Still battling these demons

• Don't get excited about anything, it's probably stupid. 
• Don't get angry, upset, or sad. That's being overly emotional.
• Don't think people actually like you. They just put up with you because you have to be around. 
• Don't talk about the things you enjoy. No one really cares. 
• Don't admit weakness. That's just asking for pity, and will make people like you even less.
• Don't try to be good at anything. You'll just fail and prove how worthless you are.

     These are actually rules I had to teach myself to live by. For years, my feelings were constantly invalidated by the person who claimed to love me most. I became ashamed of myself when I'd cry. I stopped trying to enjoy my hobbies, because they were "pointless wastes of time." I even came to believe that I had no friends, but that the people who came to my house were only there to see him. I had no one to talk to about the stress I was under.
     As a result of all this, I developed a very unhealthy coping mechanism. I'd ignore any feelings I had. I'd work myself into such a state of exhaustion that I was emotionally numb. Feelings were bad. Every time I'd tell my spouse about what I was feeling or thinking, he'd immediately find a way to throw it back at me. Even when I was half-asleep, my thoughtless mumbles became weapons aimed back at me.
     I thought I was doing good. I'm enjoying my crafting again. I have actual friends, who enjoy being around me. They don't place conditions on their friendship. I don't have to buy their affections. I started to believe that I'm worth being loved. Then last night happened.
     I mentioned the old friend that I went on that date with. We've been talking a lot. But these little voices keep poking at me. What does he really want from me? A relationship? Friendship? Just sex? What do I really want from him? I feel like I can't trust myself anymore. Everything was doing just fine, until he innocently asked a simple question. But those evil little voices! It was the same kind of thing the ex- used to do so he could set me up, to make me feel small and worthless. 
     It's come to the point where I feel the need to measure every thing I say to people, for fear that my words will be used against me. I can't easily trust people, even if I know that they are worth it. I hate this. I want to be whole again. It's not fair to the people around me to have to suffer with my insanity. Nor is it fair to me!


Edit to add: In his defense, we were communicating via Yahoo. Had we been talking face-to-face, he would have seen that something was wrong, and not pushed me the way he did. It's not his fault, when he really doesn't know about the things I went through the last few years... I won't know what things will push me over until I experience them.

It was a hot, sumer night...

     It's going to be a busy weekend. I'm probably not going to have time to update on my usual day. So I'm going to go ahead and do this early! Friday, I have some shopping to do to get ready for my convention. Saturday is Pride in the Street, and I get to see Melissa Etheridge. Then, I have Anthrocon the following weekend, complete with last-minute freak-outs and mental check-outs.

     Also, this Saturday is International Yarn-bombing Day, so I am working on a top-secret knitting project to "bomb" somewhere downtown. My Ravelry group's KAL for this month is "travel projects" and I will be working on the Loopy Lupie scarves to wear when we do the Lupus walk in September. That counts as "travel" because I'm taking it with me to Anthrocon to work on during whatever down-time I manage to have.

     I was listening to music at work last night, and a song came on that made me remember a random night, and how I failed to take a chance. So, once upon a time...

The nostalgia trap

     I was sitting at my kitchen table by myself this morning, having a cup of coffee. It brought back memories of once upon a time ago, when I moved into my first apartment alone. I remember how empowered I felt. I was living on my own, working at a good job. Everything in the world was ahead of me. There was nothing I enjoyed more at that point than sitting at my own kitchen table and just thinking about where I had been, and where I was going.
     Fast forward a few years. New table. New coffee pot. New kitchen. Still thinking. Ten years after I started living alone, a lot has happened, so I have a lot more to think about. No longer does the morning coffee revolve around what to make for dinner, or who I am hanging out with the next weekend. Morning coffee is now a time to relax after work. It's a time to remember. Plans are now about what to buy at the grocery store, and serious concerns about where I'm going to live after August.
     It was bittersweet to realize that I was doing the same thing in a different place. I used to wonder if I'd ever meet someone I'd want to spend my life with. Now, I mourn the end of having someone to be with. So much has changed, yet so much is still the same. I feel like I have moved backwards. It's very hard to see a positive future right now. I've emailed so many landlords about houses, but none have gotten back to me. I'm purposely single, but I feel like something is wrong with me, that I can't romantically attract anyone.
     Maybe this is just a horrible combination of the wet weather, and being left alone in my apartment. I'm sure I'll feel better once Roomie P's birthday party gets started!

There's magic in the night...

     Come along, children. It's Tiger's Story Hour. Sit down and I'll tell you about a snag I refuse to unravel.

     Once upon a time, I had a very dear friend named Jeff. Jeff had a truck. It was ugly as sin, the color of deli mustard. We called it The Beast. For a while, I had no job and no money, but he did. So Jeff would pick me up at my mom's house and we'd go...everywhere! Jeff and I both loved Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel. So we'd play music while we drove, often singing along. "Only the Good Die Young" and "Thunder Road" were Jeff's songs to me. I kind of took advantage of how much he loved me then, but that's another story for another time.

     So there was this one sunny, summer day... I'd kicked my shoes off and laid back in the passenger seat with the window down, when it struck me as a good idea to hang my feet out the window as we drove down the parkway. Jeff told me to get my naked toes inside. My response was that they weren't naked, I had nail polish on them. We were arguing about the questionable "indecency" of me showing my bare feet to the world when suddenly, Jeff burst into song along with The Boss "Show a little faith, there's magic in the night. You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright. And that's alright with me." We both burst out laughing at the timing, but I joined in and we kept on singing.

     Looking back, that was one of the best summers of my life. A lot has in the 16 years since that summer day. People have come and gone from my life. I've moved more times than I care to count. Romances have begun and ended. I'm a grown-up now, with responsibilities. I have to go to work rather than jump into the car and just drive. After living more, I better understand what the songs we listened to, and feel many of the same emotions that the singers were trying to convey.

     Jeff is gone now, taken from us by an unfortunate accident. I don't know whatever happened to that ugly Beast. I miss them both. But on sunny days when I'm riding in a different friend's car, I long to hang my naked toes out the window and sing along with the radio. In those moments, I feel a shadow of the happiness I shared with Jeff. I'm still not a beauty, but there's still magic in the night. And that's all right with me.

Little sisters need not read this

     I hate my little sister. Well, if I told you about our history, you'd certainly believe it. Let's take a brief stroll down memory lane, shall we?

• Age 3 - I vaguely remember Mommy having a big belly and telling me that I was going to have a little sister.
• Age 4 - I have more fuzzy memories of holding a squirmy thing that I could barely wrap my arms around. And being told to be quiet, so I didn't wake the baby. 
• Age 8 - Everywhere I went, I had this goofy little kid who wanted to follow me. And my parents insisted I take her with me. My friends didn't want to play with a four-year-old baby.
• Age 12 - I was old enough to babysit, but not old enough for her to listen to me. The arguments were vicious. And I always got in trouble, even when she was the one misbehaving.
• Age 15 - I won the state FBLA competition. When I called home to tell Mom about it, no one was home. Wendy was being admitted to the hospital, and when I finally did reach Mom on the phone, that was all she cared about, not what I had accomplished.
• Age 19 - Things started getting ugly. We didn't just yell at each other. The fights were starting to get physical. There was on incident where Wendy threw a bowl at the chandelier above my head, shattering the glass. On another occasion, there was a wrestling match over the fact that she didn't want me using "her phone."
• Age 27 - I was living on my own. Mom called needing me to do stuff for her, because my sister hadn't. That spoiled little brat still got to live at home rent free, but I had to bail Mom out of trouble? There was a fight so bad, I told her not to even come to my wedding when it happened.
• Age 29 - Wendy started getting sick. I knew better the whole time, but I was sure she did this just to ruin my wedding!
• Age 30 - She was diagnosed with Lupus. We still weren't talking because of the fights we'd had the last few years.
• Age 34 - She is my best friend. We talk via text or Facebook every day. How the hell did this happen??

     I'd heard over the years about how important sisters could be. Everyone would tell me that when I grew up, my sister would become my best friend, but I always thought they were full of it. It's funny the way things work, but I wouldn't trade her for the world! No one else has been through all the crap with me, from our parents' divorce to my bad marriage. 

     I had a lot in mind that I wanted to say, but since it's slipped my mind, I'll just say this. I love my sister. I'd kill for her. I'd die for her. I wish I could do more for her when her lupus causes problems, but if all I can do is listen and hurt from 2500 miles away, I'll keep doing that!

Stumbling through life

     As I have mentioned before, my sister has lupus. For those who may not know what lupus is, it's an auto-immune disorder, where the body begins attacking its own organs. Yeah, your immune system basically gets really hyperactive and confuses your lungs with the flu! Actually, it can attack any organ, including the brain or the heart. There is no cure. And it can be fatal. BUT, it doesn't have to be. So, said sister has been trying for some time to do her best to try raising awareness of this life-threatening disease. And I like the idea of trying to help her, so we started a Facebook group for the friends and family of those who have been diagnosed with lupus. If you're interested in supporting those who support lupies, it is at Someone I Love Has Lupus.

     This all started a few months ago when she said she wanted to start a blog. After weeks of discussing format, we began discussing a name for her blog. She wanted to use her blog to spread awareness, but didn't want to be solely as someone with lupus. Then she got intimidated about how difficult it would be to actually write a blog. So I was conned into starting this blog you are reading. Yesterday, she tells me she is contemplating having a group for family members of lupies, so they could have a place to share what they are going through, caring for someone else. She understood that caregivers/emotional supporters would need a place to talk about how difficult their family can be. Then this morning, she told me it's all my baby! *sigh*

     It seems I tend to fall backwards into things in this life. From getting hired at a job after applying for a lower-paying position, to becoming my sister's reluctant champion, I don't know what I did, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

My Favorite Things

     I am totally obsessed with Christmas this year. AND, I really don't want to keep whining about how difficult my life is. Things could be, and have been, worse. I'm still getting a handle on all the good things that I have in my life, but at lease I know there are things out there. So instead of complaining, I'm going to list some of my favorite Christmas gifts that I've gotten over the years. In no particular order, they are:

1. A Cabbage Patch Preemie doll (1984) -  This was the second year the Cabbage Patch Kids were popular. It was years later that I found out about my granny standing in line to get me a doll. Melissa was my first Cabbage Patch Kid, and to this day remains my favorite. 28 years later, I still have Melissa. I still sleep with her when I need a cuddle. I've gotten more expensive gifts in my life, but for some reason this one will always remain my favorite.
2. A bike (1986) - I think that was the right year? It was my very first 10-speed bike. I remember it sitting, completely assembled, in the living room. I almost died. I wanted to take it outside and ride it in the snow, but Mom wouldn't let me!
3. Abridged Classics book collection (c. 1983-1985) - I'm not sure of the year I got these, but they just seemed cool. I did read them when I was young, and according to Mom, I even understood some heavy literary concepts they held. It wasn't till I was an adult that I truly appreciated this gift. Being exposed to Charles Dickens and Mark Twain at a very young age definitely had an effect on me. I am not intimidated by the classics, because I know that they might take a bit of extra work, but are just as good of stories as anything I read now!
4. Teddy Ruxpin (c. 1988) - Can you tell I'm not very good at remembering years? Does anyone else remember the talking illiops and his octopede friend that would tell you stories from a cassette placed in his back? It was one of the earlier "read-along" characters. I remember arguing with my sister over which story we wanted to have "read" to us at night.
5. Pitt and Penn State sweatshirts (1995) - I had been accepted to Pitt. My best friend was going over to the enemy. Dad and Step-mother thought it would be cute to make sure I had one of each. And people wonder where I get my warped sense of humor?
6. Blizzard - (2003) - The first Christmas I was dating Blaze, he got me this huge stuffed white tiger. And by huge, I mean the size of a medium dog. I used it as a pillow for a while. I love my collection of stuffed tigers, and Blizzard rules over them all. I may have anger towards him now, but Blizzard stays with me, to remind me that things were good at one time. And he's that awesome of a tiger.

     I'm certain I've gotten other super presents. These are just the ones I can think of this morning. It's not just the present that sticks in my memory. It's the people around me when I got them, and how they affected me, that turns a good present into something that sticks around forever.

     Here's my challenge to you. What are your all-time best Christmas gifts? What kind of memories did they create? Are you brave enough to share them?