white noise

I have a new project and I’m so excited I canna stand it! I get to GEEK! *squirm* Oooh, Marni’s SO gonna need a short leash now. lol

She’s coordinating a Teen Writers’ Group and I volunteered to put the website together and POOF, I get to put together the website now. *bounce* I get to put all my leet newbie skills into action. Look out world, I am the itty bitty geek, hear me roar.

WOOF!

okay, fooocus. ‘Nuff said. For now.

Snow rocks. :) It’s melting fast, but that’s okay. It snowed. I’m a happy camper.

Near the end of November of 2005, alongside writing my NaNo novel, I made a list of names. These were the people I considered either close to me in proximity or as friends and family, or I felt I might have harmed, judged, locked horns, or with whom I wanted to reinvest or strengthen my ties in.

I also went searching for wisdom and answers; something I haven’t done in a very long time. What was wrong with me? I’d crash-landed in a relationship I had no assurances would work, had next to nothing to my name, had been abandoned by my three closest relationships, and the only thing I knew for sure was that if I failed, the consequences of said failure looked mighty bleak. I could live with Yana … if she were divorced. She’s not, so chances were I’d end up in a shallow grave somewhere deep in the Nevada desert. I’m not very fond of her husband. He doesn’t treat her well.

My family wasn’t an option, either. Believe me, my parents might seem more normal these days, and I’m happy for their progress over the last couple of years, but if I had to live within a 200 mile radius of them, I’d eat a bullet. Black Tallon, even.

I’m proud of my sister’s efforts to get herself out of the drug scene, but her expectation is one that someone else should still foot the bill for her life … And not one of them — her, or my father and step-mother — understands that I ruined my health trying to take care of them. That, in of itself, still makes me crabby. (Yet, I still get those impulsive “Sissy to the rescue” moments. Jon has no problem helping to squash them.)

Chelsea was on my list too, but she didn’t make the cut this time. I’m happy to support her efforts, but from here on out, she’ll have to show more interest in me as a human being. The last time I spoke to her, she made me feel like a mere object, and I know that if I send any money now, she’ll only come back again and again seeking more. And wasting what she does get. It’s awful to think I may die with my sister believing I’m nothing more than a hateful troll when her life has been one of the greatest joys mine has ever known. But, that 16 year stretch between us makes me more of a parental figure than an older sister, and having been her guardian so much without the actual authority to back it up, it’s tough. I want to be my baby sister’s hero. I want to be SISSY! all over again, when love was unconditional, I didn’t have to be the bad guy and she was the innocent little girl not yet exposed to the malicious, mal-adjusted world to which my parents introduced her.

As Yana counsels, it’s something I can’t control. That’s why faith comes in. Somehow we have to have faith beyond our own noses to know these things will work themselves out. The outcome of a situation may not be what we want, hope, or pray for, but ultimately, we have to believe it works out for the best. Let go, have faith, move forward out of the darkness and pain.

Heal. Progress. Hope and pray.

And surround yourself with beautiful, happy people who can make you feel good about yourself, but more importantly about the world we live in. This is the lesson I learned from Paige in November and one which Brenda recently reinforced. Positive, good-natured people don’t reinforce negative traits within us. They speak with you on the same level. They open up and share themselves with you — not just to boast about their kids with an air that sets them above the rest, but also to share funny moments, triumphs and victories and hard lessons learned. Positive, thoughtful people don’t maliciously tear others down. They don’t attach themselves to you like life-sucking, malignant tumors, but nor do they hold you at bay, never engaging you on any level beyond the cerebral.

Brenda has shared experiences with me about others hurting her feelings, but she never tore any of those folks down or went out of her way to make them wrong. She simply told me how it made her feel, and said it wouldn’t change her. She might change how she responded to the offending parties, but there wasn’t anything for her to gain from dwelling on the incident. And she didn’t dwell. We talked about pickling and her garden instead. And every time I’ve left a conversation I’ve had with Brenda, I felt GOOD.

And it saddens me that I allowed others to tear her down, allowed them to call her clueless, among other things, because you know — she’s not. You’re my witness, your eyes. This shall not happen again in my presence. Ever. The Evil Breece has spoken. :)

It’s taken me almost 3 years to realize how little respect I’ve received from the people I considered friends. I kick myself a lot, because I didn’t listen to my own instincts and because the folks from my online gaming group do believe they’re better than me and they always have. Actions speak louder than words, you know? They think they’re smarter. They certainly think they’re more cultured and socially acceptable. I put them at the bottom of my list.

They didn’t make the cut.

In the beginning, it was clear that Jon was the only support I had. With all his secret meetings, many, many things are clearer to me now than were before. So, yes, he followed because he felt he needed to, but yep, we know where his true loyalties rest. I won’t kick myself quite yet for being a stupid, blind fool. As far as I’m concerned, for the last couple of days, we’ve been on that fine edge of no return and the compulsion to either call Yana and tell her to pick me up in Reno, or to just buy some random ticket to anywhere still screams like a banshee in my soul.

Repeat a thousand times with me, “this too shall pass.” He’s taken good care of me and he’s worked very hard. However, shame on me for allowing him to use my insecurities and vulnerabilities against me as he has. There may be a difference between Dissociative Identity Disorder and Dissociative Disorder, as illustrated by Dr. McVoy (thank you Crack-Head Dork Doctor who shouldn’t be practicing in California, but I suppose the Celexa was an easy fucking fix for you!), but he … hasn’t … met … dangerous …

Yet.

And she’s just itchin’ for a stupid male to hunt — that other part of my nature that I have busted my ass for so long to retrain and change. Caged up, locked inside of me, pacing the bars like some distraught inmate hedging for a fight. Is that the definition of “to thine own self be true?” No. And for what? To be manipulated by my own weaknesses by folks who claim to love me.

Yeah. Just fucking ducky. If there’s a crabby-ass resignation for “I Quit Society,” I’d like one. So far in the last three days, I’ve had to pull out my Courage to Heal books, convince myself this trek I decided to take back in November would well be worth the effort, regardless of what it might reveal about me. I made room to clear the poison and decay, but the unexpected surprises … well.

The one voice I know now that I need always listen for is my own. When my instincts tell me to jump, I’ll be asking, “how high?” When they say, “this is a bad seed,” I won’t be waiting around to find out if that assessment is correct, I’ll put faith in it and tuck my loppy tail and believe. If a person I’m around makes me feel bad, I’ll take that as my first clue. If I don’t feel I can respect someone, this will also be a sign to follow and run. Very far, very fast.

One of the interesting parts about the list of names I made isn’t just the people I wrote down, or the people I had to cross off, but also the people I haven’t heard from in a long time who weren’t on the list but suddenly either called me, or sent me an email. My name list grew by 5 names by … what? Divine intervention (?) without my input.

I’m sure some of those names on my list will probably never speak to me again (unless I make the effort to contact them), but we talked about whatever Bad Thing happened between us, that either I or they caused. At times I was pleasantly surprised to discover someone willing to accept an equal responsibility for a miserable outcome, and other times not. Those of us able to see things through the lens of the other person’s eyes or heart were able to say, “I didn’t see it that way before.” Walls came down. Communication improved. My dad is a good example. He’s still hard to communicate with due to the bi-polar, but I think he better understands how deeply he hurt me. He was sick the last time I talked with him and very crabby, so who knows for certain. :)

All in all, it has been a rough and rocky ride the last three months. I’ve grown. I’ve accomplished much. I still have more to do and the poison is not yet all gone. I hope it will be soon. I’m ready to move on and make even more improvements with my life. No sense dwelling, as Marni said, on people (and things — my addition) that really just don’t matter. The people who matter are those who invest time in us AND that we can invest ourselves in with good, positive things in order to help the world grow. Bury your bullshit in the backyard, it’s better for the flowers. Bury your love in the hearts of the people who give the world meaning. Work for your friendships, communicate, remember to have fun, be as gentle as you can except when you need to be firm, and share more cupcakes (preferably chocolate ones).

Jumpin off the Soapbox for now.

Sometimes in the busy-ness of the world, we forget to stop and say thanks. A very long time ago, a lady (her name will come to me … eventually) gave me a pin that has the letters WWJD (“What would Jesus Do?”). She was never pushy or offensive about her religion and it helped to open me up to learning more about God and Christianity. I’m still not inclined to follow any one organized religion, but I strive to maintain my spirituality and have a working relationship with “God” whatever form or shape that he or she may be. I look upon Jesus as a role model, mostly thanks to Yana’s input because she does tend to bring him down to earth and I very much like that. It makes him accessible and I like accessibility. To just say he died for our sins and he’s our only salvation says to me we’re all screwed — yeh, no. Big fat no. God put us here to figure it out for ourselves. Or, we put ourselves here to figure it out for ourselves, depending on which self-help book you’re reading on which day. But, to say Jesus is the only one who can make things right for us is a whole lot of excusing bad behavior. Doesn’t fly.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I struggle to accept responsibility for my own bullshit. I don’t like accepting the ugly parts of my nature any more than the next person, but without it, I’ll never achieve self-mastery, and this is one of my clearest desires. If I can master myself, I can be at peace with myself. If I’m at peace with myself, I’m in tune and in balance with the rest of the world, and — my friends, that is one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever felt in my entire life. If I can attain that inner peace more than 50% of the time, bonus for me.

But, the idea, too, is to understand that no matter what book you’re reading, what workshop you’re taking, or what church you’re attending, the information you’re getting is filtered through someone else’s interpretation. It’s up to you to pick what works for you. It’s not easy. It’s easier to follow to crowd and submit to peer pressure.

I am, (I think) by nature, a negative personality. It could be I am just by exposure to the life I’ve had, but it’s very easy for me to get drawn into negative habits, and very, very difficult for me to recognize them and step away from them. Although counseling with Dr. McVoy has helped, especially with the Fibromyalgia (it produces a LOT of negative energy), saying I’m going to change a behavior and actually changing that behavior are worlds apart. And, since I’ve had a lot of success in fixing all the damage over the years from the molestation and rape (I’m still not comfy calling it that), the physical and emotional abuses, etc. I got lazy. It’s constant work; I’m sick of working. I’m sick of the uphill battle. I’m sick of struggling.

Well, but, just because I’m tired of it, doesn’t change the fact that I’m an addictive personality. It doesn’t diminish my startle response. It doesn’t make me less vulnerable to codependency. It doesn’t make the night terrors or the flashbacks go away when they decide come to hang out and heckle me. It doesn’t soften the dissociative behavior or the fugue states (my experiences with fugues aren’t so bad, anyhow). My indifference makes them even more dangerous.

Fucking, DUH. (Can you tell I’m a wee bit crabby with myself? Yeh? Well, I’ve been a punk now for about 2.5 years, don’t bug me, I have a right. Someone has to keep me in line. :)

Spiritually, I haven’t been growing. As a matter of fact, since I moved to Blacksburg, and up until the beginning of this year, I’ve felt like I’ve been shrinking … shriveling up. Blackening even, as if I’m charring. As I said in an earlier post, I’ve not felt any god like presence at all. I know why Peter scrammed — someone else was the center of my attention. I feel Sharon had similar issues, coupled with the fact that I wouldn’t be her dumping grounds when she refused to work on our troubled relationship. But those two losses undermined my confidence a lot. And, had I known that the folks I kept company with after ending my relationship with her were as bad as she is about gossiping, I’da yanked my head outta my tush a hell of a lot faster and ran for cover WAY sooner than 2.5 years. Whoa Nellie.

But, I love Sharon, and were there some way that we could get couples counseling across the web and she’d work on being a happier camper (yes, me too), we’d still be in contact. We were both fubar puppies, and we both have our issues to hammer out. Chances are, we probably should not have lived under the same roof, given our mix of problems, but who knows what might have happened to me if I hadn’t moved in with her and Howard when I did. We’ll never know, because I’m here. And this part of our lives I can never forget, no matter how miffed I get with her for being a schmuck. She saved my life. Yes, that matters.

Peter’s just a lost cause. I understand why, but I’ll always believe it obnoxious — yanno, what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. If he had other issues with our relationship, well, then he should have been honest about it and put a little effort into making it clearer. Feh.

So, to answer the question: What would Jesus do? Why, he’d love. It’s a difficult thing to do. Yana tells me he was a trouble maker in his own right. He toppled tables, raised his voice, shook his fist, etc. He was an in-your-face kinda guy — my kinda guy. He stood up for what he believed in and he believed in himself. He believed in others. Well, I suppose that’s a start, yes? It’s a good example. And I’d like to surround myself with positive happy people. But also, people not afraid of being honest with me and with themselves. I gotta tell you, too — Miss Marni packs a punch and she nailed me — not once last night, but twice. My REAL relationships (like herself, like Jon, like my Yana booboo ((one day she WILL kill me for the sappy pet names))) should be worth the sum total of everything else in the world and should come first (and, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!; my paraphrase). And, I need to nip this latest codependency problem pronto. The rest of her assertions I can haggle over with her because sometimes we need to remember to let our buds know they’re not doing everything wrong, but those two points — yeh, the frankness … She didn’t beat around the bush, candy coat them, gussy them up and make them look purdy, or say them gently. It hurt. Blindingly. No, I didn’t want to hear those particular truths. At the moment, I mostly want to lick my wounds. Actually finally coming to terms with what I *really* want and believe is a huge stress relief, but also difficult. I want my mommy. :(

But, she’s right. Regardless of Jon’s recent confessions and confidences (which are a heavy burden and terrifying in their own right), he’s taken care of me. He’s loved me like no one else ever has. He works hard, keeps a roof over our heads, and has given me free rein to explore the person my parents never gave me time to explore. He buys me flowers and sends me smooches via email, I get drive-by kisses at night when we’re home together. He tries my cooking techniques even when he thinks his cooking techniques are better (engineers, I tell ya!). He tries hard to meet me half way even when he starts the battle because he knows (at least now he does) if he starts it, he better be willing to finish it, because I certainly will and there’s no trying to win by intellect alone. I’ve been street smart longer than he’s been alive (insert satisfied smirk here).

The empty, relationships lacking any form of respect or appreciation are meaningless and a waste of my valuable time. Time I can be spending with people who *do* value me– my insight, my input, my laughter and sick sense of humor. People who do want me to challenge them and push them out of their comfort zones. Go on, I dare ya, drive through that drive thru and ask for a refill on yer Coke!

Marni (I hope you don’t mind, ma’am– yell if you do), reminds me of my deputy friend, Randy. Except she’s more refined and a hell of a lot prettier. :P Randy could be hurtful in his honesty, it was that blunt, but he was also the one who taught me that we’re all conveniently principled. He’s also the reason I try to be consistent in my beliefs and NOT conveniently principled. One of the most important values I have in friendship came from a fight I had with him: Do not hold me to a standard that you yourself will not uphold. Marni works on herself, too. I see her making an effort to make better choices. It’s a good example to follow. She’s not just socking it to me for kicks and sadistic relief because her own life is out of control. I trust she’s made an honest observation based on my recent distress and she’s not holding me to a standard while sitting back on her butt doing nothing.

Friendship, like any relationship, needs work. It must be nurtured, monitored, and cared for with an eye for what is healthy. My relationship with Yana has survived many bumps and bruises, and there have been times when we weren’t sure it would. Sometimes fear was the culprit and fear of loss is a bad thing — don’t let fear dictate the outcome of a situation. There have been times when Yana made commitments that I depended on (life-altering) with which she nearly couldn’t follow through, but instead of being honest and coming to me in a timely fashion so that we could find alternative answers, her fear nearly wrecked our relationship. She waited until after the fact to speak up. Now she knows, and I know, that we need to communicate — no matter what. The truth has to come first. It’s working, and we’re doing very well. I feel closer to her than I ever have, especially on a spiritual level.

Now Scott … he’s about to get his arse schooled. :P I shouldn’t say that. He does call sometimes and he is a busy-body so maybe I just need to make myself more of a pest. And, Miss Jennifer cracks me up. I’m not sure what to do about her. I miss her when she’s not here, but 3,000 miles makes it very difficult to get in her face and say, “HI, I’M HERE!” She’s one of those very immediate persons. Kinda like Jon in a way, except that she also has a husband, twin 1 year-olds and a job! She’s very good, up-beat people tho, so I’ll keep trying different ways to maintain contact.

I feel a bit on the battle-worn side tonight. Waiting for Yana to call back, just got off the phone with Marni, and my [un]happy little arse should be on its way to bed.

The mandala.

It haunts me, taunting me with my hearts’ desire. I don’t hear voices in my head, but I can certainly hear them in my soul. My heart aches, too. All over again. How the hell did I end up back where I began? Because … the mandala says I need me. I need my own strength. I need my own unshakeable truth. I need my ferocity. My own two feet. My independence.

I haven’t fallen into co-dependent behavior since Lance — since, hmm, 1995. So why now? *sigh* This is a very yucky situation and I fear it calls for a scalpel, a flashlight, and yet another trip inside myself to clear out the decay. Self-mastery is a continuous process and I grew too lax. Life is starting to sound too much like a scratched record.