U-Turn Here

A heart never forgets

2010-12-07T11:34:00.000-08:00

In 1996, when I first arrived at Stanford, I was young, an idealist, and a hedonistic idiot. Regardless, on my first day to class, my eyes rested on a handsome, young man who was obviously from Canada (flag on back pack, predictable and a sure sign). He had an immediate effect on me, like a punch in the stomach, butterflies in the chest, and too much champagne in the head.

Forget the fact that he was two heads shorter than me, every time I saw him heading for that classroom door, my breath stopped and I was ready to pass out. Really... I am not talking about infatuation (ok, actually I am!!!), but an immediate, involuntary physical response to that boy.

Days dragged on into weeks. I do not recall how it was that we finally spoke to each other, or even what was said. My memory conveniently skips from those gut wrenching moments of anonymity, to the lonely craving and wishing, and the constant self restraint when spending time with him, for as you may guess, he had a girlfriend back home.

All that changed, with one stolen (or perhaps more accurately, tempted) kiss. We, a group of 6, were watching a movie in his room. My memory, still vague on the details, remembers 4 people climbing up on the bunk above. Me and him on his bed, below, watching a movie. Somehow, I was lying next to him and he had his arm around me.

I remember struggling for breath from his proximity. I was too scared to move, lest he let go, or move away, trying to control my body from shivering... Somehow, i had turned, and he leaned forward. Our lips met, not in some hot fiery french kiss, but in the sweetest, most memorable 'kiss' i have ever had. As if just passing by, our lips fluttered onto each other, barely feeling the others. It was as sensation much like a memory, so light, so tender, that one wonders if it ever happened. But his lips did not move away, they tickled and relaxed into a warm, tender embrace of mine. I was paralyzed, both in sensory overload, in fear of it stopping, in disbelief of it happening.

Alas, the things that burn the hottest and brightest, burn out the fastest. "We need to talk" he said and pulled me off the bed and outside. The other 4 people in his room wondered what had happened...

Outside, on the fence by his dorm, he sat facing me, holding my hand. "You know this can't happen again, right?" He asked. The girlfriend, and his ethics would not permit it. I don't remember if I was able to hold my tears back. I know I cried for many days after that. We could have had something amazing.

I moved pretty fast after that. I had decided to never give my heart away again. It was logic that would drive me. I met a guy from a local frat and within 2 weeks we were a couple. As long I was with that frat boy, no one could break my heart (as it did not belong to anyone, i thought). I remember a couple of months later at a party, I saw the Canadian. He approached me as if wanting to talk to me... then frat boy came by from the other side... "Meet my boyfriend!" i had said flippantly. I saw his face change, he politely said good bye.

A few months later i found out he stopped out of college to pursue an acting career. The next time I saw him was not until 2000, when I was already married, and working in a local coffee house. He stopped by, excited to have seen me. He noticed my ring and said (with hidden disappointment), are you engaged? No, I told him, flippantly like before, I am married. One more bad decision, where my heart had not been involved.

By pure accident, through a FB friend's pictures I fell upon a current picture of the Canadian today. Instantly, as if time had not passed, i felt my gut clench, my chest hurt, my head swim. Hot tears rolled in my eyes, and I remembered the sweetness of that kiss. My heart never forgot him.

I played it safe. I added him to my linkedin account where there are no pictures showing the decline of my body, the weight, the wrinkles of marriage. He accepted immediately with a warm, sweet message.

So now, I struggle... I feel unattractive, unworthy, but want to see him, hear him talk, catch up... I want to ask him out to lunch, but am scared, scared of putting myself out there, scared of rejection (he is single, but i am certainly not what I looked like the last time I saw him!), scared I might fall in love with him, again, scared I might discover he is not perfect (inevitable!).

I am scared of letting my heart live again.

POOP!!!! (be forewarned!)

2010-10-18T16:58:00.000-07:00

My life rotates around poop. Although for me that can be quite frustrating, I can appreciate its comical nature from outside.

I wake up at 2.00 a.m. every morning (Ungodly hour!) thinking of: poop. I jump out of bed, half awake, throw on a big sweatshirt, leash the dog and walk him, in eager anticipation of said poop. Its manifestation signifies a quick withdrawal back into the warmth of my home, and into the still warm pillows and blankets of my bed. I drift off back into deep slumber, realizing, that the full poop bag was accidentally placed in my sweatshirt pocket instead of the thrash can. That's what I get for sleepwalking the dog. I rise, resentfully and dig the bag out of the sweatshirt pocket and go back outside into the cold, to drop the sleep offering into the street garbage can. YUK.

Relieved, I retire to my bed, and drift off to sleep.

Mornings, at 6, I repeat the ritual, this time much more alert and happy. Occasionally, when our 2 a.m. walks are especially productive, i stop at the fenced dog park and let the dog off leash, stimulating him to take care of business. It does not always work.

I then return home, shower and wake up the little kid, Breakfast is usually followed by patient story times while waiting for him to... POOP on the potty.

Scoop the kitty box, take out the trash, head to school/work.

Depending on how our 6 a.m. walk went, I am thinking about Poop all morning at work. I HATE poop in my house. So at lunch, resentful, i drive home, and take the pup out again. Usually this time, the end result is plentiful.

Back at work, i am relieved, that the pup is relieved. I focus on work, and planning the usual dog play dates in the evenings.

After work I pick up the kid, make sure he poops before we go, and head to the dog park, where 6 out of 10 times, the kid steps in, rolls in and somehow gets into.. well.. you guessed it - POOP. The pup in the other hand likes to hold out, awaiting his 2.00 a.m. walk. Argh!

Washing dog poop off sneakers is fun. First off you need the right tools. A skewer stick, a bristle brush, and something to plug up your nose. You use the stick to scrape the poop stuck in the grooves of the souls, and the brush to brush out the rest. Poop on clothing requires special care too. Poop in hair is tricky, since washing it can often get it all over the tub, and sometimes, when the kid is especially wiggly in his face. GOOD LORD, I am POOPED out by then!

Now, the pup is actually Lab mix. Those knowing Labs are already nodding knowingly. When you have a Lab puppy, you basically assume everything in your house is edible. Socks, undies are delicacies. Leather bound books, shoes and pillows are great chew toys. Wiring electronics and cell phones, are pure destruction.

Having a Lab means, that in addition to walking, playing chewing and eating, I also have this duty I call POOP WATCH. Basically, after particularly destructive chewing episodes, I have to observe and note poop consistency, color, and speed of manifestation, to assure no blockage. Also, when picking up said poop, I have to squish it (I use a bag!!!!_) around in the bag to ascertain content - be it a whole sock, or partial elastic band from kids undies.

The other day, while on poop watch, i was performing my duties in the park, when i noticed what looked like a folded bill. Now my kid folds money like that all the time, and leaves it around. His grandpa gives him $100 bills every so often (don't get me started!). So seeing a folded bill in the puppy poop presented me with a dilemma... How much money would the bill have to be for me not to pull it out? Well i did have to break up the poop, and pull the folded bill out (still whole) and unfold it. DOllar bill - Damn! I threw it in the garbage with the poop, only to realize that a family with their two pre-teens were sitting across from me. Their faces told the story of not having ever owned a dog...

So, here is to my daily life of poop. I love it as it is. I love my kid, I love my dog, and would not change it for anything. But if I ever win the lottery. . . I am hiring a dog walker and a poop watcher. Amen!

Feeling Better Now

2010-08-11T16:36:00.000-07:00

From our Russian River Canoeing trip this weekend

I have been trying to focus on me. I am exhausted of whining about the past and really feel the need to move forward. I also have noticed that posting things here about M, has actually not been as therapeutic as I had hoped. Instead, my posts have been giving more power to the frustration, sadness and loneliness that I have been feeling.

So going forward I am focusing on the future, on me now, and on the past pre-M. My post On Looking Good (Feeling Better) on my weight loss blog 100lbs of discovery (which is pretty rough and relatively new) is my latest update of that journey.

Golden Gate Bridge at dusk. Our trip to Tomales Bay from 2 weeks ago.

I have really been better about looking forward lately, which perhaps has been part of the reason for the drop off of posts on this blog. Regardless, I do intend to do a brief retrospective on "Previous Lives". I need to go back and remember what life was like before M came into my life. I do recall being happy and excited and full of hope and dreams! The "Previous Lives" task has been overwhelming and I have been working on compartmentalizing it before posting. After all, our vision when looking forward is often affected by where we have been...

Stay positive, strong, and optimistic!

Russian River trip - the best pic on my camera :)

Making friends

2010-08-04T15:17:00.000-07:00

Men are such simple creatures. Women so complex. That is the very reason that most of the social leaders in the past have been men. It is easier to gain power by clubbing your opponent on the head then by guilting, loving and shaming them into submission.

I have always been one of those women who found common ground with men, much easier than women. There is something much more genuine, simple and powerful in the initial bonding process of guys. I have never been good at making friends with women, because the process has always seemed so strenuous, strained, and simulated.

After a long stagnation, I have found that making friend, in general, is not easy anymore. And at times, on a night off, I have found no one to spend time with. This is so sad, but also motivating. It is time to leave to comfort of existing friendships and start some new ones... If only, in our age of technology, there was a way that spelled out how to do that.

Life moves on

2010-07-27T12:44:00.000-07:00

My little guy who makes everything a joy!

I am ready for a new beginning. I can taste it.... smell it, sometimes I wake up and I feel it. A bright new day, a life of joy, and peace. It does not seem so far away.

The ties that held me back over the last few years have loosened up. People have passed, people have moved on, people have let go. I have let go of most of it. Now, to look forward.

The hardest thing for me has always been identifying what I want. Even with the fullest conviction at one moment, my goals change the next. Short term, I see them clearly, along with the hurdles needed to overcome to achieve them. The long term, still remains cloudy. I know with complete certainty that i can not stay where I am now (in every aspect of life: finances, education, work). But which direction to take?

I often forget I am almost 33. I still feel like I have all the time in the world. People will say that is true. After all 33 is not that old. But it IS old, considering the life experiences I have been through, the obligations I have taken on, and the responsibilities I have chosen and committed myself to. 10 years of inactivity is also hard to overcome.

So there... I am contemplating change. Its but the first step in a positive direction. Being aware of your wishes, of what is holding you back and being able to look at these objectively. The hardest step is step 2: Taking action. I am planning action. Is it the right action? That remains for time to test and approve.

Still optimistic, till next time.

Change

2010-07-13T14:45:00.000-07:00

I am again, committing to change.

0n May 25th, 2010 my dad passed away.

2010-06-04T12:51:00.000-07:00

Long time no post -- On why my mind is in total disarray

2010-05-08T22:45:00.000-07:00

I know I am going through some kind of special trial by fire. I am certain I will emerge on the other end, stronger, wiser . . . older.

In the last two months

M attempted suicide
Somehow I was the only one authorized to deal with medical and health decisions for him
The hospital discharged him after a few days without notifying any family members - chaos ensued.
Then, I had a long conversation with his ex"room-mate" - It turned my perception of the last 10 years, upside down.
I came to the sudden realization M is really really sick.
I determined to cut off all contact.
My mom called - Dad's cancer had spread - he had 6-8 weeks to go - max
My parents have made no plans for his death what so ever (after 9 years of sickness)
A week later their house was sold by the land lord. They had 60 days notice in a market where rents had doubled in rental price.
M's fury about being isolated and me talking to his girlfriend of 2 years was unleashed
Dad's chemo did not help. Dad admitted in hospital on palliative care
Mom in complete despair, alone a world away

Leaving me... looking for housing for her, applying for my citizenship, prepping immigration paperwork to bring her here, figuring out the next steps for her once dad passes...

All this wile still struggling wiht my complete isolation from adult company.

I keep breathing, and reminding myself: This too shall pass...

On why I hate romantic movies

2010-03-31T14:17:00.000-07:00

Image borrowed from HERE

I rarely watch romantic movies. They leave such a bitter sweet taste in my mouth! Part of the issue is that the characters are always (BJ's diaries is the only one I can think of where that is not necessarily the case) so polished, physically perfect, glowing, and in some way adorable. Up on the silver screen they have no BO, they dress perfectly and their personal quirks are usually what is glorified. None of them pick their noses while driving, and even when working out they personify an unattainable image.

The plot lines are even more irksome. Some perfect 10 is single and struggling to find companionship. They meet another perfect 10 and go through some trial and upheaval only to have the universe bring them back together. Come on! I used to be a perfect 10 (trust me, I was! I did travel through many a continent modeling as a teenager after all!) I was never single, and never had issues meeting a mate. Romance was around every corner. Those days are gone now.

I look at these movies and always leave depressed, feeling alone and hopeless. The thoughts of "I am never eating again" and "Fat girls never get the guy" only ever pass through my head when viewing a romantic flick. I go through a day of moodiness and self pity.

Horror movies on the other hand cheer me up. They are so obviously removed from reality that should they cause any type of self reflection I should probably be seeking psychiatric help.

So there! Life would be so much easier as a perfect 10. Luckily in my case i need to focus on substance over looks. I am a better person for it, I know.

TRAUMA

2010-03-23T21:00:00.001-07:00

Trauma: This is what the evaluation specialist determined the issue was. After the last 2 weeks I decided to see if I can go back into therapy. I had to get evaluated in order to determine the type of counseling I needed. The determination was Trauma. I realize now that this is probably a correct evaluation.

I have spent the last few years made up a million excuses as to why M was like this. I now realize that I was in part blaming myself.

Last week M’s ex-“roommate” called me. She wanted to talk to me. She had questions. I had wondered if I was about his attempted suicide 4 days earlier. She barely touched on that. She wanted to know about the past. The questions shocked me. They were basic and came from a place of complete delusion about the facts. I found out more from these questions than I could have ever imagined. Apparently I am a bloodthirsty lawyer who earns $300,000 a year. I own a gorgeous mansion in the hills but harass him for large amounts of money to support lil’ A. I am a terrible mother and neglectful. I don’t help him with anything and I have been ‘chasing him’ all these years.

I also found out that he was dating her long before he asked for a second chance, before he even moved back in with me two years ago, and all the late night calls he was doing while walking the dog when he lived with me were to her. I already knew that but was surprised to find out he had told her he was living with his pastor at that time. The number of lies was so sheer, so imaginative, so detailed that I was entirely overwhelmed.

In August when he moved out they had already agreed on living together. Meanwhile he had me posting ads for roommates well into September. She admitted he was her first ‘real’ boyfriend and she had lost her virginity to him. This was while we were still living together (but luckily I had cut him off physically long before).

The lies to her spoke louder than anything about the lies he told me about her and his relationship with her. I did not ask her any questions. I did not have to. She shared with me the birthday celebrations he made for her (an exact repetition of mine), and the ‘special’ activities he had done with her (I had no heart to tell her they are but a part of standard repertoire.)

Before she left she sat there, holding back her tears. She the voiced the one thing that I had been asking myself over the years: “What did I do wrong to deserve this type of treatment? Why did he do this to me?” Her pain, he blame of herself, her reaction shredded me on the inside.

I think I was in shock for most of that day. The next morning I woke up numb. I realized my whole life, my whole reality, my whole understanding of the last 10 years was a lie. And then the final punch: He is sick, this is sick, this is a serious psychiatric issue. I am full of anger. I am full of blame for what she is going through. I am full of confusion, my view of the last 10 years turned completely on its head.

Trauma. Certainly.

Discovery after 10 years: It is not my fault - Part 1

2010-03-19T16:43:00.000-07:00

Image borrowed from HERE

About M. I am angry but relieved. I am uncomfortable dealing with the pain of the last week or so right now... so I will seep out the life-altering event a little at a time as I am ready.

BTW, I named M as in (Manipulator). It fits him well.

Here are some reflections on the past. The headings I borrowed from an article on Sociopaths.

THE LAST 10 Years.

The Superficiality of Image

Image was the most important thing to him. He drove a race car and dressed "European". He was often called a metro-sexual. He always had the funds to get the latest Bekham like haircut (but not to see a movie with me or take A anywhere). In public he was the doting husband, while in private berating me for not dressing well enough, for my hair, my make-up for anything out of place to the stranger's eyes. He exaggerated every fact of anything material that he had. Even when we bought a new car, a 2005 Land Rover, he told the world we got a 2006 Range Rover. Nothing real was ever good enough and appearance of affluence and perfection was expected. The celebrations of occasions, always in public, were always intricate and flamboyant.

The Absence of Feelings

One of the first things I had noticed about him after we married was that he was unable to have any empathy for people or animals. Sympathy was but an act. It took the smallest thing to provoke him into anger. A passive, mean, cruel anger. He was vengeful, and would often have temper tantrums like a child. There was no conversation. Everything was turned on me, and no matter what happened it seems I was the one apologizing at the end. He hated conflict, avoiding it by walking away, hanging up, leaving the house and turning his phone off. I learned to bottle everything up and walk on egg shells. He manipulated every situation to get what he wanted and used me to do so.

The Relentlessness of Deception

He lied to me. All the time. A pink daisy often became a huge red rose.

One missed call became, i called you like 30 times! There were lies about nothing of consequence. Lies about grandeur that did not exist, exaggerations of the smallest detail of daily life, and fanciful stories where ever you looked. Those bothered me beyond belief. They were no white lies. They were needless lies. Then there were the lies about the past. It took all 10 years to dig the truthful grain that his 'history' was built from. And the BIG lies. The whats, whens and whos that covered up for the cyclical need to have romantic encounters with whoever was the latest accessory of the month (mostly co-workers). Caught out in one lie, he would turn it on me and make me feel like I was crazy, unstable, controlling and jealous. When some truth was gleamed out, his indiscretions were always my fault somehow. I did not dress right, I was too skinny (and later too fat) etc.

With time I became obsessed in gathering all the lies and finding a way to confront him so that he would have no choice but to come clean. To this day, I have not succeeded.

The Impulsiveness of Action

He never planned ahead. Everything was immediate, on a whim, and unexpected. It was impossible to have him commit to anything: A dinner with friends, a movie, a ride back home from the abortion I had the 2nd year we were married. He would say he'll call me and disappear for hours. Each offense to me, each act, was blown off, was explained away, was broken into bits of additional lies. The most extraordinary stories were backed by intricate details and the conviction of truth. Every promise made was broken and I was always the crazy one for feeling so. He lived so in the moment that I remember spending many a night alone peeking out the window at every car passing by to see if he was home and doing so 3 nights in a row. His phone was, conveniently, out of battery. And then, I was the crazy controlling wife, for worrying about what I believed was my partner. He was always superior and his actions always justified in his head. The fault always mine.

No More Whinging

2010-03-08T16:59:00.000-08:00

I serve a purpose. I am needed. I love those who need me.

I am powerful. I make my own choices. I own my choices.

I am determined. I will do what is necessary. I will achieve.

I am giving. I will share my joys. I will pour out everything I have.

I am worth it. I am happy. I am.

Image taken by me Sat, March 6,2010

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I draw strength from the words above, written in a different blog by me less than a month ago. I hold the knowledge I can be and I can do anything I put my mind to it. It is a knowledge I am determined to pass onto my son.

I have been re prioritizing much of the junk in my head lately. I have determined it is time to do what makes us (A and I ) happy. I have built a list of the little things that make our lives better. The ocean, once again, is the top of that list.

We had not been to the coast in a while. We had dropped our summer custom of driving there on a whim, running through the sand, falling in the waves, stopping at the Princeton Company for a cup of hot clam chowder and "camalari" (Lil A's favorite!), and then driving home, drenched, wind blown, the sea air and sand stuck in our hair, warmed up by the blankets in the car. The silence in the car as I navigate the windy HWY 92, reflects the sweet, satisfied sleep Lil'A usually melts into. We get home, drained, exhausted and completely satisfied.

Happiness is a dog on the beach; Chil playing 3.7.10

Saturday, almost as warm as a summer day, was the perfect opportunity to renew this summer ritual. We drove to Montara state beach, me, Lil'A and Chil (our dog). The anticipation grew as we got closer. The sun was out and the weather was truly perfect. Four hours flew by as if in a moment. We rolled in the sand, A wrote his name on the sand and watched the waves erase it, eliciting many giggles form him. Chil chased invisible toys along the sand, dog and ran and hopped like a bunny. I re-discovered how much I love photography.

Montara state beach is conveniently tucked away, making it rarely visited. Its serenity, wildness and moodiness overpower you in such a way the t you forget your daily worries and become a purely sensory being. The wind, the smell, the birds hanging in the air without movement held there just by the wind, the huge breath taking waves, the feeling as if you are completely alone there, make this spot so special!

My little guy 3.6.10

Our lease expires in November. I promised A and Chil (who panted, drooled and plopped down on seat in the car to nap, in approval) that we are moving to a little 2 br house in Montara at the end of this year. Knowing that it is possible gives me a feeling that i can only call pure elation!

Yesterday we went back. It was completely different. Windy, cold, cloudy, grumpy. We drove away after a few hours of running in the cold drizzle on the beach, my resolve to move there now strengthened. I have never found so much peace and purpose concentrated in once place.

Image taken by me 3.7.10, Montara State Beach

Destination: Known; Rout: Undetermined

2010-02-05T14:25:00.000-08:00

I have been so busy! Who knew that a puppy would be so much work? We have out first training session on Sunday with a trainer who came highly recommended. Link to follow the full report.
Pup is getting fixed in a couple of weeks too (God, please let that calm him down just a bit!). Meanwhile, the little potato we had less than 4 months ago is now a 50lb ball of muscled energy. I foresee myself looking for a single family home in November when my lease expires. My place is just too small for the three of us. Especially if the dog keeps going like this... I'll be lucky if he stays at 70-80 lbs when he is fully grown.. my guess is ... probably more. I love me a big hammy pooch!

In other news, I have been mulling over the concept of finding direction in life again. This meant re-evaluation my goals (I should say, re-establishing as I think I had lost complete sight of them till now). I had to sit down and seriously evaluate where I am now, and how I saw my future. I do not mean my personal situation as much as career wise. For once, I had to break out of the MOTHER box and think about ME.

I am a glorified secretary. Executive Assistant. Ha! I never intended to be that. Never thought in a million years when I graduated from my Ivy League school with my BA i would fall into this particular area of work. The thought of being 40, or 50 and still doing this, makes my head spin. It makes me dizzy, weak at the knees and utterly hopeless. I am so far from where I should be!

Of coarse, If i am to ever move forward I need to know where i should be. I need to establish a positive destination.

Thinking back on my loves, likes and dreams in college, I realize I cannot really align myself with them today. I am a very different person now. There is one thing only that persists. It is the fever, passion, love and need for interaction with all things African.

The happiest year in college was the year I finally managed to gather the courage to focus on something outside of what my parents had expected me to do. Post Colonial African Literature (for my English Major) and African Art (for my Art History Minor). That one year, while in Oxford, I was in education heaven, despite the fact that while I was supposed to be studying James Joyce (as my dad was led to believe), I was deeply immersed in Ngugi wa Thiong'o.

There was something about the fact that all of his books touched on the need for identity, the confusion of identity via colonialism and the loss and corruption of cultural identity that really resonated for me. These were themes that, although not of tribal background, and not necessarily affected by colonialism, I felt I was dealing with myself. Ngugi was but a gateway into a variety of deeply engaging, rarely studied in the west, African voices who kindled my passion for Africa even more.

So here I am, 10 years later, stumbling back and forth, wanting to find meaning and passion in my work life and a purpose to "skip to work". The closest I have come to that is indirectly. My company currently works to make a difference in many developing countries. India and more recently Africa (yes I know Africa is not a country! Identifying the region more narrowly would give up too much at this point).

I support people who are constantly traveling back and forth between these continents -- people who bring forward many fascinating ideas and solutions that are deeply needed to the issues. My only resentment about my job is that I want to be an active part of this, I want to be in the field seeing the need and knowing I am contributing to the solution, I want the high touch interaction. Living vicariously through the co-workers I support is just not enough for me.

Photo by my good friend Alexandra Huddleston

So here I am. Destination found, via business school. BUT, rout unclear. Sure I know the relevant steps. Study hard, take the MCAT, apply, and study, graduate, and then re-evaluate direction to destination. The map is clear. But how does one get there, when they are unable to walk? I have carried the books for the MCAT prep class in my bag for days. I keep wistfully pulling them out, petting them, craving the time to go through them. They are like a long distance lover. There, comforting, in my head, but far from tangible and reachable physically. After two weeks of planning to study, i have found a total of 30 minutes. That is ridiculous. And not for lack of trying.

So now I am mapping out the steps to learn to walk so I can start the journey to my destination.

Dog training, check. Adjusting kid/dog schedule. Getting kid to bed at a decent hour ( ahh here is the rub of it... If i can get this done, i can make 2 hours in my day. Good lord, that's a battle with the kid!).

Next steps, start seeing what my work network can accommodate for me in terms of getting more business experience. The loong trip ahead seems so glorious. Please think of me, and give me strength to take these first steps. Once I start walking, I can push through the obstacles in the way. It is the start, that defines the journey. As long a sI am sitting here, I am not going anywhere.

Busy times, happy times

2009-12-21T16:35:00.000-08:00

Life has been a bit crazy! With the kid, and the puppy and work semi annual project winding down, i have had little time to write. The project now over, Christmas looming around the corner, and almost 2 weeks off of work, I am feeling happy.

Christmas will be a my house this year. Just me, Li; A' and his dad. Most of my friends think it is weird that i let M so far into my life. Sometimes even I wonder if i am insane to do so. However, having mom and dad together over special holidays makes Lil' A so happy! So there.

All the Christmases during my marriage have been such a big deal. All of M's family and extended family, his mother cooking, in laws taking over the kitchen, it has all been overwhelming for me. A perfect Christmas for me is what my parents and I used to do. Cook a big fat steak, or Kuftete (Bulgarian meat patties fried and served with red onions, home made french fries (with crumbled feta on top) and all kinds of fatty, unhealthy fried things. Some surni (similar to Dolmas, but ground meat in cabbage leaves -- YUM!) as appetizer... ok wait.. I am hungry and got distracted...

I was saying that Christmas was always a nice rich meaty meal, with a bottle of wine, just immediate family, on the beach in Australia (where mom and dad live), or in the back yard, surrounded by various strays I adopted in Zimbabwe.... not much ado, presents optional, a Christmas tree - rare. Just sitting down, relaxing and preparing for the new year.

Well, with a 3 year old, that version of Christmas is practically impossible, but I am still having it on my terms. At home, in my cozy 680 sq ft apartment, with just Lil A and M. A and I got a Christmas tree and decorated it all in white and red. He picked out a cute candy cane ribbon that we put around it. Its perfectly understated and charming. Under the tree there are about 10 presents. One I gave myself (yay! I finally get something I want!), one for M, one for the puppy (hooray for naturally stuffed furry, squeaky toys), one for the kitty (A window sill bed! oh the joy and comfort!) and the rest for Lil A.

For food we are having New York steak, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted bell peppers, asparagus and broccoli and bacon salad. Dessert remains a mystery:P but I am sure I will get inspired. A nice bottle of wine to top it all off. Some Christmas jazz in the background and voila! A cozy Christmas. No big fiasco, no crazy relatives (aside from M! ha!) and a quick end to it all. I am tempted however to hire a Santa to stop by.

A has picked up the concept of Santa from somewhere... daycare perhaps. I know neither M nor I have encouraged that... so it would be nice to see his eyes when Santa shows up. Interestingly enough I was not able to find any Santa delivery services. Perhaps an interesting business venture to consider?

Oh, and a non sequitur, but I am growing more and more in love with our dog.

He is growing like crazy and is already about 40 lbs. He is such a smart boy and aside from the fact that he needs to constantly chew on something, he is a sweetheart.

I love all the loose skin he has that he needs to grow into. It folds around his shoulders and head. When he is trying to figure out what is going on, his floppy ears perk up and three wrinkles (they are the opposite of wrinkles, maybe more like folds of skin) appear on his forehead.

His lips droop well below his bottom jaw and he often looses treats in his mouth (usually later located by me as the fall out when he sleeps upside down, and his lips flop open).

He has the most soulful eyes. Always looking so sad, so experiences, so intelligent.

And, he needs to be next to me, no matter what. Needless to say, sleeping in his crate has been overturned and now, much to the chagrin of my cat, he spoons with me all night long.

I am crazy about the dog!

Time is never enough

2009-11-06T17:01:00.001-08:00

I feel like I never have enough time.

I keep thinking of some Success/motivation lecture I heard a long time ago (Was it Suze Orman?). To be successful, she said, one needs to be clean and organized. Wow! No wonder i feel like such a failure, I laughed back then. I am not laughing now.

Imagine this:

Main Ingredients: A 680 sq ft apartment. Me, 1 dog (a 11 week old puppy at that!), 1 cat (long haired) and an active 3.5 year old.

Now throw this in: 50 hrs a week of work, single mom, no support network, shortage of financial resources, and a pile of stuff I have nowhere to put after moving from a 1400 sq ft apartment.

For garnish add this: Me: Overweight, depressed, and demotivated.

And the cherry on the top: M took the vacuum when we separated, and I have never had the extra cash to purchase a new one! I borrowed the vacuum from work every other day! (thank goodness M gave me a new vacuum for my birthday -- I think he was getting tired of me trying to borrow his!)

What are the chances I can be clean and organized? I seem to battle these issues daily. And more and more I realize, the issue is not about cleaning as it is about a state of mind.

Here is the general cycle I see: I am depressed, I let things slide, I feel worse about letting things slide, I get overwhelmed at having to organize, I let things slide more, I feel guilty for being a better example to my kid, I feel more depressed, and then, like a lightening, the image of what my life SHOULD be like flashes before me, I spend a weekend cleaning, washing, mopping, wiping, and washing my carpets. I feel awesome, powerful, in control! I am happy. On Monday night my kid takes his toy box and pours it out on the living room floor. The living room is so small that it makes walking impossible. Exhausted from cleaning the last two days, I become depressed again, thinking that this cycle will never end. And it starts all over again!

So, to battle this, I have broken things down in small steps. Monday, putting clean laundry away. Tuesday, load of laundry, vacuum, wash dishes. Wednesday, clean out fridge, wipe and bleach bathroom and sinks, change sheets. Thursday, wash out balcony, laundry load. Friday, wash dishes and rest. Saturday, brush the cat, groom the dog, trim their nails as well as A's, vacuum, do weekly shopping. Sunday, wash dishes, vacuum, change sheets, wash clothing, clean car out, wash the balcony, bleach the bathroom and sinks.

Now, I feel a lot better about this, but man, I wish I could just come home one day, and do the Al Bundy (You know, Sit on the couch, feet on the table, turn on the telly, and rest with my hand in pants!). The image of me doing that cracks me up!

Anyway, buried in these details, along with eat, get ready,drive, work, cook, eat, shower, put kid to sleep, pass out, I think I am forgetting to think about the bigger picture. So here is a list of things I would eventually like to make happen:

I'd like to take A on several road trips. Show him the snow, Drive down Highway1 along the coast, take him camping.
I'd like to take A to meet my grandma in Bulgaria, who is getting up there in age and I have not seen since the mid 80's
I'd like a trip to Australia to see my mom and have her meet A too. I have not seen her since Sept. 99!
I'd like a trip as an adult. To Europe? Hell, even Vegas sounds appealing.
I'd like to volunteer for a non profit and help in a developing country.
I'd like to start writing again and finally fulfill the need to spill the book living in my head on paper!

I could keep going on. There are mountains I want to climb, Cities I want to see, people I want to meet, things I want to show and teach my child.

For now I am focusing on making life run smoothly. And, in those rare quiet moments, the household asleep, the house silent and dark, covered in my plush blanket, I dream of trips and worlds and miracles I'd like to see and live. I keep the faith that one day, soon, I will be able to begin a trip in my life that will take into account that bigger picture. As I fall asleep, I feel time ticking. Time, a friend and an enemy, goes too fast when you need more of it, and too slow when you don't.

A boy and his dog and a blast from the past

2009-11-03T10:52:00.000-08:00

A and the dog are getting along okay. I have to keep reminding myself not to give the dog too much attention. I have noticed that A gets whiny and naughty when I spend too much time with the dog.

Instead I am focusing on involving him more. We bought a clicker for training and I have A train the dog to sit with it. Too bad he enjoys clicking it so much, since it is not working too well with training that way.

I took A and the dog to the beach last weekend and let them play. It was a fun day for both and they both passed out in the car. A, I think, felt more bonded with the dog and his spirits have been up since then. It was a gorgeous day on the beach too.

When we got home that day, my facebook account held a surprise! An old, OLD schoolmate had found and posted a class picture of us, from Grade One, in 1985! I have long lost any pictures from any period in my life prior to coming here in the USA, so the joy I experienced was deep and the rush of emotion, at both how innocent we all look and how much we have all been trough really overwhelmed me.

What shocks me even more is that remember many of these faces and even some of the names. I seem happy in that picture, knowing little that not more than a year or two and we would be leaving the country never to come back again, and that it would take until now, 25 years later, to reconnect with some of those kids.

Mental note: I need to be better at recording A's life and socializing with the parents in his daycare. I want him to remember the friendships he builds.

Paying the price of kindness

2009-11-02T13:06:00.000-08:00

I have always believed the saying "what you saw is what you reap". I have tried to live my life with that assumption, and always try to approach the people around me with kindness and compassion. Most of the time my efforts go unacknowledged (which is okay with me). Where M is concerned, the currency for kindness seems to be stress, and humiliation.

I am starting to wonder is I am an all around pushover. I wonder if people read my compassion, my kindness and wish to help, as a weakness to be exploited. Why is it, that in most of the relationships I form in my life, I end up being taken for granted, walked all over, sucked dry, chewed up and spat out?

Honestly, I wish I knew how to be a mean, selfish, begrudging woman. My life would be significantly improved.

There is something in me that urges me to help when someone is in trouble. My friends say that it is the mother in me, but I was always like that, in college, in my teens, in my youth. So there is no surprise that despite everything M has done, despite the trouble he has been causing for me, when he needs help I offer.

Yesterday it was help in writing a practice essay for a placement test he is taking. I dropped everything I needed to do, drove over to his house, and tried to get him involved.

I helped him sketch an outline of his essay and the argument he is making. He kept getting distracted. It was obvious that, despite the inconvenience for me, he was not really set to do what was needed. I felt like he was wasting my time and good will. And then he got a phone call. "I'll be right back," he said and walked out of his apartment. Over an hour later, frustrated, I walked out and went home. He had still not returned.

This morning, I lent him my car since his was not working. I felt I had no choice since I wanted to make sure Lil' A is safe. He treated me in a way and spoke to me in a manner that left me feeling furious, humiliated and stupid for helping him.

Maybe this is it? Maybe this is happening in order for me to learn how to be a selfish? To teach me not to let anyone take advantage of me, to teach me that kindness does not pay.

Quitting bad habits

2009-10-28T16:33:00.000-07:00

I've had a lot of bad habits in my life.

I started smoking at 14 and have done so on and off since. I successfully hid that habit from M for most of our marriage (6 or 7 years?). That took a lot of effort on my part (and a lot of paranoia).

I did my fair share of exploration in college but settled primarily on the gateway drugs for about a year. Stopped that monkeying around (with some dramatic consequences - it is addictive!) as soon as I graduated.

Food: developed that addiction 4 years into my marriage with M, in order to battle my depression. M's religious beliefs included the one that depression is not a disease, it is a curse and thus needs to be treated spiritually, not medically. I did not share that opinion, and did not, do not , believe in the devil... So I swept it under the rug and covered it up in layers of ice cream, pastries, cakes, french fries etc.

Assholes: yep... If you ask me what my type is, the first thing that comes to mind: emotionally unavailable, narcissistic assholes. Bonus points if they are tall, dark and mysterious (mysterious = not a 100% involved/there). No wonder I have a hard time finding anyone attractive these days. Life has taught me that the ones I want are bad for me, and I still have not been able to walk away from that immediate attraction.

So here I am today: No drugs. I just quit smoking and feel great!(2 weeks today), and working on the food issues (that will be a long work in progress!). So how do I deal with the assholes?

Well, I could swear men off completely. I'd love to. The only problem is that I am... well... needy. Haha. Sorry for beating around the bush (no pun intended!). The eternal curse of HOPE is still upon me. One day, I hope to meet the right guy, one day I hope to be able to have a healthy relationship, one day I hope to be loved the way I deserve.

To get that, I need to break the asshole habit. How? I keep saying that if I ever find another partner he will need to be a friend and then a lover. The issue is that once I form a good friendship, I am no longer romantically interested. I know I am over thinking this, but in a way that is as close I can get to it.

You see, I have no free weekends, no kid free nights, really no adult time at all. The only break I get are the two Fridays a month, from 7 -10 p.m. Total of 6 hours a month. What are the chances of meeting someone new - none. It takes more than that to maintain even the semblance of a friendship with my existing friends, let alone meet someone new.

I don't know what is worse, being eternally alone and secluded, or happening to meet someone new and not being able to cultivate that friendship. So I grind my teeth and move forward.

I figure now is the time to focus on me. I can break the bad addictions I have now. I can focus on building good habits now. I can take the time to loose the depression weight now. Somehow, in my head, I think that life will sort itself out if I focus on doing right by me. And when it does, I hope I don't screw it up and I hope I break the asshole addiction.

Swine Flu Fears at Work

2009-10-26T14:26:00.000-07:00

I work in a wonderful company, with a great mission. I love my job.

One, and only one aspect that used to bother me was the impression that all of my coworkers were germ-a-phobes, and that whenever you happen to sneeze (god forbid it was an actual cough!) people would move away and tell you to go home.

Now, in the context of N1H1 I have started to appreciate the buckets of pocket sized hand sanitizer that sit on each counter, the plug in UV filters, and the fact that people go home BEFORE they actually look sick.

Despite all that we have had 3 confirmed cases of the N1H1. I glad that everyone will be okay, but concerned both about my kid and about the couple of co-workers who are expecting mothers.

Last night Lil A' came down with vomiting and upset tummy. It sounds like to rotovirus but I found myself Googling information in the N1H1 anyway.

I came across a great site where you can enter your symptoms and it will let you know how soon you need to see your doctor and if you may have the N1H1. Additionally it is great as you can print out the questionnaire and give it to your doctor.

Here is the link for everyone else worrying about this at the first sign of a fever/sore throat (insert whatever symptom comes to mind): https://h1n1.cloudapp.net/

The Joy of Puppy Breath

2009-10-26T14:11:00.000-07:00

I am not impulsive. I am a planner. My head is constantly swirling with plans for the rest of the day, plans for tomorrow, plans for the future. The must haves, the wants, the some days and the bucket lists (I must remember to share those one day).

More and more I have found it necessary to be more impulsive, and flexible about life. I think it is the nature of single parenthood. You just never know what is around the corner. And yet, I still struggle with feeling out of control when my life does not follow my plans.

But, here is one impulse I am so happy about:

Last Saturday, quite unexpectedly, I found myself the new owner of a gorgeous little (ok, he is HUGE for his age) 8 week old LabX puppy. Lil A immediately named him and the two have been inseparable. That evening I was in disbelief of my own impulse and shocked to have taken such a huge step that will affect our lives for the next decade, at least. But lil A's brimming joy was enough to put me at ease knowing i had done a good thing by him.

I have never shied away from responsibility, but I had forgotten how much work a puppy can be! He is adorable and so smart and has learned Sit and Down already (took him less than a day to figure it out). So there is the reason why I have neglected writing for a week. I have had my hands full, and have truly loved it.

The world is changing

2009-10-14T15:02:00.000-07:00

Photo borrowed from: Here

The world is changing.

Such a simple statement encompasses so much.

The world around me is changing: the weather, the economy, the environment, the workplace. My son is changing day to day, growing and viewing everything around him with new eyes. Politics and perceptions are changing. Fashion, pop trends, technology are all changing. The days of the tape (us oldies had music on those things) and the VHS are over.

And here I am, standing still, dizzy as the changes spin round and round me. I know I am supposed to move with them but I am frozen in awe, unable to move.

Today, I promised myself I am going to move forward. Aside for the fact that I need closure and an end to my marriage with M, I need to dig myself out this financial hole that seems to bring me down.

You see, I make a decent living. $88K a year should get me pretty far, but instead I am poorer then I was 10 years ago when I was but a waitress making $20K a year. I want to blame it all on M (The house I did not want to buy - foreclosed; the car I did not want to buy - upside down and owe 30K on it; the credit cards I warned him not to use; the IRS debt because he did not change his withholding after losing the house; the state tax debt; all of it), I know that although he was the one that wanted all of these things, I participated, even if through the fact that I did not stop it, in all of that spending. Here I am, carrying the burden of it.

My car registration is due in 2 weeks. It is almost $500. I am at a loss how I am going to make that happen. I have no emergency fund, I empty my accounts less than 3 days after every pay period. This is just not right. So, today is the day of change. Something needs to change, somehow.

M and I got into a discussion on divorce. As usual he thought he could manipulate the conversation. He wanted me to come by his house to see what the papers looked like. I told him I did not need to. I have had them sitting on my laptop for a year. He asked me if I wanted to file. Hell yeah! He insisted on asking again. Yes, I am 100% sure. I can't afford to do it now, but can file by November. At this point I still read his line of questioning as a sign he was finally on board with doing this. Sadly I was wrong.

A while into the conversation I realize that he wanted me to look at the papers thinking it would dissuade me. The finality of it. The legality of it. I found myself re living the same conversation (different topic) as before: Telling him plain and simple what I wanted and him not accepting it. I must have said I want to end this nightmare a few times. I know I said I want a divorce at least 20 times. And still he pushed on.

He asked me to wait.
How long? I wondered out loud.
A few years, he had the nerve to say. I can prove to you I can be a good friend.
What does friendship have to do with staying married?

That is when he made it clear: He can only be my friend and cordial and communicate with me if the chance that we can get together is there. A chance I am not willing to offer.

I tried to tell him the two have nothing in common, and that, if he wanted my friendship, it is that very chance I needed to close, before i could let him in even a little bit. It is the very thought that if I were to invite him to join us for dinner, for example, he would (and has in the past) take it as a sign that I am open to letting him back into my life, that stops me from offereing him my friendship. I am not willing to lead him on into his hope, in the name of friendship. I will never be with him again.

The finality of these types of statements don't seem to phase him. Instead he urges on, as if I had conceded.

Initially I told him I would file by November 30th. Somehow he managed to push back enough where I found myself giving him till February. I kicked myself for doing that, as in that very act I know I gave him the strength to push more. I know come January he will be back into asking me to postpone.

2 days later he announced to me that he is getting a second job during the days that he cares for Lil' A. He says that he will take Lil A the night before and return him at the end of the next day, while leaving him in the care of my sister in law during the day. I panicked. You see, I am a working mom and the only times during the work week I have with my child are the evenings. I am not willing to give up 10 evenings a month in order for my son to be cared for by a distant relative.

To top it off, M also informed me that he will be going to school full time and working full time starting January. That means he will no longer care for Lil' A the 10 week-days a month he has until now. He 'graciously' offered me $250 a month towards A's pre-school costs.

I am starting to wonder if M has some mental disease, some disconnect with reality. I have a hard time believing that anyone who asserts himself as a caring, loving father, as a man who supposedly wishes to get his wife back, can be so downright selfish. Perhaps that is why he needs me back. So he can use me as a fluffy carpet to walk on when his toes are cold.

So there, change is gonna happen and I can sit there stunned and let the world whirl by me, or I can be more active and involved in the change itself.

I have lived my life with the idea that every person is good and that what you dish out is what you get back. And yet, those who are closest to me, or were, have proven that thinking to be wrong.

My coworker told me it is time for me to be selfish and do what is right for me. I have spent every moment of my life giving to others, supporting, listening, compromising. I don't know how to be selfish, I don't want to and don't know how to stomp on others to get what I need. And yet, come January I have to. I have to change.

Resolutions

2009-10-07T13:40:00.000-07:00

Photo borrowed from: Here

On this day, 32 years ago, I was born. I don't really remember most of my birthdays. I do remember my 5th at my grandma's house. A huge group of kids and family and every single present i got was a book. The one thing I really wanted , a barbie, was only reserved for the privileged few kids in Bulgaria who had connections to the west. My family was not one of them. That birthday remains memorable and I can piece it together from beginning to end.

The next birthday I remember was in 1997. It fell in the begining of the first quarter and I had assumed few friends would remember. I scheduled my wisdom teeth extraction on that morning and rode my bike to and from the dentist's office. On arrival back in my dorm I was greeted by the loud "SURPRISE!" complete with champagne and strawberries. Most of those friends are now spread throughout the US and out of touch. And yet, I treasure that memory.

In 2002, M took me to the Carnelian room and presented me with a brown purse and matching boots in a Wilson Leather box. Earlier that morning he had, for the first time, called and spend an hour on the phone with his co-worker and the first woman to over-shadow us, since we had gotten married. I had told him, before he called her, that that was going to be the beginning of something bad for our relationship. A premonition that proved to be true.

Just like M's love for me, the boots and purse were but wrapped in the expensive box. My friend, a week later had purchased the same pair and bag from Payless shoes.

The following years were but a blur of restaurants and aplomb, while i sat quietly, grinding my teeth, irritated by the pretense, frustrated by the denials, annoyed by the gestures that proved my husband a hypocrite.

Today, I forgot it was my birthday as did my two closest friends. My Facebook page reminded me, with an out pour of support and good wishes from folks i have not seen in over 15 years, friends from my kindergarten days (25 years ago!), and e-friends from various pet and parenting online groups. My father emailed me a brief HBD, and all the best. A gesture, I suppose, intended to shame me for not doing the same for his.

So here I am, wondering what next, where to and why? Looking back I realize I have always been lucky to have good friends, and always unlucky to not have been able to keep them with me, near me. Perhaps I should focus on being better about keeping in touch, about being more dedicated to making a real connection with people, about not being alone.

Regardless, this day is one I have dreaded since my teenage years, and in moments of deep depression it has been a day i have cursed many a time. My Birthday resolution, this year, is that going forward, my birthdays will be joyous, and filled with good friends. No more staying home alone, no more pretending this is something bad, no more feeling like there is nothing there to celebrate.

Going forward, I resolve, to never find myself as I do today: ALONE (capitalized!), insignificant, forgotten by all, even me.

Hostile-Agressive Parenting

2009-10-05T16:34:00.000-07:00

Photo Borrowed form: HERE

Real life has a way of overpowering any of this. And it has again. After spending a week out of work suffering from the worst flu ever, i have had one heck of a terrible weekend. And the nightmare seems to have just started. M is on a rage bender and I am the primary target. Its all passive aggressive in its exhibition which makes it all the more subtle and hard to document. Once i can calm down and be objective i will post the situation. Right now, my head is spinning and I am vacillating between fear and need for action.

I found a site that defines most of what is going on.

http://www.canadacourtwatch.com/fjrc/hostileparenting.html

I had never heard of HAP (Hostile-Aggressive Parenting), but my situation fits with 85% of the examples given. Too bad the CA court system does not recognize HAP (a leading cause of Parental Alienation Syndrome in kids). And, from personal experience, the non-custodial parent (as in my case) can be the aggressor as much as the other.

I am at a loss of how to proceed. Things are hellish right now. One thing I am certain of... I need to file for divorce ASAP so as to get a proper custodial order. God.. I need a $$ miracle!

9-26-2009 Free Museum Day 2009

2009-09-25T17:01:00.000-07:00

Its Museum Free Day at any Smithsonian affiliated museum tomorrow. All you need to do is visit the links below, print a free day pass and go (valid for you and a guest). The link will also show you what museums this is valid for in your area!

Have fun with your kids!

http://microsite.smithsonianmag.com/museumday/about.html

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/museumday/museum-search/?state=California

Fear

2009-09-25T16:38:00.000-07:00

Photo borrowed from: HERE

I am paralyzed with fear. Fear of change, fear of M's immaturity, just fear. I have no other excuse for not having filed for divorce after 3 years. After all, reconciliation was something I never wanted. And now, with M filled with anger, irrational and on the path of war, the fear is overwhelming. Life CAN get harder. Life WILL get harder.

I am seriously looking at filing my divorce papers by the end of the year.

Having taken on so many of our joint obligations i am really strapped for cash. There are other issues/considerations too. Regardless, I am trying to evaluate if, as an ex litigation paralegal, I should go pro per, or if I should look for an attorney.

Ahhh. The fear. I have spent my life trying to be always fair to those around me. Now, I am faced with a possible irrational adversary. I am scared!

On a much more short term basis: I dread picking up and dropping of lil' A right now. I leave to get him in 30 mins. My chest is so tight at the prospect of dealing with M, I could pass out.

A weekend with lil' A will fix it all!

"I have him"

2009-09-24T14:09:00.000-07:00

Photo borrowed from: Here

I have been struggling with lil' A. Its been getting worse for the last few months. At daddy's house he is a little soldier, which makes activities all the more enjoyable. He is also with dad 3 days a week 9-5. The other weekdays he is at daycare. That leaves me with the hard parts of the day: dinner, bath and sleep. Not much time to do much more. I always plan a special trip for us on the weekend, but it is just not enough.

M and I had been working on our 'friendship' until it all fell apart last weekend (again!). I had made the mistake of telling M how much I am struggling as a parent and was not sure how to handle it. M's version of support was to insert himself in every situation. If I tell him lil' A is not behaving he would show up at my house to give him a time out?! What ended up happening is lil' A would purposefully be naughty so his daddy would come over.

can't get this song out of my head

Yesterday, in the heat of another argument with M, in which I told him I was not comfortable with his definition of friendship, he threw at me vengefully: "At least I HAVE him!" nodding in lil' A's direction. The way it was said was more like, at least I have taken possession of him, at least I know he likes me best. What hurts the most is that I believe that. I know the time I spend with lil' A is not as entertaining. I know dad buys him all the cool toys and treats (I can't afford to do that since I am the one paying most of daddy's debts!)

The way M said it, killed me. It made my heart stumble and my stomach turn. In that very statement I read an overt threat to take my son from me (sooner or later). I had to walk out. I was scared of the response that comment brought up in me.

I have been up all night thinking about it. How do I make the little time I have with lil' A, better. How do I 'compete' with the expensive toys, with the manipulator's days, how do I fight for my son's love?

A better place now

2009-09-23T18:18:00.000-07:00

When M and I first separated I was in a bad place. I had spent the last 6-7 years giving everything I had. Due to the cyclical nature of his affairs (emotional only supposedly! That's worse!) there was only about 2-3 months a year without the shadow of someone else hanging over our relationship. Who it was, was besides the point. The women changed every few months, whatever the hottest bread of the day was. The issue for me was that there was never the acknowledgment that what he was doing was wrong. I had never been more alone, than when I was in that relationship. It was exasperating to feel abandoned, and yet to be unable to move past or walk away.

After I had lil' A I realized that I had mistaken all the pain I had been in for a symptom of love. If I hurt so bad it must mean I love M so much! Lil' A changed all that. Suddenly I realized life will and has to move forward, with or without M. I realized that the pain was not love. I realized that no matter what, I will go on, I will be okay as long as lil' A was okay.

That last affair M had, I took a different approach. Instead of questioning M about the calls, the evenings away from me and lil' A and the money spent in places he has not been to, I pretended I had no clue, I pretended I was as stupid as he had treated me throughout our marriage. Meanwhile I collected data. Dates and times, copies of phone records, emails, text messages, even pictures from her myspace page. A docier on one of many emotional affairs. One day, I snapped. Out I told M, out! Out of the house we purchased we could not afford, out of my life, out of the deceit. After throwing the evidence in his face, he could no longer deny it.

Suddenly I was completely alone, with a 6 month old infant. And yet, I did not feel alone at that time and still don't now, compared to those years, trapped in an un-reciprocated marriage. I picked up some old hobbies to keep me occupied. Painting was one of them. My first painting was so liberating. So filled with anger, so filled with hope.

Two years later and W, a new friend, told me, "Wow! Look at that painting! I would kill of something like that in my office. Where did you buy it?" What I like about W is that he is somewhat intuitive. It surprised me when he commented on how angry yet peaceful it was. Later that night, I sat amazed. M had hated all my work. He had never bothered to even comment on it. On this particular painting the only thing he said was, "Weird!"

And there was this man, W, who suddenly showed me that what I had wanted from M for so many years actually existed. In so many ways, W renewed my faith in the fact that there are people, men, out there that are good.

Three months later it was W's birthday and a particularly difficult month in terms of finances. I decided to paint him a painting. I used the same color scheme as the original and channeled my energy into our friendship as I painted. When W looked at it he was silent for a long time.

I was so worried he did not like it.

I squirmed and was uncomfortable.

Eventually I spoke, "You can have the other one if you don't like this one!"

"No!" he said, "I love it. I love that you are in such a better place now. I love the joy, the playfulness. It only makes me sad to see how much pain you had compared to this."

And it was true. I am hurting now. Hurting with the questions of existence, of sustenance, of self. These are but toys to tinker with, compared to the hurt, the pain and the darkness that was surrounding me before.

I am in a good place now. I am at the beginning of an open road, and the future is unwritten.

Pushing Forward

2009-09-23T16:12:00.000-07:00

Mother and Child, by Boris Novak, borrowed from: Here

As a single mom i don't have the luxury to wallow. I need to, and have to, push forward no matter what the circumstances.

We lost two of our three cats last week. The older, a mean, cranky man, who only tolerated me, and was the passive king of the house, had been with me since college. He was going to turn 10 in November. The gray, little princes was 7 and she was lil' A's cat. She adored him and insisted on guarding him all night, and followed him everywhere he went. Whenever he cried she would rush to him, bristled up and prepared to fight off whatever is bothering him. They died suddenly, unexpectedly, and 3 days apart.

They defined an era in my life. I got the old guy but a few months after college. He was there for me through my marriage and separation and offered me comfort I could not draw from anywhere else. The princess, adaptable, and the alpha, was the first pet lil' A would truly bond with.

I have not had time to cry, to mourn, to fall apart. The circumstances were terrible, gruesome, and sadly, I had to keep it together for my little boy. Every morning when he wakes up he searches for his little kitty. Every night when I go to sleep, I feel the empty spot on my legs where my old man cat would sleep at night. How do you explain death to someone who lives almost entirely in the moment? How do I tell lil' A that they are not coming back?

Pushing though all this, I have to put on a brave face. I have to be able to go out and play soccer, to giggle and wrestle, to give him the feeling of security, to make him feel everything is going to be okay.

Meanwhile, he is challenging me at every chance he gets. His sense of identity, much like mine, kicking into gear. The 'I don't want to' stage is kicking my butt. The changes at home, the cats passing, communication deteriorating with M, all contribute to his behavior.

Yesterday, I had planned a wonderful evening for us. It started as planned, a hour at the park playing soccer, followed by dinner. At dinner everything deteriorated.

"I don't want to!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Squirming so as not to pee himself he refused to use the potty. Time out, soon turned into a major tantrum. Eventually, sitting on the floor with lil' A in my lap, rocking back and forth, while he cried into my neck, he looked up and told me "Momma, I want to make you cry. I want to make you mad, because I am sad."

This took me unawares. Usually the I don't want to's tend to exasperate me, make me mad and grumpy. This was one of the times I refused to let him get to me (or at least appeared so). His statement shook me up a bit.

"Why are you sad, baby?" I asked him.

"Because I don't want to be a good boy. Because I don't want to listen to mama." The bare honesty in a 3 year olds innocent face made this statement even more poignant.

"Baby, I love you no matter what. I love you when you are sad, and I love you when you are a bad boy and nothing can change that." Somehow he did not like that answer.

I went on cautiously: "You can be a bad boy if you want to. But then you have to be in time out and be sad. Or you can be a good boy and both you and mama will be happy and we will play with your new toys and draw like I promised you." He looked at me hopeful.

"I'll be a good boy mama. Lets be happy." Yet he still refused to go potty despite his squirming getting more and more urgent.

"Baby, I gotta go peepee." I told him, realizing it was time to get creative, "But I don't know how. Can you show me?" He looked at me amused, and walked into the bathroom. As soon as he flushed and washed his hands he ran up to me:

"Mama, I am a good boy now!"

Patience was something i never had. Its something I am learning to be better at. I want my little boy to grow up to be a good, caring person. I know these moments of testing limits, and how I deal with them, are part of how he forms his understanding of the world, of rules, of the power balance in a family. And yet, sometimes it feels like I am breaking his little, obstinate, spirit. And other times, it feels like his is breaking me.

One thing I know, he is teaching me things that only he can. Patience, love in the face of blatant obstinacy, pushing through and looking forward. I have never loved anyone enough to be able to learn these lessons with them, until now.

Then I stop and think: I am truly blessed.

Photo borrowed from: Here

Dreams

2009-09-22T11:56:00.000-07:00

Photo borrowed from: Here

I used to have a lot of dreams. I dreamt of fame. In a small way, i had it on the runways of Asia. I dreamt of college, and did it, going to an Ivy League university. I dreamt of being an artist, I dreamt of being a photographer (does a failed wedding photography business count?).

I always dreamt of having a life partner. I lover, a friend, an equal. Marriage, kids, the white picket fence and house to go with it... those i did not care for much. A soul mate was what i spent my life craving.

I am still looking for that, but jaded, wondering if such a thing exists. I pride myself on being a pragmatic woman, but deep inside, i crave and want to believe in romance, but even more importantly I still believe, in spite of experience, in love.

I read about 'The Secret' on another blogger's page, and suddenly realized that my day to day existence did not help me in getting out of this hole i have been digging for the last 10 years. I had to visualize. I had to know what i was looking for.

And there comes the complexity of the issue. When I was younger, i definitely had a 'type' that I can easily visualize. Tall, dark, strikingly handsome, and definitely ethnically (and racially) diverse from myself. My parents, especially daddy dearest, had hoped that was a phase. Despite their self proclaimed liberal intellectualism, their fear of the unknown was much greater. Race, and that which looked different was not acceptable.

Glossing over the misery of my teenage years, and confusion at college (controlled remotely like a puppet, yet rebelling whenever I could), I came to the place where M and I were engaged. I had tried so many times to tell my parents over the phone, but was promptly cut off and shut down.

Photo borrowed from : Here

In March, we got married. In May my father called me to tell me i have been gone too long. They are buying me a ticket to go home. I tried to tell him I can't but he was not interested. I am married! I finally blurted out. Without a moment of hesitation, he shot out his pressing question: What color is he? I refused to dignify that question with an answer. It was another 6 years before we spoke again, after the birth of my son, whose pictures proved that my husband was not black, although he certainly must have had dark features. Where did that dark hair come from? And those huge, black, watery, loving eyes?

I wish that were the end of that story. A familial reconciliation over the miracle of a child born. There is too much mud to waddle through to be able to reconcile.

It was but another year, upon the discovery of my father's late stage cancer, and his refusal to undergo conventional treatment, that my mother told me about the book. The life work my daddy dearest had spent his days and partly nights (when he was not skulking in the hallway around my bedroom, or sneaking around my school, some 20 miles away from home, at recess) was now live online. Why, oh why did i read the thinly veiled biography and journal of my youthful tortures?

Going back to my 'type'. Combine the familial attitudes, and my ex's inherent racism, my age and general white collar environment, and I am battling with myself over this.
I sit in a restaurant as a gorgeous, black man walks in, and I instinctively look over, my stomach crunches, I hold my breath. And then, after years of training, I force myself to look away and push away the obvious attraction, not even daring to acknowledge it.

Yet, now, that I am single, I know some things that are important to me in a partner (of any color): loving, honest communication; maturity; being in a good place in life; secure and stable; equally educated.

Have I narrowed the pool down enough?

And then the question looms: Am I even ready or able to have a relationship now?

Here is my daily schedule:
Wake up
Feed the little guy, A
Drive him to day care or dad's house
Work
Pick A up
Cook dinner
Shower
Play with A
Go to bed.

Good Lord! Its a miracle anything gets done at all. At this point, after having to fight for this tooth and nail, i get TWO Fridays a month where A is with M overnight. No, not two weekends a month. TWO Fri evenings. Pick A up again Sat am. God forbid i actually have some time to be an adult, to be an individual, to be anything else but mom.

I love lil A so much, but M goes out of his way to make me feel like a bad mom for wanting time to myself. I have met others, who assume that as a single mother, i have no right to think, to want anything for myself. That just makes me mad. Very mad.

I am lost

2009-09-21T11:25:00.000-07:00

Photo borrowed from: Here

So here I am. An identity crisis at hand. Muddled are the waters in which i swim, dark and cloudy. I know the sharks are there, but can not see them. I suspect this fear and confusion are fueled by the fact that i am uncertain of the future, lost in direction and generally in turmoil.

I dream of finding a partner and a soul mate but wonder if my last relationship was damaging enough to make it impossible for me to have one?

I feel so tightly wound up and unable to relax and let go and be me (who is that?). I have spent the last 8-9 years being miserable and I wonder if i remember how to be happy, how to flirt, how to have fun? More importantly, how to have a healthy relationship? I know that one can not have any kind of relationship unless they know who they are and where they are going. Alas, i cycle through knowing who I am and questioning myself or, as in the present moment, being completely lost. It does not help that i have no immediate support network to lean on, that i am battling depression, that i a financially screwed coming out of this marriage, and that i have not as of yet filed for divorce. I am literally living day to day (and on rough days moment to moment), and being completely alone (aside form my gorgeous little angel of a kid), the very thought of the future is exhausting to me.

Then there are moments of such distinct clarity. I see me as the woman I was 10 years ago, joyful, confident, attractive, impulsive and a lot less concerned with the internal workings of my emotions and mind. I used to have such faith in myself and my abilities!

So how does one go on a voyage of self discovery while still being a good mom, a good employee, a good person? How does one with no support find the time to discover themselves?

Perhaps these questions are pointless. Then again, I am 31. I would hate to spend the rest of my life stumbling in the dark, swimming aimlessly in the cloudy waters, being lost.

Today is the day

2008-09-09T16:27:00.000-07:00

me 1996

With positive change comes the desire for self betterment. Today is the day i am committing to making positive life changes.

Although this is supposed to document both the past and the present along with progress of goals in terms of my weight, i suppose the reality is that to do that in a complete and simple manner one would have to document general life outlook, stress, health, exercise, food, and life choices.

And thus begins the blog about me. A memoir of who I used to be and how i got here along with a commitment to a journey towards where i wish to go and how i wish to live.

The Past

Well, one always wonders where to start. I guess the real beginning would be the actual beginning. I was born in 1977 in Bulgaria to a politically dissatisfied father and a stable, passive mother. As most in those days we were the working poor. I still remember that red meat was a rare delicacy my grandmother would prepare for us when we visited her. Visiting her, became a thing to look forward to and happened morewand more, until i found myself practically living with her in the early and mid 80's. I do remember food being rather scarce in my mothers house and even, when my parents decided to purchase a car, i remember weeks of eating stew made of the leaves of radish bunches.. along with.. you guessed it, radish salad. Well... I suppose my love affair with food started early as i savored any tidbits that were thrown my way by relatives and friends.

I spent more and more time with my grandmother as my parents sought ways of exiting the country, traveling to the US to seek jobs (pointlessly). During those times I was spoilt with various Bulgarian culinary delicasies and generally enjoyed my grandmother's cooking.

Back in those days i had formed into a cute little penguin child with rosy round cheeks and a chubby disposition. In the late 80's my father had found an exit strategy and we found ourselves in the gorgeous bread basket (no more!) of Africa. The warmth, physically and emotionally, of Zimbabwe swallowed me whole and i embraced it as my own.

Unknowingly i fell in love with the continent and it in turn infected me with a passion i carry with me even now. I melancholy craving of things past (and sadly now gone) and a constant loop into memory lane. In Harare, i spent 4 idyllic years, the closest i have ever come to paradise. Food, no longer a focal point for me, was but an after thought. I vaguely remember weeks of sadza and kiwi, and the occasional banana cake, and i am sure these are but signs that our intellectual excursion to Africa did not benefit our finances much.

In those four years i transformed form a penguin into a giraffe... ha ha. After i graduated from Groombridge primary we spent several months in New York visiting our 'beloved' aunt (tongue in cheek on this one). From the hot African summer to the freezing Christmas in Queens. I am not sure what the real purpose of that trip was, I suppose to submit emigrant applications for Australia away from the watchful eyes of the Bulgarian secret service members ingrained in our expatriate community in Zim. To me it was just a strange vacation of Crescent croissants and Cops on TV.

It was when we returned to the sunny homeland and I started school (mid year???) at Vainona High in Borrowdale, that the penguin had become a giraffe. Somehow i had sprung up and thinned out.

In the very early 90's we flew to Sydney, now officially residents of Australia. That became a time of frustration and confusion for me. I had not realized i had become a pretty tall little lady by then, but my parents had. As Eastern European as they can get, they stood guard and let few people into my life. Suddenly, with the flight from Africa to Sydney, i had transformed form a wild, and free spirit to a homebound captive. This was accentuated by the suggestion that i should model, an idea my daddy dearest came up with from who knows where.

The years of my puberty were but a blur of strict, paranoid parental supervision, juxtaposed with the loose and wild model lifestyle, and a concurrent race of various fad diets due to my baby fat. Although i have plenty of pictures form those days i will gloss over them as but a sideshow of the nightmarish period of my life where i questioned my self, my identity and my right to be an individual. Questions that still haunt me.