I met her reputation before I ever met her.

She was a favorite amongst the staff- befriended by many and admired by more. On my first day at the organization I watched people struggle to keep their composure, her name whispered amongst colleagues with sad eyes. This was the day everyone heard the news.

D had cancer.

Her picture hangs above the copier in the communal mail room. I’d look at it amongst the checkerboard of other staff faces- her long blonde hair and big beaming smile- and wonder about her. We were close in age.  It could have been me. Cancer is an unjust lottery that no one wants to win.

When I met her in person her smile was wry and weary, the punchline to her witty sarcasm. Over the last three years I got to know her. She was real and hilarious and had such a good soul. I loved her directness and her snark. She was a realist with a soft spot. She had an awesome sweater collection and we’d often exchange boasts of our bargain finds from Target. Both proud aunties, we’d compare cute nephew and niece tales. She would always say hello and ask how you were doing even when she was limping, or in pain, or puffy from the meds. Even when she’d just come from chemo before work. She was humble and generous and beautiful. She was a fighter and I admire how she never gave up.

A few months ago we talked in my cubicle about how her cancer had come back.  I bought her a copy of my favorite book – Mark Nepo’s The Book of Awakening. He had survived cancer and we were all hoping she would. It was a small gesture that I hope brought her some comfort. I wanted to do more but what can anyone do when someone you care about is sick? But show up. Care. Reach out. Be real. Give love.

I arrived to work yesterday to the news: D had passed away on Sunday.

Goddamnedfuckingcancer.

I’m so sad and angry and at a complete loss. So I sat down and wrote this post about her. Because she mattered to me. Because I’m really going to miss her.

Do me a favor, will you? Go tell someone you love:  You matter to me. And mean it. Say what is in your heart now. Don’t wait for tomorrow. Life is too fucking short to live small.

Live big. Live brave. Live like my friend, D- with guts.

“I’ve learned that grief can be a slow ache that never seems to stop rising, yet as we grieve, those we love mysteriously become more and more a part of who we are. In this way, grief is yet another song the heart must sing to open the gate of all there is.

In truth there is a small one who suffers in each of us, an angel trying to grow wings in the dark, and as this angel learns how to sing, we lose the urge to hide. Indeed, when one heart speaks, all hearts fly. This is what it means to be great- to speak what feels unspeakable and have it release what waits in us all.” – Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

Low: I’ve been working too much and am exhausted.

High: We exceeded all our fundraising goals for the event I’ve been slaving away on. HALLELUJAH!

*****

Low: I still have only made a handful of felt pins.

High: The sale isn’t until Dec. 5th and I have Wed-Sun off this week so I should be able to craft enough of them in time.

*****

Low: I still have two open apartments available.

High: I have four messages to return about setting up viewings.

*****

Low: I still am not working out as much as I should.

High: My eating has not falling off the wagon. I’ve let the wagon go, apparently.

*****

Low: I have been emailing with a few guys I’ve met on line but haven’t made any concrete plans.*

High: Dating is not on the top of my priority list and I am totally okay with that.*

*Should these both be highs or both lows?

*****

Low: Our laundry room is being upgraded. When they put the washing machines back they didn’t hook them up right. No one has really been able to do laundry for a week. There could be a dirty underwear mutiny on my hands.

High: The repair guys have been called.

*****

Low: I stayed up too late.

High: It was worth it. The Swell Season show at the Paramount was FANTASTIC.

*****

Low: I am hosting Thanksgiving this year and have realized I don’t have enough plates to serve the 8-10 people coming over.

High: Reason to buy new dishware- score! Plus, I love being the hostess with the mostest.

*****

What are your highs and lows today?

“. . . I have tried to take care of my needs by indirectly projecting them on those around me and then acting as if I am taking care of the other person.

This indirect way of trying to get what I need by planting my feelings as needs to be attended to in those around me has been a way to hide my vulnerability, while still managing to appear as a kind and other-centered person. I realize I am not alone in this malady. It is often so subtle and so close to our healthy way of relating to others that we seldom realize the manipulation and deceit involved.

. . .the energy wasted in trying to quietly get others to behave in ways that will satisfy our needs remains a major source of anxiety and alienation. Rather than prevent us from being hurt, indirectness and dishonesty only heighten our isolation from what it means to be alive.” -Mark Nepo

I do this.

I hate that I do this.

My awareness that I do this is so heightened that I feel raw.

So I’ve been embracing the directness in my personality because it is totally there underneath the nicey nice and people pleasing and co-dependence. My directness does not come from a hurtful or mean place. It’s just me listening to myself and speaking aloud my wants and needs. It’s just me being honest and vulnerable and strong. It’s just me being completely me.

In layman’s terms: I am owning my shit.

Not everyone is going to like it. That’s a different battle I will wage while lying on the couch of my therapist’s office (yes, she has me lie on the couch and yes, I sometimes pretend I am a character in a Woody Allen film). I am breaking down so many of my old habits that came from a place of intense fear of being rejected based on my unworthiness. That feeling of unworthiness has had a firm grip on me for a long, long time and from that I’ve made countless decisions that did not have my own best interest at heart.  I’ve cared more about what other people thought than what I thought. I’ve tried to manipulate situations to protect everyone’s feelings. And sometimes my attempts at being thoughtful have come from a place of self-protection not altruism. That’s an ugly truth but there it is. It all started with my Dad and the demise of the family and how in my own child’s mind I thought I could be enough to fix everything that was broken and it’s rambled on from there.

Lately, I’ve been cutting people out of my life for good reasons- reasons that have always been there except before I was not strong enough to walk away. I’m working on letting go. I tend to blame myself when anything goes wrong because I’ve spent my life being responsible for everything- even stuff that is not my stuff! And I am just bone fucking tired of it. I’m giving it up. . . and in the process some relationships are over. I’m making my peace with that. And with myself. I’m trying to work my way back to the start of all this so I can REALLY let go. I know I am getting closer. I know I am getting stronger. I know I am on the right path.

But I might need you to hold my hand sometimes.

I’m learning to ask for help.

I’m feeling a little wrecked, you guys.

I am tired despite sleeping 8 hours. I feel uninspired to make plans and when I get home, overwhelmed with too much to do having come from a job where I feel that way all day. I have three blemishes on my face. And wrinkles. And bags under my eyes.

This month launches my busy season at work with fundraisers in November, December and then once I return from holiday break, go-go-go time for my March fundraiser. Add to that two open apartments and very few takers, things breaking and needing repair constantly around the building and some pretty nasty run ins with The Music Man- oh and this morning my upstairs neighbor found a leak above his bed- I am wiped the fuck out.

I agreed to sell my wares at a holiday craft fair alongside my sister. At the time I thought I could pull it off though I was hesitant knowing how my life can go from la dee dah to holyfuckingshit in the matter of minutes. I’ve managed to eek out seven (only 7!) felt bird pins to sell and the show is December 5th. I am thinking I will be lucky if I have 20 to sell. This is not good. But when do I have time to craft?! I haven’t even done my laundry in two weeks and now the laundry room is closed for repairs until Saturday. (Commando!)

My life is a bit out of balance at the moment. (Hello! Understatement!) It’s no wonder that working out is taking a back burner. I’m trying to not beat myself up about it. I’m trying to not feel guilty that I don’t have time to spend with everyone I love. I’m trying not to scream I AM DOING MY BEST! Apologies if I am delayed in responding to emails, texts or calls. It is definitely not personal. I wish I had a clone of myself. I’d give the clone all the mundane, annoying crap and I’d run around hugging everyone.

There is not enough hugging in my life. Or kissing. . . but let’s not go there.

The thing about dating is I have to constantly reaffirm what I want to myself.

It’s easy to get sidetracked by something shiny. Oh he’s attracted to me! Oh he contacts me daily to hang out! Oh. . . but hanging out means going over to his place to be naked in bed. That? That’s not what I want. I mean I WANT that eventually but not as the main criteria for a “relationship.” I am not looking for a fuck buddy. Anyone can find a hook up. I want something deeper. I want something special.

I want to find My Person.

Maybe this makes me sound like a prude? I’m not. I’m just too tired and too old for the game playing, too disinterested in empty sex and hollow flirtations. I want to be wowed and I’m willing to wait for it. You see, I get to make a choice. Over and over. I am in charge of this to a certain degree. I firmly believe we teach people how to treat us. If I don’t want to be a piece of ass to some guy, then I don’t have to. The external validation can’t drive me. It’s what I’m seeking inside that counts here. I have to trust my gut. I have to trust myself. And I have to be patient.

You can’t force a person to be Your Person. I see myself and friends trying to calculate and negotiate a perfectly nice person into Their Person. It just doesn’t happen that way. Not in the way that lasts. If you have to engage in multiple processing conversations about what you are going to be or not be after two dates? There’s something not clicking there. If you can’t find time or inclination to get together? Then that’s telling you something. If you like them well enough but not enough to get excited about them? Then maybe you’re not all that interested. You can’t fake this stuff. You have to be real. You have to be honest. You have to try but know when to walk away.

That’s the part I’m learning- the walking away part. There’s no shame in it. There should be no regret. I do not ever want to be that person that someone settles for, that someone says is “good enough” or that someone stays with because they are too afraid of not finding anyone better. I want to be someone’s WOW, someone’s Person.

And I will be.

“And whatever happened to a boyfriend/The kind of guy who tries to win you over?/And whatever happened to a boyfriend/The kind of guy who makes love ’cause he’s in it/And I want a boyfriend/I want a boyfriend/I want all that boring old shit like letters and sodas/Letters and sodas. . .” -Fuck & Run, Liz Phair

Dear Self,

You have lost your focus.

We said we weren’t going to start dating until we had reached our goal weight but then we hit the 30lbs loss marker and our confidence was boosted. So instead of keeping our eyes on the prize, we set up a distraction and put up an ad and started dating. And then instead of focusing on us, we started to get lost in the external validation of other people.

There’s a fine line between internal and external validation and, let’s face it, ours got blurry.

We haven’t really worked out in a month. A MONTH! It’s been a lame attempt when we have- one water aerobics class a week sometimes due to our crazy work load (excuse!) or a half-assed session of sit ups and push ups. We haven’t fallen off our changed eating habits- those are now a way of life- but we would not spit out a french fry if it just so happened to fall into our mouth (it’s raining fries! hallelujah!). Not to mention the alcohol consumption. In all this fun we’ve been having, we’ve been drinking a lot more than we should to see any sort of weight loss. Plus, it makes us look tired around the eyes.

We’re at the same weight the last time we reported in which is fine- it’s just not progress. And we want progress. When we’re not working out we feel more tired, less inspired, and not as confident. Don’t you want to be our best self!? I do!  You should too! Stop sabotaging us and keeping us from our own happiness. Let’s love ourself better than we ever have before. Let’s do this without excuses. Let’s be happy. Finally.

Love,

You

Sunday I went to a new restaurant opening thanks to Double B who was the craftsman artist behind the interior of the restaurant. It is gorgeous inside and if you live in Seattle, you should definitely go check it out when it officially opens.

The opening included small plates of menu items for tasting and an open bar. I don’t know about you but I firmly believe two of the most magical words in the English language when put together are OPEN and BAR. So of course, I got a little drunk.

My sister’s friend J was there and since she and I are both single, we were checking out the eye candy in the room. Maybe it was my booze goggles but there seemed to be a higher percentage of attractive men in the room than I generally experience in Seattle. While J ogled the pretty boy bartender, I scoped the scene for stocky dudes with shaved heads and/or facial hair. The thing to note is when scamming with a girlfriend it is very important that you have different taste in guys because otherwise? It will not be pretty.

One of Double B’s friends had sold his car and bought a boat called the Morning Wood. So of course when I met him I had to say, “So I hear you have morning wood?” because I am classy like that. He was impervious to my charms. But some other guy came over and apparently was looking down my dress while we talked about restaurants. I didn’t realize he was checking out my rack until later when someone pointed it out. He gave me his card and wrote his wife’s blog url on it and told me to call him anytime so we could go have dinner. Later I was told they have an open marriage but still. . . really? The things I get myself into when tipsy.

Sizzle Fact #46: I am an obnoxious flirt when I am drunk.

I’ve been getting home after 8pm almost every day for over a week which means I either don’t eat dinner or eat it around 9pm and then fall into bed to get not enough sleep. I am tired to my bones. Between pulling off a fundraiser at work (successfully, I might add) and having multiple issues crop up at the building along with two open apartments, to say I’ve been slammed is an understatement.

So that’s my main excuse for not writing.

My secondary excuse is more emotion-based. Like I said, I was feeling punchy. I even went so far as to write a list entitled: “People I Want To Punch In the Face”. There were eight people on the original list along with the reason(s) why I wanted to cause them harm. It was rather cathartic. A week has passed and I don’t feel as full of rage but at the same time something shifted in me. I just feel D.O.N.E. with the bullshit. Maybe I say this all the time (do I say this all the time?) but I mean it. A switch was flipped and I am on a rampage. The kind that doesn’t lay down and let you walk all over her, treat her like shit, blow sunshine up her ass, take her for granted or be an asshole all over her for the 100th time. Time’s up! I’m walking! Later!

It’s a weird feeling but a good one I think…once I get underneath the spazzing and uncomfortableness of this newfound self-confidence. I’ve always been good at faking self-esteem but lately I am not actually faking it. I just have it. And boundaries and a backbone to boot. I’m not running around being mean to people. Quite the contrary. I’m owning what I want and need and not settling for mediocrity. It’s totally bad ass. If you’re not doing this already, I highly recommend it.

Let’s start a revolution.

“Find a cure/Find a cure for my life/Put a price/Put a price on my soul/Build a wall/Build a fortress around my heart/Oh my god/Oh you think I’m in control/Oh my god/Oh you think it’s all for fun/Is this fun for you?” -Oh My God, Ida Maria

Who wouldn’t want to get an email that said this?

“You are an incredibly smart and strong woman. You are making amazing strides in putting yourself first…and more and more remembering and KNOWING that you are worthy of a man who will communicate WELL, make you laugh, is smart as shit and mostly ADORE you for who you are, quirks and all…even when you make mistakes. And the right ONE will NOT make you feel SMALL…but because of how they love you, will make you feel like you are POWERFUL in your perfect imperfection. And they will always, even when they fuck up, come back to what matters most…you and he and a  loving trusting partnership full of integrity.”

It’s easy to settle for less when you feel like less. So I keep on working at feeling like more.

Thanks Jenny Two Times for the reminder.

I don’t know how she did it. How she survived losing the love of her life. Not once but twice. First to the bottle, then to cancer. Maybe three times even- to blindness then booze then illness. The sequence does not matter really but that it all happened.

Before the elephant in the room came to live with us, life was happier. We laughed a lot and had family adventures; we ate meals together at the same table and played board games; we did chores and went to the drive in and got ice cream cones. We got tucked in tight and kissed good night. The house was filled with love. My parents made that for us. Their love made our family.

We all experienced the same situation- my Mom, sister and I- but in entirely different ways. My Mom has asked me when I am going to be past all this. I believe her intentions come from a place of worry and concern because she’s my Mom and she hates to see me unhappy or in pain and maybe she wishes she could take it all away and make it better. Maybe she feels guilt too because she was the grown up and I was the kid. My Mom and I are close and I love her fiercely but there are certain things she and I have never been able to talk out even when we’ve tried. We are a lot alike even if she might deny it. I see myself now as a version of her when she was my age minus certain life circumstances. This complicates our communication. I don’t talk a lot about my Mom here because, well, she is alive and she reads my blog. Frankly, it’s easier to talk about someone who is not living. No rebuttal, you know?

So how does a person survive watching the man she loves stop choosing life? That’s the thing that I can’t figure out. After bouncing from one grief coping mechanism to the next, how do you come to peace? I suppose I wonder this because I can’t fathom it. Either allowing myself to love someone that deeply or watching the man I love leave. Maybe in our own way we all tried to save him. At age 38 or age 16 or age 13, we all tried to love him enough to fix him. And almost 18 years later we still have pieces of it to sort out. Isn’t that a big part of why we’re all in therapy?

How do you watch your partner take up space in the home you created but no longer participate in life? How do you talk to a drunk, depressed, passive aggressive? How do you take care of your kids, the mortgage, the bills, your full time job with him passed out in the chair and still manage to make dinner? I’m a grown up now and I think about how hard that must have been for my Mom. All those pressures. All that heartache. All those choices to make with no help.

She did the best she could.

I’ve spent my whole life afraid that I might find the kind of love my parents had and that it would turn out the way their love story did. A man lying in a bed breathing his last breaths way across town as two teenagers cry in their childhood home knowing that the woman driving frantically to get to him would not make it in time to say good-bye.

Maybe that wasn’t the end. But it’s what has stayed with me. And I’m trying to make my peace with it.

“Because you thought that you could outrun sorrow/Take your own advice/Thunder and lightening gets you rain/Run an airtight mission, a Cousteau expedition/To find a diamond at the bottom of the drain/A diamond at the bottom of the drain …” -Magpie to the Morning, Neko Case