I’m still here… a bit preoccupied lately with the whole work thing…I’m now a goldfish in a bowl… there are camera’s everywhere, which wouldn’t bother me, except that my boss has already called me and said “you know there are people knocking at the front door” because he was ‘watching’… but I was already walking from the back office to the front door when he called… needless to say I was annoyed and ticked off… it’s a power thing more than anything, and this particular boss likes to control people by intimidation… he’s actually read up on how to do it successfully… I’m not going to fall into his games.

I’ve been working for this same group of people in this same company for over 8 years… in February it will be 9, and though I’ve done nothing wrong… I’ve worked 24 hours a day, sometimes 7 days a week, since I started… well, a lot of the time it was 7 days a week.  We have the bosses daughter answering phones for 2 days now, and we’ve had several people working for us in the past for that same 2 days, but either they refused to stay and (these are their words) “take that abuse for that little money” or they’ve been taken away by the Feds for dealing drugs or fired for dealing drugs from the office.  I’m the only one who’s stuck it out.

Well, I don’t want this to become some kind of a pity party… to make a long story short, I’m feeling more unappreciated lately than I have the whole time I’ve worked here, and that’s saying a lot.  I’ve never been truly appreciated… well, I can’t say that… there was a small window of about a year when I was appreciated.  That was because I was living at the office… literally… while my house was being built.  

This caused business to grow, and the owners were reaping nice large chunks of money each week because the office was manned 24/7… which it should be all the time, but they don’t want to pay anyone to do that.   They praised me for bringing in the money, I didn’t have to ask permission to write any bond under $10K, and they were tossing me extra bonuses here and there… my Christmas bonus was actually around $500.00 I think.  It's gone down every year since then, as has my income... I think my Christmas bonus was $200.00 last year.  Who in their right mind sticks with a job where their income DECREASES each year instead of increasing?  Just me, that's who.

They don’t want to pay an hourly wage to anyone, and no one who stays any length of time actually hangs on because they’re not getting paid enough in “commission” or “bonus” to make the time invested worth it.  I’m not living here anymore… it was never supposed to be a requirement for me to spend any time in the office other than the time it took me to write bonds and do whatever office work I needed to do.  I get a lot of flack now though, and now I’m being “watched” like I’m some kind of criminal, and it’s very frustrating to have to call, even in the middle of the night, to ask one of my bosses permission to write a bond… ANY bond, of any size. 

They say the change is to “cover my butt” and so I don’t have to be responsible for anything… no matter what happens, but it’s a control thing.  I stopped being in their complete control… living here and dependant on their “kindness” in letting me live here (serfdom), and I got a life… a husband… someone I need to pay some attention to and spend some time with… other than just devoting my life to this job.  I don’t think they like that much.

Oh well… it’s a job.  I get a regular paycheck, and though I have to practically fight for it now, I can take off when I want to, and I’m not “required” (yeah, right!) to spend any specific amount of time in the office.  (If that were the case they wouldn’t always be asking me if I’ve “spent any time in the office yesterday or today?”  Why should it matter?  The questions should be “How is business?”  “Had many phone calls lately?”  “Is everything caught up at the office?”… things like that… if they really cared to know.

I still have to tell you all about the rest of my trip to Seattle…it was WONDERFUL!  I miss them so much… all the time!

I’m so thrilled to have been able to go… I still can’t believe how amazing my brother and s-i-l are for getting me the ticket and arranging the whole thing in the first place.

I think the only “bummer” of it all is that now I’m even lonelier for my family.  I’d been spending so much time alone before, that now I’m back and spending time alone again, it’s highlighted… the loneliness is intensified. 

When B is at work, which is all the time, except when we’re sleeping, and even then sometimes he’s home around 1 am, and many times I have to go to work in the middle of the night… so I’m still alone.  When B is home he’s upstairs or downstairs watching Cops, or sports or Dog the Bounty Hunter, and I’m in the opposite place watching a movie, or some learning program… alone. 

I get depressed watching all the reality crap on tv… I LIVE reality… why would I want to watch it?  I don’t like violence, so why would I watch it on television?  I don’t agree with the desensitizing of people to “ugly” things in life by the constant exposure to it on tv… why would I allow that to happen to me?

Lack of morals… lack of understanding of what is actually real, and what is make-believe… the inability to distinguish the black and white of what is right and wrong… the dehumanization of people… the objectifying of women, and of men… all of these things are learned by watching 90% (guestimation) of what is on tv… I avoid that stuff.  I watch old movies and documentaries and learning television… I love romance and family style movies… comedies and silly stuff that are just out to make us laugh… I like ‘UP BEAT’ things… not horrors or demonic or depressing things.  B likes all the “reality” and boxing and depressing stuff… so even when we’re home together… I’m alone.

I feel like ’m always alone.  I work in my office all alone… except that now I’m being watched, and once in a while, for 20 minutes at a time, I have clients there.  I’m home all alone, except for the hour or two that B is there when I am, but we’re in different places in the house doing or watching different things.  I go shopping alone.  I go pay bills (whenever B is not taking care of it)… alone.  I miss my family.  A lot.  I know I’m supposed to be comfortable with my own company, but really… how depressing is that?  Getting comfortable being alone with myself.  Whooppee!!!   I like people.  I always have.

Well, I didn’t want this to become a pity party, but it looks like I’ve tried to turn it into one after all.  Sorry.  I hate to be a bummer.  Seriously though, for all of you out there who are tired of being “crowded”… tired of your family always being around or bothering you or telling you what to do… sit still in a quiet, empty room for a while, and try to imagine that’s all there is. 

Imagine the rest of your loved ones NOT being around… the only contact with them is by phone or computer and you don’t have the money or ability to visit them more than once a year, if you’re lucky, and then for a maximum of 10 days.  Because of your choice in mate, none of your family will visit you… even in the past when they didn’t have concrete “reasons” to stay away, they did anyway. 

Slowly the intimacy is lost.  Little by little their lives become too busy to be able to take the time out to spend with you on the phone… they make the effort, but a few minutes here and there… it’s like a drop of water to a person walking the desert.  You’re excluded from the daily happenings… you don’t even hear about the big things that happen except in hurried conversations to “catch you up”… all the details go missing that way and you only get sketchy information.

Little by little you get quieter.  There’s no one to share the small stories of daily life with.  Many times when you try to call, the other person is too busy to talk to you now… they’ll call you “later”… but later rarely comes, and when it does it’s all about what they called to share with you and “oh, what was it you called about earlier?”  No one means to shut you out or make you feel like they have to purposely “make” time for you… their lives are time consuming and they have other people in those lives, right there in front of them, demanding their time and attention.  You’re far away… not so urgent.

The only person or persons actually in your life are not ones who “share” and they make you feel like you’re talking too much when you do.  You make the effort to draw them out and you are left feeling like you’re intruding and an annoyance.  When you point out how you’re feeling, that person or persons tell you you’re silly and imagining things.  Slowly, little by little, you just stop trying.  You are silenced.  You walk around talking to yourself in your head and reasoning things out inside, and dreaming.

Goodness!  I’m in a real mood tonight, huh?  Well, I’ll try to shake this downer feeling I have and get back to the good stuff tomorrow.  I’ll try to post the amazing feelings of love and support and just plain wonderfulness I experienced while in Seattle last month, ok?

Seriously, appreciate those you have in your life.  Cherish the familiar things of each day spent together... the looks, the towel left on the floor, the dishes in the sink (or a clean sink), the way someone folds your clothes for you and leaves them on the bed for you to put away, the times your spouse fills up the gas tank for you to save you time, the times your child comes running up to you dripping water all over the place to share the latest bathtub adventure with you, the ringing of the doorbell with a loved one on the other side waiting to give you a hug, the bills someone forgot to pay because they knew you would do it, the loaf of bread you remembered, or forgot, to bring home, and the response you get from whoever is at home waiting for you... good or bad... to whatever you did or didn't do in your life today.  Don't take for granted being able to see the face of a loved one, right in front of you, waiting to share something with you, and you can see it on their face before they start... joy, fear, happiness, sadness, expectation or dissapointment... you can see it on their face... right in front of you.

That's the stuff I close my eyes and see, in my memories, whenever I'm so lonely I can hardly stand it.  That's the stuff you take for granted when you have it every day, but really miss when it's gone.  That’s the good stuff.  It's what I cherish and hang on to... it's what keeps me going.

 

First, diet update... I’ve now completed 4 days of "the diet"... ugh! Wonder why I’m see sawing every other day so far... first day was fine, even exciting... second day was frustrating and annoying... third day was just dandy... no problems and I was happy, though a little tired... fourth day... good heavens! What a pain in the ... well, in everything.

I woke a little sad... must have been having bad dreams or something, but I figured I’d snap out of it. I got on line and had lovely comments and cheered up. I visited a couple of blogs and got even happier... so many interesting and wonderful people out there! This blogging world has been such a blessing for me... I feel less alone in the world being able to keep up with others out there having "a life"... just like me. Daily grinds, happiness and sadness... working and living and dealing with all the same issues... I feel in touch with humanity.

Not just any humanity either... it seems the people who share their stories here are somehow more human... what I call "real people". No pretenses, no games or trying to outdo one another... just real people living real lives in the real world. Why aren’t most people like that? Or rather, why don’t they just let themselves be who they are rather than always trying to present someone or something they’re not?

Well, the day progressed and I was feeling ok (back to the matter at hand). I had breakfast and lounged around the house... B was gone early for work, as usual lately. I was feeling a bit alone, as I’ve been feeling a lot here recently, but I immersed myself in doing a few piddly things in the house and watching nonsense on tv. Then I had my lunch, which was wonderful... I think I look forward to lunch all the rest of the day... waiting to have it again the next day.

I spoke to B on the phone briefly and learned his day was not just a regular day, but that he would only be home long enough to change, around 4 pm or so, and then head out again, to return around 11 pm. Great. More alone time. Just what I long for... NOT.

So, I did the dishes, fed the animals, took a shower and primped a little... girly stuff... you know, eyebrows and lotions and fingernails, etc. I suppose I don’t do that often enough, but I’m just not one of those overly primpy girls... I’m mostly just me... natural.

B came home then, and I was in the closet choosing what to wear... only half dressed. I looked up to see him as he came in the room, and he looked me over briefly... no interest in my half dressed state... and a look of "what have you done all day while I was working... looks like nothing to me" came over his face before he shut it down and asked how I was as he walked away from me.

I know I can’t expect someone else to react the way I would... to any situation, but... well, I think that when someone comes home to another someone they should give them a hug or kiss... a smile and gee it’s nice to see you would be nice... something to show they’re happy to be in the other person’s presence.

If I come home from somewhere and B is already home, I make it a point to go over to him and hug him, kiss him, tell him I’ve missed him, and then sit down... for a moment at least, and inquire as to how his day went, what he did, does he feel ok... what are his plans for the evening... I show interest. Sometimes I’m really tired and I’d prefer to just nod and go upstairs and collapse into the bed, but I don’t do that for a couple of reasons. First I think it would be rude. Second I think it might hurt his feelings and I’d never want to do that intentionally. Third I think it would be selfish on my part and I don’t want to be that way. Lastly, what if he needed me? Not likely, but what if he did?

So much of "ME" is wrapped up in who is in my life. I’ve always been that way. I know I should be more comfortable with just being... just being me and doing what interests me and going where I want to go when I want to go there. My thing is that I can’t do that if the person I’m with treats me like a stranger half the time. My mind goes round and round in circles and I wonder what it is that I’m doing, or not doing, to make this person so distant. I know that’s completely co-dependent, and I’m working on it, but it still hurts.

I’ve always known that B was mostly a "loner". I don’t know why it should bother me so much, but it does. He’s a loner, and the result is that I’m always lonely. I enjoy sharing with my mate... I’m a talker, and there’s no one to talk to but my animals anymore... and though that can be strangely satisfying and comforting at times, it sucks that they can’t talk back. I love interaction... the give and take of a conversation... words and how they’re used in communication... I like the sound of speech.  I like going places with someone so that we can share it... laugh and enjoy the time together.

I listen to music or have the tv on all the time... more for noise than anything. I think I would probably go stark raving mad if I were put into a room with no sound but my own... where I saw no one or heard anyone or had any interaction... I’d go insane. That probably makes me sound very needy... or at best incredibly lacking in self-confidence. Well, perhaps I am needy, but I certainly do give a lot in return... goodness! A person gives me one tiny grain of love and interest and I can run with that for ages! I’m not demanding constant "entertainment" or dependence from anyone, but I most definitely do need some encouragement to keep going... some reason to believe it’s all worth it.

I showed B that I'm wanting him.  I grabbed him close to me and started petting him... looked up into his eyes and saw... not passion.  There was amusement, as if I'm a naughty girl or something... someone he needs to patronize, treat kindly and let down gently.  There was no interest.  There was no desire.  He disentangled me from him gently, but firmly, and walked away... to go upstairs.  I just sat there, staring at the tv but not hearing it, or even seeing what was on.  I sensed him looking at me but I couldn't do or say anything.  This is getting old.  He asked me how long I was going to stay downstairs and I said it seemed to me he'd rather be alone.  He said he did, but only when he wasn't feeling well earlier.  I didn't respond.  He went upstairs and went to bed.

I know that the physical part of a relationship is just part of it... that I can't hang the whole thing on that part of it... but for goodness sake!  I'm 40... I'm not dead.  I'm overweight, but that's never been a hindrance all my life, and he says his lack of desire has nothing to do with that... I never thought it did... in the beginning.  Now... I don't know.  I don't understand how someone can claim to love me more than anything... more than they've ever loved anyone else in their life... how he can make so many changes so we can be together... so he won't lose me... yet, not show desire for me.  Neither of us is old enough to just want a companion to grow old with... we're young still... I'M young still.  Sigh.

I don't know what to do.  I've never had this problem before... not in either of my two other marriages, or any of my relationships... ever.  I've always been... desired... so I felt beautiful and wanted and sexy.  I don't know how to feel now.  I'm just confused, and I'm getting more and more angry and resentful.  I haven't changed... I don't know how to deal with this. 

Well, I know I’m ranting... sadly enough, I’m doing it here in happy blog land where no one needs to hear the self-pitying ranting and raving of anyone. Thanks for listening... or reading. I will attempt to discard this cloak of uckiness and be a happier and more productive person tomorrow. Once again I hear Scarlet O’Hara saying "I’ll think about it tomorrow... for tomorrow is another day".

While speaking to my mom the other night, I was going on and on explaining my current dilemma's... the "big move" coming up and how daunting that seems to me... my personal exploration of "me" and my marriage, including all past relationships that have ended in disaster and the why's and where fore’s of all that, how lost I feel losing my home of 10 years, worries about Precious getting older and not feeling well, my blood sugars...lots of stuff in round and round again form, mom of course being understanding and comforting and soothing, as she often is. 

Then mom made a very interesting comment.  It was to the effect of (because I can't remember the EXACT words) how a person is BRAVE when they live life as who THEY are, no matter what anyone else thinks or says about it.  That it is right and BRAVE to do as we each believe, to staunchly defend our own individual ways of thinking and feeling and forge on through life... yes, taking those we love into consideration, but not changing ourselves for anyone else.

Then, earlier today, I was reading one of David’s blogs (he’s an amazing writer, by the way, and if you haven’t visited his site, you should… it’s well worth it.)  http://pastdue.spaces.live.com/ where he was reminiscing about his childhood swimming holes and the memories attached to it.  He mentioned that he and his siblings often “…rescued another, far more often, in fact, than Mom ever knew…” from the very real danger of drowning.  This led me to a train of thought… how over the years most of us change our “Bravery Meter”.

I can remember leading my sister on adventures… to think of them now I realize how dangerous they were, but at the time, I was fearless… nothing could harm me because I was smart and I knew my way around.  Some of the first that I remember were when I was, what… 5 years old?  That would make my sister Beck either 3 ½ or just turning 4… yeah, it was in the summer/fall, so she had to be 4… and how little mom knew of those adventures... and a good thing, too.  I'd have gotten in a LOT of trouble.

We lived in Staten Island, New York when we were that young, and there were lots of times when we were on our own.  I don’t remember many details about those times… a few strong memories here and there… some kind of scary, some happy, some a bit confusing.   I'm not sure exactly where mom was, but she was probably working… she usually was, and somehow, we ended up being able to leave the apartment (we lived above the Paramount Theatre) undetected, and for extended periods of time.

One strong memory is of my sister and I wandering around down by the old train grave yard.  There were lots of trains lined up down there… we had to walk a fair distance from where we lived, cross several busy streets, and then squeeze through a chain link fence that surrounded it.

Once we squished past the fence, we were in a huge (so it seemed to us at the time, and I don't know if it was or not because I've never been back as an adult... I don't even know if they still exist) open, concreted space... criss-crossed everywhere it seemed, with train tracks cut into the concrete.  Long orangey-brown rusted metal tracks set inside the gray, stained, cracking and crumbling concrete platforms… just barely peeking up above it. 

There was train car hooked to train car… seeming to go on forever on one dead track… several cars placed here and there on another rusted track… an old engine sitting cold, empty and lifeless on another.  All of the cars with doors open and countless windows... darkness staring blank and empty out of them, most broken and surrounded by shattered glass all over the concrete platform and the floors of the cars.  The rusty metal sides, in some places almost eaten away... flimsy and thin... covered in graffiti, colors muted and old, words sun bleached and barely readable.  I don’t know how long those trains had sat there, but looking back it had to have been quite a while for them to be in such a disintegrated state.

We would drag ourselves up onto the platforms… no fear of what might be inside, or of the rusty jagged edges of oxidizing thin spots or holes in the metal floors, nor of the shattered glass everywhere.  I remember the glass underfoot… there was something satisfying about walking on it and crunching it.  There was the metal-flexing-underfoot ka-boom and echo that we would hear once in a while when we found a spot in the floors that had been tweaked somehow.  Some of the doors between the cars still worked and I would grab the handle, twisting it up hard with both hands and slamming my weight against it… then there would be a screeching-creaking-sliding loud sound as the door slid-slammed open to one side, allowing me and Beck to stand between the cars.  There would be a cool breeze blowing between the cars and our hair would swish up and off our faces... I would close my eyes and almost believe we were traveling somewhere... almost feel the train rocking as the wind blew through my hair.

My poor little sister was an unwilling accomplice on these adventures.  She would have been much happier if we had stayed at home, as we’d been directed.  I was not, and as I was the oldest, and I would not leave her alone, nor would I stay home, she was forced to come with me.  Beck would constantly be cautioning me… “don’t do that” or “we need to go home now” or “I don’t like this” (she was famous for that last one… so much so that to this day our dad teases her about it).  She was conscious of her clothes getting dirty…I could care less.  She was worried someone might see us or get mad at us for being there… to me that was part of the excitement, part of the adventure.

I thought, later on in our childhood lives, that my dragging her to the train grave yard might have instilled some real terrors in her (which I felt bad about).  We would ride the subways, me, Beck and dad, on our way to one place or another… from the time Beck was around 6 and up, and I was 7 and up, and to me it was an adventure… to Beck it was a horror.  Whenever the lights would flicker on and off (as they often do in the subways of New York), or when the train would screech it’s brakes and it would create bright sparks outside the train windows, lighting up the dark tunnels, poor Beck would cling to Dad’s arm and with a voice laden with fear she would say “Daaaad… I don’t liiiiike thiiiissss!”… sometimes even bursting into tears.

I think back on those times, and I wish I were still that fearless… still that brave.  Take life as it comes without worrying so much about what might happen.  I think as we get older, because we’ve had the falls and the scrapes and the problems that come with everyday life, we become more fearful… but we call it “careful” and attribute it to having gained “wisdom” over the years.  We're making sure we don't repeat past mistakes.

It’s only in the last… oh… I’d say 6 years or so that I’ve gotten like this… you know, more “careful”.   Before that I was ready for any change… bravely ready to take on anyone or anything.  I was spontaneous and would take off and go on a trip at the mere suggestion of it… who cared if there was only enough money for gas to get us there and back?  We’d take food with us from home and just do the free stuff when we got there… there’s always free stuff to do no matter where you go… if you’re willing to look and stop at visitor’s centers.  I was not being attentive to work?  Who cared… it would still be there when I got back… same old problems to deal with.

When my ex and I moved to Georgia in 1996 from Las Vegas, NV we spent 17 days on the road between there and here, and we did what we wanted and visited lots of places, and we didn’t care that we had barely enough money to just GET to Georgia.  We arrived in Georgia with $200.00 and no where to live and no one to turn to for help.  We didn’t have jobs, we knew no one, and we’d never been here before.  We were happy though… carefree and adventurous…not afraid of anything... confident in ourselves and our abilities...  BRAVE.

I see my sister raising her three boys, and I hear of all the difficulties (and of course, the joys)… I think to myself, how BRAVE my sister is to tackle such an impossible task!  Yes, she has her husband to support her, and he works hard and provides well for them, and they have a lovely home.  The kids have the advantage of having a stay-at-home mom who is very involved in their lives and in their schools, and who continues to educate herself so as to be on top of it all.  Yet, if it were me, I'd always be worried about who they would meet... what a stranger could say or do to them... how would they stay safe once out of my sight?  Beck worries about all of that I'm sure, but she is brave enough to let them go out into the world (school, sports, community events, etc) and learn for themselves.

Parents take on so much when raising children in this age of corruption, crime, low morals, improper movies and language all around them, drugs and alcohol and peer pressure.  I’m sure they want to lock their children away from it all, but they have to be brave and allow them to learn and grow, somehow, despite the fear, the knowledge of what’s “out there”.  I can’t help but admire that special brand of bravery.  I don’t have children of my own, but I wonder… if I did… would I be so brave?

I’m going to work on re-adopting my brave attitude about life.  The times when I leapt ahead, made decisions based on “today’s” facts and circumstances, without considering where it “might” lead me… those were the times when I forged ahead in life… when I made leaps and bounds…found better jobs…better homes…new things to do or new places to see.  I was happy.  Perhaps, as others would say to me during those times, I was not being what was considered “reasonable” or “responsible”, but it worked for me, and I was HAPPY.

I’m not going to think about what I’ve lost… or the mistakes I’ve made (other than to remember not to make those same mistakes).  Going back to the “no matter what happens... NO regrets” attitude is what I need to do… after all, what good does it do to regret?  No one can change what’s already happened.  All we can do is learn from what we’ve done and where we’ve been, and take that knowledge with us into the next adventure.  I'm not going to fear the possible difficulties, or try to sidestep them... it takes too much energy trying to think of all the "maybes" and "what if's".  I’m headed for adventure, and I’m going to be BRAVE, and I’m going to have FUN.