One deadline project finished -- 2 days early to boot and another halfway done and at least a couple more days still left to finish it and I finally feel as though I can relax.
I am a total enigma. I totally stress out when things get down to the wire, but also, I work best under pressure. Nothing like a looming deadline to fortify my focus and concentration. I could tune out a heavy metal rock concert taking place in the parking lot, if I really truly need to get something done immediately.
So, more often than not, I put things off until the last possible minute and then roll up my sleeves, curse my procrastination, and dig in.
Until the day I finish, I wake up each morning, worrying about the day ahead and whether or not I'll get all my shit done.
I always do, (get my shit done) and even as I worry, I know I will get it done because I have to, I have no choice, but still. Until the day its completed, fear and anxiety hover over me constantly.
Upon waking each morning, I am momentarily paralyzed with fear, staring at the numbers on my alarm clock and berating myself for being such a procrastinator and considering the possibility of "what if I don't get it done on time this time?"
But then, sensibility and a sense of necessity, spurs me on and out of bed, and I begin my workday with a renewed sense of purpose, diverting the crux of my time and energies that day to getting things done.
And today, I finished. Early. And all is right with the world again. I've even allowed a friend to convince me to take a few hours off this afternoon to go play golf.
As I hung up the phone, the angel on my shoulder is saying I should stay disciplined, call her back and cancel and immediately start in on the other deadline project. Why put myself through all the stress that comes with procrastination and looming deadlines when I can so easily avoid it?
The procrastinating devil on my other shoulder says not to worry, I have plenty of time and can come in early or work late tomorrow if I need to, to get the other project done. And besides, in the end, I always do come through and get things done right and on time, despite the stress and fear and berating.
So, who won?
My tee time is in 35 minutes!!
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
A Shorts Story
While I don't consider myself materialistic, I do sometimes become attached to the most mundane physical objects and have a hard time letting go.
Case in point, Teddy, a large stuffed yellow and brown bear that I didn't let out of my sight for the first 7 years of my life. Then, one day, somehow he got relegated to the attic. Forgotten and unmissed. Many years later, when I was in high school, I came across Teddy while helping Mom look for some curtains.
Seeing him there, all alone in the dark attic, and remembering how he had once been such an integral part of my life, I scooped him up, dusted him off and brought him back down to my bedroom. Granted, he stayed pretty much cooped up in the back corner of my room, but every once in awhile I'd catch sight of him and remember all those nights as a kid feeling so much more secure in my bed because Teddy was there. And I felt better knowing he wasn't wasting away in the attic all alone.
As I grew, so did my random physical attachments. At different points I have had attachments to a pair of PJs, shoes (I was totally depressed the day I had to throw my favorite black leather pumps away), a small ceramic pony that for some reason I just love and still have on my nightstand to this day, picture frames, cassette tapes, a blue vase, earrings -- you get the picture.
Well, last nite, I had to say goodbye to another of my favorite things.
My white denim shorts, which I've had for so long I don't even know how old they really are, finally died. Literally died.
As I eased into them one more time, the zipper broke. I actually did consider having a new one put in for a few minutes, but looking at them, how the seams were tattering, the denim was worn thin in places, I realized the time had come to let go.
But it was hard, unbelieveably, ridiculously, absurdly, laughably hard.
Over the years I had worn them year-round -- with tanks and tees in the summer and sweatshirts and henleys in the fall and winter. They were a lightweight denim, broken in, always comfy, and always fit despite my weight gains and monthly bloating.
AND, most importantly, they were always flattering. I wore them out with friends, around the house, washing the car. I wore them ALL THE TIME.
But no more. Last nite, I took them off for the last time, and tossed them into the trash. Just like I did with those beloved black pumps a few years ago.
I miss them already, and know I'll never find a pair exactly like them.
Their demise means one less of my favorite things lying around the house. Not to mention one less pair of flattering shorts in my wardrobe.
But luckily, while some things have to be let go, others do survive.
At least I can take comfort in the fact that Teddy is still alive and kicking. Even after all these years, he still sits in my old bedroom at my parents house, forever smiling from his place in the corner and being entertained occasionally by my two rambunctious nieces who still find joy in the arms of a big yellow and brown teddy bear.
And I threaten my father with a fate worse than death any time he jokingly suggests giving, or throwing, him away.
Case in point, Teddy, a large stuffed yellow and brown bear that I didn't let out of my sight for the first 7 years of my life. Then, one day, somehow he got relegated to the attic. Forgotten and unmissed. Many years later, when I was in high school, I came across Teddy while helping Mom look for some curtains.
Seeing him there, all alone in the dark attic, and remembering how he had once been such an integral part of my life, I scooped him up, dusted him off and brought him back down to my bedroom. Granted, he stayed pretty much cooped up in the back corner of my room, but every once in awhile I'd catch sight of him and remember all those nights as a kid feeling so much more secure in my bed because Teddy was there. And I felt better knowing he wasn't wasting away in the attic all alone.
As I grew, so did my random physical attachments. At different points I have had attachments to a pair of PJs, shoes (I was totally depressed the day I had to throw my favorite black leather pumps away), a small ceramic pony that for some reason I just love and still have on my nightstand to this day, picture frames, cassette tapes, a blue vase, earrings -- you get the picture.
Well, last nite, I had to say goodbye to another of my favorite things.
My white denim shorts, which I've had for so long I don't even know how old they really are, finally died. Literally died.
As I eased into them one more time, the zipper broke. I actually did consider having a new one put in for a few minutes, but looking at them, how the seams were tattering, the denim was worn thin in places, I realized the time had come to let go.
But it was hard, unbelieveably, ridiculously, absurdly, laughably hard.
Over the years I had worn them year-round -- with tanks and tees in the summer and sweatshirts and henleys in the fall and winter. They were a lightweight denim, broken in, always comfy, and always fit despite my weight gains and monthly bloating.
AND, most importantly, they were always flattering. I wore them out with friends, around the house, washing the car. I wore them ALL THE TIME.
But no more. Last nite, I took them off for the last time, and tossed them into the trash. Just like I did with those beloved black pumps a few years ago.
I miss them already, and know I'll never find a pair exactly like them.
Their demise means one less of my favorite things lying around the house. Not to mention one less pair of flattering shorts in my wardrobe.
But luckily, while some things have to be let go, others do survive.
At least I can take comfort in the fact that Teddy is still alive and kicking. Even after all these years, he still sits in my old bedroom at my parents house, forever smiling from his place in the corner and being entertained occasionally by my two rambunctious nieces who still find joy in the arms of a big yellow and brown teddy bear.
And I threaten my father with a fate worse than death any time he jokingly suggests giving, or throwing, him away.
Monday, July 25, 2005
My life has taken a sudden turn for the worse. Well, at least my professional life.
I've not written too much about work because I don't want it to totally overshadow my life, as work can sometimes do. But the past couple of weeks have been very hard indeed.
My job is to oversee a multi-tiered agency, and as anyone who has worked with bureaucrats and governments, and of course, their egos, knows what a political minefield that can be. So it goes with my job.
Lately, things have been heating up and recently, and, without going into too much detail, I've become completely and thoroughly frustrated and disgusted with the political landscape.
Truthfully, I haven't liked working where I work almost since day one. But the weird thing was -- I LOVED the work itself and the industry and my colleagues and the fact that I knew I was accomplishing things; all this despite all the horrible political undertones and landmines. So I was able and willing to overlook the annoyances and challenges that regularly came my way.
But lately, the politics have begun to overshadow the positives, as have personal vendettas and agendas, and I know the only thing I can do to preserve my sanity and my health is to walk away.
Last week, there were a few things that essentially, sealed my fate for me. A run-in with a higher-up that resulted in lines being drawn in the sand, and basically the refusal of other higher-ups, who refuse to provide me the necessary backing to do my job the way it should be done. For some reason, the majority are letting the will of the few rule and I've decided its fruitless to try to stop them or fight them, or continue to keep putting my head on the chopping block in an effort to do things right, when no one will join me or support me.
Now, some would say, "well then, why not just go with the flow, and take the path of least resistance"
My response is: I can't. I'm a helpless underdog who believes in honesty and integrity and in doing things the right way. No matter how hard, or how much of an uphill battle.
So now, I've determined that I'm done. D-O-N-E, DONE! White flag thrown, spirit broken and any hint of fire or spunk completely snuffed out.
I now, officially, thoroughly hate my job. I hate the few conspirators who are behind the incidents that have brought me to this place of hating my job, and I am on the job hunt with a vengeance.
Resume dusted off and posted online and a renewed sense of urgency in checking the classifieds each morning. I'm also getting the word out to trusted friends and professional acquaintances that I'm looking and what I'm looking for.
This weekend was tough. In my head, I kept going over each different scenario where I could get myself to a place where I wanted to stay -- but none of them worked. I thought of just up and quitting, but a review of my finances proved that impossible right now. I tried to envision how maybe I could meet with the enemy and get to some common ground -- but I know that that wouldn't work either.
No, I have to leave. And the sooner the better. But I can't do it until I have something else to fall back on. That much is certain.
A friend of mine suggests just riding it out and trying not to take things personally. Well, its not personal really. In my opionion, its blatant disregard and disrespect for the right way of doing things and, also, I am being treated more like an intern that can be disregarded, ignored, or worked around, rather than the professional in charge -- which is, after all, what I'm paid to be.
I usually handle stress fairly well. Not this weekend. I had headaches, knots in my stomach, trouble falling asleep and high blood pressure. I once had borderline high blood pressure, and so have one of those handy home monitors. At one point, my reading was 160/90. That is just insane.
Thankfully, an hour later, it was back down to a more acceptable level, but still.
As a good friend of mine put it -- "no job is worth your health."
And she's right. I'm just hoping that fate smiles upon me in the very near future and that I find a better, more enjoyable and yes, even better paying job than the one I have now.
I need a change and it can't come soon enough.
I've not written too much about work because I don't want it to totally overshadow my life, as work can sometimes do. But the past couple of weeks have been very hard indeed.
My job is to oversee a multi-tiered agency, and as anyone who has worked with bureaucrats and governments, and of course, their egos, knows what a political minefield that can be. So it goes with my job.
Lately, things have been heating up and recently, and, without going into too much detail, I've become completely and thoroughly frustrated and disgusted with the political landscape.
Truthfully, I haven't liked working where I work almost since day one. But the weird thing was -- I LOVED the work itself and the industry and my colleagues and the fact that I knew I was accomplishing things; all this despite all the horrible political undertones and landmines. So I was able and willing to overlook the annoyances and challenges that regularly came my way.
But lately, the politics have begun to overshadow the positives, as have personal vendettas and agendas, and I know the only thing I can do to preserve my sanity and my health is to walk away.
Last week, there were a few things that essentially, sealed my fate for me. A run-in with a higher-up that resulted in lines being drawn in the sand, and basically the refusal of other higher-ups, who refuse to provide me the necessary backing to do my job the way it should be done. For some reason, the majority are letting the will of the few rule and I've decided its fruitless to try to stop them or fight them, or continue to keep putting my head on the chopping block in an effort to do things right, when no one will join me or support me.
Now, some would say, "well then, why not just go with the flow, and take the path of least resistance"
My response is: I can't. I'm a helpless underdog who believes in honesty and integrity and in doing things the right way. No matter how hard, or how much of an uphill battle.
So now, I've determined that I'm done. D-O-N-E, DONE! White flag thrown, spirit broken and any hint of fire or spunk completely snuffed out.
I now, officially, thoroughly hate my job. I hate the few conspirators who are behind the incidents that have brought me to this place of hating my job, and I am on the job hunt with a vengeance.
Resume dusted off and posted online and a renewed sense of urgency in checking the classifieds each morning. I'm also getting the word out to trusted friends and professional acquaintances that I'm looking and what I'm looking for.
This weekend was tough. In my head, I kept going over each different scenario where I could get myself to a place where I wanted to stay -- but none of them worked. I thought of just up and quitting, but a review of my finances proved that impossible right now. I tried to envision how maybe I could meet with the enemy and get to some common ground -- but I know that that wouldn't work either.
No, I have to leave. And the sooner the better. But I can't do it until I have something else to fall back on. That much is certain.
A friend of mine suggests just riding it out and trying not to take things personally. Well, its not personal really. In my opionion, its blatant disregard and disrespect for the right way of doing things and, also, I am being treated more like an intern that can be disregarded, ignored, or worked around, rather than the professional in charge -- which is, after all, what I'm paid to be.
I usually handle stress fairly well. Not this weekend. I had headaches, knots in my stomach, trouble falling asleep and high blood pressure. I once had borderline high blood pressure, and so have one of those handy home monitors. At one point, my reading was 160/90. That is just insane.
Thankfully, an hour later, it was back down to a more acceptable level, but still.
As a good friend of mine put it -- "no job is worth your health."
And she's right. I'm just hoping that fate smiles upon me in the very near future and that I find a better, more enjoyable and yes, even better paying job than the one I have now.
I need a change and it can't come soon enough.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
I Want, But Can't Have
There are days, where I dream big.
While I am far from being deprived -- I have lots to be thankful for -- I own a house; drive a nice car; good friends; eat out frequently; loving, albeit sometimes annoying, family and some nice toys (new TV, cell phone, great CD and book collection; nice stereo, newer living room furniture) all of that -- there are times where that truly American sense of "hafta have" sinks its claws into me and brings out a longing for all those things that beckon from store shelves, television commercials and just seeing other people having them.
I feel like a kid in a department store being dragged through the aisles by a parent, pointing at things at whining, "But I want one, boo hoo hooo. Pleeeese?!.
Things I want:
an iPod
a new computer with a flat screen, where you can't hear the gears grinding as you log on or download a new program
a new desk for new computer
new carpeting in my downstairs
a set of golf clubs for my newfound joy of golfing (see post below)
piano lessons, and as a result, a piano or at the very least a keyboard. (See, I've wanted to take piano lessons for a very long time now, but either didn't have the time or the money or both.
a good quality mountain bike, as my $70 Sears special died a year ago and hasn't been replaced yet
a week long vacation at a beach resort
a convertible
a gainfully employed, nice looking, man in my age bracket with little to no baggage who doesn't still live with his parents
Okay, there's probably more if I gave it some serious thought, but then I'd just sound selfish and materialistic. hehehehe
Thing is, except for the convertible and beach resort vacation, the other things are not very impractical or unnecessary.
My problem -- lack of funds. (Well except for the man. Can't buy one of them at Macy's. Not sure what the problem is there. Maybe my requirements) Since buying the house, I've had to live on a budget.
Granted I'm more flexible with it at times then I should be, but I'm practical and disciplined enough to know that I need to keep my spending in line, and certain things, like iPods and new computers -- are just going to have to wait, so that I can continue to pay for necessary things -- like the mortgage and taxes and utilities and food.
And in retrospect, I think its better to want things. How boring if we always had whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted it. What would there be to look forward to? And besides, Chrismas is only a few months away! ;-)
But damn, I really do want an iPod now!
While I am far from being deprived -- I have lots to be thankful for -- I own a house; drive a nice car; good friends; eat out frequently; loving, albeit sometimes annoying, family and some nice toys (new TV, cell phone, great CD and book collection; nice stereo, newer living room furniture) all of that -- there are times where that truly American sense of "hafta have" sinks its claws into me and brings out a longing for all those things that beckon from store shelves, television commercials and just seeing other people having them.
I feel like a kid in a department store being dragged through the aisles by a parent, pointing at things at whining, "But I want one, boo hoo hooo. Pleeeese?!.
Things I want:
an iPod
a new computer with a flat screen, where you can't hear the gears grinding as you log on or download a new program
a new desk for new computer
new carpeting in my downstairs
a set of golf clubs for my newfound joy of golfing (see post below)
piano lessons, and as a result, a piano or at the very least a keyboard. (See, I've wanted to take piano lessons for a very long time now, but either didn't have the time or the money or both.
a good quality mountain bike, as my $70 Sears special died a year ago and hasn't been replaced yet
a week long vacation at a beach resort
a convertible
a gainfully employed, nice looking, man in my age bracket with little to no baggage who doesn't still live with his parents
Okay, there's probably more if I gave it some serious thought, but then I'd just sound selfish and materialistic. hehehehe
Thing is, except for the convertible and beach resort vacation, the other things are not very impractical or unnecessary.
My problem -- lack of funds. (Well except for the man. Can't buy one of them at Macy's. Not sure what the problem is there. Maybe my requirements) Since buying the house, I've had to live on a budget.
Granted I'm more flexible with it at times then I should be, but I'm practical and disciplined enough to know that I need to keep my spending in line, and certain things, like iPods and new computers -- are just going to have to wait, so that I can continue to pay for necessary things -- like the mortgage and taxes and utilities and food.
And in retrospect, I think its better to want things. How boring if we always had whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted it. What would there be to look forward to? And besides, Chrismas is only a few months away! ;-)
But damn, I really do want an iPod now!
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Why the Funk?
I'm in a funk today.
Actually, I've been in one since yesterday.
Maybe its the ungodly heat. Maybe its PMS. Maybe its the sheer boredom and frustration I've been feeling lately with my job and my life. Perhaps a combination of all of the above.
I don't know. But I know I don't like it.
One minute, I'll be fine, and then totally lose focus and interest in the task at hand. I've been going home from work, turning on the AC and pretty much just vegging. So maybe it is the heat.
Last week, had been great. I was busy, had energy, got to the gym 3 times and went golfing for the first time ever and loved it.
Funny, I'd always made fun of golfers. "What could anyone possibly find enjoyable about trying to hit a small white ball into a small, faroff hole?" I'd laugh.
I now know the mystique. Its challenging and you're outside in the sunshine and it feels great when you whack that ball and on your first stroke actually get it ONTO the green. I even did a few little up and down jumps after a few good shots. But most importantly, everyone I know who golfs follows it with beers and bar food afterward. Which is, I think, the real reason most stick with the game.
But I digress. After a week of fun, I now find myself at the opposite end of the spectrum. Could be that this is my Hell Week with meetings and reports and all kinds of pressing, yet totally mind-numbing crap due. Not to mention a ton of upper management level politics and power plays and crap that are going on, with me having to play referee and I haven't had a day off in 9 days.
Yep, I worked the weekend -- 10 hour days, thankyouverymuch -- and won't be able to take a day off until at least this Friday. And probably not even then because of all the deadline stuff that I have to get done.
Yet here I sit blogging instead of working and not even caring because today had to be one of the worst days on this job yet. And I"m not gonna rehash because its just not worth it.
Thing is, its now going for 6:30 p.m. and I don't really know what I want to do or where I want to go. I don't feel like staying at work because I know I won't accomplish anything, yet don't feel like going home either. Just have this weird sort of limbo feeling. And can't shake it.
Like last nite -- I coulda, shoulda done a dozen different things -- laundry, cleaning, writing, shopping (need groceries), the gym, but instead, flopped on the couch and watched mindless TV and ate hot dogs for dinner.
Granted, I didn't get home from work until 8 p.m., partly due to a 3-hour drive which wiped me out, but still, I couldn't help feeling like a slug.
I know it will pass. This happens from time to time when the pressure builds and the outside stressors of work, personalities and the weight of all my own responsibilities seem to pound down all at once. And of course, no one to really unload on.
My parents don't get the executive crap because they're not executives. My friends lend a sympathetic ear, but I hate venting to them all the time because I know I'd get sick of listening to the minutiae of a job I know nothing about and aren't affected by. We're considerate of each other like that. We vent occasionally, but not all the time.
So here I sit. Blogging and plotting what I'll do next. While I've been typing away, I've glanced over at a few file folders that need working on. In the back of my mind there are a couple other tasks that I know I could probably bang out in an hour or so. But can't bring myself to start on them.
I think my solution -- a short drive with my favorite CD and the windows all the way down; and then, I"m going to go home and make a nice dinner. An actual main course with a side veggie or something and a glass or two of one of the wines I picked up this weekend on my business travels.
I'll follow it with garbage TV, refuse to allow myself to feel guilty for not doing laundry or chores, and will myself that tomorrow is gonna be better.
Actually, I've been in one since yesterday.
Maybe its the ungodly heat. Maybe its PMS. Maybe its the sheer boredom and frustration I've been feeling lately with my job and my life. Perhaps a combination of all of the above.
I don't know. But I know I don't like it.
One minute, I'll be fine, and then totally lose focus and interest in the task at hand. I've been going home from work, turning on the AC and pretty much just vegging. So maybe it is the heat.
Last week, had been great. I was busy, had energy, got to the gym 3 times and went golfing for the first time ever and loved it.
Funny, I'd always made fun of golfers. "What could anyone possibly find enjoyable about trying to hit a small white ball into a small, faroff hole?" I'd laugh.
I now know the mystique. Its challenging and you're outside in the sunshine and it feels great when you whack that ball and on your first stroke actually get it ONTO the green. I even did a few little up and down jumps after a few good shots. But most importantly, everyone I know who golfs follows it with beers and bar food afterward. Which is, I think, the real reason most stick with the game.
But I digress. After a week of fun, I now find myself at the opposite end of the spectrum. Could be that this is my Hell Week with meetings and reports and all kinds of pressing, yet totally mind-numbing crap due. Not to mention a ton of upper management level politics and power plays and crap that are going on, with me having to play referee and I haven't had a day off in 9 days.
Yep, I worked the weekend -- 10 hour days, thankyouverymuch -- and won't be able to take a day off until at least this Friday. And probably not even then because of all the deadline stuff that I have to get done.
Yet here I sit blogging instead of working and not even caring because today had to be one of the worst days on this job yet. And I"m not gonna rehash because its just not worth it.
Thing is, its now going for 6:30 p.m. and I don't really know what I want to do or where I want to go. I don't feel like staying at work because I know I won't accomplish anything, yet don't feel like going home either. Just have this weird sort of limbo feeling. And can't shake it.
Like last nite -- I coulda, shoulda done a dozen different things -- laundry, cleaning, writing, shopping (need groceries), the gym, but instead, flopped on the couch and watched mindless TV and ate hot dogs for dinner.
Granted, I didn't get home from work until 8 p.m., partly due to a 3-hour drive which wiped me out, but still, I couldn't help feeling like a slug.
I know it will pass. This happens from time to time when the pressure builds and the outside stressors of work, personalities and the weight of all my own responsibilities seem to pound down all at once. And of course, no one to really unload on.
My parents don't get the executive crap because they're not executives. My friends lend a sympathetic ear, but I hate venting to them all the time because I know I'd get sick of listening to the minutiae of a job I know nothing about and aren't affected by. We're considerate of each other like that. We vent occasionally, but not all the time.
So here I sit. Blogging and plotting what I'll do next. While I've been typing away, I've glanced over at a few file folders that need working on. In the back of my mind there are a couple other tasks that I know I could probably bang out in an hour or so. But can't bring myself to start on them.
I think my solution -- a short drive with my favorite CD and the windows all the way down; and then, I"m going to go home and make a nice dinner. An actual main course with a side veggie or something and a glass or two of one of the wines I picked up this weekend on my business travels.
I'll follow it with garbage TV, refuse to allow myself to feel guilty for not doing laundry or chores, and will myself that tomorrow is gonna be better.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Dinner Revelations
Last nite my friend Michele and I met for dinner. We treated ourselves to a gourmet feast at a local fine dining restaurant and it was just what the doctor ordered -- even if I really couldn't afford it this week.
Ah well, that's what bill payment grace periods are for, right? Besides, it was cheaper than therapy.
"You know, I always used to wonder what was wrong with me that I wasn't married," she said. "I used to think it must be something about me, that's prevented me from finding someone."
"Nooooo," I said. "I don't think that's it at all. I think its just that we're both independent, self-sufficient women and some men are intimidated by that and others can't live up to our standards. And we're picky."
"But maybe, then, that's what's wrong with US," she suggested.
There have been times over the last 15 years when I've longed to be married and settled and out of the single rat race.
There have been other times when I've embraced my singlehood and thought I wouldn't want to live any other way.
Truth is, I do want to find my soul mate; I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone, or taking care of two dozen cats. But I also refuse to settle or compromise my standards. I'd rather be alone, than coupled up with someone just to be coupled up. Or worse, coupled up and miserable.
Michele no longer believes she is single because of some fatal flaw, but rather, because right now, she's on a different path, and when the time is right, and the right person comes along, it will happen.
I agree with that philosophy. I believe certain things in our lives happen for a reason, some of which are out of our control, and that in the end, things will work out for the best.
And maybe I'm still single, because on many levels, I am quite content and happy that way, and when I truly need someone else in my life, I will find someone and become not single.
But what really was surprising about our dinner conversation, was that while it started with a discussion on men, relationships and our current status, it ended with me finding out that we had way more in common than we'd known.
We've known each other about 8 years now. She is loud, raucous, giggly, sweet, totally selfless and literally a ball of energy. I too am loud, raucous, sweet/nice, and while not giggly, usually walking around in a good enough mood and with a smile on my face.
The differences, Michele had always struck me as a person very in touch with her feelings and not afraid to show them; someone who wore her heart on her sleeve, a hugger, someone who was, quite literally an open book.
I on the other hand, am always very conscious of my emotions, not very toouchy-feely, and very reserved when it came to expressing anger, hurt, joy or any other feelings in front of others. I would literally sit in a movie theater with a lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball, rather than let anyone see me cry during a particularly heart-wrenching scene, and while very passionate when alone with an SO, refrained from public displays of affection the way one would avoid a rattlesnake.
While most who know me know I'm a good person and would describe me as very nice, I've also been referred to as tough, cold, hard, unemotional. This is because I refuse to show hurt feelings or let people know when they've gotten to me. I can watch a man walk out the door and drive away with a stiff upper lip, holding off on the tears until his car is no longer in sight. I can hold my own in any argument. I open my own doors and carry my own luggage. When someone says something to try to hurt me, I respond blandly or with an equally hurtful remark and a defiant look on my face -- one that doesn't reveal the pain the remark inflicted. And a part of me is proud of that.
I cried twice in front of my last serious boyfriend, and one of those times was the night we broke up. I had tried so hard not to, but it was a precarious balance and as I stooped down to pick up my purse off the floor, tears spilled out onto the top of my handbag. I couldn't stop them and once they fell, it was like the floodgates had been pulled back.
I'm guessing he probably still remembers that nite too, since I didn't just cry, I outright bawled. Loud, shaking sobs and my uttering my disbelief that the breakup was happening because I thought he had been The One. The first and only time I had admitted that to him.
It happened a long time ago, but the memories of it still open up the wound and make it throb with a pain so hurtful I still wonder how I got through that period. My ability to compartmentalize saved me. I got through my days acting as though everything were fine, and saving the tears and sadness for when I was home alone.
And last nite, in a conversation that started out kvetching about work, then moved onto boys and a philosophical discussion about why we wern't married yet, I learned that in the area of not showing emotion or vulnerability, Michele and I are two peas in a pod. She confessed to being the same way. I was shocked.
She traces it back to childhood, I hypothesize its life experiences. After discussing over a fabulous shrimp dijon appetizer, we came to the conclusion it was both. Both of us got this way because of how we were raised -- if you did something and it didn't turn out right, then it was your fault. You were expected to get good grades and always behave, and when something upset you, you were told not to act like a baby and stop crying and complaining.
She really hit the nail on the head when she said, basically, I think the reason we're like that is that we're afraid to be vulnerable -- because we were taught not to be, or not to let anyone see you cry or act afraid or fail.
She's right. I am afraid to be vulnerable; I'm afraid to show weakness and I'm afraid to fail, because in my past, failure brought on criticism -- personal, professional or romantic.
In hashing this topic, we hypothesized that maybe THAT's why we're still single. Because we always try to be perfect ourselves, we're looking for an SO that can live up to the perfectionist standards we hold ourselves too. And of course, that person (man) doesn't exist.
We also want someone who will be the opposite of us -- who will be loving, not be afraid to express emotion, who can get us to let our hair down sometimes, and who will somehow magically be able to understand why, and not mind, that we don't reciprocate.
"We're our own worst enemies," she said, and again, she was right. I obviously am good at my job. I hold an executive position, have gotten good yearly reviews, and oodles of compliments from my higher ups. And yet, most days, I leave my office, thinking "I should've, could've, have to do .....better."
Even though everyone else around me is thrilled with the results.
I'm hardest on myself. Michele says she is too.
Our conversation made me think -- and I realized that it gave me a better understanding of myself and why I might be the way I am and how my mindset could actually be hindering me. I sometimes have less fun than those around me because I'm afraid to let go, I can be judgemental, by strictly adhering to my standards, I'm not being open to some possibly great experiences.
Over the past few years, I've been working on some things. I now not only voice my appreciation for gifts, but show it too. I've gotten more huggy with friends, tried to be a bit more open and emotional with family members. I let people help me with things even if I don't really need the help because I know it makes them feel good and takes me out of my Super Woman mode. And I let myself cry at sad movies -- right there in the movie theater for anyone to see. That is a HUGE step.
And I've become more open. And that is a very good thing. See, a few years back, I never would have admitted my fear of vulnerability to Michele. Never would have commiserated with her about our shared hard cores and emotional toughness. That means I've grown -- in a good way. It also means, some of the layers are coming off, and I'm letting more people in.
Hopefully, by the time I meet my soul mate, the door will be wide open. And I won't be afraid to cry, hug, laugh, kiss, sing, dance or any multitude of things with abandon. In the meantime, I'll keep working on that hard core -- try to show my human side more often -- and in the process, live life more fully and with more feeling.
Ah well, that's what bill payment grace periods are for, right? Besides, it was cheaper than therapy.
"You know, I always used to wonder what was wrong with me that I wasn't married," she said. "I used to think it must be something about me, that's prevented me from finding someone."
"Nooooo," I said. "I don't think that's it at all. I think its just that we're both independent, self-sufficient women and some men are intimidated by that and others can't live up to our standards. And we're picky."
"But maybe, then, that's what's wrong with US," she suggested.
There have been times over the last 15 years when I've longed to be married and settled and out of the single rat race.
There have been other times when I've embraced my singlehood and thought I wouldn't want to live any other way.
Truth is, I do want to find my soul mate; I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone, or taking care of two dozen cats. But I also refuse to settle or compromise my standards. I'd rather be alone, than coupled up with someone just to be coupled up. Or worse, coupled up and miserable.
Michele no longer believes she is single because of some fatal flaw, but rather, because right now, she's on a different path, and when the time is right, and the right person comes along, it will happen.
I agree with that philosophy. I believe certain things in our lives happen for a reason, some of which are out of our control, and that in the end, things will work out for the best.
And maybe I'm still single, because on many levels, I am quite content and happy that way, and when I truly need someone else in my life, I will find someone and become not single.
But what really was surprising about our dinner conversation, was that while it started with a discussion on men, relationships and our current status, it ended with me finding out that we had way more in common than we'd known.
We've known each other about 8 years now. She is loud, raucous, giggly, sweet, totally selfless and literally a ball of energy. I too am loud, raucous, sweet/nice, and while not giggly, usually walking around in a good enough mood and with a smile on my face.
The differences, Michele had always struck me as a person very in touch with her feelings and not afraid to show them; someone who wore her heart on her sleeve, a hugger, someone who was, quite literally an open book.
I on the other hand, am always very conscious of my emotions, not very toouchy-feely, and very reserved when it came to expressing anger, hurt, joy or any other feelings in front of others. I would literally sit in a movie theater with a lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball, rather than let anyone see me cry during a particularly heart-wrenching scene, and while very passionate when alone with an SO, refrained from public displays of affection the way one would avoid a rattlesnake.
While most who know me know I'm a good person and would describe me as very nice, I've also been referred to as tough, cold, hard, unemotional. This is because I refuse to show hurt feelings or let people know when they've gotten to me. I can watch a man walk out the door and drive away with a stiff upper lip, holding off on the tears until his car is no longer in sight. I can hold my own in any argument. I open my own doors and carry my own luggage. When someone says something to try to hurt me, I respond blandly or with an equally hurtful remark and a defiant look on my face -- one that doesn't reveal the pain the remark inflicted. And a part of me is proud of that.
I cried twice in front of my last serious boyfriend, and one of those times was the night we broke up. I had tried so hard not to, but it was a precarious balance and as I stooped down to pick up my purse off the floor, tears spilled out onto the top of my handbag. I couldn't stop them and once they fell, it was like the floodgates had been pulled back.
I'm guessing he probably still remembers that nite too, since I didn't just cry, I outright bawled. Loud, shaking sobs and my uttering my disbelief that the breakup was happening because I thought he had been The One. The first and only time I had admitted that to him.
It happened a long time ago, but the memories of it still open up the wound and make it throb with a pain so hurtful I still wonder how I got through that period. My ability to compartmentalize saved me. I got through my days acting as though everything were fine, and saving the tears and sadness for when I was home alone.
And last nite, in a conversation that started out kvetching about work, then moved onto boys and a philosophical discussion about why we wern't married yet, I learned that in the area of not showing emotion or vulnerability, Michele and I are two peas in a pod. She confessed to being the same way. I was shocked.
She traces it back to childhood, I hypothesize its life experiences. After discussing over a fabulous shrimp dijon appetizer, we came to the conclusion it was both. Both of us got this way because of how we were raised -- if you did something and it didn't turn out right, then it was your fault. You were expected to get good grades and always behave, and when something upset you, you were told not to act like a baby and stop crying and complaining.
She really hit the nail on the head when she said, basically, I think the reason we're like that is that we're afraid to be vulnerable -- because we were taught not to be, or not to let anyone see you cry or act afraid or fail.
She's right. I am afraid to be vulnerable; I'm afraid to show weakness and I'm afraid to fail, because in my past, failure brought on criticism -- personal, professional or romantic.
In hashing this topic, we hypothesized that maybe THAT's why we're still single. Because we always try to be perfect ourselves, we're looking for an SO that can live up to the perfectionist standards we hold ourselves too. And of course, that person (man) doesn't exist.
We also want someone who will be the opposite of us -- who will be loving, not be afraid to express emotion, who can get us to let our hair down sometimes, and who will somehow magically be able to understand why, and not mind, that we don't reciprocate.
"We're our own worst enemies," she said, and again, she was right. I obviously am good at my job. I hold an executive position, have gotten good yearly reviews, and oodles of compliments from my higher ups. And yet, most days, I leave my office, thinking "I should've, could've, have to do .....better."
Even though everyone else around me is thrilled with the results.
I'm hardest on myself. Michele says she is too.
Our conversation made me think -- and I realized that it gave me a better understanding of myself and why I might be the way I am and how my mindset could actually be hindering me. I sometimes have less fun than those around me because I'm afraid to let go, I can be judgemental, by strictly adhering to my standards, I'm not being open to some possibly great experiences.
Over the past few years, I've been working on some things. I now not only voice my appreciation for gifts, but show it too. I've gotten more huggy with friends, tried to be a bit more open and emotional with family members. I let people help me with things even if I don't really need the help because I know it makes them feel good and takes me out of my Super Woman mode. And I let myself cry at sad movies -- right there in the movie theater for anyone to see. That is a HUGE step.
And I've become more open. And that is a very good thing. See, a few years back, I never would have admitted my fear of vulnerability to Michele. Never would have commiserated with her about our shared hard cores and emotional toughness. That means I've grown -- in a good way. It also means, some of the layers are coming off, and I'm letting more people in.
Hopefully, by the time I meet my soul mate, the door will be wide open. And I won't be afraid to cry, hug, laugh, kiss, sing, dance or any multitude of things with abandon. In the meantime, I'll keep working on that hard core -- try to show my human side more often -- and in the process, live life more fully and with more feeling.
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