Hope.

I sit in the office, unable to focus on the unread emails piling up in my inbox.  A piece of me feels empty, alone and in need of comfort.  A piece of me I am becoming more and more convinced I may have been born without.  I can't place my finger on it.  I can't explain more than the simple fact that I am acknowledging something is missing.  I don't know what this something is, but it's gone, and I feel incomplete.

I sit at my desk, wondering where to begin; not just with work but with my life, suffocating me as each minute passes.  The feeling of isolation can be unbearable, and if you've never experienced it, be grateful. 

Typing out texts, only to not send them because there's no place or time to be vulnerable today.  Nobody wants to hear it; not co workers, the world of facebook.  Nobody.

I am equally to blame for wanting to keep my feelings to myself today.  I'm not the type of person to blame others, and I'm sure as hell not going to start today.  Or is that my problem?  Do I want to bear responsibility for too many things around me, so much so that I suffocate myself? 

I'm happy with my life 353 days a year.  It's only about one day, every month, that I find myself disgusted, isolated and alone.  I wonder if I ever were to let someone in; would they be able to handle me on these dark seemingly hopeless days?  I fear the worst, and don't dare expect the best; although would expecting the best be some sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy? 

In one of my classes we are studying a woman from the 1940's who undertook a moral journey.  Since the beginning to class, I almost feel like the class should be studying me.  I go back and forth with my own morals (or lack thereof) on a regular basis.  The more we study her, perhaps the more I'll begin to understand myself; as I see far too many debaucherous comparisons between our lives (save for the fact that I'm not living in the 40's, nor am I jewish).

I'm ready for my life to adopt a cheesy saying like "it's come full circle."  (at least I think I'm ready).  I sure as hell know these once a month repeats of feeling gross are becoming less and less enjoyable as each one passes.

At least there are 353 days in a year that I'm more content than any one of those twelve.  Hope.

Smidgen of an Update

I need something to give right about now.

See, although I’ve claimed to give up on men, and start focusing on me, myself and I…and can’t totally say I’ve been doing my best. I haven’t been to the gym in a week due to an INSANELY CRAZY schedule that I can’t even begin to explain. Oh, and then there was that public make-out session while I was extremely drunk last weekend (with a boy I’ll call Big V, whom I had only met for the first time, but had known OF him for a long time via facebook, I digress).

Have I mentioned I started taking happy pills last fall? I didn’t? Hmm…well, if I did or I didn’t, I kinda sorta forgot to take them for the past two weeks….WHAT WAS I EFFING THINKING?! No worries, I’m back on the blue little wonders….

Then there’s the “OMG I FEEL LIKE I’M PREGGO BUT I HAVEN’T HAD SEX IN ALMOST A DAMN YEAR” thing….Fer Realz. What in the hell is my problem? Right this very minute, it feels like a brand new minion is fluttering in my stomach! No joke…really, no joke. I made a doctor’s appointment because I was extremely unsettled that pseudo-pregnancy can be a contraindication of CANCER…eff that!

I’ll also let ya know that baby boy passed a wicked case of Strep Throat to me earlier this week. I swear to god it was the worst flipping sore throat I’ve ever had in MAH LIFE! The pain radiated to my ears. Gross.

I hate drama. Hate it. I have doing my damnedest to avoid drama, embrace the positive side of life, and breath...but that doesn't seem to be working too well for me lately. Any thoughts, suggestions, or extra good vibes you could spare for me? I greatly appreciate anything I can get at this point.

Plucking Flower Petals

He likes me....
He likes me not...
HE LIKES ME?!

Emails between me and Alaska seemed to have faded to non-existent. In October, we sent a dozen short messages back and forth. I (tried my damndest) to be casual and not make a big deal out of it (but, lets face it, inside I was screaming with excitement and the thought of "what could be" permeated my veins, I digress).

As spontaneous as the emails were when he first contacted me, POOF, he stopped responding.

I suppose this is to be expected when:

1. You really don't know each other
2. You live a country away from one another
3. It was just one night

I didn't lose sleep over it (which surprised me as much as I'm sure it surprises you). I moved on with my life...que serra serra.

And, just like before, POOF...My inbox alerts me to an email from him this past Saturday. Apologizing for not checking his email often. Saying he knows it's been a while since we've seen each other, and would love for me to send him some pictures...because, as long as it's been, he wants to see me again.

I am extremely cautious this minuscule internet-driven romance will go anywhere...I refuse to invest TOO much...but, damn. I like him. I like the small amount I know about him. I like that, even though some responses have taken a little long, he has kept responding. I like remembering back to that night...his eyes, lips, touch, and smell.

I like him.

Where to start...

I'm a minute away from asking my mom to go to counseling with me... Doesn't that sound like a basket of vomit? Yeah, I agree.



It's so frustrating to feel so completely disconnected from your parents, especially when they live within 20minutes from you, and are alive, breathing, but mentally unhealthy.



I have little to no common ground with either of my parents, but my relationship with my mom is ugly.



Passive aggressive. (read: I get my sarcastic whit from my father)



Bottled feelings. (read: the woman drinks...a lot)



I refuse to bring my son to her house on a regular basis because they regularly smoke...inside....and I wish it were just cigarettes.



I have moments like these a few times a year...where I feel emotionally beaten to a frustrated lump of a person. Eeyore syndrome flows through my veins uncontrollably. All I want to do is punch a few pillows, scream, then sink into my bed pulling the covers over my head... wishing, hoping and praying for a change in my life long failed relationship with my mom.



I need help relating to her. I need her to choose to quit drinking. I need her to choose to be a responsible grandmother, just as I've chosen to be a responsible parent. I need my mom to be a mom, and not a selfish 50 year old woman. I need to stop feeling so much resentment towards her.



Co-counseling feels like the only option I have left.



I've tried sitting down at her house, telling her my feelings. Shit hits the fan and nothing is accomplished. = fail.



I've tried meeting with her, one on one, in a public place. I always feel like there's light at the end of the tunnel...but when we follow through and attempt to "hang out" post serious discussion, she (literally) reverted to texting and wondering off to smoke. = fail.



I've tried to have shouting matches with her. = fail.



I've tried to explain myself through ugly crying. = fail.



Dammit I am so sick of trying.



But I will continue to try....hence, counseling. (is it horrible of me to hope and pray that her insurance will cover this?!)



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++



On a semi-unrelated note:



I am SOOOOOO ready for August to be OVER. It's been a great year, but good LORD August has kicked my rear upside down and backwards. So, here's to you, September, it took ya long enough to get here!!

My God.

I was born and raised catholic. Religion was force-fed down my throat from the time I was a baby.

"DO NOT SIN OR YOU WILL GO TO HELL"
"GO TO CHURCH EVERY SUNDAY OR YOU WILL GO TO HELL"
"READ THE BIBLE OR YOU WILL GO TO HELL"
"PRAY OR YOU WILL GO TO HELL"

Ok, not every sentence or spiritual directive said to me ended in go to hell, but that's the funny thing about Catholics...they have this uncanny way of ALWAYS making you feel like you will actually go to hell if you don't do this or don't believe that.

Enter my senior year of high school. I (OF COURSE) was confirmed. It was something I was more or less forced to do. The classes were fine, but my favorite part was having heated spiritual discussions so I guess I have my confirmation leader to thank for that.

Enter my early twenties. I rarely ever went to church. Then BOOM, I found myself 23 years old, pregnant and unmarried (GASP I AM GOING TO HELL). Of course my guilt lead me to tears many days, and when baby boy was four months old I attempted to go to church with my mother.

Biggest. Mistake. Ever.

Not only did I feel as if I didn't belong, I ugly cried the moment I got to the car after church was over. To me, being a spiritual person shouldn't have entailed making me feel that way. Ever.

Enter today. I have a new outlook on my life and the role religion (specifically spirituality) plays in it. I do not believe in the same ideas of Catholicism, or even Christianity (I can't wrap my head around how someone can worship a "so called man" who SUPPOSEDLY did all of these things. I can't wrap my head around a book that I whole heartily believe was made up hundreds of years ago to shut people up who were commoners and asking questions. I digress).

What do I believe?

I believe in Humanity. Show me a church or gathering that gets together to celebrate Humanity and I'm in.

People can do horrible things. I've witnessed many of these heinous acts firsthand...

People can also be absolutely amazing, unselfish, wonderful and uplifting. These amazing people are what I label as Humanity.

Humanity is my "God". Living by the Golden Rule* is my life (at least, living by the golden rule as best I can...).



*JUST in case you're unfamiliar, my Golden Rule is to treat others as if you would want to be treated. Period. The end.

Flexibility

I spend the majority of my days being flexible. Sure, I'll help with this or that around the office. Sure, I'll change my plans because baby boy is crabby, or was being well behaved, or needs to eat dinner. Sure I can wait for you because you're running thirty minutes behind schedule. Sure, I'll run out the door IMMEDIATELY because you're ahead of schedule.

People, I'm spent.

Treat people how you want to be treated...I get it. What I don't get is why people (baby boy excluded for obvious reasons) feel like it's alright to change things/plans/life ALL of the time when I'm involved. It's understandable if it happened once in a while...but, honestly, it happens when I'm involved ALL OF THE TIME. Today, last Sunday, last week.

I'm over it.

...and I need to get laid. (beacause you and I both know that will solve ALL OF THE WORLD'S PROBLEMS!!!!! ...and by ALL OF THE WORLD, I just mean mine).

I suck.

Yes, I'm still alive.

I don't like to apologize on a blog...but I feel the need to apologize for my absence! I had no clue I'd be missed, and really appreciate being checked-up on...it really was very sweet.

Why the absence? I couldn't think of what to write about next that I didn't feel like sharing on my other blog...although, given the time apart from here...I've got a couple of blog topics brewing!

Anything you want to hear about?

Any writing challenges for me?

I've missed all of you, and don't plan on disappearing anytime soon!!

Turning Back Tuesday's

Prom: it's a moment in almost every high school seniors life when they spend copious amounts of money, in hopes of having copious amounts of fun, after consuming copious amounts of alcohol. Since JR didn't work out to swell for me, I resorted in being asked to my own prom by a guy I had known since middle school. He was nice, and had the potential to be cute if it weren't for his hair that he INSISTED on parting down the middle of his head, hence the Butt Part dude, or BP as I'll refer to him as.

Typically, you take your boyfriend to prom. Not this chick. I took a BP, nothing more than a friend and nothing less. Dinner was nice...expensive, but nice. The dance was held in a giant old building in downtown Saint Paul. The building almost overshadowed the dance...but it is what it is. The entire time we were there, I felt like I was babysitting my date. Since he didn't know anyone, I felt obligated to sit next to him, to try and make him feel included. I wasn't extremely successful...thank goodness we headed to a friends' cabin afterwards to get wasted ;)

The cabin was just the right distance away. Far enough where we were out of earshot of any local authorities, but not too far where it only took us an hour to get there. I would safely say about 20 of us were there, somehow armed with a lot-o-booze.

Since I wasn't too much of a drinker, I stayed mostly sober (which turned out to be a great thing). High school inexperience led one of my classmates to drink scotch as if it were apple juice. The next thing I knew, his lips were purple and I was practically shoving his own hands down his throat to make him throw up. I sat next to him the entire night, making sure he was staying conscious so he wouldn't die. Literally, looking back after years of drinking under my belt, we were all very lucky nothing serious had happened to this kid.

Long story short, a night which was supposed to be magical left me feeling on the outside of things, babysitting my date at the dance, then babysitting a classmate of mine at the after-party. I don't know about you, but it seems to me like I was meant to mother. Go figure I am now 25 and a single mom!

Surviving Quiet Nights

My single self has been stuck in survival mode since the moment I found out I was going to be a single parent (going on three plus years). I'm starving for male attention. Hence: Single Girl Survival Mode.

I tend to spend most evenings alone. No worries, this isn't a bitch session about poor single me, it's just the facts. When you have a two year old you need to be at home, and he needs a schedule.

My friends who could keep me company fall into one of four categories categories:
1) Single but live a good drive away (and by good drive, I mean 20-30 minutes one way)
2) They live with their boyfriend/gf
3) Our friendship is more of an acquaintance, and doesn't entail hanging out one-on-one
4) All of the above

My Single Girl Survival tactics* during the week are fairly consistent:
~ Pick up my son from daycare (school, if you will)
~ Get home and try to whip up something for dinner
~ Give him a bath/put him to bed
~ Sit on the couch and mentally check out while watching horrible reality television and/or a nighttime drama
~ Go to bed to wake up the next morning, and repeat

The weekends are a WHOLE different story. I don't have a schedule, so mere chaos always seems to be looming around the next corner. My only saving grace is I've become accustomed to being alone. My son is small enough where he can't fully hold a conversation with me. Let's be real, it's going to be about 15 years before he will WANT to have an adult conversation with me...kids have to be kids.

Here's where there's a twist in my plot. I've been TRYING to date. I've been TRYING to put myself out there...and I feel like I'm suffering from the syndrome of "If you give a mouse a cookie". I've been on a few dates with a man I'll call Tall Boy (TB). It's the first time in a long time I've felt butterflies in my stomach. It's scary, exciting, and refreshing to see him. However, it's the first time I've formally dated a guy and it makes the nights I'm alone feel that much more lonely. What a catch-22, eh?

*Supplies needed for SGST include but are not limited to:
Ice Cream
Chocolate
Batteries for your remote
A charged cell phone
A TV Guide if you haven't memorized the weekly television lineup