Quote of the day

Every so often I stumble across a quote that gives me the chills. Not because it’s so profoud or prolific or prowhatever…just simply because it resonates so completely with whatever is going on in my life in that moment. Like someone was reaching out of a book or a computer and speaking directly to me. Not the universe, not the other character in the movie or on television, not the 750 million other people reading or watching or listening. Just to me.

The last time that happened was over three years ago when I heard the following quote from none other than Ms. Carrie Bradshaw herself:

“The most exciting, challenging, and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that’s just fabulous.”

I came across this quote about 6 months after I’d moved to Los Angeles to see if I could turn my long distance relationship into a normal (?? as if there is such a thing) relationship. My relationship with him was sucking but my relationship with myself was far worse. I read that quote and almost instantaneously, tears were pouring down my cheeks, hitting my cubicle with the force of a torrential downpour. I quickly wiped away my tears, leaving behind a slight flood in my keyboard, and wrote it on the first piece of paper I could find. I stuck that piece of paper to my computer monitor and I stared at it every moment of every day until it was impossible for me to think about my relationship with anyone else before I thought about myself. When my best friend looked at me 3 months ago and told me that I was a different person – a stronger, more confident, more beautiful version of my former self – I knew that it had finally sunk in.

Today, I perused the web in a bout of boredom and exhaustion. My brain’s refusal to function today is a result of my completely sleepless evening which was only made worse by the arrival of the panic attack that arrived as I tried to force the thoughts entering my brain out. It was as though they were saying, “You will NOT ignore this. You will hear it if I have to suffocate you in order to make you listen.” Today, I feel like I have a hangover, but I didn’t have any of the benefits the night before. So to say that I’m sort of walking through this day in a haze is an understatement. But somehow, when I saw this quote, I had a brief moment of clarity…like the clouds had parted, the rainbow came through, and the Harlem gospel choir was singing a perfect rendition of “Amen.”

“Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness.”

Of course this comes from none other but “A New Earth” author, Eckhart Toll. How could it be from anyone else given it’s whole “trust the universe” ridiculousness of it all. But however new agey ridiculous it may seem, it’s exactly what I needed to hear at this moment in time on this day.

Profound? No. Sort of cliche? Yes. But it’s what I need and I’m sticking with it.

The Mirror Has Two Faces

““I just noticed that it is my own private National I Hate Myself and Want to Die Day (which means the next day I will love my life and want to live forever).””

Franz Wright

I only hope that the second half of this quote is true because the first totally applies to this day. All I want to do is crawl under the covers, eat chocolate chip cookies, and cry. But I have to work and live my life so I’ll settle for a lunch of grilled cheese and french fries instead.

I think I’m in love with a narcissist. I mean, I know I’m in love with him…that’s not that part that I’m unsure about. It’s the narcissistic part that I question although if I had to place bets, I’d say that I’m right.

I know relationships are hard…I’m don’t live under a rock. I know that the words “and they lived happily ever after” only exist in the worlds of Cinderella and Snow White. And I know that there’s a reason that I love “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” – because it’s all so true. The things I love about him – his passion, his zeal, his intensity and excitement, his creativity, his brain, his ability to live in the moment – are also the things that sometimes tear me apart. I knew all this going in, so why am I even remotely surprised now?

I don’t know the answer to that. I thought that somewhere along the way, we would settle in. We would “just be”. We wouldn’t have to examine everything so much, so hard, so long. But it seems that everything in his world gets scrutinized with a microscopic eye.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s just me…if my relationship is not only hard but harder than it SHOULD be.

Our therapist FINALLY looked at him this morning and said to him, “Actually, this isn’t about her. This isn’t about anyone but you. This is your issue. YOU need to look at it in order for this to stop happening. Because nine times out of ten, YOU are creating the situation in your head. You. She’s just being. You’re turning into something else.”

The “this” is the fact that he is constantly thinks that I’m raining on his parade, trying to ruin his fun. The person that wanted to marry me thinks this. He thinks I don’t have his best interests at heart. That I don’t want him to be happy. That my actions are intended to put a damper on his party. I am baffled by this. I just don’t get it. I don’t understand why, if he truly believes this and thinks it’s true, why did he want to marry me? And then I sit there asking myself if he thought this before we got married or if it only happened after? I don’t think it was going on before. I can’t imagine that the smart, savvy woman that I do truly believe myself to be would have said yes to a life of that. But then, I can’t imagine why on earth he would change after the “honeymoon” – so to speak. It’s not that he’s a different person than he was before we got married (see above reference to the fact that I knew what I was getting into) but this is different. I don’t remember this being part of what I signed up for. Because despite all of the things that I absolutely adore, I’m not quite sure I would have signed up if this had been a clear cut part of the package.

As I write this, I feel like a horrible person. I can’t believe that I’m saying some of this out loud. But it feels better to ask these questions out in the universe than in my head.

When our therapist said that, I felt this huge sense of relief. I was so grateful that I was tempted to hug him on my way out the door. I’m not saying that I’m perfect…that I don’t have issues. But I remember when we started dating almost 5 years ago and I was bitching about something going on with him in my therapy session. My therapist looked at me and said, “Miss Jelly, don’t worry about him. Worry about you. If you work on your stuff, at a certain point he’ll have to start looking at his. But sitting in here talking about him is not going to change who he is. You can only deal with you.”

She couldn’t have been more right. Five years of therapy later, we’re in therapy together, and we’re doing a whole lot of looking at him. At least me and the therapist are. He’s still looking at me.

Ring Tones

I’m sitting at my desk at work. My cell rings and the screen lights up and says:

Mom cell

I let it go to voice mail. I’m not in the mood. Two seconds pass and my work line is ringing. It’s obvious that this too is going to be “Mom cell”. Once again, I let it go to voice mail. Twenty seconds later the message light on my phone lights up. I think about ignoring it but instead I decide to listen.

“Hi honey.” I can tell by the tone of her voice that there’s something going on. “Will you call me please, when you have a minute? I need to discuss something with you.”

The whole message is in that tone. That mom tone that you get when you might have done something to piss her off, or when she needs something, or when she has to tell you something that you might not want to hear. It’s not a tone of death or dying or tragedy – it’s not that tone. It’s just that mom saying you need to call me back tone. So I did.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Where are you?”

“I’m at work. I stepped away from my desk.” I lie. Clearly I’m not going to tell her that I didn’t really want to talk to her right now.

“Oh. Well, I have some not so great news.” Silence.

“Ok…” I say. Since she’s not giving me the news yet and there’s simply silence on the other end of the phone, I decide I should say something. So I say OK. I mean, how is one supposed to react to that? It’s a little difficult to react to the not so great news when you don’t know what the fuck it is.

“Everyone is ok. I’m ok. Dad is ok. Your sister is ok…” she begins. But before she can get any further, I cut her off.

“MOM! Just tell me what’s going on!” JESUS H. CHRIST! What the hell is wrong with you??? I’m naturally assuming that most things are right in the world at this moment in time. So what’s the point of filling me in on all the things that are fine in order to ultimately get to the thing that’s not. Is it for you? Because I don’t need fucking soothing since I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON YET!!!!

“Your cousin is getting a divorce.”

Umm. OK. This does constitute some not so great news. However, this does NOT constitute running down a list of people that are fine. This is NOT worthy of setting up a tone of doom and dread. I feel badly for my cousin. No matter how much this may be the right thing in her life and no matter that it’s what she wanted, it still must be insanely difficult. I have lots of sympathy for her. But you’d think that this was happening to MY MOTHER.

I guess when you’re a Jew, a mother, and of my mom’s generation, everything that happens is somehow about you.

Shocker

I walked in tonight and you were asleep with “In Treatment” on the television in the background. I watched for a moment as Jake and Amy ate away at each other…he tried to figure out how much they were paying per minute and she figured it out far more quickly than he had and responded, “Four dollars per minute, Einstein.” I winced. I could feel her bite, her intentional hurt – even though it’s just a tv show.

I went in the bathroom to wash my face and I replayed our session in my head. “Shocker,” I had said. Shocker. I don’t remember why I said it. I can’t, for the life of me recall what you said that prompted me to reply that way. But I do remember that I said it to hurt you. I admitted that in the room and I remember it now. I thought about it for a moment before it came out. It was calculated. I wanted you to feel as hurt as I felt from you. It was very intentional. Right? Hell no. Did it feel good? For a moment, yes. I’m fucked up for that – fine. But at least I’m honest.

The scenario you presented this morning infuriated  me. If there were a stronger word than infuriated, I would use it. I felt hot from the tips of my toes. I felt like smoke could come out of my ears. Cliched…but true. I felt like my head was going to pop off. Once you started, I couldn’t possibly hear how you felt, what you were experiencing, what you wanted. Because the simple act of presenting the situation showed me how completely out of touch you are with what I feel, what I want, what I need. You simply disregard me in these moments and that no longer leaves me feeling badly. It leaves me feeling MAD.

So perhaps I am no better than the character that left me wincing on television. I set out to hurt with a single word and I did so brilliantly. I remember your reaction of anger and hurt. But I can not, for the life of me, recall what I was responding to. That wasn’t the point though. The point was to hurt and I did. I did it with a single word. I managed what took you 20 minutes in a single word, Einstein.

I looked in the mirror tonight, as I washed the day off of my face. And I thought about us. We are a good match – you and I. A passionate, strong, intense, and smart – ever so smart – match. Except when we don’t match. When we don’t match we inflict pain on each other simply to remove some of the pain we are feeling ourselves. And no one ends up winning. We simply end up with more battle wounds.

Shocker.

Lost patience

I hate waiting. I know that I am in a time of change right now, of moving forward, of progress. But today feels like a day of waiting. Part of me is waiting for the answer to come falling from the sky. Part of me is just…waiting.

I am oddly proud of myself in this moment though. Proud because I am aware that I am not in control. I am aware that sometimes things take time and patience…two things that I’m not good at dealing with.

And truthfully, how good are you at dealing with it if you’re antsy…if you’re thinking about it constantly, if you’re planning for what if’s. Strike the proud. Yes, I’m aware of the lack of control, but I don’t like it.

I think that today I just need to go to bed. Nothing’s coming out right. I can’t express myself properly. I can’t even communicate it in writing. I don’t have the patience.

The grass is always greener

There are days and moments when I am certain that I will never be content. I look around me and I’m convinced that literally everyone in the world has it better than me. A better job. A better relationship. They have a better home. A better nose. Better eating habits. Better hobbies. Even better flaws. Their flaws are infinitely better than mine…

When I step back, it becomes increasingly clear that I am unquestionably certifiable. My brain lives inside a movie script, making everyone else’s lives into some endless romantic tale that always has a happy ending while I am left behind…living ordinary.

This is crazy. I know this. I know this because my life is exciting and interesting and full of art and love and passion. I know this because my life is good. Even if there are days that are boring. Even if there are days that are not so good. I know this because all of those other people that I’m looking at making up stories about…they’re making up stories too. They’re having their own crazy moments, their own sagas, their own wishing they could be or do or have something else.

So when will I learn? When will I know that life is full of moments of perfect content and wrought with times of utter discontent? When will I stop the what ifs and the look at hers and the why can’t I’s? When will I sit in where I am and have some semblance of faith that it all will be OK, that it is OK?

But then I become acutely aware that part of what gives me drive and desire and lights a fire under my ass IS the discontent (and mine does not just occur in winter, Mr. Steinbeck). I wonder if the fact that what I have is sometimes not enough is what makes me work for better. I start to think that perhaps it’s why I’m not settling for work when what I want is a career. I believe that, in certain situations, there is more to be had. It makes me grow and go inward and strive. And I wouldn’t want to lose that…

So I guess, as a dear friend once reminded me, the grass is simply green.

Hate is a 4 letter word

I always feel like hate is a word that should be reserved for only very extreme circumstances. But it applies in this instance. I hate it here. The walls feel like they close in on me. I don’t care about what I’m doing. And it’s not like it’s some sort of incredible philanthropic work or anything…but regardless, I should care. I don’t.

Only it’s not true that I don’t care about any of this because if i didn’t, then I wouldn’t hate it. I would be apathetic but I wouldn’t hate it. Hating it means I care. And when I realize that, I get mad at myself.

Why should I care about anything at a place that involves people that I don’t really respect or like?

And then it hits me.

I don’t care about this place or this job. I care about the effect it’s had on me – being someplace where I don’t feel valued. I care because I want to be acknowledged for my abilities and for my intellect. I want to be given the opportunity to make contributions. I want to be told that I matter – that having me here makes a difference. But if I’m being honest, I know full well that it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter because no one has been smart enough to utilize me. No one has been smart enough to allow me to spread my wings. I have asked for more, I have attempted to involve myself. I have fought to be involved so that I could do more, could give more. I went to one of the top schools in the country for Christ’s sake and still, I have to be babysat on everything that I am given to do…EVEN THOUGH I consistently do it well.

Lazy thinking people who can’t see the forest for the trees. That’s who I work for. But not for long.

Nom de plume

Sometimes you need a place to call your own. A place where you can truly exercise your thoughts and put them out into the universe. A place where nobody knows your name.

I needed a blog where I could be honest – truly honest – about my life, my relationships, my job, my thoughts, my cravings, my needs, my disappointments and my triumphs. I needed a place to be able to go back in time and forward to the future and sit in the present and know that my mom wasn’t reading.

I think people who blog with a face and a name are incredibly brave. I’m not there yet. Perhaps that makes me a coward – unable to completely own my life and emotions. But isn’t that why pen names were invented in the first place?