Ready, Set

Interview!

My PhD interview is tomorrow morning!

Holy crap.

I’ve got to get all the profanity, crassness, and foul language out of my system before going in.

Although, to give myself some credit, I am an articulate person.

I have a way with words.

Plus.

I interview well.

Which was not a talent I would have recognized in myself previous to this experience, but when I reflect on how I have done historically in interviews, I usually get the job, or the school to accept me.

Sometimes even when I don’t think I have done so well.

Hell.

Most times.

Most times before not too long ago, I would think that I hadn’t gotten in.

I didn’t think I was going to get back into my Bachelor’s program at UW Madison, I mean I seriously fucked up my first round of schooling there.

But I did, I interviewed with the dean of admissions after sending in an application letter to be readmitted and I was shocked I mean, shocked, when they let me back in.

There wasn’t even any waiting period, the woman basically told me at the end of the interview that I was accepted back.

That I could start that Spring!

It was the fall term and I think I had interviewed at the end of November, beginning of December.

I had not planned on that.

I hadn’t planned on getting in, I was “humoring” my best friend and a good friend of hers, a boss that I worked for, by applying to school again.

“You are just too smart to not be in college,” my boss said, echoing my best friend’s sentiments.

“If you don’t apply, I’m going to fire you,” my boss continued.

“What?!” I said, incredulous.

“I’m serious, Carmen, you really are just too smart, and I wouldn’t feel right if I wasn’t encouraging you to go back to school, go back, we still want you to work here, but you really should go back.” He concluded.

Of course I applied.

I didn’t want to lose my job.

And maybe there was a part of me that wanted to go back, to get my shit together, to do it right this time.

But I hadn’t expected to get right in, nor that I would be able to start in the Spring semester.

I had only a few weeks to adjust to the idea that I was going to be back in school full-time.

My boyfriend at the time was not at all pleased.

He was, in hindsight, though I couldn’t see it at the time, very jealous of my time.

He was also displeased, I suspected, because he had dropped out of UW Madison a couple of years prior and hadn’t managed to get his shit together to go back.

He did eventually.

After doing time for a felony conviction for stalking me.

But that’s another story, for another time.

Suffice to say.

The encouragement of my friends got me in and the encouragement of my friends here in San Francisco got me into my Master’s program.

I think they’re all still behind me for going for the PhD.

Last time I checked in with anyone it felt that way.

Although a few acquaintances did register surprise.

“Two more years of school!”

“We’re never going to see you at fellowship again!”

True.

And not so true.

Yes.

I will still be busy.

But I think I have learned well over these last few years to balance out my studies with my job, my recovery, and my social life.

Sometimes better than others.

And sometimes I really had to work hard at it.

Hell.

It’s been all hard work.

“Sometimes I wish I was done with the hard work!” I expressed to my therapist today.

We had a really huge session.

In fact, I left over time with her saying that she would like to support me in whatever I needed regarding our session.

I thanked her for that.

That’s the second time in a month my therapist has let me know that I can reach out for support after hours, or without having a session scheduled.

Though I don’t think I will do that.

I was quite touched.

I am, however, going to do some work.

The work it doesn’t really end.

It just changes.

And I change.

That’s the hope, anyway, that I will change.

Grow or die.

Ha.

Well.

Perhaps not that stark, not that black and white.

But I was pretty miserable today and sad and angry and upset.

I talked with my therapist about my health stuff, going really into detail, letting her know how I was affected by the system I seem to be unable to get out of.

And.

By my history.

What health advocacy looked like in my home.

In my family of origin.

Which was shit.

I only went to the doctor in an emergency.

There was no healthcare aside from the mandatory doctor’s physical before school each year.

There was only a doctor’s visit when something horrible was happening.

And it had to be really bad to get the attention of my mom.

Really bad.

I remember an incident that happen when I was seventeen.

Mono, strep, and tonsilitis all at the same time.

I was delirious.

I remember calling my mom and begging her to come home from work.

She told me she couldn’t.

I walked around the house crying and delusional with a fever that was so high the emergency room doctor chastised my mother for not bringing me in sooner.

He was irate.

It was one of the few times I remember my mom getting me a special treat from the market, croissants (day olds, but fuck, I had never had such an amazing piece of bread) and crab salad (fake crab, but crab!) and ice cream.

I certainly felt special and the words of the doctor faded out of my perceptions in a haze of fevered ice cream eating and sleep.

But the impact lasted.

I wasn’t allowed to ask for help, I wasn’t allowed to get sick, I wasn’t helped out when I was, I had to take care of myself and figure it out and doctors, dentists, hospitals, the medical system, all seemed scary and also not allowed for me.

I have done a tremendous amount of work to get through it and to be where I am, but it raised its head and there I was in therapy with a pile of tissues around me and angry tears on my face.

And.

Oh, the gratitude.

Some client advocacy from my therapist who made some suggestions and gave me some very valuable information.

Information I will be acting on pretty much immediately.

Well.

First the interview.

Then new insurance!

It’s how I celebrate now.

Not popping a bottle of champagne.

But rather.

Gifting myself.

Better.

Health care.

Officially.

#adulting

It’s A Matter Of Safety

He said to me on the phone.

Sigh.

I know he’s right.

He also said, “I feel it in my bones, it’s going to be a heavy rain season again.”

Ugh.

Yeah.

It feels like that to me too.

And so.

The ruminating has been happening around getting myself a car.

I have some hesitation.

Money.

But.

I also have.

For the first time in 13 years, a credit card.

And.

I have a desire to not be wet.

I don’t want to be wet at work from riding my bicycle in the rain.

I did that for ten years commuting around the city, every rainy season, months of being wet and cold.

Then not quite two years ago, in November, I bought a scooter.

It’s been revelatory.

It has gotten me all over the city faster and quicker and easier than hill climbing on my one speed.

It has saved me a lot of time.

It also has given me small heart attacks as I have to be super aggressive in my riding and also super defensive.

It’s like I have to be a mind reader on the road.

I’m not as visible, people don’t look, cars merge without checking, I’m on a scooter and I’m not as noticeable as a car.

I know when I’m in someone’s blind spot and that makes me feel freaked out, I do my best to stay far away from that.

Don’t get me started on Uber and Lyft drivers, especially the ones that don’t live in the city.

And.

The rain.

Last year I took a lot of cars during the rainy season.

That could still be an option for me.

Although I hate waiting for them and I don’t like the car share, although I opt for it most often when I do take a car.

I do like staying dry though.

And I was nervous about riding to Glen Park on my scooter when it rained.

I take Lincoln Avenue from 46th to 7th, up 7th Avenue until it becomes Laguna Honda, then I cut over towards Diamond Heights and take a bunch of little roads up and over.

The hills can be steep and slippery and I have had moments when the fog has been super dense where the roads are slick and I’ve slipped.

I haven’t gone down.

But I have felt that horrible slide of my back wheel on wet paint.

That’s what freaks me out the most and when there was that big rain and thunderstorm I was not a happy camper coming home on my scooter.

I know I would be safer in a car.

And.

Well, dryer.

It’s a big change for me, and even though it could be a great change, I get nervous, will I have enough?

And I think I do.

I mean.

Yes, the money I have in savings is ear marked for travel and yes, the reason, a big part of why I have money in savings is from my student loans.

So.

On one hand I fucking owe that money back to Sally Mae anyhow.

What would it look like if I got a car?

Cons.

Taxes, license, insurance.

Cons.

Parking.

Although, I could swing it.

And here’s why–I live in the Outer Sunset, it’s still a challenge to park out here but it’s not the Mission.

Also.

I work in Glen Park and the street that my family lives on who I nanny for is not a horribly busy street.  It doesn’t have parking restrictions, no hourly restraints, just a no parking the 2nd Friday of the month for Street cleaning.  And the street cleaning hours are typically over by the time I get to work.

There’s plenty of street parking at work.

And.

By the time I get to my internship, most days, business hours are over and there’s parking on the block that my internship is on.

So.

In actuality, the parking, though an issue, is not as bad as it would be elsewhere in the city.

Cons.

It might take longer to get to work.

I lane split on my scooter.

Hell.

I speed on my scooter.

Not a lot, but enough, usually it’s to get me out in front of traffic so that I’m moving in the clear.

One can’t lane split in a car, even if it’s a tiny car.

I’m thinking Fiat at the moment.

Which is a smaller car, but not as small as a scooter.

So.

If I took the car to work or to my internship I would probably have to pad extra time into my commute.

Not impossible, just a small draw back.

Con.

The cost of gas will be higher, insurance will go up, maintenance on the car will be more than for my scooter.

Ok.

Now.

The Pros.

I wouldn’t be wet at work, or cold.

I wouldn’t worry about the slippery roads.

Visibility would be much, much, much better.

Riding in a helmet that fogs up or gets rain splatter on it makes visibility super hard, there are no windshield wipers on my helmet.

It would be a huge pro to not have to ride in the rain or the cold for that matter, the wind chill on my scooter when the temperatures go down in the winter is no joke, I get fucking cold.

Pro.

I could go over the bridges, I can’t go over any of the bridges on my scooter.

I could go to Sausalito, Stinson Beach, Muir Woods, Mt. Tam, the East Bay.

I could take road trips.

Man.

I love a good road trip.

I mean.

Bring that shit on.

Pro.

More independence, be able to carry more groceries home from the store, and music.

Music is definitely a pro, I can’t listen to music on my scooter.

Oh.

I suppose I could.

If I wanted to die.

Pro.

I could carry home my own Christmas tree instead of taking a taxi or shouldering it back to my house.

Pro.

I would feel safer getting into a car at night.

The neighborhood my internship is in is a bit sketchy, 18th and Treat, it’s pretty active during the day, lots of businesses and action going on, but at night, it gets a bit torrid.

I’ve had two times when I felt a bit exposed getting on my scooter, once where I was approached.

A car would feel more secure.

Pro.

Adulting.

It’s an adult thing, having a car, I sort of like the idea of it, I like the idea of driving, it’s been a long time.

Fifteen years, in fact, since I owned a car, maybe it’s time for a change.

And yes.

Change, even good change, is scary, so I might have to juggle all this stuff in my brain for a bit, but I know this much, I didn’t like hearing how my person wrapped up the “I might want to lease a car conversation” I had with him this afternoon.

“Well, doll, it’s only a matter of time,” he said and paused, meaning, I’m going to be hit on my scooter.  “I rather like the idea of you being in a car, you’re doing more and more and you’re on your scooter so much, really, it is only a matter of time.”

Um.

NO.

Knock on some motherfucking wood.

Felt like a black cat walked over my grave when he said that.

I shivered.

Ok.

Ok.

It’s time.

Not to get hit, thank you very much.

But.

Yeah.

I think.

It might just be time.

To yes.

Get a car.

The pros outweigh the cons.

I can’t even believe I’m writing this.

But yeah.

I think I want a car.

Who knew!?

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.

Things Change

Unexpected.

But for the better.

I won’t be going to Wisconsin for Christmas.

I will be staying here in San Francisco.

Although my person was very pro me going to Hawaii.

Who the hell isn’t interested in going to Hawaii.

As it turns out circumstances were just not a good fit for me to travel where I was going and after much heart-felt thinking I realized I needed to cancel.

I booked the ticket through an online site, Kayak, that lead to Priceline, that led to SunCountry and I was afraid I was going to have to bite the cost of the ticket.

$480 down the toilet.

According to Priceline’s little disclaimer about tickets being non-refundable, etc.

However.

Upon the urging of my person I called the airline and explained my situation and the person I talked to was super sweet and accommodating and they cancelled my ticket and gave me a voucher that I can use anytime in the next year.

I can choose to go to Wisconsin if the opportunity is right or I can travel to any of the other destinations the airline flies.

I looked at a few places, I mean, I have a week off, but it’s Christmas and the majority of the places that I was interested in going to were booked full.

So.

I have a year to re-book and that’s cool.

I am super happy that I didn’t lose the money and I am happy that I have a year, well, not quite, I booked the ticket in October, so I need to re-book by next October, but I can still use it.

I don’t know where I’ll go and I don’t have to decide right now.

I do know I will be here in the city and who knows what mischief I may get up to.

I figure I will do lots of yoga, buy a book for pleasure reading and go to the MOMA a few times.

Pleasure reading.

Drool.

Because, that shit is happening.

I mean for real.

Because I finished my Psychopathology paper!

My God.

That was a grind.

17 pages.

I thought it was supposed to be 18-20 pages but then I went back into the syllabus and saw that I had made an error, thank God I found that, and the paper “only” needed to be 15-17 pages.

So 17 pages were written.

4,912 words.

I had a friend who was like, what are you going to do to celebrate?

I responded.

Write my blog.

hahahahahahaha.

But really.

This is a celebration right here, right now.

I finished.

I made it.

I am officially half-way through the three-year program and that feels really good.

Despite my sadness at having to change my plans, I know it’s for the best, and plans change, things change, I get to be flexible and I am damn curious to see what is going to happen next.

I do believe that something awesome and fun is going to happen.

And despite a longing to be with my friend and her family I need to do what is best for the situation and that has been done.

It feels rather adult.

I guess one could say I’m growing up.

Which is good since in two hours I’ll be 44.

Heh.

“44!  No!  34!” My yoga teacher was so cute today, we’ve become friends and I invited him and his daughter and his partner to my pinball party in the Haight.

You too.

Come if you’re around.

4p.m.-7p.m. Free Gold Watch in the Haight–Waller at Stanyan.

Bring your quarters!

I’m going to be a Zazie’s for brunch and figure I’ll be signing up there around 12:30p.m. and I just got a text from my person who happens to know the manager, that she gave them the heads up that I was coming in (they don’t take reservations) and she also left me a birthday present!

I’m so lucky.

I’m so grateful.

I get to go to graduate school.

I get to go to play pinball tomorrow with my friends.

I got a voucher for my plane ticket and time to figure out where and when I am going to use it.

So many gifts.

So many.

I’m going to do yoga in the morning too.

It may be my birthday, but I can’t think of a better way to start my year than by taking care of my health and well-being.

God damn.

I really am lucky.

When I think of all the challenges and the things I have gone through to get where I am at, sitting here in this lovely home with my Christmas tree lit up and my school work done for the semester, I am absolutely amazed.

The gift of perspective might be the greatest thing I have in my life.

It is stunning to see how I have changed.

I mean.

Others have seen it and noted it, but I felt it, deep and true these last few days and I am moved by how much I have seemingly grown in such a short time.

Granted I think the seeds had been planted and watered and there was much sunlight of the spirit happening.

But I wasn’t expecting it.

I hadn’t looked for it.

I let go of a defect and found joy in its place and a lightning in my heart.

Love for myself, of myself, directed inward, and there.

A bloom.

A blossom.

A wild, fragrant flowering of brightness inside.

I feel lit up and a glow.

Warm and safe and taken care of.

I have no problems.

I really don’t.

Oh.

Yes.

Challenges, there will always be challenges, and room to grow, I don’t doubt that, there’s always room to grow, but problems, no I don’t have them.

Not now.

Not right here in this glorious moment of freedom.

School’s out for winter!

Ok.

That doesn’t sound as good as school’s out for summer.

But believe you me, after the semester I had.

It is hella sexy.

Hella.

Have A Great

School free weekend!

My boss said to me as I headed out.

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Fucking ha.

I have a lot to do this weekend, a lot of writing, as much writing as I can get to.

Tomorrow, granted, I may not do the writing, I sort of have some time ear marked toward it, but I have a lot of errands I have to run, yoga to do, meeting my person who is celebrating a big anniversary, 29 years, with a cake at Tart to Tart and I have to be there.

I mean.

29 fucking years.

Amaze balls.

My hero, my confidant, my help, my perspective, all the damn time.

I’m so grateful for her in my life, it’s a big deal.

So yeah.

I will be there.

And then the errands that need to be addressed so that I don’t have to address them during the work week or next weekend.

Because I will be back in school next weekend.

And we all know, or I should say, I know, that the weekend before the weekend of school is always fraught with the busy.

I can’t do anything but school when I’m in the weekend, so all the laundry, groceries, and food prep for this week and the following week, I have to attend to.

Or let me rephrase that.

I get to attend to.

The self-care that I do prior to my school weekend leaves me feeling taken care of, supported, nurtured, and loved.

Loved by myself, so that all I have to do is show up for class and participate.

The great news is, that all my reading is done, so it really is just writing the papers this weekend, to the best of my ability, as much as I can.

I will write my Family Therapy paper on Sunday.

I may get it started tomorrow, but I don’t see that I will actually get to the writing.

I have a few too many errands to run.

I did get one out-of-the-way today, got the wedding gift for a friend’s wedding that happens to fall smack dab in the middle of my school weekend next weekend, but hey, I got to go.

And I wanted to make sure I got the gift today when I had a soupcon of extra time.

I got up early.

No.

I did not do yoga, but I looked fondly at the yoga studio when I zoomed past it on my scooter this morning.

I will, however, be in yoga tomorrow morning, I already signed up on-line, so I’m committed to going, which is always a good way for me to roll and the class is taught by my favorite teacher who I haven’t seen in a few weeks, so I’ll be getting up.

The alarm is set.

No, this morning I zipped over to the Fillmore.

Yes.

That’s right.

Hair fucking Fairies.

My third.

And.

Yes.

FINAL.

Visit.

I was cleared today.

No lice.

No eggs.

No babies.

Nada.

They still gave me a treatment, but it was quick and the comb out took about 45 minutes instead of the hours and hours I have had to sit before.

It felt so good to walk out of there with a clean head of hair.

So.

Fucking.

Nice.

“If you want we can book you one more time, just as a safe guard, it’s a free dry check,” the receptionist said as I “signed” my bosses credit card slipped.

“No thanks, I’m all set,” I smiled, and headed out the door.

I don’t need to see that neighborhood again for some time, thank you very much.

I hopped on the scooter and had an hour before work.

So I actually went shopping in the Mission.

Which I don’t do very often.

I work in the Mission and cafes and parks are my office, not so much the retail.

There are stores opening that I haven’t even seen since I never go in them with the boys, too many small hands grabbing for the bright and shiny things.

“Touch with your eyes, not with your hands,” I have suggested to the boys on numerous occasions.

Some times it works, more so than you might think, but I can usually tell they’re not going to make it very long in any kind of retail store, they are just too curious.

So.

Today.

An hour.

On Valencia Street.

Before work.

I covered a couple of blocks and even stopped in at Ritual for a very hot latte.

The temperature has dropped and it feels like winter is here.

I took a moment after getting my coffee and sat in the parklet in front of the cafe and admired my French braids in the reflection and basked in my clean hair and shiny braids.

Then, off to shop.

And yes, I found what I needed and made it to work right on time.

One more small thing off the list.

Tomorrow I hope to do a little shopping for the wedding, personal shopping, I am thinking of wearing a certain dress and though I do have shoes that will work with it, I feel like that might be a little too much for a wedding, so I want to see if I can just find a simple Mary Jane heel instead of the Mary Jane platforms I have.

They are hella cute, and sexy, but might be just a bit too much for a wedding.

Plus.

Since I will be busy with school next weekend and then it’s my birthday and then it’s my last week at work and then I’m flying to Wisconsin, I realized I need to do a tiny bit of clothes shopping to be prepared for the cold weather there.

Not a lot.

But a few things, some thermals, and maybe another coat if I feel it’s appropriate and it’s something I will use here in SF, and also a hat, I don’t have a hat that will cover my ears, I do have plenty of scarves, thank goodness, and a sweater or two.

Not a bunch of things, but depending on where I go it may take up some time during the day and I have a commitment at 7p.m.

I could feasibly be out all day from yoga onward.

Busy.

But.

Busy in a good way, in a way that will support me through my last weekend of school and moving forward through the month.

Super excited for all the fun December has in store.

Even if it means having to write a few great big papers before I get to have all the fun.

The fun.

It will happen.

Believe it.

I do.

I Did Not Write My Paper

I stressed out about writing it though.

That was fun.

I burst into tears in the parking lot of a church this evening when I was invited to go get noodles in Japan Town.

It was too much.

“Honey, I was just inviting you to fellowship,” he said and gave me a big hug.

I was not going to leave the house this evening.

I was going to get the fucking paper done.

Although.

Let me be honest.

I didn’t actually think I was going to write it today.

I spent a lot of time wondering exactly when I was going to write it and started to be honest about my schedule and what I could do when and I did some negotiating with myself and decided that I needed to do certain things before I wrote the paper.

OH.

And FYI.

I did do a lot of work on the paper.

Just because it’s not in paper form doesn’t mean I didn’t do work.

In fact.

I have done more work on this paper than I do on most.

I have read all the material.

And re-read some of it.

I have outlined and noted, and post-it noted things.

I have organized my material.

And I have a title.

The paper is writing itself and has been writing itself all weekend.

I haven’t spent this much time thinking about a paper in a while.

But.

That being said.

Yes.

It’s not written.

I did a lot of self-care today that needed to be done.

The weekend before the weekend of school for me is often the busiest of the month.

I went to yoga.

YOGA!

I’m back baby.

It felt a little like coming out of a cave yesterday.

It just opened up, the window and I realized that I needed to be there this morning, I really did, I set my alarm early and got up and made my bed, said my daily prayers, and got into my yoga clothes.

Hello old friends.

I went over to the studio early.

I was the first one there.

I talked the woman at the desk and got signed up again and did the monthly plan, where I pay a set amount, they pull it from my bank account, and I go to class whenever I want.

And.

She remembered me and though they, the studio, had raised its rates, she grandfathered me in at my previous amount and included my student discount.

Thank you, my grad school pocket-book thanks you Yoga Beach.

And yes.

I’ll be up early tomorrow to go in and do it again.

Because.

It felt good.

I mean, I’ve lost some flexibility in the weeks I have missed and I am a little sore, although not as bad as I thought I would be, but it felt so good to be there.

To be in my body.

To not be in my head.

Just to stretch and move and get a good sweat on.

And.

OH.

I cried.

I got a nice big fat, unexpected, emotional release at the end of the class.

It felt cleansing and good and letting go and walked out of the studio thanking God and into the light of a brand new day.

It was fucking fabulous.

Why didn’t I want to do this?

Probably because it’s so damn good for me.

Story of my life.

If it’s good for me I don’t want to do it.

Eventually I come around to it.

After yoga.

A good hot shower, a good hot breakfast, hot coffee, and some writing.

Then a scooter ride up to the Inner Sunset to do the deal with my person at Tart to Tart.

After we reconnected I went next door to the nail salon and got a mani/pedi and my eyebrows waxed.

Paper or no paper I like to be groomed and this is the week in the month that I could squeeze it in and so I did.

Read some trashy magazines, chilled out, tried to not think about my paper, thought about it anyway, and then took myself out to a nice lunch.

Because I decided the thing to do at that point, it was after 3 p.m. was to go grocery shopping and I know better than to do that on an empty stomach.

I shopped extra for the week.

Anything that I might need or want for the week and next weekend of school I made sure to get and be stocked up on, extra tea, coffee, all my staples, and stuff to cook, plus all my household stuff that I didn’t want to have to think about.

I ran into a few people at the Safe Way out by Ocean Beach and caught the eye of a cute guy in the store, but didn’t think about it twice.

Then as I was loading up my basket on my scooter and juggling my bags and keys and purse, he walked by and looked at me, “you are very pretty,” he said and smiled.

I am surprised I didn’t drop my keys, “thanks,” I replied.

“Have a good one,” he said and walked off.

Wait.

What?

I was a little flustered, very complimented, it rather made my day it was so unexpected, but then I was like, isn’t this where one asks the other out to coffee?

He just walked away.

Oh well.

I was flattered though and it put a nice little pop of joy in my afternoon.

I zoomed home, unloaded my groceries and then headed up to co-op on the corner that I am a member of to get the rest of my basics for the week.

I came home, balanced my check book, put all my groceries away, started a pot of brown rice and threw a chicken in the oven to roast.

There is just something about having a homey smell in my house when I’m doing school work really makes me feel grounded and it’s nice to have good self-care around my own diet and needs.

While the chicken roasted I did more prep work on my paper.

I organized it, I re-read some more stuff, I got a general idea of where I was going with it, I made a plan.

Then.

I got a text asking what I was doing tonight.

I replied.

And before you know it I am off.

I went to do the deal, it’s my commitment on Saturday’s and my friend was unexpectedly in town and wanted to meet me there.

I haven’t seen her in months.

Of course I’m going.

And.

I’m going out afterwards to fellowship, because sometimes the best way to write a paper is to give yourself some fucking down time with your best girl friend in the city.

Well, she doesn’t live in the city anymore, so I really had to do it and I am so grateful I did.

And yes.

I will crank out the paper tomorrow.

It will get done.

They always do.

I have time.

I will make time.

It will happen.

And truly, the big heavy lifting, the research and reading and organizing, that’s all done.

Yoga in the morning, doing the deal with a couple of ladies, a tea date in the afternoon, then home again, home again, jiggedy jig.

The paper will get written and all will be fine.

Because.

It already is.

Despite the fear factory in my brain.

The paper will be written.

And life will go on.

Just like it always does.

 

Auldting

All over the motherfucking place.

That’s right.

Got up this morning, did the deal, got right with God, drank some coffee and hit my scooter up to head over to the downtown offices of Healthy San Francisco.

That service that helps a lass or a lad out when they don’t quite have enough to afford that health care thing called insurance.

I’m right on the cusp this year.

In fact, I had a bit of trepidation that I was not going to qualify anymore and have to pony up some real big bucks and get with the health insurance in a for real kind of way.

I have had it before, great insurance when I worked for the veterinary hospital, which really came in handy when I got a PTSD diagnosis from an incicdent that occured to me while I was working there as well as getting some help for my clinical anxiety and clinical depression.

And.

That one time I got hit.

By a bicyclist while I was on foot crossing Market at the Octavia, Valencia corner.

I got smacked hard stepping off the curb.

I don’t remember any of it.

Complete amnesia.

Except for the part where the paramedic screamed at me, “stay with us!”

And I passed right back out.

Turns out there’s actually a health insurance code for getting hit and run by a bike.

I shit you not.

So I was told by the doctor at Kaiser when I went into the immediate care after having been released from General Hospital.

Nothing is more unnerving than waking up at General strapped to a gurney, in a hallway while wearing a neck brace.

I was crying help weakly when I finally got some passing person’s regard and they found an orderly who wheeled me into a deserted room and shut the door so I could use the bed pan they slid underneath my hips.

Which was in and of itself perhaps the worst experience I have had sober.

Uncontrollable peeing from having held my bladder god only knows how long.

I filled the bed pan and couldn’t stop and it splashed out onto the floor.

Now, I’m in a neck brace, can’t move, full bed pan under my ass, pee dripping on the floor, crying.

Good fucking times.

But.

Thank fucking god I had insurance at the time.

Had I not.

The bill for my short stay would have been $10,000.

Give or take a few hundred dollars.

When I saw the bill I just about threw up in my mouth, but then I read it and realized that the only thing I had to pay was a $100 co-pay for the ambulance ride.

Stay with me indeed.

I had to talk myself off a short ledge to make the Healthy SF appointment, so convinced was my brain that I was going to get turned down, why bother going?

But.

I ride a scooter.

And I just know better.

I mean.

I really do.

I told on myself, which always helps, and I made the appointment and when I was scooting over to that part of town, I was gratified I did.

I just knew that I would feel better no matter what.

And as it turns out I don’t really qualify for Healthy SF any longer, I do make just a little too much money.

But.

I do qualify for Covered California!

Which is real health insurance, fuck that would be nice, in case I need to change my prescription glasses any time soon or just go in for a check up.

Or.

Even better.

When I file my taxes and don’t get the penalty fine for not having health insurance.

And.

The woman who helped me at Healthy SF was super kind, she booked me a consultation appointment so that I could come in one day before work and compare the different plans and get help filling out the application.

This is what I need.

Thank God.

I don’t know how to do stuff like this, I need help all the time.

Grateful beyond words that I have the humility, teeny, tiny, little bit, to ask for help and accept it in whatever form is given to me.

I was also told that there are only certain times that you can apply to Covered California and that the next time to apply would be November and it wouldn’t go into effect until January 1st.

Ok then.

I resigned myself to being without health insurance for a couple of months.

My Healthy San Francisco expires in two weeks.

“Oh wait!” The woman said looking at my card and realizing that it was about to expire, “your coverage is up in two weeks!”

I nodded, I know.

Ugh.

“Well, we can’t let you not be covered, no way, here’s what we’re going to do,” she got busy click clacking on the keyboard.

Waived some magic wand.

And.

Voila!

I’ve been approved for another year of Healthy SF.

What?

No way.

“You need to be covered, I’m not going to let you go out there and not have anything, you come back in November and we’ll go over the Covered California and get you a plan and when January rolls around you can call me and I’ll cancel your Healthy SF,” she concluded.

Then popped up, grabbed a sheaf of papers of the printer, had me sign a few highlighted spots and said, “we’ll keep you with Kaiser and you are ready to go, just make sure you send in a check as soon as you get the bill in the mail.”

Yes ma’am!

I left feeling really good for showing up.

It is the majority of the battle.

I have been doing a lot of showing up recently and I’m pretty happy about that.

I showed up to work.

I told the family I accepted a job offer and need to give them notice.

I told them that I could work into December, the very end if needed, but if they didn’t need that, to let me know what would work the best for them.

I said thank you.

I said I am grateful.

I showed up.

And I kept showing up.

It’s a gift to be able to do so.

Adulting.

Who knew it could be so fulfilling?

Seriously.

I GOT THE JOB!

And like that.

It’s done.

Well.

It’s not 100% done, nothing is quite so tidy and wrapped up and dropped off at the door with absolutely no strings attached.

But.

I got the job!

I had the second interview tonight, after working a full day with the family up in Noe Valley, and I was basically offered the job.

Health insurance stipend.

PTO–paid time off.

Full time hours, except the Fridays I’m in my grad school program.

The family is fine with my Paris dates.

They will be drawing up a contract and confidentiality statement to cover all bases and yup, I’ll be over the table again.

As nice as it is to get cash here and there under the table, I’m a lot more comfortable having the taxes taken out and dealt with.

They will probably use the same system that my current employers do, I don’t have to be involved other than to give them my bank account info.

They did ask that the first two weeks are an open audition.

Which is no big shakes, my current family said the same thing then six months later were like, oh yeah, you work for us.

Heh.

Actually I don’t remember if we had a conversation at the end of the two week trial period, it was on.

They also want me to possibly squeeze in a day or two before I start.

I was like, that might be hard, but maybe.

I did feel a little overwhelmed at that point.

It’s a lot.

Work, working two different families, navigating a new job with a third family, all the interviewing and referrals and all of it.

I was tuckered out and zonked and I think the mom sensed it as she back pedaled a little bit to say of course, whatever you can do and you’d be compensated, etc.

I just had a looming picture of the next few months navigating all the places, and families and um, hello, full-time grad school.

It made my head spin.

And.

Right then and there, I knew I just had to do the next action in front of me, get my coat, confirm that I had the job, and let my new boss now I’m excited to get to work with them.

Three kids.

Six year old boy.

Four year old girl.

And.

Baby on the way.

I’m actually feeling really grateful for my little brood up in Noe Valley right now, as they are a group of three as well, I’m getting practice.

I am also really over the moon that a lot of my work with the family will be open to adventures, dropping off and picking up the kids from school, going to museums, The Academy of Sciences, parks.

I haven’t had that kind of autonomy with my current family.

There will be parents around, but not as much.

Dad works in Cupertino and mom has her own small business and has an office in the Mission.

Some days they may both be home, especially in the early months of the new baby.

But most days, I’ll be more free to come and go.

I’m so excited for that.

I have missed solo adventures with my charges.

It’s been a crazy full week and it’s just Wednesday.

I almost felt like canceling my pre-work appointments for the next two days, but I’m going to pony up and go.

I have an appointment to re-up my Healthy San Francisco coverage tomorrow before work.

I may get turned down and I have been tempted to not go because I think that I’m going to get turned down, but I need to show up and see what my options are.

And being an adult, I called today and made an appointment, expecting that I wouldn’t be able to get in until next week, but hey, no, they had an 11:30 a.m. available tomorrow.

Ok then.

Seems I need to deal with this.

And if I don’t get it, there will be other options, I’m sure.

Then Friday I have my appointment with my advisor that I had to reschedule due to last week’s phone snafu.

And you know work both those days.

And homework and whew.

I did actually get some homework done today at work, the baby napped and I was able to sit down and re-map my genogram for my Family Therapy class.

It was actually a lot of fun and I can see how it’s a great tool for family therapy.

I will probably use it in my practice.

I did a tiny bit of reading, I mean tiny, but I opened a book and did some.

And really, I can’t beat myself up.

I wrote this morning, I showered and breakfasted and did my daily routine, I worked a full day, I did homework, I went and did a second interview for a new job.

It was a day.

I am so not beating myself up for not having done more.

I did enough.

I would have liked to have gotten to see my people tonight, I had planned on at least showing up, even if it was late, but the interview went long–which, duh is obviously a good thing.

But.

I’ll see my peeps tomorrow and I’m going to be happy for it.

Happy too, once this all sinks in that I’m off the market.

I don’t have to look for work.

Work came looking for me.

I mean, I still had to show up for the process, but it’s almost complete.

Tomorrow I will get to tell my current family and be grateful for everything they have done for me.

I mean.

The mom referred me to this new situation.

I am thankful.

Grateful as fuck.

Seriously.

And it will be nice to give them a big fat notice so that we can navigate the saying of goodbyes.

It’s never easy, but it helps to give the kids a big amount of time to get used to the idea.

I don’t think it will be good-bye forever though, the families go to the same private school, they have play dates together, the moms know each other, there will be overlapping.

It’s a good solution.

I am a lucky lady.

Tired.

But very lucky.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Got a new job.

Yes.

Yes.

She did.

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.