calls. He’s not blocked, but I doubt I ever hear from him again and that’s ok. I’m glad I removed any opportunity to reach out to him in the future.

I had a headache all afternoon from my frustration. So I plan to get home, relax and have a glass of wine. I have fallen into the pattern that Thursday is my off night for working out. I will meditate before bed, but that’s about it for Thursday. I’m going to sit on my deck and have my wine and maybe some Advil until it’s bedtime.

I may even swipe a little more slowly and keep making good choices.

I Don’t Even Understand How Dating Works Anymore….

I know it’s been some time since I’ve written, but honestly there wasn’t much to report.

Adjusting to work and the commute has frankly sucked. I’m between a rock and hard spot to sort of “interview” during this freelance period and show them what I can do so they may consider hiring me. Conversely, I don’t want to give away my best ideas and skills for free since they are not paying me near what I’m worth. I also find myself not wanting to work 60-70 hour weeks being paid less than what I’m worth, even if the pay is fair enough for the current role I’m performing. It’s really a catch 22 at the moment. I work remote Friday’s which I know they don’t love but it’s saving my sanity.

I also realize after all I’ve been through that I no longer have the killer instinct. I know it may come back, but for now I know I still need more rest than normal. I must take care of myself.

Finding a workout balance has been tough at best. I leave at 7am and I’m home at 730/8pm. I’m starving and need to eat which means I don’t start working out til post 8/830. I need to be sleeping by 10 to function. It’s a killer and I’m trying to figure it all out. When I missed my first day in 160 days, I panicked for a moment and then told myself this: I missed the workout because I was having so much fun with my friends. My priority that Sunday was my emotional well being. I truly didn’t feel as bad as I thought (which honestly is the bigger worry, I don’t want any excuses to slip in and take over again). Then, just a few days later, the same thing happened: I randomly missed a workout.

My workouts are simply Peloton related. It could be a quick 5 minute stretch, yoga, meditation or something active. My commitment to myself was to make it part of my life every day. When I make it a priority I always figure out how to make it happen. I can’t figure out how to get the quantity (in time and effort) I prefer but I may have to adjust my lens on what’s feasible when I’m working and commuting.

When I missed the second day, I realized it just past midnight. I missed it because I was on the phone with a man I had matched with and we had some crazy connection. He was traveling in India, so it was his morning to my night. John is the reason for the post, actually.

I matched with John on Bumble. He wasn’t exactly my physical type but he met enough criteria. He was out of my distance range so it was a surprise he came up as a match. On Bumble the woman initiates the conversation and he replied quickly. We both had a lot going on and agreed to exchange phone numbers more quickly than usual. We both happened to be going into the city with friends for the evening. Surprisingly, we kept in touch. We both found each other interesting enough to communicate while with friends. It wasn’t a lot, but it was sweet. And we were both drunk. No sexting. Just funny text.

He was leaving for India the next day. I was still in the city with my friends for another evening. We text chat back and forth most of the day and then he called me when he arrived to the airport. We spoke for over an hour through airport security and dropped calls. We just kept going. He was fun, interesting, intelligent and I enjoyed speaking to him.

I didn’t get the butterflies I’ve gotten so often in the past when a man begins to check my boxes. This didn’t feel like that. I just liked him. He wasn’t overt, it was a really genuinely easy conversation from one topic to another. We had everything in common – and I mean everything. There was nothing we didn’t see eye to eye on and that was truly the strangest part. We weren’t excitable with one another, no one was giddy or coming on to the other – it was just easy. He asked a lot of questions that showed me he was interested. He answered any question I had as well as offered up his own stories.

Off he went to the plane and the communication didn’t stop! He had WiFi and text throughout the flight while he was awake. He text me through his 25 hour journey to India. He was so communicative that I became more interested and engaged after a few days of his attention – no one had communicated like this with me since Tony. He wasn’t as flattering as Tony was (because Tony was in immediate limerence) but he was eager and interested. I started to drop my guard. Within the week I began to expect his text because he was so consistent.

While John traveled for the week, I was having a killer week at work. But somehow, we communicated consistently. No good mornings every day kind of thing, but I knew he was texting me pretty soon after he woke up and looking for me to chat while we had some crossover time. He was consistently responsive. After 4/5 days of text, the conversation had taken on an incredulous tone for both of us – we still hadn’t found one thing, not one thing, that we disagreed on. I finally threw out dance music and he admitted he didn’t like it! But seriously, that was it. Really and truly – every thing else was aligned: family, religion, politics, jobs, travel, clothing, shopping, food, music, exercise, activity, favorite places, friends etc etc etc. it felt like Tony without the limerence. It was more than clear he was attracted, but it never got over the top until the last day before he returned home.

We had avoided all sex talk and it eventually made it around to some teasing. In an effort not to tease him directly but to still share my crazy sexuality, I sent an old blog story I had written. Surprisingly (again, it was common at this point) he wrote me back a sexy story! Bobby and I used to do this and I loved it, but never thought it would happen again! And here it was, happening without any pressure. He just wrote! I had crossed over into shock as did he. We both started to say “how can you be real?” Multiple times.

The sexy talk continued, I admit I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to stop but I didn’t. It wasn’t too crazy but it was a tease. He loved it. I loved it. We made plans to meet Sunday. In between it all we had normal conversation. Some he initiated and some I initiated. I began to get a little excited because I hadn’t met a man like this since Tony. He was arriving home on Friday and then driving up to see his son Saturday. He would come to me Sunday after he saw his son on the way home from his trip.

But, at some point he began to tell me there was just no way he could wait til Sunday to meet me. He wanted to meet me now! I felt like everything was entirely genuine about our connection. I wanted to meet him as much as he wanted to meet me. I had no concern we wouldn’t be attracted. We already wanted to sleep together. He was willing to get off the plane from India and drive the hour to meet me.

That didn’t feel right or fair to me. 24 hours of travel would kill me. I agreed to see him and offered to drive to him. I spoke to my girlfriend about this and she agreed and told me to throw an overnight bag in just in case.

Now I began to worry. The chemistry was off the charts, I knew it would be in person, and if it really did work between us – I was going to have to explain my scars before getting undressed. Because I was getting queasy of this, I finally decided I just wouldn’t get undressed on the first date – even if I did stay overnight with him – that I wouldn’t have sex with him. I should have known myself better, but I kept telling myself I could hold out.

So while I was debating internally – I sent him this text at the same exact time he was typing a text with the exact same thought:

Exchanges like this happened pretty frequently – we were just in the same wavelength.

I included some snippets of conversation – just to show you how equally engaged he was be the end of the week:

I was convinced by his repetition of his interest in me and his consistency in his language.

So, I totally agreed to drive to him on Friday night and wear a sexy pair of heels (part of the discussion above). I was really excited and hadn’t felt the butterflies in so long that I actually wasn’t even sure what I was feeling.

My emotions were saying “hell,yes, real potential here!” And my brain was saying “how good is he at convincing a woman to sleep with him? And if he repeats the body type during the conversation more than once, will he be able to manage my wounds? I don’t think so, he’s going to get grossed out by my naked self”

And those are the thoughts that kept me awake Thursday night. Would I disappoint him? I was so confused.

Deep Breaths

The first 3 weeks of work have been interesting to say the least.

The role has changed back and forth multiple times. I have been unclear on what the role should be so I’ve done my best to contribute where I can and lie low.

I know from many years of experience with design groups to cultivate a relationship before I show my skills. They just don’t want to know. It’s the most ass-backwards culture on the planet. Fucking Fashion.

They landed on the role late last week and my office location changed. I’m back to a 1,5 hour commute each way. So much for any kind of financial or time break for me. That one thing, saving an hour a day, really might have been a saving grace for me. In any case, it’s done and gone.

So I move into the new role yesterday and get the clarity that it’s exactly similar to my old role in that design doesn’t want the role and design doesn’t want operational boundaries. Different from the first year of my previous role, there is no executive support on the design side. I now know what it feels like to be supported in a difficult or impossible role and then to be unsupported and be the fall guy. Being that fall guy nearly cost me my sanity and my life. I am NOT going back there.

I get the sneaky suspicion this is exactly what they want me to do. Go in, see what can be changed for operational profitability and force the change down designs throat.

No thank you. I cannot do it again.

That year was the worst of my life. I spent days crying and sobbing how I couldn’t be effective and how my boss was cruel to me. I hated that design didn’t like the “edicts” passed down through my department. While some of those rules still exist a year after my departure, and the boundaries are still in place, no one cares (meaning my boss) that a human was lost in the equation. I was a small price to pay for his success in this area. Oh, and the CEO was fired a month after me – so most of what I was working on went out the window with that CEO.

Thinking about and writing about last year causes me severe anxiety. I feel the tightness start low in my belly and come up through my chest. While I was sitting in my temporary space listening to the challenges ahead of me, the feeling crept up on me. That’s not good when my body is reacting before my mind has actually fully processed the pros and cons of this role.

The role is temporary with an opportunity for full time. I was covered to hire a maternity leave and now I’ve been placed into a brand new role that has never exhausted before. All my spider-senses are telling me to run for the hills.

Except. Except I need money because I have a family. Except I need money because I have a home. Except this company was in my top 5. Those 3 reasons alone are enough to suck it up buttercup.

So now the question is, how? How do I keep my mouth shut? How do I NOT demonstrate my strongest skills (the level is significantly below where I’ve been operating). How do I not make waves? I’ve been a leader for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be entirely self sufficient. This is clearly a side effect of always being a leader of a large dept. I actually don’t even like some of the minutia I have to do because I haven’t done it in 20 years. That causes simple frustration on top of a learning curve.

My friends and family help to remind me I must work and this is a good job until I find what’s right. I also recently read an article in The NY Times about commitment bias and how we tend to stick with bad decisions because we are letting past actions dictate our future even when we know it’s irrational. I stayed in that role last year because of commitment bias: I was convinced I could correct my mistake. I couldn’t. I have since accepted that and learned from it. However, now that’s putting the fear of god in me for any new role. The article was short but impactful as it went on to say how overcoming these mistakes can manifest themselves as physical pain. I am learning that what happened to me last summer was truly a perfect storm of bad choices culminating in a final breakdown and inability to cope with anything. It’s frightening that it happened to me when I have been so strong all my life and certainly helped me reframe where to focus my priorities.

So while I’m not happy, I’m not totally unhappy. Someone who is exiting the company to raise her children gave me excellent advice yesterday: “No one has ever been in this role and no one is really watching, make it your own. Blaze a new path and do it through relationship.” I thought it was very insightful advice. Also, very scary because I don’t build immediate relationships as I’ve always been an acquired taste – so this is something that would put me out of my comfort zone and tools I need to develop.

So we shall see where this leads and how much newness, change and pressure I can truly tolerate. I realize my mind isn’t where it used to be, nor is my level of ambition. I don’t think I’ve lost my ambition, but it’s still on vacation at the moment. I’m not hungry right now as I’m still nourishing my body and soul.

It’s such a shame our culture, the city I work in, and the industry I work for all use people up and spit them out. There is no real work life balance here and I have to ultimately determine if I can live with that and very little income, or go back to what I’m used to.

Werk, Werk, Werk

The first week back to work was good. I like the location of the office (office is super old but that doesn’t bother me much) and it’s a small group to interact with. I like the people. The designer wouldn’t look at me the first week (as they do) but was chatting me up by yesterday and engaged.

Last week was a 4 day week and this week is only a 2 day week so it’s perfect for easing back into the swing of things. I’m doing better than I thought. My mind turned on pretty quickly though I have forgotten a lot of names of things and notice my recall isn’t so good – but I have noticed this declining over the years and assume it’s partially due to age or simply just my mind. I’ve never been good with recalling names of anything.

I walked into the middle of a botched reorganization and there have been plenty of uncomfortable moments. Not necessarily for me, but the people who I’m working with. The one guy I’m shadowing is so lovely and kind and has been a pleasure to work with. I find myself wanting to help him succeed even though I was initially meant to replace his current role. It’s been a strange set of circumstances.

Having literally been through this the past 2 years, I can see the writing on the wall and several execs have already dropped hints to me. There may be a full time role but the reorganization needs to fall into place first. If I had been brought in full time I know exactly what I would get started doing – it’s as clear as day to me. But I’m not so I’m much quieter than normal (which I find is a skill I need to practice more often) and I also find I don’t mind not being a full time employee and not worrying about the politics of all of this. At this moment, I’m looking at this like a 3-6 month contract. If more comes of it, then great. For now, I like less pressure and visbility. It feels good to add some value. I don’t actually do much yet, so they will need to give me a specific directive soon, but I’m good waiting another week or so as I settle in.

It’s been a struggle to figure out the work-out schedule. I know it will come. I’m happy to say I have more energy for a few reasons:

-Wellbutrin was added to my anxiety meds and I can definitely feel the difference. Seems like the combo of meds is working better for me. The anxiety meds were tapping my energy and shutting me off, so combined with all my other physical issues I couldn’t get the energy I needed to get out of bed some days.

-Early iron transfusions – about a month sooner than the past years. I don’t feel it yet, but in a week or so I know that will help immensely.

-Exercise and Meditation – I’m working on adjusting down all the cardio I’ve been doing and incorporating balanced strength training. However, while the workouts leave me feeling gratified, it’s really the meditation in the evening that’s helping calm my mind and focus. I totally knocked meditation when it was suggested to me and couldn’t make it work for me. I think I’m in the right head space now to make it a powerful tool.

I believe all things are moving in the right direction and I like that I am an active participant in making my life better. I’m still not over Tony, but have even learned a little self talk to stop obsessing over him. Maybe I never get over him and it’s just something I need to accept.