I Have To Stop

Falling down.

Twice.

Twice in the last two days I have fallen down.

At my new place.

I’ve been going too fast, and I’m really aware of it, but shit, I don’t need to fall down anymore.

I bruised my hand tonight and last night I split open my left knee and bruised both of them badly.

But.

I didn’t sprain an ankle, and I could have either time.

Last night I had time in between my work and my normal Wednesday night commitment to run out to Bed, Bath and Beyond.

My studio that I’ve been living in has pretty much been furnished.

Down to towels and the compost bin.

So I have realized that I needed to get things to make my new home, well, homey.

Like bath rugs and towels and a compost bin, and a shoe rack.

Although I got a rack yesterday, it just doesn’t work for my new closet.

That was how I wiped out yesterday.

I was carrying the shoe rack into my place and completely missed a step going into it.

I smashed on my knees and for just a brief moment I thought I might have banged my left ankle, the one that I so badly injured a few years back.

I mean.

The ankle has never really felt fully healed and I’ve re-sprained it once, so I was scared and breathless in a heap on the floor slowly rotating my ankle in both directions.

I was ok.

I mean.

I wasn’t ok, exactly, I discovered later that I had cut through skin on my left knee, but I was pretty adrenalized and didn’t feel it.

I discovered it when my leggings stuck to my knee from the dried blood.

Tonight I wiped out as I had another load of things from Bed, Bath, and Beyond in my car to deliver, and I slipped on the freshly waxed floor.

I knew I was going to fast, I had my car double parked with the flashers on and I just wanted to get in and out.

So as I drove away I knew, I need to slow down.

I need to breathe.

I am anxious about this final push, moving is hard, it’s stressful, I don’t have as much time to devote to it as I would like.

Although every day I have been doing something.

Today I returned the shoe rack and replaced it with one that would work and I bought curtains, a curtain rod, and a shower curtain, as well as some pillows.

I also took over a bin of stuff from the house this morning.

I figured if I was going over to get the shoe rack to return it I should not go empty-handed, so one large box traveled with me.

I have also organized everything Burning Man in the garage, my tent, my bins, my camping stuff, even though a part of me was like, trash it, you’re never going back, you have five years of PhD to deal with, you aren’t going back forever…I couldn’t quite do it, so it will go into storage.

My new landlord acknowledged that there really wasn’t much storage space built into the studio so he is allowing me to store things in the basement.

I packed a couple of boxes of notebook and journals and books and my Burning Man stuff, my picnic basket, and some blankets and got it all out to the garage.

On one hand I haven’t that much more stuff, on the other, my brain is just hollering at me, move, move, move!

I’m trying to strike a balance.

As I am also trying to get homework done for school.

I have managed to do a little reading at work, but not as much as I was hoping, then again, I have to cut myself some slack, I really am doing every possible thing I could do.

I got my online bank account set up for Grateful Heart today too, so that was an accomplishment.

I am tired though.

I went to bed at a reasonable hour, but tossed and turned a lot before falling asleep and I woke up an hour and half before my alarm went off.

I just got up.

I figured, grab the shoe rack, return stuff, get more stuff, go to work.

And I did.

Plus I had a client tonight.

I really am doing as much as I possibly can.

I cleared up most of Saturday and only now have group supervision to go to.

I can’t miss that as much as I might like to.

So I hope to get a lot of it taken care of on Saturday.

I am in contact with a friend who may be able to help out with a truck either Saturday or Sunday.

I think I am going to have to break down my bed, I have been contemplating how I was going to move it and I think that part of it will have to be unscrewed.

It’s an Ikea frame, so there are 1,001 parts to it, but I think if I can just remove the head-board, I can do it in two parts.

I’m not sure what day it’s going to happen, but I’m leaning towards doing it on Sunday.

I think I’m going to need to sleep over here on Saturday night as I have another orientation in Alameda for my new internship.

That’s from 10a.m. until 1:30p.m.

So it makes sense to keep the bed here until Sunday.

If my friend’s truck is only available on Saturday then I will just move a bunch of boxes and my bicycle.

I’ll use the Lugg app to get my bed out on Sunday.

Then I’ll be coming back next Saturday to clean the studio up and make sure nothing’s left and hand over the keys.

As stressful as this has been I am grateful for this little studio by the sea, it’s been a good home to me, and, I am also ready to move the heck on.

I can’t wait to get my new place set up.

Did I mention how many windows it has?

Seven!

A Little Up

A little down.

Seeking equilibrium.

I got some sleep.

So that was good.

But.

I had a couple very odd e-mails today, one from my internship and one from my school that put me a little off kilter.

And made me realize that I am pretty much done with my internship.

Oh.

I’m not about to quit on my clients.

But.

I am not taking on any more new clients.

And I am taking off this coming Monday for the holiday.

I have it off from work and I figured I should take the day off from clients too.

Take it easy.

Sleep in.

Do a yoga class.

My reflux seems to have died back down again and I’m hoping for a renewal of energy to get my butt back to classes this weekend.

A three-day weekend of yoga sounds like just the thing to do it.

I also have a somewhat odd week this week, and not having a schedule that I normally have may have had something to do with the just a little off-balance feeling today.

I will not be seeing clients tomorrow like I normally do, I’ll be heading over to San Rafael to do the deal and some sharing about this and that and recovery.

A long day, and an early start on Wednesday.

Ack.

But.

Also.

A short day on Wednesday, which is really lovely.

I have my GI’s follow-up appointment to discuss the things that were found on my endoscopy and hopefully they will have the rest of the labs and test results back by then.

Figure out what has been going on and address it.

Not having it for a few days has been really lovely.

I want to not have it ever again!

Whatever needs to be done there I am taking the doctor’s orders.

And then I have the rest of the day off, the mom figured it wasn’t worthwhile for me to come back into work.

Very grateful for that!

So yeah, a little up, a little down, but finding that as I have just eaten some dinner and got some laundry working in the wash and settled in for the night that I am finding my way back to some semblance of balance.

Of course.

I do have to acknowledge there’s been a tremendous amount of transition in my life these last few weeks what with finishing school, getting all the things ready for graduation, graduating, the party, work, clients, etc.

Oh yeah.

And my mom visiting.

Nothing like a parental visit to throw my routine in an uproar.

Not that it was a bad visit, it was just some things to add into my schedule that was already pretty packed.

I’m sure that once the week proceeds I’ll find my feet again and be fine.

A bumpy Monday is not the most unusual after a highly activating weekend with big emotions and events.

Maybe I just had a kiss of the Monday blues.

Back to the grind.

Back to the routine.

I found myself not wanting to go to work.

And I love the family I work for.

I think I needed a day off from my celebrations.

Time to breathe.

Slow down.

Pause.

Reflect and just be.

I am a busy lady.

But that’s been coming up for me more and more.

Making sure that I don’t over extend myself, not take on too much, not push too hard.

Definitely not take on more clients right now.

I’m ok with a steady seven.

I want to keep them through the summer and I have officially decided that I will leave my current internship completely.

Even if it means having fewer clients for a while.

Which I don’t think will last very long.

I am fairly certain that I will be up and running with the same amount of clients very quickly.

And.

If things roll smoothly, either cutting back a little at my nanny job or going part-time there as I establish my clientele.

There’s a few days when the office would be available for me earlier in the afternoon and I thought, wouldn’t that be nice, do a half day nannying, then do the other half as a paid therapist?

Of course I’ll most likely be starting out with nights and weekends.

But I can sense that the day clients and the early afternoon clients will not be that far off.

And so when I think of the small, petty irritations I had regarding my current internship, I reminded myself that it was temporary, a part of the path that I am on, and that I will soon be done with it, it was never supposed to be a forever thing and I can hang in there for a little while longer.

I can also leave if I want.

I could take the rest of the summer off if I wanted and not see any clients until I start at the private practice internship.

I don’t think that’s the best idea for me, I do need to continue to accrue hours and the experience of being an active therapist is something that I think will help me become more prepared for this next phase of development.

That being said.

I’m not going to be shy about taking time off if I need it.

Or taking vacation days.

Like Monday.

So happy I get a three-day weekend!

Over the moon.

Ok Monday.

We friends?

I’m ready for the rest of the week now.

Thanks!

All Systems Go

Fuck.

It was a busy, full, going on all four cylinders from the moment I got up, day, from early morning until.

Well.

Until.

Right about now.

I just got off an email back and forth with director of my internship, did a bunch of e-mails with some clients, booked some sessions, logged my hours for today in Track My Hours, and whew.

It’s like um, 10p.m.

I got up at 6:30 a.m.

That’s a full day.

I got some writing in today though, I hadn’t gotten as much morning page writing in the last week or so and it was really good to just let go on the page and scrawl away.

I also showered yesterday so I skipped it this morning, giving me a little more time to process all the junk in my head.

I don’t even know what I wrote, only that it felt good to write.

And.

I did a written gratitude list and sent another out to a friend via text.

I’m on a list he sends it to and I like getting it.

Not just because it reminds me to be grateful, it definitely does that, but to see what other people are grateful for.

I am grateful for everything.

My life is beyond my wildest dreams.

Sometimes it is strange and I wonder, how did I get here, but I know there are no mistakes in God’s world and I am being taken care of and having all the experiences I am supposed to be having.

Like being of service to the woman I am traveling with to Burning Man.

I am still having some trepidations about going with someone who is 74 years old, but I also am happy that I get to be of service to her.

It’s a nice to be of service to others, it gets me out of my head, and if you’ve never been to Burning Man it is super hard to imagine and of course, if you’re 74 there’s a different approach you’re going to make than if you are 24 or my age, 44.

How did I get to be 44?

Fuck.

Time flies.

I suppose I will look back in 30 years and wonder how it is that I got to be 74.

I’m going to be old.

I know it.

I also hope to be of service all the way to the end of my life.

I believe that’s the only way that I am going to be happy, by having a useful life, by helping others, it gives me happiness, it gets me out of my own head and I got to do a lot of it today.

I had a few phone check ins, one lady who I just recently met, and got to share some experience, strength and hope with her and although we are vastly different, we are the same person and it was good to hear how relieved she was to know that she’s not alone in her journey.

I got to talk with one of the other women I work with in recovery and I also got to see clients tonight.

And.

I worked with my supervisor.

I also got to go over my review with him, which was really enlightening and I got a better idea of how he thinks of me and what I am doing and that he also, although he didn’t exactly say it, likes me.

We had a great session and I learned a ton from him today.

I often feel as though I am taking a solo masters class in psychoanalytic theory when I am working with him.

I write a ton of notes and I can hear him in my head sometimes when I am with a client.

It’s exciting to work with him, he pushes me, he’s extraordinarily smart and intelligent, and I feel smart when I am working with him.

I like feeling smart.

I have always understood that I was intelligent, but the smart part of that eludes me, I have been mystified most of my life as to what people meant when they say, “you are so smart.”

I haven’t always felt that way.

Smart.

In fact.

I have often felt rather stupid, stupid in love, stupid in my life choices, idiotic some of the decisions I have made, or so I tell myself, but oh, the learning, the learning is so much.

I have such a wealth of experiences.

Mostly because I try to say yes to doing things.

Sometimes to my detriment, I’ll get too busy, I will get to wrapped up with my schedule and I won’t have the time to appreciate what is happening.

I try to find balance.

I don’t often succeed, but I try.

And I’m ok with failing.

Ah.

Who the fuck am I kidding.

I am never ok with failing, but I recognize that I am going to fail and that I will try again and again until it works its way out, whatever it is.

I guess what I am saying is that I live.

I am not sitting on the bleachers, I am in the game.

I am hustling.

Sometimes perhaps a little too much, but I know that it’s what it is right now.

And that all the things I did, mistakes, which were not mistakes, life experiences, travels, moving to Paris, moving back from Paris, trying things out, has led me here.

Right where I am supposed to be.

With the people in my life with whom I am supposed to be with.

Such gifts.

Such grace.

I didn’t expect it to look like this.

But.

I have to say.

It is a beautiful thing.

My life.

So beautiful.

My heart aches with it.

Grateful beyond words.

And now.

One more gratitude list before I retire.

Because.

Truly.

There is that much to be grateful for.

Every day.

Grateful.

Every damn day.

Wanted Woman

I got a text today after coming out of my second therapy session, went great, thanks, in regards to some services that someone wanted.

Specifically.

My former employer wanted to know if I could be available to cook for them every few Sundays.

Um.

Uh.

No.

Then my head was like, but it would be great to see the boys and I could make some extra money, and…

Fuck off head.

You are not working on your day off.

NO.

NOPE.

Not going to do it, there really is nothing that I could ask for that would compensate me enough to go into work on a Sunday.

I work 35 hours a week.

Go to graduate school full-time.

Meet with three people on a weekly basis for doing the deal.

Go to do the deal 6-7 times a week.

Plus.

In May I’ll star an internship that will be an additional 15 hours.

May is next month.

The last thing I want to do is spoil the few remaining Sundays I do have off.

And when my internship starts, I will only have Sundays off.

For a year.

One day off a week.

That’s it.

I’m not going to go to my former bosses house and make food.

Not going to do it.

Just saying.

Although, truth be told, I was hella flattered.

It’s nice to know that you are wanted.

I have actually said no a lot lately.

No to some baby sitting gigs.

Two specifically that come to mind, no to this idea of working on my day off and cooking.

No, thank you for thinking of me, but no.

Funny thing too, is how often I get this, “I know you’re busy, I know this is a long shot, but….”

Yup.

I am busy.

And yes, it is a long shot, and nope, still can’t do it.

I have also been asked by three different people to read their writing.

I know I write a blog every day and I write morning pages and I want to be able to read every thing that is sent to me, because that’s what good writers do, they also read, but I’ve got so much reading for school I haven’t even touched the two pieces that were sent to me an there’s a third heading towards my mailbox.

Maybe I’ll read them next year.

Bwahahahaha.

What I am recognizing though, is that I am sought after for my skills and as such, I’m really flattered, it’s nice to be thought of, it’s nice that people want me to weigh in on their writing.

I believe it means that folks think I might have some skills and something to offer.

I was asked last week about writing a blog and what tips I had.

I gave loads of tips.

But basically it comes down to, just write it.

Sit down.

Do the work.

There is, however, only so much work I can do, and as I am on day 9 in a row of working with out a day off, I might have an idea of how precious my time off is.

I have two days coming up, April 10th and 11th, next Monday and Tuesday.

I have to get through two more days of work and three days of school.

Then.

Freedom.

I couldn’t fathom picking up more work right now.

There was a time when I would have, the allure of the extra money is big, but really, I want to have a full rounded life.

I want to have some fun and I want to have a tiny little bit of social life.

I also want to have rest and I want to be able to do yoga.

I have to keep tabs on myself and my self-care, I can’t show up to work or school or my soon to be happening internship if I’m not taking care of myself.

It’s an ethical issue.

It really is.

So I was proud of myself for saying I was unavailable.

I responded with kindness and acumen.

I was nice, I’m saying.

And that felt good too.

People will ask for what they want, and they’re allowed to ask, but I don’t have to people please and say yes to everything that is offered.

I believe that something better than money will happen for me on my Sunday if I’m not busy literally slaving over a hot stove.

God wants more for me than that.

Dating.

Friends.

Life.

Adventures.

Rest.

Recuperation.

All the things.

Not cooking all the things.

Anyway.

I am looking forward to school this weekend, even though my school days are long days, longer than my work days, they are days filled with thinking and showing up and learning and friends.

I am really excited to see my friends.

I have missed them.

I have some catching up to do.

Yes, I do.

The only thing I get bummed about, who would have thought it, is missing yoga on Saturday and Sunday.

Although I may try to sneak in a restorative yoga class Sunday after I get out of classes.

That is a good possibility.

I’m sad to miss my favorite teachers class on Saturday, but so be it.

As long as I can try to get into a Monday class in the morning, I will be making up for the loss of class on Saturday.

I get a head of myself

Let me stay in this week, where, yes, it is full, but there’s wiggle room here and there.

A coffee with a friend.

Catching up with my fellows tomorrow night.

Wrapping up the last bits and pieces of my school preparations.

Doing a little laundry.

And yes.

Chilling out a bit.

Like right now.

A cup of tea.

A video.

A snack.

And bed.

Sounds just about perfect.

No more cooking today.

No soup for you!

Balance

I don’t know how it actually happened.

But.

It actually happened.

I did yoga, visited a friend in the East Bay, hey y’all San Leandro is much cuter than I remember, read four chapters in my Trauma reading–officially finishing the reading for the next weekend of class, listened to a two-hour podcast for said Trauma class, roasted a chicken, and made homemade chicken soup.

What?

I didn’t drive myself crazy trying to do it either.

It all just sort of sweetly unfolded.

I got up and went to yoga and it was good and I stayed pretty present in the class, only running out the door in my brain a few times trying to figure out schedules and such, but mostly I was just there in the studio doing the yoga and breathing.

I did not want to go this morning and I almost talked myself out of it, but in the end, my body won and walked me over to the studio.

My brain was mollified by the rest it got from worrying and I felt good being in my body.

Which my brain tells me will never happen as I don’t have a 22-year-old yoga body, but I do have a 44-year-old body and there was a woman in her 60s today doing yoga, that’s what I love about it, anyone can do it, although, yes, there does seem to be a proclivity for a certain type of person to be doing yoga, I do see a lot of different ages and abilities.

Yesterday there was a woman next to me who was obviously pretty new to yoga and it reminded me how awkward and uncomfortable I was in my first weeks of classes, and it also demonstrated to me that even a woman with what I would in my twisted brains says has a “better body” than me, wasn’t able to keep up with the class and I did.

This is not a judgement, it was just good noticing on my part and it helped me see that even though I am just getting in two classes  week, I’m staying in it and I can see that I have gotten better, even when I think I never will, I have.

And that we all have different bodies, some more flexible, some less flexible, some more balanced, some less balance, and that all of us, at least in that class, are doing the best we can and we showed up.

I am grateful for showing up.

I am also grateful for going over to the East Bay and catching up with my friend.

I miss her.

It’s hard when friends move and the number of folks that I have said goodbye to who have moved out of San Francisco is challenging.

And it’s hard to stay in connection with folks, even if they are just a train ride away.

Living in the Outer Sunset makes it challenging.

I was going to ride my scooter to a BART station and park it and go over, but after yoga, I was jut too tired, and sort of loose in my brain and I thought, screw it, just grab the N-Judah train downtown and take BART from the Embarcadero.

Yes.

It did take longer than had I been on my scooter.

But.

The upside?

I had time to read!

I finished the reading for my Trauma class and was very happy to get off the train in San Leandro and see my sweet friends smiling face from her car as she drove up to pick me up.

God damn it was good to see her.

I got to see her new digs and go for a scenic drive around the hills and have yummy lunch and catch the fuck up.

She understands my conundrum quite well having gone through nursing school.

Grad school is a hard, lonely, hard, lonely, time-consuming, expensive, did I say lonely, road to trudge.

Add work into that mix and it feels like that is all I do.

Work.

Whether it is school work or work work, it feels like work.

Then I realize, maintaining relationships is work too.

And that all this work, it does pay off.

My friends’ a nurse.

I have friends who are doctors and lawyers, lots of nurses too, I know PhD’s in history, I know teachers and filmmakers, I know landscape horticulturists and creative writing professionals, I know someone at Oxford for fuck’s sake.

We have all done this to get somewhere.

The work is work and it is a joy too.

Although, I have to say I appreciate it more, this work, when I make room for the work that it takes to make sure that I am staying connected to my friends and fellows.

That might actually be the most important work there is, might, ha, it really is, these relationships are what gets me through, I couldn’t do this on my own.

I just could not.

Oh.

Sure.

Sometimes I do wish I could, but I can’t and for that I am grateful.

When I tried to do it on my own, well, I fell pretty flat.

When I began to work in concert with others in relation.

Well.

I started getting somewhere.

I want to keep connecting and reconnecting.

I want to keep that balance.

I am not sure what that looks like and for today, well, I don’t have to, I did have it, I did see my friend, I did do yoga, and homework, a lot of it, and I did meal prep, which is always important to me, I did all the things.

And they were nice.

They really.

Really.

Were.

 

 

Space Cadet

I’m a little zoned out.

It was suggested to me that I stop beating myself up for not doing enough, let me see, yoga, homework, work, doing the deal, dating, not dating, cooking, cleaning, laundry, blogging, writing, photography, dancing, hanging out with girlfriends, looking for a boyfriend, getting interview clothes for practicum, figuring out where to apply to practicum, writing my resume, re-writing my resume, re-writing my re-write of my resume, updating my LinkedIn profile (which haven’t used in literally years and may still have my old yahoo e-mail address linked to it), doing my taxes, figuring it out.

Yeah.

I sort of fell into that hole again.

But it was a shallow hole and I climbed out pretty fast.

It was suggested that I take it easy this weekend and go to a movie theater, like the Balboa and maybe hang out at the coffee-house across the way and have Chinese food for dinner at that one place that has the best fucking Miso Shrimp ever.

I could stand that.

I don’t know that I’m going to.

I really do like taking suggestions and I find that they are super important to me.

They are given to me with kindness and perspective and to save my ass, because I get so spun trying to get it all in that I forget to slow down and enjoy my life.

But.

I have homework I said and I have to do my taxes.

Girl.

He was not having it.

I got my marching orders.

I’ll see if I can squeeze it in.

No guarantees.

It was a conversation that was set off when I teared up explaining that I have only been able to manage getting to yoga on the weekends since starting the new job and trying to navigate the school and work balance.

It was pointed out that I wasn’t doing anything wrong and that I certainly was doing more than enough.

I was basically told to knock it off.

I knocked it off.

I am slowly letting myself do and be as much as I can and trying to spend time outside of my regular routine any time that I can so that I am getting some socializing in and also not just doing school and work and recovery.

Which is all good but I need fun in my life too.

I do.

I have a date for diner and dessert on Saturday.

That will be nice.

I shared that with my person and that was met with approval,  a little fun and canoodle is much-needed.

We were going to try to meet tonight but his coming into the city plans changed up.

Which, in hindsight, brief hindsight, is probably good.

I want to end out the week with the family and not be sleep deprived.

Work has been busier this week than I have experienced, the little lady was home sick again today and I suspect that tomorrow will be much like today.

But in between the bouts of dealing with a fussy, sick, temper tantrums, I did get some sweet snuggle and stories in.

The parents were both around much of the day and when you are four you want mom and dad, not the new nanny.

So there was much telling me I was “stupid” and “go away.”

I’m used to it and wasn’t much fazed.

“You are not my friend and I don’t love you and you don’t have any friends,” she told me a couple of times today.

“No friends?” I asked, “none at all?”

“No. No friends, not, ___________ or _____________ or___________.”

“Ok,” I said, “I feel sad, but maybe one day we will be friends.”

“NEVER.”

And five minutes later she was playing peek-a-boo with me and then curling up in my arms, “will you rub my back again,” she whispered into my shoulder.

Sweet little pumpkin.

Probably a good thing I didn’t have my date tonight, although I was much looking forward to it.

I loved his message, “want to stay up past your bedtime?”

Heh.

Always.

It’s nice to have a lover peep you out of the blue.

I could stand for more of that.

I’m not actively doing any dating at the moment though.

It feels hard enough to commit to making it to friend events.

I have a birthday dinner invite tomorrow that I am trying to figure out how to work so I can do the deal and do the dinner.

Next weekend I have a double anniversary dinner to go to.

And I’m speaking in Oakland again.

It’s a busy couple of weeks.

Fuck.

When isn’t it busy?

So, to be pursuing dating seems frivolous and distracting and not where I need to be putting my energy.

Although I did have a gentleman ask for my number last night.

I wonder if he will call.

I have no expectations around it at all, but it would be nice.

I’m going to continue to let the pursuing happen rather than try to do any pursuing.

I don’t have time to chase.

There is enough time though, to do all the things, and as long as I do a little every day, all the things will get done.

I did a little homework today before work.

I did a little reading at lunch today.

I’m doing my own personal writing every day in the morning, my morning pages, four today.

I am keeping up with my blog and managing to get to all the places I need to go.

So grateful that I have had my scooter for the last couple of days and not been reliant on the trains or cars.

Super huge time save.

And tomorrow is Friday.

It feels like a long week.

And that’s ok.

I haven’t been sick, I have gotten more and more comfortable with my new job and I really am happy with how school is going even when it feels overwhelming, it is such a great thing for me to be doing and I’m find myself extraordinarily pleased by it.

I have done a lot of work and grown a tremendous amount.

I guess what I’m saying is life is good.

I’m taken care of.

And I will try to take my person’s suggestion.

They always serve.

I wonder what’s playing at the Balboa Theater.

Anyone want to go see a movie?

Seriously.

And All That

All there is to balance.

All there is to do.

All the fun to be had.

All the flirting.

I love flirting.

It is just so much fun.

I also like taking it a little further, so here’s to trying again and another date for tomorrow night.

Yes.

I am busy.

But fuck it, I also have been told so many times to lighten up and go have fun and all work and graduate school are not going to be allowed to suck the fun out of my life.

And there’s room for it.

I do have room for it.

I am busy, yes, but not so busy that a little lightness, a cup of tea, a conversation, can’t be made.

I can and have made the time.

So here’s to another round of trying and also knowing that I don’t have to make the same mistakes, and also that, yes, there’s probably other mistakes that I will make and overall and all and all, it’s all for the good.

No matter what.

Ah dating.

So much fun.

So many places to get humility.

But really, what I have been responding to is when I am being sparkled at.

That seems a really good way for me to know that there is something true there.

Is the person shining at me?

Is the man across from me engaged.

I mean chemistry.

So.

I’ll be climbing back into the saddle and having very much learned my lesson, be a better date as well.

And if there’s no chemistry, so be it, I tried.

Just keep showing up.

And just leave it alone.

I did some inventory tonight with my person after work and it was just so good.

I shared and when asked what I should have done instead, it was so simple, “walked away and left him alone.”

Or as my dearest girlfriend said today, and has said before, “go where it’s warm.”

And believe them when they say they are not available or if they don’t call back or text back that’s the same as I’m not available and it doesn’t even matter if they’re interested.

“Honey, they’re all interested, they’re just not all available.”

Exactly.

So believe them when they say I’m not available and save yourself the fucking heart ache.

Because they, the guys, the men, anyone, could be a friend too, are giving you all the information you need right up front, right away, and I can hear it with honesty and integrity and believe it.

Which means living in reality.

Not fantasy.

Because even though fantasy is nice it sure as shit ain’t real.

And the “safety” it offers is not really safe, it’s just another way to self-sabotage my way to unhappiness.

I’m also lightly holding all the things in my heart around this.

It has been an ever deepening awareness of myself that I have been sticking my hand into for years, this I want to date, be involved romantically, try, and then not wanting to try, feeling unworthy, unlovable, not good enough.

You know what’s crazy?

Every single swipe on Tinder that is a positive for me, every guy that I have said, sure, I’d go on a date, has been a match.

100%

I haven’t not matched at all.

And.

I realized it was freaking me the fuck out.

Whoa.

I am attractive.

Shit, fuck, what?

Um.

Hello.

And there’s this nasty little voice in me, oh, that’s just a good picture, you’re more photogenic, you’re body’s not good enough, etc, etc, etc.

Shut up.

I am perfect.

The body is perfect.

Well.

Imperfectly perfect, perfect for me, soft in spots, curvy in others, a grey hair there, a wrinkle here, but this is it, this is me and me is pretty and sweet and sexy and nice and stupid sometimes, but I try and my heart is big and I’m a great cook.

Not that I’m trying to get you to ask me out or anything.

Heh.

I’m must appreciating my assets and knowing, really, firmly, in good stead realizing, that I am worthy.

Worthy of love.

Worthy of respect.

Which all has to do with how I treat myself and the behavior I accept or do not accept from those I engage with.

Which means knowing what I need and want and sticking to my guns.

Anywho.

That’s what’s upstairs in my thoughts tonight.

That and weather and being a bit bummed to not be on my scooter, I thought I was going ot get in one more day of being on it, but it started to rain as I was doing some reading for school before I headed into work, so I grabbed a car and it looks like that’s how it’s going to be for the rest of the week.

I’m not going to ride my bike, I’m not going to waste time on MUNI, my time is a precious resource, so I’m also not going to be upset about spending a few extra dollars getting to and from work and to and from school.

Tomorrow, more reading, get the final edits done on my papers, work, my commitment, and a tea date.

Then.

I get ready for the school weekend and I’ll see you on the other side.

Well.

I’ll still be showing up here.

I haven’t failed to blog yet since I started graduate school.

Kind of amazing that, now that I am thinking about it, but I love it so, I do, my little blog.

My troublesome outlet, I do love it, I do.

The writing is my balm.

The words clicking out of the keyboard onto the screen, then out into the world, to land, well, who knows where.

Just that I sent them out.

Just that I show up.

That’s all.

Try.

Fall down.

Get the fuck back up.

Laugh at myself.

And love myself.

And oh yeah, let me not forget this one, remember.

Always.

That I am worthy.

I am enough.

Yes.

Oh yes.

I am.

So.

Fucking.

Worthy.

It’s Not The App

It’s you.

That is a direct quote.

I was sharing something with my person about the frustrations of online dating and then I said something, for the life of me (unconsciously don’t want to embarrass myself?) I cannot remember exactly what I said, but I basically blamed Tinder for my inability to score a date.

“It’s not the app, it’s you,” she said again.

I know, I know.

Cue a lot of school reading today, a lot of introspection, and a lot of writing.

The normal writing I do, every morning, although I did have a different tack today than typical.

I found myself waking up with my alarm and feeling that instead of taking the time to make breakfast and do my morning pages, the thing to do would be to get up and go right to the yoga class at 9 a.m. instead of the one I had signed up for at 10:30 a.m.

I wasn’t hungry, I had a late snack last night with my tea and I knew that if I did eat breakfast and go to the class I might feel a little bogged down with the oatmeal in my body.

So.

I hopped up, striped my bed–Sunday is bed sheet day, fresh sheets are a must to start off the we–drank some water, brushed my teeth, threw my hair up into a messy bun, re-made my bed with clean sheets, read some stuff, said some stuff, drank a quick shot of iced coffee with unsweetened vanilla almond milk and strolled the 1/2 block to Yoga Beach for the Vinyasa Flow class.

Today was my 9th day of yoga.

I have been going for fifteen days.

Not bad.

And I recognized the yoga instructor!

An acquaintance from the hood who I had no idea worked at the studio.

“I was wondering when I would see you here!” He said with a big smile.

I told him that it was class number 9 and I was pretty into it, although very humbled by the experience.

I have also been enjoying the feeling in my body though, of length, of my core getting stronger, of not losing the bicycle muscle I have in my legs, my hips have been feeling looser, not so tight, and my knees have also felt better.

And yes.

Thank you ego for the reminder.

I’ve lost a little weight.

Not the goal, but a nice side benefit.

Mostly from the exercise I presume, but also I have noticed a distinct tendency to eat even cleaner than I typically do.

Yes, that is kale in my fridge.

The class was good and I actually was able to do one of the poses that the first time I saw it demonstrated I was like, um, no.

Except.

Today.

Well.

I just did it.

It wasn’t a big deal move, I’m not standing on my head or anything, but it was fun to see myself stretch and try for something that just a week ago seemed intimidating and impossible.

Sometimes great change can happen quickly.

I just have to be flexible to the situation when things happen.

I left the studio with an open heart and a great deal of gratitude.

I walked past a huddle of neighbors on a stoop outside smoking cigarettes and lounging in the only real sun the day was to have, with some humor in my heart.

I used to be that girl on the front porch steps smoking cigarettes and hanging with the boys.

Not anymore.

Nope.

Today I was the girl all blissed out with the yoga mat in her bag strolling home to eat a bowl of organic oatmeal and apples with blueberries.

Heh.

“Just getting out of yoga?” One of the guys asked and drew on his cigarette, “down the block, Yoga Beach, right, they just opened, yeah.”

“Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago,” I said and smiled, we all silently acknowledged the humor of the moment, two bros and a gal smoking in the sun, obviously all a touch hung over.

“Gotta check that out, you know, soon, ease it in the schedule,” he smiled.

I patted the dog lolling in front of the stoop, “you should, it’s great,” and I walked home happy and a tiny bit incredulous to be this woman who gets up and goes to yoga before eating a healthy breakfast and doing fabulous self-care.

Said self-care meant also not re-employing the dating app on my phone.

This is not to say that I might not or that I may not go back to OkCupid.

I had a really enlightening day about it yesterday from not just my person’s viewpoint, but also from another woman.

Ironically, the woman who saw me walk down to cafe.

They both intimated that it was a job, it would take work, that it would not be without effort and I realized how much I had expected, in some odd ball kind of way, without really realizing it, that I wanted fairy tale pixie dust magic with the damn thing.

Instantaneous gratification.

Which on one hand there is the illusion there to it.

But.

On the other.

It’s not the app, it’s me.

Cue all the reading for school and the paper I wrote, second one in the weekend!

I realized some things, other than some discomfort to see that I was great at dating narcissists, border line personalities, and where I had negative counter transference in a variety of work and personal relationships.

Yeesh.

It was intense to read it and also to know that knowledge of self does not always avail me.

But taking different actions certainly does.

So when I wanted to use the app I did not re-install it, because it would have been avoidance of doing the school work that I needed to do–checking out through fantasy.

However.

I also see the benefits of trying again.

Pick myself up and try again.

The change is not the app, the change is me.

How I see the world, how I operate, how I move in it.

And learn, accept, forgive, and grow.

I don’t know that I’m going to find true love on Tinder or Match.com or OKCupid or Bumble or Hinge or Facebook or Myspace.

Ok.

That last one might have been reaching, but I think you understand the gist.

That being said.

I won’t also find it if I don’t try.

Those things worth having are worth working for.

I am not afraid of the work.

And I’m not too busy to do it.

When I say I’m too busy, that’s me pushing you out of my life.

I can, however, know what my needs are and if I need to study I can refrain from engaging with the dating, but if I need to have some fun and try getting out of my comfort zone.

Well.

I’m going to damn it.

Because I’m worth it and I deserve to be happy.

No man will ever complete me, but I do believe that some one may well be my companion and my compliment.

That is something to strive for.

And to continue to lighten up.

Take it easy.

And laugh at myself.

There’s a good few chuckles in there to be had.

Seriously.

More than a few.

Heh.

Balance

I didn’t have it this morning.

I recognized that pretty much after telling God to fuck off in my morning prayers.

God can take it.

God’s a good bitch like that.

I was mad.

I have been annoyed and I didn’t even realize it until I was kneeling next to my freshly made bed, with my freshly shaved and showered self, my wild mane of curly “bronde” hair and my attitude, which, was yes, bigger than my hair.

I was hearing my Applied Spirituality professor’s voice in my head.

And it just popped out.

“Fuck you.”

Then.

I felt the fear and it was a surprise, I mean, I didn’t honestly realize that I was this afraid of this class, that I am holding on this tightly to my routine.

I wrote some inventory after I finished my breakfast.

God.

It really works.

Amazing.

How it works.

Once again it boils down to a fear of not having enough time and also that if I monkey with something that has worked so well for me for the last 11 years that I may not have the next 11 years.

Which is just bullshit and distracting and I can’t tell what’s going to happen in the next 11 days, let alone years.

Fuck.

I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next 11 minutes.

Things.

They could switch on a dime.

The thing is I am able to roll with it.

But mess with my morning routine and I get a bit fractious.

Suggest that you want me to implement on a daily basis something that requires a half hour more of my day and I am all up in arms.

All up in that shit.

So I wrote it down and got it off my chest and made a phone call and told on myself and then got to focus on being of service where I was off to next.

Work.

And I did.

I did a good job at work, I had fun with the boys, I got to go outside and be in the sun.

Oh, delicious sunshine, how I have missed you.

I took the boys out to the grand re-opening of Dolores Park.

It was something else.

And I’m not talking about the flood of Millenials with their sacks of burritos and sandwiches from Rhea and the hipsters with their micro-brewed six packs, the bike messengers with their Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Or the floods of pot smoke.

Jesus.

I suppose the park was officially christened with weed when it gets right down to it.

No, what I’m talking about is the park.

The glorious, full tilt boogie that is Dolores Park at its delirious best.

The grass was green, the sun shone benevolently, it’s a week day and the opening of the park, but it wasn’t obscenely packed.

It will be.

It looks so nice.

I am so grateful I got to be around to see it re-open.

The renovation has been a long one, and it reminded me of the first time I saw the park and dreams I would have of it, flying, I remember a flying dream I had about Dolores Park back in 2001 before I moved here to the city I had visited–the park made an impression.

I got to review the last 13 1/2 years that I have lived in San Francisco.

“Where are you from?” The driver asked me yesterday.

I internally sighed, not interested in having this conversation, but I’ll play along.

To a point.

“Here,” I said bluntly.

“Oh, well, you know, your name,” the driver tried.

I decided I would help a little, but I wasn’t going to go into the whole saga, the moving from here to there, the growing up in Wisconsin, the no I don’t speak Spanish conversation.

“I was born in San Jose,” I said.

I had a sudden realization of not having to be wrapped up in my own story.

It’s just a story after all.

The only reason it’s special is because it’s mine.

All stories ares special, I just know the details to mine rather well, it’s familiar you could say.

What is not familiar is this feeling of balance and serenity that has come from doing so much work and also from being able to acknowledge and recognize my feelings a lot faster.

The faster I notice that I am out of whack.

The faster I can get back on the beam.

I am a sensitive lady.

I used to think that I had a really high threshold for pain and that this was something to be proud of.

Not so much.

I don’t need to suffer.

The more I allow my feelings, the less I suffer, and that less I actually attach true meaning to them.

Feelings are valid, but feelings aren’t facts.

Plus feelings are super transient.

They come and go.

And I can hold more than one at a time.

That was a revelation when I realized it was ok to be happy when I was sad.

That it wasn’t all so black and white.

Lovely little shades of grey, nuances of emotions.

I have a palette.

I also have a memory and I realized that I was probably also a little extra sensitive when I got teary reading some inspirational quote on my Facecrack feed.

I went back and re-read it to get the full gist and a tear actually did fall.

Oh.

Fuck.

I’m getting my period.

I haven’t ovulated yet, but it’s getting ready.

Which would also explain the super sensitive nose I had yesterday.

My sense of smell goes through the roof when I am close to my period.

I think my body is busy sniffing out a male with some juice to get busy with, that’s the instinctual thing I think, pheromones and what have you.

I may be 43, but the body is still not done with that part.

Yet.

I figure I am almost close to that chapter ending too, but who knows.

Not here to think about that.

Grateful for self-awareness and self-acceptance.

And.

Spiritual solutions.

To my.

Applied Spirituality class.

I get to remind myself.

God’s plan is better than mine.

Just get out the way, Martines.

God wants better for you than you want for yourself.

Drop the rock.

And open your arms to the flowers being held out to you instead.

I like flowers.

 

Inbound to Richmond District

You got to love NextBus.

I don’t often ride the MUNI trains or the bus, but when I do, this is the best app ever.

EVER.

I can sit in my house, noodle around, and when I have about three minutes, maybe four, if I’m feeling anxious, walk out the door, walk to the end of the block, and voila!

Bus arriving.

So nice.

Remember when you just sat and waited?

Forever.

It would say bus every ten to fifteen minutes in the schedule, but it was 49 minutes later and you’ve seen 18 buses headed the other direction and yet, here you are, alone, cold, shivering in the fog, waiting for the fucking bus to come.

Not waiting for Godot.

No never.

Waiting for the 22.

Or the infamous 24.

Or the 33.

Oh how I have waited for the buses.

Today, I just scrolled my finger on my phone, popped open the app and saw when the next one was coming and even better.

The app also has the time that the bus behind it is coming.

Brilliant.

Therefore allowing me time to do what ever I need to do at the house before leaving the house.

I got up early and got my errands, chores, and laundry on.

I still got a good night’s sleep, just a touch over eight hours, and I took a friend’s suggestion and silenced my phone last night.

I will forget and be pinged awake at all hours of the night, texts from my sister in Florida, which is three, no, four hours ahead, at 6:30 a.m.; messages from friends, Twitter alerts, Facebook messages, all manner of social media pings and beeps and boops.

Plus, of course the occasional text and what have you.

It’s nice on one hand to be in the mix.

But sometimes I don’t want to know who has like my Instagram feed.

I want to sleep.

It is with that in mind that I also do not look at my phone, I am not always successful, or respond to messages until after I have done my morning routine.

I can’t flip on my phone and lie in bed and scroll the internet universe.

I will be a grumpy toad before even having tossed aside the sheets.

I love my world, I love my friends, I love, love, love that I am in contact with so many of them through so many different places.

Case in point: having a conversation on the ride back from North Berkeley with my friend about not having a ticket, yet, to Burning Man, this conversation happened about oh, 24 hours ago, slightly less.  Fast forward to a few minutes ago when I saw a post on a private Facebook page for a group I belong to for a camp at Burning Man that I have dear friends camping at.  The post featured a link to another post saying, hey friends, I have two tickets, who wants them?

I see lots of people want them.

Lots.

However, I look closer, oh!!

It’s my good friend from my first year at the burn when I camped with Camp Stella and he gave me my first playa name: Ophelia and has a photo of me hanging in his office from the dust storm I fell asleep in (I got covered in dust, head to toe, had my hands crossed over my chest and was wearing a tutu, face mask, bandana, and goggles, I looked dead).

I have to hook my friends up!

I message both, get a text from both, exchange phone numbers and they just got off the phone with each other and my friend who didn’t have a ticket.

Well.

Now he does!

Fabulous.

It can happen like that.

Sometimes, though, I do need to slow down, take it easy, turn off the technology and rest.

It helps me get clear with the things I do need to do and a lot of that has to do with taking extremely good care of myself.

Laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, composting, taking out the trash, meeting with the ladies and doing the deal.

I had two ladies back to back from noon to 2p.m.

But before that.

I did all of those things above.

Plus my own writing and having a nice breakfast (hot oatmeal with diced pear and blueberries, cinnamon, nutmeg, sea salt, raw cocoa, one organic hard-boiled egg, lots of coffee w/unsweetened vanilla almond milk) of my own.

Then later after my last lady bug had left.

I got to have lunch from what I had cooked earlier, dinner too, and I had time to do a field trip.

So.

I opened my NextBus app and saw when the 18 was heading my way.

Richmond bound.

Legion of Honor.

That’s right.

I finally got myself in to see the Brooklyn Museum’s Costume Collection: High Style.

Oh my.

It was so good.

I got all sorts of art high.

House of Worth, Roger Worth evening dresses.

Edward Molyneux evening dresses.

Vionnet.

Givenchy.

Dior.

Yves St. Laurent.

Charles James and the muslims for his ball gowns, breath-taking.

Steven Arpad, for Delman, Inc evening shoes.

Elsa Schiaparelli butterfly day dress and parasol.

I’ll take two please!

Oh fashion, how I do love you.

Plus, you know, the normal galleries with their Monet’s and Pissarro’s, the Rodin sculptures everywhere, the Renoir’s and Manet’s (I like the Impressionists a bit you could say), it was just scrumptious.

The museum was a bit busy, there was also a concert happening–an organ concert by David Hegarty–which I thought about staying for, but it was standing room only and it felt nicer to just wander through the galleries with the sound of the Skinner Organ drifting around me.

I’m ever so grateful for all the tech that this world has, I mean, I am writing a blog and posting it online and sending it out into the inter webs, but I am also a Mensch for the classic, time-worn, much beloved wander through a museum, sit on a bench and listen to an organ concert, admire art, slow and delicious, taking the bus and not riding my bike willy nilly though the park and over the hills.

I believe this is what’s called balance.

Serenity.

It’s a nice place to be in my life.

More please.