my kind of weather

Weather-wise, today was a typical March-to-April day.

I try and get to church every Sat (except if I know John won't be there of course) and I have to catch two different buses to get within walking distance. While waiting for the first around 2:30 this afternoon it was lightly sprinkling, overcast and chilly with a breeze. By the time I got to the transfer point to catch the second bus it was a not-quite downpour. I seem to be cursed with waiting in the open because all the stops I have to wait at don't have shelters, so I was soaked after five minutes.

Right now you may be asking why I didn't bring an umbrella if it was raining when I left. The thought crossed my mind as I checked my watch for the second time in five minutes. Then I mentally reviewed my list of why I didn't/don't use an umbrella.

1. They're unwieldy in confined spaces, such as a bus door.
2. It's one more thing to carry, and I already had a backpack and jacket to keep track of.
3. It only keeps my head dry and doesn't keep the wind out, the rest of me gets wet and cold anyway.
4. When I get where I'm going it makes a puddle, most likely on the carpet. If I wanted that I'd buy a small hyperactive dog.

Besides, there's something in the depressing aspect of getting totally soaking wet that appeals to me. When people see me trudging stolidly through pouring rain, shivering and looking like a half-drowned rat, I find comfort in that the outside mirrors what I feel on the inside the majority of the time.

eureka

Why is it that so many 'ah-ha!' moments come after 3 in the morning? Is it just the fact that it's dark and there are less distractions present so one's mind is free to stay focused on a problem?

About three weeks ago I cited an online article on anger written by Dr. Ralph Blair, a psychotherapist from New York. In it he states (and this is loosely paraphrased because the article is long and a bit technical) that we can feel angry when someone or something doesn't live up to, or behaves contrary to, our expectations or beliefs. He also says that the feelings accompanying this lack of expectation fulfillment (fear, doubt, disappointment, disillusionment, embarrassment) can make us angry. Let's face it, no one likes feeling bad. In most cases the root of our anger is a type of subconscious frustration at our inability to change a situation outside our control. The instinctual reaction is to point the finger at someone else, 'something they did made me angry.' But the truth is I'm angry because they're not behaving like I think they should or expect them to.

Like with Dave (or even Bill). I'm not angry at him for rejecting me, I'm angry for not being able to make him accept me. If I understand this article correctly, I'm not technically angry at any one person for what they did TO ME, but rather that the situation didn't go the way I wanted. And saying it's they're fault takes the focus off my unrealistic expectations. It's just easier to blame them and feel sorry for myself than make a genuine effort at changing how I see them and what to expect of them.

Like Doc Sig's been saying all along, I need to work on these unrealistic expectations. But they say experience is the best teacher. Even after months of advice I had to figure it out for myself. Such is life.

P.S.
No pics cause I forgot my camera at my mom's. But hopefully some time this week.

back home, sound and relatively safe

Even though my mom and brother won't be home until late tonight (I'm thinking 10pm or later) all the pets are taken care of: food, water, clean box for the cats. So I had my dad bring me home early. Where my dad and I live is only a ten minute drive away from my mom's place, but I missed my own cat and my familiar things.

I recently commented to another blogger who is in the process of moving, that feeling at home is more than a place. It's a sense of familiarity and safety. For me it's just familiarity because most times I don't even feel safe inside my own head.

Tomorrow I'll put up some pics of the cats, my mom's and my own Pumpkin.

quick update on the possum

The day after that post one of my dad's co-workers used a payloader to transport said possum (after nudging it off the fence and into the scoop), loosing it behind one of the buildings. This co-worker said the possum slowly "ambled off into the weeds." As far as I know no one's seen it since. But from its behavior I don't think it was long for this world. Poor thing.

apartment-sitting

The Messengers left early this morning for Canada, not to be back until late night Mon and I'm apartment-sitting for my Mom. So except for Sat when my dad will pick me up for church, I have five days (counting Thur) all to my lonesome. But the weather's nice and there are some woods nearby so I'll be able to get out and walk so as to avoid going completely bonkers.

I miss the neighborhood out here. It's not quite the suburbs but it's a lot quieter than the middle of the city. Even though the airport is just across the river, by the time the planes get here they're at higher altitudes and therefore less noisy than where my dad and I live.

Look what my dad found.

Technically it wasn't him that found it.

After my dad left for work this morning he called home and said, "You'll never guess what's sitting on the fence here." I hesitantly asked 'what?' (sometimes my dad has an odd sense of humor). He said a possum. Being a city kid I said No Way in a tone of total disbelief. He said that according to his boss it had been sitting there since early morning. He said it hadn't moved except to look around and didn't seem bothered by human presence, so they thought it might be sick. My dad also said that they'd had trouble with something getting into the busses (my dad drives for Minneapolis & Suburban) and this was most likely the culprit, probably scavenging for food scraps.

As of this post it's still there, but the boss said that since it hadn't bothered anyone they would leave it alone (not call animal control). I care about animals as much as the next person (perhaps more in some cases) but if this possum is still out there tomorrow then I'll call them myself because it probably is sick.

or....

Forget bipolar, how about borderline personality disorder. It's possible, my sister had/has it. Unfortunately Doc Sig is out of town on business or some such until mid-April. But he gave me his cell number so I may just give him a call.

further proof of loose wiring

1) Bethlehem Baptist Church (my church) does not stop for John Piper, a fact which I was slow in realizing. Though it does suffer a 'summer slump' in monetary offerings while John is on sabbatical, I think the only time there would be the possibility of cancelled services is in the event of his death. If that were the case, however, his memorial or funeral would have to be limited to family only. Otherwise nearly the entire church (all 4+ thousand of them) would try to attend. I think as far as our church goes, John Piper is akin to Billy Graham but on a smaller scale. Given this publicly appointed fame, I thought for a short time that my book group might be postponed. But no.

2) Yesterday my dad and I went to a local mall to see a movie. While there I made a point to stop in at the Yankee Candle Co. store to see if they had a particular scent. The leader of the book group I'm part of said at our last meeting that a friend of hers gave her a small candle of this one scent (about 3 inches in diameter by 4 inches tall), which by now was almost burnt out, and said she hasn't been able to find a replacement anywhere. I recognized the candle's label immediately but didn't say anything because she said she doesn't usually like to spend money on extraneous things. So long story short, instead of just looking I am now in possession of a much larger candle of the same scent which I intend to give her as soon as I figure out how. It's harder than you may think because I don't know her. I've been to her house only twice, both times for group, otherwise our paths would never have crossed. And did I mention I have a crush on her husband? Though not a crush per se. Very much, though in some ways dissimilar to what I feel for Dave.

I keep coming back to this problem. A curse on my father for his indifference (this could extend back for generations considering my great-grandparents were extremely Swedish).

3) After Dave's (probably definitely misconstrued) attempt at communication, my imagination went to work thinking he'd call and ask if I wanted to have dinner with the family. This fantasy was soon dismissed though, I've (almost) learned my lesson.

catch-up and confusion

I'm ok. I am mad at Dave, but right now self-doubt is putting a halt to any and all action I might take. So he's ok too.

I was cruising Google the other day and came across an article on anger written by Dr. Ralph Blair, a Christian therapist in New York.

http://www.ecwr.org/resources/ralph/speeches/anger.html

The introduction is focused on examples of anger in political and religious arenas, then it goes on to Paul's Ephesian letter in the Bible. The third section is where it starts to get good, where Blair talks about what anger is. It's long but it's worth reading. This article helped me step back and think, it was very informative and rang true in a lot of places. Just like that I was no longer charging headlong into destruction. I know that probably sounds a little Shakespearian, but that's the closest I can get to describing it succinctly.

I'm starting to wonder if there's some bipolar in me because I do this a lot. I come to the brink of anger and hostility, then someone or something makes a very persuading point or argument and I'm alright for awhile, gregarious even. Go figure.

Tonight was the second meeting of the women's book study group I'm in. Nothing of note to report other than the usual anxieties of being social with people I don't know. After group I again got a ride to church to get a ride home from my mom after Messengers' rehearsal was over. When I first got there I peeked in the room quick-like to let my mom know I was there (and I secretly dared Lotis to say something) but spent the rest of the time in the hallway reading.

Lotis didn't say anything, but after rehearsal was over Dave and his kids walked out and past me. I'd already passed him twice on the way in but kept my head down and my mouth shut in respect for the space I agreed to make. However, as Dave walked past on his way out he said hi. I said hello back figuring he just didn't want to appear rude. He then continues by asking how I've been, I say "fine, fine". Then he tells me he saw my dad drop by earlier. By now I'm confused and wondering to myself, "So are we talking now?"

The reason for my confusion is that Lotis was adamant about creating space, a kind of cool down so I could get myself 'straightened out'. So why was Dave attempting to engage me in polite conversation? Was it simply that I was there and he didn't want to be rude? Or have I been doing a better job than I thought at seeming to be over him? Because I'm not.

I can admit it now, I am obsessed with Dave. Not a dangerous, stalking kind of obsession, but what I have for him is unrealistic expectations coupled with a twisted mix of fatherly affection and physical attraction. It would probably be less so at church or Messengers' rehearsal because those places are neutral (in a way). But even there.....

So here I am again, torn between two wants. Do I let whatever this is play out or do I do the right thing? But what is the right thing? I don't even know what his current perception of me is. Is he testing the waters because he thinks I'm doing better? If that's so, how do I tell him to stay away when I said I would keep my own distance?

I'm over-thinking things again.


Also, John's dad died at 12 AM on Tue the 6th. You can go here to read John's account.

"Hello, My Father Just Died" - a 'Taste & See' article from desiringgod.org

what the hell?

This was either a one-time thing or I'm more of a spur-of-the-moment harmer than a planned out one. Maybe it really is all in my head and I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I scratched on my hand last Thur, so healing is well on its way. After my unplanned disclosure in today's earlier post I was feeling decidedly on edge. I thought, "If this whole self-injury thing I'm doing to myself is for real, let's just see." I tried to peal the scabs off my hand but only got four of seven, because it hurt dammit!

So I guess physical pain is not my way to cope. Too bad for them.

I could've been watching CSI

I kept the scratches on my hand hidden during church precisely because they were not inflicted in the mindset of attention-seeking. But wasn't I also saying in my previous post about not being ashamed about it, that if they couldn't understand it would be their problem? I guess I was just afraid of not being believed if/when they asked and I told them that it was simple (naive) curiosity.

However....said infliction happened four days ago. Since then (after further analytical consideration) I've come to the conclusion that

better me than John or Dave or Bill or Doc Sig, or anyone else.

What the hell, call a spade a spade for fuck's sake. I'm mad at Dave (as well as others) and it was him I was thinking of when I was scratching. I was thinking of how I want him to hurt because he hurt me. I trusted him, he was supposed to understand. Instead of taking out my anger on him (like I've wanted to for weeks) I took it out on me. Hell I'm just as much to blame and for a multitude of reasons.

So there's the truth of it. I wasn't planning this revelation, but there it is.

In other news of church, another guy from my short-list was at prayer group. He used to be the youth leader when I was in the church's Jr/Sr High group. Had a huge crush on him (this was pre-surrogate dad) and we were and still are friends. John is currently in South Carolina with his 80-something year old father who is on his way out, probably very soon. John left this past Fri and didn't preach on Sat, another pastor had to fill in. So I went out in the snow and mush for nothing.

hear me, I beg

A fellow blogger, Tom Atkins from 'The Creativity Blog', once asked that people reading his poetry not assume his emotions are accurately reflected in any given poem, or series of them for that matter. He said that some were written in the heat of the moment, but that others were composed over longer periods and encompass a wide range of feelings. It is on this premise that I based the tagline of my own blog, "start from the beginning" because no one post shows all of what I try to communicate. At times I have posted twice in one day or for three days straight in an attempt to find the words that fit. Many times I have purposely not written about something in particular for fear of being misunderstood or taken out of context, as what happened with Dave. I've already put a lot of me into this blog and would be severely dismayed to find myself flagged by an errant reader and subsequently suspended from Blogger for no reason I could see.

On that note, I give you the following.

Much of my life is a dichotomy, a collection of opposites. I examine many things from an intellectual standpoint but then base my decisions solely on the perceived emotional fallout (I am currently trying to change this). When I was younger (in grade-school) I felt older than my years, now that I am older I feel stunted in my psychological/emotional/intellectual growth. I plan out scenarios in my head for how a given situation should play out, then keep silent and distant from any interaction. I make it a point to examine an idea six ways to Sunday from an intellectual point of view, then commit some immature or spontaneous act of randomness that could be misconstrued at least a dozen ways. This last especially. Sometimes I over-intellectualize a decision (like being honest with Dave) and by the end of my own argument I can't see the forest for the trees and end up leaping before I look.

Self-injury is not something I do, but last night (spur of the moment) I scraped 7 gashes into the back of my left hand with the end of a paperclip. I did this partly because I just wanted to see what all the hubbub was/is about (my sister used to do this kind of thing to get all kinds of attention). But attention-getting in the normal sense was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment of action. In fact it was only afterwards that I thought, "Oh right, I'll have to hide this come Sat." It was after the fact that I started thinking of what I would tell people who asked, and I know they will ask. I don't see the big deal, but so far the only one that's seen it is my dad (and his reaction was a little disturbed/disturbing). I'm thinking now that I'll get more attention than I ever wanted. But that's what I mean about jumping into it with both feet and not considering with common sense what I'm doing.

Doc Sig says I am afraid to be spontaneous because I've been burned in the past, but it seems every time I am spontaneous (i.e. trying to find something that's genuinely me) something like the above pic happens. I don't know how to channel my tentative attempts of individuality into a socially acceptable area. Part of me says I shouldn't have to as long as I'm not doing something that endangers anyone. All I can do is explain as best I can that I am in no danger of going off the deep end, it's no big deal. If by then they don't understand, that's their problem not mine. I can hear some saying that if I keep up this behavior no one will want to be around me, it will bother them even if it doesn't bother me.