Poetry Month, The End
April 29, 2011 at 7:08 am | Posted in my neurosis, poetry | 7 CommentsApril is National Poetry Month and my magnificent friend Amy is encouraging us to take 5 minutes every Friday over breakfast and just jot down a poem. Please feel free to join us! My first attempt is here. Second, here. Third, here.
There are things kept dear-
A tattered old photograph of loved ones long gone marks a place in a book that has nothing to do with them.
An heirloom ring too small for any finger sits tucked in a box in the dark recesses of a closet, remembering a time when it glinted off party lights and twirled around a dance floor on the hand of my ancestor.
A simple greeting card worn from being opened and closed, closed then opened, lies in a drawer. Inside the card he penned, “Love Ya”- his signature phrase.
A memory of running carefree in a swimsuit through sprinklers on a sweltering day, the just-mowed grass clinging to my ankles like hope,
the peals of delight coming from a place
I have forgotten the way to.
Relics of a yesterday
that shaped today.
****
I give you one of my favorites by one of my favorites:
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.
-Mary Oliver
Nothing More Than Feelings
April 26, 2011 at 7:08 am | Posted in confessional, living out loud, my neurosis, processing | 12 CommentsI am having too many feelings.
Maybe this is my normal level of feeling-ness but the difference is that I am actually feeling them. Like deep, a gut-punch of feeling. I blame therapy entirely.
I suppose this is the purpose of therapy (it is) and that I should feel some level of gratitude (I do) and yet I’m not sure how to BE. Does that make sense? I’ve lived my life at the precipice of certain feelings and now I’m in them. It’s all a bit much, frankly.
It’s probably odd to people who know me that I’m just now getting in touch with feeling my feelings. Especially because I spend 90% of my blog going on and on about my emotions. (Would we call that irony?) I’m entirely more comfortable talking about other people’s feelings than my own. Let’s talk about you! Let me take care of you! I have lots of advice (that most of the time I won’t take for myself) (AHEM). I’ve used this blog (and before that, countless paper journals) to express in written form what is often hard for me to articulate out loud. I’m a process-y kind of person. I delve into the muck of my mind. What can I say, I relish in organization in all its forms.
It’s just that now instead of being in my head all the time, I’m in my feelings.
So when I am sitting on my therapist’s couch -the couple’s counselor, the one who has me do direct eye contact for upwards of 45 minutes at a time (hello! INTENSE!) and I’m talking and looking at her and she’s just there, just listening, just supporting, just staring straight at me. . . I am unnerved and yet, it opens me. It opens me to a place that is unfamiliar and scary and yet I want to dive deeper into it. I feel things acutely and if I look away, attempt to shift focus, lamely try to divert her attention, she sees.
It’s a powerful thing, being seen.
In my last session I felt like I had a positive revelation about myself. I walked out of the office feeling that I had a grip on who I am and, no small feat, I felt really good about that person. Even though when I talked about myself to her I was emphatic in my explanation of Who I Am as a person. I’m a good person. I am strong and intuitive and sensitive and funny and kind. I’m very loved. I said all this with strong gestures, almost making fists and pounding the arm rest. Uh, who are you trying to convince? Oh right- me. I even was considering how to shift my blog and my persona of being this “neurotic is the new normal” type of girl. Because that person? I’m outgrowing her. I don’t want to play into that small version of myself. I’m tired of writing that story.
All this is to say that I’m making progress. Even when I write posts like yesterday where I admit to falling into a pit of despair and negativity. Even when I have a bad day. Especially when I let myself feel the feelings without distracting myself or worse, completely disconnecting to the point of numbing out. I’m rather adept at that. You might never have noticed because I’ve been practicing my cover up techniques for many years. Or maybe you did? It’s well documented that I am a terrible liar.It’s quite possible I could have been deluding myself all this time.
Regardless of all that, the point is that I am getting somewhere. I’m not sure where. I’m not sure when. I’m not 100% enjoying it but it feels like the right path.
IT FEELS.
Yeah.
That.
Disjointed Self-Perception
April 25, 2011 at 6:28 am | Posted in body image, processing | 30 CommentsI was feeling pretty good about myself. Like more sure of worthiness, of love, of self-acceptance. I was getting better at saying aloud what my strengths are, albeit emphatically, because apparently I am in the phase where I have to convince myself still. I was thinking to myself- I can do this! I’ve made it to the promised land of loving yourself! Hallelujah!
And then I looked in the mirror.
The scene was more like, Mr. Darcy pulled me back to sit on his lap on the bed and I gazed to the left and caught a glimpse of myself in our full length mirror. All I saw was a big lump wearing stripes and with a double chin. I pushed myself up and away, disgusted. I felt something in me sink. We were about to leave the apartment to spend the day outside in the sun and all I could think about was crawling into a big sweater and hiding in the safety of the apartment. I did not want to be seen. Who would want to look at THAT?
I certainly didn’t.
It’s hard on Mr. Darcy to hear me be down on myself. He says he doesn’t see what I see which is sweet and I love him for trying to pep talk me. I can’t accept compliments very well. And frankly, the problem has always been MY self-perception and inability to accept myself for who I am and what I look like as someone who is good and worthy of love. I spend a lot of time in therapy trying to sort this mess out. I go through periods where I am feeling stronger and other times where it’s all I can do to put an outfit on and walk out the door. I’m not being dramatic here. It’s debilitating, my negative self-image. I’m embarrassed to admit it but I’m trying to move past it completely so I have to be honest. I have to speak my truth and hope that in saying it, I’m moving towards a new truth.
I have spent the majority of my life ashamed of my body. I’ve learned to over-compensate for what I see as a deficit by being smart or funny or personable. It’s not that I don’t think I am a good person, a smart person, a kind person- it’s just that I don’t think the package I come in is all that worthwhile. It makes me sad to type that. It makes me sad that I believe that.
When I caught that glimpse of myself in the mirror I felt so dejected. On top of that I’ve seen a couple of photos of myself taken candidly where all I see is my lumpy, fat body. That’s what I hear in my head, “Look at how gross you look.” Gone is the feeling of strength from working out 5 times a week and the joy from moving my body to music and in its place is a feeling of not-enough-ness. I was trying to just focus on enjoying working out for the sake of enjoyment and health because the berating and guilt of “dieting” was hammering me into a bad mental state. But now I feel myself shifting into that mind-fucked place where I get obsessive about my diet, about my work outs, about numbers rather than just feeling good about doing something healthy for myself.
Have you done this? Felt that shift? Gotten bogged down with the number rather than the feeling? Or let the numbers influence your self-worth? What do you do when you get down on yourself?
(I know I talk about this topic a lot (too much) here. I also know I have to write it out to work towards a different place. Someday I hope these kinds of posts will be impossible for me to write because the feelings will no longer be true.)
5 Minute Friday Breakfast Poem #3
April 22, 2011 at 6:42 am | Posted in poetry | 9 CommentsApril is National Poetry Month and my magnificent friend Amy is encouraging us to take 5 minutes every Friday over breakfast and just jot down a poem. Please feel free to join us! My first attempt is here. Second, here.
There is always a choice
between then and now
yesterday and today
dream and reality
fiction and fact-
separate.
What’s it going to be, girl?
Where are you going to hang your smile
that sets the world ablaze and hearts alight,
the one that gives reason to improbability
and changes the direction of feeling.
Dig deep.
You got it in you-
the courage, bravery, chutzpah-
call it by whatever name it answers
to, sing it from rooftops on tip toes
as you walk the precipice and
brazenly begin to be
YOU.
Because girl, there is too much happy
to be happy about and not enough
time to feel it all in one lifetime.
Too much marrow in today to be
looking backwards for scraps.
Too much you to be
wasting time on what ifs and wanting wistful wishes.
Be you.
Without apology
and with a smile.
****
I discovered Sharon Olds in college and quickly purchased all her books of poetry. She is one of my favorite poets. Here’s one that particularly speaks to me and which I performed in a theater class when I was 20. It fit where I was at in my life at the time.
The Victims
When Mother divorced you, we were glad. She took it and
took it in silence, all those years and then
kicked you out, suddenly, and her
kids loved it. Then you were fired, and we
grinned inside, the way people grinned when
Nixon’s helicopter lifted off the South
Lawn for the last time. We were tickled
to think of your office taken away,
your secretaries taken away,
your lunches with three double bourbons,
your pencils, your reams of paper. Would they take your
suits back, too, those dark
carcasses hung in your closet, and the black
noses of your shoes with their large pores?
She had taught us to take it, to hate you and take it
until we pricked with her for your
annihilation, Father. Now I
pass the bums in doorways, the white
slugs of their bodies gleaming through slits in their
suits of compressed silt, the stained
flippers of their hands, the underwater
fire of their eyes, ships gone down with the
lanterns lit, and I wonder who took it and
took it from them in silence until they had
given it all away and had nothing
left but this.
A for Approach
April 21, 2011 at 6:31 am | Posted in funny bone, the super | 21 CommentsI have this one tenant that amuses me. He’s very friendly and nice and I like him. No, really! I do! He’s never given me any hassle. I enjoy his occasional emails the most. A few months ago he sent me this:
How’s it going? Seen any good movies lately? I’ve seen a few, namely Black Swan, The Fighter and True Grit. All of them thoroughly entertaining. Trying to get to The King’s Speech next.
Anyway, I have a some bad news. The faucet in my kitchen has developed a steady drip that can only be stopped by shutting off the water under the sink. The hot drips worse than the cold but both are starting to act up now. I’m afraid it may be time for a new faucet as evidenced by the rusty debris working its way out from under the faucets stainless facade.
I’d be perfectly happy to just have the old one fixed but if it needs to be replaced do you think the Dublin could spring for a setup with a taller downspout? The better for filling pots and doing dishes.
He signed it “your pal”. I enjoyed the movie opening of the email the best though the part where he goes “Anyway, I have some bad news…” is in the running. And also his use of the word facade.
Then last night I got this:
I have a few questions:
1. What would be the procedure for me to take on a roommate, i.e. the lovely Jill you may or may not see me with occasionally? I think I remember you mentioning a 25 dollar increase in rent to cover water. Is that correct?
2. What if Jill’s move in coincided with the arrival of a foster cat from Seattle Humane? 200 dollar deposit maybe?
3. Does my lease become month to month after my initial 12 months?
4. How do all these questions make you feel?
You could call or text or email me answers or we could set up a time to have some beer on the balcony if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind chatting about this in person at all.
My favorite part is question #4. I would like to respond,“Well, it makes me feel tickled because your emails are funny.” And also, follow up question, “Are you providing the beer? If yes, see you Saturday at 5pm on the communal balcony.”
See? Not all my tenants are a pain. It’s just that they are generally the ones giving me blog fodder.
Name It
April 20, 2011 at 6:36 am | Posted in adventures, reader participation | 12 Comments**UPDATE** We have decided on a name- The Ulterior Motive Mob. If you’re local and want to join, we have a few spaces left. We’ll be beautifying the South Park Skate Park. Email me!
Last night at a Tweet Up for non-profit types, my friend Frank & I got roped into volunteered to co-captain a team for the annual Seattle Works Day on May 21st. (Ok, I volunteered him but that’s what you get for being my friend.) Seattle Works is a great local non-profit organization that connects volunteers with volunteer gigs. Seattle Works Day is when throngs of people spread out across Seattle to tackle volunteer projects from gardening to feeding the homeless and then after we all gather at the Seattle Center to grub on delicious food, toast with tasty beers, and enjoy a whirlwind of activity that is the after-party. It’s a really good time (Mr. Darcy and I were on a team last year). It costs $30 to sign up but that gets you into a cool volunteer project, a commemorative t-shirt, plus food and drink and fun post-doing good.
We’re kind of coming into this team captain gig a bit late in the game so we have to do 2 things quick.
1) Name our team!
2) Recruit friends to join our bad ass do good-ing team of misfits
I know many of you aren’t local BUT! if you are and want to join our team, let me know and I will email you the information. For the rest of you, can you help us out by suggesting fun, tongue-in-cheek team names? We need to have it picked out by tonight (eek!) and I know you are all a bunch of creative masterminds. That’s why I thought I’d ask. Also, you look really good today. Did you do something different with your hair?
<wink>
Suggest away!
A 4 Day Celebration Worthy of Turning 38
April 19, 2011 at 8:41 am | Posted in birthday, family, float my boat, living out loud | 25 CommentsRinging in my 38th birthday was a lot of fun. Here’s photographic proof:
Friday night date with my sister at a local wine bar, she shot this:
It was the end of happy hour so I had to double up. HAD TO. (No, that is not a young Gary Busey behind me.)
Saturday after getting my groove on at Zumba (no photos because that’d just be waaaay to sweaty and red-faced), Mr. Darcy & I drove up to see the tulips:
This is not a picture of tulips but rather the best part of the adventure which was NOT the tulips.
I had very much-anticipated seeing the tulips but sadly with all the rain and cold we’ve had, very few had opened and the fields were VERY muddy (re: slippery!). Plus, there were throngs of screaming, wild children running amok. SO! Mr. Darcy and I have now made a pact that we will not visit places with the word “field” or “farm” or “patch” in them unless we have children with us. We feel very good about this agreement.
Sunday was breakfast with my family at my favorite joint:
Entertaining the nephew while we wait for PANCAKES.
As we were eating our pancakes my nephew says to me, “After this we can go to your house and have your pancakes,” to which my heart melted a little bit because that boy sure does love my pancakes. He’s declared them The Best. And tells my Mom that her pancakes are the worst but she makes really good hot dogs. (Ha!)
Double B behaves while Supple doesn't.
Kaply came because, yes, she's part of my family. Plus, she really likes hollandaise sauce.
My Mom has adopted Supple.
My sister and I are big on self-portraiture.
Then I met my friends Aimee and Meghan for massages. They’d never been to this particular place but I go all the time. Unfortunately, the masseuse I got had hands that reeked of cigarette smoke and he wheezed like he was down a lung. It was giving me flashbacks. Uncomfortable flashbacks. Luckily most of the massage is focused on the feet (it’s a foot reflexology place) so I didn’t have to smell him for long. As Meghan was being massaged, the guy’s elbow working some magic, something popped in her back to which the guy leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Your rib.” Hey, now she doesn’t have to visit the chiropractor for a while!
Jen (pictured in the middle) met us later for Vietnamese food. It was a good girlie time.
Can you believe we’re just now getting to my ACTUAL birthday?
Mr. Darcy insisted on giving me his gift as he sat on the couch in his towel pre-shower. (Hubba!) And then I was off to Nia before meeting up with my Mom and nephew for “an adventure”. They came over with lunch and lit a candle in a homemade brownie and sang to me.
The sun was actually shining for most of the day. A birthday miracle!
Finn is sprouting like a weed. And he is very athletic. He prefers sports to the arts. I'm not sure my sister knows what to do with that.
Then Supple picked me up for a pre-dinner cocktail wherein we ate olives and talked about her inability to flirt. (I tried to give her tips- first one, Confidence with a capital C.)
I wore a new dress which fits great when I stand up but when I sit it feels too tight. Ooof! I wore it anyhow because what the hell, I'm 38!
Mr. Darcy took me to Dahlia Lounge which was delicious from start to finish. They even comp’d my half-glass flight of wine that accompanied each dish because it was my birthday. They also gave generous pours (so it is no wonder I fell asleep on the couch at 10pm- that was a lot of wine).
Making a wish on the most delicious coconut cream pie EVER.
My man sure does spoil me. I'm so lucky.
It was an awesome birthday from start to finish. From thoughtful friends calling, texting or sending gifts (you shouldn’t have!) to family going above and beyond to make me feel special, I loved every second of it. I can’t really believe I am 38 though the lines on my face remind me daily. I think 38 is going to be a really good year.
Thanks for all the birthday wishes!
Sister = My Heart.(Birthday post by Dokey)
April 17, 2011 at 11:06 pm | Posted in my neurosis | 28 Comments
When we were small, I always wanted to be nearby my sister; knocking on her bedroom door every ten minutes (o.k., maybe every five minutes) to ask: “what are you doing?”, “what are you doing now?”. Her most common answer, reading, never seemed as interesting as entertaining me. After a while, she usually caved, put down her book and let me enter her room. I vividly remember climbing up onto her bed, resting next to her on the pale blue satin comforter, staring out the window at the birch branches, completely content to be exactly where I was, with my favorite person.
Naturally, our lives have changed quite a bit since those early days on Regina Way, but the feeling remains, I’m always glad to be with my sister. How could I not be? She’s the most amazing person you’ll ever be lucky enough to know. Honestly. Sure she’s hilarious, brilliant and clever, but above all else, she’s real and in turn, she encourages (or sometimes pushes) you to be the same. She’ll tell you the truth, no matter how hard it is to hear. She’d most likely give you her heart if she could. She’ll definitely give you the hug of your life, hands down.
This year, dear sister, I hope all your birthday wishes come true, you deserve that and so much more. Thank you for being my constant shining star. I love you with all my heart, Doke.
5 Minute Breakfast Poem #2
April 15, 2011 at 6:45 am | Posted in poetry | 2 CommentsApril is National Poetry Month and my magnificent friend Amy is encouraging us to take 5 minutes every Friday over breakfast and just jot down a poem. Please feel free to join us! Last week’s poem is here.
There is a little girl
who is huddled in a room
and she is crying
but know one knows it.
She can’t name why
and even if you asked, she wouldn’t tell
because good girls know
you don’t speak of such things.
There is a woman who was once a little girl
who can’t look you in the eye and still
stay to connected to her own heart.
Either the eyes dart away and the feeling stays
or the feelings drop and shatter but the eyes still
hold your own.
But even when she holds your gaze
she goes somewhere else.
You are not invited there-
and she’s sorry
and lonely
and sad.
***
Losing
Losing too is still ours; and even forgetting
still has a shape in the kingdom of transformation.
When something’s let go of, it circles; and though we are
rarely the center
of the circle, it draws around us its unbroken, marvelous
curve.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
Party with a Beat
April 14, 2011 at 6:39 am | Posted in float my boat, fun & frolicking, Nintendo brand enthusiast | 9 CommentsI think I’ve found a new reason to bring my girlfriends together.
You know what I’m going to say, right? I don’t even need to say it. But I will anyhow.
Dancing!
Duh.
Since Mr. Darcy was away last week in New Jersey for a quick trip to visit his homeland before starting his new gig, I decided it was the perfect opportunity to throw an impromptu dance party. I mean I had wine and a Wii. What else did I need?
Have you tried Just Dance 2? Or, The Michael Jackson Experience? Because seriously, those two Nintendo games are just about the most fun I’ve had in a really long time. The Michael Jackson Experience is harder than Just Dance 2- that Michael had some really complicated and cool moves. You should have seen RCB & Booyah Girl bustin’ a move to “Dirty Diana” though. It was hot!
Terrell proclaimed she was going to dance her ass off- really, she said this to me right after we’d just finished sweating buckets in Zumba- and she wasn’t joking. She was the highest scorer every time she’d dance. I particularly enjoyed when she, Supple and I were all up dancing to “Proud Mary”. It was just the opening of the song where the beat is pretty slow and steady. T says, “Is this how it is the entire song?” with a twinge of disappointment in her voice to which Supple and I replied in unison, “OH NO!” Because if you know that song, you know it gets kicked up 100 notches and you end up dancing in a maniacal frenzy.
Which we did while laughing.
It is the most fun. Sincerely. And a good work out!
You totally want to be invited to my next dance party, don’t you?
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