Note to Self...

Stop. Checking. Social. Networking. Sites. You. Dummy.

It's no good for you. You never learn anything useful. Who cares what he's doing? Who cares how he's feeling? Your trying season has changed for the better; his pleasurable season will soon come to an end. The same way troubled waters eventually wash away, storm clouds will silently creep into view. This rollercoaster called life cannot afford us those gleeful peaks without an uphill climb. And we never endure those valleys for long, because another exciting twist or turn is just around the bend. So, chin up. Shake it off. One mindless check-in isn't such a terrible thing - but it is unnecessary. Fabulous people with fabulous lives need not check in on the lowly, selfish, slimy hoebags who twice threatened said fabulosity.

Homeboy now has a blog and twitter account. How nice for him. He constantly updates his Facebook with pleas for people to follow him, keep up with him, check in on him and basically behold the mesmerizing nothingness that summarizes his life. How sweet.

He has plans to pursue business school with his 2.0 GPA and 2+ years of non-work experience. (Getting fired from Merrill and quitting a non-profit gig hardly qualify as "experience"... am I right?) Pah! I laugh at this. I hope the coldness of New York winter consumes his scheming little soul and leaves him shuddering in the misery of his own poor decisions. I hope he encounters insurmountable heartbreak and cries himself back to his southern roots for mama to take care of him - again. I hope life starts to reject him the same way he rejected me. I hope he gets hit by a bus. I want the universe to abort him.

It probably doesn't help that I checked his f-ing page after 6 flimsy hours of sleep followed by running 3 miles and almost hurling this morning... It doesn't help that I checked on him to delay the voluminous workload that's already beginning to wear me down. Now I can't even concentrate.

I'm cranky. But I'm also sincere. My anger has subsided but not completely dissipated. Linda isn't sure this feeling will ever go away, either. I hope she's wrong. Perhaps small glimpses into his self-proclaimed "happy life" will always trigger a tiny bit of anger or resentment. But that doesn't mean I have to fuel it. I'm actually fine. So, mosey along now. Nothing to see here.

Dear Boss

Dear Boss,

When we go over things in meetings - do you listen to me? When I clearly lay out the parameters of a project, illustrating costs, profit margins, investments and revenue totals - do you camp out in Lala Land until my lips stop moving?

For the past 6 weeks I have been working diligently on a project that has produced (aside from results) obstacles, challenges, setbacks, creative discrepancies, email floods, questions, comments, and maybe even a few gray hairs. Now that it's time to pull the trigger and start making deposits and other financial commitments to BACK said project, I'm confronted with even more obstacles, challenges, questions, comments and concerns.

No, sir.

I can not and will not be stressed beyond my current stress level, which is already high. I thought I had learned to relax in the workplace as a bi-product of the summer's events. Evidently I'm hardheaded. But as I sit here, typing, breathing deeply and recounting some of Linda's advice from my lunch hour, I have reached this conclusion: I cannot be consumed by nit picky trivialities that you overlooked the first three times I presented this information to you.

The reasoning behind this decision is that I have the tendency to wear my emotions on my sleeve. When I'm tired or stressed by work, the whole world can tell. I don't like that. I pressure myself to at least present the illusion that everything is okay... from 9 am - 6 pm at a bare minimum. When I go home, or find myself in the presence of friends, I'm allowed to break down and let it all out. But at work? I keep it professional. Well, to the best of my ability, which is trying when my workload is increased exponentially during the busiest and most pressure-filled quarter of the year.

Such is life.

Linda was helpful in allowing me to see that I can "have it all together" and still succumb to daily stressors in the workplace. My innate reactions are within reason and understandable, particularly considering what's at stake and the expectations of me. Anyone would be on edge. And, while that makes 100% sense, it doesn't completely set my mind at ease. When a person sets high standards for herself, and typically exceeds even her own expectations... what do you have? A recipe for success... or perhaps a catastrophe.

In the end, I'm confident I will close out 2009 on top as far as my career is concerned. In the meantime, however, I'm going to need my boss to pay closer attention when I explain things. It's really as simple as that.

Food 101

Linda says I’m mildly depressed.

For the past week, I’ve unconsciously begun to own that concept and it has slowly ruined the past ninety-six hours of my life. It really doesn’t matter what I do. I’ve been to the gym twice, I’ve been to two happy hours and I’ve partied with high school friends who were in town for the weekend (even cuddled on the couch with one after the evening’s festivities were over). I spent Saturday night at home watching Gossip Girl and crying over the mushy parts. I’ve been to church. I’ve re-gained my appetite. And yet, nothing is wholly cheering me up.

Linda encouraged me to get back to my “normal routine” though I haven’t lately felt motivated to do so. She reminded me that, after any stressful situation, it can be difficult to get back into the full swing of things. So, that’s where the aforementioned events have come into play. I’ve been forcing myself to do the after-work activities that I normally do. I can’t wait until it starts to make a difference.

I’m down. And, it’s not even rooted in the issues surrounding my mom, grandma, that boy, or work. I’m just in an inexplicable funk; a “mild depression.” It troubles me to even say those words aloud. What’s even more troubling is that the life that surrounds me – one that once offered solace and refuge – feels more like a different planet as each day passes. Not only is my parent fighting cancer, but so is everyone else’s! Corinne’s dad. Melanie’s granddad. Denise’s Mom. WTF? Since when is cancer the norm? Why is it so pervasive? And when, for the love of GOD, is everyone going to get better?

No one prepares us for these things. No high school or college courses prepare you for the pains of real life. Going to class and making good grades? Check. Joining student council and working part-time? Check. AP courses, college applications, French club, dance club and graduating with honors? Check, check, check, check, CHECK. Dealing with heartbreak… watching a parent’s health fail… juggling personal and professional trials and tribulations... Um. Good luck! There’s no manual. There are no guidelines. And if you don’t have faith, you’re essentially left with nothing. Luckily my parents provided me with a sound spiritual foundation. I know and believe that God will answer my prayers. Even still, learning to pray, relying on that which cannot be seen, and trusting that everything will turn out as it should is difficult to learn. The Sunday school teachers and pastor can be the best coaches imaginable – but it doesn’t guarantee that any of us will ever be fully equipped with the spiritual playbook we need.

Learning to trust the God within us… and listen to the calm, soothing voice that guides our feet – THAT is what we’re all working towards. Knowing that our peace is not rooted in things or relationships (even the ones we think we can’t let go of), but rests solely in our walk with God – THAT is what we’re all working towards. The world could take away ever THNG we own, and every PERSON we love. Does that mean we stop existing? Does that mean we stop going? Does that mean we give up? No. We place our trust, our faith, and hearts in God’s hands. We leave it to God. And unfortunately, it takes life lessons to reach that point. It requires knowledge acquired inside and outside of the classroom.

Learning how to handle life, in essence, means learning how to live it. Just as toddlers learn to walk – slowly, pacing themselves with one foot in front of the other – we learn to live. We begin slowly. We make mistakes. We encounter obstacles. We fall down, but we get back up. If a toddler stopped trying to walk the first time it encountered defeat, it would crawl forever. Who can imagine a life like that? For that very reason, we must accept the challenges life presents to us and consciously move forward, no matter what new days may bring. We must keep going – though we sometimes feel as though we’re completely unprepared for everything being thrown at us. We must take things in stride. Grieve when we have to. Let go of the things we want and trust that we’ll always have exactly what we need. We’ll have to work; sometimes we’ll have to cry. We will keep trying. We will fall. We’ll stand back up…

Know that everything works out in the end. If it hasn’t

The Root of All Evil

My last few posts have been angry, but therapeutic. I'm going to keep the momentum going.

I'm very angry. It's like carrying a boulder with me every day. As soon as I wake up in the morning... I groggily strap it onto my back. Some mornings when I wake up - free from all troubling thoughts - I smile to myself, proudly, thinking "see, you're not thinking about you-know-what." And then, the clouds overpower those last glimmers of sunlight, the shower feels a little less cleansing, my smile disappears, I hang my head... Damnit. Another long day.

I met a really nice woman named Linda, who's been helping me out a lot. Our conversations are always very candid, and she's always so supportive. Even she can hear the anger in my voice... sometimes when I don't even intend for (or realize) it to be there. She pushes me to find the source of that anger. I mean, of course anyone in my shoes would be angry. But, there is a root. There is a source. And when I find it, after peeling back all of those "angry layers" I might actually start to make real strides towards healing. That would be nice.

Maybe the source is me choosing to ever deal with him in the first place? Maybe I'm angry that I let him drag me through senior year - feeling the highest of highs, and lowest of lows - especially when all I ever wanted from him was a post-pledging, springtime fling? Yeah. I entertained him when he pursued me thereafter. Why wouldn't I? I had already put my cards on the table. I didn't or need anything else from him at the time. Perhaps that intrigued him. Perhaps it offended him. It likely did both. Regardless, why was I the one who had to pay the price for his frail ego? Where did that become my problem?

Maybe I'm angry that I answered the phone in February of 2008. And talked with him for 5 hours... listening to his problems, helping where I could, laughing to ease the tension, letting my guard down in hopes of getting my friend back. Maybe I shouldn't have done that.

Maybe the source is that I didn't read the signs all along the way.
"Hello. He is no good for you. Leave him alone."
"Yield."
"Please, he's sleeping with someone else now... move on."
"Dummy - he's just not that into you."
"He's being mean again... stop dealing with him."
"This will never work out."
"He lied about that, too."
"He's done this to other girls before."
"STOP."
"STOP."
"STOP."

Linda finds it interesting that I always look inside first. "You always ask yourself what YOU did wrong, first?" she said - half inquiring/half stating a fact. "Yeah," I replied. "Are you able to hold others accountable when they've done something wrong?" she asked. "Yes!" I said. But it is, indeed interesting that I always manage to bear a disproportionate amount of the burden. I wonder how many other people do that?

Maybe HE'S the source; the root. Maybe it's all his fault, and I have nothing to be ashamed of; nothing to apologize for. Because he chooses not to bear a burden does not mean he's not at fault. "It seems to me, that this is more about him, than anything," said Linda. "It seems as though he has trouble in committed relationships. He's always dating someone - never for long - and moving on to the next girl rather quickly. He may just have intimacy issues. And, that does not speak to you one bit," she commented, in her soft, soothing voice. That thought relaxes me. His inability to fully engage in committed, intimate, real relationships has nothing to do with me.

His new relationship which has been built on hollow, superficial ground with an unsteady, rocky foundation, therefore, is bound to fail... which also has nothing to do with me... but that thought relaxes me as well.

"I'm free to let go of this whenever I choose," I say to myself each morning. I say it in the car too. And, at my desk. At the gym. At dinner. When I'm falling asleep to Conan O'Brien.

"Whenever I choose..."