Everything Stays the Same

It has been over 2 months since I last posted.

In 3 days it will be one year since Daddy died.  Wednesday it will be 52 weeks, Friday it will be 365 days.

I still can't make myself say "passed away"
That's too gentle and easy.  It's not heartbroken enough.  As someone who prides herself on choosing the right word to evoke the desired emotion or feeling, passed away just doesn't do it.

A friend of my mom's reminds her
You'll never get over it,
but you will get used to it.


I kind of don't want to. It has been a year and I still rail at God for what He took away.  I still shout at him that It's not supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

And I look around at my life.  And nothing has changed.  Except for a broken heart.

I am still in the same cozy 2 bedroom apartment.
I still have the same solidly running American-made car.
I still have the same job (basically) that I've had for 3+ years.
I still have no savings to my name.
I still have over half my credit card available limit used up.
I still have 3+ started novels that haven't gotten finished. And I haven't edited the first one I did finish.
I still haven't gone back to school.
I still haven't launched my freelance business.
I still haven't learned piano, in spite of specifically asking for a keyboard for my birthday last year so I could learn.
I am still single and just hope and pray that someday, someone will see a beauty and value in me that makes him want to stick around for more than a few dates.
I am still well into the "overweight" BMI range.
I still haven't memorized any more Bible verses.
I still have utterly sporadic and completely inconsistent "quiet time."
I still haven't started any of the groups I said I wanted to start.
I still wish I had said that one thing to Dad that I put off until it was literally too late to say.  I said The Important Stuff.  But there was this one thing. And I don't honestly think it would have made any difference to anything, but I still wish I had told him.

I am getting used to the broken heart.  I am still in shock.  I can go days and sometimes weeks before it really hits home that he is gone.  And the weirdest stuff sets me off.  Random lyrics that have nothing to do with loss.  Watching an episode of Bones where Booth finds out his dad has died.  My dresser being broken ... the dresser that Daddy put together for me.   And of course the obvious stuff.  Anniversaries and holidays.  Red Trucks.  Old school country songs.  Going to the cemetery.  Not being able to go to the cemetery because it is in Iowa.

And everything stays the same.  The whole of my life is almost identical to what it was a year ago.  I have the same questions for Dad and the same insecurities.  I have the same habits and pitfalls.  I still cry much too easily and don't talk directly to people about things I want to say or want to know.

Since I know most of you are my friends and know me personally, I know some of you are shaking your heads and saying that I've changed a lot or I've come a long way or whatever.  But that list has not changed. And that list are the things that Daddy would notice.  He probably wouldn't notice if I had gotten over an insecurity or two, he would notice if I could afford to buy myself a couch.  He wouldn't notice if I had memorized more Bible verses, he would notice if I was keeping my car clean.  Yeah, maybe he would notice, but he wouldn't have said anything.  He was truly, literally a man of very few words.  And I had so hoped that losing him would change something in me and make me more like him.  But so far .....  not so much.

So far ....  Everything stays the same.

~day 28~ End Point

This month of posting has stretched me. A Lot.  Which I've said previously, so I won't harp on it.  After this post goes up I will have 3 more posts and be able to proudly say I blogged every single day for an entire month about Hope.  That sounds kind of impressive.  The novelist in me doesn't think it sounds as impressive as "I completed a 55,725 word novel in 30 days, less than 30 actually."  But, opinions, beholders etc.

Tonite, hope takes the form of knowing there is an end in sight.  I won't be letting anyone down if I don't post anything next Tuesday night.  I won't be adding yet another thing to my lengthy list of things I never bothered to finish (like my last novel currently is).  I can see the end.  I can see the rewards.  I've gotten encouragements. I know this will not last forever.  Yes, I realize this may sound quite dramatic and woe-is-me.  Yes, that sentiment would be an exaggeration for this actual situation.

But in real life, there are a lot of situations in which we lose our hope because we don't see the end.  We don't see things being any different in a month or 3 months or a year.  It is hard to keep hoping for our heart's desire when we can't see any form of fulfillment in our near future.  Especially when we see those around us getting their heart's desires and sometimes their own version of exactly the thing you desire.  It is hard to watch yet another friend, younger than you, get married and you have had exactly 1 date* in 7+ years.  It is hard to go home to an apartment, no matter how lovely, after leaving a friend's beautiful home.  It is hard to listen to someone talk about how easy it was for them to lose baby weight when you can't seem to pry off even a few ounces of cupcake weight.

Much more importantly, it is hard to have hope when a loved one battles for their very life.  Intentionally putting poison in their body that makes them violently ill in the hopes that the poison will only kill the thing inside of them.  It is hard to have hope when you truly have not met any decent, single, available guys within a reasonable age range in years.  It is hard to have hope when you carry something around inside of you that can be managed but not cured.  When there is no cure on the horizon.  When those around you don't even know that you have this thing because it is managed so well your symptoms are nearly imperceptible.  It's hard to live that for very long and keep hope.

I think I can count another blessing in the timing of my Dad's death.  I have struggled to keep hope alive probably for as long as I've struggled against depression.  I will count it a blessing that I, we, didn't have to wait for test results to see if it was working. We didn't have to try another round of this cocktail or that combination and start waiting for test results again.  I tried to have hope in the few weeks that we had.  I'm not sure I was all that successful.  I can hope that the next wedding will be easier.  I can hope that next Father's Day will sting less.   But I don't know how long I could have continued to hope if we would have had to fight for very long.  I don't know how long I could hope if I got a diagnosis of something chronic and/or incurable.

But Tonite? Tonite I can have hope because I only have 3 more posts and then begins my noveling adventure.  I think I'm going to name her Constance.  Constance Marie or possibly Constance Naomi.  We'll see what she has to say next week.

~day 16~ When you're afraid

Something happened in my church this morning.  It scares me.  It shouldn't.  Most of the people in my church don't share my fear and nearly all of them wouldn't understand it. I hold a somewhat unique position in our body.  I am effectively the only single person beyond college age who attends regularly.  There are a few divorced people, but they all have kids so they get plugged in there.  There are a few seniors as well, but they band together a bit and get plugged in with each other.  If I'm not actually, I usually feel like the lone "career-woman." Single Income, No Kids.

Having been that person for so long it surprised me immensely how many people think highly of me and are protective of me. I have not gotten used to that still.  So I am often aware and very conscious of the people, especially men, around me who I believe would step to my defense or assistance if I would need it.  So when this thing happened this morning, it hit me hard.  Much much harder than I expected.

As I knelt there nearly sobbing and obsessively repeating "I'm afraid. I'm so afraid."  God and I began to do some business.  Once I settled enough to actually hear Him I realized he was asking me if I trusted Him.  Did I trust Him to take care of me? Did I trust Him to protect me? Did I trust Him with this?  I took a few moments with that and agreed to lay the situation in His hands.  I agreed to trust Him with my spirit and heart.  I decided to give the situation time and see what God has in store for us.

This is hard.  Incredibly hard.  I am still fairly scared for a number of reasons.  (I'm not concerned for my physical safety or anything like that.  Simple emotional and spiritual concerns only.)  But I am agreeing to Trust Him.  I am agreeing to allow Him time to work and do as He wills.

That takes hope.  Again you have to be able to see the other side where things might be better.  You have to believe that God is who He has said He is.  You have to conclude that He does only give good gifts to His children.  You have to make peace with the fact that He is Soveriegn and that we cannot see the whole picture, nor can we see His end plan.  It takes hope to see those things and say "My Hope is In You."  My hope is not in the human beings that make up the rest of my church.  My hope is not in the programs that we run.  My hope is not in the (wonderful) worship team we have leading us every Sunday.  My hope isn't even in my nearest and dearest friends.  My hope is in God.  He is the only thing that has brought me thus far in life.  He is the only thing that has healed me of so many many things.  He is the only thing that holds me together and allows me another day on this earth.  My hope is in Him.  My trust is in Him.  Even when I am afraid.

~day 15~ Hope is trust

I have a few ideas for other things to write about hope, but none of them seemed to really fit for my mood tonite.  Then I thought for a second about what an odd thing it is to blog.  What a strange thing it is to write out your feelings, your deepest desires, weirdest secrets and rawest parts of your soul and not only expect people to read it, but expect them to handle you with care.  Some of us blog about some pretty heavy stuff.  We don't have to.  We could all write about Pinterest and cool stuff on Etsy.  We could write about the funny thing our kid just said, crazy thing our dad just said or that wax figure of Wayne Newton I swear was in the minivan that just drove past me.  We could choose to stay on the surface.  We could choose to stay safe.

But for some of us, that isn't an option.  Writing is a purge.  It's an impulse that we can't ignore.  It's like runners or cyclists who say that if they go too long between workouts they get twitchy.  It has taken me awhile to get here in life, but I like who I am.  I like my heart and my personality (mostly).  I like my ministries and my peeps.  I like how I inhabit this world and who I choose to spend my time with.  It has been a desire of mine for over half my life to be real. Authentic. Genuine. Whatever word you want to use for that, since some of those words have become so cliche.  When you meet me, I am who I am.  I don't hold back. I don't pull punches.  I am kind and sympathetic, but if you hit one of my hot buttons, I will speak my mind.  So, I am not capable of posting something here that doesn't line up with who I am.  More importantly, I can't post something that isn't true of where I'm at in life at that moment. I can't pretend I'm doing peachy keen if I'm sobbing my guts out about my dad.  I can't fake Life is Great if I want to punch something because another person I know on facebook got married and they are another one of those people that truly make me wonder what in God's name is wrong with me that they can find someone but I can't even get a decent date!  I can't fake it.  I won't.

So I trust.  I write my heart. I articulate my soul. I trust that you won't trample on it. Or shatter it.  Or attack me.  I trust that you will handle me with care.  I trust that even if you've never met me, that you will want good things for me.  That you will want me to be better, to heal, to grow in character and faith.  I trust that writing and sharing will do you more good than it will harm me.  So far, it has.  I thank you for being readers I can trust to care for me as my dearest friends do.

I went to Radio Shack a couple years ago to get a Digital converter box. I walked in and rather than browsing around with no idea what I was looking for or where to find it, I simply walked up to the counter. There was one man at a computer working on something, and the monitor was so high on the desk that I just barely saw the top of his head. There was a 2nd guy at a 2nd computer working with a woman on her cell plan. "Ok, only two guys in the store, I can be patient." A few minutes later a 3rd guy walks out of the back, passes right by me and walks up to someone at the very front of the store and asks if he can help them. Um, wait, hello?? Ok, i can let him off the hook, I kinda looked like I was in line, I guess. He goes back into the back, again without acknowledging me in any way, shape or form. Then the 2nd guy gets done with the cell phone lady and as soon as she turns to leave he turns to leave and goes into the back. Again, not acknowledging my presence in any way. Somewhere in this that first guy behind the computer also left and went into the back. Then a 4th guy comes from the back and starts talking to someone else about how he can help them. At this point I am having a seriously Twilight Zone/Heroes moment.

"Have I become invisible? Why don't they see me? Why don't they acknowledge me? Is it because I'm a woman? Cause I still need techy digitaly stuff. How would I know if I was invisible? That's ridiculous. People aren't invisible. Heroes was a made up TV show. That stuff isn't real. Ok, but why haven't any of these guys offered to help me???"

Then the 2nd guy, who was helping the cell phone lady, came back out and right up to the computer he was working on before and started doing something. Again, never acknowledging I am even standing there at all. Didn't glance at me, didn't smile in my direction, didn't seem to even notice my presence at all. Finally I decided to test my "so incredibly remote possibility it borders on me appearing truly certifiably insane" theory.

"Am I invisible or something? Do you not see me standing here?"

To which the cell phone helper guy jumped to and very apologetically stated that he thought someone else had helped me. Who he thought helped me, I have no idea. Why he thought anyone was helping me when I was standing in the exact same spot I had been in since I'd walked in, I don't know. He was incredibly helpful and very very apologetic after that. I got my convertor box and went home a fairly happy customer.

A few weeks ago I met a guy online. We chatted online a few times, exchanged phone #s and talked on the phone a couple times. Then we met in person. Though it was less You've Got Mail and more Must Love Dogs, it was a good meeting. Spent almost 6 hours with him that Saturday. Talked a few more times that week. Texted a bit. Set up a 2nd date. Had another nice day. Lunch and mini golf with a friend of his, hanging out on a bench being relaxed and content, while chatting about everything and nothing. Met up with him a 3rd day, the very next day, again a nice day. Had a few bumps both of those days, things were not perfect nor love at first sight. But both of us agreed definite potential for more. Two days later I got an email telling me he didn't think we were a good fit because he is recently out of a relationship and is more vulnerable than he realized and that he didn't want to take emotional advantage of me. Intellectually I appreciate his honesty and his explaining himself rather than just slinking off leaving me wondering WTH just happened.

But my heart is bruised. My hope is tarnished. Again. I find myself asking if I am invisible. Do people see me?

I keep parts of my Self back in every relationship I have. I show these sides to this friend and those sides to the other friend. I don't know that I have ever truly opened up every single facet of my heart and mind and life to any single friend. It's one thing to not get around to sharing something, that's not what I mean. I mean there are pieces and parts of my heart and thinking that I intentionally withhold from various friends. Because as the MercyMe song, Beautiful, says "Wondering if you ever could be loved. And if they truly saw your heart, they'd see too much." In my mind, if someone did see my full, true heart, it would be too much, and they would leave. Stop taking my calls, stop answering emails, stop spending time with me, leave.

I went for a bike ride after the guy cut and run and amidst the many things I thought of and prayed about I thought, repeatedly,

"I just want someone to see me. I want someone to notice me."

I have been realizing these last months and even years that for whatever reason I often feel invisible. I'm pretty sure that feeling/fear is why I can be so boisterous and outgoing and even obnoxious and loud. Because how can you not see and acknowledge that girl? Thus guaranteeing that I am seen. The downside to that is it makes my fear of being invisible become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The people in my world get so used to me being boisterous and outgoing and loud that they don't notice me when I'm not that way. I have tried to "test" this theory a few times at church and various church functions. "If I don't get up and go say hi to someone, will anyone say hi to me?" I think to myself. And I simply sit, quietly, waiting, hoping that someone will notice me. Inevitably, no one does. And my hope tarnishes again.

So I flounder. I stumble about in this life hoping that someone will help right me. Hoping that someday someone will choose to stick around after I have a (very mild) freak out about how I don't know how to date or start a relationship. That someone will see my tears and think only of comforting me, not get scared off.

That someday, somehow I will believe God. When he calls himself El Roi, which means the God who sees Me, that it will fill my heart and mind as Truth. Not feel like an empty sentiment that doesn't actually help.

That someday I won't feel invisible.

Picky much?

I read a post on Her.meneutics today. The post was good, it was a book review about a book aimed at single women and declaring that they/we are too picky. I started to read through the comments to leave one of my own because I really appreciated what the author had to say. Then I read a few of the posts and forgot what my own thoughts were.

Originally I read the post and thought

"How and why is this book being marked to Christian women? The author is not a Christian and has no problem with pre-marital sex nor with eliminating religion as a must-have in your relationship. Also, I loved your comment: I can’t help wondering where the book is that tells men that they need to “settle” for a woman who is kind and caring but might not look like a supermodel."

Then I read this:

The heart of the problem is women, especially professional women, have grown accustomed to "getting it all" in the jobs market and now this is spilling over into the selection of a mate. Sorry, ladies there now appears to be some justice for men.

and

Of course single Christian women are way too picky. Unless you are "perfect", whatever that means, Christian women will say that they "just want to be friends". On the other hand, if you are "perfect", whatever that means, Christian women will go gaga over you, even if you don't know the difference between Jesus Christ and Buddha. I accept that there are people who remain single throughout their lives because they have been called to serve God in that manner, however, any single Christian woman who desires to marry, and are not married, only have themselves and their unrealistic "criteria" to blame

and in response to other comments

you seem to be saying that, if a Christian woman is single, it's her fault, and if a Christian man is single...it's still her fault.

The whole conversation bothered me. All of it. How quick we are to judge each other. How quick we are to blame the "victim." How quick we are to Declare All That Is Wrong With (insert descriptive of your choice). And how incredibly quick we are to excuse and justify ourselves.

I posted this as a response:

As a single, 30 something, Jesus Girl in a moderately sized midwest town, I do not think i am too picky. Period. I was quite offended and hurt by citylady's comments and annoyed by a few others. but I recognize two things. 1) I didn't read the comments in order to respond to them. and 2) those people probably will not even read my comment; so I choose not to respond to them.

I live a very full life. I volunteer mentoring college students twice a week. I enjoy my church, which is in a smaller town a half hour away from my home, and has, literally, no available single men at all. I go out for dinner and lunches with multiple friends and spend time with them at their homes. I see my parents once or twice a week, every single week. I am currently building a business and have plans to launch a second one next month. I tried online dating last year and was simply not able to give it the time and attention it would need in order to have any level of success.

And I haven't even mentioned my "criteria" yet. So how can you possibly, how can ANYONE possibly declare that I am picky? That anyone else in my boat is too picky? How can you possibly? You don't know a single thing about me! You don't know my issues with self-esteem, you don't know how deeply I desire a man who loves Jesus more than he loves me, you don't know that I haven't even MET a new, possibly single, Christian man in years, you don't know that I desire a man who is considerate and will carry groceries and open doors for me. So how can you possibly read this post about this book that isn't even written by a Christian and declare that *I* am picky??

Yes, I have a list. But it is not based on Hollywood or Harlequin. It is based on YEARS of seeing my friends work on their marriages and love each other. On seeing in them what makes one work and what doesn't. On watching husbands interact with their wives and learning to appreciate the things that are much more than skin deep. I have a list of 5-8 non-negotiable items #1 of which that he be a Jesus Lover. and then I have a list of another 8-10 things that would be preferred, but are not necessary to my life-long happiness.

Multiple friends have told me that they don't know why I haven't found a guy by now. They have also in the next breath told me that they don't KNOW any single, Christian men. So, you tell me. Is it women who are too picky? or is it men who are refusing to step up and be mature, responsible men and own their own pickiness? Their own desire to have a Christian Barbie doll to sit on the couch next to them while they play video games and pine away on the porch while he goes and plays with his buddies.

Please stop determining that "all" of us single Christian women are too picky. Please stop blaming us for something that most of us would change in a heartbeat if given the chance. Please start talking with the men in your lives about their desires and lists and what they are doing to meet us. Because I, for one, will NOT ask him out. He will need to find me and ask me. Like another commenter above, if you ask, I will give you at least one date.

Can we please have an honest, caring, compassionate conversation on both sides of this issue and help each other find Jesus in the middle?

I am annoyed. A little upset. I have been tempted, on multiple occasions, over the last 5+ years to ask my friends, point-blank if there is something "wrong" with me that I need to be working on to make myself more attractive (not just physically) to men. But i have always stopped myself for two reasons.

First, I honestly couldn't handle the honest criticism. No matter how loving the source would be. I don't think I'd be able to stay friends with you if you told me that my laugh is obnoxious and puts men off because I'd never be able to laugh with you again and I'd never be able to spend time with you without wondering what else is obnoxious about me to you.

And Second, I am a Jesus Girl. I am a work in progress. I am very clear that I am not perfect. But I am working through My List in God's order and timing. I weigh over 200 pounds and I have for at least a year, possibly two. I have not addressed this yet because God had other items on My List that needed to be dealt with first. I believe now may be my season to deal with the weight and get the spiritual side of it under control, but I think we all would agree that men ought to consider potential mates based on spirit and soul and character and personality, and not on whether or not the jeans size is in the double digits.

But, somehow, this side of the equation never comes up in sermons or conversation. We never discuss how many men I browsed on ChristianCafe who were unwilling to even consider a woman who was any larger than "a few extra pounds." Most of them wanting "Athletic" "Fit" or "Slender".

What about my heart?

What about my compassion?

What about my dreams and goals for this life?

What about my laugh and sense of humor?

What about the way that I love my friend's kids and they all love me?

If you can't see past the size of my "Trunk" then you never get to see those things. You never get to see the truest heart of who I am

as a Woman

as a Jesus Girl

as a Midwesterner

as a Moderate

as a dreamer

as a business owner

as an author

And that is your loss. It takes two to Tango. There are two sides to every coin. There are plenty of places to lay blame and Declare this that or the other. But can we just not do that this time? Can we simply talk to each other? Can the men speak up and say "I asked a girl out and she laughed at me." And can we ladies apologize for what a bee-yatch that chick was? Can we ladies speak up and say "I had a guy tell me once, point-blank, that he was unwilling to date anyone who wasn't "Stunning."" And can you gentlemen apologize for his superficiality and shallowness? can we meet in the middle and see what Jesus would say to all of us, and each of us individually? Can we discuss our lists and must-haves and would-be-great-to-haves and see where we may be eliminating great partners?

Or can you just set me up on a blind date? Cause i'd be game for that too.

No Regrets - Welcome 2011!

For the first time in a long time I drove home last night with a smile on my face and peace and joy filling my heart. Just writing that out now, 13 hours after the fact brings that same "welling up" of peace and joy in my chest that i had last night.

You see, I did exactly what I wanted to do last night. I thought, in passing, weeks ago, about who might be available to spend New Year's Eve with and thought of my (former) neighbors. I was down visiting them, at their new digs since they had to move out of my building (tears were shed after their move), two weeks ago and asked what they do for New Year's. S (the wife) told me that they never make it to midnight because they both have fallen asleep by then. They have 3 small children, 3 under 5 (if you know what that means). I suggested we ring in the new year together. They readily agreed.

I (finally) got them hooked on watching Bones. Yes it's a "crime" drama, yes it's gory and has half decomposed bodies often, but the personal interplay and the small moments of comic relief are well worth it for me. Not to mention the eye candy portion of the show. So with a new shared entertainment in mind, we decided to ring in the new year with Bones and "booze." I wasn't sure until I arrived last night if the booze would be real or not, but I really didn't care either way.

I arrived in mid-afternoon, groceries in tow. Had the older boys help me cut cheese and sausage for our appetizers. Then they helped me do take-n-bake snickerdoodles from Aldi's (which are surprisingly and ridiculously good). They even helped me mix up some Banana bread. I started a pot of Litt'l Smokies too. They bought KFC and had veggies and dip on hand. The closest thing to a regret that I have is that I ate about 3 bites too many and my stomach was so full I was uncomfortable until about 3 am. But jeez that KFC was good, and the dip was good and the cheese and sausage hit the spot, and those last 3 snickerdoodles were basically worth it.

We watched 3 episodes of Bones. Paused it for 10 minutes or so to do our own toast to 2011 with the sparkling white grape juice I grabbed at Aldi's. And then finished the episode. We chatted awhile, they expressed heartwarming concern over me driving home at 1 am. And I left.

I can honestly say, for the first time in a very very long time, I made it home just as contented as when I had left! Usually I leave feeling fine and great and halfway home realize I'm alone, and my apartment is empty and that devolves into no one loves me, no one will ever love me, no man in his right mind would be attracted to this Santa belly etc etc etc.

But not last night. I had the Christian radio station on and a great song was on. I remember thinking "I should blog about this when I get home and put this song up. Or maybe make a video of my pics from this year and use this song as background music." It was followed by another great song. Then I switched stations because an overplayed song came on, and the new station had a great song on. Then that had a commercial, so I switched stations again ... and another great song was on.

Do I remember any of those songs??

No. I. Do. Not.

I'm pretty sure the very first one was either MercyMe or Casting Crowns, but I couldn't tell ya which.

that desperate single-girl voice tried to remind me on my way home that I was going home by myself to an empty apartment, no closer to a date or a husband than I was when I left that apartment. But that feeling of peace and joy overrode her voice. I simply didn't care. I had not changed my plans to put myself in a better social situation for meeting men, so my expectations weren't unreasonably high for the evening. I hadn't invited myself anywhere I didn't truly feel welcome, so there was no lingering guilt or shame, and, again, expectations were fine.

I spent the evening enjoying a tv show I love, with friends I love, who love me, and kids who think I'm great, and ultimately, spent New Year's Eve exactly as I wanted to.

Wanna know the very best part and ironic bit? I couldn't have told you that it was going to be a Perfect New Year's Eve beforehand. I had no conscious idea that what I wanted was exactly what I had planned. It just plain worked out that way for me this year.

Even on the way home, as I got off the interstate I was thinking about this blog and I thought

"The only thing that could have possibly made this any better, would have been an amazing man who thinks I hung the moon to kiss me at midnight."

But just as soon as i thought that, I also realized that even if he had been there, I'd probably have been disappointed. I'd probably have set the whole scene out in my mind, and set it up much closer to a TV episode or favorite movie than reality can ever come close to and I would have unconsciously set myself up for disappointment.

So, all of this to say. I am content. I am happy. I am enjoying the prospect of what 2011 has to bring. And, right now, I'm enjoying more Bones. I've got Season 5 to finish.

Dear Santa,

Was my only true request, the deepest desire of my heart, really too much to ask for this season?  Really?  The required components too expensive? The level of quality too high for your elves?  I didn't really want much, just ...

a man with Pierce Brosnan's taste in women,

Looks like Ryan Reynolds,



Sings like a cross between Josh Groban and Michael Buble,

 and the eloquence of The Script




And, of course, thinks I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever known and thinks I hung the moon.

Was that really too much to ask for?

You need a Champion

I watched Eat, Pray, Love with friends tonight. I expected a bit of encouragement, a few laughs, and some correlations to be drawn with my own walk with Christ. 

I did not expect to be hit between the eyes and solar plexus in two separate moments on two separate topics.

I feel oddly deflated.  One thought should be freeing.  The other should be encouraging.  At the moment, the encouraging one makes me want to cry.

A bit counter productive and very counter intuitive.

In the movie Julia Roberts plays Liz Gilbert, this woman who had written a book or two at least.  She was married and realized it wasn't working and decided to pursue a divorce.  I'm sure various uber conservative groups would lambast her for this decision, but please let's set that aside and see her bigger journey.  What's done is done, the divorce happened, it's already long past, let's move on.  She decides after her following relationship fails as well to take a year off and travel the world.  She's going to spend a few months in Italy and then on to an Ashram in India of a certain guru she admires, and then back to Bali.  The place where the whole thing started.

I admire her through he entirety of the movie.  Her courage. Her awareness that this is something she needs to do but at the same time something that is quite crazy and outside our standard cultural norms.  but not only does she travel for the experience of it, she truly immerses herself in the place she is occupying. Which is a lesson all it's own.

One of the bits that hit me was when she was in the Ashram in India. You'll have to ask me about that sometime because that one is not the focus of this post.

A light, slightly comedic moment with the man she is building a relationship with in Bali is the one that is currently making me tear up.

Javier Bardem's character, her boyfriend, has just had his palm read by the medicine man that started her down this path over a year prevoiusly.  As the medicine man is reading Felipe's palm his wife, sister, friend, companion, whatever she was person makes a comment to Liz that she needs a good man, and  he (Felipe) is a good man.  As they are leaving Liz says "I am so tired of everyone telling me I need a man." and Felipe looks at her a moment and as he's walking away from her he says

"You don't need a man,

you need a Champion."

And i almost started crying right here.  And i mean CRYING.  Not the single glistening tear, I'd already shed a few of those on the earlier poignant moment that i may blog about another day if you ask.  I'm talking break down in sobs kind of crying.  and although I don't think my friend would truly mind, I didn't think it necessary to freak her out or freak out her husband.

I couldn't even think.  It just resonated so deeply for me.  That is putting words to something I don't think i even realized i was hoping for. Something I hadn't even realized was on my list.  Something that is in fact top 4, necessary, absolutely required, under no circumstances can it be compromised.

Which makes last weekend even funnier.  Had dinner with friends of my friend. Met another friend of my friend's that I hadn't met before. (enough friends in there for you?) He is newly separated, his wife left him, and he is hitting the bar scene, and all are assuming he is hitting the "post" bar scene as well.  So for a couple of painfully obvious reasons i wouldn't want to date him anytime in the near future.  However, I caught myself a few times thinking that I wished he were interested, even if I'm not and can't/won't return the interest.  One of the things I thought was that it would just be nice to be noticed or even desired.  But deeper than that I realized he is not champion material.  At least not for me. Not right now.

So, even though i hadn't recognized it yet. Even though I hadn't put words to it yet. Even though it wasn't consciously on my list.  I was looking for a champion. I am looking for a champion.

I pondered what that actually meant. For a man to be my champion.  As I began defining it, I almost started crying again.  I've taken care of myself for so long. I've taken care of others to various degrees for so long. I've defended myself for so long.  I've done whatever was required to maintain a life for so long.  It would feel ... amazing? fantastic? freeing? to have someone else go to bat for me. Willingly. Happily. Intentionally.

Even in my prior relationships I don't think i ever felt like any of them was a Champion. Granted 3 of them were in high school, so that is kind of expecting a lot. But still.

I can't even say that all of my friends are married to Champions.  or even most of them.  Maybe I just don't see it,  maybe what would speak to me doesn't speak to them anyway.  I'm not saying it's good or bad one way or the other, but what I am saying is I have virtually no role models for this.  Am I then hoping for a pipe dream to come true?  is it like the blond who prays to win the lottery over and over and over until a voice from heaven says "buy a ticket." 

and I watch Liz as she navigates this life she is creating.  And how she goes after certain things and experiences and immerses herself in places and savors.  And I admire.  And I think, if I did something like that, could I meet my champion?  Could i show that kind of confidence in the journey?  Would that be attractive enough to someone?  because apparently the high heels aren't doing it on their own.

I don't know where to find romantic love.  I don't know where to look.  I don't know what to do.  But hopefully when I meet a man who is Considerate, who makes me laugh, who loves Jesus above all else, and has Champion in his blood, hopefully when I meet a man like that, I will recognize him and be open to the experience of letting him love me.

forget the rain, self-pity go away!

No more resolutions.

No more goals.

No more ridiculous nonsense.

As many a friend would tell me (mostly men/husbands) if I posted it on facebook,
in the eternal words of the Oh So Wise One
Yoda
There is no try, there is only do.

Or something like that.

I did WriteCamp today. Was interesting. last session was very informative. Middle session was encouraging. Lovely day spent with friends.

Saw a couple of men who might have had potential. Except that they showed no interest by the end of the day, therefore they get eliminated from my list of possiblities. Plus, I found out at the END of the day that the prime suspect is married with a kid on the way. (Dam!)

and seeing those men reminds me as it always does, that I'm single. I'm (now) 32 and still single. Gawd, that almost physically hurts to actually put in writing, together. I have moments where I wonder if it's actually worth it or not. I am fully aware that I am utterly and completely delusional about what married life would be like. My daydreams and fantasies about it only consist of the very best parts of the very best days.

I've had a roommate for almost 4 months now. Very long story, not worth the telling. But suffice it to say that I have learned I don't enjoy other people in my space. Breathing my air. Using my water. Sitting on my chair. Using my coasters, well moving my coasters really. But I wonder how much love I would have to have for someone before I am able to stop myself from snarling before 9 am.

I come home, unpack (yay for me!! I never unpack everything right away!!), and check into facebook. I must go reopen my restaurant!!! And I am reminded that a young woman I know got married last night. She is, of course, as one would expect, ECSTATIC. And in my heart of hearts, I am happy for her. It's a funny thing. This ability to sincerely be happy for her and her joy and simultaneously feel a knife in my heart for what I still lack. Not just the relationship. Goals. Plans. Dreams. Progress!

And then I come across a reality check. And I am reminded.

Apparently a friend from college will require a "minimally" invasive 5 hour spinal surgery. I know nothing more than that since I haven't seen her or her family in at least 10 years. But I still pray for them. Any surgery carries risks. Spinal surgery carries an extra series of risks.

I am reminded that people are sometimes mean to each other.

That teenagers can't see past next month, ..... if they can even get that far.

And I remember. My mom's best friend passed away over 2 years ago. And I remember thinking after she passed not to sweat the small stuff, cause it's just plain not worth it. I remember my mom's hurt, that she shared last week when it would have been her friend's birthday.

and I try. Try to count my blessings. Try to remind myself of the fullness that is true in my life. Of the excess I have. And I don't mean the 20 pounds of Santa Belly. Of the abundance in my spirit. Of the potential in my bank account. Of the health of my body and mind. Of the typicalness of my upbringing and psyche.

Of how deeply, truly, greatly loved I am. By a Creator. By friends who know my wit and my smile. By closest friends who know the deepest wells of my heart and my faults and frailties. By family who acknowledge and claim me.

Remind myself that I am loved. I am cherished. Cared for. Beloved.

That He chose to sacrifice, die, and love me! In my ridiculous nonsense. My failures. My weaknesses. My idiosyncracies. My cruel, mean soul. ME! Loved!

And I am laughing. Reminded of my best feature. My best side. His favorite sound. My Laughter.

baffling and crippling

So you know that scene in Pretty Woman when they're in the bathtub together and he says "I was very angry with my father." In a very matter of fact tone and then says that it took him $10,000, or some equally ridiculous number, worth of therapy to be able to say that.

Well, I haven't spent any money on therapy. yet.

But I am very angry.

• at a far left blogger on a website I otherwise thoroughly enjoy.
• at my current lot in life.
• at the fact that for some reason I can't seem to get any mortgage person to call me back.
• at the fact that I even want a mortgage person to call me back considering my post a few months ago about not wanting to buy a house at all in the first place.
• at the fact that i screwed up making margaritas with a friend tonight. don't ask.
• at the fact that I have apparently spent an entire extra paycheck on a small bit of jewelry and almost entirely on fast food.
• at the fact that my life is so utterly not what I expected it to be at this point.
• at the fact that I had to go into work for 2 1/2 hours today.
• at the fact that I did 5 hours last weekend and they apparently didn't even notice.
• at the fact that I will probably put in another 2+ hours tomorrow
• and next week they won't notice again.
• and the week after that I leave for a long weekend vacation for my birthday
• and will probably have to log 10-20 hours of overtime when I get back to get caught back up.
• at the fact that there are certain friends I deeply want to spend more time with and somehow can't seem to make that happen.
• meanwhile i have other people in my life whose mere presence sucks me dry.
• at the fact that no matter how many of you tell me you believe in me, i can't seem to believe that I deserve anything more or better than I have right now.
• at the fact that my neighbor has cable.
• and a wonderful husband and 2 (almost 3) beautiful, amazing boys.
• at the fact that I haven't had a date in .... 5 years?
• and the only nibble is a guy who has no interest whatsoever in Jesus or his place in my heart.
• at the fact that twice in the last month my household has been run out of toiletpaper and had to go more than 2 days before being replenished.
• at the fact that somewhere in the last 6 or so months I have taken up gritting my teeth and clenching my jaw and now have to consciously remember to loosen it. (Lori I totally forgot you toe wiggling tip!!)
• at the fact that I didn't even get halfway through my script for scriptfrenzy.org.
• at the fact that I regularly get stress/tension/blood pressure headaches.
• at the fact that I'm easily 80 pounds overweight and have no intention of doing anything about that in the immediate future.
• at the fact that I know people who think I am less of a person, less of a Christian, less of a human being for the item just above this one.
• at the fact that I can dream. Big. Huge. Ginormous dreams. And yet in the light of day can't seem to do ANYTHING whatsoever towards achieving those dreams.
• at the fact that, still, now after 3? 5? 7? years I still think on a regular basis "I want more!"
• at the fact that I can't afford cable while other people are living off of child support.

I have been saying for months that it was a big revelation last fall when I finally recognized my current 'project' / stumbling block was the level of anger i am carrying around. And I have said for months that I don't know why I'm angry. I have no reason to be angry. To look in at the life I have, it looks pretty good. But then, don't we all say it? The grass is always greener?

• You can look in here and say "But at least you have a job!" And I won't argue with you.
• you can say "At least you're not married to a complete a$$ who treats you (and your kids?) like crap!" And I won't argue with you.
• you can say "Cable is the devils distraction." And I may have a theological point to make, but I'll probably not bother to make the effort towards the distinction.
• you can say a lot of things. But none of them will make me feel any better.

None of them will fix any of those things on my list. Nothing you can say will fix it. Nothing you can do will fix it. Nothing I can say will fix it. And for some of them, nothing I can even do will fix it. So I sit here angry. Mulling over my movie choices in the back of my mind, seeing what I'll want to put in when I go to bed shortly.

And I'll wonder if a good cry would help. And I'll wonder if a therapist would help. (Yes, I know you'll say yes, you two, you know who you are.)

• And I'll beat myself senseless for spending so much money on fast food.
• And I'll beat myself senseless for getting so anxiety-ridden about pursuing my dreams.
• And I'll beat myself senseless for eating pizza for lunch. And a sub for a snack. and leftover chinese for dinner. And a cupcake.
• And more probably before bed.
• And I will stay angry. and impotent. and frustrated. and ready to scream at someone, even though i'm not a screamer and never have been. (throwing stuff is more my style)

and I will sign off, choose a movie, wash my face, curl up in bed, and hope that last Coke doesn't keep me awake too late.

The Thin Beige Line

As a single girl who has her eyes open to the opportunities in front of her I walk a thin line. I allow myself the time to be at home, alone to veg and recuperate when I need to. But I need to watch myself that I don't become the old cat lady, without the cats (for now). So, I force myself to do some things sometimes. Sometimes I cop out at the last minute. Sometimes I talk myself into it at the last minute. Some occasions are harder than others. For me personally, weddings are actually really difficult to endure. And any other situation in which I feel envy over someone else getting something I want.

Many times I go to a "Thing" with the thought

"Maybe this is the place I will meet a man who sees my heart and my mind and my sparkling eyes and isn't put off by the Santa Belly." Well, not quite that entire thing, but basically that sentiment. "You Just Never Know" is another favorite mantra.

With that in mind I often debate how much to "DO" myself up. Full 100% makeup and hair? 80% each? Full Hair, minimal makeup? Vice versa? How much do I consider the clothes? Is this an occasion for high heels??

Tonight I went to a thing. Had a good time. Glad I went. Did full 100% makeup and 80-90% hair. Considered my clothes, but not to the point of giving myself a headache or a nervous breakdown. Decided on New High Heels. Felt good about all this until I ended up walking more than 5 minutes in the heels and realized maybe this wasn't the day to break them in, but it was too late.

I got home a bit ago, around 11 tonight, and while getting ready for bed I thought to myself:

"Well that was a waste of a full face of makeup."

I run that constant debate in my head. If I don't look my best maybe a guy won't notice me long enough to catch my sparkling wit and personality. On the other hand, if you do notice and that's all you notice, you won't be around long because there are many days where eye shadow never makes it out of the compact.

I simply try to keep in mind that
the People who Care Don't Matter
and the People Who Matter Don't Care.

I try to put my very bestest foot forward when I can and when it doesn't endager my own mental health and I leave the rest in God's hands. Let's face it, if all you see is the shade of eye shadow or lip gloss I happen to be wearing tonight, you're probably not gonna stick around for the long haul. And I am definitely interested in the long haul. Which, by my definitions, does NOT include a 5 am wakeup call to apply fresh makeup!

unworthy

I put a status up on facebook last week that said:

watching big loser. wishing i had someone to tell me they believed in me. They believed I could do anything. they believe I could lose 60 pounds. They believed I could write a beautiful, publishable New York times bestselling novel. They believe love can find me. :'(

And, yes, there was a fair amount of "fishing for compliments" in my allowing myself to publish it. Because when was the last time you told someone you were proud of them? That you believed in them? When was the last time you said it without cynicism or a voice in your head telling you that you're "supposed" to say that whether you truly believe it or not?

That's the thing I love about Bob and Jillian, when they SAY they believe in you, they do. You can read it in their faces. If they will say that to you, they truly and absolutely believe that you CAN do whatever they are asking you to do. That you DO actually have more potential than you are using. But we, the rest of us, in reality, we never say that to people. I don't think I ever have.

I was pondering some things tonight. I've another idea. Another Dream I'm dreaming. And I'm pondering the possibilities, probabilities and problems and logistics of it. Do I want to try? Do I want to go for it? Am I willing to sacrifice X to get Y? Not sure. But a song came on the radio and it struck me and I paid attention awhile, and sang along. Then another song came on, and I left my volume cranked and I considered the words of that song.

And I remembered. I remembered a time when I felt so close to God that I truly meant it when I said Better is One Day in Your (God's) Courts than A Thousand elsewhere. Intellectually I still mean it, but emotionally I am mired elsewhere right now. And I don't like Elsewhere. So i prayed.

And something dawned on me. I don't feel worthy. Of anything good or worthwhile or decent or lovely.

I don't feel worthy enough to even try doing the work this change would require.
I don't feel worthy of the kind of love I'm looking for. The kind of eternal, built on Jesus, he thinks I hung the moon kind of love.
I don't feel worthwhile enough to even try losing some weight and getting healthy. What's the point? I'm doomed aren't I? Even if I could get skinny for awhile, I like my Culver's so I'd gain it all back anyway. Why set myself up for that level of failure?
I don't feel worthy of a life well lived.
I don't feel worthy to even admit I feel unworthy. I hear Steven Curtis Chapman on my radio singing about Cinderella and I remember that he is living with one less Cinderella than he had 2 years ago. His family is still hurting from a missing child that was tragically killed a year and a half ago. And that doesn't even get started on Haiti. Who am I to whine and complain about my meager problems and inadequacies?

And yet, intellectually, I know that we can't compare to one another. Steven Curtis Chapman's loss doesn't actually make my day any better. It doesn't lessen my pain. It distracts me. It can help me gain perspective, but if my arm is still broke, my arm is still broke. Finding out your leg is shattered doesn't make my broken arm any less broke.

I thought to myself, You'd think after 13 years of this life with Christ of growing with him of living with him of turning to him nearly daily that I'd have worked out this worthless thing. And yet I haven't. I still not only feel worthless of all the things above, but I feel worthless to him. Like why should he bother to help me? I scream at him and i yell at him and I tell him to leave me alone and I act like a spoiled 3 year old when I don't get my way. So why should he bother to give me anything at all? I know that all of his gifts are good and that every good thing we have has come from him .... but no parent in their right mind rewards a spoiled 3 year old's temper tantrum. So why should I expect anything different than what I have? I believe you reap what you sow, I'm simply reaping the harvest I've sown over the last few years and beyond. Nothing changes overnight.

I signed up for a dating service this weekend. And I shared a few of my insecurities with a couple of friends. They basically discounted what I was saying and contradicted me, and I try to receive the intent and love behind what they say. But they don't hear what goes on in my head. They don't hear the ridiculously terrible things I call strangers who have done nothing truly heinous to me. They don't know the truest depths of my worst traits. So, how can they truly know if I'm worthy of the attention of this guy or that one?

And that is what nearly makes me regret paying for the dating service. Is all of this enough to make me not even READY for a relationship? If a great guy came along, would I even know what to do with him? I told friends tonight that a part of me is truly afraid that one of the guys I'm talking to isn't actually interested in me. That there is some juvenile high-school-jock prank going on and i'll end up the butt of the joke. Why? Because I guess I feel like that is what I would deserve.

I'd like to say I'm just over tired. Or moody. Or "moody" And I'm a little tired. But, moreso than that, I think I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of arguing. Of feeling like I need to make you understand the ugliness inside me. Tired of feeling alone, but too tired to put myself out there for someone else to help relieve some of this burden.

And even now I think "What would possess me to think any man in his right mind would willingly and intentionally sign up for a lifetime of dealing with me and all this garbage I just poured out???????" And I'm at a loss. I don't have an answer. And I don't have a conclusion. And I'm not sure if I'm done crying yet. But I guess I am done sharing this, for now. Too bad someone doesn't start a support group for this .... but then, would any of us bother to come?

Incomprehensible

I've had a rough week.

In truth, I've had a rough couple of months. The money has been able to justify a lot of it, but not quite all.

I knew there was a "big" meeting coming. It was supposed to be Friday, and then Monday, and then Tuesday. I didn't sleep well Sunday night, so I was quite glad when the meeting was postponed one more day.

Knowing now how the meeting was going to go, I am doubly glad it was postponed one more day. Sparing you the details, suffice it to say I would have almost certainly ended up in tears by the end of Monday.

I credit the postponement to God. I asked Him to postpone the meeting. Acknowledging my selfishness and own responsibility in making my mood worse on Monday. Acknowledging that I screwed it up, but that HE was the only one who could do anything about the circumstances I didn't want to face that day. And I believe his answer that day was 'Yes.'

I don't handle meetings well. At all. I will spare you the details, but I have a physical / bodily reaction if I know a meeting is coming. In fact, even as I type that my stomach turns. So, all Tuesday morning, knowing that the meeting was going to be in the afternoon, I prayed. Off and on. As it occurred to me. As I hit a wall I couldn't deal with. As I hit anything I couldn't deal with.

And in the midst of that I though to myself:
How do people who don't have my Jesus handle this kind of crap?????
How do they do it?

I've discussed this phenomenon with a friend who also struggles with depression. We've asked the same thing about people who are struggling with depression who do not know Jesus and his power and grace and love. And Help!
How do they do it?

I don't have an answer. I don't begin to have the faintest idea how to handle work stress without my heavy reliance on my relationship with Jesus and his strength IN me.

I am having a really rough day today. Had a wonderful, beautiful dream that was the living breathing reality of my heart's deepest desire. And woke up alone, as always. I was okay for most of the day. And this afternoon my heart just twisted in my chest. And i cried. For this lost dream; that I've never even had.

I prayed. I asked him to help. I cried out and told Him that I can't do this without him. I don't know how. I'm not any good at it. And I don't want to.

And, again, I acknowledged that I fight with Him a lot. I curse at Him. I call Him names. I shout at Him to go away and not talk to me. And I acknowledged that I act like a petulant, selfish child who is just upset at not getting her way. And in spite of all that, i recognize that I do need Him to get me through this. Because no one else can even come close to helping. Even if that dream were fully realized tomorrow (which is impossible anyway since it involves a fully evolved relationship with a man who adores me and Him.) I still can't do this without Jesus.

Don't misunderstand. I'm still crying. I'm crying now as I write this. And it is one of those days, where if I'm not careful, I will simply stop moving. My mantra on these days is 'Just don't stop.' I just keep breathing. just keep walking. just keep functioning and moving through life. Just keep hoping that somehow, in the long run, when it has all been said and done and all of us are laid to rest, that it will have been worth it. That His plan would have been better than my plan. That these tears will be gathered up and counted and will be valuable for whatever they are teaching me.

but still i cry.
still I go to bed alone.
again I stay up impossibly late so I can fall straight to sleep and not consider the emptiness of my bed and the rest of my life.
again I will probably skip church in the morning to avoid fake 'okay-ness' as well as avoid the seeming plethora of Happy Marrieds.
always i wish that at least one person 'got' it all and could comfort me
ever i turn to Him.

Why I don't clean

A multilayered explanation.

The time stamp at the bottom will tell you that this is going up sometime after 1 am. That is reason #1 why i don't clean. All sorts of self-motivation, efficiency etc books will tell you to find the time at which you are most productive and seize that time to do the things most important on your List Of Tasks. My most productive time is late evening, typically after 8 or 9 pm at the earliest. Knowing that I have issues with insomnia to begin with, if the 'mood' to do something productive strikes me after 8 pm, I tend to ignore it and tamp it down for the simple fact that a) I don't want to get myself riled up and unable to sleep and b) I don't want to get part way into any project and have to be up late to finish it or decide to leave it half finished and go to bed. I don't have a great track record for finishing things in the first place. On top of all that I still have a high school complex that the 'cool' people do not go to bed before "very late" on the weekends. No matter how much sleep I have gotten in the week, no matter how much I dictate to myself that I am no longer able to sleep past 1030, I still seem incapable of going to bed on a weekend before 11, and that is being very nice to myself, typically it's closer to 12 and 1 and even 2 if I rented movies.

More recently I have realized a much more Subconscious reason for not cleaning. If my stuff is strewn about my apartment haphazardly it fills up the space and makes me feel better. Somehow if my space is free of stuff then I feel like my life and/or heart are empty. As someone who struggles with cycles of depression, I truly don't think it necessary to take chances on exacerbating an existing problem if no one else cares. I seldom have people over, the ones who do come over know how I am and know that nothing truly disgusting is laying around. It's not like I have actual rotting trash all over, no bugs, no infestations, just a lot of stuff.

I do enjoy a tidy home. I like when I walk in my door and don't smell something rank. I like walking in my door and seeing clean kitchen counters. I had to go into work today and I could have sworn that it looked like the cleaning guy had vacuumed and dusted. I realize this to be nearly impossible to actually see but I thought it.

And that brings up another reason I don't clean. I won't take the time to. I won't say that I don't have the time, I do, I simply choose to spend it elsewise. I have been working late nearly every evening lately. I recently got a promotion and am now training someone to take my old position. Assuming that she comes back on Monday (the last girl only lasted 2 days! This one already made it 4!!) it will continue to get better as she learns more and becomes more and more autonomous. In the meantime much of my time is spend directly with her or being interrupted by moments of training her. On top of which, I'm still learning my own job! After working late, I have to come home and feed myself something I forage up. I spend a few nights a week away from home doing various things with various people. I need to decompress and regenerate for the day ahead. I willingly admit that I am a facebook addict, but simultaneously would defend myself by saying that it is both distraction and relaxation. I realize how ridiculous it is to spend hours taking care of imaginary farms and fish tanks and restaurants. But it gives me immediate gratification, a sense of accomplishment and sometimes even feeds my Shopping Therapy desire.

Today I rested. That's what my Saturday's are for. I sleep in, drink coffee while reading a book or playing on facebook until I get tired of being in the chair or something else stirs me. today I had to go into work for a few hours, so I got stirred a little earlier than usual, but I'm getting overtime so I won't complain. When I got home I did up the plethora of malodorous dishes that were absolutely screaming for my attention and got supper with my lovely, fantabulous neighbors. We watched a movie and chatted awhile and when I returned to my apartment around 11, I had The Bug. And I started. I tidied a corner in my kitchen that has needed it for awhile. Then I tidied the pile o' bags o' schtuff that had accumulated inside my door, and put away all the shoes ON the shoe rack. I tidied up all my clothes laying around in my bedroom and then gathered up my laundry to do tomorrow. My living room suddenly looks (nearly) clean! and my bedroom does too.

The depression has been bad again this week. So these clean areas don't give me nearly so much pleasure as they should. Hopefully I can stay ahead of the rank and varmint-appealing level of un-clealiness. Hopefully you can see my mess for what it is, a struggle to keep up with The Stuff of Life. A Life lived alone.

Why I prefer crime dramas (lots of rambling)

Shortest answer?
They don't make me cry.

Almost any time I watch a standard primetime dramatic television series. I cry. Regularly. Last week I cried at Private Practice and I don't even watch the freakin show!

If I linger at mom and dad's on Sunday nights after Three Rivers (my only exception to this rule, and primarily an exception because of Alex O'Loughlin) I end up crying at Brothers and Sisters.

Yes, I'm a soft touch. No, it doesn't often take all that much to make me cry. Yes, it's easier if I'm tired or worn out.

A few weeks back I cried at Private Practice because Violet was giving the boyfriend guy the baby because she couldn't bond with her newborn. Here's the twist for me. I start crying because all I can think is that I may never even get the option to bond with a baby.

I cried on my way home one night because someone on one of the shows was in love. And he had professed something lovely and endearing and, yes, likely improbable in real life. But I'm not even sure any of the guys I have ever dated have professed anything eloquent enough to be put down in writing, clearly nothing worth committing to memory.

I cried tonight because i very suddenly and very deeply felt forgotten.

I am feeling invisible again. And it's been awhile, so it's kind of fresh right now.
I feel left out
left behind
cast aside
used up
un-valuable
not worth your time
or effort
or concern

.......

and I know that it is mostly untrue.

I know, in my mind, that I have good friends. And people who love me. Family who love me. So so so many kids who not only love me .... they love me unconditionally. They love me solely for showing up!

I posted a lovely post last night about contentment and peace and being full. And it was true then. And it will be true again.

Tonight I thought "I have 271 friends on facebook, and only one person thought to invite me to any Halloween 'festivities'. " Only one.

We did a personality profile at church awhile back. And I'm the type of person who absolutely thrives on parties and fun and social butterfly etc etc etc. So, any time, and I mean pretty much any time I hear that there is fun to be had or there was fun to be had and I wasn't or aren't invited, it makes me a bit sad.

But here's the thing ...
Tonight, I'm not sad because there was 'fun' out there to be had and I wasn't invited. I had a lovely evening. I got exactly what I needed, and I'm fine with that. What makes me sad, Is that I came home to an empty apartment with two fish again. I went to bed alone, again. I got up and made myself coffee, alone, again. Tonight I came home, to an empty apartment with two fish, again.

For someone who thrives in groups and with people, you would be absolutely stunned to realize how much time I spend alone. I have been fully single for 7 years. I have lived fully alone for over 2 years.

I am absolutely aware how ridiculous this sounds, but I see this lovely man on Three Rivers tell his wife how much he loves her. And she says how much she loves him. But they both refuse to make any concessions or compromises to be together and make their marriage work. And I think "I would do anythingto make that work if a good and decent man loved me like that. ANYTHING."

And I'm worried that it doesn't matter. Because the odds are stacked against me 2:3. Did you know that? I read that the other day. In an average church there are 3 single women to every 2 single men. And if I allow myself to consider any factors other than God's own Divine Providence and Intervention, then I am almost always going to come out last among those 3.

"You only get one chance to make a first impression." I have come to hate that phrase. I can only hope that I get to smile at you before you notice the rest of me. I can only hope that my first impression focuses on my laughter
or smile
or eyes
or earrings
or hair
.... or shoes! Because I am nearly convinced that if you notice anything in between first, then you're outta there. And I know that's not fair. But it feels like the truth of my world.

And I'd rather not be reminded. I'd rather not see "people" give up on love. I'd rather not see "people" fall in love. Or have babies.

And I'd rather not hear how great my life is compared to yours. And I'd rather not hear how I ought to use this time to prepare. And I'd rather not hear how the 'right' man will come along. Or the 'right' man won't notice those things in between my earrings and my shoes. I'd rather not hear how glad I ought to be that I'm not married to this guy or that guy or her husband or hers.

I'd rather immerse myself in 'reality' TV. And fringe science with incredibly bizarre and creepy theories and experiments. And a world where everyone had a vision of their future 6 months from now and they're all trying to figure out what it means. And a crime lab where they all get along pretty well, and they solve crimes 25 out of 26 shows.

I'd rather distract myself with those, than remind myself that I'm going to post this, get a glass of milk, and go to bed,
alone,
again.

A Good Measure

Luke 6:38 (New International Version)
38Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."

I got to experience that tonight. Poured into for pouring out.

We hosted a young people (20something ish) group at church tonight. I went as part of the kitchen crew for my church. Technically I don't qualify since the age range I was given was 18-30 and I passed 30 a few months back. But I went to serve one of the most wonderful, amazing ladies we have at our church. And to simply serve. And to do something I considered productive tonight.

I simply went as a servant to (basically) whomever needed me. To be honest, that level of servanthood is not my 'default.' But when I know that is my purpose and goal in the situation I can do it quite well. So I served Kay. And I tried to serve Deb and Susi.

And the group. I welcomed people a bit and directed them towards our food and pointed out the bathrooms. I helped direct/explain the food as they went through the line. I helped set up the food room. I served.

Then the group officially started. I checked in with the kitchen and the ladies were doing well without me so I joined the worship song time. It was lovely. It was fulfilling and beautiful and awe-filling. It was just perfectly, exactly what I needed. I won't be able to attend church tomorrow as I will be helping a friend with wedding plans for her wedding next Saturday. So, this time of worship was just Divinely Perfect.

I ended up simply joining the group and being a part of them. Games played, ideas discussed a little, message relayed and received. All in all a good night.

We had a bonfire, which had mostly burned out by the time I could get outside. But there was still enough to thoroughly enjoy. So, I did. I borrowed a coat and stood by the fire and pondered the new and fresh fullness in my chest.

I tweeted:
I am standing alone next to a fading bonfire in a borrowed coat, no costume, admiring the blue and green flames, and i am happy. =D

That's how full I was. I needed to share. Then i texted it to a few friends I thought might still be up. And I pondered. I realized something ...

but, let me back up.

I am single. I don't prefer this state. I have had one of the hardest months (6 weeks?) of my life and am barely coming out the other side of it. I told a few different friends during that time, and possibly before, that I am at the edge of giving up hope of finding a good man. Simply because 1) the odds are stacked against me in so many ways and 2) I wonder if it would hurt less to give up the hope than to keep hoping and being perpetually disappointed. Most of those friends were pretty encouraging, none of them recommended I go forward with my 'giving up hope' plan, but they had varying degrees of 'keep the hope' sentiments.

Two weeks ago I kinda sorta met a guy who could have good potential. (waaaaaaay long story that is simply not worth getting into at this point). Tonight I met another guy and this one I actually had a conversation with.(!!!) I gave him directions to the interstate and gave him my phone # so he could call if he got off track or anything. Even more potential there. But the first guy also knows multiple ways to track me down, in a good way, I promise! Anyway,

As I sat by the fire I prayed what I pretty much always pray when I meet a guy I am or could be interested in.

"Lord, do as you wish. You put a fire under his backside to get to know me. You do as you wish in this situation. Protect me from myself."

And as I prayed that and pondered the fire and sang a chorus repeatedly in my head and also out loud I thought

"He is doing something in me. Regardless of either of these guys. God is absolutely certain what He is doing in my life. He has a plan and he has not given up on me."

And I was just so full. If you've never experienced that sort of Divine Perfection from God, then I recommend you find a way to get there. It is definitively an experience beyond words. Even attempting to express it here feels incomplete.

As much as I remain a "Not Internally Motivated" person, He can motivate me. He can change me. He can help change my habits. He can teach me how to be different. He loves me regardless of all of that. Tonight, I will wallow in that.

That and gaining an hour that means I won't get up while it's still freakin dark outside anymore.

That's a double U, not a dubl-ya

I have said it before, I am about to say it again, and prove it too.

I do not flirt well.

Remember Ross? on Friends? Remember the Pizza Girl?

If not, just remember Ross, that'll get you close enough. (There was a video on youtube at one point, and i had put it on my old blog on MSN, but one day I went back to watch it again and laugh and enjoy, and some network muckety muck had gotten it removed. :( )

I tell these stories, and there is always a new person that I suspect doesn't believe I'm truly that bad. To their credit I am fairly crazy to begin with. And as one who considers Extrovert to be an Extreme Sport worthy of Olympic candidacy, I can see how you might doubt my utter lack of anything remotely resembling "prowess" when faced with the opposite sex.

Doubt no longer.

(Hopefully won't give any privacy stuff away)

Wednesday I had to call an insured who had missed a payment and was going to get cancelled. It's a service we do. You miss your payment, I get a notice, I call you to remind you. Only had one person in 2 years get UPSET with me for calling to reminder her of a payment. But we're not talking about her. We're talking about CuteSingleDad who purchased a house awhile back. He didn't pay his bill. So, I called, because it's my job!

Friday afternoon he comes in and I say "CuteSingleDad, you brought me money!"

He responds "Yes, because you called me. But, ya know, that's the only reason you ever call, when you want money. You never call just to see how things are going!"

Me, "Well, I'm not sure how appropriate that would be."

Him, looks at my hands "Well, you're not married are ya?"

Me .... (ready for Stupid Moment #1???) Look down at my hands!!! As if I'm going to be surprised by some fantastic diamond and say "Well, oh, my, look at that, apparently I am married! I'll have to check into that!!" Seriously ... why would I look at my hands! I've worn the same two rings for a year and a half!! And then I say "No, I'm not married" I'm rather certain there was a fair amount of scoff in my voice when I said it, but he let that slide.

Him, "Well, I'm not married either. So, there's nothing inappropriate about it."

Then he continues "Ok, so who do I write this check out to? You? Kristine? What's your last name?"

And .... are we ready for Stupid Moment #2?? And I mean SERIOUSLY STUPID MOMENT!!!

My response? To "What's your last name?" Are you ready??

"Webster ... with a 'W' "

Yep. That's what I said. (sigh)

I did sort of almost possibly salvage it, because I did realize within a second or so how incredibly moronic that sounded. And I said something in the effect of "Although that's kind of obvious, the more important is that it's Kristine with a K." Which I now realize is why I said it that way. I always say "Kristine with a K." So in skipping my first name I still defaulted into my habitual response. (SIGH)

Maybe he thought it was funny. Maybe he knows I think he's cute and finds it amusing to toy with me. Maybe he thinks I'm an idiot and is still trying to figure out how I keep my job.

If he should ever run across this, you'll probably know right away who you are. You can ask me out, I can tell you in advance, I'll say yes. to Coffee or dinner or lunch or something with your beautiful daughter. I can guarantee the first Yes. After that it's all going to be based on your character and whether or not you laugh at the rest of my jokes. Like the time I got lost on a walk within a mile of my own house in a city I was born and raised in and lived all but 18 months of my life in. yeah, that's a good one.

(Oh, and you get the candy of your choice if you can name the movie I got my title from)