These foolish games.

Sometimes I pick my nose (with purpose, I might add) while I type at my desk. This is funny because my desk is right next to the window that looks out to five more windows of adjacent apartments to my left. I imagine someone spotting me from one of said windows and catching me in what they think is a private moment. As I type this, it's beginning to dawn on me that this is an instance of funny in my head...but not anywhere else.

Let me make it up to those reading this by sharing another playlist that speaks to me in a multitude of ways:

Angus & Julia Stone - "Draw Your Swords"

The Decemberists - "This is Why We Fight"

Mumford & Sons - "I Gave You All"

Van Morrison - "Astral Weeks"

The Avett Brothers - "Head Full of Doubt"

Citizen Cope - "Bullet and a Target"

KT Tunstall - "Through the Dark"

M. Ward - "Fuel for Fire"

My Morning Jacket - "Hopefully"

Gregory Alan Isakov - "3 a.m."

MGMT - "Kids"

Ben Harper - "In Your Eyes"

David Grey - "Say Hello Wave Goodbye"

Jethro Tull - "Wond'ring Aloud"

John Mayer - "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room"

I promised myself I'd do this.

I am grateful for:

• The bouquet of yellow gerbera daisies that are STILL alive and kickin' on my windowsill
• The fact that I've taken care of them; changing their water, cutting their stems every few days just to prolong their existence
• Looking at my cherry-red nails and realizing I actually sat down for long enough to paint them myself
• Remembering that I messed up numerous nails during the painting process and did not give up; but simply put nail polish remover to good use and started again
• The research I've done on a new career path
• The fact that it's a career that doesn't even require a college degree and the fact that this doesn't bother me
• Because I might be at the point where I can say, "I don't care what others think. I want to be happy with myself"
• Maybe I'm still a little scared to switch gears but I am working through it
• The women I've allowed myself to become friends with lately
• Women that are sober and fun and full of life and have something I want
• Freedom to be themselves
• The dream I had last night; a recurring dream
• About the man I just broke up with
• In the dream we are fighting. Well, I'm picking a fight with him
• Pleading for him to see how his behavior affects me
• And he's standing his ground, ignoring me, moving away from me
• And it's heartbreaking
• But when I wake up, I do not call him or reach out to him
• Because I know I can't
• Because it's really over
• And for once I want to let sleeping dogs lie
• And let it go
• Can I?
• "I'll Back You Up" by Dave Matthews kind of sums it up
• And I'm so freaking happy about music
• And what it does to me
• The bag of clothes I finally removed from my car
• Progress!
• My dog
• Obviously
• She's just, the most beautiful, neurotic, furry little poodle I've ever met
• Ah, love
• Remember my post last week about my obsession with emotional, love-filled entanglements?
• Thank God I was honest about that
• Thank whatever that thing was that inspired me to write it all down
• So that I'm aware of it
• As I see that I'm leaning again towards an entanglement that has been present in my life for years and years
• And I'm being honest about it
• But for once, I'm not jumping in
• Because I'm enjoying myself a bit
• I do have to work on my issue with time-management
• This head that buzzes like a bee
• Gets so caught up in thinking
• Rather than doing
• And it's counter-productive
• But, we're all human
• We all have issues
• My grandfather, Shwartz
• And my faith in something
• That I prayed to
• To help him today
• His first day of chemotherapy
• So awful
• But, I feel like if I send positive vibes his way
• It just might help
• Rather than wallowing, something I'm very accustomed to doing
• Again, counter-productive
• My 4th step
• That I've just begun
• It feels good
• To get here
• Those moments where I feel here
• In the moment
• I'm happy about those
• And the run I went on this weekend
• That reeked havoc on my lungs because of the powerful winds
• It still made me happy
• To get out there
• As freaking painful as it was
• My Saturday night
• It was so fun
• I haven't laughed that hard in a while
• And I needed it
• And I realized
• I looked pretty
• Don't you love those nights?
• Where you can actually say,
• "I feel good,"
• Inside and out
• Ah, life
• Full of twists and unpredictable turns
• I want to love you
• No matter what you do to me

frank sinatra sounds so calm when he sings, "i've got you under my skin," when the reality of it is being this irked is anything but placid.

Let's take a break from our regularly scheduled programming and pay homage to those people in our lives with the uncanny ability to get under our skin. Even more, let's also congratulate them for putting us under a spell that tells us, "it may be different this time." I have two responses to that crock of sh*t delusion:

1. Chances are it won't. Just like the program teaches me that the same person will drink again (reinforcing the idea that to stay sober, we must be willing to change) the same two people with the same two issues will fight again. 'Na mean?
2. The last time I fed myself the "this time it's different line" was in regard to alcohol. I then fed myself 20 more beers, blacked out and found myself admitting I was powerless over alcohol.

I am powerless over others. I cannot control the outcome. What I can control is my decision-making.

In my life, those who mean the most to me also have the ability to break my heart. Caring about others is a double-edged sword. Caring about myself is apparently where it's at.

I'm so on a roll here with these bitchy rants and I'm lovin' it.

raw.

In therapy last night, I - or should I say we - came to the conclusion that I feel like I’m nothing, invincible, without feeling, without passion, without purpose, unless I’m in love. It’s like love is what gives me color. Without it, I am a translucentish grey that people walk through and over and under and in between. With it, I am full of mass and body and I’m plush and you can push my skin and feel that there are things going on under it, like a beating heart and flesh and blood and veins and everything that makes up a real live human! I’m saying “love” now, but last night we labeled it as “a relationship.” So, you can go back and replace all the times I’ve said the word “love” with the words “a relationship” and I’m basically making the same point BECAUSE I would never sustain a relationship without falling in love first. Period.

Writer's Interjectory Note: I cannot, for the life of me, believe I am admitting this. I have worked so hard to convince others that I am just the opposite.

Today, I hate this conclusion. It overwhelms me. I go to AA for my alcoholism. I am actually in therapy because I am coping with another disorder and NOW I’m contemplating going to CA (codependence anonymous) to learn how to let go of my obsession with other people defining me. I ask myself, “what the f*ck happened to me during childhood that produced this maniacal human being?” And I don’t have an answer, ya know?

Because it wasn’t just my shaky foundation that contributed to my issues, nor was it all the bizarre sh*t that followed during my adolescence and now early adulthood. I was obviously born with tendencies, and instincts and brain cells that help me lean towards feeling and thinking my way to worthlessness. And at the nice, ripe age of 27, I’m now learning that I have to DEAL with all of this.

Sometimes I worry that I’m like, way too obsessed with getting BETTER, being BETTER, changing these ISSUES, that I miss all the good stuff about my life that might just naturally make me FEEL BETTER without having to dish out $85 a week to yap to my therapist. And, I mean, I love AA, it’s helped me stay away from booze for almost 4 years now but even THAT pisses me off lately because I think to myself, “maybe I could let myself just BE more if I wasn’t always in ‘check your motives, your selfishness, your unmanageability' mode that the program instills in us. And yes, yes, yes, the program has absolutely, no doubt about it, ASSISTED me in lightening up and seeing the GOOD in life, but I’m sick of analyzing it all. I just want it all to stop.

My last thought (which was actually my first thought before I began typing) is that I am a freaking walking contradiction. I opened this lovely rant by revealing my shot to shit self worth issues, yet I have about 300 self portrait photos of myself on my Mac’s PhotoBooth application. If one (other than myself and actually including myself) were to look at these photos, they would say that I’m OBSESSED with myself, think I’m AMAZING, am completely NARCISSISTIC. And, well, perhaps I am.

But I learned recently that being obsessed with one's self doesn’t necessarily mean that one thinks they are the hottest thing since sliced bread. Perhaps I’m obsessed with finding the beauty in me, with looking at myself to find the truth, the hidden jewel that will push all this self-doubt away, with trying to find that “gorgeous face” that others tell me I have. And maybe I’ll keep taking pictures until I find it.

Except, I've been told that I'll never find it this way. It comes from within, right? But...HOW?

Disclaimer: This is the most honest I've been EVER on this public forum and I almost don't want to be, but I'm doing it anyway. Mostly because I know I'm not the only woman who struggles with this sh*t and I'm sick of us all blowing smoke up each other's asses, pretending we're all fine and dandy, waiting for the ring to be placed on our finger just so we can say, "phew, I don't have to do any work on myself anymore because I have someone who's stuck with me forever."

the beauty of bullet points

It's like, beyond pertinent that I focus on the good stuff right now. For instance:

• the cold spring water I'm drinking right now with 2 slices of lemon
• the plush white Ralph Lauren robe I'm wearing
• gifted to me by my mother
• my mother's recent efforts to be more involved in my life
• my dog's coat at the length it is right now: not too short
• and not too long
• just furry enough
• the fact that I actually tried to make a salad today
• the fact that I ate most of it despite it being an epic FAIL
• due to the fact that I didn't dry the tuna out enough
• causing the entire thing to be a big, sloppy, wet mess
• side note: how gross is that description?
• the Amy's organic pizza currently cooking in the oven
• and the smell of it, duh
• the gerbera daisies sitting next to my desk
• on the windowsill
• given to me by my Whole Foods cashier today
• after I decided to enlighten her
• with the details of my current life situation
• her only response was,
• "shhh" as she placed a bouquet of yellow beauty
• in my shopping bag
• I mean, I did wonder for a second if she was hitting on me
• but then decided it didn't matter either way
• because there are nice people in the world
• sensitive people
• yes, I am grateful for sensitive people
• like my father today
• his call meant the world to me
• despite the fact that he had to rescue me
• from my self-imposed darkness
• like a ice-cream scooper to a gallon of Ben n' Jerry's
• Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice-cream
• I cannot wait until I can once again devour a pint of it
• only 30 some days to go
• I gave up chocolate for Lent
• and I love chocolate
• but kind of like, unhealthily love
• oops, no negativity in this post!
• my love for chocolate is fine and dandy
• yes, yes it is
• the fact that I'm learning to let myself be
• lately
• thanks to some wonderful help
• sometimes we need help in life
• and it's not a weakness
• it's a strength
• and some people that don't want to
• well...
• maybe they're weak?
• but maybe not
• i'm just not sure
• plus, this is not a post about that kind of stuff EITHER
• back to the lecture at hand
• I love spring weather
• and the fact that it was almost 70 degrees today
• and the fact that I am a fighter
• although today, well specifically tonight
• I feel blue
• until I take a sip of my ice cold spring water with lemon chunks
• and realize my pizza's ready

bullet-pointed post idea in stream of consciousness, fragmented style was kind of, just a little bit, maybe just inspired by the lil bee

I did.

Pebbles of thought.

I read the website Post Secret rather religiously and always come away from it with a comforting yet eerie feeling. There's something wonderful about knowing that everyone has a secret of some sort. At the same time, I feel a bit chilly knowing some of the skeletons that others have harbored in their bones (pun intended) for long periods of time.

All of our minds are filled with thoughts, right? Some of them are meaningless and straight forward and they make sense and they help us do things like, "it's raining and I should bring my umbrella." I must admit I never have that thought because I never remember to buy an umbrella. Anyway, thoughts are like pebbles on the street that you can kick if you want to or choose to let them be where they are. Sometimes you want so much to kick one of them, set it free, get it moving, but just can't. That's why I love Post Secret. People who feel trapped by their one secret are able to kick it free, give it some legs. It then goes to live with a group of other secrets. Then we all get to read them and think, "wow, I kind of feel that way too and I'm not the only one."

I'm not alone is such a powerful realization in itself, isn't it? I think so.

My lovely therapist is ever reminding me that we all have strange and perhaps uncomfortable thoughts. These thoughts are gifts of being human; of being given a brain. It's okay to have these thoughts. But what can become difficult is knowing what to do with the ones that you can't shake and can't kick away. Where do they go? I'm in the middle of figuring this out with her so I can't provide the answer just yet. It eludes me at the moment.

I'm also beginning the action part of my sobriety program and preparing now for the step that involves writing down those tucked away pebbles of thought that have made me feel less than or have fostered a resentment or a deep fear. I've been putting this off for a very long time just because I'm afraid of it to begin with. But, come on, it's been almost 4 years. I need it, man!

Maybe after I write all this stuff down, I'll choose one of my confessions and send it to Post Secret. It can live with the other pebbles of thought that have been set free by someone who was honest and brave enough to kick it around a bit.

Forget you not.

Long Beach Island, NJ (my childhood summers)

I remember the day my father told me that she had passed. I was lying under the covers as he very sheepishly opened my bedroom door to share the news. I can’t remember if music was already playing in the background or if I turned on the stereo to soothe my grief, but somehow I was listening to “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan which spoke so deeply to the situation. The song is now forever linked to her.

I’m listening to Pandora Internet Radio while at work and “Angel” has popped up as the next song in the line-up of great tunes. I am instantly transported to my memory bank; to that day; to the shape of my Granna’s face and her long, strong fingers. I am wishing I could touch the hundreds of shells and pieces of beach glass she collected during her many years living next to the sea and ask her their names again. I am slightly smiling in embarrassment as I mentally replay the times she reprimanded because I walked on the dunes. I am remembering the days I watched her from our second floor deck as she walked gracefully along the sand in her rolled up linen pants, somehow knowing there was no place she'd rather be.

Forever my iconic great-grandmother, Granna.