Hello Stranger

November 29, 2018 by

I’m back!

Oh my God, I’m actually back.

Wow.

This feels so surreal.

It also feels weird because WordPress has once again changed some things on the site and the layout I’m used to using has changed.  But so far, well, so freaking good.

It is nice to be home.

I have missed you!

I have been busy, I won’t lie.

So busy that it makes me wonder how it is that I can even take the time to be sitting here in front of my computer not working on homework.

My God.

The amount of homework.

It is horrendous.

There is literally not a day.

Ok.

There was a day.

That I don’t do homework.

I didn’t do homework on Thanksgiving.

I almost did, but then I just cut myself some slack and said, no, take the day off or you’re going to be pissed.

And the day was taken off.

I went to a movie!

In fact, heh, I went to two movies!

I cannot remember the last time I saw a movie in the theater, probably last Christmas?  And to see not one, but two in the same day was crazy.

I went with my people to a matinée at the Embarcadero Cinemas, which I love.  I do adore a good art house space, plus, there is just something pretty about that part of town when it is emptied out, as it was being a holiday.   The view of the city, the Embarcadero, the bay, the Bay Bridge, the downtown skyscrapers and plenty of parking, which in and of itself is a miracle.

We saw At Eternity’s Gate, the Vincent Van Gough movie with William DaFoe.

First of all, DaFoe is a fucking genius, he’s got the Oscar on this one.

Second.

Horrendously sad.

But I mean, you know it’s not going to end well, the man cuts off his ear for fucks sake, it’s not like this is going to be a happy movie.

Yet.

It was a gorgeous movie, Julian Schnabel did amazing work.

It’s filmed on site where Van Gough did his paintings, Paris first, than the South of France in Arles, and the light he manages to capture is just exquisite.

It felt like being in one of Van Gough’s paintings.

So much beauty.

So much grief too.

I was in tears and the ending just had me with tears pouring down my face, but ultimately, it was such an extraordinary work of beauty that I was grateful to be able to see it.

And I was grateful to reflect that I have gotten to see a number of Van Gough paintings in person.

Although I have never been to the Van Gough museum, I have seen his works in the Louvre, the MOMA New York and the MOMA San Francisco, and The National Gallery in London.

That’s pretty damn good if I think about it.

I am blessed with having gotten to see the amount of art I have seen in my life.

There is so much more to see.

So much more.

Speaking of art, I had hoped that during my down time from work with the holiday I would get to the MOMA, but I did not, too many other things were happening.

Lots of homework, internship work, seeing clients, seeing friends, running errands that needed desperately to be run, clothes shopping–I hadn’t been clothes shopping in so long it felt kind of crazy.

I’ve lost a little weight the last few months and really had to get new jeans.

And I’m not complaining about that at all, it just took forever for me to have the time to get to it.

You may see a theme here.

Busy.

The new internship is going well and I feel like it will grow me into a very healthy private practice therapy business.

Which is also part of the reason why I haven’t been blogging here for some time.

I’m not much of a tech person, not really, not at all, and for my internship I needed to build a website.

Now if I had the money I’d just hire a friend to do it, in fact, when I do have the money I will most likely do just that, but in the mean time.

Well.

Shoot.

I already have a blog on WordPress, I’ll just use WordPress.

Except.

Ugh.

I didn’t realize that I had inadvertently connected the two, my professional website with my, very private, thank you very much, blog.

I mean.

Some of you out there know who I am.

But most of the people reading my blog don’t know who I am.

I am anonymous here and I always have been, since it allows me to pretty freely write about what ever I want to write about.

Oh.

Sure.

There are things y’all don’t know and that will stay like that for ever, thank you.

But.

I am really transparent here.

I write about all sorts of things.

All sorts of things that no therapist wants their clients to know about.

So you may imagine my horror when I realized that you could access this blog through my professional site.

I don’t believe I let that oversight go more than a few days.

The horror I felt though when I realized that the website I’d worked on so hard was linked to my personal blog was no bueno.

I mean.

Yuck.

I don’t believe any of my clients found it.

In fact, I do wonder if anyone actually did figure it out.

It wasn’t very obvious, but for a couple of days the “About Me” was my “About Me” blog from this site, which isn’t exactly scandalous, but it is sassy and certainly not anything I would want a therapy client to read.

NO.

So once I fixed that I spent too much time trying to figure out how to separate the two entities.

I spent too many precious minutes and hours away from my homework on the help chat.

And then WordPress went down, well, it didn’t go do per se, but the administrative support did and really, the couple of chats I did have done nothing for me, except taunt me with the fact that there was a way to separate the two from each other, but I couldn’t figure it out.

Like.

My understanding of technology is a five-year olds.

So for a while, like a petulant five-year old, I just stopped trying.

Then I started reaching out to friends.

I have had three-hour long sessions with friends and nothing was accomplished, except for me to get more frustrated.

I wanted to blow up the site.

I wanted to pull my website, but I’d fucking bought the domain and paid for two years of hosting.

I wanted to delete my blog, my baby, this guy, but really?

No way.

l have over 2,500 blogs on this site and they are valuable to me.

More about that later.

So.

My best idea was to lay as low as possible and not write any blogs while I was getting it all sorted.

And yesterday.

I think.

I hope.

Fingers fucking crossed, I figured it out.

Well.

Not the real solution.

But something that would allow me to be anonymous here and not have any tie to my professional site’s identity.

For now it seems to be working, so I’m not going to jinx it.

And hey.

Look at that.

I got to run.

It’s time for me to get ready to go to bed.

I have early supervision now before work and I’ve got a six am start.

Blah.

But hey.

It’s so nice to be here again!

I am.

So fucking nice.

I promise, I won’t be a stranger no more.

Nighty night.

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My Head is Full

April 23, 2019 by

Like so full.

So much stuff in there.

I have a touch of a headache.

This sometimes will happen when I have been trying to shove too much information into my brain and it just can’t take any more in.

Over the weekend I had to address a lot of homework and do a lot of research.

The research went well, the paper got written, eleven pages thank you very much, but I was still behind.

Not by a lot.

But by enough to make me a feel a touch chagrined with myself.

I had completely missed out a weeks discussion in one of my classes.

I figured out how today when I realized I had read all the chapters well in advance of the discussion and some part of my brain just thought I was totally ahead of the curve.

Plus.

I had met with the professor of the class last week and I just presumed to myself without checking into the actual syllabus that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I think unconsciously I let myself do it.

I tend to post well thought out, referenced, worded well, well supported, thoughtful post.s

I am typically one of the first people in my classes to respond to a post prompting and I am pretty open and transparent with the work I do, how I am in the world and what is happening personally.

My cohort knows I went through a break up two months ago.

My cohort knows I had shingles.

My cohort knows I juggle a full-time PhD program with full time nannying and a roster of clients, I’m seeing ten this week.

I’m busy.

I dropped the ball in one of my classes.

I can also see that I had a stupendous busy week last week nannying.

The two older kids were on Spring Break and their grandmother has been visiting.

I did not have any time, none at all, to spend on my homework.

I really do rely on getting in at least a couple of hours of work done during the week, sometimes, like today, I can actually even get in two hours of homework a day.

Not always, but anything helps.

Not having a spare minute or moment to do classwork last week put me behind and I didn’t even realize it until I was sitting in a cafe on Divisadero before my Saturday commitment this past weekend.

I literally thought I was going to burst into tears.

I had totally missed the deadline and I didn’t have the book with me that I needed to reference to have posted a discussion.

I made damn sure that came with me today.

I also had to just let it go.

I had to do research for the paper I wrote yesterday and I had to also do a big post for my Creative Arts and Leadership class.

I had to acknowledge that I wasn’t actually going to be able to do the discussion until today.

On top of that.

I have another paper due on Wednesday of this week.

So.

I got lucky.

I got really lucky at work.

Not only were the kids back to school, they had after school activities, I was basically alone the whole day with the littlest guy.

He didn’t have the biggest nap, but he had a long enough one that I did a 1,300 word discussion post with six references to the book in it and I responded to a classmates work as well.

I started looking over the work that I needed to gather up to do the next paper, the one that is due Wednesday, and I could feel my head getting a bit spun.

So.

Lunch break.

Sat down.

Looked outside.

Watched the sky.

Ate a nice meal.

Made some tea.

Got back in it and then the little guy woke up with one of those cries that says I’m not quite awake and something woke me up and I want to sleep more but I will need cuddles to do so.

You don’t know that one?

I gathered him up, snuggled him into my arms and he slept in my lap for another half hour.

It was enough to let my brain simmer down a little bit, but the pot is still dangerously full of stuff.

I went to a cafe in between work and my commitment tonight and I tried to do some more work and I managed to eke out a bit, but really, fuck, my head just said no way, no more.

It is at times like these that I do question what the fuck I am doing.

I know it will pass and I already feel like I have committed myself to it to stop now, but stopping, whoa, it might feel really nice.

When I get stuck I do tell myself to just focus on what can be done today, just today, that’s all I have anyway.

Today.

I did well.

Really.

I did and I need to acknowledge that.

I got caught up and I did the work that needed to be done to prepare for the next paper.

I have my books and notebook packed already for tomorrow with high hopes that I will get another good few hours without interruption at nap time.

It’s a smaller paper, just six pages, but it’s on theoretical framing, so, um, yeah, hella dry.

If I get two hours tomorrow I should be sitting really well.

I also had a client cancel tomorrow night, so I just have one after work.

I’ll lean into it and I’ll get it done.

In the mean time.

Fuck me.

I am tired.

I am in need of tea and a good mindless few minutes of a video that has nothing at all academic about it.

Seriously.

I Almost Called You

April 13, 2019 by

But, of course, I did not.

The sunlight was streaming through the windows at my studio, just flooding in, and the urge to call, just pick up my phone and call was so strong I gasped out loud with it.

I also yelled at you again today in the car, “sack up and be a fucking man.”

Ah, emotions.

Hello.

I miss you sugar, but I’m not calling.

You can reach out to me under certain circumstances and I’m sure you know what they are.

I don’t expect that you will.

Sometimes I think it might happen and I get hopeful, but I really don’t think you will.

But the light, at sunset, so majestic and golden, it reminded me of our early days together and the day/night/sunset that I fell in love with you.

And then I realized we’re in that time now.

It would have been just over two years ago this past week that I met you with your friend for an anniversary dinner at the Citrus Club in the Haight.

I had not planned on going and was surprised to get the phone call saying, come out and have dinner, it’s your anniversary.

But.

Having just recently found out that you had a crush on me, I decided to go.

I don’t think I changed so fast in my life, striped right out of those yoga clothes and dressed up and hopped on my scooter.

I got there so fast I was the first one there and waited nervously for you to show up.

You seemed nice, but noncommittal.

Of course, you told me later you’d basically given up on me and didn’t think there was anything going to happen between us.

But there was.

And not too soon thereafter.

May 3rd, 2017, our first kiss.

God.

It still makes my heart do all sorts of somersaults thinking about that and how quickly we found each other.

It wasn’t very long after that I fell in love with you, falling into your eyes as the sunlight beamed through the windows.

Oh lover.

So it was really hard to not call.

And there’s so damn much I want to tell you!

So much.

I’m going to Cuba!

Havana, specifically.

I just got my VISA ordered tonight before starting this blog.

There is so much to do before I go, so much homework, work work, therapy clients to see, studying to do, I have to take my Law and Ethics exam soon and I have just shelled out $295 to the Therapist Development Center for all the study materials to pass the test.

I have a lot to do before I go to Havana in July.

But, oh, Havana.

I’m so distracted by the trip that I find myself barely able to focus on the things that need to be addressed before I go.

I also really didn’t have the bandwidth at all to do homework the last couple of days as I’ve been up early and at work early both days, the kids are on Spring Break and the parents are working extra and the grandmother is coming for a visit.

I had to juggle  a lot of monkeys the last few days, no time for homework and no time after getting home from seeing clients to attend to it either.

But looking up Havana, Cuba on the net.

Oh, I’ve got time for that.

Yes, yes, I do.

I have done lots of research and nailed down some specific experiences that I want to have.

Mostly because I know that showing up with nothing planned is not a great idea for me as I will be a single, I assume, woman traveling to a Spanish-speaking country.  I’ve already been told I will get catcalls, etc. And since I don’t speak much Spanish I really want to be prepared.

Also that there’s intermittent to little WiFi.

That the ATM’s don’t take American credit cards or debit cards.

And that no American cards at all are accepted anywhere, basically everything is done in cash.

I’ll need to get CUC when I arrive at the airport.

You can’t get the currency outside of Cuba.

So it’s not like I can go to SFO and drop some money and get it, I have to bring a bunch of cash with me and then exchange it in Cuba when I get there.

The casa particular I’m staying at requires my payment up front in CUC when I check in.

That’s $320, for eight days including breakfast.

Hella good deal.

In fact.

I should be able to really do quite a lot of things on a fairly small budget.

And I think I will end up booking a bunch of Air BnB experiences.

I believe I can pre-pay these by card before I go and then I don’t have to haggle prices when I can barely speak Spanish.

There are a lot of super interesting things I want to do and I sort of gave myself an itinerary after doing some research on Air BnB and just Googling random things about Havana.

One day I plan on doing an “Authentic Cuban Food/Market Tour” where I will get a tour of a big market and a lunch at restaurant with a local chef.  I’m planning on doing this pretty much the second day I’m there, first day will be just getting settled in and chilling out.  That way I have an idea of how the markets work and what to buy and what things costs.

I want to do a street art and walking tour with some graduates of the University there, take photographs and get out of the heavy tourist areas.

I also want to do some shopping with a local fashion designer and artist.

I want to go to the museums of course and I also want to do an Art Deco tour.  This is with a professor at the University and I figure it’d be a great learning experience, I really like Art Deco and wandering around with a professor would be some great insight into the city.

I want to take a Salsa class, because, hello, dancing, Cuba, yes please.

I also want to do some rooftop sunsets and drive around in a vintage car.  I mean, come on, $65 for getting driven all around Havana and taken to rooftop pools?  Count me in.  I’ll be skipping the booze part, but there are non-alcoholic beverages provided, so I’m set.

And I do like the driving around in vintage cars a heap, so I’ll be doing that more than once.  I have to do the drive along the sea wall in West Havana.  Bring it.

I’m also going to do a day outside of Havana, the spendiest thing I’m planning on doing, but when you look at everything the trip is offering, its super worth it.  For $120 a full 12 hour day, you get picked up at your place in a vintage car with A/C and driven an hour to Vinales, for a cave exploration, a hike into a tobacco farm, lunch, and horseback riding.  And they drive you back and drop you off where you’re staying too. Um, totally worth the price.

It won’t be Cuba without going to the beach, in yes, another vintage car, so I’ll be heading to the beach for sure, I’m still sourcing out the right fit here, as there’s a couple of different offers and I want to explore which beach feels right.

There are two other things I want to do that have nothing to do with Air BnB experiences that I found on the web and I am really excited about doing.

One is going to this fancy hotel with apparently the best rooftop pool in Havana and getting a day pass to hang out there all day, it’s $60 for the day and I think a day of just lying around a pool and using the spa facilities is worth the money and maybe sneaking in a massage too. Hence a day trip to the Gran Hotel Manzana.

And this private restaurant: La Guardia.

It looks amazing and if it’s good enough for Sting and Barack Obama and Natalie Portman, I definitely think it’s worth investigating.

Doing this research really made me think about you too, how we’d have such fun laying poolside, walking Old Havana, finding all the delicious things to eat, Cuban coffee, the beach, just all of it.

And I didn’t call and  won’t, but man, I think about you a lot.

Not every moment of the day, but when it comes to traveling you are so on my mind it’s a challenge.

I wish you well where ever you are.

I haven’t a clue to your schedule anymore.

I wish you would reach out and I’m ok that you won’t.

I’m still not over you, don’t think I will ever be, but I might, just might, be starting to get through.

Havana, Cuba, Baby

April 9, 2019 by

That’s right.

I am going to CUBA!

I just booked my ticket for July.

Yeah.

I know, Cuba in July is going to be hot, but fuck I don’t care, I like it hot, steamy, warm, bring it on.

You know where it isn’t hot in July?

San Francisco.

It’s fucking freezing.

It’s foggy, grey, dreary, damp, and hella cold.

Especially where I live, right out by the ocean.

It is not pretty.

The nice summer, the Indian summer glory that I hope no one ever really discovers except the locals is mid to late September and early October.

Then its glorious.

But July?

Forget it.

Crap weather.

I was going to go to Hawaii.

That had been the plan.

But.

I kept getting disgruntled when I looked.

So expensive.

The flights have been steadily going up and what had once seemed reasonable and doable began to look much less so, especially when the cost of the tickets easily eclipsed what I had paid for my round trip ticket to Paris in December.

Granted, Paris in December is during the off-season.

But one would think that Hawaii isn’t all that packed in July.

The tickets though and the cost of accommodations was depressing.

Do I want to spend that kind of money to lie around on a beach?

Will I get bored.

I suspected I would.

Would I get resentful and annoyed at the expense?

I think I would have.

Really I was mostly worried about getting bored.

I mean.

Sure, a nice lay around on a beach is all good, but I couldn’t actually imagine doing it for an extended period of time.

One friend said five days was his max and then he was done.

Another friend said a week was way too long and that it felt like paradise with strip malls.

I spent a lot of time on Air BnB trying to find accommodations I liked that weren’t too expensive or didn’t look like my grandmother’s kitchen.

Nothing against my grandmother, I love her, but do I want to spend a lot of money to stay in a place that looks like her kitchen?

No.

I did find one place and it was a bit more than I wanted but I compromised and figured better to stay somewhere that would make me happy.

And the site went down.

And there was a glitch in the dates.

And sorry, we don’t know what’s wrong.

But basically for two days straight I couldn’t book it.

I took that as a sign.

I felt bad for not wanting to go to Hawaii.

Shouldn’t I want to go?

I am sure it’s lovely.

But what do I like to do on vacation?

I like to walk around and see things, I like architecture, I like museums, I like, really like people watching.

I felt flummoxed and a bit baffled at myself, did I or did I not want to go to Hawaii?

When it came right down to it I realized I did not.

And that’s ok!

It’s ok to change my mind and its ok to know that I am a savvy traveler and I would really rather go somewhere more exotic and have an adventure in an urban environment.

I like cities.

I am a city kind of gal.

Don’t get me wrong, I love being out in nature, but when I think about traveling I want to go to a city.

I have always found the idea of Cuba and specifically Havana, very appealing.

All the Art Deco, the Prado Theater, the Habana Vieja (Old Havana), the churches and all the vintage cars, the colonial architecture, Cuban coffee, veranda life, sitting on a balcony or in a square having fruit and coffee, walking around and really seeing something different.

Also, there are plenty of beaches in Cuba.

As soon as my friend said, “strip mall” I knew I wasn’t going to Hawaii.

I wanted something more.

So, yeah, I bought a ticket.

There’s some hoops to go through, you can’t really travel to Cuba on a tourist Visa, you must have a reason to go.

I did a lot of research and the category that best fit me was that I was going to support “the Cuban People” which means that I won’t be staying anywhere or buying anything that has any ties to the military or government.

Fine with me.

I’ll support the local artists and musicians.

I will stay, fingers crossed at Hotel Chez Nous.

You have to love that it’s a “French” named casa.

It’s considered a “Casa Particular” which means a local family that runs a “hotel” or sort of “boarding house”.

The rooms are in two different homes in Old Havana, one that is old school Colonial and the other is Art Deco.

You can’t reserve online, you have to make a request, so I sent off my request and hopefully I’ll be staying there.

The room I want is 45 Cuc, Cuban convertible peso (which is pretty much one Cuc to one dollar) a night!

I request the Art Deco single with a balcony.

That’s my style, sitting on a balcony in Old Havana, overlooking a square smack in the middle of Old Havana.

Yes please.

Bring on the sundresses, sandals, iced cuban coffees con leche, walks along the old port, visits to churches and museums, and yes, some spicy Cuban food.

God damn I am excited

I did not feel excited by Hawaii.

I feel ecstatic about Havana.

Nervous too, I don’t speak Spanish and there are some hoops to jump through to get the Visa but, overall I’m fucking thrilled.

But hell yeah, Havana, baby.

It’s going to be one hot, sexy summer.

Well, at least nine days of it will.

Heh.

 

Too Tired

April 6, 2019 by

To vacation.

I mean.

To book a vacation.

I just tried and frankly it’s just not happening.

I have been thinking about going to Hawaii in July and staying in Paia, Maui where my grandmother was born in 1928.

I looked at flights.

I looked at Air BnB.

Nothing was appealing.

Nothing made me excited.

Granted I’m pretty worn out from today.

Today was my first real full day back to work and back with clients.

I’m tired.

My body is sore.

I thought about going out and doing the deal up in Bernal after I saw my last client, but I felt rather kaput and just drove home.

I did a phone check in and decided I wanted to walk down to the beach for the sunset.

Which was not spectacular, but it was pretty in its own way.

I thought about the conversation I had with my boss about this upcoming summer.

The family bought their tickets for their summer travel and they will be gone for six weeks!

Six weeks!

I am going to have six weeks of paid vacation from June 24th through August 4th.

I am thrilled.

Even though I am so fucking tired it’s hard to be excited right now.

I sort of just want to make tea and call it a night.

But I also thought maybe I should look at flights and places to stay and honestly it just wasn’t at all thrilling

I need to sleep on it and not pressure myself into buying anything yet.

I am not sure why exactly I’m hesitating, but I am and I’m just going to honor that.

It doesn’t feel quite right to book a trip right now and i don’t know why, but it doesn’t feel good.

Of course, I also note to myself that it was hella easy to book for Paris and I basically leapt on the deal I found.

Which was only $7 more than the round trip tickets I was looking at for Hawaii.

Granted, I got one hell of a steal on the tickets to Paris, but something about them being the same price basically and I just sort of balked.

Maybe I don’t want to go to Hawaii?

Will I be bored with ten days of lying around on the beach?

I mean.

I don’t know.

I’m just going to chalk it up to I’m tired, I shouldn’t decide anything when I am tired.

Call it a night.

Make some tea.

Rest some more.

The days off have melted away and I’m not fully 100% but life is back to being 100% on.

So I think I will not beat myself up about feeling indecisive about booking a trip and just chill out tonight.

I don’t need to figure out anything right now.

Not a damn thing.

Nope.

But hey.

I am going to have six weeks off.

Got any suggestions?

I Have Forgotten

April 5, 2019 by

The sound of your laugh.

I cried on the way home from my meeting.

Listening to French House Music that is not supposed to make me sad.

“Boy turns to girl and says, I love you so.”

“Boy turns to girl and says, I love you so.”

“Boy turns to girl and says, I love you so.”

You could see how that did not actually work out so well for me.

A crow landed on the porch at work today.

It sat bobbing on the thin railing staring into the patio glass doors.

Looking at me.

I was bent over picking up toys from the floor.

Matchbox cars.

Legos.

A stray ribbon from a dolls tousled red hair.

The crow looked at me.

I told him to tell you to come for me.

I know.

Fairytale stuff.

But I did it anyway.

I have forgotten the sound of your laugh.

Do you know how destroyed that makes me feel?

I have been in pain.

I am in pain.

It is all just pain.

The sunset.

You.

The moonrise.

You.

The sea swell and waves rolling into the beach.

All you.

I wrote you a letter yesterday.

I forgot to write you poetry since we have gone our ways.

Separate and apart.

But not really parted.

I realized that I had not as it was so hard, so painful.

I have ghost images of words and fragments of feelings that tell me what the poems might have been about.

You may hazard a guess.

They were sad poems.

My imaginary epistles to you.

I can’t remember how you laugh.

I can see it, I can see your smile, but I can’t hear you.

All I hear is the sound of my own sobbing in the crook of my elbow.

Head bent over the table I am writing at.

I had not thought about losing your voice.

I have pictures of you.

I look once in a while.

Until I start to cry.

Then I stop.

The picture of us in front of the fire in D.C.

Still it haunts my computer.

Still.

Pops up whenever I connect my phone to my computer.

Your face.

Mine in silhouette.

Your arm around me.

Why did I have to lose your laugh today?

Why?

I have lost so much already.

This is not a poem.

This is not a cry for help.

This is just me sad and alone crying into my hands.

While fire races up my side and burns me from the inside out.

I lost your laugh today.

I will never be the same again.

Never.

Again.

Dear Bunny

April 1, 2019 by

I miss you.

I have come so close to reaching out to you, I cannot even tell you how close I have come.

So.

Fucking.

Close.

So I made myself reach out to others.

That was hard.

When the one person I really wanted to connect with was you.

You to hold me.

You to help me through the pain.

Wow.

The pain.

Excruciating.

I haven’t experienced physical pain like this for sometime, if ever.

Not this long, not this bad.

It seems sometimes worse at night, when I’m tired and I know it’s time to sleep and I find myself lying in bed just after having said my prayers and hoping you’re being taken care of and praying for relief from the pain and from the sadness of not being connected to you and I go to bed crying.

Tears for the loss of you in my life.

Tears for the pain I am in physically.

Tears for not being able to ask the one person I’d like to most in the word to comfort me, to please, please, please, comfort me.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

I’m going to be super powerful, let me tell you.

But mostly I am just writing because I have this moment when I feel like I can.

I have wanted to blog the last few nights but all I have to see is that I’m in pain and it sucks and I’m probably going to have to call in sick tomorrow to work, at least my person is telling me I should and, well, if you saw what the shingles look like and you knew how much pain I was in, you’d want me to as well.

And I will.

Just not quite yet.

But soon.

They haven’t gotten much better.

Although I think I’m getting “used to” the pain.

Ugh.

Anyway.

I felt compelled to write and I have been thinking about you so much, so, so, so much.

I had a dream about you last night.

I didn’t actually have dreams about you until recently and I was wondering when I would and then this last week, dreams galore.

I dreamt you came back early from Hawaii sick and showed up at the Wednesday night spot we used to frequent.

I dreamt that you came back as Robin Williams, but I knew it was you, while I was at the Castro Theater watching the Princess Bride and you told me you’d be back for me in a year.

And this morning I dreamt you where in my kitchen, leaning against the sink watching me sleep.

I was so mad I woke up.

You looked so handsome in a navy suit, with the top button of your crisp white shirt unbuttoned, and the look in your eyes as you smiled at me.

I woke up because I was in pain.

The shingles are spread all over my right side hip, right side of my back and on the right side of my tummy.

I wake up a lot from the pain, I haven’t gotten solid sleep for the last few nights, although I’m certainly “resting” quite a bit, propped up on my bed, in my bunny slippers, with the soft pink velvet throw over my lap and the JellyCat pink bunny you gave me for Christmas two years ago tucked under my arm.

I spend a lot of time on that bed.

I wanted to fall back asleep and see what happened in the dream.

Would you come over and hold me?

Would you make it all better?

I recall with distinct detail how you told me if I ever needed you, you’d be there.

And I have felt that so much these last few days.

I need you.

And.

I can’t have you the way that I need you.

So I haven’t reached out.

Suffice to say that’s been painful too.

Loving and needing you and there’s just not enough to go around.

I miss you bunny.

I miss you so.

And like that awful, good, sad, stupid, country song of Willie Nelson’s, I don’t really think I will get over losing you, but I will get through.

It’s been five weeks now since we saw each other.

And it’s been terribly hard.

And I’m getting through.

With shingles now, thanks God, that was just un-fucking-expected.

But I am getting through.

A friend came over yesterday with his slow cooker and made me a pot of black-eyed peas and suggested that I needed to get laid and get over you.

But I don’t actually think that will work.

And frankly, with the shingles I don’t think such a great idea.

My heart would break more from it not being with you.

Maybe one day, just not today, or in the foreseeable future.

I guess why I’m writing all of this is that there was something about dreaming you up in my kitchen, seeing you there this morning as if you were really there, that has softened me and I felt forgiveness slide over me warm and soft and comforting.

Oh, I’m still sad.

But I don’t feel so angry anymore.

Maybe that’s the shingles, all that anger and hurt flashed out on my body, blistering and tender and raw and shear pain.

I told my girlfriend who came over today that it was like someone has taken the little torch they use in kitchens to make creme brulee to my skin.

The anger and hurt are there and I think that I’m completely ready to let it all go.

You did the best you could.

You love me and I know you still do.

I love you.

And if it was meant to be I can’t fuck it up.

I can’t.

If we are supposed to be together the Universe will conspire to make it happen.

And if not.

There’s not a damn thing I can do to manipulate it into happening.

Which, in the end, is really why I haven’t called you.

I didn’t want to use the physical pain I’m in to wrangle you back into my life.

If I’m to have you.

I want you fully.

All of you.

And if I can’t, no amount of manipulation will make it work.

So best to leave you alone.

If you’re supposed to come back to me, well, you will.

And in the mean time.

I really, really, really need to heal from these shingles.

I love you bunny.

I hope you’re doing ok wherever you are.

I hope you are finding your way to happiness.

I really do.

xoxo

Always, your baby girl.

Trying To Not

March 30, 2019 by

Get abroad the self-pity express.

But I’m not doing so hot and I’m afraid that I might have slipped on when I was taking pictures of my bunny slippers to post to Instagram.

The only part of me I want to photograph at the moment.

I look a mess.

I cried off a lot of mascara, wiped down the face with makeup removing wipe, but I still look pretty wrecked.

I had to cancel my Friday after work client.

I went to the doctor today.

It’s official.

I have shingles.

And motherfucker.

They hurt!

I am in a lot of pain.

I was tentatively offered narcotics, my doc knows my history though and I was pretty up front about not wanting anything hard.

So I’m doing 600mg of ibuprofen three times a day for pain management.

Frankly.

Hasn’t seemed to work for shit.

But who knows, I’m not going to not take them as the pain is god awful.

I had one spot of shingles yesterday and now I have them all over my right hip and wrapped around to the small of my back.

Tiny red patches of blisters.

Just makes me want to cry.

I’m on house arrest.

I’m contagious, to anyone who’s not had chicken pox, for a few days until the antiviral meds kick in.

I should be fine by the end of the weekend, I’m on a seven-day course for the meds, but I’m being on the safe side of things.

I cancelled all my clients for Saturday, tomorrow.

Aside from the ethical ramifications I really didn’t know if I could sit through four therapy clients.

Sometimes just shifting where I’m sitting is enough to make me gasp out loud in pain.

I’m trying to stay pretty still.

And the pain has progressively gotten worse throughout the day.

Fortunately for me the doctor said we caught it fast enough so the antiviral should kick it out within the week.

I fucking hope so.

I cannot handle this for too long.

My person said it was God trying to slow me down.

Fuck slowing me down.

I’m at a full on dead stop.

I couldn’t even really do homework today.

I just felt demoralized.

I cancelled on the friend’s birthday party I was supposed to go to tomorrow night and I also cancelled my dentist appointment for tomorrow plus the ladies I usually meet with on Sunday as well as my person I normally meet with.

I’ll just be staying home, watching the sky change colors and trying to not cry.

I suppose I’ll give into the schoolwork, I don’t feel that I can not attend to it, but not tonight, obviously.

Netflix and chill.

A very, very, very still.

Chill.

Sigh.

When You Lose

March 29, 2019 by

When you lose the one you love
You think your world has ended
You think your world will be a waste of life
Without them in it
You feel there’s no way to go on
Life is just a sad, sad song
But love is bigger than us all
The end is not the end at all

It’s not somethin’ you get over
But it’s somethin’ you get through
It’s not ours to be taken
It’s just a thing we get to do

Life goes on and on
And when it’s gone
It lives in someone new
It’s not somethin’ you get over
But it’s somethin’ you get through

It’s not somethin’ you get over
But it’s somethin’ you get through
It’s not ours to be taken
It’s just a thing we get to do

Life goes on and on
And when it’s gone
It lives in someone new
It’s not somethin’ you get over
But it’s somethin’ you get through
It’s not somethin’ you get over
But it’s somethin’ you get through

 

Well.

Willie Nelson hit that right on the fucking head.

I was at work tonight and in some pain, although not as much pain as I am in now.

Fuck.

This is not emotional pain either, this is me being sick, this is me not going to work in the morning, this is me in excruciating pain going to the doctor tomorrow.

My person and I just had a talk and he suggested I might even try urgent care.

But that feels like too much and it’s already 9:30pm.

I’m just going to muddle through.

I think I have shingles.

Or I should say, my boss thinks I have shingles and after talking to the doctor’s assistant at One Medical I probably do.

It’s awful.

I’ve not been in this kind of pain in sometime.

I have one small nickel size patch on my right hip that is red and has tiny little blisters all over it, I saw it yesterday after noon when I was wondering why my back and hip hurt so much and I thought it was a spider bite.  I noticed the blisters late afternoon today and showed my boss.

That is not what hurts the most, the little blistery spot, although I’ve yelped in pain a couple of times when my clothes have hit it funny.

No.

What is awful is the muscle pain in the right lower side of my back, if I hadn’t Googled the shit out of shingles I’d have thought something was wrong with my kidneys.  Apparently the muscle ache is the worst and people go to the ER thinking kidneys.

And I started running a fever about a half hour ago.

Fuck.

So this is a short blog.

Just enough to say that hearing the Willie Nelson song at work, and I have never, ever heard it before (the dad was playing it as I got the family set up for dinner) and it hit me so damn hard.

I won’t get over you baby, but I’ll get through.

I’ve had my heart-broken and there’s no getting over you because you were the love of my life.

But.

I’ll get through.

And if I can get through losing you.

I can fucking get through anything.

Blue Hawaii

March 28, 2019 by

And Paris without you.

God damn it.

I’m still pissed at you.

Granted I have my own self to blame for that.

I should not have gone on social media.

I had you blocked.

Not because I was worried about you seeing me, no.

I didn’t want to be looking at your photos.

And I did it anyway.

I looked last night.

I know you’re in Hawaii and I knew you were going to be there and I had to look.

Ugh.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

It doesn’t help that I want to go to Hawaii with you and that the trip I have tentatively planned for July has your name written all over it.

Or that I have thoughts about you in the ocean, swimming, your eyes wet and blue.

I’m so angry still and I’m still so damn sad.

Not as much.

Not every day.

And so, of course, the person to be angry with is me, I know better than to go onto social and look up your photos.

It hurts.

No more of that.

Although, why?

I can’t figure it out, a photo of us pops up every day, every day on my computer despite closing the photo app.

Every day your blue, blue, bluest eyes stare out at me as I see us on the red leather couch in the Air BnB we rented in D.C.  My eyes are closed, I’m kissing the side of your face and you have your arm wrapped around me.

Sometimes the photo makes me jump.

Sometimes I forget it’s there.

I have shut down the computer, restarted the computer, closed the app, and it just randomly pops back up.

Can’t get away from it and I use my computer all the time.

I mean.

Fuck.

I am working on a PhD I drag the damn thing around like it’s a security blanket.

And there you are, sweet face and dreamy and I know that we were in front of a fire and the color of your eyes and the shape of my face, and my hair tumbled down around my shoulders.

Ugh.

It hurts.

Not as bad.

I will admit that.

Things haven’t hurt so awful in the day-to-day.

Get me in my therapy sessions and I’m a fucking mess, but hey, that’s therapy and I leave it there in the wet balls of crumpled tissues streaked with mascara.

I joked with my therapist this past session that my tears must be some kind of napalm right now as I have tried three different kinds of waterproof mascara and the shit just slides off my eyelashes when I cry.

I yelled at you tonight.

In the car.

On the way home.

Thinking about you on an island and me here and then I’ll be going to Paris and well, fuck, you’re supposed to be in Paris with me.

Damn it.

We were supposed to do Paris.

You know it.

I know it.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Paris, baby.

You were supposed to go to Paris with me.

I hella splurged too.

I mean.

I got a place to stay, cute, bohemian, arty, obviously someone who was an avid flea market shopper, and I got a great deal, super cheap, $1,000 less than most of the other places I was looking at.

So I booked it.

And alas.

The woman got back to me and said she wasn’t able to let me rent it as she was going to be in Paris for Christmas.

Oh well.

I went back and looked some more and I looked at hotels and I really had to think about where I wanted to stay and why.

I wanted to make sure I was in the Marais, my best friend lives there and it’s my favorite part of the city and very central.

Hotels were not cheap and I went back to looking at Air BnB.

This one place kept calling me back and it was more than I wanted to spend, but then again, I knew I had the money in savings to cover it, I’d have nine months to save up more, I deserve to stay somewhere nice, the last two times I stayed in Paris I stayed with friends and didn’t pay for accommodations and the time before that I stayed in a hella cheap place and regretted it almost immediately.

I kept going back to this listing and then I said, fuck it.

I’m booking it.

It’s where I’m supposed to be and I’m going to let myself stay there.

Gorgeous tapestry wall paper.

Fireplace!

Full kitchen.

Dining area.

Plus red velvet chairs.

Couch with a red velvet throw.

Separate bedroom up this sweet curving stair case.

Big huge bed under the eaves.

Gigantic bathtub in the room!

Bathtubs are a rarity in French apartments, so to get one and it’s big, huge luxury.

It’s super pretty and I’m super grateful I booked it and I paid for the whole thing up front.

Done and done.

I was so excited when I booked it the night before last.

And then.

Tonight.

I wasn’t.

I was hurt and angry and thinking about you and your vacation pictures and I just yelled at you in the car, how we’re supposed to be in Paris together, walking the streets, eating all the food, cheese, chacuterie, drinking all the coffee, snuggling on the red velvet couch, having sex on the red velvet couch, the bed, the floor in front of the fire-place, the bathtub, meeting fellows in church basements, seeing all the sites, making out in public, holding hands.

I wanted to take you to the one cafe I know about in the 11th that’s super good and order food for you in French and then happy and replete I would walk you along the Seine to look at the Eiffel Tower when it lights up with glitter lights.

Damn it.

We were supposed to do Paris together.

I know that the sting will wear off, I mean, my trip is not until December, but right now, I feel hurt and sad and yes, angry at you.

Oh God.

The places I wanted to take you.

A walk in Pere LaChaise cemetary.

And the L’ile des Cygnetes, Island of the Swans, in the middle of the Seine, that has one of Statue of Liberty models on it that the artist did as he worked on the scale for the one sent to Americar.

Oh.

And all the outdoor markets, buying cheese and fruit and bread for you.

I wanted to take you to the amazing restaurant in Belleville that my friend took me to last summer and then go to Le Chat Noir and do the Paris Open Mic and recite you poems I have written about you.

But I won’t.

I won’t be doing any of those things.

I’ll be taking a bath under the eaves of a mansion on Rue de Parc Royale.

A bath with bubbles.

And I will sit in front of the fire and fingers crossed, not be sad to be alone, again, in Paris, without you.

 

There is So Much

March 23, 2019 by

To write about.

And where to begin?

I almost titled this blog, One Hour, as an homage to something quite big.

I also thought about naming it, “Are you Here?” as I suspect my ex is back in town.

At least it feels that way.

More about that later.

Then I thought I should write about my awesome and amazing Mike Doughty experience and having gotten to see him on Wednesday of this week and how I played hooky from clients and went out on a school night.

I didn’t really play hooky, I just rescheduled them for later in the week, I had one tonight and I’ll see the other tomorrow after my regular Saturday clients.

Then I thought, oh yeah, I should call this, “Vive La France!”

As I bought a ticket to Paris last night!

Yeah.

So.

All the things.

All of them.

So much going on.

Plus, of course, the school thing that is happening and how I managed to get all my papers done and turned in on time and also how I got back some really amazing comments on my last couple of papers.

“Clarity, erudition, adept usage of third person, meticulous APA style,” I could go on, but then I think that’s just ego.

I”m right on schedule with school at the moment and extremely happy about that, despite feeling a little disconnected from school since I did not get much time this week at work to do homework.

The family had the flu.

Like seriously bad, fevers, aches, chills, super bad sore throat, coughing.

I do not know how I escaped, but I did.

I also got my flu shot this year so that might have helped and as soon as the family was diagnosed with the flu at the doctors they called me and said call my doctor and get Tamiflu, which is a preventative medicine that will work if taken within 72 hours of exposure.

So I’ve been taking that all week and seemed to have skated by the flu.

Thank fucking God.

I cannot afford to be sick.

And.

I don’t like being sick.

Even the small part of me that rather enjoys lying around all day in bed.

The rest of me drives itself crazy when I’m sick.

So I’m super happy I avoided it.

But man, work was a tough one this week.

Which made it easy to ask off for time to work with a client.

Yes.

It’s official.

This week I got my tenth client.

I took a leap of faith when the person reached out and offered expanded hours beyond what I have available.

Meaning.

Wednesdays I work from 9 a.m. to 5p.m. then see clients at 5:30p.m., 6:30p.m. and 7:30p.m.

I offered the client a 4:30p.m. slot.

Technically I’m working as a nanny, but I’ve been in conversation for months now that at some point I would slowly begin the transitioning down of nanny hours for therapy hours.

I hesitated for just a brief moment but knew, really knew, that I had to offer hours that would overlap into my nanny shifts.

And the client took the Wednesday slot.

Which means I have to be done at the nanny gig by 4p.m. now on Wednesdays.

One hour less of being a nanny.

One hour more of being a therapist.

Plus.

This new client found me on Psychology Today and was not a referral from my agency, meaning the client is full fee.

Yippee!

The more full fee clients I get the faster I will transition out of nannying.

I mean, I love the family, but $30/hour versus $140 an hour.

Well.

I know what works better for me.

Anyway.

That’s therapy business.

Then there’s Paris business which in a way segues into ex-boyfriend business.

Yesterday at work I was checking e-mails in a brief moment of time when I wasn’t picking up used Kleenex, hydrating some small child, washing dishes, drawing, cuddling, or making hot tea with honey and saw an interesting email from a friend.

It was an e-mail that he forwarded that there was a one day sale happening for round trip tickets to Paris.

Oooh.

I wasn’t planning on going to Paris this year, I’ve been planning on going to Hawaii in July,(but still haven’t done anything about it as I’m waiting on my employers to let me know when they’re going to be in Finland and if, probably not, but if they are also planning on taking me to Helsinki with them)  going to Maui and staying in Paia, where my grandmother was born in 1928.

But.

I was curious about the flights and a little bug got in my ear and so I searched and shit, the price was too good to pass by.

So I picked the best time for me to go, end of the fall semester, in December.

Yes.

That’s right.

I’ll be in Paris on my birthday and for Christmas.

I fly out of SFO on December 17th, landing the next day at Charles de Gaulle on December 18th, my birthday, in the early afternoon.  I’ll fly back on December 27th.

So I’ll be there from my birthday through Christmas.

I will sit in cafes, go to museums (the Louvre, the D’Orsay, the Jeu de Paume, the Pompidou–which is open on Christmas, I know where I will be, wandering the galleries there for sure on Christmas day, the Orangerie, the Palais de Tokyo, the Grand Palais, the Petit Palais, the Musee de l’Art Moderne), walk everywhere, read books, go do the deal with the Paris fellowship, hang out with my best girlfriend from my Masters degree cohort…we’ve already made plans to go to the ballet (I messaged her right after I bought the ticket).

I got the ticket from Air France round trip, direct flights there and back for $579.32!

I still can’t believe that!

My girlfriend asked me why December after exclaiming at the cost of the ticket.

I told her that my birthday and Christmas have been really tied up with my ex the last two years and maybe its better for me to be in Paris then in San Francisco and really just do something for myself.

I always wanted him to come to Paris with me and I had even brought it up in the days before we broke up that I wanted to plan a trip with him there.

It is such a screamingly romantic city.

And he’s such a foodie, he would have loved it.

I’m still sad we didn’t get to experience that together.

She understood.

Plus, I told her that it makes sense with my school schedule and it’s the slowest time of year for therapy clients….the last two holiday seasons were really slow and I hear that it’s that way for most therapist.

So.

Yeah.

Booked that ticket.

I don’t think I’ll stay with my girlfriend, despite knowing she’d let me, I think I want a little more autonomy and she’s got young twins, who are super sweet and adorable, but the house isn’t huge and as much as I loved staying with them, I don’t want to stress them out at Christmas.

I figure I’ll Air BnB in the Marais where they live, it’s super central and I know it well enough, and just be an independent lady at Christmas time in the City of Lights.

God.

There’s more to say.

The feeling of my ex being in town, and wanting him to reach out or to somehow bump into him, it’s big, but I’ve not got time to write more.

I need to get up early, lots of clients tomorrow.

So.

I bid you adieu and I’ll see you on the flip.

 


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