Caterwauling

Source: https://medium.com/writers-on-writing/94ec1b9f5741

The feeling of not being in one’s home country. Hmm. I know I was born in these United States but, yes, I do feel like a part of my heart currently resides in parts unknown. Like Tuscany or the French Riviera.

So, another weigh-in, another failure to revel in.

I’ve been gaining and losing the same 0.4 pound for the past month. This week it was a gain. Le sigh.

I haven’t eaten anything but meats and vegetables and dairy since the beginning of this summer. No cake. No ice cream. I cut out the bagels. I really don’t have a lot else I can cut out.

My best losses come when I use my extra 49 points to drink alcohol. Honestly. It’s annoying, really.

This week I even got exercise! Three days of staying home equaled not only needing just one tank of gas instead of two, but it also meant a walk on the beach every night. Shouldn’t exercise help matters?

In other words, I was mentally more healthy this week. Of course, Friday was a mess. Drama and stress. Funny, I did weigh less on Thursday than I did today. That says something, doesn’t it?

The harder I work, the less-fair everything seems to be. The harder I, well, not diet per se but try to take care of my body, the pudgier I become.

I always say that things can’t change till you set them in motion. Every move is progress. I am probably one of the healthiest pudgy people I know. I just stalled after I lost 10 pounds and frankly the wind is so out of my sails that I just don’t even care right now.

I did go to my meeting today and was just deflated after I heard it wasn’t a loss. Like, how? Seriously, how?

The leader said something interesting, and that’s why I go. She said some of us did the program before and had smashing success, and now we’re struggling. OMG it’s like she heard my thoughts! And she said, look, you’re in a different place now. There’s no formula. All you can do is keep working at it.

Which, she’s right. But every time I give up something I really wanted … every time other people get promoted or complimented or favored over me … every time someone sends us a group nastygram after THEY did something wrong to shine a spotlight on things they want to say we did wrong … every time my heart gets broken because a boy would rather date someone uglier/skinner/married-er than me … I lose a little more of my mind.

And the remaining portion of my widdle brain just isn’t regenerating.

And to further test me, Whorothy changed her profile photo. Do you know how much it is KILLING me not to comment? 😉 I am committed to being a better person. Not sure why because I always seem to be the one who gets the door slammed in my face. (Thank you cunt in apartment 617 for shutting the front door and the elevator door in my face on purpose while LOOKING RIGHT IN MY FACE WHILE YOU DID IT.)

I feel like a stranger not only in my own land, but also in my own body. And I’m not sure whether it’s worth continuing to fight to take control of my destiny when shit seems determined to keep happening the way it wants to.

Far Niente is one of my favorite wines, for those of you who are looking for the perfect gift for every occasion. But it’s more.

If you saw “Eat Pray Love,” you’ll know that “dolce far niente” is the sweetness of doing nothing. It was used in the Italy portion of the movie, in the context of how Americans work their asses off and we carry our stress every day of our miserable lives because we have no idea how to just stop and enjoy.

We just can’t, you know? I was just flipping a coin over whether I want to work my 12 hours at home or add two hours in the car in commuting time to it. When I thought, Jesus, Goddess. NO COMMUTE. ENOUGH STRESS ALREADY.

Besides, I won’t get this “week off” (hah) again. Sure, squinting at the laptop is making me nuts. But it’s as close to “far niente” as my life currently allows.

God I need to move to Europe.

When someone tells you that they’re “not happy” about the lack of completion on some random detail project you’ve had on your to-do list for weeks and which stays at the bottom because it isn’t something that is going to change lives, make money or cost anything if it isn’t done, is the wrong response to tell them to “get happy”?

Worked from home today. It was everything I dreamed it could be. And so much more.

Got an unexpected visitor today. Who put together the desk I just bought from IKEA while I worked. Now if only I didn’t have to return the chair I bought that is wonky. Right now I have a desk with a too-small yoga ball for a seat. *shrug*

I would have put them together eventually. Maybe. Of course, my dining-room set waited two months for assembly till one of my boys came here from Pennsylvania and did it on his vacation time. (And that’s currently my desk!)

So, the other memorable part of my day: I had a mini yam fit. It was a weird one. Like, I’ve never had tears shooting horizontally off my face before.

I’m going to take a wild guess that I won’t be seeing this particular visitor ever again, as he witnessed it! lol

It’s funny because I’ve never really taken vacation from work. I’ve lost most of my vacation days in my life and that was OK because I didn’t feel like I needed them. Oh, how I need them now. Especially as they’re expiring and I’m actually telling people to PLEASE don’t give me any new projects right now because I am too burned out to give them the fabulous Goddess treatment that they’d normally get if I had two thoughts to rub together.

I’ve never said no to more work. It is normally my lifeblood. Now, it’s like, great. I can’t take a vacation with the same old workload. How am I ever going to escape with MORE to walk away from?

That was only part of the yam fit. The thing is, I have this grand plan to buy a car (hah) and drive to D.C., then to Pittsburgh, and back again. I’d be happy to work during some of those days. But I don’t know how to leave Mom for more than a week or so because she doesn’t function without me. And then there’s the buying a car bit.

Everyone at work is telling me to lease a car. And that would be fine if I didn’t put 35K on Mom’s car just in the past year using it as my commuting vehicle. She put 35K on the car from 2004 through last year. I doubled the mileage in one year working out in West Egypt.

That’s why working from home is such a gem. Not only do I not have to deal with idiot drivers for the usual hour and a half, but it’s as close to a vacation day as I can get right now.

I don’t mean to complain. I love what I do. I really do. I just … need to not do it for a week or two. Without fear.

One reason I don’t like working from home is I remember not having a job … or working and not getting paid. I remember standing on my balcony BEGGING my now-ex-friend to please for the love God PAY ME. I was working around the clock for her and not getting a dime … and blowing all my cell phone minutes out of the water because we had to TALK ON THE PHONE all the fucking time.

And now I have a lot of conference calls and it makes me NUTS A) to not be able to work and B) because I remember yap, yap, yapping and sharing ideas that those assholes are using now that they didn’t compensate me for.

Meanwhile I’m always feeling like an ass that I’m tired all the time and while I give my best, I notice that my best was better when I had a little more spunk in me.

So anyway, yams.

I’m debating whether to head to the office tomorrow or just hang out here in my happy place. That was my IM status today: Happy Place. One of my friends messaged me and said it made her day seeing that status. The last time I worked from home, another friend messaged me to say good for me; it’s about time I practiced a little self-preservation for a change. I love that. I love that people care about me. Now, to figure out how to spend a little more time caring for myself so I can keep giving my all to all of them. …

I loved my last post. I felt so wise, so free.

That afternoon, I was out having lunch at a local park and I saw a diving journal that had been left behind. I found a phone number and called the guy. He lives far away, so I offered to mail it to him. You’d think that would be worthy of a “thank you.” You’d be wrong.

He told me to instead drop it off at a local business and he’d come back for it. Considering that he had a bunch of licenses and certifications in there that might be useful since he’s a diving instructor, you’d think he would have been less cold and gruff and unappreciative.

Meh.

I got to said local business and waited forever for someone to acknowledge me. I found out that the owner of the journal had called to say I was coming. So why they were all hiding in the back corner of the store and not answering as I tried to get their attention?

In true “no good deed goes unpunished” fashion, the big bird called the universe spreads its ass cheeks and takes a dump on my life. Usually it takes a day or two for misfortune to find its way to me. But this time, my punishment was instant. Because when I was inside, my car got keyed. Sigh.

I didn’t need a parade or a thank-you or anything, but jeebus, why does my reward always have to be a kick in the ass?

“I know you’ve heard it all before,
So I don’t say it anymore,
I just stand by and let you fight your secret war.
And though I used to wonder why,
I used to cry till I was dry,
Still sometimes I get a strange pain inside.
Oh, Joey, if you’re hurtin’, so am I.”

— Concrete Blonde, “Joey”

This CD literally dropped out of the sky in my room amid a crapalanche while I was looking for a favorite shirt. What a wonderful tune.

I loved it when it came out because for three months I lived with a guy named Joe who was my heart, my adventure buddy, my cross to bear, a scar on my soul that I really don’t notice anymore.

I found myself poking at a different old wound the other day and this song still fits. It might be 20 years later and the aches and pains aren’t just on the inside anymore, but it’s funny how you still find yourself in the same situations.

I ran into Joe several years back. We were with new people and yet we beelined to each other for the world’s biggest, best hug.

I find that to be true even now. Put aside all the weird goings-on and you strip it down to two great people who will always love the absolute shit out of each other in our fucked-up little ways.

I have somebody I worry about. He says all the right things and acts perfectly fine around me. And at face value, for the sake of conversation, these days I’m willing to accept that.

I used to challenge him. I wanted him to see the world differently. And at some point I realized he sees it his way for a reason. And it’s not right for me to take away that unique coping mechanism when I have a million and five of my own.

But I always get so upset inside when it comes to him. Further proving that certain things just aren’t meant to be, and not the way they were/are. Mom said something interesting to me, that she’s never seen me get so nuts over somebody. Like, somebody-medicate-me nuts.

This whole having-one’s-heart-invested thing was foreign. And unprecedented. And I certainly don’t expect a repeat performance. I’m back to “live and let live.” It’s easier for all of us. And frankly, it just works.

Today I resolve to let go of Whorothy. I mean, I will continue stalking the shit out of her, I’m sure. 🙂 But I don’t have enough mental real estate to house her anymore. I never did.

This also means no more jokes or zingers (even though I just thought of a whole bunch of ’em). That’s because that isn’t me. Anger and frustration and HURT more than anything was the basis of my demented sense of humor toward her.

I was happier before I knew of her existence and I think letting go of wanting to mow her over with a moving vehicle might help me get back to that point.

I want to be the person I think I am … the one so many people seem to think I am … the one that I see in others that I feel like, of late, I can’t measure up to. And that means sending as much love out into the world as I possibly can. Perhaps this time it won’t get lost in the mail and I can finally, finally make this world a better place like I always planned.

I had a friend up in D.C. from the Ye Olde Employment Establishment days whose work I went to see in the artsy community a few weekends. One weekend I met her family and I made some sort of comment about her husband’s anti-Democrat political views. (She and I are Blue Dog, baby.)

She warned me to never, ever, never ever NEVER marry someone with opposing political views because it’s a stress you may THINK you can live with but the truth is it really makes life worse.

They’re divorced now.

I tell you this story to admit that I found ol’ Whorothy’s Twitter account recently. How in all my exhaustive stalking did I miss this? Oh my God. Everything I imagined and so much less!

I was on my kick of, “Well maybe she’s not so bad.” So I was trying to find something attractive about her photos. Or maybe find something she wrote somewhere that perhaps I might have agreed with.

And all altruism flew out the window with my discovery of (more) vitriolic nonsensical political bullshit. Fine, you don’t like my party or my president. But to be so rabid about it while using your real (and business) name?

I’m trying out “pity” as a reaction instead of disgust. Perhaps I should tell her No. 1 fan about my friend who warned me against the opposing-views thing. Or, just blog it and forget it. Yeah, let’s go with that.

It’s one of those no-good-very-bad days about which I shouldn’t write. Mostly because it’s also one of those “outside looking in” days and I’m feeling like my tolerance for those has ended.

It got me to thinking about ol’ Whorothy. Which caused immediate indigestion. But which enlightened me to so many things.

I am awesome. Nah, I am fucking magical. And I am sick to death of trying to keep convincing people of it. Especially when they seem to think others are more magical.

I rage so much against ol’ whorebag because I can’t rage where I really want to. And while I don’t care so much about people’s opinions of me because I know I am the epitome of awesomeness, it gets pretty damn wearying to continually have Baby being put into a corner. Baby belongs in a corner office with a corporate car, a black AmEx and an unlimited travel budget.

And when you’re on the outs enough times, you really genuinely lose your drive to ever want to be on the inside again. And the sad thing is when nobody seems to miss you.

Sadder still when you realize it doesn’t even matter to you anymore, either. Of course, I’m still waiting for that day.

I’m going to start with the good news because that’s all that counts, right?

I got asked out yesterday by someone 10 years younger than me. He’s cute and sweet. I polled some folks to ask whether it’s time to unleash the inner cougar and it’s a resounding YES all around.

So, um, squee!

On the other side of matters, [redacted]*.

* Yeah, let’s just focus on the positive, shall we? Maybe it will bring more positive things.

So, I admit, I expected one or both of the gals to be completely different than they were. Which shouldn’t have surprised me. My friend is so damn nice that it only makes sense that he’d know cool people.

Of course, he’s always told me I remind him of the one girl. So I figured she had to be an angry asshole, too. 🙂

So, this all begs the question … you all KNOW there’s one person I talk about on this site upon whom I’d inflict physical harm if I could get away with it. What if … she isn’t as much of an asshole as I imagine her to be?

Nah. Hating her is my last acceptable vice. Not quite ready to let go of it. Because accepting her is pretty much admitting defeat. It’s been a long, hard road to accept that everyone else but a certain guy seems to find me magical. To put her in the “tolerable” category would be the equivalent of saying she’s magical, too, in her strange way.

Of course, I could offer that black magic is about the only way I could understand certain turns of events …