Failure theories

Thinking about the end of Oprah’s show, a quote Marilyn M. posted earlier, and where I am at the moment. First, the quote. "Failures do what is tension relieving, while winners do what is goal achieving." - Dennis Waitley. I definitely spend most of my time tension relieving, and not always in the healthiest ways. I nap. I drink. I surf the net. I actually fail before this quote ever starts because I don’t have a goal. I always think I could be an Oprah. Well, I could do the interviewing/idea part. In my head, of course. What I lack that Oprah has in abundance is drive. She has goals. She attacks them and makes her goals reality. I would bet that the word “driven” would describe her well. She will tell you she is guided by a higher purpose. I am here to tell you that she probably works her ass off too. I bet she gets up at the ass crack of dawn and works well into the night. I want achievement, but I don’t have that kind of energy. Nothing, not even writing, can change my generally lazy nature. I want the dancer’s body, but I can’t imagine dancing for more than a few minutes at a time. Practicing for hours? Not on my life! I am two people. I am the Saint Mary’s valedictorian. I am also the woman who has been underemployed for years. I have no career goals. I don’t want to make the tough choices and put in the time to succeed. For example, my current job is pretty easy. Any time, like today, when the job hints at being more difficult, I balk internally. I don’t want to “up my game.” I don’t want to be playing the game! I don’t even know what I would want to succeed at other than writing. And in my heart, I don’t believe I will ever succeed at writing no matter how many times I’ve pretended to be brave and confident about a writing career. I prove my failure mentality every day that I don’t show up to the blank page or screen. My mind is a jumble. I can’t even make sense of all this right now. I just know that I don’t have what it takes to succeed in a way like Oprah. I also know I’m not supposed to compare myself to others. I’m supposed to find the thing that I was put here for. I’m just feeling so much pressure! We don’t have enough money. James isn’t following a dream either. I’m almost 41. Oprah has worked 25 years for what she has. She has followed a dream for decades. I’m losing myself against the passage of time and my own inertia.

To say that I've been slack in my blogging would be an understatement. I have been doing other writing, and no one reads this shit anyway. However, I can always count on a pet peeve to get me in the writing mood.

It is mid May and to my mind summer is already here. When the temperature frequently gets above 70, I get cranky. Apparently, though, this reaction is uncommon, maybe even subversive. I heard a commercial earlier today touting the joys of summer-time with friends, vacations, joy, joy, joy! Honestly, though, unless you are a teacher or a student, what the hell is so special about summer? I still have to go to work every weekday only now I get to sweat profusely while I do it. I don't see my friends any more often in summer than in winter, spring or fall. Should I be excited about shorts and tank tops? You wouldn't be if you had my alabaster skin and flabby arms. Summer means extra sunscreen and the forehead zits I get from wearing hats to protect my face from the sun. Sandals you say? Well, I for one wouldn't enjoy showing everyone my ugly feet even IF I didn't have hyperhidrosis. This is a medical condition that causes my hands and feet to sweat profusely. Trust me when a say that sandals are not an option when your feet produce tablespoons of sweat by the hour. Last but not least, I reserve special disdain for all the commercials and articles dedicated to VACATION. Who the hell has money to go on vacation? Certainly not me. I don't know if anyone else has heard, but there's been a recession and high unemployment from which I was not exempt. And have you seen gas prices lately? Sometimes I feel like I am working for the gas money to get to and from my job.

So I say to hell with summer. I'm taking my sweaty, alabaster ass inside and waiting for fall.

Imprisoned by Free Time

I would guess that most busy people, especially those who work, spend some of the day contemplating what they would do with more free time. Volunteering, catching up on housecleaning, traveling, reading, hanging out with friends are just a few of the activities working people imagine themselves doing if only they had more time. I've had that time since being fired back in October of 2010. And I have done exactly none of those things. In fact, my days have become endless stretches of time primarily spent hating myself. My activities have included looking for work, Facebook, journaling, watching TV, and minimal housecleaning and laundry. Volunteering sounds good, until I factor in the cost of gas. Same for travel. In fact, any activity that even hints at the expenditure of money is off my possible "to-do" list. I can't really hang out with friends because they are at work. I was never much of an organizer or housewife to begin with, and having more time to do it does not make it easier. To be fair to myself, I had significant outpatient surgery mid-December. Add to that some winter weather and you have the formula for a stay-at-home depressive.

On January 3rd, I resolved to eat less and exercise more. I'm proud to say I have stuck to that promise. There are 23 other hours in the day, though, and at this point, I'm spending about 12 of those asleep. My only conclusion is that work, though often distasteful, gives some structure to our days. My biggest regret, the elephant in the room so to speak, is that I have not used this time to explore freelance writing. I do not sit down every day and work at being a writer. I was more productive when I had a job. Why? I think because the job offered contrast. It offered a day-to-day reminder of what I did NOT want. That dissatisfaction was a seed of motivation. When I worked, I wished for more time to write. Now that I have it, I don't have anything to say. I'm a fan of irony, but not when it leaves me feeling like a failure. Having something that everyone seems to want, i.e. free time, and not being able to enjoy it, has left me sad and guilt-ridden. If there is a lesson to be learned here, I am still struggling to find it. Wish me luck.

The MOHS nose Part II

I look back at that oh-so-innocent post from December 12th and realize I had no idea what I was in for! "Layers" is the term used in all the MOHS literature, but it is misleading at best. I had a hole in my nose the size of a dime and at least as deep as a nickel. I was utterly unprepared for the 5-hour procedure. Multiple shots of anesthesia to my face. A hole in my nose. A flap procedure to close the hole that left me looking vaguely Frankenstein-esque. A little more than three weeks post-op, I can put it all in perspective. I have healed well, and most of the people I have seen claim not to notice a difference. I notice it. I see myself in the mirror every day. I see the scar. I see the subtle changes to the landscape of my nose. But I also see that there is no cancer present. I have my nose--well, most of it--as it was. In three weeks, I have traversed an emotional minefield. I am thankful it is over and that there is only more healing to come.

Coulda Shoulda Woulda

One of my biggest challenges is dealing with the "shoulds". My therapist calls it "shoulding on yourself". I consider myself to be lazy and uninspired. Therefore, I berate myself constantly with all the things I should be to alter this self-perception. I should be energetic. I should tackle a room and clean it thoroughly. I should volunteer. Sometimes, I have difficulty making a simple phone call or appointment. I haven't had a haircut or color since July. I haven't had an adjustment in three weeks. Granted, both activities had to be postponed following surgery, but I've been able to reschedule for over a week now. I can't even muster the wherewithal (I don't know what else to call it) to pick up the phone to do something that might make me feel good. I am perfectly content to sit at home. If someone would give me permission to do just that and take away this guilt, I would be free.

Be Snazzy!

Okay, by my count it is day two of the New Year's resolution program. I didn't start on Saturday January 1st because, well, it was Saturday for goodness sake! Who starts self-improvement plans on the weekend? Day two and I have managed to keep my resolutions. I worked out yesterday and today, and I have done writing practices daily. The hardest part of resolutions is trying not to stress out about them. I play a pretty good game of 'What if?' with myself. What if I get sick? What if I miss a day? What if I lose my momentum? It's as if my own brain wants to derail my efforts at being fitter and more productive. When I feel myself entering a crisis of the mind like this, I have only my cognitive behavioral therapy as back up. All these thoughts are just negative self-talk posing as real problems. It is up to me to drown those voices with snazzy comebacks. Sick? I'm not as likely to get sick now that I am exercising daily. Miss a day? Get right back in the groove the next day. Only celebrities and athletes work out every single day. Lose momentum? Not possible. I create my own momentum. Maybe these comebacks aren't exactly snazzy, but I think my therapist would be proud.

New Year to You

The big question for me was whether to deal with resolutions today or postpone til Monday. Guess which one I chose? Today will be a day of indulgence. I am not going to think about all the ways I can improve my life this year. I'm going to zone out and watch bad TV. Please feel free to join me in my apathetic revelry. Whatever you do today, best of luck in the new year.

The MOHS nose

Here I am, after years of protecting my fair skin, facing MOHS treatment. For those blessedly unfamiliar, this is a procedure in which layer after layer is removed until no cancer is found. Now, true, the cure rate is somewhere between 97 and 99 percent. Yay. But I also don't know how much of my nose they will take. One layer? Two? Ten? Even the woman who called me today said "We don't know how you will be closed up." In other words, it depends on how far down they go. The word "graft" was interjected in there somewhere. WTF? Why bother.

Hyperhidrosis

I have had hyperhidrosis since I can remember. My hands and feet sweat excessively. Over the years, this health topic has made the rounds from local news to Oprah. Usually, it is dismissed as a minor health problem. I would argue that it is far more destructive than non-sufferers imagine. What if your feet sweat so profusely, you could not wear sandals in summer? What if every job interview was a nightmare because your hands literally drip with sweat? What if the pleasure of moisturizing your hands and/or feet could be destroyed by excess sweat? What if you could not pursue a hobby like calligraphy, sewing, or knitting because sweat pours from your hands? As a sufferer, I would suggest that hyperhidrosis is far more challenging than non-sufferers can imagine. Why? Simply because you do not know what it is like to sweat profusely, constantly. Perhaps the reason I enjoy cold weather is simply because I get relief from this chronic condition. Excessive sweating may seem small in comparison to other health issues, but I ask you to put yourself in my shoes. How would your life change if your hands and feet were not just slightly damp, but soaked in uncontrollable sweat? Goodbye flip flops, handshakes, nice stationery, crafting, etc. Every solution I have tried has had less-than-stellar results. There will be no telethons for hyperhidrosis, and I understand that. Excessive sweating will not kill me. It will, however, inhibit my clothing, my social interactions, and my pursuits as I make my way in the world. Could you live with that???

Confession

I have never admitted this, but I enjoy being sick. Most people dread cold and flu season, but I kind of like it. When I am down with a bad cold or the flu, it is the only time I can be totally self-indulgent and lazy without a hint of guilt. I stay up late watching bad TV as I drift in and out of pharmaceutical-induced hazes. I lose weight effortlessly. My husband brings me tabloid magazines and hot toddies. Sure, I hurt. My body aches or my head pounds--possibly both. But I get to experience total, guilt-free relaxation. No one expects anything of you when you are really sick. In fact, they don't even want you around. It's great! I don't expect anyone else out there to embrace, let alone enjoy, his or her next bout with the flu. I would, however, encourage you to find the potential rainbow within the storm. How often do you get to totally escape from responsibility? Try to go with it and realize that before you know it, you will be back to the real world with all its commitments, labors, and to-do lists.

3 Months Wasted

In my last post, I pledged to write more. Three months have passed. I have written more in general, but I've obviously neglected my blog. As I mentioned previously, I'm thinking about changing the direction of this site. I am feeling more positive than I have in a long while. In fact, an essay I wrote was accepted to a local publication. Obviously, that made me very happy. I've been working to maintain a positive outlook and fight depression with exercise and writing. I've been focusing on the positive whenever possible and rejecting negative thoughts. It seems counter-productive to blog about the purely negative. I'm considering the changes I want to make. Hell, since no one is reading, I can totally change this blog or I can start another one. Whatever happens, I know that from now on I need to work daily to reach my dream of writing for a living.

It Matters to Me

I realize no one reads this, but I still want to announce my intention to come back to writing. It doesn't matter who reads, what I think, nothing matters but the writing. Perhaps it is time for this blog to transition from only one aspect of my personality to the broader picture I have of myself, that of Writer. Not just negative, depressed woman at odds with the world. But also the woman who writes about these experiences. I am the woman who values my own experience. My one life is precious enough.

Now and Then

It used to be that things were written down, documented. Now everything is a bad-link away from non-existence. Does my writing mean anything if it disappears? I am asking this question within a blog, which means I already know part of the answer. Our modern times, our moment of history, is invisible without the written or spoken word RECORDED. That is what makes it "real."

Ah, Spring! I wish I could like you, but sadly, I can not. You usher in the season of sandals and flip-flops. Thus, I am subjected to the hideousness that is most feet. Callouses, unkempt nails, cracked heels, toenail fungus....the works. I just can't stand it. I KNOW my feet are ugly, and for the sake of humanity, I keep them covered. I do not subject people to their ugliness. I wish others would be so considerate.

I'll Be Bloggin' My Way Back to You Babe

with a burning love inside...I want to be more productive. Write more. Blog more frequently. I have a lot to say. Most of it is rambling and useless, but what if something I write touches someone? What if I share something that eases someone else's mind? I love being home alone and thinking, drinking, and smoking. It is a small vacation for me. And I know J is having fun too. It's a great way to live. With your best friend, lover, champion. It is good stuff and I know I am blessed.

Questions

What are the questions we all ask? Why me? How did this happen? Why do I exist? Does this person love me? How can I love myself? And on and on and on.....

Stop asking. Just be who you are. Don't worry about the rest. If you are honest, then you will be brave and true. You do not have to worry about being right. You simply are. That is enough.

Love to you all.

It's My life

Don't you forget. It's my Life. It never ends...........there are good moments and there are bad. which do we choose?

new plan: PBR and box wine. We will save $$$. I am in a conservation mode, and it suits me. I don't want to work more right now. I also want to say that "prodigal" means "abundant", even "lavish". for years i thought the word had to do with the son's return, not with the celebration that accompanied it. i missed the whole point! i learned this from B Kingsolver. i love her. there is no need to write b/c she is the BEST.

What to do with happiness?

Not that anyone is reading, but I still feel badly that I haven't posted in almost 2 months. It's hard to come up with something for a negativity blog when I've been feeling relatively happy. The truth is, feeling happy for this long makes me nervous. I suspect I'm not alone in this. When things go well for too long, those of us who see the glass half empty wonder when said glass will shatter all to hell. It simply is not a normal state of being. Not to mention I dread becoming one of those people who is so constantly upbeat that other people want to throttle me. My negative thoughts are not all gone, I assure you. Just this morning I looked at my feet and thought "how ugly!" I have thought about this imperfection all day, and it's bringing me down. Ahhh! That's better.

I feel a Google coming on....

When you are high and/or drunk and you have a question pop into your head. It slowly dawns on you that you have the answer at your fingertips. Thus, I feel a Google coming on. I saw a Juice Newton video and now I need to know if she is alive or dead. I think I may be getting her confused with the woman who sang "Gloria." So now I must leave you so that I may go Google the answer to my query.