Posts Tagged ‘spiritual axiom’

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.

 

I Am The Problem

August 18, 2015

And I am the solution.

I am also not nearly as mad as I was when I had the conversation tonight at the dinner table with the family I work for regarding my time off for Burning Man.

Oh.

Yeah.

I got the extra two days off and they are unpaid and that is just cool.

I am really excited to get to go up earlier than I was expecting and the excitement for going is palbable.

Oh.

And.

I’m not getting paid.

I was taken aback and had to take a moment before asking what the mom was talking about.  I said I was confused I had asked off the time way in advance, I thought that last week with the retreat and then the week of Burning Man were my holiday requested vacation paid time off and huh?

What do you mean I’m not getting paid?

Oh.  I see.  You and I weren’t in agreement about my sick days.

I thought that days I had taken off for some travel, to see my Grandmother in San Diego, for some appointments, interview at the graduate school program, etc.  I had thought I was taking sick days.

Apparently not.

Apparently the contract was not in regards to PTO, paid time off, but strictly negated to sick time, like you’re sick, you call in and you get paid.

Oh, so you mean, the time I was sick and came into work and fucking slogged through it because I was banking those sick days toward my Burning Man and graduate school retreat, I should have just fucking called in sick?

God damn it.

I have wondered more than once about calling in sick the entire time I’m at Burning Man.

Hey.  Sorry, I’m sick.  Yeah, it’s uh, been really dusty in my house and I’m experiencing some altitude sickness and mild euphoria, mind if I take the day off?

I mean fuck.

And I created this.  I did this.  I did it and I can see it and I am in a forgiveness place with myself that I was not in a few hours ago.

But it still sucks.

And.

I don’t give a fuck.

I’m still going.

I took an honest look at wanting to do the experience and doing it in the way that I am doing it with the people who I am doing it with and how I want to be with this group, I love them, they mean the world to me, they are a community and family I don’t have elsewhere and the fact that I am getting a ticket (in exchange for services rendered) and the transportation to and from and the camp infrastructure is set up and I don’t have to think about it, plus early arrival pass, well, fuck I’m suppose to go and be there.

I am so tired of living in a self-imposed model of I can’t have the experience unless I am getting paid and working my ass off to be there.

It obviously stopped working for me last year.

That was a shit show.

But.

I was supposed to have the experience, I really was, I see that now, I see that it gave me the impetus to get out of a job that wasn’t working for me, to a job that has worked pretty well for me most of the time.

Even now.

As I said, I’m not mad at the mom for what she said, it feels uncomfortable, but she was clear and direct and had obviously a opinon about it and it was said and I am so glad I didn’t react.  I paused, I responded, I sought clarification.

Oh!

Hahahahaha.

The god damn T-Group model worked!

Too fucking funny.

I also hereby acknowledge, which I did this morning in my morning pages, that my current family may not be the best situation for me to stay in while in graduate school.

It may well work for me to go back to getting paid under the table, I’ll make more and work less, and also, go back to working with babies, who nap.  So that I can accomplish more reading in my work environment.  I did manage to read for 45 minutes of my break today and I was hella happy about that, but there won’t be breaks moving forward with my current family.

I’m going down to part-time and wouldn’t start work until 2:30p.m. when the boys get done with school

Yes, I would have time to read before work, but working fewer hours to support myself is not going to work unless I get paid a lot more.

And yes.

I do deserve a raise from the family, it is time, it’s been almost a year and being the best they’ve ever had out of five previous nannies means something.  It means, you want to keep me on your employ you pay my worth.

And that was also lovely for me to see.

My worth.

I know what my worth is.

So moving forward I will probably toss a soft ball out to the Universe–find another job?

Stick with the current one?

Make more money has to happen no matter what.

My goal is to work and sustain my standard of living while in graduate school, that means making more money and working less.

It doesn’t have to be a lot less, but it will have to be a little less.

I know the solution, I know how to communicate, I know my needs, I have a lot of data.

So, moving forward.

Perhaps with a little less money than I thought I would have for this month, but whatever.

I am supposed to be there, I know it in my bones and I am supposed to be at CIIS for graduate school and I am supposed to be a strong recovered woman in my community and I am supposed to be in San Francisco.

What does it take to be those things?

I have the solution, it’s spiritual, and I can apply it to the problem.

Myself.

There is a spiritual axiom that whenever I am disturbed with a person, place, or thing, I am the one with the problem.

And I believe that.

My job is not the problem.

How I communicated my needs in my job is the problem.

I can choose to harbor a needless, selfish, self-seeking resentment, or I can communicate what I need.

And if the job can’t fulfill those needs.

Well, hello.

I have seen it demonstrated over and over and over these last 10 1/2 years, I am completely taken care of and I am alright.

I always have been.

I always will.

As long as I maintain a few simple things.

Nothings wrong.

I’m going to Burning Man!

And.

I might be available for a new job and a new experience.

Just saying.

It Is A Spiritual Axiom

May 25, 2015

So “they” say.

That whenever I am disturbed by any person, place, or thing, I am at fault.

Well fuck me.

There it is.

Who here has heard of the “no response response?”

Raise your hands.

Um yeah.

I got it.

I called.

I left you a message.

You don’t call back.

That means no.

But I mean.

Uh.

Wait.

FUCK.

I want something out of this, I want a result, I want a response, I want, I want.

I want to shut the fuck up about it.

I want to move on.

And with that.

Yes.

I pulled a hair geographic today.

Hot Hot Pink

Hot Hot Pink

I mean.

If I can’t beat them, join them.

Or whatever the hell that means.

I am ok with not getting a response.

In fact, last night as I was masturbating.

Oh yeah.

It’s going to be one of those blogs, if you’re related to me, you can just stop reading it right now.

No holds bar.

This is a “I should probably,” but won’t at all “regret,” blog post.

While I was taking care of self, proper self-care like and having a great time with it, I realized.

Oh.

Well, there you go.

I’m not fantasizing at all about the ex.

Despite having given over to him, or perhaps to the fantasy of him, the majority of my brain space yesterday after I called and left a message about getting together to have coffee, I was not in fact, fantasizing about him at all.

Oh.

Wouldn’t you like to know.

Suffice to say, it was not my ex.

And it was good.

Mmmm hmmm.

Then I slept like a baby.

Slept so well, I slept until 10:37 a.m.

I can not remember the last time I slept past 10:30 a.m., let alone 9:30 a.m., even on my weekends I tend to be up by 8:30 a.m. at the latest.

Look at me.

Sleeping in.

Yes.

I had a late and leisurely breakfast and even skipped doing the normal load of Sunday morning laundry I typically do (although, I will admit, I couldn’t put it off all day and did in fact, do a load, it’s in the dryer now) and the house cleaning.

Sometimes a girl just has to really take the whole damn day off.

No cooking.

No grocery shopping.

Well, light cooking, oatmeal with apple and blueberries and a hard-boiled egg for breakfast, lots of lovely Ritual pour over coffee, and lunch as well as dinner was homemade “fried” brown rice from the leftover vegetable stir fry I made yesterday with scrambled egg and avocado and tomatillos (note to self, tomatillos are hella good!  I never have cooked with them before, they added a nice flavor to the rice).

I did meet with two ladies and do some reading and writing and sharing of the stuff.

Then nada.

I had my lunch, put on some jazz, Miles Davis, Relaxin’ With The Miles Davis Quartet, drank some tea and read my book on the chaise lounge for two hours.

I had plans.

I was going to go out and do stuff and things.

But the fog was heavy and the air chilly and I just wanted to curl up and stay where I was.

Sometimes, though, I have to go somewhere.

So I went to pink, I mean, really pink.

I picked up some Manic Panic at the salon yesterday when I went to get my nails done, just because I wanted to try one last color in the trio of pinks that I have been recently experimenting with.

Each of which, note to self, must get myself to an event with black light soon, glow in the dark.

Seriously.

My hair will glow in the dark, under black light.

Get thee to a night club lady.

Not that I have any plans to go hit the club circuit this weekend.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (the SOMA) I would have been rejoicing at a three-day weekend, I would have been at least three bags deep into it and looking to score more and be at the door at the End Up ready to make the most of the holiday weekend.

Not so much now.

And I find this much better.

In case you were wondering.

Anyway.

I went radically pink.

It is startling, fun, eye-catching, I won’t be missed.

“You are not easy to miss,” he told me, “even if I didn’t say anything, I knew when you showed up, where you were, I would sit and stare from a far.”

Oh lovey.

I don’t want to be stared at though.

I want to engage and I did have a moment of thinking, am I self-sabotaging, going this crazy hair color?

And then.

NO!

I am fucking having fun and to top it off I threw on a little pink glitter to make me feel better.

I don’t dress for a man, or to get a man, or to have a man, or get asked out on a date.

Nope.

I dress for myself.

I love that.

Being authentically myself is one of the best things I have discovered about living my life with a clear head.

Oh.

I’m sure I’ll change my mind at some point.

But right now.

I’m in the pink.

And I’m not mad at him.

I got, suddenly, how hard this has to be for him too.

I was reminded of the few times during the 90 days, twice, when he reached out via text and I did not respond.

Now I know how it feels.

Sucks.

But it won’t kill me and as I was more than happy to supplant the fantasy in my head with a fantasy of another, I knew in my underneath all that pink hair, my brain was slowly coming to terms with my heart.

And I could walk away and not text and not call back and move on.

Frothy, pink, emotional appeals seldom suffice.

I choose today to act like a woman.

To not just talk the talk, but to walk the walk.

Which meant today, hopping on my bicycle in the gloom and getting out of dodge, my brain, for a little while and riding out to Saint Gabriel’s up on Ulloa and 41st for an hour.

Where I was reminded of the spiritual axiom and laughed out loud when it was mentioned.

Then I blushed as pink as my hair.

But I got the message.

Sometimes it just takes a day to sink in.

From my head to my heart.

By way of a small hair color geographic.

Tickled pink to be back home.

Happy and free.

In my own self once more.

Third Time’s The Charm

July 12, 2013

And I am the asshole.

I knew it.

I was going to get myself in trouble, so I actually decided to take a break from riding home on my bicycle and deposit the paycheck I had gotten for this week’s nannying.

I was the asshole.

I am the asshole.

It is a spiritual axiom that anytime I yell at three people in a row, I’m the asshole.

Ok, well, maybe it’s not a spiritual axiom, but I know when I am off the beam.

I was off the beam.

I can normally handle the spate of International between 7th and 12th pretty well, it’s actually a decent patch of road, there’s a little park, there’s a community, there’s a lot of decent smelling restaurants, tons of Vietnamese food, and there’s a lot of folks that just don’t use their turn signals.

I got pulled out in front of three times in those blocks and I just about lost it.

I knew I was losing it and I also knew why.

I was hungry.

Yeah, that stupid shit, hungry, angry, lonely, tired?

It’s so damn true.

I was hungry and getting angry and lonely, you betcha.

All by myself all day long in my head ruminating on how I am going to ask for a raise and also knowing that when I am uber fixated on something that it is not the solution and that I need to pause.

I got pissed at the family that does the nanny share with my normal family.

They really haven’t been much for the share and they really bug the fuck out of me.

And I really needed to see my part.

Which I just did and I did some writing and I did some reaching out and I also did some getting off the road and seeing that there’s nothing wrong, anywhere, anyhow.

When I get freaked out about money I get freaked out in general and then I become a bitch.

To myself mostly, why don’t you ask for what you need, what’s your problem, I need to advocate for myself and I did check in with a friend yesterday who basically said the same thing, you’re being underpaid.

Ask for more.

John Ater said the same thing, “you’re selling yourself short.”

I did some research, really unneccessary research, I already know that I am under market value, but then, that’s always what I do, I undervalue myself and my experiences.

I have been saying it’s not a big deal because I don’t have a lot of costs at the moment.

But that doesn’t matter and I certainly am under no obligation to work on the cheap because my overhead is low.

It won’t be for long, not with an imminent move back to San Francisco.

I just have to walk through this and maybe say, “hey, you know what, I don’t want to do a nanny share with the other family, it’s not worth my time and it’s not worth it to me financially, I have had three?  Four? Interactions with them and they are not bad people, I just don’t want to work with them.

I can’t quite pin it, but I am not comfortable with the way they have engaged with me, or not engaged with me, as the case may be.

I am also obessesed with convincing the parents of the three other families I do like working for that I am worth a raise.

I already figured out what I need to ask for.

I just have to pause though, and clear the air, and clear my head.

Which is why the writing is good, turning toward someone else, seeing where else I can be of service, and I just had an idea of who I need to call.

I am going to pause and actually do that right now.

There, just offered up some service, that feels better.

I also ordered, finally, after looking at the damn thing for the last month, a new bicycle seat for my Burning Man bicycle.

Three weeks on playa, I am going to need a comfortable saddle, I am going to be doing a lot of riding, especially since I won’t be staying where I have stayed the last few burns.

Wow.

This is going to be burn number seven for me.

Seven.

In addition to the bike seat I also got a basket for the handle bars and a pennant flag for the back bracket–makes it easier to see where I parked it.

I got everything I need now.

Well, I will probably need to stock up on baby wipes.

I usually do.

I am planning on doing some organizing this weekend of my Burning Man stuffs.

Just pull out the bins and make sure they are tidy.

Not that they’re not, I am a tidy person, but just see what there is there and see what I may need to supplement.  I don’t believe I have to do anything, other than the aforementioned baby wipes and some bedding.

I have a sleeping bag, but I ditched my pillows last year, they got gross, candle wax got spilled on them and they were tossed.

Other than that, I am realizing I have a fairly free weekend.

I have to do some grocery shopping, down to my last nibbles, unless I want to subsist on oatmeal for the next couple of days.

Not that I do.

Ah, and look at that, no one’s an asshole anymore.

I got fed, got hydrated, did some writing, let go the results, said yes to a speaking engagement, and confirmed my day for the morrow.

The nanny stuff will work out, without me obsessing, and my bike parts are on order and will come in before I leave for playa.

Problems?

What problems?

 


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