A Father's Wisdom

Mountain Dew Ultraviolet is gross. Fact. Not the real point here though. I love my Dad--though I don't get much time to spend with him. He is very different now than how he was growing up--though I didn't get much of a chance to know him then either. It was a bad combination of lifestyles, I guess you could say. The upshot of all of it is that I am just now really getting to know my pops. Making it that much harder is that we live 2000 miles away...it makes me sad. Very sad. When Ross (my husband) and I were visiting recently, my dad and I were talking about grad school and graduation and everything else in life. Correction. I was complaining about school and lamenting it starting again...blah blah blah. Anyway, in his wise wisdom he opened my eyes to something--something that, if I can take it to heart and live my vague understanding of it, might make the next 9 months (finishing school, not baking a baby) a little easier. "Boo, its always something else. There will always be something else. You will finish one thing and there will always be another. It isn't about the 'what' of what your are doing, but rather, the 'who'". Huh? Yeah--its not the easiest to explain in a blog--nor is is quite as easy to digest without a side of Dale's Pale Ale--but the theory behind it is that you will continue to feel as you do, no matter the task, as long as you stay the same. Again--clear as mud. Maybe if I explain it in real-life terms....
I am counting the days down to May 15th. It is my graduation day. Mentally, I feel like everything will be better if I can just get through the next 9 months--that suddenly life will be fixed. I will be happier--Ross and I will be happier. (Kind of like when I thought that being less than 90 pounds would make boys like me and my life would be perfect--no, not so much).Life will just be better. But as my dad pointed out, however, something will just take school's place. I will have something else to complain about or be anxious about or to "get through." The only way that things will really be better is if I change my view on things--my perspective--my outlook. This is daunting but give me hope--and fuels my pink high heel project. It is daunting as it takes a profuse amount of energy to change one's perspective. Hopeful, however, because it makes the next year of school potentially less scary. I am a little late in discovering this--school starts tomorrow. Or rather--I should have visited my daddy a little earlier in the summer. Nonetheless, it is a glimmer of hope.

CAGE

CAGE is the screening questionnaire that is used to screen for alcoholism. I took the test tonight and failed. These are the questions:

1. Have you ever felt you should cut down on your drinking?

2. Have people annoyed you by criticising your drinking?

3. Have you ever felt bad or guilty about your drinking?

4. Have you ever had a drink first thing in the morning to steady your nerves or get rid of a hangover (eye-opener)?

If you answer yes to 2 or more of these, you are at risk for a drinking problem or alcoholism. I scored a 2...it is true that I have often thought that I needed to cut back and I have often felt guilty about drinking. This scares me--it scares me to the core. It is a hard concept for me to grasp though. I don't feel abnormal--it is more that I really enjoy a glass of wine or two in the evenings after a long and stressful day at work or school or clinical....when I "drink alone" it is not hard liquor nor am I trying to hide it from anyone--I just so happen to have a glass of wine in the evenings when my husband isn't home yet. I don't hide my drinking, I don't lie about how much I drink. I certainly don't need to drink to get through the day and have never needed an eye-opener. I drink wine and beer--never hard liquor...though I don't suppose that matters. My drinking has never interfered with any of my responsibilities...but I do crave a glass of wine or two, or a beer at night. Am I an alcoholic? I wonder. I drink to relax me, to let go, to relax. I feel guilty when I have had too much to drink because I feel like crap and I act stupid. It doesn't happen too terribly often, but more often than I think is right. "Just stop" you might say--but that is where I get hung up--I am having a hard time doing that...just stopping. I don't know whether it is because of dependence or habit. I don't know if it is because I feel so stressed beyond belief half the time right now that I don't otherwise know how to chill out. It is social. It is personal. I am scared. I think that somewhere in my history there was an alcoholic...there was certainly a great grandparent addicted to gambling. Maybe I just need to get pregnant--I certainly would never drink during my pregnancy...I write this as I sip a glass of wine, alone on my couch. Hypocrit. I failed the CAGE....

The Irony of A/C

Just as I was beginning to think that a true Virginia summer would never happen, today happened. In true August fashion, it is hot and stickey outside with promises of temps nearing 100 this weekend. Ahhhh--something to look forward to. I mention this only becuase of the impact it has on every indoor activity you might possibly participate in and the obnoxious impact on my wardrobe. I don't like wearing shorts (refer back to shadows on my thighs) and yet wearing anything else in weather like this is truly oppressive. Jeans are completely out of the question and capris are borderline--thus necessitating the need for shorts. As for upper body attire, this is always a tough decision--finding something to wear that will not show the truly obscene amounts of sweat (i.e. anything black or white) but that doesn't require a strapless bra (too labor intensive). The upshot is that I end up in the same outfit neraly daily and have to replace my white anything every 2weeks on account of the hideous and embarrassing yellow pit stains. The irony of all of this, however, is that we dress scantily to brave the rediculous heat and humidity but just end up someplace indoors where the A/C is cranking and you are laucky if the temperature is 60, tops. If you are not wearing a bra with your strapless something or other, then you are even worse off as it looks like you are smuggling tic tacs, raisinettes if God was kinda. This necessitates the bringing of a sweater to all indoor locations in the dead of summer. I can't even begin to tell you how silly I feel carrying an emergency cardigan with me lest I die of hypothermia in a movie theater or mall. I might feel slightly less chagrin about the topic if I were not the only person sporting a 3/4 length J.Crew look-alike @ 95 degrees and 85% humidity outside, but that never seems to be the case. How is it that the mini teens and tweens walk around in practically nothing and never seem to get cold? I don't know--nor do I know why I am wondering about such things....funny how the mind works. Either way, it is hot as butt outside and when the alarm clock goes off at 5:45, the A/C should not already be on!

Mold, Marlin and Fear

I have every good reason to be scared of my MIL's food. Today, minding my own business, eating a unidentifiable noodle dish given to us by said MIL, I stab another bite and looked down to see a gumball size pocket of green and white fuzzy mold staring at me. Not immediately puking was not an easy task, but sitting with a group of semi-strangers meant I could not follow such instincts. Swallowing hard, I fought the urge to dry heave and instead, very politely excused myself from the table and rocketed the grossness into the trash. EWWWWWWW!!!! Need I say more? And my husband wonders why I pick at everything and sniff everything his mother gives us. GROSS!
I caught one of the beginning portions of Finding Nemo this morning and it dawned on me that I am much like Marlin. Scared of everything--always wondering the what-ifs and letting them paralyze me. I really am not scared of everything--but I am scared enough that it changes how I live my life. There are risks that I wish I had taken, choices that I wish I had made, opportunities that I lost--all based on my fear. There are lots of fears. Fear of not being prepared, of not knowing how to do something, of being wrong or looking stupid, of the unknown, of anything different. I do really well with routines and changes from that make me anxious. It is anxiety too--I am anxious as that damn fish--and look where it got him! Nowhere! His mini-flippered son disappeared and it wasn't until he manned up and grew a pair (if fish even have a pair) that things turned out okay. Is that what I need to do? Grow a proverbial pair?
Fears. The fears. I would be an airline pilot right now if I hadn't been scared. I would also not have gone to UVA. I would be able to get rid of my paper bank and credit card statements. I would be able to be honest all the time without fear of being left and abandoned. I would be able to "stick to my guns" and not be resentful and frustrated for giving up my convictions. I might be able to stand up for myself (or maybe not) and I might even be willing to put my neck out and write the children's book I have always wanted to write. Fear and anxiety. Fear and anxiety.
I feel pathetic. I am a semi-grown woman (I will never be a real grown up) and I am dominated by fear and anxiety. I am expert and playing out in my head all the possible scenarios in any situation. And I let those scenarios stop me in my tracks--freeze me. FUCK! Even my career (though I love taking care of my kiddos with cancer and would never in a million years take it back) is based on SOMEONE ELSE'S hopes and dreams and aspirations. Not my own!
Wow--never said that out loud before. Feels a little odd...maybe some sense of freedom...though I probably won't ever really feel that until I apologize to the person whose dream I copied. I am struggling to believe that it doesn't make me a bad person. Struggling and failing. If you read this--you know who you are--I am sorry--and someday maybe I will be fearless enough to actually say it to your face.
I am sorry world. I am a coward. A fake. Is that why I want to do daredevil things? To prove that I am fearless? Is that why I want to find myself? To prove that I am not a fake?