work

I still have not got my stuff together for that actual job, but the volunteer work is going brilliantly.  I am glad for the people we are helping, but it is good for me to remember that this helps me as well.  The work we do can only be as good as the progress of my own healing and recovery.  It seems, maybe, that they should not be that closely connected, but they just are.

The new program of offering time for only job searching, registrations and applications is going well.  Plenty of drop-ins, but few enough that I can get used to working with a group that will always have widely ranging needs.  Truth is that even though I knew from the work I have been doing with clients, that the struggle to navigate the process was difficult for most people, mostly because of the lack of computer and on-line experience.

And, despite my expectations, the further truth is that the problem is that I waited too long to do this.  And, we need to hold a workshop at least once a month to teach and lead people through the process of searching on-line for jobs.  I have already written a tutorial that I can use, but I am struggling to find the time.  I think it will have to be in the evening one month and during the day the next session. 

What we need is volunteers, something we have been trying to obtain nearly since we began four-and-a-half years ago.  Volunteers can be found for other jobs, but this one seems to be more complicated that interests most people.  I need help!

So, it is going to be what it is for a while and we are going to do our best, or as close to that as possible. 

One of the other things I have been trying to do is find funding for scholarships for people who can benefit from having the official certification for using fork lifts of all kinds.  The program is in place in our town, sponsored  by the local business organization, but they do not offer any help with the cost.  I asked them.  I asked them for ideas, based on their broad experience, for resources to which I could apply for funding or grants.  They have no idea, so I have been searching for help on my own. 

I cannot qualify for most grants, but our library can and so that snag is solved.  But, where to find the money is so depressing a way to spend an afternoon or evening.  This afternoon I took the Internets again and found plenty of dead ends.  Most search results are for folk willing to accept my money to help me through the process.  I know how to write for grants, but please do not tell anyone because they will ask me to help them.  I know that sounds selfish, but writing for grants is very-time consuming and, frankly, exhausting when trying to match every detail in the application process. 

Then, I found a site with all kinds of articles and I thought, "Well, cool and groovy, maybe I will find some tips at this new-to-me site."

Yay!  I found a sidebar link  It looked so promising, offering an article about  how you should not pay for job help.  Yay!

When I clicked on the link, this is a screen shot of what popped up.  Good freaking grief.  Seriously?

You get to the point where you should not be able to be truly surprised by anything, and then, in full cliche mode, you get surprised.  This one kind of delights me because it is so funny.  Sad, sure, but really, really funny.

I guess that is enough searching tonight.  Still have to make lunch for tomorrow, which is going to be wonderful, sweet potato salad, celery and bell pepper strips, yogurt and a couple of apples, and a peanut butter and jam sandwich, something I always take in case one of my clients is not properly fed.  The sandwich and apples are something they can easily take away with them.  I know that it is stupid, and I cannot do it every day, but it makes me feel better when the person next to me and I are trying to ignore stomach rumblings.  I remember what that is like, oh, like it was just last year.

abundance from the other side

The past couple of weeks have been interesting and have given me the means to express another viewpoint I have on having.

I know my life is abundant because I do not have to pack all of my belongings into a big duffel bag and haul it around with me all day because if I leave anything where I live, it will be taken by other people.

I know my life is abundant because I do not have to stress over where my next meal is coming from.

 I know my life is abundant because I do not have to fear becoming ill.

I know my life is abundant because I do not have to be painfully uncomfortable during the cold, icy and windy winters here.

 I know my life is abundant because I do not have to worry about my safety when I am asleep.

I know my life is abundant because I have not destroyed all of my relationships with alcohol or other drugs.

I know my life is abundant because I have the choice of not having some things so that I can have other things that make more sense for me, like trading the convenience of having a fancy phone for having Internet access here at home.  Or not eating out and using that money to provide some services to other people who are in the same desperate circumstances in which I found myself last year.

I know my life is abundant because I have done the hard work that is required to heal and recover from the extraordinary life experiences of the past few hundred years.  I absolutely know that my life is chock full of hope and promise and the ability and willingness to take possibilities and make all things possible.

I kissed a girl and I liked it...nuh...this afternoon I kissed a cat and we both liked it.  I made a second visit to the shelter and might have found a cat that might like to live with me as much as I might like to live with him.  He is a lively 13-year-old tabby who was surrendered last week by a family who had to transition his owner into a nursing facility. 

Oh, what to do.  I miss CoolCat so much.  Ordinary, unrelated noises make me think that I am still hearing him around here.  I have muscle memory that makes me think he is still here.  I thought, always thought that it would be too difficult to not have a cat around me.  I will forever miss CoolCat and Lilliput, and it is only time before I adopt another cat, but it just does not seem the right time.

Maybe it will never the the right time and I just need to let things happen without stressing.  But, gosh, that cat today, Tiger, is in much the same place as I am.  I never should have stopped by there today.  I am not ready and now all I can do is wish him well and wish him a new, hopefully forever family.

Crap.

abundance

I am letting go of more things and people.  People is the sad part of this, but it needs to be done.  Actually, it is one person, a woman who was supportive when everything hit the fan, even lending me her sewing machine during the time I was homeless.

That sad part is not so much letting her go, although that is terrible, but that she now feels that I owe her unquestioning compliance and to present myself as being in full agreement with her in a program that we are supposed to co-manage.  I have tried, but some of the things she is proposing are not as ethical as I need them to be, and the amount of control she needs right now is just too uncomfortable.  I guess that I am not breaking our professional relationship, but maybe just taking a break from it.   I love her and I love the work, so it is my hope that I am able to return to the program.  It is also necessary that I need to have less attachment to, how can I say this, to what is right for me, and to be more flexible within the group and program dynamic.  After decades of not having choices, having the ability to make my own choices and decisions is a heady experience and I do not want to become too invested in having what I think I need, especially if it might conflict with the work I am doing with other people.  I am stuck on this.

So, anyway, I need to pay attention to the positive parts of my life.  Ordinary abundance is something that I am noticing more often.  The little things that are not all that little.

I have friends, like real friends, meaningful work, a safe and warm place to live, enough food and the means to keep everything going most of the time.

I appreciate the relative safety this place provides, but I get a little thrill when I pass by the bedroom door and see my bed and when I go to bed I do not have to lock the door and push the bed against the door for extra protection.  I no longer have to keep a cell phone tucked into my bra in case I need to call for help.  This one is not little.  It is huge and I am grateful every single day/night.

Finding gasoline at a newly reduced price and having a full tank of the stuff in the car.  I am usually able to put just a quarter tank in at a time, maybe half a tank, and this filled tank feels so rich.  I am gas rich.  In a good way.  Cool.

As things settle down, and I finally get around to unpacking my stuff (most of which was boxed up and stored by my friends and recently returned to me), I am finding that I have gone from having hardly anything to having way too much stuff.  I am grateful to my friends and to actually having all of this stuff, but most of it needs to go to people who need it more than I do.  I now have abundance to share.  Cool.

Starting this week, I will be walking to work.  I should have started doing this when the weather was nice and before the snow season began, but I am going to do it as often as it is safe.  Same thing for walking downtown to my therapy and group meetings.  Exercise by default.  Painful to begin, but eventually entering the cool zone.

As a volunteer, I am grateful to be able to do whatever they will let me, and having the director (of the place where I volunteer to help with employment and referrals to social services) give me full opportunity to add an extension of that program in any way that needs be, is just the most wonderful feeling.  I have worked hard to get this far with the work, but it could not have been done without the support of, well, just everyone in the place.  It is difficult to remember the blessings in my life; I need to be better at that, instead of allowing fear to rule what I do.

I have the financial ability to cover all of my basic needs.  I am struggling with the knowledge that raising my furnace temperature to 62F is going to raise my utility bill, but I am pretty sure that it will not make other bills difficult to pay.  Being warmer this winter is so wonderful.  One of the things I found when unpacking these new boxes is a couple of blankets and some socks.  Even during those below zero weeks to come, I will be comfortable in my little flat.  I also bought and made some things to help reduce the drafts in this old Victorian and darling building.  It has already made a difference for the outer door, still needs a few additions of wind-blocking materials, but so easy to do.  Way cool.

Whilst I still miss some foods, I am managing with the discount markets and have increased my abilities to be resourceful and inventive with ingredients.  I try to buy only what I can eat in a week or two and that is helping me to dramatically reduce food wasting.  Very cool.

Some things need more work. 

I need to be a better housekeeper.  I am organized, but messy sometimes.  
I need to recycle more.  I just do.
I need to find a church and actually show up for services.  I think I have found one, but do not attend often.
I need to be a better friend.  Spend more time with people I like.  Exert myself to find new friends.
I need to exercise more.  I live within walking distance of a facility that I could join. 
I need to spend more time with family.  Finances prevent this, so maybe I could make and sell stuff.  But, what is the problem.  I have few skills in that area.

I need to do all of these things, get better at them, sure, but there is so much more.  Cool.

crunch

Crash.  Crinkle.  Ouch.

I live next to an attorney office.  I think there are three in there, plus an elder gentleman who comes late, leaves early.  He uses a cane and walks with his head down.  I do not know the stories there, but my best guess is that he may be one of the founders of that law firm.  I often walk with my head sort of down, too, because my close-up depth perception is shot, although it is no a particularly aware way to walk around town.

His schedule of arrivals and departures is as erratic as my own, and I regularly see him emerging from his mini van or walking towards it in the late afternoons.  When I see him now I sometimes wonder what his life must be like, semi-or fully retired or just allowed to have the run of the place.  I like to think that he still handles clients and cases, that he is the wise elder, that his wisdom is a welcome and necessary, an essential part of the work they do there.

But, he often seems too fragile to be driving.  It is comforting to see him in that van, because it affords some extra protection that a smaller, more low-profile vehicle would give to him.  I remember driving a mini van and always appreciated the higher view it gave me, whilst making sure that I did not allow the size of my car to block the line of sight for those around me who might be trying to turn or enter traffic or just not get stuck trying to pull out of a parking space.  My van was one of the smaller types, I was often blocked by taller vans and SUVs, and was aware how difficult it was for me to leave a parking space.

About an hour ago there was a larger than usual clashing sound, sort of like the sanitation guys when they are so nicely taking our garbage away and have to deal with the dented, rusted and just plain sorry metal trashcans.  Not like the lovely plastic ones I have.

I looked out of the window to see a vehicle that was leaving the law office next door, trying to back up onto the curb of my front yard.  In the street was a black sedan on which, not only the bumper, but much of the front end was on the ground, and the black car had been pushed into the side of a white car that was driving in the opposite direction.  The door of the offending vehicle opened and the elder gentleman slowly emerged.  By the time he was fully out of the van, a man had come out of the law office building, where he checked on the gentleman and the people in the other cars.

The passenger in the black car was shaken up a bit, but the other drivers seemed to be fine, although you never really know about all of that, even when you are a part of an crash, I am guessing.  I was back-ended once and did not realize that I was hurt until the other driver took off.  I would not have been able to do anything, as no one got his license number, but, you know.

All the vehicles have been towed.  All the debris has been cleared from the street.  The cops are gone, as are the rescue/ambulance guys and the fire truck.  I did not watch what was happening, but a few minutes ago I took another look and the elder gentleman was still talking to the police.  I looked again later, to see the view as it always is, so he much have gone inside.

The thing is that in order for him to have caused that huge amount of damage to the other cars, he had to be roaring out of the driveway, over the sidewalk, and at a great speed, which makes me think that he accidentally pressed on the gas pedal instead of the brake.  Maybe.  I have never seen him drive fast, but I did not see the impact, so just guessing.

And, the thing goes further than you do not have to be driving on the expressway or in tight traffic downtown to a smash to happen between two, or more, cars.  You do not have to be in slow-like-molasses rush-hour traffic, surrounded by drivers as irritable as yourself.  You can have an accident anytime, even if you are the cause and have done something stupid, it is still an accident, which is why they are called accidents.  I used to have a friend who was an insurance company investigator (formerly an under-cover police officer and a clown at some point, as well) and when people would stress over having done something stupid and needed to use their insurance coverage, she would assure them that that was the purpose of insurance, to cover stupidity of one kind or another.

Driving safety is important for everyone, but most particularly old folk like me.  I am a stunningly good driver.  I never speed or dodge about in traffic.  I figure that as long as I am there, in the driver's seat, rubber to the road, that I may as well pay attention, and so I do.   I do not telephone or text, but I do eat sometimes, but not soup or spaghetti or salad.  I think that because I am paying attention, that I probably get to see more close calls than someone who is late for work or a party or driving buzzed on the way home from that party.    Along with that, it is my most sincere hope that I am not any part of close call observation or experience for any other drivers.

I am alert and aware and know that even though I have not yet had an accident, that one could really happen just about any time.  Earlier this year I took an AAA ancient older driver's course.  I did it to receive a discount (small, but welcome anyway) on my car insurance premiums.

Anyway, I am aware mostly because losing my ability to drive means that I will only rarely see my daughter and all the boys.  If I do have an accident, or some kind of close call, my plan is to stop driving.  Oh, sure, if someone slams into me, then I might reconsider...if the cost of repair are not too great or I am not too greatly shaken by the experience.  This is kind of on my mind because of the accident my daughter and her family recently had, air-bag-deployment, totally-trashed-car included.

I pushed for experimental vision surgery eight years ago, oh, has it really been nine?  Anyway, my vision was getting so much worse that my only alternatives were to stop driving or find a way to modify my visual disability.  The surgery could have taken my sight, but it worked and I can still drive.  However, should I feel that my ability to drive safely becomes compromised, I will voluntarily stop, sell my car and learn to depend on the kindness of other people.  Or, I may have to give in and move up north so that I am living closer to my family. 

But, gosh, I hope that does not happen for a long, long time.  I love my work here and I have worked so hard to craft this new life, so I guess that I could do it again.  Up north.

I have to leave shortly for a big meeting.  On the drive over I will be trying to not pay such strict attention to my driving that I neglect to do so safely.  Could happen.  But, I cannot have an accident.  I have too much to do.

sulphur pools

When I am trying to avoid doing anything useful, I come here and noodle around on the passive-aggressive notes site.  Since CoolCat's passing, it is one of the default things I do to elevate my mood.

The best part of that site is that it links all over the place and time is much linear than ordinary.  Today I found a note about a sign at an active volcano which has sulphur pools in the crater.  The signs says,

It is costly to take an injured or dead person out

Avoid unnecessary expense

I just hate it when someone has to drag someone's body out of a sulphur pool, living or otherwise.  Don't you?

It made me think of all the opportunities I have for going astray.  Sometimes I am distracted or resistant to making some change in my life, and there are plenty of times when I am just, plain, too lazy to do what needs to be done.  There I go, stumbling and lurching along, stuck in the same old patterns, making the same old mistakes, trying out new ones, not paying attention and falling into the same old sulphur pools.  It stinks more than it burns, and that is the truth, especially at this place in my journey.

A good example.  I went to a church service last Sunday and it was nice, the sermon was very nice and the people I met at the hospitality thing following the service was even more nice.  I ran into four current friends/acquaintances...pleasant surprise...and met more nice people.  My intention was to go again this morning, but I slept late, did not have enough time to shower and get dressed, and realized only later that I could have gone because of the change in Daylight Savings Time. 

Which, is ridiculous, because if I really wanted to go, the alarm would have been set and I would have showered last thing yesterday.

Sulphur pool.

The reason I did not return there is because I am just...this...close...to making some decisions about where my spiritual life is going.  I had another meeting with my adviser this past week and we had a good session.  I am taking more responsibility and am now seeing her just once a month.  I felt stuck there last week, and I had this popping moment of clarity yesterday about how I am over thinking this.  Now that I have choices, I am stuck thinking that I have to analyze and have all this angst about what I do not want.  Like being a superficial part of the community, as though I can even explain what that means. 

Sulphur pool.

So, I am going to take a risk and just let the whole church and faith thing be whatever it is going to be.  I am releasing any qualities that I want it to be for myself and for the church.  I have always simply gone along with the flow, doing whatever someone else wanted me to do or expected or wanted to control.  I think that is making it difficult for me to release my relatively stupid expectations about what I should do and expect.

Sulphur pool.

I have lots of them.  I cannot seem to avoid them entirely, but at least I can haul my sorry ass out on my own now.  I am tired of scraping the stink of failure off of my sorry hide. 

I am tired of not doing things or making decisions because the burden of doing that seems overwhelming at times.

A good example.  My daughter called this afternoon to tell me that they bought a new car.  The reason is that they were rear-ended by an inattentive driver, and the car was totaled, to the tune of more than $20,000 in estimated repairs.  The very young woman who hit them was very upset by having caused the accident, and nearly incapacitated when she walked up to my daughter's car and saw my grandson in the back seat.

The doors were all stuck shut and whilst the air bags were scary, everyone was properly buckled in, with my grandson in the middle section of the rear seat because the little one was visiting his other grandmother at the time.  But, the best part is that no one was hurt.  The second best part was that the tow truck guy let my grandson help operate the controls to lift their car onto the towing ramp.  One of the state Sheriffs who responded gave them a ride home, which was another thrill because the boys love cops more than anything. 

So far so good, but I have not spoken to her in more than a month, just before the accident.  Both of us are busy.  Me moderately, her insanely.  Between caring for two busy young boys, college classes and a husband who travels internationally half of the month, I hate to call and find her busy, especially when she has a moment to herself and is studying..  That means that when I want to call her, I hesitate, try to figure out what she might be doing, and then not call.

Sulphur pool.

No more.  I am planning on calling whenever I feel like it.  If she is busy, she will let my call pass on to her voice mail and call me when she has time.  Her plan is the same in this direction.  I am hoping that this strengthens at least of bit of the reserve that we have between us, during this whole divorce mess.  One can only hope, and this has never been a fail/pool, so it would be nice to keep it that way.

A couple of things.

Cystic acne, particularly more than fifty years of it totally sucks.  Mine is triggered by stress, so I have had it often over the eons.  I have had the latest breakout(s) for nearly two months and I am really tired of the pain and disfigurement. 

Frozen meatballs from the market are not good.  I bought some and have baked them, served them plain, with seasonings, gravies and, today, homemade tomato sauce.  Ewww.  Erp.  I am so disappointed, as I like the low-fat nature of those little spheres of meatiness, but they are a pain to make.  I do, however, have a nice, big pot of saucy, mushroomy spaghetti.  Enough to last for days and days.  Yum.

Friday's job application lab was interesting.  Only three people came, but that is because we have not sent out press releases or letters to the agencies.  It was very helpful in determining the level of experience and need of  the people who will come to this lab, and the kinds of support materials and tutorials I will need to create.  Allover, it was a satisfying experience.

I watched some cat videos this morning.  I want a cat, but seem unable to make the commitment right now.  Want, need and grieving.  Such a small issue.  Such a large heartache.  Such a tiny problem.

thanks

I am thankful about so many things that I cannot remember all of them.  That is not true, I am grateful, but I also remember every single good thing that has happened to me, all of my life fershure, but most especially this past year and a half.

I can recall each of them, in excruciating and sweet detail.  My memory is good.  Good enough to make being in relationship with me difficult.  Not impossible, but if someone remembers everything, it is sometimes uncomfortable, on dozens of levels, not the least is that it becomes impossible to lie to that person about past conversations, events and stuff like that.  Not that I hold people to the same burden of memory that I have, and the simple truth is that I have my memories/truth, the other person/people have their own memories/truth and somewhere in the middle...or at either end...the actual truth about what was said or what happened.

Everything we remember is filtered through our emotions and beliefs at the time when memories are captured.

Except, whilst my memory is not eidetic, it is precise and includes sounds, smells, the weather, what everyone there was wearing, where they were standing/sitting, and on.  Yeah, I would not be all that eager to have me as a friend, either.

It was especially difficult for my ex.  He knew that I had this creepy memory capability.  He still lied to me, about me and bullied and bashed me into total agreement with what he said and did; my compliance was part of his control over me.  Long and boring memories, frankly, moving on.

Anyway, I had an occasion for being thankful and the opportunity to express that this afternoon.  Thursday is my default head day.  It begins with my spiritual adviser, followed by my therapist and then group.  One stop shopping/expanding/shrinking/sharing.  All I have to do is remember to keep the parking meter fed.  Since the day is pretty much shot after all of that hard work, the afternoon is for laundry, where I get to relax with a book, just sitting, people-watching and chilling.  Sometimes I sit and stare, zone out, and, really, it is the laundromat, so who cares.  It is a nice couple of hours.

Just as I arrived there, I noticed a woman across the room and went to say hello to my old friend, C.  She said that she had looked up, thought she recognized me and was not sure and was not going to say 'hey'.

Not only was it nice to see and talk to her, but it is an opportunity for which I have been waiting for a whole year.

One of her sons was my ex's attorney.  As bad at that experience was, the whole terrible and abuse-riddled divorce process, the one, singular and not-horrible thing was his attorney.  Despite my limited knowledge of how difficult he might have been as a client, that man, the attorney, seemed to be one of the most honorable people I have ever known.  Or, met I guess.  No matter, he was a plain decent person and I sometimes think that if my ex had stumbled upon or searched for less decent legal representation, that we would still not be divorced and every last cent would have been stolen and I would have given up long ago.

Fortunately, I had a decent attorney as well.  Expensive, but ultimately successful in helping me move on and do so with a portion of what I should have received.  Different attorneys and I would have nothing, so yay for good lawyers.  Yay.

So, anyway, I was able to share how deeply I respect M with his mother.  Surely she already knows what a fine son he is, what an amazing...and decent and honorable...person she and her husband raised.  And, of course since she and worked in the same school all those years ago, and because my daughter was one of her favorite students, and because we still hold each other in high regard, it was the nicest kind of love fest.  Like, really nice.

Then, her husband, B, rolled up in their SUV, accompanied by their little dog, I was able to say hello to him and share just a few words about his fine son.

So, not only have I been able to be thankful for this honorable attorney, it has been one of the few not horrible memories that I have from all of that mess, I was able to nearly re-experience those feelings again with his mother.  I asked her to share my thanks and gratitude with him and to give him a hug from me.  That might not be appropriate litigant behavior, but none of us are litigating any more and no attorneys are being hired and paid, so, well, go sue me for wanting him to know how much I appreciated, still do, who he is and how he is.

He represented my ex beautifully, and I was able to appreciate this only when everything was nearing the final resolutions a few months ago.  That is just prior to finding out that he was my old friend's son, someone I had never met or knew much about in the first place.

Crazy, huh?

Yet, if he had been a bad player in this whole mess of a divorce, I would probably not give a rat's patootie about any of this, just the way I feel about my ex.  Just a thought, but it is stuff like this good son/lawyer/person issue that keeps defaulting into thinking about my ex.  Crazy.

I am also thankful that we are beginning my new program at work.  Tomorrow is the first day that I will be using the computer lab (where they conduct computer use classes) for the exclusive use by people who need to use the Internet for job hunting and related tasks.  I plan on being really strict about keeping everyone focused on employment-related stuff, but I am used to working with middle-aged toddlers who easily lose focus.  Maybe I could offer a reward of after-session treats as a bribe for staying on task and not using the time to check their social media accounts or play Mah Jongg.

Thanks for everything.
So long, and thanks for all the fish.
Thanks for the memories.
Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for the heads-up.
Thanks from the bottom of my heart.
Thank ya for bein' mah friend...
“A thankful heart is not only the greatest virtue, but the parent of all other virtues.”  Cicero

Life is so freaking good.  Who woulda thunk it.

60

I turned the furnace today.  My intention was to wait until it was consistently 52F indoors.  It was what I did last year to save money, and what I was going to do this winter season, as well.

When I looked at the thermostat a few minutes ago, it was at 55F, and I thought, 'well, great, only two more degrees before I can fire up the beast in the basement'.  Then I came to my desk to begin working and had to uncover one of the heating vents, where I had placed a box with some papers that do not have a permanent home.  I guess that if they are simply tossed into that box that their home should probably in the trash.

On the top of that orphan pile was a sheet of paper, folded in the way that I do for the handouts from the domestic violence survivor support group.  Some of those meditations I just throw away when I get home, but others resonate for me and I hang on to them.  I do not keep them in any kind of meditations that might be useful again place, and I often find those saved thoughts on my desk or in my purse or one of my bags.  Maybe on the little table in my bedroom, or in the car. 

When I come across one, I unfold the paper and read it again.  The message on this one is titled "Owning Our Power."  The pages are from a book of meditations by Melody Beattie.  One is shared each week as a starting point or the only point if no one has anything they want to share or discuss, which, frankly, never happens.  Yeah.

Anyway, this one concerns the patterns and habits we develop when in relationship to someone who is not good for us.  Relationship-wise.  It is about being held under the spell of someone, and says, halfway in:

"There may be a powerful tug-of-war between feelings of anger and our need to be loved and accepted, or between our head and our heart."

and a bit further:

"We don't have to stay under a spell."

Whilst most of the ideas and thoughts in these meditations (interesting aside is that I keep typing medications instead of meditations) are spot on for my relationship from that other life, as surely is for other people, not everyone of course, but some people, caught in the thrall of someone in their lives that they use and keep because it feeds their own pathology, their own need to be treated badly, and more importantly, their need and desire to not take personal responsibility and make the changes in their own beliefs and behaviors that they use as a barrier and excuse for moving forward and taking care of themselves.

I am not making excuses for the creepazoids who abuse others, but only that I believe that this aspect is a part of my marriage.  It was not in the beginning of our relationship, the ex and I.  I bonded with him, married him and stayed for most of those years because I loved him like crazy (important word, I am thinking, right now).  It was only later that I was sufficiently groomed and tested that what he did became the determining consideration in every single way that I responded and behaved.

This is important.

That process was so gradual as to be unnoticed, like the transit that the earth makes around the sun.  Sure, we notice the rotation that brings us dawn and day and night.  We notice how we tilt and enter winter, to be followed by spring (short that it may be) and gardening fun and round the heart and measure of seasons, the Turning of the Wheel.  However, we do not notice the more than three-hundred days it takes for our little planet to circumnavigate the sun, at precisely the distance that allow life to exist here.  Well, at least until we screw it completely up...another story, but the metaphor is just as precise for how I have lived, as the conditions that make our planet the glorious and nearly unbelievably amazing place it is.

I always had choices about how I would treat other people and how they would treat me.  I just did not believe it, or that choice was even possible.  I marvel at that whole thing.  Surely he did not meet me and decide that I was the one who could be molded into the submissive person he wanted in his life.  Surely he did not marry me with the intentions to manipulate and mistreat me.  Surely I did not enter all of that mess with the purpose of being hurt or the goal of being killed.  Surely there was love there at some point in his heart; perhaps not the same quality of crazy love that I had, but there must have been some sort of caring and loving and cherishing and good will.

I think about this more and more, wondering where that moment was when things could have gone in a better direction if I had only noticed or understood what was happening.  As hard as I think, I cannot find a single time when I could have done something different enough to change that direction.  I have been using the road not taken process and they all lead to dead ends.  I would have had to be aware and much smarter when we first began becoming closer.  I can think of many times when I should have walked away, but that is now, back then I was too stupid to notice, too immature to make better decisions, too needy for that crazy love.

So.  Here I am.  I feel regret for not making choices that would have been good for both of us.  I do not regret leaving, though, because it was the only choice.  Not the most reasonable, not the most supportive for both of us, not the most understanding or loyal or generous, and certainly not what he wanted.

It was the only choice.

Now, with this past year supporting me, I am choosing different things. 

Recently:

I have chosen to decline a job that would use my skills and energy is a great way, but does not support my desire to work directly with people. The job required creating relationships with companies and organizations that ultimately support the kind of work I prefer to do, but lack the personal interaction I want.  I have developed the beginnings of a plan to free-lance my services to several agencies.  I am in the middle of creating a new program at the library, so that agency work is temporarily on the side.

I have chosen to get rid of perfectly usable things and replace them with frugal items that more properly and personally reflect who I am and what I want.  First I donated the dishes from that old life, replacing them with the least weird choice I could find in my price range.  Then, I donated those and bought another least onerous set and they work perfectly with the mugs I already have and I am completely satisfied with them.    Things fall into alignment when I pay attention to this stuff.

I have made a choice to not be at the beck-and-call of a friend.  I have been helping her a lot recently, with a head lice problem.  She makes it very difficult to complete the process of getting rid of those little bastards, who do not exist anywhere but on our heads and do not provide benefit to anyone or anything.  Anyway, she is tired of the burden of lice and whilst she has plenty of people in her life that could be helping her as well, I am the only person she asks and am the only person with whom she feels comfortable venting and talking.   This week she made unreasonable demands on my time and I declined to change my schedule from the days and times on which we had agreed.  She was particularly incensed because I would not put off doing laundry until next week.  I go to the laundromat, she has a washer and dryer a dozen steps from her kitchen.  I am allowed to refuse to let people take advantage of me.  She called me today to hint about me coming to help her again, and I kept silent and did not offer.  I could hear her frustration and the stress in her voice, but I kept thinking that if she wants help, she needs to ask for it.  My offering all the time, other people just hinting or stating their needs, none of it is good for any of us.    Of course, I could be asking for what I want, but that is not going to happen any time soon.  I will continue to take care of my own needs.  It is what it is.

I chose to turn on the furnace.  It is a choice that is connected to feeling and acting poor, which is silly because I am relatively poor.  To turn on the heat and have it higher than 52F is a huge financial decision on my part, one that requires me to use savings intended for emergencies.  Like, if I get sick or the car breaks down, or whatever crappy thing might happen.  This heat/furnace/extra-expense thing is an exercise in trust.  I am deciding that if I use this money to be warm this winter that I will have what I need should crappy stuff happen.  My only regret with this is that I could not do this last year when CoolCat was still here.  Both of us could have been comfortable.  I am also preparing for when the utility bill comes.  Lordy.

As long as I am spending money willy-nilly, I am choosing to buy better food.  'nough said, and on to actually doing it.  Since last Thursday, I have had pumpkin ravioli, the most delicious beef soup ever (with more cooked beef cubes in the freezer for next week), roasted butternut squash, lovely bread.  Today I will be making a curried squash and sweet potato soup.  It will be a nice pot and I am hoping to have enough left for lunch tomorrow.

I may have intentions when I begin to write, have something I want to work out, but the truth is that the process takes what it needs, and (like painting) decides what it wants to say.  So it is here.  All I wanted to write about was feeling empowered to turn on the damn furnace.  What I got was an understanding of how the decisions I am making are, well, they are considered.  I am not lurching along anymore, I am making changes in my life that make sense, both right now and for the future.  I never would have believed or dreamed that I would have everything I have now, this great life.  Man.

Today signifies something else.  It is the one-year anniversary of the murder of an abused wife and two of her fellow employees by her ex-husband.  I was newly installed in this flat at that time.  At work we were all settling in to the belief that my ex would not bother me there.  There was a series of murders of women who had been in abusive relationships, including a police officer, and I can, even now, hardly express how distressing that was.  The deaths of those women and the havoc caused in their families seemed like a personal loss.  If they could be killed, with all of the precautions they took, then no one was safe.  Not women, certainly not children, not men who are abused.  Along with those incidents were schools and malls and random killings all over the country.  There have been recent ones, too, and I have to wonder if there were always so many terrible and intimate crimes or am I more attuned to them now.  I wonder if I will ever feel safe from that other life.  Maybe this insecurity about safety is one of the costs of being here now.

Did you know that today is the 216th anniversary of the first parachute jump?  Talk about courage.  Or, maybe stupidity, but I prefer to think of it as the embracing of adventure, willingness to take extraordinary chances and change the concept of what one might be capable.

During this process, the entirety of the past few years, especially this last year and a half, I have been challenging my old notions and beliefs about what life might be, of what risks I might be willing to take to have this new life. All of these things are how and why I am so invested in crafting my life, and it is a constant amazement how inter-connected and relevant so many things are.  Everything that spewed out of me today is part and parcel of the kind of forward movement I need right now.

I need to be more conscious and respectful of how this works.  Now, off to make soup, and maybe set a loaf of bread to rise.