Not okay

You want real? I'll give you real.

No, I'm not okay!

Someday I hope I will be able to say that I am. 

Unfortunately, this case I've attached at the bottom of this post is another instance of justice letting down people who badly need it, like me, and the timing is bad. Do you know how brave you have to be to report rape? It's terrifying. Look at how our society-and the world-portrays victims of rape! It's a courageous, terrifying act to report something so violating. It must certainly be rare to report false allegations, yet our government would like to treat almost all of them as such. Who would EVER put themselves through that torture and speculation?

I don't care what this man's skin color is. Our system doesn't always care, either (contrary to what you may hear) because at the end of the day, it's the victim's statement versus the accused's. More often than not, those charges are lessened when/if they cut a deal, too, which is equally nauseating. And thats IF the prosecuting attorney even bothers to try to get the charges to stick!! Thanks, mother "justice." INFURIATING.

"Only three in a hundred rapists in America will ever see justice for their crimes – and it’s clear that the justice system is heavily biased against the survivors of these heinous assaults and designed to let white men walk free for their crimes."

I'm fucking pissed because this is PERSONAL. Every woman and and every man who has an ounce of empathy should also feel that this is personal.

'Survivors of sexual assault face serious psychological consequences, which are a direct extension of the harm the perpetrator commits against them. Survivors are at an increased risk for depression, PTSD, sleep disorders, eating disorders, dissociation, self harm, substance abuse, and suicide. We must see that the assaults Enochs committed go beyond a single night of terror for his victims and reach far into their futures, with repercussions that touch the most vital pieces of a woman’s identity...'

This could've been my write up. This is me. This is my life.

Many "survivors" don't feel like survivors, and it takes YEARS to get to a point where they can start to function in a forward, positive direction. 

And what of the abusers? They walk away with zero remorse and a slap on the wrist. 

http://occupydemocrats.com/2016/06/28/indiana-university-rapist/

Big Changes

Change is inevitable when you undergo trauma. It either affects you in a negative way and blankets you in darkness, or you find a light within yourself and make it burn. 

I have experienced a rainbow of emotions and hardships since my journey to Hawai'i and last year's trauma was the worst of it. I didn't come here to vacation, however, and despite all of the trials, I have made a survivor out of myself. 

Sometimes it is easier to stay in bed for a week and take vacation days feigning the flu, when it's really terrible depression. Sometimes I don't want to see or hear another person because I can't stand myself, let alone anyone else. But like the tide, life ebbs and flows. Bouts of depression fade and the sun is one of the most constant things on this transient island of tourists. Beach therapy occasionally works; great friends pull me from my lair as I make up a million excuses why I shouldn't go with, and we sit in the sun or float on the waves with beers and zebra ring floaties, pretending that life really is easy.

Of course Monday still comes back or vacation days run out, but if I were to choose to be depressed from all of the shit I've been through in Minnesota or Hawai'i, I would always choose here. Being away from family is incredibly difficult and riddles me with guilt, but I have grown in enormous ways that I don't think would have been possible had I stayed there. Trauma happens everywhere, so being a mile from home wouldn't have necessarily wiped it from my destiny. I am a statistic now, but I am still choosing to fight against becoming a different sort of statistic. I want to continue to be a fighter and a surviver instead of a victim. All of those could've/would've/should've's can shut the hell up.

So, that trauma: the hardest part a year later is seeing all of the wasted energy that I put into people and things that didn't deserve it; trauma shakes you awake and pumps you full of clarity. I am now conscious of my failures as much as I am conscious of those who have failed me. I am aware of how those around me either go through life half-asleep, or whether they, too, have been awakened. It's sort of an alternative reality that I've been placed into, for better or for worse. Sometimes the PTSD comes back in weird ways and disrupts my routine, embarrassing me and causing me great stress. I have a shitload of anxiety, but some of that was there before. 

Like anyone, we all have our cross to bear. Unfortunately most people never show their cross, especially when it's mental illness or something deeply personal like what I experienced. It's just too hard to face the critics even when I know I shouldn't be listening to them. How do I know? Because I've lost friends over this: people I thought were there for me decided they were not. That's super hard. So I don't talk about all of this openly anymore. Sadly. It is nice to meet others on rare occasions who have also gone through or are going through similar situations. We can instantly look into each other's eyes and know. That's powerful. And I am learning that those "friends" that couldn't be there for me don't matter anymore, but it still stings. I have tried hard in my life not to hold grudges, but that is challenging.

I am on a mission now to find more fulfillment in my daily work, something that has been missing for years. I'm sure I would've continued on struggling had it not been for this jolt. Perhaps it is the horrible ugliness of humanity letting me down that has caused my fervor, but it is a good and necessary thing for me to explore other avenues and find something that makes me happy 9-5. Night school on top of my 40-hour work week has proven exhausting in the first week but I am hoping that after the initial shock of the new schedule, it won't feel so hard. I am happier inside my head than I have felt in a very long time. I go to work every morning feeling hopeful and rejuvenated, with something at the end of my day to look forward to. I have had two separate work appointments in the past week where the people asked if I love my job, which I can only imagine means that my outward appearance reads that I am extremely happy (no one needs to know it isn't my current 8-5 making me happy, right?) I know that even if this new venture ends up being hard work, it will feel more meaningful than what I am currently doing. I will feel a sense of value about myself that I have not yet experienced. 

Being stripped of all of your self-esteem and robbed of something extremely personal and valuable changes you inside and out. Rebuilding will take years. "Trust" is something I used to do too easily, and now I trust very few, and even them with caution. It is a scary and lonely place to be. I am grateful for my new path to explore, for the ability to reach out to family and friends and have them say, "yes, we believe in you." Change can be very scary, even to an adventurous world traveler! I struggle with the thought of knowing I will never be that carefree girl I was a year ago that believed in the good in everyone, but also know that I've gained some tremendous wisdom and perspective. 

Always look for the positives, even in the darkest of corners.

Big Little Kids, Playing on the Beach

It was just before dinnertime after the annual sk808 tournament in Hawaii, and a few of America's derby legends from across the nation were gathered on a small beach called Cromwell's just past Diamond Head on Oahu. I don't know how I grew to be so fortunate to be there, but I was. These are my favorite moments in life.

"Calamity, Demanda found an eel!," exclaimed my derby wife, Pussy GoScore.

I dropped my belongings in a heap next to her and took off towards the shoreline. I had never seen a live eel before. Did they bite? Were they big? I had to see one. Demanda Riot was knee-deep in the water among the coral shorebreak, one hand balancing on a boogie board and the other carefully holding her signature dreadlocks in a spiral on the top of her head away from the water. Her face was submerged beneath the surface as she waded delicately. As I walked out towards her, I wasn't entirely sure if she was stalking the eel, or if I was going to step on it by accident. When she saw me, she stood up and offered me the face mask.

"Check it out."

I had to keep my cool. Demanda was a derby legend, after all. I couldn't show fear. I didn't know if eels bit off toes or faces, but I was willing to take my chances in this moment because, duh: EEL. I buried my head in the water to look directly at a large Moray eel glaring wide-mouthed out from a coral formation, his beady eyes looking straight into mine. He looked like he was waiting for his photoshoot but I didn't have a camera. I took a zillion mental snapshots of this bizarre sea creature. The eerie feeling of knowing this fishy thing was capable of damage and not exactly knowing what sort of danger I was putting myself in was an interesting 30-seconds of adrenaline. I can't imagine having a run-in with a shark while scuba diving. I'll stick with eels.

I handed the mask back to Demanda, but she said I could keep it because she was going up on top of the big rock nearby to look for other stuff. I ventured on in search of other weirdness. It occurred to me as my ears fell silent that while I was submerged underwater I was temporarily in another world. A parallel universe, almost, completely separate from my M-F worries at the office and all of the stress that was happening day to day. I could seriously escape by putting my face in the ocean. This seemed like a pretty silly epiphany because it wasn't a new experience to be in the ocean, but I was digging it especially at this moment. I kept looking for coral and pretty rocks. I became an 8

Meanwhile down the beach, Ivanna, Trish the Dish, Quadzilla, Pussy GoScore, and a few others were sunning and playing in the tide pools. Ivanna found a sea cucumber and squirted it all over Quadzilla. I approached the towels as the sun started to set and Pussy mentioned how awesome Team Green was, referring to her team's jerseys from the tournament earlier that day. I decided to make her at one with "green" by pushing her into the nearby bushes. She really landed really good in the middle of them, which was funny and also caused a backlash of sand wrastling in good fun. We tossed each other a few times rolypoly until we were both covered from head to toe and in a fit of giggles. I almost peed. We joyfully went into the ocean to get the beach off of us. Then we heard Ivanna.

"Uh oh. Look at Amanda. How much do you wanna bet it's something dead?"

Further down the shoreline was a very proud Amanda Jamitinya accompanied by Dirty Verde. She marched towards us all, dangling a long, somewhat stiff object in her right hand. If it were anyone else I would think it was a stick she was holding, or maybe some seaweed... but I knew Amanda well enough to remember that she was a taxidermy hobbyist and heavily interested in roadkill. Still, like a car accident, we all had to see what she had in her hand. As if caught in a trance, walked towards her. We gathered around her in a circle.

"It's an eel! A DEAD eel!"

Ivanna wanted to touch it. Dish didn't. Now Ivanna's hands smelled bad. Put your hands in the sand. Pussy wanted to know if it could bite. Quadzilla thought it was nasty. Dirty Verde laughed. Amanda showed us how to make the mouth open and close, and we took turns touching it's rubbery skin. Ivanna took the eel from Amanda and started chasing Dish down the beach, threatening to touch her with it, then turned it on us. We sprayed in different directions, forgetting for a second that it was dead.

"It's not alive!" she reminded us. We gathered around it again. The eel was our beacon.

Amanda said it was important to pay tribute to the eel.

"Everyone make a wish."

She paused for a moment, then whisked the dead eel out over the surf towards the horizon line, the body helicoptering around in a symbolic ouroboros as it reached towards the point of the ocean meeting the sky.

"Goodbye, Mr. Eel," she said.

We turned to the right to watch the sun as it began it's descent, dipping low towards every photographer's ideal sunset.

Ivanna turned to us and insisted that we wait for the green flash.

We waited.

I didn't see it, but someone said it was there.

Just a group of big little kids, playing on the beach. Time suspended, all of our worldly concerns lost in the mist of sea and sky and sand.

New Year. Good Grief, I'm Glad.

So... 2014 was not a good year for me. I will say that there were some highlights, and I will positively list them first:

• Successfully did not get fired from my job
• Checked "See a live Volcano" off my bucket list
• Visited my family in Minnesota/Traveled
• Helped with my brother's film production doing character makeup, and was an extra in, Underland II, The Rise of Grout
• Helped with my sister-in-law's Yoga Calm camp, and took a 1 week workshop towards being certified as a Yoga Calm instructor
• Conducted two successful 3-month long fresh-meat derby new girl boot camps to help secure the future of my league
• Volunteered for the first time as a Voting Official at my precinct on election day
• Led Team Hawaii as Captain into battle at the first annual State Wars Roller Derby Tournament in Daytona, Florida
• Successfully trained for and completed my first full marathon--the Honolulu Marathon

This year, something horrible happened to me in May that is actually too personal and heartbreaking to even talk about, and it will challenge me for years to come-maybe for the rest of my lifetime. I am working hard with a therapist on this setback, to change this horrific event into just that... an event...instead of something that defines me. With this event came some trials of friendships, and the losses of those friendships that were not truly friends to begin with. You really learn who your friends are when you need them most and finally lean back. If they are there for you, they are your friends. If they are not, they were never friends, I guess. Some of those people were steadfast and helped me out a lot. I am very grateful to those people. I don't know if there is a way to repay them, so hopefully I will be able to pay it forward to someone else if I am never able to give back to them individually in some way.

Loss, in many ways, in 2014. Loss of a great college friend to cancer, loss of my dignity, loss of "friendships." But with loss comes room for growth, and I am learning all the time.

I didn't party on New Year's this time. I couldn't wait for it to be over. I cried and was miserable in my pity party for a few hours until I forced myself to get up, put on my dragon pajamas, and drink a few gin and tonics. Because New Year's eve comes and goes, and that bad year is gone and has opened up a new space for new beginnings. Cheers to new beginnings, universe.

When There is Sadness, There Are Song Lyrics

Fucking cancer. I just hate it. I hate that it stole away everything he had, and left everyone he knew with so much heartache. My heart burns with love and sadness from all of the memories I have to try to save forever, never realizing how valuable they would be. They are all I have of him now. I didn't know how important it would be to play on his indoor soccer team every season or I would've done it more than once. I didn't know how lucky I was to be invited to all of his parties or I would've gone to all of them. If I had known his life would be so short, I wouldn't have pissed away so many of our plans. I'm angry at myself for not paying better attention. Do we all feel that way about people after they have died? I'm afraid of everything else I have missed in life from all of the other people I care about. Will I regret missing everything else, too? I'm sorry for everything I have missed. I can't take it back. I wish I could have been there more. Or maybe I couldn't possibly have been there more, and I need to accept that.

Today it was the band Bastille that rocked my world, dried my tears long enough to go back to work, and helped me see perspective and light when I learned Aaron had died. It was the only thing that made me feel better.

Bastille
Weight of Living, Pt. II: All This Bad Blood

I can't say the words aloud
so in rhyme I wrote you down
now you'll live through the ages
I can feel your pulse in the pages
I have written you down now
and all the world will read you
I have written you down now
you will live forever
in eyes not yet created
on tongues that are not born
you will live forever
forever

Tears on my Keyboard this morning

Roughly ten years ago, we were going to music festivals together and making out in a tent. He was devastatingly handsome and I was not sure I was worthy.

We met through a college friend (that I still think is awesome, surprisingly) and the three of us had wild and sporratic adventures that were never much planned but always fun. We had stupid fun, with childish trips to ValleyScare and XFest, house parties and late night sprinkler runs. Even when he got a steady pain-in-the-ass girlfriend and started needing more relationship advice and meaningful talks about life than a drinking buddy, he remained in good humor. We connected. We took our dogs to obedience school together and they almost got expelled (actually, his was a dropout). We were real friends, the kind of friend where when you see each other again after years have passed, you're still at ease and nothing has affected that bond. He made me believe that we didn't have to grow up.

Except now we do have to grow up, because he's dying from the brain tumor that is killing him, the one that knocked him in his ass 3 years ago and stole everything. He squeezed as much as he could out of those last few years; he immediately married a pretty awesome lady and had a son, and did what he could to make sure he was fighting like hell. But Cancer is Cancer. 35 is way too early to say goodbye and leave the party. 35 is still the age of weddings and babies and astronomical mortgages, of career changes and waking up to politics, of a few failed relationships, class reunions, or maybe some crazy adventures to cool countries. It's the peak before the decline.

Aaron, you're the one that got away.

Life is a gift, albeit brief. Cancer can be a love story if it is done with strength and weathered by two people who have enough faith in what is within them and beyond them. Here is their story. I hope seeing the documentary when it is completed helps to bring me closure. Right now I can't find any in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

When Cancer is a Love Story

The Circle

I've written this same paragraph before. I'm trying to write this one with intent and staying power.


I dated a guy on and off for 6 years. We finally ended it, and I've been single for about a year. I tried dating a few times on the "breaks" from him, but it never lasted long. I guess the real problem was the emotional abuse. Now that I know what was happening and I'm getting a ton of therapy, I recognize it. When you're in it, it's a lot harder to realize what's going on and why you feel so bad about yourself all the time. It's really tough, especially in our age range when most of our friends are married off with families and you're back to square one if you end things with whoever you're seeing... And so you stay, thinking it might get better if you try to communicate better or avoid certain topics, try harder to please your partner, stay away from the land mines.The more I read about this stuff, the more I understand that part of the reason for staying in that relationship all those years was what is called relationship investment... years "vested" into a particular person. But clearly it wasn't a great investment... I just kept thinking that he would come around and want to settle down, have a family, etc. 

Wrong. Clearly. 

Again the optimist, seeing only the good and ignoring all of the red flags that indicated he was not the type of guy I was looking for. It's really hard to let go and walk away, especially when you love the person and genuinely want them to also be happy. 

Only age and wisdom allows you to understand that sometimes the biggest way to show someone you love them is to say goodbye, and good luck, and I won't try to make you be who you are not.

I bought the moped to replace a broken heart and a failed relationship. I named her FREEDOM.

Defeat Before the Gun

So... this weekend was supposed to be my first attempt at a 1/2 marathon. I failed.

After a 3-week chest cold that took the wind out of my sails, I kept my determination in place to run it... but on Thursday night my health dictated otherwise. Three solid days of migraines left me bedridden and dehydrated, so I followed a good friend's advise and didn't go to the race. My heart wanted to, but my body did not. I will look at this as a lesson in listening to my body and not pushing beyond sanity. I will never finish a marathon if I don't ensure my physical soundness.

I hate having to quit or admit defeat, but life goes on. I will train now for the 1/2 marathon in Kauai on August 31st and pretend this was just a minor setback.

Honolulu Marathon countdown: 243 days

After the Storm Comes... Sunshine

I haven't written in a few months due to things in life that I needed to tend to, mainly my sanity.

After my boss quit, the secretary quit, and I quit chasing a man that was never going to be emotionally available, I hit the lows. Anxiety to the extreme and a heavy dose of depression. Life was bad. My days were bad. Stress was a key component of every work day. Even derby was irritating and riddled with drama! I couldn't seem to escape the negativity all around me.

But the sun rises, sets, rises again.

And months later, I am still alive. Things are slowly getting better. I don't want to lie in bed in the dark on my off days, and I've even cleaned my house a few times and done my laundry on occasion. All in all, I am functioning like a normal human being. I have made progress with my therapy sessions and I have come to the end of my 5-year plan that I had set out to accomplish waaaaaaay back in Minnesota. Now I must set the goals for my next 5 years! This brings me to my 5-yr plan list, in no particular order.

1) Buy a moped.

Walking around the city and taking the bus everywhere has it's charm, but I'm hella tired of lugging groceries home by foot or by transit. It's lame and inconvenient. I got a big tax return check and plan to rectify this daily inconvenience.

I would like this.

I can afford this.

2) Do something else.

Today, as a matter of fact, I had my informational interview with the Mark Takai for Congress campaign and will be starting in with them to assist with fieldwork operations starting on April 1st. I need to do something that has me meeting people (particularly men) that does not involve a society of stinky women or snobby art workers. Time to kick it up a notch and begin the long road to...


3) Run for public office.


Being a curator in the arts is cool and all, but not when you deal with aggravating state co-workers on a daily basis. I love art and love portions of my position, but let's face it... I'm just not anal retentive enough to catch all the details involved with museum work. The parts where I am in the community servicing public sites and nominating art for purchase are amazing and I love them. The actual museum part I want to stop doing as soon as possible. I can easily find a better way to help out the arts in this State than working my current position. I am good at being a public servant, have campaign volunteer experience, and I think I could do a lot of good for this State on multiple platforms. Step one is learning about campaigns and learning Honolulu's districts and major running issues. Step two is research. These will lead to step three: running for office.

4) Run a marathon.

As I've already disclosed in a previous post, I've signed up to run the Honolulu Marathon next fall. I am still on track and training. I've had a little bit of a knee issue lately, but can regularly run 6 miles and have already completed a 10 mile race and an 8 mile race. Next up is the Hapalua in April, a 1/2 marathon on the same course as the full. Stoked to be getting into this sport I never thought I would like! Sometimes I surprise myself. I need better shoes, though, and soon.

5) Clean up my diet.

I am still eating garbage on occasion and could definitely afford to clean things up. Easier said than done. I think I still have some self-loathing tendencies that need to be worked out and will continue to work on this in therapy.

6) Find a better boyfriend, or at least date better men.

I'm done with being shit on regularly and putting up with way more abuse than I should ever tolerate. Selfish, egotistical, emotionally unavailable men are no longer on the menu. I've been searching on several online dating sites, but it could take a while. I have some great stories about this and will save them for a later blog post!

Just one of many awesome first emails.

7) Volunteer. Give back in some capacity.

There are many beautiful things that have gone my way in life, and many things I miss that I still had. One is my dog. A way to remedy the hole in my heart is to volunteer at the Humane Society of Honolulu! I have signed up and will do my orientation training on April 19th to become an animal massage therapist and behavioral trainer. I am beyond stoked. Going to the dog parks with my good friend and her dog has been therapeutic, but this way I can help out a bunch of animals that are in distress. I am really looking forward to this.


8) Get married in the next 5 years, and have a baby.

I think it's a reasonable goal to set for the next 5 years. Marriage may not be necessary, but why not make it be in the goal? I'm not doing that shit alone on purpose! lol
Life is short, the clock is ticking. I am looking into freezing my eggs. Sounds pretty Star Trekish, but I'm being realistic: at 36, I'm just now looking (in a healthy mindset) for a life mate that will want to have a child together. It will likely take a few years to do so, and I need to preserve my eggs while they're still in good shape. Hopefully my future husband is a doctor or makes more money than me, because I'm growing weary of living in a small closet-sized apartment.


9) See Nepal, India, Cambodia, Thailand, or all of them.

This is sort of a continuation of my last 5 year plan goals; my travel plans didn't really pan out. Although I saw parts of Australia and 4 islands of Hawaii, I haven't made it to the East as I intended. I will have to work on making this happen. These are my friend's photos... I would like to take my own.

 

10) Figure out what to do about Derby.

I have been playing derby for 8 years now, and my joints are starting to protest. I need to figure out how to transition out of playing into more of a coaching/instruction capacity. The problem is that I still love playing so much! I am taking on a lot of responsibility for our league right now and am heavily invested. I just don't know how to get out. This is where list item number 7 comes in... the ultimate derby injury. Muahahaha!




Okay, so that's 10 list items to accomplish in the next 5 years. Ambitious, rewarding, and ultimately character building. I am already getting a start on them and look forward to seeing how things unravel :) One thing I have learned in life is that things rarely go as planned.

Hold Fast, the Storm is Here!

My career is crazy. My boss resigned due to conpiracy over copyright infringement and an astounded Hawaiian community that took offense to her role within our organization. As she makes her way out (slowly, to burn up her sick leave time), she is meeting with news reporters to slander our organization and misdirect the blame back onto our agency and its employees. It has been an extremely turbulent year at the foundation, and I am amazed at how much commotion has been stirred up since I started. I am lying low and hoping to salvage what I can during this time, and luckily the employees here are coming together in unity to uphold the integrity of the organization. I've never experienced anything like this before. I don't like reporters calling me at work. Pretty wild! Haha

My new singledom is slowly starting to get a little easier, thanks to therapy and a new exercise routine; I have been running every other day for several weeks now, starting it off with a bang by running a Thanksgiving 10 miler without training. Ouch! Since I somehow managed to finish that one, I figured it was as good of a time as ever to make it happen for myself and build on that momentum. I'm on an 8 week program that will steadily increase my distance and speed capacity through steady and interval training workouts. By the end of the 8 weeks, I should be able to swiftly handle 1-hour runs and be a more comfortably fit. The stress of life in all of its many forms have really gotten a hold of me, and I am to the point where I must fight back.

Being single feels similar to what it felt like to be in a relationship with the Writer, since I have the same routine minus spending time with him after work. Since he isn't friends with my social circle and we don't work together, his absence in my life comes mostly at night in the dark loneliness of my apartment. Bunnies are not snuggly like dogs and cats, so I've been making Christmas ornaments and watching copious amounts of Law & Order. I try to get out and do fun stuff on the weekends and reach out to friends when the loneliness feels overwhelming. Somehow it is hard to accept that we are truly in this life as individuals and must be comfortable with just ourselves...somewhere along the way I was led to believe that I must have a partner to weather the storm of dark days, and that independence was only acceptable until age 30. As I have watched all of my girlfriends marry off and spawn, I wonder what fate has in store for me in the next few years. I wonder if being a single mother is a silly idea to entertain, and if I am instead meant to adopt 4 dogs and live in this tiny 500-sq ft apartment until my retirement years, or if better things are in store for me.

Perhaps we are all dissatisfied to a certain degree with the cards we have been dealt, and life is more importantly about humbling ourselves to accept that in which we are lucky enough to get. I have 1st world problems in relation to what others in the world face on a daily basis, and I try to ground myself in that whenever I can remember to.

On my living room buffet, I have a statue of the buddha sitting under a silver tinsel tree with blue ornaments. I am a walking contradiction of life experiences and beliefs. I am me (I am by myself), but I am surviving. I need to concentrate on day to day but also start working on what is down the road, as time ticks on, never ending. A race against the clock could possibly be more of a challenge than a race of miles to run, so at this point training for a Marathon doesn't seem too out of reach.

Back In the Saddle, But My Horse Is a Little Lame

I might've felt sick and had a small panic attack at the mall in front of one of those hair-straightening kiosks run by Russians yesterday while I was waiting for my plenty of fish bachelor to show for our scheduled first date. And I cried. Full on tears.  Then the Russians straightened my locks and tried to sell me $650 human hair extensions to feel better.

I was afraid of the "date," but not necessarily because of who this person was that I would meet for the first time; I was afraid of having to move on. Fearful of moving forward and to having to actively seek out a fulfilling partner that meets my needs. It feels inherently selfish and uncomfortable. I don't like thinking about what I need. I am used to thinking only about what other people need, so anything having to do with making myself happy is challenging. It is hard to let go of what is familiar and comfortable even when it damages me in the long run. Change is hard. Meeting new people is hard. This whole ordeal is so hard, I just want to give up.

And I have. Over and over again, and I've run back to the guy who will accept me and all of my giving ways because his world revolves around him and his needs, and I do a damn fine job of fulfilling those for him. But it's not enough for me anymore, and it's not fair to me, and everyone else who knows me tells me so. Do you think that changes my desire to run back to him? Nope. Not at all. It just makes me withhold information, isolate my private life from all of my family and friends, and take the regular emotional abuse as a side affect for his domineering behavior that allows me to not concentrate on myself. I am aware it has to stop and that it is severely damaging my self-esteem and my future by staying with him, so it would be fantastic if people stopped telling me how bad he is for me. Let me instead concentrate on the bigger issue at hand, which is why I have so much self-loathing going on that I would rather avoid my own needs altogether. That's fucked up.

Certain things happen in life that make us have a skewed perception of reality and our purpose. This is the effect of environmental factors and human interactions, and it is what makes us all have unique perspectives and experiences. Although I had plenty of great things shape who I am today (and an extremely loving, supportive family), I had several events happen at a young age that taught me I wasn't good enough, I wasn't pretty enough, and there was something wrong with my body. Guess what? No matter how many times someone tells me that isn't true, that I am smart and beautiful and perfect the way I am, IT DOES NOT CHANGE MY CORE BELIEFS. Those are instilled like computer hardware. I am working on it. It is taking a lot of time to get through. This is why psychologists have jobs.

I look at the simple fact I was able to break the pattern of this recent 5 year cycle for long enough to go on one date with a new man as a small victory. Don't pity me or feel bad that it didn't end up being a perfect match... instead, be happy for me that I went on the date and recognized that he wasn't a good fit for me. I have a telling history of falling hard and blindly for the first man who shows strong interest in me upon being recently single, so it is truly a beautiful thing to see the pouring in of text messages from this one guy, from our one date, totally wanting to hook up, and to know that it is not going to be a good fit for me. To know, with confidence, that our goals do not line up and there is no need to draw this out over another 5 years. I am proud of myself today for recognizing that.

Maybe with each failed attempt at dating I will learn more about how much I have to offer, and how important it is to respect myself. Last night I wore bright lipstick because I'm a grown-ass lady, and today is a good day, despite my migraine. Don't cry for me, Argentina.

Toxic Relationships

Fully recognizing that I'm in a toxic relationship in a looping pattern, I am re-posting this for my own reference. Recognition is one thing, getting out is quite another. How do you leave someone you love?

Solutions for a Toxic Relationship.

Via Tracy Crossleyon Aug 12, 2013

Soulmate relationships turned toxic are an opportunity to grow.

In a soulmate relationship there’s an intense feeling of connection and more than likely an inability to disengage from that person…even if it’s over or they need space. We just can’t let go, move on or get a grip on ourselves.

The way to feeling empowered is to get our power back, no matter what happens in the relationship.

In each of the tips described below, the outcome isn’t meant to change the relationship, it’s meant to allow someone an opportunity to grow and create a healthier relationship with ourselves.

The goal is for self-realization, greater confidence and building self-esteem.

Tips on how to use your toxic soulmate relationship as a growth experience:

1. Take control of you.

Stop giving away your power to your mate.

They don’t know what to do with it and it’s how you help to create a toxic environment. It’s not easy, but speak your truth—even if it scares the crap out of you. Do it and you’ll become more confident, especially when your focus is not the outcome. It’ll more than likely also create a different response from your soulmate too.

2. You create boundaries.

In your heart, you know the standards you want to live by, it takes courage to speak them and put them into action. In a soulmate situation, we may just accept what is crappy and not live into our own standards.

There’s no reason to be offensive or disrespectful to your soulmate when declaring your boundaries.

First, get clear on what you absolutely cannot tolerate, what are your non-negotiables?

Be honest and listen to your truth.

Knowing your truth and expressing it, equals vulnerability. It’s your true strength. No need to overpower or win, you’re just establishing a few ground rules on how you need to be treated. You may or may not receive respect for your boundaries, but when you stick to em’, embrace how good you feel!

If you can do this in a relationship of this intensity, you can do it anywhere.

3. If you keep doing the right thing, acting the right way and are programmed by other people’s thoughts about what you should do, stop!

There’s no greater cost then doing the right thing for the wrong reasons.

When your strategy is to kill your soulmate with kindness; give into what you assume they want from you or go out of your way for them just to gain their approval or their love, you can stop now.

It’s manipulation and the other person is aware. They will be more resistant to you. It doesn’t work and it makes you feel worse. Instead, start treating yourself to small acts of kindness. Do things for you, which engender your own love, kindness and warmth. It makes a difference.

Gain clarity on the beliefs you have about yourself, understand somewhere along the way you picked up the idea that you deserved this treatment. The intensity you feel with this person is actually the familiarity of what you grew up with and what you believe about yourself—t’s self-induced. Even if the other person feels intense too; it’s about old stuff.

4. Don’t feel shame, please realize you’re human.

Not a super hero. You may stay in an untenable situation, because you have a perfect dream. And well-meaning friends and family can make you feel worse for your inability to leave.

We want this soulmate to fit that perfect dream. It’s time to deconstruct the dream. Nothing is perfect and relationships aren’t fairy tales.

Make a commitment to see the relationship through to your emotional end. It’s not a mistake. Meaning, use this time to dig deep and realize your humanness, your lovability, your needs and the three previous tips. Stay with it (unless there is physical abuse), until you have a complete understanding of how you landed here in the first place.
Use the relationship for learning how to have a deeper acceptance of yourself.

Self-acceptance is key to a healthy relationship and there is something keeping you in a relationship in which you are rejected in some way, so be Sherlock Holmes and figure out why.

5. Your mate is a mirror; use the reflection to find answers.

You’ve probably heard what you don’t like in yourself is reflected in others.

It’s true.

Unfortunately, in a toxic soulmate relationship, it’s more about insecurities. Your insecurities are mirrored right back at you, Big Time!

If you don’t trust your mate, it’s probably the same for them, but they may exhibit it in a different way than you.

You may be outrageously jealous, and they may cheat—abandonment and distrust guaranteed! You set up these situations over and over until you gain self-awareness.

Why are you here?

What is the benefit in being in a relationship with someone who makes your insecurities feel out of control?

There’s always a benefit. It may be that you really fear a real commitment, so your imperfect soulmate keeps you safe from having to show up and be emotionally present in a relationship.

Get clear on your insecurities. If you don’t trust your mate, ask yourself what you don’t trust about you.

It’s really about you not trusting yourself to handle the disappointment of whatever your soulmate says or does. You live in the anticipation and yet the fear of disappointment.

These tips will help you to establish and create your best relationship yet…with yourself. As you become healthier, the intensity will fade; the attachment, and feeling like you can’t breathe without them will also decrease.

In its place will be more confidence, happiness, peace and openness…a true space of freedom where real love can be expressed and lived fully.

The Tumor

For those that know me and those that only know me slightly (or not at all), I'm going through a hard time.

"The Writer," my long term on-again/off-again boyfriend, has a brain tumor that has returned for the third time in the past year. His moods are irregular and vary from fearful to angry to confused and frustrated. He is a basketcase of emotions and highly eccentric. Sometimes I want to avoid him or run away forever, and sometimes I want to hug him and never let go. He is an incredibly beautiful person with a propensity towards isolation and depression, who has somehow, some way, allowed me into his world during the scariest time of his life. Throughout the time that we have known each other he has shared his life with me, shown me great love and compassion, taken care of me when I've been ill, cheered me up when nothing else would, takes me to beautiful restaurants, invites me as his +1 to exclusive events, teaches me more about world history and human behavior than any college professor, and has shared so many jokes and silly times with me that I seriously can't imagine my life without him. He is complicated and yet thoughtful, has manners and charm.  He has also said some terrible things to me and has treated me poorly... really, really poorly. His shortcomings and the rude things he has done to me often weigh on my mind, and I wonder why I continue to stay with someone who is often unpredictable and will not "commit" to me and give me the security of exclusivity, marriage, and children despite my proven loyalty and love. He is also very ill with a brain tumor on his pituitary gland.

I cannot walk away.

I love him deeply, I love him blindly, and I love him unconditionally.

No one is perfect.

The Writer is seriously imperfect. So am I. I have confided in him more thoroughly than any other boyfriend I've ever had, and the honesty between us is perhaps the most genuine part of our relationship. It doesn't make it easier to handle his lack of commitment and the insecurity of no future plans, however. And here we are, dealing with brain tumor #3.

Complexities of relationships are not unique, and when I see any married couple, I wonder if they will become part of the 50% that stays together or the 50% that doesn't, and of that 50% that does, how happy they will be in their marriage regardless of "sticking it out." As nothing in life is certain and commitment certainly is not (vows or no vows), I dwell on the imperfect and whether honesty is more important than the pipe dream of "happily ever after." Perhaps there is no such thing, and the fairy tale we are all fed from childhood on must finally be exposed by the reality of what truly exists. Am I better off knowing the Writer won't marry me (or likely anyone)? Knowing he is honest in wanting to be with me right now (and has for the past 5 years)? Or am I under the spell of dreams and denial, wishing and hoping that he will eventually change his mind?

It's all true.

As he goes through the mental anguish of his failing health and the suffering of perhaps never being able to live without health insurance and a stable job again, I muse over my own role in his life as well as my entire purpose of being. He currently plays an integral role in my own mental health for better or for worse, my own constant struggle for clarity in a fucked up world that consistently seems to disappoint me (perhaps I should not have expectations at all in life, but it is awfully human to have some). My health is also failing; it is most likely Fibromyalgia, which is also complicated and hard to describe. I wake up in chronic pain and wearily do my best to cope with migraines and the unlikelihood of every playing derby again, and I fear being alone and suffering, alone. I am afraid of waking up without anyone caring if I come to see them, without needing me in their life. My anxiety sometimes keeps me awake all night, fearing a lonely demise into the autumn of existence, and a cold winter. I am not young anymore, and my indecisiveness in having children is starting to decide for me. I am plagued by depressing thoughts on being a failure to myself, of not realizing my full potential. I wonder how much I truly have to give to anyone at this point and in this state, and I am grateful that I have the Writer to call on me. I hate how sick he is and that he is suffering, but I am grateful that he needs me.

When my aunt died, I secretly vowed to do right by myself and not hold back from that I wished to do and see and be, and now I am heavily critical on how well I'm doing at that. Have I let myself down? Am I living for myself, or for other people and their expectations for me? Am I happy? I have no idea anymore. I would like to be authentic. That's all I know.

I do know that life is a flash. I know that at any moment it's over. I am grateful I've had this many years, and hopefully I'll have at least as many more. But whose life is this? How do I know what I am supposed to be doing with myself? How do any of us know? Will I some day feel content with what I have, or is it human nature to always want more and never feel complete?

The Writer goes into surgery again soon to have the tumor removed again. I do not know if it will come back, or if he will ever be rid of it. I do not know if I will ever feel safe. I do not know if I will ever be comfortable with that.

The Waiting Game

I have a lot of love in my heart.

I guess failed relationships are life lessons to make us stronger. I know. I have been heartbroken so many times. People just don't always want to try, and it's also hard for both parties to grow at the same pace. Some people have poor examples of healthy relationships and don't know how to treat someone. Some think that relationships are temporary and disposable. Sometimes paths split and there is nothing that can be done. It's really about courage...some have it, most do not. Are you brave enough to trust and love, or are you too afraid to be vulnerable? These are questions I always wonder about and can see clear answers in past relationships of those too afraid to move forward. I get burned a lot because I am brave and keep trying. Quitting is rarely an option for me. But many of my exes were too afraid to trust, or too damaged to try. Nothing I can do about that. 

One of the greatest lessons that keeps surfacing is that I cannot be responsible for someone else and what they do/want. It's terribly hard. I hate it when someone I love walks away. 

But like a moth to the flame...I keep trying. 

My next love wears a dark mask. He will reveal himself at some point. Don't know when...but to abandon hope now leaves me with bad feelings, so I'm sticking with the hope.

How dull life would be without love!

A Story About Anxiety, Failure, and What Happens Next.

When I was an undergraduate, I had a banquet serving gig at a fancy restaurant. Two of my female co-workers and I decided it would be a great idea to open a business together and escape the restaurant industry. We plotted and planned over scotch on the rocks at our favorite after work dive bar for several months and opened up a tea house inside of my dad's gallery space on a shoestring budget. We all threw $500 in the pot as startup.

Everything was shiny and exciting until a few months in, when customers dwindled and our profits were absorbed into inventory expenses. Staffing the store hours also proved difficult, as we couldn't part our day jobs (and I was also still in school). Then, one of the partner's sisters died of anorexia, and she cut out of the agreement. 

Then there were two.

Another few months crept by, and I ended up absorbing much of the hours due to the family obligations of the other business partner. She had two twin boys and a jealous girlfriend who was unreliable with watching them. My business partner began nitpicking my father for the way he had his gallery displayed and ideas about how she thought the place should look to encourage our customers to stay. I tried supplementing our sales with live music nights and tea "salon" discussions, and "stitch n bitch" knitting nights, but in the end, I just couldn't run all of the hours myself. She bailed.

I was the last woman standing in the tea house.

It was really the end when I had a panic attack in my apartment over ants. Yes, ants. They were the thing I couldn't control. I couldn't get rid of them, there were so many of them, they were everywhere in my bathroom (okay, it was a trail of ants from behind the refrigerator in the kitchen... but I BELIEVED they were everywhere. It was very Salvador Dali-esque. I crawled into my bathtub and called my friend to come save me from the terrible insects. It was ridiculous, and terrifying, and completely irrational. I sobbed and shook in terror. I was completely overcome with grief and emotion.

Ants, it comes to be, are a big, enormous symbol in my life. A symbol of a problem that has taken over, of more than I can handle. Something overwhelming and frustrating and invasive, something that potentially has more survival instinct than I do in this crazy world (or so it seems, sometimes). In this moment of a complete meltdown, I am their host. I succumb to their marching, surrendering my apartment and all that lies outside my doors to their sticky little legs and clenching mandibles. I had to be coaxed out of the bathtub by the good friend. Therapy ensued. It would seem I had temporarily lost my mind, but really... I had lost control in my life at that point. I lost control over what I wanted to do and be. What was I doing? Whose life was I living? I was overly taxed, and something had to give. I could not sustain the amount of pressure that was weighing me down. I was drowning in commitments and expectations, in things I didn't even want for myself. 

My terror of ants was the fear of failure that filled my body with sand, the fear of my family's expectations and the fear of having to say to them that I had fought, but I had lost. My dad told me something that shocked me after that, and it brought all of that nonsense to rubble: he loved me for trying. He loved me whether I had a stupid tea house or not, so long as I was happy. My mother loved me, too, and they really didn't care about the teahouse. They took it over and converted it into a coffee house, and now my grandma runs it as a hobby.

My happiness was (and is) all my parents wanted for me. It really is that simple. 

Suddenly, life had clarity. 

I was free.

Meet Alice Pooper!

I got a bunny. Meet "Alice Pooper!"

I smuggled her to practice one Saturday so that she would go undetected by the property manager who was planning a visit! A camera bag fit her nicely. She went to stay with a friend who also has a bunny, but hers is much larger. Alice started "humping" her fixed male rabbit, much to both of our surprise! Further investigation revealed:

ALICE POOPER IS A BOY!!! 

No wonder he liked the ladies so much at Fresh Meat practice! Hahahaha

(the end)

Should I get a pet rabbit?

In the midst of my latest breakup crisis that remains slightly undefined even though it is painfully obvious that we have irreconcilable differences regarding our future, I have started to fill my days and nights with distractions. I hate coming home to an empty apartment. My apartment feels like a prison cell. It's my cinderblock palace with no windows and very little ventilation, and it may as well be a tomb. I started painting a canvas of a giant window, and then ran into the dilemma of realizing how loaded with meaning a window really was... now I can't finish it because I'm caught up trying to figure out what I want to be out there.

I took up running this week and decided that running will be my new boyfriend. I've gone twice. My new boyfriend, "Mr. Runningshoes," thinks I'm fat and out of shape. I agree with him. I had a friend who runs marathons set up a beginner plan for me to work up to longer distances that won't burn me out and make me want to quit in frustration. So far so good! I am sore today from my second run, but if I stick to going every other day, 3x a week, it should be okay. I notice already that I am enjoying the small break after work to listen to music. And I sweat buckets, like no other workout I've had in years. Btw, I HATE running. But it's working. And it's free.

To distract myself from my lonely apartment and lack of socialization, I'm thinking about getting a pet rabbit. Right now, I really dig Checkered Giants, but likely I'll get a rabbit from a rescue organization. I can't justify buying a bunny from a breeder. We shall see. If I get a checker, I'm naming it Heifer. Or Chuck. Maybe.

 I have been researching them online and I'm going to a pet expo tomorrow with a bunny-owning friend of mine. She loves her bunny, and she thinks I'll love one, too. I'm still not quite sure it's what I want because rabbits don't seem very snuggly, but I guess they're more snuggly than fish or a turtle. Plus, they can do tricks if you train them. They have a pretty long life span and can be litter trained, so those are also pluses.

I can't actually have pets in my apartment (shh), but rabbits are super quiet. I don't trust cats to be silent apartment ninjas after past experiences, and a dog is out of the question. God, I miss my dog. Ughhhhhh. I just need a sidekick. Like, bad.