"...Mother Mary calls to me..."

Sometimes, especially when I'm having a rough time, I miss church.
No, not quite. I miss the idea of church. I miss what I always expected church to be.

I was raised Christian, and it's still ingrained in me to turn to God when I need help.
Now if only it would actually help. It's always been--at best--ALMOST enough to help. Of course, then I'm left with a nagging hole that feels not just empty like before, but like a vacuum. It's like God and the church and the fellowship I was supposed to find there was all a tease and it feels like a cruel trick.

I'm so happy for those that ARE fulfilled by God and the church and all that can come with it; it sounds amazing. I got a taste of that at the Unitarian Universalist fellowship in Corvallis; you could believe anything you want and be whatever kind of person you were and live whatever lifestyle you love and they would not just accept it, but celebrate it. There, "God" was in the love we gave to each other.

And then I moved. Ten years later, here I am, searching for peace of heart and unconditional love and acceptance and coming up short. I feel like I should be able to find it in myself, but...

Ah, well. That's what kitties are for, right?

Edit: Oops, the lyrics in Let It Be are really "Mother Mary comes to me". I like my version better. ;P

Stabilizing.

Things are getting better. More importantly, things are feeling better. (Sometimes things can be fine but not feel fine, and that's just as bad as things not being fine, although not quite as bad as things not being fine but feeling fine anyway. That's just dangerous.) I'm not feeling quite as much self-hatred, although I did struggle with some paranoia this morning. I got through it though.

I wish my sleeping schedule would normalize. I bet that would help.
It probably doesn't help that I haven't been sleeping in my bed.

This is where I slept last night:

I know you're jealous...

Usually all of those pillows and blankets stacked up on the right are spread out a little more, either piled into roughly the size and shape of a bed or strewn across the entire apartment for sit-your-butt-down-anywhere Roman lounging. I had stacked them as compactly as possible to make room for my massage table yesterday, but I still insisted on sleeping on that thin strip of cushions rather than my queen size bed. I will likely do the same tonight.

-----------------

So! I got a very exciting piece of mail today!

I got my first letter from Diego, the child in Guatemala that I am sponsoring.

"Hello Dear Miss Wiebenson,
Thank you very much for choosing me as your sponsored child. I hope this letter finds you healthy along your family. I want to thank you for all you have done for my support. Your support is so useful for me. I have overcome many economic situations to live happy. Let me tell you that I help at home. I close with so much love.
Diego Felix Gonzalez Suar"
Or at least that's what the translators say it says. ;)

Also, he drew me a picture!

The next 8 years are going to be awesome.
I'm going to work on my reply tomorrow. :)

Angry depressed ranting.

I just had the following conversation with myself, out loud:
"Do your taxes, Martha!"
"No! I don't wanna!"

You see, I'm experiencing this right now. Also this. It's a bad combination. I am managing to do the very basics to not get fired/evicted/kicked out of writers' group, but that's pretty much it. I am sure I'll get my taxes done on time because my fear of the consequences of not doing so is I'm sure greater than the dangerous emotional cocktail I have going on that's making me fail at life right now.

Oh god, I smell smoke.
And apparently I'm paranoid.
Back to it, Martha!
Shut up, they'll think you're crazy!
Seriously though, I smell smoke.
It's probably not the apartments burning down.
Shut up.

I don't know how much my current emotional state is due to brain chemistry or how much it is just the self-inflicted trials of life getting to me.

There are people who love me and care about me and I know everybody fucks up sometimes, but it doesn't seem to matter. I'll get self-abusive mentally and physically, which just makes me feel crazier and like nobody should love me or care about me because I'm just too much goddamn trouble. I feel like I should just go away. I don't mean suicide, necessarily. Mostly just social suicide. Stop talking to people on the internet or in person. Just go to work to make money to live and go home. If you don't interact with people, you can't hurt them and they can't hurt you.
Just barely exist until you don't.
I was crossing a street... yesterday? day before? I don't know anymore... and I didn't look first. It was no big deal; I knew that street almost never had traffic. But still I scolded myself for a moment until I realized that I kind of didn't care right then that I didn't die. I knew it was selfish and stupid and that I should care about the pain it would cause other people if I died; you know--those people I mentioned who love me and care about me and DO care whether or not I get hit by cars.

I still smell smoke.

I don't even know what I'm getting at, here. I've already thought several times about just erasing all of this, but now that I don't have someone dictating what I should or shouldn't say or feel, I'm going to try to get back to this being unfiltered expression because that's what this whole thing is supposed to be for.

It's really ironic; I have a mental block about keeping a journal, because I have never had a private journal remain private. Someone always feels like they have the fucking right to look in it for whatever reason. No thoughts to myfuckingself. Can't keep a journal but I'm fine making a public blog. Whatever.

I hate self righteousness.

I need a hug but I don't feel like I deserve one.

I don't smell smoke anymore. I guess someone put the fire out.

Good riddance.

Life sure is crazy.

I've been going through changes. Moving to Portland was a huge step for me toward trying to make my life MY life. I've been doing new things and getting back to old things and generally trying to take better care of myself.

Things didn't go the way I knew they should have.

I was supposed to get out of the unhealthy relationship I was in.
I did, but it took way too long and it didn't happen the way it should have. I'm still kicking myself about it.

Looking back on that relationship, I'm scared. Note to self: if someone has to work that hard at convincing you that they aren't manipulating you, when it seems to you and everyone else that they are... they are.
I think it's pretty common knowledge that I was not perfect in that relationship. I did a lot of stupid things that hurt quite a few people.
But that's just it... it was stupid, not outright manipulative. I had crazy boundary issues, it turns out. And I would panic when I got caught making stupid mistakes and I would then lie to try to save my ass. These are stupid things that just cause more trouble.
But again... "stupid"... not manipulative to control situations and people and achieve a certain end, and certainly not mean.
I have had it wished on me that I be with someone like me. (To clarify, this is meant as a bad thing.) I think in that scenario I would be very understanding. I know how much it hurts to mess up and disappoint your partner and yourself. The difference is the heart behind it. I want to be better. I don't want to hurt people. I would recognize that in "someone like me" and try to help. What I can't handle is my partner being truly manipulative and spiteful and mean... things like calculated statements and actions meant to drive barbs into my most sensitive feelings... things like being "led from behind", causing me to make decisions that I had to say I came to on my own when really I didn't feel like I had any other choice... things like what I experienced over the last several years and just took... because I was the bad one and I deserved it.
I've gotten a bit better. I'm better with boundaries and I'm better with honesty and I'm better with thinking things through. I'm still not doing great at those things, but definitely better. Maybe I just needed better motivation. Maybe I needed different environment.

I have a lot of work to do still, and I'm still being stupid and hurting myself and others. I am grateful to see that I am changing a bit, though.

Moreover, I'm grateful to be able to start putting the last several years behind me. I think that's helping a lot.

So good riddance.
On to bigger and better things.
Hopefully I won't mess those up.
Hopefully I haven't already.

God, I'm scared.

Get out the time machine...

You know how sometimes people ask silly questions like "if you could go back to any point in your life but retain the knowledge you have now, what would you do"?

I was thinking about that tonight.

I would go back to 15. I started dating when I was 15, and that's when everything went wrong.

This probably won't make sense to people who don't know me very well, but I bet you can get the gist:

I would go back and tell 15 year old me that even though I'm allowed to date now, I should wait until I find a quality guy rather than dating the first guy that would have me. I would say, "Pay attention to your feelings. You hate Travis. Don't date him! Wait for Jonas. He's sweet."

Then when dating Jonas, I would tell myself to not break up with him, but to communicate about how I feel so maybe things can get better.

Then, if life still progressed the way it has, I would tell myself to stay the fuck away from Tino. From there, I'm sure life would be MUCH different.

Speaking of which, May 11th this year will be 10 years since Tino raped me. This really brings home to me that I was such a child at the time. It makes me sad. Of course, all rape is sad.
You know the good thing about this year, though? On May 11th, I will be in FREAKING DENMARK. With any luck, I won't even remember what day it is.

Life is horrible and beautiful. Both aspects make me cry.

Just put me out of my misery and hire me already!

AAAAUUUUGH

I hate doing follow-up calls after sending my resume!

I think part of me is always afraid that they're going to say that my resume sucks and I suck and they don't know why anyone would want to hire somebody so sucky.

Anxiety much? XP


Also, I keep switching between feeling like this and being maybe overconfident. I think about all the clients who have said that I do the best massage ever, and I start thinking everyone should want to hire me.

The "happy medium" here is that I know once I get the hiring manager on the table (any clinic, spa, etc should do a "practical interview" as well; otherwise maybe you don't want to work there ;) ) I will blow them away. I know give good massage—relaxation OR treatment. It's just the process of convincing them that they want to give me a practical interview that I get anxious about.

And how is your relationship with your parents?

I think I might stop going to my counselor.
It's been seeming like she focuses on the wrong things; today when I brought up what I feel I really need help with, she said that our relationship is too young to work on that stuff and she suggests I wait until I get to Portland and find help there. I don't know; we're supposed to start doing mindfulness exercises next time, so I'll give that a try, but if it's something I can do easily on my own I think I'll stop seeing her. I could be putting my money and time to better uses right now, I say.

Oh, hormones...

I'm usually not one to have PMS.
Yesterday, however, I was a weepy mess.

I realized this might be Sunrise's and my last Thanksgiving together as a couple, and that made me weepy.

There was an old woman at the McMenamins Thanksgiving buffet. Sunrise said he had to tell her what some of the items in the buffet were because her eyes weren't so good anymore. He also said she was talking to herself a bit. We were seated across the room from her and saw some people invite her to their table since she was sitting alone. She declined, and we could see her still muttering now and then. I said, "Maybe she's not talking to herself." And Sunrise said, "Maybe she's not sitting alone." I got all weepy again.

Later, at home, Sunrise and I were watching Santa Claus: The Movie. There's a scene in the beginning in which the man who would become Santa gets stuck in a blizzard with his wife and two reindeer. Guess what? That made me all weepy.

I can't wait until my hormones normalize again. XP

Twenty-six and a half years of what?

I've always been a quiet person, at least when first getting to know someone. Usually, if I don't have something of worth to say, I just don't speak. (see picture at bottom of post)
I've also noticed over the last few years that I have grown so accustomed to people talking over or for me that I'm not good at speaking for myself when I do get the chance.

Today I was at dinner with two people who are both very dear to me.

They have both been places and done things.

It made me realize that I really haven't.

So I spent most of the dinner silent.
I must be a really boring person. :/

This just in!

So, remember how I said that reading and writing (for enjoyment) seemed to be helping more than the counseling?

Today my therapist said that I should keep writing, as it is "extremely therapeutic".

Go figure. ;)

So bully to this; I'm gonna work on my book now! I don't have anything interesting AND real to say here at the moment anyway. Might as well make up something interesting to say in my book. Lather, rinse, repeat.

big long LOVE post

I've been thinking quite a bit about love over the last few years... and especially lately.

Fair warning: this may seem a bit jumbled.

There are so many different kinds of love... And is any one kind better than another? Deeper, sure. But better?

I have loved some of my friends more deeply than I have loved some of my boyfriends.

I have loved multiple people the same way, I have loved some people the way I should have loved other people, and there are people that I have loved in ways that I could never love anyone else.

I also have noticed that I very rarely stop loving someone. With the exception of my first boyfriend and this mistake from a few years back that makes me shudder, I still have feelings for everyone I've ever loved.
For instance, somewhere inside me is the first grader who was so smitten with Devon that she secretly kissed the top of his head through his baseball cap in the middle of storytime. There is also the middle schooler who wrote poetry about Kyle's eyes. There is the high schooler who got heart flutters and couldn't keep from grinning every time Justin made that face.
Of course these things don't translate to present day; Today-Me has no feelings for Today-Devon or -Kyle or -Justin—I can't say I even know them anymore. The feelings are still there, though—and they are still very real.

When I was 18, someone asked me if I thought it was possible to love two people at once. I said yes. I still would say yes, because of how many different ways there are to love someone. I understand why people would say no... It's the whole "I love you with all my heart" thing, right? I get that. I have known people who love like that. I'm not sure if I've ever loved like that, though. I feel like my heart is crowded... and yet it keeps growing to let more people in. I don't know if anybody can have all my heart. That makes me really, really sad. I want to be able to love the way so many people want to be loved. I just don't know how to stop loving unless the love turns to hate. I don't want to keep hurting people, but I think this is really hard to understand if you are one of the "all my heart" people. I don't want to have to clarify my exact meaning every time I tell someone I love them.

Sometimes I feel like the song Cactus Tree by Joni Mitchell:
"There's a lady in the city
And she thinks she loves them all
There's the one who's thinking of her
There's the one who sometimes calls
There's the one who writes her letters
With his facts and figures scrawl
She has brought them to her senses
They have laughed inside her laughter
Now she rallies her defenses
For she fears that one will ask her
For eternity
And she's so busy being free
...
She will love them when she sees them
They will lose her if they follow
And she only means to please them
And her heart is full and hollow
Like a cactus tree"
It isn't an exact fit, but pretty dang close.

Is it ok to be this way? Does it make me a bad person, or a shallow person, or... something?

When I get thinking about this stuff, I usually end up thinking that I should only have friendships. But I so easily get carried away...

Anyway, I think at this point I'm going to start talking in circles, so I guess that's all for now.

"Mind over mood."

I am going through cognitive behavioral therapy, facilitated by the book Mind Over Mood and weekly appointments with a psychiatric NP.

I'm trying to be more stable. I'm tired of feeling like there's a storm in my brain. I'm tired of feeling so guilty for all of the consequences of my bad choices. I'm tired of not understanding why I do certain things. I recognize that certain traumas in my past have affected how I have perceived the world and how I have reacted to it. I have hope that dealing with these traumas will help me reprogram myself and see things in a more accurate way.

And yet . . .

For some reason... in some way... I am attached to my neuroses. Maybe I feel like they make me special? Or profound? Or maybe I feel like I deserve them.

I want to get rid of them.
But then I'd be normal.
I've grown to be proud of my weirdness.
So I don't want to get rid of them.

Maybe the real problem is that I feel like if I get rid of my neuroses, I won't be me anymore.