(My) Life is a Battlefield

Yesterday, my beautiful bloggy-turned-FB-turned-real-life friend, Heather, posted about her weight loss transformation. After the birth of her first daughter, she struggled to lose weight and, indeed, gained some extra. She didn't feel well, she was discouraged and frustrated, and all that made her unhappy. So she made some big changes. Today, several years and one more gorgeous daughter later, she's fit and slim - and she feels good (more important in my mind). I never thought she had a weight issue, but she did, so I'm really happy for her; she worked hard and reached her goals.

Her post prompted me to think about my own struggles with weight.

Sigh.

They seem never ending. Since high school, I've been in a perpetual I need to lose 10, 20, 30, 40, etc. pounds mindset. The only change is the amount of weight I need/want to lose. And the number creeps up (or races up, depending on what's going on in my life) with each passing year.

It's exhausting, y'all.

Like so many people, I've tried fad diets and crazy work-out plans. I've eaten my weight in cabbage soup, I've drunk those horrid SlimFast shakes, I've juiced and smoothied myself silly. And I've lost weight. Lots of it. I've also gained it. Lots more of it than I've lost. Over and over and over.

It's not healthy, y'all. I've done damage.

I know why I have a problem with food. Actually, let me rephrase that. I know why I have an addiction to food (because that's what it is). I know it's in my head and my heart (and, at times, it's physical, as some of the foods we eat [sugar and carbs] create the physical need for more).

I know I eat my feelings.

I also know what works for me with regard to weight loss. I know how to do it. I know how to do it in a healthy way. I don't even lack will power. When I'm motivated, I have enough will to power a small country.

But still, I'm fat. And worse, I'm so unhappy with being fat. And I don't want to be either.

This morning, while I was getting ready for work, I was looking in the bathroom mirror and a realization hit me. I was thinking about Heather's post and how I've battled my weight forever... and then I looked myself in the face and said, "What are you talking about? You haven't battled your weight." And then, "You haven't battled your weight."

And I haven't. I haven't battled my weight.

• I've battled feelings of inadequacy. 
• I've battled the belief that I'm not worthy of good things. 
• I've battled cancer. 
• I've battled anger - at myself and at others (but mostly at myself). 
• I've battled depression. 
• I've battled shame and embarrassment.
• I've battled self-loathing and disgust. 
• I've battled low self-esteem.
• I've battled crippling fear of both failure and success. 
• I've battled the belief that I'm lazy, that I'm a loser, that I must be stupid, that I'll never accomplish anything significant in my life. 
• I've battled the worry that because I don't love myself, I will never find real love or a partner to share Life with.

I have battled myself.

At every turn. 

Since I was about 10 years old.
See, that's when I stopped being invincible. That's when I started doubting everything about myself.

So, yes, I've battled. I've fought hard against every one of the feelings and beliefs I listed above - for more than 40 years. I've won some, I've lost most. Worst of all, the war has felt absolutely endless. 

But I have not battled my weight. I have not fought to keep it off. I've not engaged in combat with it - not in the way I've sparred with my feelings, my beliefs, my body, my own reflection.

Quite the opposite, really.

I've embraced the weight... albeit in a one-armed hug - the sort you give to family members you don't really like but have to put up with at Thanksgiving. I have welcomed it in the way you say, "Oh... hi... erm... come on in," to the wholly uninvited, unexpected, unwanted guest who shows up when you're still in your pajamas and your house is filthy.

No. I have not battled my weight.

I have battled every single part of me - of my psyche - instead.

And I'm fucking exhausted, y'all. 

I have hated myself. I've hated my reflection. I've hated the size of the clothes in my closet.

But I'm so damned tired of hating myself.

I'm tired of fighting myself.

I'm tired of feeling less-than, unworthy, angry, disgusted, afraid.

I'm tired of the roller coaster.

I'm so, so tired of being unhappy with who I am.

And I'm really tired of being fat.

I'm not exactly sure how to change the deep-seated mindset I've been warring with my whole life, but figuring out where the battles have actually occurred feels important to me.

And realizing that the weight is the by-product of all those battles and not the other way around feels really important. 

So I'm going to take those important realizations and I'm going to try to do something with them.

...

I'm going to try to turn those battlefields in my head and my heart... into gardens. 

Wish me luck. I'm gonna need it. 

Me, Too...

His name was Mark. He was a sophomore. I was a freshman. He was in my English class. I thought he was cute. He told me I was a good writer. It was the night before winter break started. I saw him in the bar I'd gone to with my friends. He invited me back to his dorm room. I went with the thumbs-up from the girls. He opened another beer for each of us.  He turned on the stereo. There was kissing. It was all good.

Until it wasn't.

I said no. I said it loudly. I said it several times. He ignored me. He said, "Come on. What did you think you were coming back here for?"

When it was over, he fell asleep. I got dressed and went home. In tears.

I didn't say a word to anyone. Not for days.

When I finally got up the courage to tell my mother what happened, she blamed me.

She blamed me.  

She blamed me.

And I blamed myself. I was drinking. I went to his room voluntarily. I kissed him. What did I think was going to happen?

It was my fault. 

I believed that. For over 30 years, I believed it. I was ashamed, embarrassed, angry with myself for putting myself in that situation. And until this morning, my mother was the only person I'd ever told. This morning I blurted it out to a friend during conversation on FB Messenger... and I realized that I could say it out loud.

Finally.

I can finally say the word I've refused to apply to myself for nearly 35 years...

I was raped. 

I never spoke to Mark again. I saw him on campus occasionally and when I'd pass him on the sidewalk, I'd look at the ground instead of him, ashamed, embarrassed, and angry with myself. On some level, somewhere deep inside, I knew he was the one I should have been angry with. I knew he was the one who was wrong. But that place was DEEP inside.

So I stopped thinking about it. I just pretended it didn't happen.

Occasionally the memory would bubble to the surface, during a conversation, a movie, a date. When I did a report on sexual assault on college campuses for work a few years ago, the memory reared up, tall and strong, and slapped me right in the face. Hard. I had to think about it, whether I wanted to or not. I realized then that the incident - the rape - has impacted, on some level, every single relationship I've ever had (including the one with my mother). It explains how I haven't ever fully trusted myself or men... how I've never been able to completely show myself to anyone, to be completely vulnerable or honest.

That was a hard realization to come to.

So I pushed it on down again.

Because that's what I do.

A couple of years ago, two very good friends countered a comment I'd made on Facebook about how a girl shouldn't "put herself in a position to be raped." They lovingly told me that no matter what position a girl puts herself in, when she says no (or is incapable of saying yes), that should be ALL it takes for a rape NOT to happen. I tried to justify my statement, born out of 30+ years of belief and blame. They persisted. And for the first time ever, I began to see it all in a different light. For the first time ever, I began to think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't my fault.

Then, a few days ago, the 'Me, too' posts started showing up on Facebook... and I started reading about what other women have endured. At first I thought, how brave they are. Then I thought, there's so many of them. Then I thought, I'm one of them.

People often comment about how open I am, in my blog and on Facebook. I always maintain that there are parts of me no one has ever seen and there are things I will likely never discuss. I believed for a long time this would be one of those things. But this morning I said it out loud and the Earth didn't open and swallow me whole. The sun is still shining, the breeze is still blowing, and I'm still right here...

... a little closer to whole than I've been for 35 years. 

Declaration!

I have decided that I should like to fall in love again.

Whew. Twelve little words = big statement – for me, anyway.

I have been, for all intents and purposes, single for 13 years. And it’s been largely OK. The first two years were by design – they were spent healing (silly me, I thought two years would be enough). After that, I dated on and off but nothing stuck. Every time I put my heart out there, it got stomped on a little bit. Or a lot. And I did some (unintentional) stomping (which was even worse). So I built walls. Tall ones. I didn’t let anyone climb them. I took myself out of “the game.” I did it intentionally… mostly. At first. Then it became habit…

… habit born of fear.

When the cancer came, it broke me in many ways; it made me feel broken. And the idea of starting a relationship with someone new and having to say, “Oh, by the way…” was not something I was in a hurry to do. For a long time I thought it might preclude me from ever being in a significant relationship.

But that was fear talking again.

And I’m finished with being afraid.

Over the years, I’ve watched so many of my friends and acquaintances – many of whom seemed to be confirmed SINGLE FOREVER - find love. I’ve seen people split from their spouses and, within a year or two, find happiness with someone else. Both of my ex’s exes have happily remarried (and they came after me).

This new phase of life, and the thought of the opportunities and possibilities ahead, has made me realize that although I manage fine on my own – and I quite like my own company – I really do want to fall in love again and be a part of a duo. I’m not looking for it to happen tomorrow, or next month, or even next year… but I want the Universe to know that I’m FINALLY open to the possibility.

Just sayin'. 

I Ain't Askeerd a Nuthin'

Yesterday I had a "conversation" on Facebook with someone I don't know, via the comments section of a friend's post. I can't even remember what the original post was about (something political). This guy (someone I came to realize is much younger than I am) said something like, "Ignorance can't survive in today's world."

Lord, how I wish that was true!

I commented (after several others), that ignorance can and does survive; it has always; it will always, forever and ever amen. His subsequent comments were sweet, really, and full of optimism and idealism. He felt that I was being a Negative Nelly. I said I'm simply a realist. I've lived in a world full of ignorance and intolerance my whole life, it was that way before I was born, and I believe it will be that way long after I die. I went on to say that I believe humans will destroy the planet long before we ever become a truly enlightened race.

And I believe that completely.

I also explained that I believe there are many, many intelligent, good-hearted people doing good work around the world. I try to be one of those people. I raised my daughter to be one of those people. My realistic view of the world doesn't mean I don't try to change my part of it, to make it a better place.

His last comment, again sweet and full of optimism, told me to be brave... he told me not to let fear win.

Be brave. Don't let fear win.

I let that sink in for a moment. I thought of all the things I've dealt with in the last 20 years. I thought about all the times I've had to will myself to be brave, in order to just get out of bed in the morning, just to do what had to be done. And you know what I realized?

I ain't askeerd a nuthin' no mo.  

I've dealt with death and depression and illness and divorce. I'm living with cancer. I've raised an amazing kid all by myself, with woefully inadequate funds. I've been out of work and underemployed. I've had relationships I thought were rock-solid, relationships I thought I couldn't live without, simply evaporate without explanation. I've felt alone and stranded and completely stuck in some dark places, both literally and figuratively.

But here I am - upright - looking forward to the next phase of my life. 

In looking at that list of difficulties, I realized that while I have certainly been afraid - so very afraid - I'm not anymore. Because I made it through, that's why. Oh, I bear the battle scars for sure, and there are still some open wounds, but they will heal. They are healing. I am healing.

And for the first time in a very long time, I can honestly say there's no fear. My heart feels open, my head feels focused, and my whole being feels ready for the big things coming my way. Good things... good things I'll let you in on over time.

And if some of the stuff heading toward me isn't so good? Well, I'll handle it... just like I've handled everything up 'til now.

Because I ain't askeerd a nuthin'. 

I'm Not Dying. Yet.

I just gave a few Facebook friends a fright. I posted this:

If you found out this afternoon that you have just a year to live:

1. Would you be happy with the life you're living?
2. If your answer is no, what would you do differently in your remaining 365 days?

Apparently, some people thought I might be dying (you know, given Myrtle and all).

Oops. And heh.

I felt bad that I scared them. So I followed up with my reason for the questions... 

I read a blog post yesterday about an interesting project taken on by Single Dad Laughing. He came to the realization that he wasn't enjoying his life as much as he should be, so he decided to live this year as if it was his last. It's his '365 Days to Live' Project.

Cool. 

He started right away, too. Obviously he still has to work and pay rent and get his kid to school on time, so he might not be able to do everything he'd do if he knew his/the world was ending, but he's working on some pretty fun stuff, like trips, and moving to a better space. Before he started, he evaluated his life in several areas. I wasn't really clear about his method, but I liked the idea, so I wrote down all of his areas and added a few of my own... 

Then I rated my life on a scale of 1-10, with 1 being Colossally Bad and 10 being Exceptionally Good. 

I was a little scared, truth be told. 

Rightly so, it turns out.

It wasn't pretty.  

My areas can be separated out into Mental Health, Physical Health, and Emotional Health (though a few naturally bleed into more than one category). Today wasn't a very good day so I tried hard to think of things in the larger view. I tried to be really honest with myself. I tried not to be overly-dramatic or whiny (though it was an overly-dramatic, whiny sort of day). I tried. I did. 

Still, when I finished, I was kind of appalled. But when I really thought about it, not really surprised.

Here are my areas and my ratings. There are a couple I feel the need to explain... 

Mental Health

Depression – 4

Anxiety – 3

Stress Level – 3

Loneliness – 5

Spirituality/Connection to Nature – 3

Self-worth – 4

This is pretty bad, I know. They're all related, certainly. I've felt the spiral toward depression for a while and I've been fighting it off. Hard. But anxiety and stress will take their toll eventually. Spirituality for me is about a connection to nature and the less tangible concepts of inner calm and clarity. I'm feeling none of those lately. And of course, when all areas of one's life are out of balance, including certain relationships (see below), self-worth (always tenuous at best) takes a nosedive.

Physical Health

Fitness Level – 3

Sleep Quality – 3

Diet – 2

Energy Level – 3

Self-Care – 3

General Physical Health – 4

Physical Environment – 5

These are all related, too... and related to the other broader categories. I know this. My physical health with regard to conditions is monitored. I have a pretty clear view of the big picture. With regard to the smaller picture (see above), some things are easily corrected... with desire and motivation (definitely not the easy part). Self-care has been a big issue for me. Always. I had a virus recently - a long, drawn-out bugger of a virus. I went to work sick and was chastised and sent home. Afterwards, during a conversation with my boss, she said, "Diane, you really have to take care of YOU." I'm not good at this. I know it. 

Emotional Health

Work Life – 7

Hobbies – 3

Family Relationships – 3

Friend Relationships – 6

Life Balance – 4

Fun Level – 3

General Contentment with Life – 3 

Work is really good overall but because of all the issues in the other areas, I doubt myself constantly, I struggle with keeping my thoughts organized, and I fight just being tired all the time. Hobbies... hmmm... what are they? Other than coaching and Facebook (which is making me a bit miserable of late), I don't seem to have any anymore. With regard to family relationships, my connections to and with my extended family are wonderful - they rate WAY up there. But my relationships with my immediate family are so poor that the rating takes a serious fall. Things with Ryan have even been strained this year, which is so upsetting, as we're heading into her last six months at home with me. With my friend relationships, again they're wonderful. I have the very, very best peeps. But I never SEE them. Even the ones close by are hard to connect with, due to life being so very busy for everyone. I want and need contact beyond Facebook and I was reminded of that during a recent trip to England. I spent two weeks with real live humans - people I adore and who love me - and it left me with a pretty clear understanding of what I've been missing. Bottom line, I'm unbalanced.

And I have little fun anymore. I'm not sure when I stopped having fun, but I did. I'm not even sure what would be fun. But I aim to find out. 

I do believe that life is good. I do. I always believe that things will get better. I believe that now. But I'm not in a good place at the moment. I'm drained, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Part of the reason for that is due to things beyond my immediate control... but I am starting to take control of the way I'm reacting to to those things. I'm starting to think about (and in some cases, doing it) putting myself first. I'm starting to make some plans for changes and for my future beyond this year. But I have a lot of work to do. Clearly. 

I'm not going to make goals for every single area. It would be overwhelming, I think. And I'm tired. Really tired. Instead, I'm going to focus on one thing from each of the three bigger categories. Since everything really is related, I expect each one thing will have a larger impact. For example, to reduce my stress levels, I'm going to get some exercise, which will improve my overall physical well-being. Improvements in my diet will likely affect my energy level. And making a real effort to connect - face-to-face - with people I love, will affect a whole bunch of areas.

Baby steps.

With regard to my Facebook post, I was so happy to see that several of my friends love their lives just as they are. Several were happy overall, but wanted to travel more or spend more time with family. I hope they do just that right now. One friend asked me what I would do if I only had 365 days left. I think I would spend it just hanging out with my people... in the sunshine... in the rain... by the sea... in a tent or by a fire. 

I would want to spend it feeling the way I felt during my trip to England in January. Loving my people and feeling loved in return. Up close and personal.

What about you? 

The Sun Shines Less Brightly Today

Early yesterday morning, we had to say good-bye to our beautiful boy. 

If you've been coming 'round here for a while, you know what he meant to me. You know how much I loved him. You know that he rescued me at a dark time in my life... and rescued me a little more every day since. I have not been able to imagine my life without him... and so I haven't even tried.

But dogs age faster than humans. I've heard it said that we're here to become good - to become better, and because dogs are already good - they're already the best - they don't need to stay as long. That was certainly true of my boy. He was, very simply, the best. He left this life with a big piece of my heart. Indeed, it feels as though I've been kicked in the chest. Breathing is hard... it's painful. I'd forgotten how much this hurts physically.

I held him in my arms as he slipped away. I kissed the soft, warm, sweet spot on his forehead - the same one I've kissed a hundred-thousand times in the nearly-13 years he graced my world. I whispered in his ear that I would miss him. And I cried.

And I continue to cry.

My sweet, sweet Sunny-boy. I loved him so. 

Goal Digger - Follow-up to February

I've been kind of dreading this post. February has been a hard month, yo. It was dark and cold, I haven't been feeling well at all, and I sank into a little bit of a depression. I debated on just skipping my goals update altogether but then I decided it was important to do it. I'm famous for walking away... for abandoning goals and plans when I perceive (or admit) failure.

Not this time.

This time I'm going to simply face the music. I met some goals. I didn't meet others.

And that's OK. 

Today starts another month. I can regroup. Adjust. Start over.

And that's OK. 

So, last month, I planned to do quite a bit:

1. Journal daily - I managed for about 10 days. Then I turned inward and didn't want to pour my heart out. 

2. Complete a new Vision Board - Nope. Still haven't done it.

3. Go on two Artist's Dates - Yes. Went on three!

4. Perform two Mindful Acts of Kindness/Connection/Giving - Yes. Did four!
5. Write three blog posts per week - Except for one week when I was feeling really low.
6. Read two of the books on my nightstand - Yes. Read three.

7. Re-start Whole 30 - Nope. Not yet. But I feel really rotten right now and I know it'll make me feel better, so March has to be it.

8. Work out four times per week - Yeah. No. 

9. Continue Declutter 365 - Yes. This is going very well. Now I need to take the stuff I've put aside to donate to the charity shop.
10. Start new savings plan (and try not to dip into it!) - Yes. I've actually done pretty well with this. I haven't saved as much as I would have liked, but I had a big car repair come up, which sucked some of it.
11. Complete resume writing video scripts (work) - No. Not finished yet. But I will be this week.
12. Reach $1000 of my Arctic Dip fundraising goal (work) - Yes. I raised over $1300, which was more than any other individual or group (and I earned a certificate for a 70 minute massage. Squee!).

13. Get half-way through a new writing project (average 1000 words per day) - No. I did great for about 10 days and that's when I hit the low point. 

 14. Purchase a new fitness tracker and begin working toward 10,000 steps per day - Nope. Just not in the budget at the moment.  

15. Complete all the Special Olympics paperwork and organizational tasks necessary to start practice on February 29 - Yes. And we had our first practice last night! It was fantastic and I'm looking forward to a great season!

I also planned our summer camping vacation (to Canada); the campsite is reserved and paid for. That was a big thing I hadn't listed, so I'm happy about it.

So, I successfully completed about half of my goals. Given how I was feeling for most of the month, I'm going to count February as a success overall.

It's my party and I'll be successful if I want to. 

Shut up.

I've been thinking about March and what I want to accomplish. I think I'm setting too many goals - specifically, too many things I need to do daily. So this month I'm going to concentrate on a just a few daily things and a bunch of one-offs. Because I've felt so lousy, I think my focus needs to be on just feeling better physically. The weather seems to be turning (though I've heard there's snow in the forecast for Friday) and I think that will help. I just need to focus. There are a couple of things I will continue (like the declutter project, the artist dates, and my savings plan), but I'm not including them in the list. If I get to the end of the month and find that I've let them slide altogether, I'll add them back. There are also a few things I'm dropping for now, like the daily journaling and the writing project. Though journaling should ideally help me to feel better, it's not doing that right now; it feels more like pressure and I don't want or need that. As for the writing project, it feels like a chore and I'm really struggling with a foggy brain and some memory issues, so I'm putting it on hold for now. I'm not abandoning it. 

So. Goals. OK, here goes... 

March Goals

1. Start Whole30 (seriously). 

2. Work out three times a week (even if it's just a walk in the park in the evening).

3. Write in my gratitude journal daily (these are relatively short lists, easier than full journal entries).

4. Read at least two books.

5. Perform two Mindful Acts of Kindness/Connection/Giving (I'm loving this one but it's not habit yet).

6. Complete the Vision Board (again, seriously).

7. Do three blog posts per week (this goal is forcing me to write here, which has been good for me).

8. Revise and send out the Junior Coach application for summer league.

9. Do passport renewals for Ryan and myself.

10. Submit my case study for my WISA certification (work). 

11. Clean the back porch.

12. Make a big charity shop run.

That should do it for now. I think I'm going to do short Sunday updates, too. That might help to keep me more accountable for the daily/weekly goals.

And onward to April 1! 

Politics, Yo

Politics, yo.

I know some people love the process. They revel in it. Want to be a part of it.

I'm not one of those people. 

I hate it. I hate pretty much everything about it. I think it's a vile system that thrives on greed, power, game-playing, and dishonesty. Mostly, I hate what politics have become for the ordinary person - this polarizing, living, breathing entity of US versus THEM.

If you're not with us, you're against us.

Have we ever, as a nation, been so divided? I don't think we have. I mean, every election year is ugly, no doubt, but right now? It's all so disgusting, so mean, so unpleasant, so... 

                                                                  Disheartening.

I've always been a politically opinionated person. I've always called myself an 'Independent', though I pretty much always vote one way. And since there are really only two ways to vote, I probably always will. Though there are similarities in the parties (I believe they are both controlled by corporate America), there are some significant differences, and several of those differences are so important to me that I will probably never jump the fence.

If I could? I'd remove myself from the process entirely. I'd ignore everything about it and go about my merry way, completely ignorant and blissful. But I can't. I feel that I have to vote, if for no other reason than to honor the women who fought so hard for my right to do so. And in order to vote, I have to be informed (as difficult as it may be to inform oneself, given the unreliability of the media and unbelievable amount of utter garbage that people spread around). But I will vote in this election as I have in every election in which I've participated - with a heavy heart... with the knowledge that there is no one who makes me feel really good about casting my vote.

No one.

There are, however, those who would make me feel much worse and I see it as my responsibility to do my little part (for whatever it's really worth) to make sure those people don't make it to their desired offices. But in the end, there isn't, nor has there ever been, anyone I feel wholeheartedly good about voting for.

Someone asked me the other day who my ideal candidate would be. Though there are a few people in national government I would like to see make a play for the presidency at some point, it's hard to say whether or not I'd want them to be elected until they actually do it and spell out their plans and platforms. I know the sort of person I'd like to see, though...

First, I want an atheist - someone who is not ruled by dogma, but by Humanism. A woman would be great. A black woman would be even better (as long as the country grows up and doesn't spew the ugly bigoted vitriol that's been hurled at our current President for the past 8 years). Yes, a black woman atheist with degrees in economics and perhaps the law or education. With kids in public school. I want a candidate whose moral compass is always pointing north, who always tries to do the right thing, regardless of who's trying to line her pockets. I want a candidate who sees all citizens as equal under the law, and who somehow inspires every lawmaker under her to do the same. A candidate who understands that we live in a global society and that peace is what we should be actively striving for, across the globe. I want a candidate who truly understands what it's like to live in the REAL America - the America that will bankrupt you if you get sick, the America where affordable housing is a joke and the homeless are treated like a disease, the America where the social care systems are designed to keep people in poverty, the America where for-profit prisons and the 'war on drugs' only creates more criminals, the America where guns are more plentiful than common sense, the America where wanting a college degree means being so far in debt upon graduation that you have to work for decades to pay off student loans, the America where being old is absolutely terrifying for a large number of seniors.

And I want a candidate who can find a way - some way - to make the parties work together.

I don't know that such a person exists. Well, that's not true. I'm certain she exists. She exists all over America. But I can't imagine her wanting to be President. And maybe that's the problem.

Anyone who actually wants the job is someone I don't want to have the job.

So, we're stuck with the ones who want to run. 

So, for now, though I can't remove myself from the process entirely, I will do so to the extent that I can. I'm as finished as I can be and still be informed enough to vote. I don't care what anyone else says or does about any of it. Few people want to discuss or learn; most people simply want their points of view to be heard... but hardly anyone's listening.

This next year is going to be torture. Thankfully, I don't have cable, so I can't see the campaign ads. I'm still in the process of limiting my social media feed and for the people I don't want to stop following, I'll just scroll quickly past the posts I don't want to see. I have to remind myself to stop reading the comments after nearly every online article, political or not, as in an election year, everything becomes political.

I'll make it through.

And then the election will be over.

And the bitching about the new President will begin.

Yeah. I'm really not happy about this.

Feeling Better Yet?

A couple of years ago, I realized that social media (Facebook, specifically) was highlighting the fact that I can be a real dick.

That's not a pleasant realization to come to.

Now, to that point, I'd never thought of myself as a dick. In fact, I'd always thought I was a pretty nice person. And for the most part, I think I was. I think I am.

But back then, even though I used Facebook primarily to connect with people I love, it could really bring out the worst in me. Weird, huh? The issue? I had a difficult time passing up an argument, especially if it was about politics. This particular little piece of my personality is one I come by honestly. My immediate family is comprised of arguers. We're gotta-have-the-last-worders. And we don't censor ourselves or work very hard to be respectful. We don't engage to understand or open our minds. We engage to prove our point(s). And we get angry.

And that's exactly what I did on Facebook.

And I could be a real dick about it.

Of course, the people I engaged with weren't being nice either. Disrespect, name-calling, insults - they were rampant in all those threads. And the last word was gold, man. You had to have the last word to win.

But the "victories" (subjective at best) were hollow.

See, I didn't like how I felt after these Facebook debates, no matter how they turned out. I wound up feeling a bit sick to my stomach, angry with myself, and low. Very low. I was stooping to a level far below where I wanted to be.... far below the place I saw myself (wanted to see myself).

So I made a conscious choice to change. I stopped engaging almost entirely. When I did, I tried very hard to be respectful. I tried never to insult. I tried to hear the other person. If I couldn't, or if they weren't hearing me, I disengaged.

Mostly.

Sometimes, I allowed myself to get sucked in. Snark is in my blood, after all.

I still allow it happen sometimes.

And I still feel bad. Actually, I probably feel worse now than I used to.

Every. Single. Time.

I'm a work in progress.

But I'm on a real quest to be a better person. I'm on a quest to be the Diane who lives in my head - Better Diane. I ask myself, often these days, what would Better Diane do? 

WWBDD?

Better Diane is nicer than I am. She's smarter. She's kind and generous and grateful and good.

(But she's not boring. Honest.)

And she most certainly doesn't argue or get snarky on Facebook with any of the many, many, many people who haven't been paying attention to their Better Selves.

I want to be just like her when I grow up.

Goal Digger - Follow-Up and Start-Over

At the beginning of the month, I did a post about setting goals. If you'd like, you can read it right here. I decided to list out my January goals here, in my blog, for all of you to see, in an attempt to hold myself a little more accountable than I have in the past. I said I'd follow-up at the end of the month and let you know how I did. My hope was that I'd meet them all - that I'd be 100% successful in every one.

Yeah. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Sigh.

But you know what? I'm not going to beat myself up because I can claim 100% success for several... and partial success for several others. That's big for me, really. A couple of things threatened to completely derail me and affected me negatively this month (I'm not making excuses. Really. I'm not. Honest. Shut up). Bottom line, if I hadn't listed my goals out here, knowing I was going to have to follow-up, and if I hadn't looked at the list on a regular basis, I don't think I would have accomplished much at all.

So I'm counting the whole shebang as a success. Of sorts. And 'of sorts' is better than not at all, baby!

Here's January's list with the outcomes...

1. Journal daily - This went swimmingly for the first 3 weeks of the month. In fact, I even got up at 5:30 every morning to do it! But I kind of fell off the wagon last week. I'll get back to it tomorrow, though. I'm counting this one as a solid 75% successful.

2. Do a new 'Vision Board' - I'm one-third of the way through with this one. I have the pictures that will go on the board, but they're not actually, you know, on the board. I think I have to count this as unsuccessful.

3. Go on two 'Artist's Dates' - I managed one, so this one gets a 50% successful.

4. Perform two 'Mindful Acts of Kindness/Connection/Giving' - I did three! And can I tell you? They made me feel good! This one rates a 100%+ successful.

5. Write three blog posts per week - I think I got four in most weeks. 100%+ successful.

6. Read three of the books on my nightstand - I read two (and one of them was assigned for work, so not exactly on my nightstand). I'm going with 50% successful.

7. Re-start Whole 30 - Nope. Didn't do it. Didn't even attempt it. Epic fail.

8. Work out four times per week - See #7. Ditto. Epic fail.

9. Re-start 'Declutter 365' - Did it and then some. Happy about it, too! 100%+ successful.

10. Do tax return as soon as W2 is available - Done. I should see my moolah within the next week or so. 100% successful.

11. Start new savings plan - I did... then I dipped into it (raising a teenager on your own is pricey, yo. There are unexpected expenses every stinkin' week). I'm counting this as a tried but failed.

12. Re-do my files and calendar (work). Successful.

13. Complete resume writing video scripts (work). A little more done but still not finished. Unsuccessful.

14. Reach $1000 of my Arctic Dip fundraising goal (work). I've raised a bit but not close to $1000. Unsuccessful.

OK, so February dawns tomorrow and I have a new list of goals. Well, actually, my list is comprised of all of last month's goals (with the exception of #10 and #12), as I'm either I'm continuing them until they become habits or I'm re-attempting the ones that were only partial successes or utter failures. I've said that the main reason I like goals as opposed to resolutions is that resolutions feel like 'all or nothing,' 'black or white,' 'succeed or fail' to me, but goals are things you work toward, and falling off the wagon (or not getting on it right away) is just part of the process.

I've added a few new goals, too.

Here they are: February Goals (* denotes partial success last month; ** denotes failure last month)

1. Journal daily *

2. Complete a new Vision Board **

3. Go on two Artist's Dates *

4. Perform two Mindful Acts of Kindness/Connection/Giving 
5. Write three blog posts per week
6. Read two of the books on my nightstand *

7. Re-start Whole 30 **

8. Work out four times per week **

9. Continue Declutter 365
10. Start new savings plan (and try not to dip into it!) **
11. Complete resume writing video scripts (work) **
12. Reach $1000 of my Arctic Dip fundraising goal (work) **

13. Get half-way through a new writing project (average 1000 words per day) - In order to finish the project within the time frame I've allotted myself, the 1000-word/day average is imperative.

14. Purchase a new fitness tracker and begin working toward 10,000 steps per day - I sit too much. Period. Sitting is bad for my health. I know this. And though I should be able to remember to simply get up and move throughout the day, without a device to remind me and counting my steps, I don't. 

15. Complete all the Special Olympics paperwork and organizational tasks necessary to start practice on February 29 - I'm going to be coaching our local area Special Olympics Swim Team, which I'm crazy-excited about! There's a lot to be done this month in order to start practice on time, so it's a big goal!

There you have it. I actually reduced the number of books I want to read from three to two, as my writing project will take up quite a bit of time. I don't want to give myself so much to do that I set myself up to fail. The goal here is to actually reach the goals!

I'll update you on my February goal digging at the end of the month!

All By Myself...

I have never lived alone.

Never.

Not in my whole life.

I went from living with my parents to roommates to boyfriend/husband to child. And in less than 17 months, that child will graduate from high school, after which she will go off to college... leaving me...

Alone.

Well, alone plus a few fuzzy critters. But completely devoid of any human sharing my abode.

This freaks me out a little bit. I think it freaks the child out more, however. She simply cannot fathom the day when she no longer lives with me. And when her friends comment that they can't wait to leave home, she says, "Yeah, but I like my mom."

Aw.

I like her, too. I really do. I love living with her. Mostly because she cleans up after me.

Heh.

Not really. Well, OK, yes, really, but for other reasons, too. She's cool. She's interesting. She's funny. She can carry on a conversation about nearly anything for hours and hours.

And she cleans up after me.

Seriously. I finish a cup of tea, get up to go to the bathroom, come back, and the cup is in the dishwasher. I made her stop tidying my room because I couldn't find things ('put away' is confusing for me). If I could get her to clean the bathroom (ours and the cats'), she'd be pretty much perfect.

I'm cool with imperfect.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't given any thought to what it will be like to live alone. I have. Part of me is pretty excited about it. Part of me is worried I'll turn into a lonely old spinster who never leaves the house and has more cats than is healthy.

Part of me is really worried about having to clean up after myself.

Seriously.

I figure I'll probably spend a fair amount of time stalking the child's Instagram and Twitter and Facebook and Pinterest (much like I do now). I'll likely binge-watch questionable television programs (but not Supernatural or Vampire Diaries [because I'll be all caught up by then, that's why]). I'm pretty sure I'll eat a lot of cereal for dinner.

But maybe, just maybe, I'll also make a list of fun, interesting, and cool things a middle-aged woman with an empty nest can do on her own... and then I'll actually do them.

Well, after I do the dishes.

Tea cups don't wash themselves, you know.

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho

These snowy days have been lazy ones and instead of doing things on my to-do list, I've spent a fair amount of time in reflection (as I seem wont to do of late). A conversation with a friend the other night prompted thought about relationships or, in my case,

Lack thereof.

Since my divorce, I've gone out on a lot of dates (though none for quite a long time... much longer than I care to think about). I've had one long-ish relationship, but it was ages ago and it left a lot to be desired. Thankfully I learned some good stuff from it. Another, much shorter relationship caused significant heartbreak. It was the second time in my life I actually fell in love (the first was when I was quite young and it was not with my ex-husband [though I did love him]). Hindsight (and several years) proved that it all worked out for the best, but it didn't change the hurt - or the resulting scars.

Since then, I've met a few more men and I've been hurt (from mildly to miserably) a few times (and I hurt someone else, which left its own brand of scars on my heart and psyche).

Relationships are hard, yo.

I realized a while ago that my modus operandi is to fall for men who are unavailable. Their reasons for being unavailable vary and I make sure to cover them all - emotional, distance, marital status (though please note that I have never, nor would I ever, involve myself in another person's marriage. But I have certainly been attracted to [and kept it to myself] a married man or two).

I worked out that it's because it poses no risk. If a person isn't available - and I know it - then I can't really expect anything. I don't have to do the work because I already know it's not going to work out (or even, you know, start).

Knowhatimean?

Unfortunately, it doesn't mean that I don't get hurt. Or that I don't feel rejected.

And rejection?

Sucks, man. It really sucks.

And I finally worked out (much later than I should have) that rejection is my big issue. Fear of rejection, really.

And it's a whopping big issue.

I've learned a bit about it over these past few years. I've learned that it's not always about me. Very often, it's about where the other person is in his life. Sometimes, however, it is about me, and hearing that, in no uncertain terms, is kind of awful. But at least there's no wondering. Because when it comes to rejection, wondering is the hardest. 

What did I do wrong?

What should I have done?

Am I not pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, sexy enough?

What is wrong with me?

Ugh. It's the worst. It makes you doubt everything you believe (everything you want to believe) about yourself. It negates all the wonderful things your friends tell you (they love you, so they have to say nice things, right?). It makes you imagine the worst about yourself.

Now, some people don't do that, I'm sure. Some people ooze self-confidence to the point that, even if it is about them, they don't care. 

His loss, baby! I'm fabulous. Just. As. I. Am.

Yeah. I'm not those people.

I wish I was. I really do. 

I'm confident in other areas of my life. I don't doubt myself when it comes to certain things. 

But not this one.

I'd like to say it goes back to my marriage. And that certainly had a bearing on it. A marriage - a good, healthy marriage - is supposed to give you feelings of safety, security, and surety of self, even when doubt creeps in. It should make you feel loved and accepted for who you are, warts and all (please note, however, that I don't have any warts). Mine did none of of that. And when it ended badly, with my husband rejecting me for someone else, all the doubts that had been festering deep inside came bubbling (in the way an erupting volcano bubbles) to the surface. 

So it did not help. That's for certain.

But the lack of self-confidence in this particular area goes way back (it's why, in part, anyway, I wound up in an unhealthy marriage to begin with). And though I don't want to go into those deep-seeded issues here, I have identified them and I'm working to heal those parts of myself damaged decades ago.

And I've finally put together that it all comes back to that whole self-love thing. 

(Does everything come back to that?)

If I love myself enough, rejection might sting a bit, but in the end, I'll believe it's his loss, baby. I'm fabulous. Just. As. I. Am. 

I don't need a relationship. Obviously. I've gone a long time without one and my life isn't lacking. It's not about feeling incomplete. But I like being part of a couple. I like sharing things - the good things and the bad things. I'd like to have someone to shoulder the burdens of Life with. I'd like to have someone to grow old with.

But in order to have a relationship like that, I have to get out there. And in order to get out there, I have to get over the fear of rejection. And in order to get over the fear of rejection, I have to build myself up. And in order to build myself up, I have to love and accept myself for who I am, right here, right now, as is. 

As is.

And I have to stop causing my own shadows.

Because I'm ready for some sunshine.

Basically, this was a very long way of saying that the self-love/acceptance work I figured out I need to do (and talked about in this post right here) is important for so very many reasons, not the least of which is making sure I'm staying open to love - and to being loved. 

So, heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to work I go... 

I'll keep you posted. You know I will. 

But It's So Comfy Here...

I recently read an article about figuring out what you want in life and then, of course, getting it. The 'getting it' part was the biggest part of the article. And it was interesting in that the author didn't offer up the usual platitudes like, you've just got to want it enough.

I hate that one.

I mean, I want a million dollars. I want it a lot. A lot. I want it enough for a boatload of people.

But I still don't have a million dollars.

Or a boyfriend.

Wait. What?

Who was talking about boyfriends? Not me!

Anyway, pffftttt on wanting it enough.

No, this author asked the reader a simple question - one that threw me a bit.

"What are you willing to suffer for?"

Suffer? What am I willing to suffer for?

My first reaction was why?! Why do I have to suffer for anything I want? It's such a rotten word, isn't it? And awful in reality. I suffered my way through chemo. I suffered with a broken arm. I suffered through grief and loss and, and, and... 

Suffering is miserable! It's awful! I don't want to suffer! 

Damn it. 

But then I thought about it a little more. I thought about what I say I want in my life. Everything - and I mean everything I want - will require work. Effort. Sacrifice. 

Suffering.

For example, if I want to be in better shape, I have to work hard. I have to exercise. I have to spend a lot of time prepping healthy meals (and I actually have to eat them, too, instead of letting all the vegetables liquify in the crisper [which is really a misnomer ((when referring to my fridge, anyway)), as liquid is pretty much the opposite of crisp. Am I right?]). 

Anyhoo, will all this getting-in-shape stuff actually be painful? Not really (except when the trainer at the gym is feeling especially sadistic). But it takes a lot of effort (versus the little effort it takes to stuff my face full of Reese's Cups). It takes a lot of work (whereas, the McDonald's drive-thru takes none). It takes a lot of time (time I could spend sacked out on the couch watching episodes of Vampire Diaries) (Shut up. I take enough flack from my kid for watching it. Two words for you - Ian Somerhalder. That is all). 

Also, if I want to actually write something worthy of publication (like I say I do), I have to actually, you know, write, even when I don't feel like writing. Even when I feel like I have nothing to say. Even when I feel like everything I have to say is dull and stupid and makes no sense. And I have to cut back on Vampire Diaries (sigh) and spend less time on Facebook.

I have to suffer.

And if I actually want to find, develop, and maintain a relationship, with, you know, a guy (who is not my dog), then I have to get out there, meet people, expend some effort, risk (and most likely deal with) rejection. 

I have to suffer.

The suffering the author referred to isn't necessarily the sort that chemo or a broken bone brings on. It's the sort that requires us to step out of our comfortable lives and habits and into something unfamiliar, something difficult. It's about being uncomfortable. 

And that's hard.

So, I asked myself, "Self? What are you willing to suffer for?"

And I got very quiet.

And you know that doesn't happen very often.

My failure to respond quickly bothered me. 

A lot. 

It's still bothering me. 

Sure, I go through spurts of 'suffering.' And when whatever thing I'm suffering for is new and cool, the discomfort isn't so bad. I breeze through it. But a few weeks or months in? When you'd think I'd have formed new habits? When you'd think it'd be getting easier? That's when the real suffering - the real discomfort - starts. And I get tired and resentful and it all gets difficult.

And I give up. I retreat back to my comfort zone.

Nearly every time.

I don't have staying power. 

(I blame it on my parents, for letting me quit things when I was a kid. I wasn't willing to suffer then, either. It's why I never let my kid quit anything.)

So, I'm asking myself again, right now, "Self? What are you willing to suffer for? Like, long-term, don't-give-up, work-all-the-way-through-the-discomfort suffering?" 

...

Self?

Hello?

Yeah. The cat has, apparently, got my tongue.

I'll let you know when he gives it back... 

So, what are you willing to suffer for?