Caterwauling

I haven’t been to church in two weeks, and maybe I’ve just missed but today it was good. I talked with people I like, a book was discussed that I own (not that I’ve read it) and I cried pretty much the whole goddamned time.

And every time a wave of tears would come, I would unthinkingly utter, “Oh, Christ.” Because, you know, that’s how I roll when I’m doing a U-turn from heaven to hell.

We talked about how the greatest love is not necessarily loving thyself, but the love that is given to God and, by proxy, to others because that’s God-like. And especially lately, this is something at which I am failing miserably.

I always try to love myself because when no one else seems to, at least I do. And I do hold my own opinion in very high regard, so if I love me, well, then I’ve got to be pretty damned special, then. 😉

But I haven’t been so quick to give any love away. In fact, I’m very stingy with it and have been for a very long time. And it was only sometime yesterday that I came to the conclusion that I would probably give anything for a touch from someone I could love. It’s an abstract “someone” of course. Don’t get me wrong — a face could always be assigned, but I am careful not to get my hopes up anymore.

I didn’t realize my withholding of love was so hurtful, but I have been told as recently as today that I can reduce someone to nothing with just the look on my face. I don’t know. I guess I just can’t fake it unless I’m paid to. But what I always forget until after the fact is that I missed an opportunity to let someone know that their presence in this world matters.

And what reminded me of that is that the people from whom I could really use some affirmation or some level of understanding, well, they either don’t know that I need it or walk away from me anyway when I need it most.

And that’s what made me cry. That it’s a sad cycle — I deny someone what they need, others don’t realize/want to give what I need. Perhaps they, too, are looking to get it from somewhere else or have an idea of where they’d rather channel their energies.

I often think of Maya Angelou’s character in “How to Make an American Quilt,” where she decrees that while it was the love of a man that she sought, it was the love of a child that would make her complete. And it’s the love of a man that I seek, to the point that everything else is just a distraction from what I really want.

Yet, is my life lesson to learn where to get/give love doesn’t matter, just so long as I am continually doing it? That I need to focus less on finding someone to love me, just as long as I love everyone else?

Been there, done that and bought the T-shirt, key chain, souvenir mug and some postcards. I’m looking for a more-immediate return on my investments these days. Plus, I figure if folks — the ones whose help and/or approval I so desperately seek — can walk away from me so easily, why can’t I do it to others?

Do you really get saved if you spend your time saving others? What if you don’t want to? What if it’s all you can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other … why is it during our own weakest moments that others demand the most from us?

We had an exercise today, with a Post-It Note heart. On one side, we were to write a word or phrase to describe our relationship with God. On the other side, we had to list the person (mortal) we need to be connecting with/helping because we can. Anyone who knows me can probably fill in those two blanks.

But what if you’re doing all you can to help someone and they dig in their heels at every turn? And does anyone regard me in the same way?

And if I can give whatever it is that people need from me, will I ever be on the list to get what I’m yearning for, too?

You know, I don’t mind it as much when it’s my paying customers who cough, barf and snarf all over me, but when it’s the a-holes who think we are put on the planet for them to entertain, molest and/or listen to their life stories over and OVER again who do it whilst coughing all over me, I get a twee bit testy.

Otherwise, the meetings went great. It serves as a reminder of what our customers want and need, and it’s one of those times when all the corporate divisions mix and mingle, so everyone’s put their agendas down and we pull together as a team and bond as well as cooperate. It’s a glorious thing, one that I always hope will continue when we go back to the digital salt mines.

Anyway, clearly I’m home, I’ve got a bit of a cold and my feet are still swelled, with the left one still looking like something out of a Foo Fighters video. I had to buy Crocs in a size 10 to fit over it — my feet are an 8 1/2 on a good day — and they’re still tight. Le sigh.

I rolled in late Friday night to see my mom waiting at the door. I walked past her and went straight to my room for the next 24 hours. She was so excited to see me. And I burst straight into tears that this is my life, and welcome back to it. Last year, I admit I hoped for someone to come along to love me. I guess I should have been a lot more specific because this is SO not what I had in mind.

But I’ve always said 34 is going to be “my year.” And here I am, three months away from that so-called magical era, and I am not giving up on that dream. I spent a lot of time with myself this past week, and the thing is, I like the “me” who has gone into hibernation. I’m not overly fond of the current incarnation, though.

I mean, you can always break up with someone who isn’t meeting your needs or if you just don’t love them anymore, but how do you disassociate with family and self if they’re driving you bugshit nuts?

I know, there’s some lesson I need to learn in all of this. But why does every moment of life have to be some sort of teachable moment? Why can’t I go away and chaos not erupt, and why can’t I come back and not feel like I’m stepping into a bear trap and that I’m going to be dangling upside-down over an alligator pond with my foot ensconced in the metal jaws until I can figure out how to gnaw my way back to freedom?

In any event, I suppose it’s Lent. I’d like to give up on all the offers I’m getting from ProFlowers and Hallmark and 1-800-Flowers.com. Any girl who claims she isn’t into flowers is lying. I personally hate the smell of them because they remind me of funeral homes, but honestly? I abhor their absence even more. All this holiday does is serve to remind me that I’m not “there” yet and to stoke the fear that I may never be.

Funny, that. The girl who just wants some goddamned personal space really wouldn’t mind sharing it with someone after all. But how many more tests do I have to go through with situations I DO NOT WANT before I get to the ones I would possibly like very much?