What A Day

A good day.

But quite the day.

A full day.

For sure.

Into work, lots of loving on the charges, family friend visit, lots of kids running around, and then quiet, a reprieve, unexpected in the middle of the day.

Snuggles and nap time with the baby and then the family and their friends went out to lunch and I had nearly an hour to myself.

It was so nice.

I haven’t had that since school has gotten out.

I ate a slow, relaxed lunch.

I looked at the skyline from the back porch, I made a few phone calls and connected with a girlfriend I haven’t seen since January, we made tentative plans to get together when the family I nanny for is on vacation.

So nice to reconnect.

I was to do the camp pick up for the middle child and I enjoyed the hell out of riding the MUNI, not having any charges, and then taking a nice quiet walk to BiRite, picking up snacks for my charge and a few things for the house.

Pick up at school was great.

My charge and I ate cherries and apricots and talked about sunshine and being nice, “I’m going to tell mom that I was kinda nice to you today,” she said and squeezed my hand tight.

I love her so much.

She is always the best.

Even when she is a handful of fierce fiery little girl.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

She has a voice and I really love how her parents let her have that voice.

I was shushed often.

There was a lot of don’t speak unless spoken to in my home.

I didn’t really know that children could engage and interact and have conversations with their parents.

It was sort of, get out-of-the-way and be quiet or go outside and leave me alone.

I’m ok with that.

I developed a big case of the curiosity at a very young age and a desire to explore, seek, find, and experience whatever I could.

I had, and still do have a great big imagination.

I don’t really escape into fantasy anymore, life is real and reality is so much more interesting, but for a while, when I was young, fantasy was my hard-core go to.

And I was, and am, dare I say it, creative.

I concocted lots of games, did relay races with kids in the neighborhood, made up my own version of Kick the Can, Ghost in the Graveyard, Ding Dong Ditch, and a plethora of other things.

The summer I watched the Iron Man triathlon on television and became absolutely mesmerized in the event.

I staged a mini Iron Man, I called, aptly, Iron Kids.

There was a run around the apartment complex, followed by a bicycle race.

I couldn’t do the swimming in the ocean part, seeing as how we were in Wisconsin and the nearest pool was miles away, but I am sure I improvised something.

It might have been running in and out of all the wading pools in the courtyard.

I found my voice in motion and then again in books and escaping to the library.

I was always reading.

Always.

I would hide under my blankets at night with a flashlight and read.

I got yelled at a lot to do that.

Now.

I wonder, would a parent yell at a kid for reading past bedtime?

Perhaps using their phone and texting or being active on social media, but reading?

I think, probably not.

Ooh.

I got a new book in the mail.

Such a gift.

To get a book.

That is not for school.

I look forward to reading it.

I don’t have much time now, but it is something that I can flip through and I will be able to enjoy it when I am off from the family in July.

I am still trying to suss out if I’m going to travel.

One of my clients who I see on Thursdays will be gone for vacation and his times overlap mine and the availability I have to travel.

Maybe there’s a long weekend in my near future.

I am open to all possibilities.

And I’m super psyched.

Tomorrow is Friday!

I have a client consult after work.

I will have a long day still.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to sneak in a little time with my fellows, if I get out of work fast enough, and then I’ll have a client at 7:30 p.m.

It’s a consult, so there’s the possibility it may only go a half hour.

So if I don’t get out of work in time I’ll see about doing the deal after seeing the consult.

Then the weekend.

Which is full, since I still have to go to my Group Supervision.

But.

I’ll have some pockets of time.

I’ll do yoga in the morning both Saturday and Sunday.

I desperately need a mani/pedi/eyebrow waxing session.

And I do need to do grocery shopping, cooking, and errands.

Plus meeting with a lady Sunday afternoon.

And still.

There will be time.

There will be time to stop and breathe and love.

And maybe.

Yes.

Read a little for pleasure.

Such a sexy thing.

Oh life.

It is so.

So.

So.

Good.

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On The Road Again

Albeit a little chilly for it.

I got my scooter back today.

Hurray!

I researched scooter jackets online last night and resolved that I would wait until I went into the shop and see what they had there, that way, even though it may cost a few bucks more, I would be covered and happy in the chilly night on my commute home.

Except.

Gah.

All they had in my size was a horrid army green and orange jacket.

I mean ew.

I paid for my scooter, $246.81 and scooted out the door.

I just now bought a new pink Corazzo jacket on line.

Fuck it.

I found a cheaper one than what I was looking at last night and hopefully I’ll have it by Monday.

Until then I can layer up.

It wasn’t too bad a ride home though.

I was going to go up to the Slovenian Hall, but once I was going into the wind I realized I really didn’t have enough layers on to make it a comfortable ride, so I just got myself home a little early.

I figure I’ll get up early and do a yoga class before work.

Ah work.

More and more of it is cooking and less and less is with the boys.

I am going to start looking for other avenues.

Less housework, more kids, toddlers, or my preference, babies.

I’ve got with my current family through December.

I’ll spend a little time putting together my resume and updating things.

I don’t really think it will be too hard to find a new position.

In fact, the mom told me when we were talking before I headed out to Burning Man, that if something came up that was of more service to me and my needs to go for it.

The boys are both in school and so much of what I do now is household stuff.

Laundry, dry cleaning, runs to the market.

But!

Oh what an awesome run to the market today.

I ran into a playa friend on the street!

I have never seen him off playa and thought I was hallucinating.

Man, that person looks a lot like…

“Hey!  What are you doing here, I thought you were on your way back to London?!”

We hugged and I met his friends, who were still in Burning Man mode and instead of getting handshakes I got great big hugs.

That was nice.

We chatted and I recommended a restaurant in the hood and then went back to work.

I made gyoza tonight.

My first time making steamed dumplings.

Earlier this week I made spinach, sausage, and mushroom lasagna.

And the usual broccoli soup, sushi rice, oatmeal, and prepped veggies and fruit the family likes.

Which is to say that my job seems to be evolving more and more into a personal chef deal.

On one hand I don’t mind.

On the other, as I was reminded by a friend, “just because you’re good at it, doesn’t mean you have to do it.”

I remember looking out the window at one point today, wistful and a little sad.

It was beautiful, sunny, the skies so blue.

And the boys were with dad doing Legos and mom was doing mom stuff and I was in the kitchen.

I haven’t had a job like this before.

And that’s great.

It’s a new experience.

But.

Man I miss getting outside to the parks.

I did manage to get outside once this week.

Once.

It’s Thursday and I have been out to the park once with the boys.

Remember this feeling, I told myself, as I struggled to make the top bunk on the boys bed–it’s special size and awkward as fuck to fit the sheets on it–remember this feeling, this is not what you want to be doing for work.

I haven’t had many conversations with myself with that amount of clarity.

In fact.

The last time I told myself to remember how bad something felt I was hung over.

I mean.

It’s a bit of a stretch to compare the two things, but I had the exact set of words pop into my head as I did that one time I was staring at myself in the mirror at the house on Potrero and 25th Street.

“Remember how bad this feels,” I admonished myself.

There was more conversation that followed and a phone call from a friend that lead to me cracking a bottle of beer and sipping it in the hallway while I chatted with him.

I wasn’t halfway through that bottle before I was on the other line calling my dealer for a delivery.

I had forgotten the words before they had even dissolved into the bathroom tiles.

I stepped all over them and went my drug addled way to further create some havoc and ruin.

Ah desperation.

It worked though, it wasn’t much longer thereafter that I found myself in a church basement doing the deal.

Even though I had no clue what the deal was, just that this group of people suddenly swooped in and rescued me.

I have to rescue me from this job.

Before I forget and I get lax and I’m not happy and I’m letting go my boundaries again.

I had to hold tight to them today.

It feels like they are already getting pushed and I’ve only been back three days.

So.

Gently.

Putting.

It.

Out.

There.

I am available for a new nanny gig.

Babies preferable.

Parents that don’t work from home.

If it’s a great match I’ll give my current family notice, they will understand that I need to take care of myself as we have already had the conversation.

That being said.

I’ve got the job through the end of December should I want to stay.

I have also had it suggested to me that I can be a personal assistant or some such thing.

I make great broccoli soup.

Heh.

I’ll be looking for close to full time, but it doesn’t need to be 40 hours, 35 will do.

And, yes, I’m in graduate school, so the ask that I received a few weeks ago to work 50-60 is not on the table.

No more than 40 hours please.

And.

Thank you.

Often times putting things out on my blog is my way of working through whatever actions I need to take next in my daily life.

Thank God tomorrow is Friday.

This week has been big and full.

And very.

Very.

Very.

Adult.

I’m ready for some play time.

Seriously.

You Got Some ‘Splain’in

To do.

I have not told you guys something!

I’m off Tinder.

Yup.

It’s official.

I cancelled the app and deleted it off my phone.

Now comes the hard part.

The sit and wait part, the let it happen without looking for it part, the re-integration of lost things and places and experiences, the growing up part.

The.

Oh, dare I say it.

The adulting part.

I did some work at Burning Man and not all of it was fluffing, a lot of it was spiritual work, growth, therapeutic work, allowing myself to look at it like a dusty spa of spirituality and a sort of recovery conference in the desert.

I got my God on.

Heck, I even did a shaman journey.

Yeah, I know, shush.

I have been living in California for 14 years, please, it rubs off.

And I was ready for it.

Especially.

When I ran into my friend who was at the first camp I stayed with ten burns ago.  We hugged and reconnected and talked and I shared my experiences being in graduate school for therapy and psychology and that I want to pursue a doctorate now, I mean, really, it might be time for a new playa name, Dr. Carmen has a nice ring to it you know.

Anyway.

We chatted, he’s a therapist and he also does shaman work and I recalled a time when he had offered to take me on a spirit journey and how I sort of pooh poohed it.

Then.

I found myself wanting to ask when I saw him this past week at the burn.

And.

I found a great big lump of fear on my chest.

Oh.

How interesting.

When I feel that much resistance to something it is rather indicative to me that it’s time to do some work on something.

So.

I asked, and I admitted my fear and then we laughed and he said, of course and then asked me to ponder a question or to sit and be with what it was that I wanted to address.

What popped into my head?

Sober boyfriend.

Yeah, like that.

We met the next day in the heat of the afternoon, in the middle of a white out dust storm.

Things were said, deals were done, navigation of emotions, experiences, lots and lots of therapeutic theory.

He knows his stuff and I recognized a lot of the techniques he used and I wasn’t uncomfortable with the way it went, despite, yes, there being some fear there too, but mostly a curiosity to see what would arrive and an eagerness to address these baffling relationship issues that seem to crop up for me often when I am least expecting or most wanting to have a relationship.

It’s like a wall, glass, that I can feel, that I can see through, but can’t quite figure out how to get to the other side.

We talked and talked and got down to some root things, which when expressed from his perspective was obvious, so obvious, it made me feel a bit baffled then I realized how I am most often unable to see what others see so clearly, I have no perspective on my own life or abilities.

None.

Hearing all the things come out of my friends mouth, with a broader perspective of my history, trauma, and adult male patterning that I did when I was a little girl.

Well.

Fuck.

Of course I tend toward being single.

Hello safety.

I am either chasing after the unavailable boy or I am being the mother to said boy.

I don’t date adult men.

I don’t know how since I hadn’t seen healthy adult relationships growing up as a little girl.

I often tend toward two ways of being in relation to men I want to date.

I have been the mother–my longest lasting relationship was five years and I was definitely the care taker.

And then.

A long series of men, boys, that I chased, who were not often, or ever really interested in dating me romantically.

These paradigms made a lot of sense to me and I think I have been dancing around this knowledge for such a long time that when it was finally revealed it was less a great big aha moment, but more of a softening and relaxing into myself.

I had a lot of compassion for myself and a gentleness that I found so tender that I was in tears just from the relief of that.

So.

My friend made some suggestions.

Stop chasing.

Stop being the mother.

Write it out.

What does an adult man look like, what qualities do I want?

And lastly.

Be patient.

Don’t expect it overnight and stop looking for it.

It won’t be the impetuous passion of a sixteen year old in a romantic crush.

It will probably not be someone I’m crazy wild about at first glance, it will be softer, and I will be pursued and I will be seen and my power, who I am will be my calling card.

He will be strong.

He will not complete me.

I won’t have to mother, and I will not chase.

What a relief.

At first when I deleted Tinder I was pretty ok with it.

Then.

Yes.

I did re-install the app for a half day.

But.

I realized.

Nope.

It doesn’t serve, not after the experience in the dome, in the dust, in the heat, my heart opened, the little girl response to dating laid to rest in the resplendent gold dust light.

My friend said write about it, at least once a day, a paragraph, what my adult man looks like, what I want.

And.

Then.

Heh.

Text him when I start dating.

It won’t be long.

I’m ready.

I am happy, healthy, smart, employed, in graduate school, sober, loving, lovable, funny.

It’s on.

And I’m done with the dating apps and the chase.

I am here and available.

And I don’t need to chase.

I am fucking awesome.

I would date me in a heart beat.

I don’t need fireworks, although passion is lovely, I’m not going to try to make anything happen.

I don’t need to.

It already is.

 

 

One Down

Two to go.

But it’s not as hard this go around.

I don’t know why or how, but I’m getting through a lot better, a lot more relaxed.

It helps that I turned in both the papers that were due and I am completely caught up and on par with all my readings.

I finished up today on my dinner break the tiny few pages I had left before my last class of the day and am very happy to know that for the rest of the weekend all I really need to do is show up and let the classes fall into place.

I had my last run as therapist today also.

Meaning I can sit back on the experience of having done six full hour therapy sessions with a client and now it’s my turn to be the client for the next six sessions.

That and a break from the dyad completely tomorrow, leaves me feeling a lot more relaxed and well, mellow.

Tired.

Of course.

Fuck.

I am tired.

And slightly annoyed, the internet, again, has been really touch and go in my studio for the last week and tonight I haven’t been able to get onto the Wi-Fi at all.

Frustrating.

I do have some things that need addressing, but I paid my phone bill over the phone and if worst comes to worse and I don’t get online tonight, I’ll post up this blog before I head into class tomorrow.

The weather is still a bit nuts out there and I will not be taking my scooter in and I won’t be taking MUNI in either, I will continue to allow myself the luxury of a car.

I got to get a ride in with a friend of mine in the cohort this morning and that was a lovely gift, I got to see her and I avoided the carfare.

That being said, I splurged and did a straight Lyft home tonight instead of doing the shared ride.

I wanted to get home and I wanted to run up to Other Avenues and grab a few groceries for the rest of the class weekend.

Lunch and dinner are packed, my books and notebooks and readers are switched out in my book bag—my Marilyn canvas sack from the Jeu de Paume in Paris.

I have an outfit in mind and all I have to do is this blog and chill the fuck out for a minute or two and let my brain unwind.

And sleep.

I will sleep well tonight.

I never sleep well before the first day back into class, today I got up on probably five, maybe five and a half hours of sleep.

Which, once in a while is ok, but I wouldn’t want to be around me very much if that was a continuing trend.

My brain was busy and it just took a while to drift off last night despite getting into bed sooner than I thought and being a bit tired from the yoga class I took yesterday morning.

I still had busy brain.

Tonight.

Well.

The brain is tired.

Grateful too.

I’m half way through the second semester of my first year of grad school.

This is happening.

I’m getting through.

Rather amazing.

And yes, there’s loads of work to do, and there always will be.

I have chosen a profession in which I will have to constantly be broadening my education and I will need to keep myself up to date and learn, learn new modalities, learn more about cultures, learn more about myself, I will always be learning.

That on one hand can seem exhausting, but on the other is rather fantastic, there is no end to the learning.

Yes.

I will want to be proficient in one area and be a good therapist, but I can go for a PhD, I can go forward and learn new things, I can be competent in more than one area, I can well, be of service and I will continue to find new ways to be and do so.

This is a beautiful thing.

I will always be finding and experiencing and gaining knowledge.

There will always be the learning and the growing and this is life, not just my career path or my new way of exploring how to be of better service to my community, but for myself, I will always be having a conversation with the material and how I can use my experiences to better help another.

It’s fascinating and tiring and amazing all at the same time.

In the therapist break out, after the dyads had finished, the professor leads us, the students who were therapist, through the session and lets us ask questions and break down what came up and for the first time I got to see, really well, totally in action how counter transference works and I was blown away at the power of the tool.

It’s a concept that I have understood at a very heady, intellectual level, and now, after the session today, which was the last session of the six, I got it, I got it bright and loud and clear and it was extraordinary.

In one fell swoop all the theory landed in my lap and showed itself to me and I got it.

I was stunned.

And happy.

I really am going to be a good therapist.

Not to, you know, be egotistical about it, but an honest assessment of my abilities at this point clearly does show an aptitude for the work.

Grateful for all the experiences on the way to this journey.

All the work that I wondered about and the whys and whereof and why am I working so fucking hard and when is this going to pay off and all the doubts, all the time I wondered, really, what am I going to be when I grow up?

A healer.

A helper.

A person of empathy.

A student.

Of life, love, God.

Gods time, I was reminded today is so different from my time.

I want things fast and quick and efficient, I don’t always want to do the work.

But.

Oh.

When I do.

The rewards.

Extraordinary.

I am so grateful to be in graduate school.

Even when I feel overwhelmed and I don’t know how it’s going to get done.

I know.

It will.

It gets done every time I show up and let go of my ideas about what is happening.

“You’re such a different person!” My lunch companion said to me with a chuckle and a sparkle in his eyes, “Remember when we first met?”

I did.

I was a bit mortified how big my defensive structures were when I first started class and how protective I felt about myself and the learning and how I just couldn’t find it to engage with the second year students.

I found myself laughing with him and open and engaged.

I have a dinner date with another friend from the cohort on our break in the late afternoon tomorrow and an ask for a day at the beach with another.

I am living a full, exquisite, divine life.

Not my idea of what it would look like at this point, God’s time, God’s plan, and I am grateful that I did not.

The journey has been so worth it.

No matter what happens, at this point on my path, I am exactly where I am supposed to be and I know it to my core.

That makes my heart happy.

And I get to carry that happiness with me the rest of the weekend.

Just show up.

To the page.

To the mat.

To the classroom.

To my life.

Show up.

Astonishing things will happen.

I promise.

All Grown Up and Shit

Not sure if what I am writing is even going to make it out into the world as a blog.

It may.

It may not.

I am actually a bit incredulous that I am actually utilizing my computer after the epic fail of trying fruitlessly Saturday to fix the problem.

There was no fixing.

And I resigned myself to the fact that the time had come for me to hang up the towel on my lovely little laptop, it has seen me through so much–multiple trips to Burning Man, Paris and back, London, Rome, Oakland, ha–I was loath to let her go.

But it was not working and I don’t know how long it will work tonight.

I feel like I am pinching myself to even be in my blog.

I couldn’t get into my Facebook, which is probably a blessing.

Nor into my Gmail account, which is an annoyance, but I can access both via my phone.

A dear friend told me Saturday as I was freaking out about how I had fucked up my computer and I didn’t know what to do and the damn thing is vintage, obsolete, won’t support the newest platform for browsing, so Safari won’t load and bah!

She talked me off the ledge and said maybe I needed a weekend away from the computer.

What?!

No.

Yes.

NOOOOO!

Yes.

Yes.

YES!

Oh, this is good.

I mean, the weekend is over and I am online and I did just do some big girl stuff, because, as I said, I don’t know if this blog will post, but man I miss writing them, the only thing I really missed over the weekend was the not posting, the rest of the internet trolling I was able to let go of.

Instead I read a lot.

I mean a lot.

I finished the Stephen King novel that I had been trekking through, he’s lost a little of his bite for me, but it was still a decent read and then on Sunday I picked up Althea and Oliver, a novel, a first novel at that, by Cristina Moracho, and read the whole thing.

The WHOLE thing.

I cannot remember the last time I read a book cover to cover in one day.

364 pages.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

The book was great and I got loads of sunshine and I was reminded that it was ok to be sad.

I hate to admit it.

But I have been sad over the weekend.

I miss the ex and that took me a little by surprise.

I think I miss the being with someone.

I liked being a couple.

It’s not an experience I have had much of over the last ten years and I was feeling a little lonely hearts club.

“You are so noticed,” he said to me on the phone as I spelled out my woes, “and make sure you call and let me know when you are feeling sad about >>>>>> there’s probably something underneath it.”

There usually is.

I told someone this weekend after listening to her share a pretty indepth inventory that one of my greatest fears is that I am fat and ugly and will be alone for always.

I mean.

In a nutshell.

That’s the fear.

She looked a goggle at me.

“You are so not!”

Thank you doll.

I know that, but fear, like faith, is a belief in something that is not there.

It is not logical and it doesn’t make sense.

Most of the time I choose to ignore it or walk through it.

I was in fear about the laptop.

I can’t afford to replace it!

My head hollered at me.

What am I going to do!?

Um.

Self.

You know that online savings account that you have?

Yeah, the one that is titled “MacBook Savings,” yeah, that one?

You have enough.

“It’s hard to part with it, isn’t it?” My friend soothed me on the phone.

It is!

I don’t know why.

I just paid rent.

I just bought nice groceries for the week.

I have a job.

I have clothes on my back and a way to get to work and back.

My phone bill is paid.

My student loan is paid.

And.

I have money in a savings account for a new laptop because I knew this one was going to bite the bullet soon (nothing like having the guys at the Genius Bar at the Apple store chuckle and call your laptop an antique to give one the idea that it is time to upgrade) and shell out the dough.

So.

I put on my big girl pants and I transferred the savings account money into my checking account.

I still have some money in my savings account too.

Which I will have to re-title.

Since I did it!

I pulled the trigger and I bought a new MacBook Air.

The 13″.

I asked my employers today about theirs and marvelled at how light they were, the dad has a MacBook Air and the mom has a MacBook.

Both the same size, but the Air was much lighter and the dad sold me with the battery has a longer life than the MacBook.

Done.

I also chatted with an Apple service center person and made sure I got the educational discount.

Which, you know, since I’m going to graduate school, pinch me, I actually qualify for.

With the savings I got from the discount I turned around and really acted like a grown up and bought the three-year AppleCare warranty.

My total cost with tax $1234.05.

I transferred $1200.00 from my savings account to my checking account yesterday.

I will receive my new MacBook Air in the mail, free delivery, thank you Apple, on April 2nd.

I don’t know if this dear old dinosaur of a computer will make it through tomorrow and the next day, fingers crossed, but if it doesn’t, I’ll be back properly by April 2nd.

All grown up and shit.

Grown ups swear.

Shut up.

Are You Going Out Tonight?

Uh.

No.

I just got in and I am staying in.

Note to Okstupid profile inquiry number six in exchange–yes I am interested in dating.

No.

Not tonight.

No.

I don’t want to meet you and go see a movie on our first date.

Guys.

First dates equal coffee shops, maybe a cup of tea, a chill space, probably afternoon.

If it goes well it can segue into dinner, a stroll, a hang out.

But a movie, at night, for the first time meeting, no.

How the hell do you get to know someone you’ve never met in a dark movie theater?

Unless it’s that kind of dark movie theater.

I am, however, not interested in meeting in that kind of theater either, repeat, coffee shop.

Nice.

Easy.

Simple.

“You have to do the communicating.”

“You have an amends to make.”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo.

Ugh.

I had an amends to make, and wouldn’t you know, it wasn’t to the person I thought it was to, it was to me.

“How old are you, 42?”

Um.

No, not quite yet, but yes, next month, this lady will be a snappy 42 years old.

“Grow up.” She said it succinctly, to the point, with no meanness or judgement, just, hey, come on, grow up, this is how adults act, this is what women do, learn how to communicate, you are a woman, you can do this.

Just.

Keep it light, easy, uncomplicated and kind.

KIND.

So a script was written out, thank you God for women in my life who are willing to hold my hand while I fumble around writing something in the margins of my grocery list.

Which is when I made the call, on my way to Other Avenues to pick up a few essentials for the weekend.  I also, wow, I might really be growing up here, made the call after I had lunch.

No hungry, angry phone call here.

I almost made the call prior to that, eating of the lunch, and then it hit me, nope.  I have to take care of myself and there is no rush, I am going to take care of the communicating that needs to be done so that I can call up my person and report back that the amends was made.

Still getting to change my behavior, probably I will have to continue in this vein for some time, but at least I don’t balk at it the way I used to, I take direction, I do the action, I get the relief.

And the relief, well it was huge.

It wasn’t me.

I mean, that sounds vague, but I don’t feel like reporting blow-by-blow the gist of the conversation, rather personal and private, suffice to say the gentleman was being mindful of my welfare and it was a sweet, insightful conversation.

I showed up for it, fed, and present, walking to the grocery store with the warm sun on my face and the sea off in the distance shimmering and sparkly in the light.

Clarity.

I got clarity.

Which is fantastic, since, well, I’m not a mind reader, although I have had myself convinced on more than one occasion that I am indeed just that–capable of deciphering how another feels and then manipulating my response to get the desired response from said person.

That my friends is what’s called crazy making.

And man, I can make some crazy.

I used to bake dozens of sugar cookies during the Christmas season, spread them over the table and spend hours frosting them, it took hours and hours and sometimes days of prep as I spread the buying of ingredients out over the course of a week or two so that I could afford all the necessary components.

I can spend just as much time with my kookoo ideas.

Fortunate for me, I don’t run the circus anymore.

As my friend Bruno used to say in Paris, ‘the monkey is off my back, but the circus is still in town.’

I can so relate to that.

In a previous incarnation of my life, I might have jumped at the idea of going out on a movie date last-minute with a guy I’d just met online, especially if he was say 31 and way cute.

However, I know where that goes and I am so not interested.

Even if I was interested, I’m not.

Clarity here too, is great.

I don’t mind going out late, I have, I will again, it’s just the idea of not encouraging the fantasy, and I do mean fantasy, that there is a scarcity issue in my life.

There are more than enough men out there to date without worrying that random guy OkStupid is the last of the line, so I better get gussied up and hustle out to the late show down the street.

Uh.

No.

How do I want to show up?

In abundance and knowing that I am damn worth the effort.

There really are more fish in the sea.

There’s some for you and some for me.

There is no scarcity and when I tell myself that I am just unshelving an old idea that can be retired right now.

Today was also a big day for challenging myself to grow in other ways, some a bit quieter than the dating noise in my head, but none the less quite present for me.

Graduate school.

I worked some more on my application.  I wrote the admissions department an e-mail with a question about the application materials needed for the program I am interested in.  I sent the link for the letter of recommendation to the mom who I used to work with who is in academics here in San Francisco and agreed to write me a letter.  I also called two different numbers at the school to make sure if the e-mail went unanswered I would still get an answer to my question.

I also requested information about how to get my transcripts sent from the University of Wisconsin, Madison, to the California Institute for Integral Studies.

And then.

I had dinner with the family.

It was so nice to catch up and see their daughter, who immediately demanded lip gloss from me.

I laughed, although not nearly as hard as when she climbed into my tennis shoes.

To be so warmly welcomed, fed, and thanked for the time I spent with their daughter and to not only receive the word from the mom that I would get that letter, they also gifted me a thank you for the time I was with their daughter.

I left in tears.

To have the ability to maintain and sustain relationships with people in my life is such an enormous gift.  They said come back and visit again, and soon, and come for Christmas Eve (my current family has invited me to Thanksgiving twice now, but I think I will be spending it in the Castro with Honey and crew), which if I don’t head to Wisconsin, I probably will stop through.

This intimacy I have developed with friends, employers, the children I work with and for, with the woman who I sit with over tea, all lead me to the burgeoning of romance, which will happen, I just have to keep practicing and letting go of the results.

Powerlessness is powerful.

Surrender does mean going over to the winning side, now doesn’t it?

Today I am winning.