Voice: If you’re always looking at what’s behind you, how will you ever see where you’re going? Here’s to shrugging off the old and embracing the new without worry, fear or regret. Change is change … it’s what you make of it that matters.
Me: ”That could’ve turned out better.”
Voice: “So could everything.”
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Me: “I need something…”
Voice: “Grab it.”
Me: “I can’t…”
Voice: “Then you don’t need it.”
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Me: “They keep trying to force a situation…”
Voice: “Let it ride…”
Me: “I can’t.”
Voice: “Then they won.”
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.
Me: “Damn, what am I supposed to do now?”
Voice: “What do you want to do?”
Me: “Talk…”
Voice: “Has that been working?”
Me: “No…”
Voice: “…”
Me: “I listened, too.”
Voice: “…”
.
.
.
Me: “I just keep getting in over my head…”
Voice: “Remember how to swim?”
Me: Hmmm… This is a great plan, but how do I…
Voice: Start by not questioning. Finish by doing it.
In general, women are emo-kids in adult wrappers. At least I am, and I know alot of other women (my age, younger and older) that are the same way.
Everybody has baggage. By the time you make it into your mid-30’s, if you don’t have baggage, you must not have been doing a very good job at having a life. Many folks, men and women, by the mid-30’s have been married, had children and (in many cases) suffered through an ugly divorce or split with a significant other.
I for one have dished out my fair share (if not much, much more) of questions as to whether my significant other really loves me. I’ve tried to push him away several times, because it’s easier to let go and hurt a little than to really fall in love and get hurt ALOT in the end.
Why did I hit him with the ever present question, “Do you love me?” “Why do you love me?”????
Because I had a life, a past. And the experience wasn’t all good. Not that my life was stricken with hardship on a constant basis, but I was married to a man who had no clue about anything but drugs and video games. Yes, I chose to stay in it a lot longer than was advised. Yes, I could have packed up and left. But, I married him, and I was hellbent to stick with it or die. He was nice to me when he wanted something from me. Otherwise, he said little and did even less.
Then I grew up. I realized it wasn’t healthy and I had to get out. So, I got out. But I found out I had trust issues when I finally jumped. My significant other has NEVER done the first thing to make me think he’s going to hurt or leave me. He has never done anything but open doors for me and treated me like I am his equal.
Could I accept that? Simply put, no.
I ass-u-me (d) that there was no man out there that is genuine. There was no man out there that could really love me, for rowdy old me. There was no man out there that really would ask how my day went just because he wanted to share a few minutes together after work. ETC, ETC, ETC….. the list could go on forever.
A woman wants to be happy with a man. Companionship, intimacy… yes, please. But sometimes getting her to accept that not all men are the same is a real challenge. Even if she knows it’s true. Her past may be a horrible, scary monster that must be slayed before she can go on. It can be done if there is room to work on these things in the relationship. If not, it’s doomed, go on.
Men can carry the same baggage, but due to ego and other manly things, it may not be as apparent.
By 12:30AM Sunday morning, all the de-stressing I’d done since Friday came unraveled due to another round of idiotic things beyond my control. I was livid, and finally said, “Hey, screw this. I’m getting the Hell outta here for a while.”
I drove northeast for several hours until I couldn’t find a cellphone signal. Then I drove into the mountains in the middle of nowhere … someplace with absolutely no chance of hitting either a Digital or Analog cell signal.
As angry as I was at certain things that were going on, I figured it would take longer than it did to mellow out.
I sat.
I thought.
I relaxed.
I communed.
I slept.
Eventually, after spending twenty-four hours away from everything — work, people, computers, cellphones, cats, asshats — I woke feeling refreshed and optimistic.
It was time to depart.
It was rainy and foggy most of the weekend. Coming back over a huge mountain in the car, I was having a little trouble not skidding down the hill at times thanks to the deluges of water over the road at intervals.
About halfway down, I began to pick up speed quickly, hydroplaning downhill at a breakneck pace — no brakes, no steering, no control whatsoever. The car turned better than a one-eighty, and, terrified, I stared to back to my left only to see a fast-approaching wall of limestone at the bottom of the hard-left switchback.
Shocked, and unable to do anything to avoid impending doom, I braced myself for what would well have been a massive impact.
In that instance, every hope of peace & quiet, and the objectivity I’d gained by getting away, was dashed. Every scintilla of serenity I’d earned myself the previous day was shattered in an instant by yet another unavoidable event that was completely beyond my control.
In bracing myself, I must have inadvertently turned my wheels back to the right a bit more than I expected. Suddenly, a wheel stuck, the car one-eightied again, and I found myself going down the hill in the narrow, oncoming lane. A few flicks left and right, and I had control again!
I managed to slow my descent, veer left, then right, and narrowly avoid a second problem — going through the guardrail and plummeting hundreds of feet into the valley below.
It lasted but a few seconds, but seemed like forever. My heart was racing. At the bottom of the mountain, I pulled to the side of the road and thanked my Maker for getting me through.
Yet again, I’d come out unscathed.
The last couple of months have dashed my persective a bit.
Sometimes I forget how lucky I really am.
I’m lucky not only for getting away unscathed, but also for the fact that every time something happens, I come back stronger than before.
Some people aren’t so fortunate. But knowing that I’m a lot more than just the sum of my experiences helps tremendously.
I’d like to say that my day was the product of many an adulterated hallucinogenic street drug. You know, the kind you get from the rebellious children of hippies burnt out a long time ago.
Unfortunately a drink called the “Toddy” is responsible. Cold brewed coffee, the style that takes twelve hours as water slowly drips over the sultry grains of pulverized black gold. Then, by the grace of God alone, it is poured out of the carafe and served on ice. If you like, there could be room left for cream. If it were on draft, you’d have to slice it at the end of the pour to take it away from the tap.
It is a buzz like no other.
No side effects to report as of yet. With the exception of almost clear clairvoyance and purity of thought. A Zen-like state of premature enlightenment.
The kind of bliss that makes you want to write philosophical rhymes without reason on crumpled pieces of napkins while listening to old school trance music over the P.A. All the while just sitting in a coffee shop, where you could stare at the walls for hours and be happy. For the first time in this lifetime, I could be content sitting in an empty room with only my thoughts to entertain me.
Who knows what the night will entail?
What ever it may be, it most definately will be an interesting evening.
Let’s get one presumptuous idea outta your head right now.
Trust me?
My resume looks less like a resume, and more like the Fortune 500. I’ve been running a company, in whatever capacity, for 22 years. I can do your job. His job. Her job. And if I don’t have the capacity for certain knowledge, I can learn it fast.
I can walk into any company, tell them anything, and I can keep that job until I decide to move on. Haphazard? No … Hardcore. That’s just the way it goes.
The reason?
Attention to detail, instead of saying, “Good enough.” Asking questions, instead of seeing problems as weaknesses. Re-writing business policies, because they’re not performing a required function. Tactfully kicking a customer in the ass when they’re not delivering on “their” promises. Figuring out problems, and fixing them, instead of regurgitating answers.
I can hire … I can fire … and I always manage to keep things in line.
I can do that with any work I’m not emotionally invested in. Ownership, Relationships, just screw things up for me.
Emotionally invested = My Own Company, My Own Money, My Business.
But being that way also keeps me from banging every hot Admin Assistant (Secretary, right? WTF?) that comes along. Especially that hot, tiny Latina over at … Nevermind.
But damn well, I can do your job. And in a couple of months, I can do it better than you’re doing already.
Know why?
I work. I learn. I look beyond my own expectations. I build processes, and accomplish beyond corporate goals. In 40 hours or less.
But most of all … I accept that other people are learning, too.
Maybe that sounds arrogant … but I really don’t care. I can do it. Been doing it for a long time … And I’ve proven those points more than once everywhere I’ve ever been.
Relationships … well … There’s always Life 101.
Inspiration: I talked to a friend earlier. Burned out on work, having my life turned upside down by loving someone I probably shouldn’t. Like a lot of my close friends, he’s in his late 60’s. And a Minister.
I just said, “Look, I fucked up. I’m sorry. I feel horrible.”
He said, “Look, we all go through it. I can’t answer anything for ya.”
“That’s what I keep telling people…”
He looked at me, dead in the eyes, and said, “Yeah, that’s why we’ve always been able to hang out. You get it.”
Look, here it is, all laid out and simple.
I’ll probably miss a few subjects … But it’s pretty much the same.
Abuse: Deal with it, or don’t. Nobody else will.
Anger: Deal with it, or don’t. Nobody else will.
Hate: Deal with it, or don’t. Nobody else will.
Stress: Deal with it, or don’t. Nobody else will.
Empathy: Deal with it, or don’t. Nobody else will.
Oh, I don’t mean to sound cold … but really …
Being an empath sucks. I can put up with a lot of shit, take on other people’s stress, and pretty much ruin myself trying to help ‘em out … but most of all, I can listen. I can offer a few words here and there, but as a general rule, I don’t bother.
My difference is, from other people, is that I don’t give advice. I ask questions.
“Is that what you want?”
“Are you happy with that?”
“So that’s your decision?”
“Are you being true to yourself?”
They’re not hard questions, really.
But when you’re an empath, and you’re trying — sometimes, trying your damndest — to care, you can only do so much for a person as they’ll let you. Sometimes, they’re not honest about their problems, telling you one thing, and feeling something totally different.
Other times … it’s time to either let go, or don’t.
The end.
Thinking about that, in my way, makes me realize …
Me, I haven’t been very “faithful” to several people who are integral in my life. I’ve kept a lot of things to my self. I’ve said, “Hey, I’ll handle it,” when I very obviously needed counsel. I needed a pep talk, and never asked for one.
To those people … Those friends … Family … Mentors … and other people who rely on me …
I’ve been a shit. And I sincerely apologize.
And when I haven’t told you anything … you’re still right here?
That’s some pretty damn serious devotion.
Sometimes, I just need certain those around me to know that I’m right here. I get it, or will, and … *shrug* Sometimes, I need someone to listen to me, too.
Once you surround yourself with those people — those people that you care about, and they care about you — everything falls into place.
You can’t love without trust.
And vice versa.
It does take a leap of faith.
Some people get that … and some people don’t.
Pet me! Pet me! Stop petting me!
[ It digs its teeth into my hand ]
“NO! Stop it! Damn cat!”
Don’t yell at me!
[ It runs and hides. ]
“Bloody cat!”
[ Minutes pass. ]
Pet me! Pet me! Stop petting me!
[ It smacks at my hand, wraps all four paws around my arm, and cuts nice and deep. ]
“NO!”
Don’t yell at me!
[ It runs and hides. ]
[ I wash it out, and bandage it as best I can ... jagged little scars. ]
[ Minutes pass. ]
Pet me! Pet me!
“No. You bite. You scratch. Go away.”
Pet me! Pet me!
“No. Go away.”
[ I ignore the cat ]
Pet me! Pet me!
[ It forces itself in my lap. Everything's good. ]
[ Minutes pass. ]
[ It growls and hisses, forewarning of yet another bite or scratch. ]
“Get off me!”
[ It won't budge, and continues to growl and hiss. ]
[ It bites ... ]
“F$*%ing cat!”
[ It runs and hides. ]
[ Minutes pass. ]
Pet me! Pet me!
[ I ignore it, and walk out the door. ]
[ Its terms only. I wonder why I let it stay? ]
Seriously, I wanna take this fucking thing and shoot it.
Voice: “You know what you did?”
Me: “I quit.”
Voice: “Why?”
“I needed to.”
“Do you?”
“…”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you?”
“Fuck off.”
“No.”
