Therapy is a Well Functioning Keyboard

6 month revue

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Mon, 5 May 2008 08:32:00 -0500

I'm unwinding but it feels like it's doing no good. Like one of those super-long, stupid telephone chords. I twist and twist in the attempt to become untwisted, and then I stop and discover that I'm just as tangled- only in the other direction.
I was told I'm an angel just last night....but considering where I met this fella, he may be crazy. I felt like a bridge troll. Mean and constantly put-out. The put-out herself surely cannot help it. Being four seems to be very stressful. So does twenty-four.
If being a mother means "always being sorry," then I'd rather be sterile. I keep trying to go on a "sorry strike" only to keep doing things I really need to apologize for. The strike will only work if I still behave properly. Any given week in any given month can almost certainly negate that experiment.
And if I could just go deaf, dumb and blind, I'd be more content at work. It's up to me to simulate that. So I can stay sane enough to Suit Up and Show Up.

Means to an end

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 11:16:00 -0600

Working this job I've encountered a lot of frustrations. Daily, I try to roll with the things I don't like about it. Cranky customers and bad management decisions are a way of life when you're the one and only employee of a small local business.

I gotta tell you, lately it's gotten harder to set aside feelings I have no right to have. I feel overwhelmed with a sense of malcontentment and grousitude. I know I need to make a change before I come to dread coming here everyday.

I do love what I do but not in the capacity that I have to do it right now. I'm ready to solidify my future plans in order to have something to look forward to.
I don't want to make awards anymore. I don't want to have a boss anymore. I don't think it's a crime to want to make a living on as much of your own terms as possible. And mine are these: I want to work out of a basement or a dark, shitty little work room. I want to engrave marble and tile for people to put in there bathrooms or kitchens or fireplaces or whatever. That's all I want to do. I'm tired of every other thing I create saying "In recognition for a blow-job well done..." or whatever. I just want to engrave koi and orchids into tiles and them paint them pretty colors. I know there's a market for it because I saw it online. That's where I want to be. The only person I ever want to speak with face-to-face at work is the UPS guy.

So what I have to do right now is an exercise in patience and humility. I need to set aside my ego long enough to get the bread to buy a laser. I can keep this up a while longer as long as I also work at changing my situation.

like a brick

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 11:20:00 -0600

After two uncomfortable conversations, I believe I'm coming to a realization. It's old news and I don't know why I choose the wait three years to process this. My boyfriend told me that when a guy abruptly breaks up with his partner in a committed relationship, that usually means he's messing around or is about to. After some reflection, I suspect that's often accurate. After some more reflection, I'm coming to the belief that was the situation with me and the Ex.

My first impulse is to confront him and demand to be told what I don't think I really want to hear. But I won't do that. I would get no relief and I couldn't count on hearing the truth anyway.
What I find frustrating is the fact that the Ex is old news. Three years old. And I'm still processing a lot of feelings(pretty negative ones) toward him. I thought I was done with that. I thought that because I had done the step work and made the amends that I would be beyond anger or hurt concerning him. And I'm not. And that's supposed to be normal.

Yeah, he probably was fooling around or planning to. The evidence was there. The inclination was also there. Yeah, we were over at least two years before we were really broken up. Yeah, I fooled around early on so there were projected jealousy issues for a good chunk of our relationship. And yeah, I'm glad I'm not with him and I don't miss him.
That being said, it still is a process of acceptance for me. Even after all this time and work, I still have more work and more feelings to do and experience.

Getting over takes a long time and maybe isn't total.

fella boys/fella nervous

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 15:46:00 -0600

It's French Revolution cold today. I mean cruel, hopeless, painful cold today. And it seems as though I sprout a new pimple with personality every half-hour. It's dem cozzzmic hormone blues again.

And my pastor is sending emails about politics-
as the business men slowly get stoned-
yes we're enjoying the capricious Kansas weather-
I'm craving a purple snow-cone.

That was my Billy Joel impression. It needs work.

So much is on my mind, I don't know where to begin. Blame it on the 4th Step. I'm on a new one and it's the hardest so far. I still am often sick, but I don't get to have a "newcomer, she doesn't know any better" cop-out anymore. Eeek! I'm expected to be accountable and adultish. This whole process-thing is a bitch. I want to be better on my time and in my own way. And I don't want to take a nap during the ABC Soaps, I want to play with the Hot Wheel City. I'm not TIRED!!!
--tantrum complete--

Back in the grown-up world....things are as okay as I allow them to be. My sighs are less martyr-filled than before and my bills are paid. Huzzah!

The showroom at work smells like carnations and I look forward to the Savoy's Lobster Bisque later on this week.

Mr. Bolton- I highly recommend you read a blog that is more coherant than this one.

20th Century Boy

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Mon, 7 Jan 2008 14:50:00 -0600

Marc Bolan never learned how to drive a car for fear he would die in a car accident. He still died in a car accident as a perpetual passenger.
That makes me laugh. I don't think it's funny that an amazing and gifted concept artist and glam rock star is no longer with us. I do think it's funny how our fears can rule us completely. It's also kind of a pisser. I'm afraid to drive and thus my world is verrry small. I'm afraid of nature and thus I don't often see animals. I'm afraid of responsibility and so I rarely let my self succeed and advance.
I hear a lot of people say how "fear is the opposite of faith." Blah blah blah. It sounds like Dr. Phil cop-out voodoo every time someone uses a corny phrase made memorable by alliteration. I also think this is an over-simplification. I suspect that fear is natural(though not often rational) and faith is what makes the fear more manageable. (there goes rhymin' simon...who am i to talk about corny word-play?)
I will always be afraid of something, but provided I always remember I'm taken care of, my fears don't have to retard my life. As you can see....I'm not afraid of a run-on sentence.

the Itis revisited

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Mon, 3 Dec 2007 17:36:00 -0600

I've noticed an interesting relationship between my physical health and my emotional health. It seems that when my body is sick, it's easier for my head to also be sick.
Since I've contracted the plague, I've been feeling very low, very needy....very "please don't leave me." This is not my natural state. Really. And the funny(haha)thing is that I feel this way every time I'm ill.

I really think that when our bodies feel puuey(pronounced peYouE -say it fast with no syllable break), our emotional well being suffers. When my body doesn't feel right, I have a very hard time feeling right with the inside Me.

As this is being typed, Bonnie Tyler is singing her feathered little heart out about how "It's a heartache and life sucks and men are mean and whatever..."
When I feel like this I just want to whine and be taken care of. The bitch is that I can never assume any one person will ever take care of me. Cold and cynical as this may seem, as a rule you can't count on another person to stay, care and always do what they say they'll do.

I know lots of people today who would do what they say but they're smart enough to not promise anything except that they're okay and I'm okay.
And the hardest part is that sometimes with some people I want more than that. That's me being sick and codependent.

membrane

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 15:06:00 -0600

Steven and Morgan gave me the plague. Thanks a pant-load.

Apparently this is a taste of life with a small child. I'm trying to get Morgan to say she's a tumor. It's not sticking the way some phrases are. She's almost 4 and she seems to like me. Those two facts in tandem really freak me out sometimes. I've known her almost a quarter of her life AND she likes me. I must keep in mind that at this age, she doesn't know any better. Steven told me I get to teach her about her dot when she hits tween-hood. Yikes.

So, I spend a lot of time with them and the three of us are pretty invested. It's a nice, roomy cage-feeling. Safe/a tad scary as opposed to repellent.

I guess I'm okay with getting the Day-Care-Cough-Cold-Mucusy plague a while longer.

The Art of Control

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Wed, 7 Nov 2007 13:34:00 -0600

And really, it's not just for continence pants.

The cosmic "they" said, "Relax. Hey, all work and no play and blah blah blah....You're so wound up yak yak..." But what "they" don't know is If I ever relaxed, even for a split second, then my whole world would just fall apart in a blaze of everything happening with out my interference.

Boogety, boogety.

If I were to let go, I might just learn that the universe if fine without my opinions, fussings and pot stirrings.

It's the sun that Earth revolves around. I'm only supposed to be along for the ride.

AHHhhh
h
h
h
h
h
h....

At least I still have a say over what color hoodie I wear today. Hmmm, Pumpkin orange.

retail, wholesale, sailing away

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 14:53:00 -0500

Ahhhh....belts and bearings. Like I actually know what I'm talking about. Take a guess. Do I strike you as a girl who's handy? Not so much. But if you hum a few bars, I could fake it. 'Cause fakin' it's what I do best.

If I could miniturize Paul Simon and carry him on my shoulder, he'd go everywhere with me. He'd sing songs appropriate to whatever's going on at the moment. "Hmmm mmm mmm smoking a cigarette.....avoiding the tedious stuff.....No need to be fair, Claire. Just listen to me....fifty ways to ruin a plaque without really trying....," and so on.

If I keep up this isolation for too much longer, I think I'll forget what human interaction feels like. Already I struggle with having a coherent conversation with that guy in my life. You know, the guy who's everything to everybody.....well...not everybody. Does separation make you bitter too? Are you as sick (and a little sad) as me?

Perhaps I'll shave my legs tonight because I like the way they feel. Or draw myself a spooky Clockwork Orange eye and dress myself in the height of fashion - tights and codpiece? Watch a movie and pretend to enjoy it? Read more subversive feminist literature and savor yet another way I can be a failure?

My X isn't talking to my Y today. Don't even ask me about the Z. He's toast.

is it strange to dance so late?

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Fri, 26 Oct 2007 08:28:00 -0500

In past few months, I've discovered that I actually do want a family.

Would God place it on my heart to desire to be a mother if I were not someday well-suited to be one? I keep wondering if I will ever be up to the task of raising a family. I wonder if there's a person out there for me to have a family with. I keep wondering if this feeling is a phase I'll grow out of in time. Is this feeling with me for the rest of my life?

I work so hard to have the faith that things that should happen will happen. I keep feeling nosy about God's design for me. Patience is hard, virtues are really hard; thus I conclude that patience is probably a virtue and it is really, really hard.

the age of solar

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 16:35:00 -0500

Lately, I feel like I do everything out of instinct. Like that my left foot follows my right. I'm moving almost fast enough to keep from falling over. The emotional arms in my gut/heart/soul/inner what-have-you are pinwheeling. How does one regain balance in an unbalanced world?

I do what I'm supposed to do, but with no zest or passion. So many things are changing that I feel like I'm standing still. That's my position: Standing still, facing front. Not perpendicular to the Earth. More like a 79 degree angle. Every thing's okay, but also a little off. No....a lot off. So off that what was normal is now inverted and hazy.

I'm going to go find a brownie or a milkshake or something.
Cheers.

I told my ovaries they had one hour to pack up and get out.

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 17:16:00 -0500

This morning, my charming boyfriend brought flowers to me at work.

Awwwwwwww.

The first question that comes to mind is: What's wrong with him?
Followed by: Why should there be anything wrong with him?
Followed by: Why am I obsessing?

That last one was a good one, no? This guy I'm with is maybe the most positive male-type person to happen to me since my step-dad. And I met my step-father when I was born.

That sounds extreme, but it's pretty accurate. I haven't known a lot of men who were good for me. That's not all any one person's fault. Part of that is the hand I was dealt, and part of that is the bad choice after bad choice I made while feeling victimized by the hand I was dealt.

So, I obsess about not being good enough for an amazing man in my life who loves me. And I figure I don't deserve him or his beautiful little girl. Even though they must think I'm worth being around.

Knowing and knowing are two different things. And, while it's obvious I'm loved, wanted and dare-I-say, needed......it's hard for me to convince me that it's for real.

That's how sick I can be.

strolling, trolling and bowling?

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 09:02:00 -0500

I walk to work. I never learned how to drive a car. That's okay though. I don't really have much interest in that anyway.

This morning, I left my apartment and I noticed how cool it got and how fast it got that way. Not two weeks ago it was in the triple digits all day everyday. Now it's like heaven to go the work with a nice breeze in the upper 70s.

I was thinking about how like spring the temperature felt, but with a completely different feeling. Fall has a different emotion, different motivation. I noticed that while the tentative warmth of spring has a triumphant, new life quality; autumn is like a gracious looser. The summer bows out with a smile and a wave and falls strolls in to say, "Yeah, okay. You're ready for a change but you and I both know it won't be this way for long. Enjoy me, I'll enjoy you, and we'll both put off the inevitable of winter."

The smells in the air are quite different. To me, spring hints at a promise--a renewal. The smell of fall is that of affable defeat. Depressing? Not so much. Death/change has to happen in order for there to be a beginning. Shadow cannot exist without light behind it.

Everything looses it's novelty. Nothing stays new for very long. The mystique is gone and the stores only put out so many new clothes for each season. I can only buy so many of the same color theme before I crave a calender change to facilitate a wardrobe change. It is the nature of things.

I find myself introspective to the point of mental masturbation when the seasons are changing. Like with each temperature change I require a light "housecleaning."

My relationship with my boyfriend is due for something to upset it's applecart. Whether that be good or bad is not for me to say. It is in my nature to fear and be repelled by change. But I don't think it's fair to label changes as "good/bad." That's like having emotions about your emotions. It's self-indulgent and self-defeating. I can "like/not like" whatever changes are coming, but they are always good because they are always necessary for me to grow.

I got all this from humanizing an inhuman force of nature. Yikes. I need to seek better counsel than my cat.

250 acrylics to burn

noreply@blogger.com (claire) — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 10:04:00 -0500

and I'm at about 116 so far. The boss came to work this morning only to turn around and go home again. That makes for a long day. Longer still when I consider the appointments made that go well into 10pm tonight. Right living and fulfilling obligations can be exhausting.

I often wonder where I hid my gratitude. While walking around my apartment, did I set it down somewhere? I haven't lost it. It is merely misplaced. I'm confident it will turn up in the mouth of some crazy with 36 hours under his belt and beads of vodka sweat on his brow.

The thing I need to remeber is: God's a funny guy. Sometimes His humor is sardonic or downright sick. But He's funny. God's the comedian playing to an audience afraid to laugh. Is stifling a chuckle a lesser sin than any other? Am I in closer contatct with Him when I allow myself to be amused at the irony that is everyday living?