Monday, January 29, 2007
There is something wrong with me and should I choose to continue living, I fear I will be alone 'til the last day I feel the sun on my skin.
If you really knew me, you would spit on me.
Friday, January 26, 2007
But I've finally hit a level of privacy within me that is just too raw to share.
I've been carrying some painful secrets for the last few months. I want to tell my close friends and relatives. I want the burdens lightened, but the words cling to my tongue like new recruits at the door of a C-130 on their first jump day.
In my mind, my secrets are so terrible they would sway the listener's opinion of me to disgust and perpetual disappointment. I am ashamed and afraid.
But- I also feel the crushing weight of bearing the words in silence. I guess this is why I've been so open in regards to the miscarriage and losing our foster children. I had to unleash something for fear of being pulverized by an emotional weight equal to atmospheric pressure times 15.
I've shared my Dirty Little Secrets with only three people:
My husband. Telling him promoted the secrets to Our Family's Dirty Secrets. It did not, however, provide the relief I seek. My husband retreats within himself when things are too painful.
My former therapist. She used that information in such a way to nearly destroy my marriage. Thus, the "former" in her title.
My bishop. He heard, he counseled, but I did not feel like I could share the emotional aspect of my burdens without being interrupted by scriptural references. Sometimes, I just need to feel understood.
I feel I need to share my D.L.S. with someone who meets these two requirements:
1) Is a woman. A woman in tune can hear between the pauses, read between the lines, feel between the heartaches.
2) Knows me well. Someone who knows me so well, she can fall back on my other attributes to compensate for my sins. She can see my secrets as mistakes and not as my identity.
But maybe, even with these met, I will also need more chronological distance from my actions. Then, maybe my fear of the consequences will be insignificant compared to the peace of talking. Then, I will be free.
When will I share? How do I share? In whom do I confide?
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
In regards to my miscarriage:
1. "Are you ok?" Yes.
2. "How far along were you?" No more than one and a half months. We don't know exactly because by the time I found out I was pregnant, I was already in the middle of a miscarriage.
3. "How are you feeling?" Tired. I still have elevated levels of the pregnancy hormone so I have pregnancy symptoms: nausea, fatigue, sore breasts, etc.
4. "How are you emotionally?" Fine. Really I am. My self-value isn't based on my ability to get pregnant or have babies. When I found out that I was having a miscarriage, I cried for about 3 minutes, and then that got boring so I moved on.
In regards to losing the three foster kids we've had in our home for a year:
1. "How are you feeling?" At first, I was stunned, then angry, then sad. Now I feel peace, joy, and a bit of excitement as we become empty-nesters. My very sweet and very sensitive husband is another story. He is mourning longer, deeper.
2. "Did you get attached?" Yes, we were a family for an entire year. We celebrated all the holidays and birthdays together. We did family things. We were "Mom and Dad" and they were "our kids".
3. "Why are the kids going away?" We cannot talk about the case due to confidentiality. Basically, their caseworker decided that I wasn't a stable enough mom for these kids and she could find them a more "compatible" family. Honestly, being a foster parent to three children with issues is hard. We told the caseworker whenever things were difficult and were honest about the cycles our family went through. It turns out the foster care system doesn't really want one to be honest all the time, just some of the time. They want someone to report what they want to hear.
4. "Are you going to take in more kids?" Probably. Eventually. But right now, my husband and I are going to take a big ol' break and enjoy each other. Hawaii, here we come!
Friday, January 12, 2007
When I was single and dating, I was often told I had a "poker face": no one knew if I was interested or not. At the time, I kept my emotions hidden so that I could judge if a fellow was worthy of my openness. I see now how frustrating that would have been to the men I later revealed interest in.
I'm realizing I was blessed to be pretty as this helped men be extra patient with my privateness. I see also why I had only a handful of female friends since my appearance would not have really inspired them to hang in there during my hesitancy to open up.
I was also blessed with wit... Just enough to keep people hanging around a little longer to buy me some more "judging time."
What was I evaluating? I was making sure the person in question was (1) perfectly flawless and unable to hurt me or (2) so obviously inferior that I would not hesitate to drop them should they cross me.
Right or Wrong. It seemed easier to live in a black-and-white world. However, that world is awfully small, short-lived, and lonely.
Why have I been evaluating people for so long? I was judging people as I assumed they were judging me, except... I'm finding they weren't the ones judging me. It was me harshly judging me.
I've been a woman of extremes, and I'm in search of balance and contentment.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
I bought tickets for last night's Brian Regan's "You Too" show 3 months ago because I heard it was selling out. Man, they weren't kidding! There was not an empty seat in the house.
"Happy Arbor Day. Enjoy the bubbly."
If you don't know already, Brian Regan is an ambassador in the United Nations of Hilarity. He clunkily traipses the line between funny and insane without sloshing through annoying.
I have watched or listened to about everything he has put out, so I wondered last night if I'd be disappointed about watching a "live re-run." I was pleased to find that for as much Brian Regan as I have taken in, there were only two segments I recognized; The rest of his material was newer.
"They're just dumb ol' donkeys!"
I couldn't believe I forgot my camera! I know a few people for whom that qualifies as a cardinal sin. Always have your camera with you! (Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!) Upon my realization, I gave up all plans to track Brian Regan down after the show. (Oh, yes, I would have.)
What's Brian Regan like on stage? Same as on video.
He does that intense open leg stance and that weird lanky stroll when he's coming out of a joke, like he's shaking something off.
"'Brian, how do you make a word a plural?' Um, you say to it 'YOU BETTER BE PLURAL!!'"
One of my favorite experiences at the show was when he came out for an encore and did 'classic' bits (Peanut Butter & Jelly; Stupid in School; Pop-Tarts) and the audience said the punchlines at the same time as he did. ("Can life get better? I submit that it cannot!")
It was fun watching him realize that the audience had seen and memorized his crap ("crap" used affectionately here): "I'm flattered that you know this already. Really." ... and then amusing to watch him try to set the jokes up anyway as he reached for his water bottle: "There really is no way for me to go into this smoothly. I will just take a long strategy-thinking drink here."
"So, I was in the doctor's office. No- I wasn't in his office. I was in the examimanation room... the examinamation room... I just screwed that set-up."
I have always known I hate sitting next to 2 types of people at comedy shows.
Type 1: has to explain the jokes to their companion even if the companion did not ask for an explanation.
Type 2: giggles at everything a comedian says even if it's not meant to be funny. ["It's hot in here." (Teeheeheehee) "Can we check on the temperature?" (Hee hee hee , snort); "I was standing in line today..." (BWAHAHAHA!)]
I discovered last night that I am also annoyed by a 3rd Type.
Type 3: thinks HE'S the comedian. This guy would echo any new "material" or sound Brian made. Brian (yes, we're on a first name basis) clicked his tongue, Type 3 clicked his tongue. Brian grunted, Type 3 grunted. He was programming new soundwaves and vocabulary into his persona! I can quote Muhammad Ali but it doesn't make me a boxer.
I sat in the row in front of Type 1 and Type 3, and two seats to the left of Type 2. Ocassionally, I had the urge to get up and move to a different part of the party.
It's difficult being surrounded by morons.
"My doctor said something really eye-opening to me... He said... 'Why are your eyes closed?'"
In a I'm-not-alone-moment, I was ever so surprised to find that Brian has also put two contacts in one eye. Me and Brian! Eye contact morons! W00t!
Surely, THAT makes me as funny (tongue click) as Brian Regan.