What Are You Afraid Of?

During my counseling session on Friday, I told my therapist (Kat) about the previous journal entry I had written (Just Okay). I told her about my discontentment with practically everything in my life. I told her I felt stuck, and like I was drowning in a sea of things that were unfulfilling, but very safe.

Kat gave me a homework assignment. She wanted me to write something in my journal about change. Of course I embraced this writing assignment whole heartedly. So today's entry is about change. How do I feel about it, and more importantly, why does it scare me? As the thoughts on this subject begin to fill my head, I realize it may end up being a mini series!

For most human beings, it's normal to like things to be stable. Babies and children need to stay on a schedule so they know what to expect. If their routines get interrupted, they become very fussy and out of sorts. But as we get older, we learn that we must adapt to new things. Some people have an easier time than others adjusting to these changes.

My friend Madison seems to like change. She's moved to new cities two different times in her life; both times by herself. She's willing to try almost anything, and she seems to have no problem at all with changes to her daily schedule. She appears to be comfortable going with the flow.

My friend and coworker Stella is the complete opposite. I truly have never met anyone more resistant to change. Stella still has the same hairstyle, clothes, and makeup she has had since the 1970's. She does not own a cell phone or a computer. Stella has a very difficult time when new computer programs or new policies and procedures are introduced at work. Not that she can't do them or understand them; she just doesn't like that things have changed. Often she will still refer back to policies that were in place years or even decades ago.

So where do I fit in? Somewhere in between I guess. I don't like change at work, but I know sometimes it's necessary. Some work changes I'm much more resistant to than others. I don't have a lot of problems changing plans. I would never move away from home unless my entire family and all my friends were going too. I haven't changed my look a lot over the years, but I have tried to keep somewhat current with makeup, shoes, and hairstyles. I wear jeans most of the time, but transitioned well from bell bottoms to straight legs, to pleated and acid washed, to boot cut. I don't like to move, but have. I don't like it when my kids have to change schools. I've only had one real job my whole life, even though I've held different positions within the company. My first marriage lasted seven years, four of which were a nightmare, but I hung in there anyway, thinking and hoping things might get better. They didn't. I went through several hellish years in my current marriage, thinking and hoping things might get better. They did. I don't like to burn bridges with people. I am able to get rid of many old items, but hold tight to others that have significant meaning to me.

I think I'll end this entry here. I'm going to re-read it and figure out why I embrace some changes but not others. I'm going to think about Madison and Stella, and why change is so markedly different to the two of them. Stay tuned.

Just Okay

Let me preface this by saying, while my new meds are definitely helping me, they seem to be quite ineffective at treating my PMDD. I've been in an incredibly unstable mood today, and all day I've felt desperately out of sorts. In no way do I mean any disrespect for my company, and as always, will not even name the organization. This journal entry is for me to sort the plethora of feelings I've had all day today.

It's no secret, for the past three years or so, I've been discontented with my job. There was a time in my life where I couldn't imagine anything but spending the rest of my life at my company. I was happy, I was content, I felt like my thoughts and ideas were important, and I felt like I had a good chance for growth and advancement within the company. All of that went away with a corporate merger a few years back and now I feel that I am in a situation where there is zero chance for advancement, maybe even for any more pay raises. I'm not even sure my office will continue to operate when our lease is up in three years. I'm giving it a 50/50 shot. Attrition has meant that our staff will only continue to dwindle as employees leave the company, meaning we must constantly keep trying to figure out how to do more with less; all the while ensuring that our customers are "totally satisfied". "Satisfied" is unacceptable. I watch my employees grow frustrated by taking on more and more duties, some of them doing so knowing their pay will never increase.

Believe me, I know a lot of people have it a whole lot worse. I know I'm lucky to have a job. I get it. But working harder and harder only to feel things are never good enough makes it feel like the walls are slowly closing in on me. I swear to God, sometimes I feel like a deck hand on the Titanic. The ship is going down folks, and all we can do is wait for it.

I won't lie. I don't know what to do about it. I'm 47 years old, and I don't have a college degree. I make decent money and I get a lot of vacation time. Maybe I should just follow the lead of so many of my coworkers and just buck up and deal with it. After all; it is what it is. I can't afford to quit my job and I'm not sure there's much else out there for me anyway.

So in my life I feel like I'm trapped in a cycle of things that are "just okay". My job, my marriage, my self esteem. Not great, not fulfilling, but not terrible, and certainly very safe.

I'm just wondering if "just okay" is going to get it for me for the rest of my life. Is "just okay" good enough? SHOULD it be good enough? Right now, there's not alot of choices, so I guess it has to be. Maybe there are choices and I just can't see them.

Col. Harland Sanders was nearly 50 years old when he came up with his "secret recipe" for cooking his fried chicken. Maybe it's not too late for me after all.

How About A Little Sugar With That?

I just read a startling statistic. Children ages 6-11, along with female adolescents, get 20% of their daily nutritional intake from added sugars.

Think about that for a minute. One fifth of the energy that fuels their bodies is from added sugar in their diet.

Everyone knows "The Biggest Loser" is my favorite television show. I was very saddened to hear that one of the trainers, Jillian Michaels will be leaving the show after this season to raise a child. But then I read that she will begin working diligently to fight childhood obesity and the atrocious school lunches served to America's children, much in the way Jamie Oliver and our First Lady, Michelle Obama are doing. That got me pumped. Jillian Michaels as a warrior fighting this battle can only be a big plus.

Childhood obesity is an epidemic. An avoidable epidemic. Other than signing petitions and passing on information to my handful of readers in "Detach", I'm not sure what I could do to help with this problem. So until I find another way, that's what I intend to keep doing.

This Is A Test

I read something the other day that says "The fastest way to freedom is to feel your feelings". I talk about my feelings all the time. It doesn't mean you have to air all your dirty laundry, or tell every aspect of your personal life. For me, it's just a way to work through my issues. After all, I've said before, I believe life on this earth is a test. When our time here is done; how far have we come? Not how much money did we make. Not how high did we get promoted in our company. But how much did we grow as a human being? How many obstacles did we face and conquer? What things did we do to truly help someone? Not what did we appear to do. Not community service or volunteer work that we grumbled about. What did we do to help someone that really made us feel good inside? And did we do these things with good intentions, or did we want something in return? Are we superficial? Do we smile at people for which we truly harbor hate? Do we resent the sucesses of others, or find joy in their accomplishments?

I truly believe it's all a test. And to me, feeling my feelings, talking about them, and working through them are the only way I feel I can grow enough to pass it.

Derby Review 2011

Well, the Kentucky Derby was 5 days ago, and while my husband is still not completely recovered from it all, I'm happy to say--I'm doing great! This year I loaded my kids into the car and drove to Cincinnati, OH for a drama free, stress free weekend. The kids and I ate at some great local restaurants, we visited the Freedom Museum, we saw Cirque du Soleil OVO, the kids swam at the pool, and we did some sleeping. It was terrific. And the best part....not a drunk person in sight. No "once a year, fair weather friends" mysteriously appearing in my kitchen, trying to hug me and tell me how we need to get together more often, no late night rants, no laying in bed wondering what was going to happen next, no noise, no nothin'.

I think this may be a new tradition.

Quotes I Like

Mystical doesn't have to shop too hard for my birthday present. Every year I ask her for the same thing. A "Wild Quotes from Wild Women" calendar. I LOVE flipping the page every day to see the witty words that await me. Today's quote has been stuck in my head all day, so I decided to write about it. It seems to fit in with several different stories people have shared with me in the past few days.

"To cure jealousy is to see it for what it is; a dissatisfaction with self."
-Joan Didion

There's a lot of bitter people out there. People who can't seem to find delight in the successes of others. People who constantly feel they must "one up" you. Some people are what my husband calls "Oh-I-Know's". No matter what you tell them, they already knew it. There's a skit about a "One Upper" on "The Women of SNL", a show Scarlett and I could watch over and over again.

You know the type--you say your arm hurts, suddenly they are having chest pains. You say your 17 year old cat died last week, they say their cat died yesterday--at age 18. I don't think most of the "One Uppers" and "Oh-I-Knows" are even aware they do it.

Maybe Joan Didion is right. Maybe these people constantly have to "one up" because inside they are terribly unhappy. They can't find joy in anyone else's triumphs because they are so displeased with themselves. Recognition for anyone else but them is unwelcome, and will not be tolerated. At least not without retaliation.

My Big Sister

I realized awhile back that I've rarely ever mentioned my sister in "Detach". In fact, when I did a search of my blog, most times I used the term "my sister", I was referring to my sister-in-law, Kitty. The only thing I could find that was actually about my real sister were the entries about my mother's death.

But I do have a sister. I'll call her Goldie. Goldie is almost 12 years older than me, so by the time I was born, she was almost like a nanny or a second mother to me. When I was very young, and we both lived in the same house, she used to walk me up to the drug store or to the library. Goldie got married young. She was 17. I was 5. So it's really more like I grew up an only child.

Goldie had a baby, my niece, at 18. This was 1970, and the height of the Vietnam war. Goldie's husband was in Vietnam when my niece was born, so she and the baby came home to live with us for awhile, until he returned.

Once her husband returned safely from the war, Goldie and the baby moved out. I became an only child again.

But Goldie wanted desperately to maintain a relationship with me. After all, she had prayed every night that Mom & Dad would have a baby. In the summers, I would often go to Goldie's house and spend a few days, maybe even a week. She spoiled me. Since my parents were older when I was born, being with Goldie and her husband was exciting and very different for me. They had a cool car, they listened to loud rock music, they took me to the drive-in to see movies my parents would never have gone to see. I remember once going to see "Planet of the Apes". And there's no way we would have ever exited any type of store without Goldie buying something for me. Candy, a little toy, but usually a .45 record of my choice.

Goldie is the person who made me fall in love with rock-n-roll. She had quite a collection of albums, including Beatles, Monkees, and Herman's Hermits. But it was the Beatles albums that captivated me. Before leaving third grade, I knew every single word to the entire Sgt. Pepper's album. While other kids were listening to kid's music, my mind was being exposed to "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds".

Goldie and I have been through a lot together. Besides the loss of our mother, we've both carried each other through one failed marriage, and various other struggles with the men in our lives. We shared the same challenges with our parents; our Dad often being very hard to please. She gave me a niece, who has always been a special part of my life. And now she has two little ones of her own, who have brought new life to our family.

So why do I not ever write about this person who was so influential in my life? I've been sitting here pondering that. While Goldie and I talk on the phone once every week or two, we lead very different lives now. Goldie lives in the country, about an hour and a half drive from my house in the city. She has had numerous illnesses and injuries, which have disabled her. She rarely leaves the house now, except to be driven to the city to visit various doctors. Because of her illnesses and various surgeries, she's missed some Thanksgivings, and for the first time ever, she missed this past Christmas. When we talk on the phone, I hear of all her pain and suffering and it breaks my heart. I remember Goldie being active. I remember her being an entrepreneur, having two businesses of her own. I remember her being strong willed and independent. All those things are now taken away, and I miss them very, very much. I miss my sister very, very much.

But I know that my sister will always be there for me. At least as much as she is able to be. She's the first person I call when there is a crisis. She is my blood. When I think of Goldie, I try to remember those better times. Not the way things are now. I pray that she will get healthy, and be able to drive again, and one day maybe even move back to the city. But wherever she is, and whatever condition she is in, she will always be my big Sissy, and I love her very much.