Posts Tagged ‘inventory’

That’s Not Mine

September 13, 2017

It’s yours.

Or.

It is mine?

Or is it both?

Turns out yesterday it was both/and.

I hate that.

Both.

And.

I had a client working through some traumatic stuff in session yesterday and I realized later that I had taken some of it with me.

It was hard to shake.

Why was it so hard to shake?

I talked to my therapist today about it.

We isolated it and moved through it and all sorts of stuff came up.

Jesus fucking Christ.

All the stuff.

Fortunately, and I mean this in the sincerest way possible, fortunately, I have been doing self-examination and inventory and work on myself for such a long time that I was able to work through it.

I can’t and won’t divulge what happen in session with my client.

That’s a breach of ethics and I am honor bound to keep those things within the walls of my office.

But.

I can say that what happened had a resounding feel to me of something that had happened to me.

I couldn’t quite pin it.

I know that there was an extraordinary amount of emotion in the room when I worked with my client last night.

I relayed to my therapist things that happened for me in my body, what it felt like, the counter transference that happened and the transference.

And.

That I recognized that some of what I was feeling was my clients and some of what I was feeling was mine.

Thank God for a great therapist.

We isolated it.

Or.

I isolated it.

She did what therapist do, good therapists, she held the field, she let me find my way, she made some connections for me that I didn’t see, she held me with empathy, she validated my experience, she reflected and gave me perspective.

And.

Holy shit.

There it was.

And I broke down and bawled.

Great big ugly tears.

Relieved to get it out.

Although it tried to stick for a second.

It tried really hard.

It did not want to come out.

I was choked with grief.

Stricken.

I got it out though and I named the emotions I was feeling.

Trying to stuff them all into the crumpled ball of tissue in my moist hand.

Guilt.

Shame.

Unendurable guilt.

For getting out, for doing better, for surviving.

For being financially “well off.”

Bwahhahahahaaha.

Have you seen my student loan statement?

I have.

Meh.

Anyway.

Though I may have a fuck ton of student loans, fuck it, I’m worth the investment, I am, I am, I also have a modicum of financial security and I have a nice little home and I have nice little things.

I have a scooter.

I have a bicycle.

I have security.

In so much as I continue working at the pace I am working.

I don’t have much of a security blanket in the savings account.

But hey.

I have a savings account.

When I think about how successful I am in comparison to my mom or my sister and how I have always managed to find a way out, I sometimes, more so than I want to admit, have guilt.

And then.

I belittle my experiences or my own traumas, because, man, they had and have it bad too, and I’ve found a way through.

There is no way through but through.

It’s painful.

But.

Fuck.

It’s so worth it.

And I also see that I am not responsible for my sister, for my mother, for my father, my nieces.

I am, and can only be, responsible for myself.

But the guilt.

It hit me hard.

I was feeling awkward about an upcoming birthday in my family and I was relaying how many times, so many, too many to count, that I have sent gifts trying to foster some sense of connection and love to my family.

And.

Have not received it.

Oh.

I know there’s love.

But I haven’t the emotional connection to my family that I was trying to cultivate, a sort of reciprocation of love and that I need to let go of trying to get it the same way I have been doing so for decades.

We, my therapist and I, talked about how I might be able to establish connection, about what I could do.

I have to say it felt futile.

I was fucking flummoxed.

Then.

As I sat and the grief washed over me and I saw how hard I had tried to do something, taking the same action time and time again, that maybe there was another way.

Maybe.

I don’t know.

But I sussed a few things out and suddenly I had an answer.

It may not be “the” answer.

But.

It felt good to process it all out and find the connections and see how the traumatic experience that I bore witness to when I was with my client last night led me to work through and settle out something that has been nagging me for decades in my relationship to my sister and my nieces.

I don’t have a lot of close family.

Just my sister.

I have almost no relationship whatsoever with either of my nieces.

Although I helped significantly in the first years of my oldest niece’s life.

And I love her so much.

After I moved away from Wisconsin our relationship grew very thin.

My sister had troubles of her own and many challenges that I could not face for her.

Fuck.

I had to deal with my own shit.

The last time I saw my oldest niece was over fifteen years ago.

She was nine.

In a few days she will be 25.

I was nineteen when she was born.

I was the first person to hold her.

I saw her crowning.

I saw my sister endure the most excruciating pain.

I rocked that baby to sleep so many nights, I sang her songs, I can feel the heaviness of her carrier in my arms now.

I loved her beyond any previously known capacity to love.

And that is enough.

I gave what I could when I could and when the paths of my family and mine diverged, it was right to go the way I did.

To allow others the dignity of their own experiences.

To allow others to feel the weight of their choices, the consequences, good, bad, indifferent, to their actions, and not interfere.

I can still love my sister, my mother, my father, my nieces.

I can still love my cousins and aunts, uncles, my remaining grandparent.

But.

I don’t have to do so at the expense of myself.

I don’t have to lose myself in care taking.

I mean.

hahahaha.

Who the fuck am I kidding?

I’m a therapist in training, I may very well lose myself in it all over again, the care taking thing, but I also get to have boundaries and frames and I get to help in a way that won’t drain me.

At least that is what I have hope for.

I have a deep capacity for love and my experiences have borne this out.

I have and will always love my family.

I just won’t put their needs before mine any longer.

I deserve better.

And.

Well.

Fuck.

So do they.

Who the hell am I to decide how they should live their lives.

They have their own God.

As do I.

Thank God.

Grace.

Over.

Drama.

For the most part.

I was a hot mess yesterday and today in therapy but it got worked out and it got worked out fast.  So grateful for that.

Beyond words.

And though it may not seem cause for celebration.

It is.

And.

I am.

Yes.

The luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

I am.

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And It’s Here

August 25, 2017

Holy shit.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow is my first day of classes in my third, and last, year of my Masters in Counseling Psychology program.

Fuck.

How did it get to be time already.

It feels hyper surreal.

On one hand I feel like I was just in class last weekend.

On the other it feels like years and ages.

I also have a better sense of what I’m walking into with my schedule as I have spent some time tonight doing more reading for class and looking over my syllabi for the classes I have tomorrow.

I only have two.

Which is a change from previous years when I had three classes a day on Fridays.

Of course.

I have practicum, which is the difference.

And beginning in September, basically after I get back from Burning Man, I will be seeing clients on Fridays.

And.

Sigh.

Saturdays too.

I have a few clients scheduled for my first weekend back from playa.

Mostly to make up for the sessions I will have missed by being out-of-town.

I was pleased and flattered when two of my clients asked me to make up sessions with them, they didn’t want to go two weeks without seeing me.

That was nice to hear.

I am doing a good job.

Not the best, I am far from the best, but I’m doing a decent job and I know that I am making headway with my clients and that they are getting something out of the relationship, enough so that they want to continue seeing me and wanting to make up for the lost sessions.

I am grateful for the work.

It is work.

Don’t get me wrong, but it is also such rewarding work.

And I am also happy that I am continuing to learn and make connections and see things, that the work generates constant learning is amazing.

I am not in a cookie cutter job, I am getting to constantly and consistently learn.

No better thing that.

I shall spend my whole life learning and still feel that there is so much more to know and learn and so much growth yet to be had.

Perhaps on this plane.

Perhaps in another.

I don’t know what or where any of this is going.

I just know that I want, with sincerest passion and longing, to be true to this moment, the one I am in, that in this moment there is constant love, consistency and self-awareness.

I am the best person I know how to be.

In this moment.

It will change.

I will have my failings.

I will freak out.

I will get scared.

I did today when I inadvertently flipped open Facebook, which I am less and less on, I just don’t have the time or bandwidth for it, to see a response to a post I had put up about having found a ride to Burning Man and how I was happy for it.

The response was from the woman I am going with.

And it should have been a direct message to me.

But.

Nope.

Of course it wasn’t, it was a post displayed for the entire forum to see, hundreds of folks.

I didn’t respond because it wasn’t the right thing to do and I felt instant, I mean, instant resentment.

Don’t fucking change things up on me now!

I am inflexible when I am in fear.

I want what I want and I want it the way that I want it.

Got that?

Good.

So, basically, do it my way.

Damn it.

But no.

My ride has some ideas, some thoughts, some desires to do it her way.

And as such.

Wanted to know if I would be open to renting a mini van.

Oh.

Well.

Fuck my life.

I had a fucking reservation made on my own to rent a god damn vehicle, a reservation I cancelled after securing the ride with the woman whom I am going with.

If I wanted to pay for a fucking rental I would have gone up on my god damn own.

This is my thinking walking down the hill on Chenery, on the way to go get my charge some snacks at the Glen Canyon Market and then go to the park at the rec center.

I almost said it out loud.

And no four-year old needs to hear my profanity.

I was, when I am in resentment it usually stems from fear–I’m not getting what I want or I am afraid I’m going to lose something–full of angry profanity and resentment.

I took a deep breath.

I did not respond on Facebook.

I paused.

I breathed some more.

I swore in my head some more.

Then I just got into, this is what’s happening and this is what is going on and I can accept the situation or I can rant like a maniac.

Do I want to be happy?

Or.

Right.

Right!

Just kidding.

Sigh.

I wish.

No.

I want to be happy.

And if my elderly lady stateswoman wants to rent a mini van, well so be it.

I let a lot of time go and I said some prayers and I did some spot check inventory in my mind and I realized a bunch of stuff.

I have a job to attend to.

I am with my charge and I have to go get my other charge across town.

I am in a pretty park with a sparkling water in my hand, I am outside, the grass is green, the pollinating plants smell intoxicating, the clover especially, and I am alive to have all these feelings.

I have the opportunity to accept what is going on and I prayed for guidance to take the next action in front of me.

So when the text came in from my ride I was able to respond, not react, and take a phone call.

Oh.

I still got flustered on the phone.

I had an idea of what I was going to spend on getting to the damn event and now I was facing having to pay more and I felt a bit in a bind, a bit out of control, like, I don’t have any other way at this time to get myself out there and I have a three-day weekend of school and the rest of the work day to get through.

I can’t fathom trying figure out other means of transport.

I told her I was willing to consider it.

I asked what she wanted by way of compensation.

She gave me, what I considered a vague, cop-out response, but, ultimately, the freedom to decide what I felt comfortable contributing.

I had a number in my head.

I paused for a while after getting off the phone.

I know I can afford it.

I am willing to pay more.

I don’t want to think about it.

I have other things happening before it.

I want to show up alive and present and enjoy every beautiful moment of my weekend.

So.

Whatever vehicle shows up for me on Sunday.

Well.

That’s the one I’m going in.

And whatever the cost.

Well.

That’s what I will be paying.

I’m just surrendering to what’s happening and letting God have it.

God always does in the end anyway.

I get to have this experience.

And like so many others.

I am sure there will be spiritual growth.

And.

Love.

I am certain of that.

There will be love.

There always is.

Almost Got It

June 10, 2017

I thought I was social media dark on my blog last night when I posted.

Except.

Ha.

I was still linked to Twitter.

Figured it out pretty quick, went and deleted off Twitter, and it didn’t link to Facecrack and now, well, I’ve disconnected any sharing on the blog.

It’s just you and me and a couple of friends.

Shhhh.

Part of me want to let out some big scary secret.

But there’s no big scary thing to let out of the bag.

I am a pretty happy lady.

I had today off.

What?

I know.

A Friday.

Off.

My family that I work for is still super sick and I got the message last night after I logged off my blog that they thought it better for me to take off today as well and they’d see me Monday.

I have to say I was sorry for them, but also so grateful, I really don’t know what I would have done had I gotten a severe flu bug.

I hate vomiting.

I mean really bad.

So I’ll happily take my pass and take the day off.

I didn’t sleep in, I got up and went to an early yoga class.

But after that I did take a really mellow day for myself.

I balanced the check book, paid the phone bill, did lots of writing, got in some laundry.

Then I scooted over to Nordstrom Rack and spent a lot of time trying on clothes that didn’t work for me.

I had some high hopes, but the retail therapy was not to be had.

Then again, it wasn’t a total loss, I got a bra, two tank tops, two pairs of panties, some body lotion and some mascara.

It was worth the trip, just to pick up a couple of staples.

Sure.

I had hoped for a new summery dress or maybe a pair of pretty shoes, but fact is, I have bought myself some nice things recently and I don’t really need to do more shopping.

I was looking for something to keep my brain occupied.

It turns out that a woman I have been working with for the past three and a half years is no longer available to work with me and we had a long talk on the phone as I stood by my scooter in the parking lot at Nordstrom Rack.

The blue sky coming through the sky light, the cars parking, the sound of a shopping cart going by and someone who loves me saying, I have loved working with you but it’s time for you to find someone else.

I have never been let go quite like this.

In fact.

I have never been let go.

I have always been the one to find another person to work with.

It was definitely an experience.

Now.

The funny thing is, not funny haha, but interesting, odd, is it odd?

Or God?

I think.

Well.

I believe.

It was God.

As I have prayed a lot over the last week about the relationship.

Something was said to me last week when we met that hurt my feelings deeply and though there was some repair in the moment when she realized how hurt I was, there was still an underlying wounding that I carried with me for days.

I just didn’t know what to make of it.

It came out in my therapy session Tuesday morning.

And.

Well.

Yes.

As a matter of fact.

I bawled my damn eyes out.

Then I worked through it.

Then.

Later that day when I was checking in with someone else.

I got mad.

I mean.

ANGRY.

I was yelling cunt in a church courtyard, so yeah, maybe livid might even be an emotional marker.

I did calm down.

I did write a lot of inventory.

Then I sat on it for a couple of days and really just let myself calm the fuck down.

Thank God for getting to yoga three times in a row this week.

Totally took the edge off.

That praying and writing and more writing and then I did it.

I called, left a message, said what I was feeling and let go of the results.

The results?

I was let go.

And I have no regrets.

Not a one.

I was honest and I know that there was no bitterness in the parting and I’m grateful for the time we got to work together and I’m grateful that I get to have a new experience with another person.

Before it was happening I had felt this dread and sadness and overwhelm, how the fuck am I going to find another person to work with?

I’m too busy.

But.

When it happened.

I knew that it was right.

And I knew that I wasn’t being dropped.

If anything it was God doing for me what I could not do for myself.

I get to have a new experience with a new person and I will get to grow and find out new things and have a new perspective and until that person comes into my life, I’m held by my community and I am not worried.

I am loved.

I am enough.

And I learned a lot.

Some of which I can’t share here as it’s just not my place.

But.

Suffice to say there was deep learning here.

And a deep gratitude for my community and for the people I talked to over the last few days and today and for feeling held and loved and having that love reflected back to me.

I know that I’m still going to have some feelings.

Abandonment.

Not lovable.

Not enough.

Yada, yada, yada.

Victim.

Martyr.

But.

They will pass.

And I will come out the other side stronger and better and more graceful.

Whenever God has “taken” something or someone from me I have been given the gift that he was waiting to put into my hands but I was too busy holding onto something that didn’t work out of some misplaced idea that I could fix it and make it better.

Not realizing God had the solution right in front of me.

My hands are empty.

I am now able to receive.

My heart is ready.

I will walk through this.

I have to.

There is not another choice.

There is only the present.

And all the gifts inherent.

I am loved.

And that is enough.

It always is.

Stars in My Hair

March 2, 2017

And smiles on my face.

Yes.

I got a few more replacement hair geegaws in the mail yesterday.

So yes, that was me with a sequined star in my hair today.

I had a nice hair day, actually, I had a hella good hair day, happens now and again and it was nice to be out and about with it.

I had a special solo date with one of my charges today.

We took buses and trains.

We walked up and down hills.

And we had ice cream.

Well.

She had ice cream, I watched and smiled at her absolute delight in the ice-cream.

We saw dinosaur skeletons and penguins and giraffes and sharks and butterflies.

We went to the California Academy of Sciences today.

We also visited Claude, the albino alligator and we had lunch at the cafe.

It was just the sweetest day and it was with much pleasure that I recalled all the other times I have gotten to go to the Academy and visit it with my charges.

Today was a stellar day especially since it wasn’t a typical day to be at the Academy, there was no school holiday, there were no class field trips, there weren’t even that many tourists.

A few.

But mostly.

Nannies and charges, grandma and grandpa and a stray dad or two.

It was the emptiest I think I have ever seen the facility.

I have been there on a few days when it is horrendous.

Like.

Oh.

The day after Thanksgiving.

Fuck me.

That was intolerable.

Wall to wall.

Lines like no ones business, even the member’s only line was crazy.

My charge was so overwhelmed I think we stayed for all of a half hour.

I think I ended up taking him to a play ground in China Town that was near where I lived at the time in Nob Hill.

Anyway.

Today was smashing as far as there not being a lot of people and it was special to just be with the one little girl.

She and I get a long rather fantastically at this point and she trusts me and that feels good and sometimes I get the angry monkey, but mostly, I get the “I love you Carmen,” lady who will say it out of the blue, when I am least expecting and shine bright my whole entire day.

I also was just feeling beautiful today, light, clear, clean, lightened and getting to hang out with my little girl charge and her giraffe socks, literally, she was wearing yellow giraffe socks with brown spots and little knobby heads, was such a gift.

Today almost felt easy.

I know it won’t all the time, there are challenges, but I just felt good, at ease with myself and I know that has to do with changing how I am little bit by little bit and seeing what I need to see and letting go of what I can.

Tomorrow is another sunny day.

And another after that.

Then the rain again.

But.

I am feeling ok with it all.

The rain will help me get my paper done.

I have a mid-term that I have to write this weekend.

But I realized that I have a bit more free time than I thought and basically have an entire day open on Sunday.

Oh.

I’ll go to yoga, that’s my weekend warrior (pose) deal as of now with not being able to get to yoga during the week, but aside from that I have an empty Sunday.

I’ll crack out the paper and then be done for this next weekend of classes.

I think that is also why I have been feeling good, oh aside from having done all that inventory and moving on from a situation that was not going to be healthy for me to engage in, breaking an old engrained habit, that, I have done so much reading and homework already for the next weekend that I don’t have any reading to do at all this week.

I don’t know that I have a had semester with this much being done.

I have been far more proactive with my reading and papers.

I also, I realized today, haven’t had any male attention distracting me.

I haven’t had a boyfriend or been dating anyone all that much.

Oh.

I have my eye on someone, almost said something tonight, but his friend was so obviously ready to bounce and he wasn’t alone, it was just too awkward.

Hoping I’ll see him Friday and I think I am just going to say something, at least kill the fantasy and clear the path.

Meaning.

Find out if there is something there, I think there is, I’m certainly flirting enough, and if there’s not, if it’s just friends, then to clarify that.

Less to preoccupy my mind.

And hey.

If there is something there.

Well.

Heh.

That would be cool to find out.

Not that I feel any sort of urgency, which is a good thing, it’s just there when I see him.

There’s a little jazz in the air between us.

I like jazz.

Ha.

Life is nice.

You know what, it really is.

Super grateful for it all.

Sunshine.

Stars in my hair.

Little girls in giraffe socks.

Penguins in the water.

Blue morpho butterflies in the air.

Ice cream cones and naps on the train.

A smile on my face.

And a little kiss of music in my heart.

Thanks San Francisco.

It was a super sweet day.

Seriously.

 

Help Me

February 23, 2017

To see what I need to see.

And let go of what I can.

I have had this on a loop in my head all day.

Help me to see what I need to see and to let go of what I can.

I close my eyes.

I open them.

I see leaves scuffling by along the pavement.

I see a tree, tender and green with new growth against the luminescent blue sky.

A man drives by in a delivery van, smiles and waves.

I feel the sun on my face.

It is warm.

Very simple these things.

I don’t have to exert myself so much.

I don’t have to force things or make things happen.

Things have their own damn schedule and time frame.

God’s timing is perfect.

I did a big inventory over the weekend and it is still resonating with me.

I basically inventoried the institution of being single.

Yeah.

I know.

No biggie.

Hahahahahaha.

I told my person I only had one resentment and that it was about myself, as per usual, I’m thinking about myself.

And when I told her it was because I was single she suggested that I look at the inventory differently, that I inventory the institution of being single.

Ooh.

I like that.

I am resentful at the institution of being single because.

I don’t feel like I’m enough.

I am broken.

I feel jealous of other people.

I am less than.

I am lonely.

I have to do everything by myself.

I feel like people are pitying me.

I feel angry.

I feel entitled.

Yeah.

Nothing to unpack there.

Fuck me.

Affects everything about me.

I can see my selfishness really well in holding onto this, so much so, playing the victim, holding on to self-pity, being less than, loads of moral inferiority.

And the funny thing is that when I realized that when I think people pity me, that means I think people are thinking about me.

So not true.

Oh my God.

I am not just all that and a loaf of bread.

I mean.

I’m a pretty decent, kind, loving, human being, but most people are not going around thinking about me and my dating dilemmas.

I mean.

Holy shit.

Selfish much?

God damn.

And of course I’m seeking self-esteem, and more self-pity, it’s a self-pity party, I mean, didn’t you get the invite?  I’m also definitely seeking control, and to be the director.

“Stop exerting yourself more!” She told me, “You’re still a work in progress, God’s timing is perfect.”

Heaving a big sigh of relief at that one.

The dishonesty part was easy for me to see too, that I control my life, ahahahahah, that’s a joke.

And the fear is awful basic–abandonment, never being in a romantic relationship, dying alone, unlovable.

Then she asked me something that I had never even thought about, “where have you been inconsiderate in regards to this resentment?”

Oh.

I’ve been inconsiderate?

Shit.

I have been inconsiderate.

I had my eyes opened in a big way.

Where have I been inconsiderate?

In denying someone my company, my higher power wants me to be happy.

Damn.

I mean.

I never, ever thought of it that way, that I’m denying someone the pleasure of my company.

Fuck.

So this week I have said yes to a dinner party with classmates and a former teaching assistant.

I have said yes to working on a class project with someone in my cohort.

I have a lunch date with my friend and art patron from Burning Man on Sunday in North Beach.

I have said yes to those people who want my company and who have asked for it.

I have not chased after experiences or people who aren’t interested in me.

I said yes to camping at Run Free Camp for Burning Man because the head of the camp asked me to join them this year.

“Go where the love is,” a friend of mine often reminds me.

Yes.

That.

God, please help me to see what I need to see and to let go of what I can.

Help me to stop trying so hard to try so hard.

I felt lighter today, to tell the truth.

Maybe because the rain lifted and the sun came out.

Maybe I just feel things shifting and I am more and more accepting of who and what I am.

That I am not broken, I don’t need fixing, that everything is working out in my favor, that I have done the work and I don’t have to constantly be grinding.

I mean.

That being said, when time does permit, I do need to keep on homework tip.

I did well today.

I finished all my Community Mental Health Reading and I got a good chunk of Couples Therapy kicked through.  I have finished the Trauma reading too and I have the idea for my Trauma reflection paper sketched out in my head, it shouldn’t take more than an hour or so to kick out.

I’ll do it in between doing the deal with a lady and my dentist appointment on Saturday.

Leaving me Saturday evening to have a dinner party with school mates and a weekend where I am not wondering about the drama show, the horror story, the fright that I try to entice myself with, the Carmen show.

“You’re the director, main character, scriptwriter, casting agent, staging crew, lighting, I mean, you are doing it all, just stop exerting yourself so much, stop,” she finished.

I laughed.

I cried.

I let it the fuck go.

Oh.

I may pick up the show again, but for the moment I have stopped trying to revise the script and make it into something other than the awesome reality of my beautiful life.

I am a beautiful creature.

Lovable and worthy of love.

You don’t pity me.

I don’t need to pity me.

God please help me see what you want me to see and to let go of what I can.

Seriously.

I am done.

Over it.

All yours.

Ready to stop being inconsiderate.

So much so.

Today Was A

February 19, 2017

Fuck yeah kind of day.

I was chilled most of the day, but I did look cute.

Although perhaps a little on the shivery side.

I wasn’t expecting to be out all day long and I just never made it back to the house once I was out and about.

I sort of know better, but oh well, that’s all I really have to complain about, I was a little cold today, and now that I am home, a hot mug of tea next to me, the heater turned on and my candles all lit up, oh yes, and some nice Saint Germaine de Pres on the radio cube, yes, I said radio cube, it’s like a trip toy for rave kids candy flipping, but I’ve had it for years and years and it really does work–an old IHome cube.

I have had it forever and it’s been to many a Burning Man.

Not this year though, nothing that I will have to hook up to electricity, I won’t be working the event so very doubtful I will have access to any sort of power hook up like I have in the past.

I digress.

Burning Man was not today, although it did come up in conversation a few times.

I am pretty dorked out that I get to go again.

Anyway.

I did go to things today.

I went to yoga.

I am glad I did, although, yes, I had a moment or two when I didn’t want to and it’s hard to get back on the horse, but I did.

I wasn’t able to go at all last weekend since I was in class all day and it’s hard, I see how fast I can lose the benefits of the practice, but hey, I went, and it was enough.

I am enough.

There it is again.

Hello.

Yes, I repeat, I am enough.

After yoga, a quick hot shower, a yummy hot breakfast and a tasty coconut/almond milk latte.

Living the high life.

Then.

I gratefully accepted the reprieve in the rain, it cleared today, but shall be back the next few days, and I uncovered my scooter and rode it up to 7th and Irving.

I met my person at Tart to Tart and embarked on some inventory.

We did some reading.

I did some writing.

I did some crying.

Damn it.

But.

Such good crying and also a lot of laughing, sometimes seeing how my foibles are impeding my journey just makes me laugh and how I think and how it does not serve.

Oh.

Does my thinking, NOT serve.

So.

I got some amazing perspective and some really good suggestions.

And.

Yes.

That’s right.

I took them.

I ran with them all day.

Guess what?

I had a fucking fabulous day.

FABULOUS.

I went and had a mani/pedi after and got my eyebrows wrangled.

Then I took myself out to lunch at Marnee Thai–duck breast curry with plantains.

Holy Mother of God.

So freaking good.

I did a little shopping after that at Ambiance.

I actually took a friend’s suggestion around self-care.

Well.

Close.

My friend had suggested I go get a massage.

I went to a hot tub instead.

It was bliss.

So good to get a soak and let all the kinks get worked out.

Then a scooter ride over to Turk and Divisadero to hang out with my fellows and do the deal.

I even fucking fellowshipped after and discovered a new place for food that I had not been to in the neighborhood.

Hung out.

Socialized.

Ate hella good food and let my hair down.

I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time and I was able to nip the isolation blues in the bud.

Sometimes a girl gets lonely.

I could have bailed on the fellowship, I had food at the house, but I really craved some company tonight and I am so much the better for just hanging the fuck out with my people.

They are like no other.

Yeah.

I know.

I am biased.

But.

I do know a special and amazing group of people.

They’ve got my back and I’ve got theirs.

I felt a lot more a part of and I want to continue making that effort.

I shared with a friend tonight that it really can be a challenge to navigate doing grad school work and work and recovery and socializing.

I isolate sometimes because I am scared.

But.

Also.

Because, um, yeah, I have hundreds of pages of reading to do and papers to write.

I may not get to the paper I was going to write today.

And I’m just fine with that.

I have time and my time was so much better spent letting myself be of and in the world.

I rather like my San Franciscan world.

Sure.

It’s not the same city it used to be, it’s changed, but then again, so have I.

Change happens.

Change is the only reliable thing that is consistent.

I can try to control things and I am a sucker for routine, but once in a while I need to break out of it, evolve and see what comes of that action.

I may go back to where I was, all up in my head, but i have a solution that works.

I mean.

Fuck.

It works.

I am so grateful for that.

So much so it’s sort of stupid.

Don’t care if I’m a dork about that too.

Something lovely about my gratitude.

Something lovely about not having it all be on my time, my schedule and my way.

God has perfect timing.

Perfect love.

And wants me to be happy.

I can stop trying so hard to make things happen and just let them happen.

I don’t have to watch the horror show in my head.

I’m pretty bored with the characters and the casting is awful, and really it’s over dramatic, fear filled, and unrealistic.

Reality is so much more sexy.

And I certainly had a sexy day today.

Yes.

Yes.

I did.

I Think I Need

October 15, 2016

To write some inventory.

I am mad right now.

I am fucking livid.

I am pissed at the lover who basically bailed and said tomorrow night.

Not cool.

I’m annoyed with Comcast and the pop up window on my computer.

I am tired of work and trying to figure it out.

I can’t.

I am annoyed with the airlines and trying to book a flight and arrange the deal and figure out what makes most sense.

I am fucking livid with God.

FUCK YOU GOD.

REALLY.

I’m just mad.

Mad.

Mad.

I suspect it’s been there for days.

I know it has, when it’s this big and sitting this high in my throat that is, it’s like collateral damage anger, anger that is rooted in super old fears, seeping out from old wounds re-opened.

I can’t quite get it out of my system and really what I want to do is scream.

SCREAM.

Scream and flail and kick and scream some more.

I don’t care for it when I get this angry, it’s hard to navigate through it with any kind of grace.

I am tired of watching the entire fucking world pair up and not I.

I am sick of trying to figure it out.

I am tired of working so hard to work so hard.

I just want to throw it all in the sea.

Not myself, but all the things.

Like.

If I could afford to I’d smash my laptop right now.

l am that fucking pissed.

I am mad at my body.

I am angry beyond words at the violence I have been exposed to and been handed to deal with.

Oh.

I am sure I will grow through the experience.

Fuck you too, “growth.”

I’m tired of that as well.

I can’t actually remember the last time I was this mad.

Oh.

Wait.

Yes.

Haha.

I can.

It was a few years ago.

I did yell out loud too.

Now that I recall it.

I know the anger will pass, it usually does and it is a good indicator of places I need to grow through and I know that the anger usually masks a lot of fear.

I am afraid, once again, that I am broken beyond repair, that no matter how much work I do I will still get stuck.

I am stuck.

I really don’t like being stuck.

This process.

This here.

This writing.

It’s my way of getting unstuck.

The fear that I am not enough is so deep in the grain it can feel like it will overtake me and nothing can save me from the annihilation of myself and my life.

I’m not having ideation, suicidal or otherwise, it’s just the emotions working themselves out and I’ve always been uncomfortable with anger.

I suspect that it’s not all mine either.

Work was really challenging.

A lot of temper tantrums.

Bigger and more intense than I have seen in the past, from both the boys and it’s hard holding my own against them.

I feel like some of the emotion is just from that.

Leaked out on me.

Both the boys had whopper temper tantrums.

I was able to walk through them both, but it took just about everything I had left for the week out of me.

And kapow.

I was kaput.

Then the cancellation tonight, which was fine, really, I realized, oh look, I had expectations.

I expected to get laid after work tonight.

And that poof.

Disappeared.

And then I thought.

Fuck.

I’m supposed to be working through these emotions, I probably need to process out the enormous amount of historical trauma that I was informed about and all the ramifications thereof.

Not to stare at it, but to let it work its way out of my body.

Boy howdy.

Is it working its way out.

I will, of course, do more writing after this.

The big stuff, the inventory.

The fears list, the I’m mad at God list.

And I’ll get to work it out.

Like always.

And it will be fine and then I can get down to the other work.

All the fucking homework.

All of it.

I am not helpless.

And.

Ah.

I am not as angry as when I started this blog.

I feel better just for getting some of the vitriol out via the keyboard.

I will also feel better when I take care of buying my ticket back to Wisconsin for Christmas.

It looks like I’m probably going to catch a red-eye out on the 23rd and get in early the 24th.

I’m going to fly back the 30th.

Which reminds me.

I need to get a hold of the new family and let them know that I set my official end date with my current family at December 23rd.

That I am further going to take that next week off and I’ll be fully available to start on January 2nd.

Get my ducks in a row and not have to be too concerned about it any longer.

I’m thinking about that spiritual axiom, the one about being disturbed, and I know that all these feelings have to do with my idea of how my life should look.

Not how it looks.

Not that it is pretty fucking incredible when I give myself to get out of my myopic world view, because it is.

I am disturbed and therein lies the rub and the relief.

If there is no one else to blame, if it is all about me, well, then, I can fix that.

I have a simple kit of spiritual tools.

I just need to pick them up and use them.

I’ll be making a list and checking it twice.

I promise.

No more angry blog.

Just some writing for other eyes, some tea, and some bed time.

Good night.

Sleep tight.

Don’t let the bed bugs bite.

Those fuckers have gnarly teeth.

Seriously.

 

Well, That Was Fast

July 9, 2016

I’M GOING TO BURNING MAN!!!

Not that I am excited or anything.

So fucking excited, piss my pants excited, burst into tears excited, over the moon excited, can’t believe I actually get to go excited.

“Well, of course you are,” a friend commented on my facecrack page, she never doubts that I will be there, of course I will be there.

“Work or play?” The next question asked.

Holy shit.

PLAY!

I haven’t played in years, almost a decade you could say, although that’s not quite true, since this will be my tenth burn.

I sort of played my first year, but got scooped up into working at the Center Camp Cafe and I worked some pretty gnarly shifts there, picking up extra hours when the man was lit up early and a bunch of people left Cafe to go work on building a new man for the event.

That was my first year.

“You need to set up a Burner Profile,” my friend told me, who’s helping me get the ticket and who’s just a freaking peach and I’m so glad I asked.

I mean.

So fucking glad.

Pride in reverse was something I recognized last night when I was doing some inventory, and also how when it was suggested by a friend that I go anyway, that I go early, that I skip the burn and be back for school early, I poo poo’ed the idea.

Martyr.

I realized that I was willing, capable, and had completely sabotaged myself around going.

The way I wanted to go was not happening, so I’m not going, and I’m going to feel all butt hurt and sad about it, but not say anything and take it like a trooper and be the big girl.

And fuck that shit.

I mean.

Really?

I want to go, I can ask and see about doing it differently.

And when I asked.

It all fell right into place.

Shockingly so.

I got a response on the ticket this morning.

I found a place to camp literally minutes later.

I almost couldn’t bring myself to open the e-mail when I saw my friend had responded, she’s going to say no, it’s not available, it’s not an option, I can’t go, why did I bother…

Wait.

What?

She’s got a ticket!!

I can go.

Fuck.

Now I have to ask off from work again.

My brain wanted to get all on fire about that.

And what about gear?

You don’t have any gear, it chimed in moments later.

Shh.

And a ride!

How the fuck are you getting there and back, especially since you’re going to have to leave Wednesday of the event.

Shut up.

One freaking thing at a time lady.

One thing at a time.

So once I found out I had the ticket, and I’ll be paying and I make a tight scrunch face at having to put out the money, but fuck it, I’m going, so whatever, hello student loans, shh, don’t tell the government.

But seriously?

I’ll be a happier student if I get to roll into my first semester of my second year of grad school having had a few days previous on playa, I’m happy to use my financial aid.

I have a tiny scrap of it left in savings from after my New Orleans trip.

Prudent reserve be damned, get me to the playa.

The next thing I did once I stopped hyperventilating about having gotten a ticket, was to e-mail the family I nanny for and ask, with a bit of humble pie in my ask, but nonetheless, I did it, I asked.

And.

I got a response before I walked into work.

I was locking up my scooter and checking my e-mails and there it was.

A message from the mom:

I don’t see a problem with this.  We will just have more food frozen before maybe so we don’t eat too crappy that week.  We can work this out.
Glad you’re gonna go after all.  Seemed a little wrong for you to miss it.
I cook for the family (holy Toledo I made a lot of food today! Broccoli soup, zucchini noodles, spaghetti and meatballs for the boys, prepped tons of raw veggies and fruit for the weekend, and even roasted up a cauliflower which was devoured upon being taken out of the oven) and if that’s all I got to do to go, cook some extra meals and freeze them up for them, no freaking problem.
My pleasure.
I got totally teary reading the message and had to take a moment to clean myself up and go into work.
Which was a big day and I was just whomped by the end of it and in tears later when I talked to a friend about the day.
I realized I was emotionally overwhelmed with the excitement of getting to go to the event and also a bit over come with the preparations and what and where and when and all the things.
And the end of the week and the boys are rambunctious and I’ve been doing double duty on the stove and I was just walloped.
But I got my groove back.
As evidenced by me sitting here writing this.
I also put up my Burner Profile–MF Poppins–and e-mailed my friend the information she needed to assist in getting the ticket.
I still need a tent.
I probably secured an air mattress tonight.
I have bedding, I just need to hie it over to the Mission and grab my old quilt from a friend who’s been baby sitting it since I moved to Paris, I suppose three years time is about right to recollect.
The other stuff and things will happen.
Mostly.
What I need is a ride there and back.
I’m hoping to get out of town the evening of the 26th and be able to land on playa early on the 27th.
I’ll be working that Friday but free to leave as soon as work ends.
I’ll need to be back the 31st, that Wednesday.
I’ve got tickets to Mike Doughty the evening of the 1st and I have school starting on the 2nd.
I can’t be later than the 1st mid morning/early afternoon.
But I think it’d be better if I got back the 31st or left playa that day, so that I have a chance to wash the dust off me before I go to the concert.
I got the ticket.
I got a place to camp.
I got the time off from work.
I am sure I’ll get a ride there and back.
I might have to go up with someone and come back with another someone.
I’m good company.
Seriously.
And so very happy.
Very.
Very.
Very.
Happy that I get to go.
Over the moon and back times infinity.
Luckiest girl in the world.
Seriously.
Burning Man 2016.
This is happening.

Super Frustrated

June 16, 2016

But not really.

I’m frustrated because I can’t get online, but not because of the things that have been monkeying around my mind for the last week.

Oh thank you Jesus for inventory.

I did a lot today.

I did a lot last night.

I got through the day and by the end of it I was happy and satisfied and grateful and feeling all the love.

There is a solution.

And it has little or nothing to do with my best ideas.

They usually get me in trouble.

Taking the next action in front of me, that works.

I got honest with a lot of people, myself included, and though I have not had the talk with my employers, they were not available to do so today, I know that when another situation arises I have something to say.

I have a sort of script.

I have some work to do.

I am not looking forward to the conversation and I kept expecting that it was going to happen today, as I finally did enough work to see where the real work was at that had to be done, but it did not happen today.

It may not happen tomorrow either.

However.

It will happen.

The next time I am told that I’ll be doing an unsupervised play date I have something to address and I will get to do so.

I will also, and quietly, gently, put it out there that I may be available.

I have no guarantee with the family past the summer.

I have been keeping myself quiet as I keep thinking this is the job for me, may I have it the entire time I’m in school and live happily ever after.

But.

The fact is.

Working a nanny job with two parents that are predominately stay at home parents is a far bigger challenge than I have let on.

I think some of my very close friends know.

However.

For the most part I have kept my thoughts and experiences regarding it to a very small pool of people.

I’m not certain that I’m going to put all my cards on the table here either, however, suffice to say I feel often times that I am in performance form.

I don’t have a lot of alone time or down time or away time.

I’m always on.

“That sounds exhausting,” a friend of mine commiserated with me today.

I laid all the cards on the table with her, not going to do it here, just isn’t the right forum.

Especially since I really like my family and I like so much of my job, the boys especially.

But there is a lot of my job that I don’t like.

And I miss the babies.

I miss all those sweet milestones in the first couple of years, the first words, the first “I love you,” then again.

“Carmen, thank you, I’ll miss you, good night, wait I have to go give my babysitter a hug good night,” my littlest guy said tonight to his play date—double play date two siblings of the same ages as my charges, one little friend for each of them.

He came running over and flung himself at me.

“I love you Carmen, I love you so much,” he clung to me.

He’s been a very sweet, soft, mushy cuddle with me all week.

“I need to love you because we are leaving on a plane and going away,” he said to me yesterday when he tackled me in the kitchen and was anchored to my ankle as I was putting away their lunch detritus.

“But you’ll come back and I’ll be here,” I said, hugging him nonetheless, never pass up the hugs of a child, just don’t.

“But I will miss you,” he said and hugged me harder.

It’s a conundrum.

But not really.

I’ll show up to work tomorrow and I’ll do a good job.

I will close up the house and make sure the boys have fresh sheets and duvets; I’ll collect all the stuffies and put them in their appropriate spots.

I’ll take out all the trash and compost and recycling and set the blinds just so and secure the house and close up shop.

I’m not sure when I’ll be done, technically six p.m.

But I bet I get out of there faster than that.

I am if nothing, extraordinarily efficient.

I get a lot done and I get it done expediently.

I still have a fairly scandalously open scheduled this weekend.

I may or may not go to the MOMA Friday afternoon with a friend.

Or I may just go to yoga and chill out in the neighborhood.

I do know this.

I’m not going to torture myself for not having it all planned out.

Let myself be flexible for my own self.

See what comes up.

Have some fun.

Be spontaneous.

Get laid.

Did I say that?

Heh.

Not that I have a date.

Yet.

All I know is that I feel better tonight than I have all week.

I feel like I finally did the work and the writing and got clarity on all the stupid fear I allow myself to live in, sometimes without even realizing how much stupidity I am in until I’m out of it.

Grateful for my people and doing the deal.

Grateful beyond words.

Really.

Boring almost.

Except to me.

It feels too soothing to be back comfortable in my skin.

And nice.

Oh.

So.

Fucking nice.

To not be quietly seething in shame around things that I have not said.

I have no secrets.

I have things that need to be said, but I’m not keeping anything to myself.

That’s the big thing, all my people know.

I got a spiritual solution for your desperate aim.

Thank fucking God for that.

Summer time fun.

That’s what I got for this weekend.

Sunshine.

Love.

Joy.

Free, free, free.

Happy, happy, happy.

Joy.

Joy.

Joy.

Like that.

Um, I’m Not Available

June 15, 2016

Ugh.

That was uncomfortable.

My boss changed up my schedule.

Again.

It’s been a little rocky, this start to summer, but as I am constantly reminding myself, be flexible.

I am certainly trying.

I even managed to get in a yoga class before work today.

I worked 1-8p.m.

So the mom and dad could go have a dinner date.

I’m down with dinner dates and happy to facilitate.

It does mean feeling a little off kilter since I go back into work and do 10a.m.-6p.m.

But so it goes.

However.

When I was talking with her earlier this afternoon there were things a foot, summer camp scheduling and re-scheduling and adding on another camp for the oldest boy.

And.

Um.

Ha.

I made plans for the weekend.

Like I bought tickets to New Orleans, I ain’t going to be there.

Fuck.

That was uncomfortable.

“Oh!  I hadn’t confirmed that we were doing that,” the mom said.

And she was right.

Fuck I hate when the other person is right.

Don’t you know who I am?

Dang it.

However.

I made the decision, bought the ticket, and was actually hoping to keep it under my hat, because I am still a touch uncomfortable discussing certain aspects of my life with my employers and not everybody gets why it would be super fun to go hang out with a bunch of sober people in another state for a weekend.

“I bought a ticket to go visit friends, thinking that I would have that Friday off,” I told the mom.

“I’m not expecting to be paid for that day, you already made that clear, the Friday was not to be included in my pay for the holiday,” I said, “I made plans to be at the airport for a red eye on Thursday.”

The mom was not happy.

And.

Neither am I.

But.

I bought the ticket, paid for the Air BnB, and I’ve already invested close to $900 in going.

I’m not not going.

I have been really flexible with them and I have taken on extra work and not asked for compensation.

Some times, all the time, fuck me, I have a hard time asking for what I need.

I need to know what my schedule is going to be.

I thought I would be ok with the week to week change up and I think I can be, I believe I can be, but it’s super hard to make life plans and then constantly up end them.

I have ended up re-scheduling and canceling three times on a lady I work with on Tuesdays.

I don’t like doing that and I was thinking I’m going to have to schedule all the ladies I work with to the weekends.

“If you need work, you let me know, I know tons of people,” my dear friend from school mentioned.

And I’m not thinking of changing up jobs, but I do have options, I need to remind myself, and that means also knowing my worth.

I am worth a lot.

I do an amazing job.

I love my charges.

I take good care, I’m smart, I’m high energy, I am a good snuggler.

Heh.

I sound like a personal ad in a newspaper.

Anyway.

It was awkward, but I’ll be taking off that time and I get to work at clearer communication with my employers.

That’s always a sticky point with me.

Like I said, I can be challenged when I have to speak up for myself.

I am the only one responsible for me and I realize that again and again and again, and when I was upset about some work stuff last week, oh did I do some inventory, it really all came down to me.

I was mad at me for not speaking up.

I had been keeping quiet about something and I finally spoke up to my people and I knew that “they” were going to “make me” do something.

“Oh, no, that’s not right, you need to say something,” came one response, “but let me just check in with…..”

And.

From another.

“Did you have the conversation with the mom yet?”

Ugh.

No.

The last few days have been a lot of busy at the house, it’s getting repainted and the scaffolding went up today.

Plus, the family is leaving for a trip on Thursday.

I have not, in fact, had the opportunity to speak about what has been on my mind.

I don’t even want to write about it here.

I feel ashamed.

Hmmm.

How interesting is that?

I don’t like it when I play the victim and I’ve cast myself in the role at work.

I had a play date last week that was not a play date.

It was another charge for the day.

I wasn’t offered compensation and I felt really weird about it.

It’s happened before, play dates where there’s not the parent of the other child or children present, and it is often times easier, on one hand since the monkeys all distract each other.

And.

It is also stressful.

Being responsible for another child.

And the not being compensated doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s really me not asking to be paid for my time that bothers me the most.

If I believe that I am a valuable asset, I have to ask for more.

It may be called a play date, but being saddled with another child for four hours felt like four hours of extra work.

I’m not comfortable writing about it.

I feel tender and stupid and taken advantage of, by myself.

I do have some compassion for myself too, I know why I do stuff like this, I get afraid to speak up, fear of confrontation, fear of, yes, I know it’s stupid, but, fear of getting fired, which always leads me down this fat rabbit hole of losing my job, losing my home, and being a homeless woman sleeping in the bushes.

Thank God for inventory and other people’s perspective.

Also.

That I am a total fucking people pleaser and if the people I work with tell me to do something I do it.

Which sounds like I don’t have free will.

No.

Actually I don’t.

I have a disease that wants me dead and the solution is to not listen to my self-pity and fear.

That’s the way of death.

I know.

Dramatic.

Right?

Anyway.

That’s how it works these days, I don’t want to use or pick up, but sometimes I just want to self-sabotage what ever I am doing and all it means is that here, again, is something to work on and to grow around.

Pain.

“They” say.

Is the touchstone to all spiritual growth.

Guess I’m having a growth spurt.

Seriously.


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