Who am I? What am I?

My dearest friend,

I have written volumes about what our friendship means to me and where I would be if we'd never met.  I feel like I owe you a debt that can never be repaid.  But …..

Something has happened.  I have theories, but they all make me sad.  I just need to know the truth. Where to begin, or rather, where to begin without babbling incoherently.

We always said that our friendship was not based on the chorus and if it were to disappear, we would not be affected because we have so many other similar interests.  Then I retired from the Board.  You stopped communicating to me about anything chorus-related unless I initiated the discussion or you wanted a favor from me.  Turns out a lot of our conversations used to be about the chorus.  Many more than I realized until those conversations stopped.

My mental stability - or lack thereof - used to be a frequent topic of conversation.  When I finally got help and started taking an antidepressant, things leveled off.  I stopped having fits of anger and bouts of the blues.  I feel incredibly lucky.  My days and nights are calm.  Things that used to make me nuts have little effect on me these days.  But.... where is my friend, my "therapist", my sounding board, my rock?  I have not stopped wanting you in my life as my best friend simply because I don't have to lean on you like some psychotic basket case.

The "Wall".  A few years ago, your family was in crisis.  Your granddaughter was hospitalized with an undiagnosed and scary illness.  Being that we were best friends, my instinct was to help in any way possible.  But it was like a wall had been pulled down around all of you.  The rest of the, world, myself included, were on the outside and there was no looking in.  I was frozen out for months.  I did my best to understand and try not to focus on myself, but I was still in the grip of my emotional instability and complete lack of self esteem.  Those months seemed like an eternity.  Last year I finally tried to discuss it with you.  You told me that you'd blocked that year out.  We were interrupted, you said we needed to finish the talk another time, soon.  It never happened.  Now your husband has had a health scare.  I love your husband, I care about his health.  But the Wall is up again.  I'm not totally inexperienced.  When your spouse,  a man in his late 30's, is diagnosed with atrial fibrillation and the experts don't know how to treat him "because of his age" and nothing they try works, you get a little worried.   I remember being so grateful that I had a friend at work that was willing to allow me to unload on her.  You internalize things and are a private person. I get that. But I'm your best friend, aren't I?  There was a time in our history when you did literally cry on my shoulder.  I'm trying to understand, but I'm not having a lot of success.

Back to the truth.  What happened to us?  Is it that I'm not on the Board anymore?  Has my mental stability made me uninteresting?  Has it taken me off your priority list?  I'm ashamed to admit that a few years ago, I might have manufactured an "emergency" in order to get your attention.  Right now, I guess I like myself too much to stoop that low.

How does all of this make me feel?  Well, I feel like a toy that you keep on a shelf in the closet and bring out when you have that rare few hours of down time that you need to fill with something.  I love being an "Aunt" to your grandchildren and wouldn't trade it for anything, but family parties can't take the place of lunches, coffee or movies.   We can't talk at a birthday party the way we can when we're alone.  I feel like it's all about what's important to you.  In your brilliant, compartmentalized brain, where am I?  Am I in a compartment in the way back corner?  Or have I been purged altogether?

I just want to know the truth.  Maybe you don't even know it yourself.  I'm holding on to the belief that this is all coming from your subconscious and you don't realize any of this.  But really... I want the real truth.  Am I really your best friend still?   Or am I now one of those friends that you have to remember to get together with occasionally so that we can "get coffee and catch up"?   If that's what it is now, I'd rather just know and deal with it.

But, I just really hope that it's not.  That's all.

Love you always, no matter what.

TR

Catching Up

Hey!  Wow, it's been a while, right?  What can I say, when you get the urge to blog , you need to follow it.

A lot has changed since my last post, but in some ways, nothing has changed. That's why I'm at this place here..  I've lost the emotional anxiety that made me so needy and moody.  It was and still is such a relief.  The funny (or not so funny) thing is that there are still times that people are afraid to tell me things that they think will set me off.  When that happens, I think "man, why did anyone want anything to do with me?"

I shed my routine of some long-standing responsibilities that had become painful baggage. I took some serious me time for about six months and decided to challenge myself vocally by joining a philhamonic chorus.

I guess I thought I had things all figured out finally.  Well, you know, all actions have consequences.  I've been taking an antidepressant for going on two years, and there are times when I feel like whatever spark I had to my personality has vanished.  I've written pages and pages about my lack of friendships and lack of social life.  I guess I assumed that my moodiness and anxiety were such major turn-offs that the "new me" would be able to  at least improve my social  issues a teeny bit.  I was wrong.  Now, not only do I have no social life, I am also extremely conflicted about whether or not I even give a damn.  My motivation to do something about it is pretty much nonexistent because if I'm still not interesting enough for people to notice, what more can I possibly do?

Up to now, I've been ok.  But recently I started having strange, disturbing dreams.  A lot of them were so nonsensical that I couldn't describe them to anyone.  Then I had one about my job.  It was bizarre, but it also felt like my subconscious was questioning my career choices and this was its way of making me doubt myself.

Today was a banner day for mental health.  I woke up from a dream in which someone I love dearly had passed away, and I was trying to figure out how I wabs going to get through the rest of my life without this person..  I awoke with a sick, nauseated feeling in my stomach and an ache in my heart.  I had to lay in bed for 10 minutes just trying to recover and convince myself that it wasn't real.  Later today, I had just about recovered when I once again viewed photos on Facebook taken at a party at which I hadn't been invited.  Once again, this was a party that I shouldn't be upset or offended about, a party for someone that I know pretty well and have known for many years but not someone that I was super close with.  But.... given the other attendees.... and given the dozens of similar soirees I've viewed post-celebre, it felt like a stab.  It shouldn't have...which made me feel stupid and childish....but it did
.
I guess I need to come to terms with the fact that I will never be the belle of the ball.  One of my fears has always been that I would die friendless like my mother.  At this point, it is very likely that this will be my reality.   I am reminded of an episode of Sex and the City where Charlotte dates a man who takes antidepressants that have made him impotent.   When she asks him if he would ever consider not taking them for a while so that they could have sex, he answers in the negative.  For him, the cure is worth the side effect.  Needless to say, it wasn't for her.  LOL.   I couldn't cultivate a social life when I was a higher-energy, sparky moody rollercoaster, and I can't cultivate a social life now that I'm calm and thoughtful.  At least I'm not having anxiety attacks and meltdowns over the situation.   The dreams need to stop, though.  I'm almost afraid to close my eyes tonight.

I don't think I'll ever stop wondering though..... do we really have ultimate control over our true reality?

To Drug or Not to Drug

Ten months ago, I finally decided that I'd had enough of the emotional ups and downs of my daily life.   I was tired of having even the slightest disappointment send me into tears and depression.  I was tired of my husband manipulating me like a yo-yo.   I could tell myself a million times that he wasn't any more in control than I was, but it didn't save me from these episodes that washed over me without warning at any time of the day.

I don't remember what finally made me take action, but I found myself whispering into my cell phone at work to my doctor that I needed help ... soon.   I was initially prescribed a daily dose of 10mg of Lexapro.   Three weeks into the regime, I began to feel a real difference, a calm.  I felt much more rational and in control.   Still,  the emotional episodes continued - although much less frequently. After two visits to a therapist, we agreed to up my dosage to 20mg a day of Lexapro.

Now life got reeeeeallllly calm.    I had to be careful not to take it too close to bedtime or  I would be practically comatose when the alarm went off the next morning.   Eventually, my body adjusted.  This seemed like a miracle pill.   Literally nothing phased me.   I had been struggling to see my future.   Unsure of the state of my marriage and with our only child living on the other side of the state, the second half of my life stretched ahead of me like an empty void.   Now I could calmly analyze the things in my life that weren't working and decide on an action.   I switched jobs, switched church choirs and took a leave from my other chorus.

With all of these positive changes accomplished, I should be feeling terrific, right?  Not so fast.  Suddenly, I feel too calm.   Things that used to move me no longer do.   It seems that the happy, "good" emotions are just as quick to vanish as the bad ones.   I retired from the Board of my chorus after serving for 14 years of the good, the bad and the ugly.  I was walking away from the thing that brought my best friend into my life.   I expected to be in tears when the end came.   So, I wouldn't go as far as to say that I felt nothing, but I just couldn't muster up the feelings that I should have been feeling.  I can't even think of the words to describe my feelings - relief, mostly, that the season was over.   The idea that I wasn't more moved was disturbing to me.  I started having doubts about my miracle pill.

10mg.... 20mg........    how about 15mg?   I dug up my handy dandy little pill cutter and went to work.  Should I have called my therapist?  Probably, but I'm guessing she would have told me to try exactly what I was doing first before making any prescription changes.    I noticed a different about a week after making the change.  Someone at my new job told me about some tragedies that had happened to her in the past year, and I actually felt tears welling up in my eyes.   Not the uncontrollable ones that would have run down my face pre-Lexapro, just some welcome wetness.   Thank God!   My libido resurfaced (another Thank God!).  

Not so fast..... there's ALWAYS a down side.   Someone forgot to remind my brain that I was living with the emotional equivalent of a hormonal teenager.  Someone forgot to remind my brain that my best friend is one of the most un-retired retired people on earth who also happens to be 20 years older than me.     When I was taking 20mg of Lexapro, being alone didn't seem so bad.    I could hang with the cats all day, all weekend and be perfectly fine.

So now the dilemma.   Face my demons and hope that 15mg helps me figure out a real solution?  Or jump back to 20mg so that  I don't have to face the fact that I am a #1 priority for absolutely nobody within a 500 mile radius of me.    I'm tired of playing second fiddle to a car.   It seems I'm the right model year for my spouse...now if only I had 4 wheels instead of 2 feet.    As for my best friend...her priorities are in line - home and family first.   We established a while ago that I am a high maintenance friend, which explains a lot of why she's the only one I've got.

Maybe I need to go back to the therapist.  I need to do some thinking, I guess.   One thing I know for sure.   Nothing is ever as easy as it looks at first.   And happiness can't be found in a pill.

Life in the Other World

"Hi there!  How was your day, today?"

"Well, Mom, you won't believe this, but __________."
<conversation continues....>

"Maybe we can all see the new _____ movie this weekend?"
"Sure!   Talk to you tomorrow."
"Ok.  Bye!  Love you"
"Love you too"


That's how I see my life in that world where my daughter lives in Western New York.   Unfortunately, my real world does not resemble this in any way, shape or form.   Instead, we see each other sporadically for concentrated periods of time during which we attempt to cram weeks or months of conversation into 2 days.  What happens next is that uncomfortable phenomenon that happens at the end of vacations where nobody can think of one more blessed thing to say to one another, but we feel like we have to keep talking while we have the chance.

This is not to be confused with the silence that happens when you see each other all the time and are just comfortable enough with each other that words aren't really necessary.   This is the "I really need to get away from here because my brain hurts from trying to think of something to say" situation.

<Sigh>

I miss the everyday stuff.     Occasional dinners or brunches instead of gorging ourselves for 2 days straight.  Picking things up for each other at the store.  Pet-sitting.  Shopping.

Well, this may be the world's shortest blog post, but it's really all I have to say about this right now.  Everyone needs a dream, right?

Throwing in the Towel

Well, readers....

You're read my ramblings and aborted attempts to help myself. You've read about my relationships, all few of them. People who mean the world to me, but somehow I keep messing up with them whether I try hard or just try to go with the flow. 

I've tried yoga

I've tried meditation 

I've tried extreme exercise and dieting. 

I've tried blogging-obviously.

I've tried the old "do what makes me happy and don't worry about anyone else" routine. 

I've tried turning myself inside out in an attempt to make people want me (or want me more than they already do). 

I've tried to get myself involved more in activities hoping that something magical would happen. That I'd suddenly become an "It Girl". 

I'm tired. And I just feel like a big ball of resentment and anger. This is a dangerous combination.  It makes me say and do stupid things.

Is there really such a thing as unconditional love and support between anyone other than parents and children?  It doesn't feel like it right now.  Is there anyone out there who has enough faith in me to  just say "you're in your stupid place right now, aren't you?" instead of reacting with anger when I'm in my stupid place?  Is it fair to even expect anyone to be able to do that?

Maybe I don't deserve such a person. 

I need professional help.  It has taken me years of flailing around trying to cure  myself to say that.  I've unfairly leaned on other people who I claim to love for too long because I didn't want to admit the truth 

I need a shrink. 

I want to cry but I can't because I'm at work.   Put up the facade and soldier on. But very soon, I need to get help, before I really end up as alone as I feel. God help me. 

Halfway Down a Black Hole, or Halfway to the Top?

It seems like ever since I decided that I was a co-dependent, my existence has been a series of epiphanies strung together by my determination to get through each day in a positive way.  The latest one came last month.  

I think I've written about the struggle in my adult life to find friends....ad nauseum.  I don't think I have high standards.  A few people who might actually want to include me in their group activities would fit the bill just fine.  Maybe a person or two who have some free time that they're looking to fill....  I guess it would be nice if I even shared their basic philosophies of life, but lets not get carried away.  

The fact is, I can't force anyone to want me.   Wow, I just typed that and read it, and it looks really pathetic.  But really, sometimes I feel like one of those older cats or dogs in the cages at the SPCA with the caption above them that reads  "Please give me a forever home.  I might be older but I still have a lot of love to give."   I can't do anything about other peoples' lives, only my own.  Yes, it boils down to this -  the act of not only desiring my company but having time for it can't be forced, and throwing myself into things and being rejected only makes me feel worse.

So, I decided last month that I would just "be".   I decided that I needed to put it into God's hands.   I needed to have hope that God has something in store for me down the road that will fill this hole.  I decided that I needed to involve myself in things that would get me out of the house, but without unrealistic expectations.  "Do it to live in the moment - nothing more, nothing less".   And as for the people I am close to.......   I can't expect more from them than they are willing and able to give.  In my last blog, I mentioned the human relationship food pyramid. It leads to the dinner plate and how much of it should be protein, veggies, etc...   What an interesting intersection with the "plate" as people refer to it as a symbol of their lives.   So, it stands to reason that where I place people on my "plate" usually will not match the position that I  hold on their "plates".   I won't lie - it would be wonderful to be at the center of someone's plate.  Maybe I was at one time.  In the here and now, it doesn't feel like I am.  Mostly, I feel like a side item that's out there in its own dish because it doesn't fit on the plate.   So... word to the wise - if you're the center of someone's universe, don't take it for granted!

I've been mostly ok with this for the past month or so.  I just try to live one day at a time and pull the positives out of whatever happens to be going on at the moment - whether I'm alone or not.  There are days like today where my resolve breaks down and I wonder what the point of my existence is.  I mean, really, what is the point?  What am I here for?   These are the difficult days.   These are the days when I have to power through, take deep breaths and tell myself over and over that God has a plan for me and for how my life will evolve.  I just have to have patience and let it happen.

One thing that seems to crop up almost every day is people lamenting about how summer "flies by," blah blah blah ........ Erie County Fair.......blah blah blah ........back to school.... blah blah blah.    For me, it moves at the speed of wet cement.   In a weird sort of way .... since summer is supposed to be so wonderful ..........  I guess that makes me lucky.

One Again .....and Control

As a follow up to my most recent post, allow me to say that I had hoped that things were improving.  In a way, I think they are. But I wish I felt better about it. 

I have no control over others. I can't force people to make me a priority in their lives or invite me places or even remember that I exist. This includes the people closest to me.  It's nobody's fault. Everyone is just living their own life as best they can. But when a child that I care about very much hugs me and tells me that she "hasn't seen me in forever", how do I respond without letting her see into my soul. Because I don't think anyone in their right mind wants to see into my soul right now.  So I put on my adult face.  Smile. Agree and change the subject.  Because I have no control over this. Victory.  Right?

Acknowledging this really should be some sort of victory ....yes?    I guess it is. It doesn't feel like a victory, but then I guess not all victories are meant to feel good. 

What this victory means to me right now is that I'm back to trying to figure out my purpose in life, knowing that I may have to do it basically alone. The black hole in front of me is still there.  My job is to figure out what's in there waiting for me. 

Maybe if I concentrate on this instead of obsessing over the "alone" part, I'll be able to finally figure it out.  I'm only 52 years old, but at times I feel like I've already become my mother.  Even she had a better social life than this at age 52.  Maybe, maybe, maybe.  Maybe some day cows will fly. 

I'm developing a theory in my head that our relationships are like the food pyramid.  And each person's relationship "plate" is unique and some plates are much more complex than others. I know where people are on my plate. But I'm never really sure where I am on theirs. And I have no control over where I am on theirs. And I never will.  We eat to nourish our bodies. Relationships nourish our souls.  I am now at a stage in life where I am more in control of my physical nourishment than I ever have been before.  The other..... no control.  Irony. 

One is the loneliest step

I have co-dependent personality disorder.  There. I've said it and I've written it.  I realized this a few months ago. Once I identified why this came to be, I needed to figure out what to do. I am now trying to get a grip on my life.

Like many other disorders, the road to recovery involves a 12-step program.  I have zero experience with these programs.  I really thought they were only for addicts. But isn't that what I am in a way?  I'm addicted to destructive behavior. Behavior that is destructive to me and to my relationships with others. 

I had to start somewhere if I was to ever find peace. So a couple of weeks ago, I started working on Step 1. Step 1 goes like this:

We admitted we were powerless over others - that our lives had become unmanageable.  

I thought this sounded so easy.  And I was so wrong.   Because it's about trying to manipulative and control others with our words and actions. These are things I've been doing my entire adult like.  For me, this is like breathing.  Now I no longer trust my own thoughts or words.  I feel like I have to examine everything for ulterior motives. But in the heat of the moment, I'm prone to forgetting, and I revert back to what comes naturally to me.  A part of me wishes I could just go away somewhere and practice on total strangers for however long it takes me to get it right.  I'm being too hard on myself, I'm sure.  I've only been at this for a couple of weeks, and it might take years.  Why did I think I could just flip a switch?

"When we love others too much, when we so desperately want and need what they have - whether that is acceptance, approval, love or friendship - we forfeit our ability to take care of ourselves with them, out of fear that we may not get what we need.  We may hope that if we hold things in place by willpower, we will finally be safe and get what we need.

We won't."

This is wretchedly difficult. I never thought that something that sounds so easy could be ... to this extreme, not.  Because I am no longer sure if my words are born of opinion, concern, advice or manipulation. And this makes me feel very scared and alone.   To be clear, I know I'm not alone.  But being alone and feeling alone are very different.

What I've read is that some of us are completely ready for Step 1 because we are "tired".   Tired. Tired of fighting, I guess or of mental agony of constant self doubt?  It is tiring, but somehow it isn't that black and white for me.  When I examine my relationship with my spouse, I feel as though I'm on the cusp of surrendering to this Step. Because I've been trying to manipulate him for such a long time, and because I see the positive results lately in those instances when I've just let go.  But he's just one person.  What about everyone else?

A few years ago, I put myself in the position of being the "great communicator" in one of my volunteer positions.  It just dawned on me that, in my current condition, I must be insane to continue in this position.  What's coming around the bend for me and the people I serve?  Should I view this as "good practice"?  Or maybe as self-help exercises?  It doesn't seem quite fair to the people who find themselves having to put up with me.

I've had a couple of minor victories at home and elsewhere but for every step forward there seems to be three steps back. I guess the fact that I'm even aware is a step forward - instead of stomping through life like a wrecking ball.

I've also read that co-dependents have a habit of apologizing all the time for things that they shouldn't be apologizing for. Yes, there is truth in that.  Somehow I have to get control over Step 1 before I deal with extraneous apologies. I'm having a hard enough time categorizing my communications properly before, during and after I issue them without wondering if I should or should not be apologizing for miscues. 

I guess I really do need a support group. Because I have no idea if I'm on the right track or not. And in those moments when I think I'm on the wrong track .... I just want to go off and curl up in a ball and cry. Sometimes I just need someone to put their arms around me and tell me that eventually it will be alright.  How in the world did I, someone who was deprived of physical and emotional affection as a child, end up married to an emotionally challenged man who doesn't like to be touched?  I suppose that's a subject for a different post and a different time.

Right at this moment I don't know if this is better than the black hole I was looking into last month. If I knew that someday I might be able to just communicate like a normal person if I were to stay on this track, I'd say it's worth it. That day seems awfully far into the future. I just hope when it finally arrives, I'll have someone to communicate with. 

The Undiscovered Path to the Afterlife

Suicide is a mystery to those who have never contemplated it.  Why do some people choose to end their lives while others who appear to be so alone in the world choose to soldier on, day after day?  Catastrophe.  The stock market crash of 1929.   The poor souls who chose to jump from the upper floors of One World Trade Center on 9/11.   People with severe addictions.  Even people with terminal illnesses.  But what about the others?  What about the people who look like they have it all together- even to their loved ones?

When the answer is not easily known, then I think that only the deceased can know the entire story.  Suicide is so personal, so individual as to almost be beyond the comprehension of anyone other than a higher power.  I reject the idea that it is an unpardonable sin that condemns the deceased to Hell.   I choose, rather, to hope that the deceased had strong faith in a merciful God who will thereafter cradle that person in his arms and will grant the thing that the deceased wanted above all else – peace.

My fatal flaw is my total inability to deal with uncertainty.   I’m not talking about everyday uncertainty like what to order in a restaurant.  I’m talking about real conflict resolution that involves major pieces of my life.    I don’t know why I do what I do, and maybe only a psychiatrist would ever be able to figure it out.  When serious conflict arises that jeopardizes the future, my coping mechanism is to do whatever I have to do to identify steps to a solution.   I compulsively must do this.  Whether the solution be in the near future or far off does not matter.  Maybe the real solution has yet to really be defined.  But if I can at least know in my head that there is a path leading to peace, I will be ok.   

How do I go about identifying those steps on that path…. that’s the hitch.   Usually I talk to the other parties involved until the path reveals itself.  The parties are not always happy about this.   I would even go so far as to say that the parties are usually not happy about this and sometimes will even tell me what they think I want to hear just to shut me up.   This tends to backfire – on me, not them – when the path never actually happens and I end up feeling betrayed.  Sometimes I write rather than talk.  Writing is not the ultimate solution but at least it allows me to “get it out”.

I am writing now because I am talked out and don’t know what else to do.  Because every major aspect of my life is in a state of uncertainty and conflict, and I’m fairly sure that the other people are tired of my talking, while in other cases, there really is nobody to talk to.  

When I write about looking for a path, what I really mean is that path that I was on has ended.  Imagine that you are hiking deep in the forest by yourself on a path miles from anywhere or anyone, and the path just ends and you are staring at tall woods.   That is what my life feels like right now.   Only this is a one-way path.  There is no turning around and going back from whence I came.    I must go forward…. except I’m lost.  I don’t know which direction to go or what I’m going toward.   As I struggle to cope, my brain will not shut off.  It is filled day and night with scenarios and outcomes.  I have conversations with myself.   “What will I do if………”  “Who can I talk to about……?”    “If this turns out like _____, then…………, but what if _______ happens?”   One of my conflicts is so unpredictable on a day-to-day basis that it sometimes feels like walking in a never-ending minefield where the only way out is to step on a mine.  Or if I do somehow find my way out, I might have to run away from it as fast as I can.   I find myself having imaginary conversations with people because the real thing has just become too difficult.

Everything resolves.  Or so I’m told.   The act of suicide has been described as cowardly and selfish.  I don’t know if I totally agree with that.   I actually think it takes a lot of courage.  I know I could never pull it off, and I know that the people who care about me don’t deserve to be punished in that way just for living their lives to the best of their ability based who they are deep inside – whether or not their act of living does anything to help me.    What I know for sure is this.  We all have a path that we are destined to walk.  Sometimes we stray down wrong paths.   The worst is when the path disappears completely.  For some people, there is only so long they can struggle to find it again before it all just becomes too much.   As for me, I don’t think I will ever again be one of the people who ponders a suicide and thinks – “We never saw it coming.  What could have happened?”  Every story is unique, but ultimately it comes down to the undiscovered path.  

 

 

A No Good, Very Bad Post

I hate my husband when he gets into his moods. Those moods where I can do nothing right. I'm sitting in my car in a church parking lot right now because it's better than sitting home with him. 

Just once I would love it if he would be able to suppress this part of himself. Just once. I know now that he is incapable of it, but sometimes I am just too tired to be the bigger person. 

So I am sitting in my car.  I am tired, my back hurts, my head hurts and I have 3 more hours of human interaction before I can go home and bury my face in my pillow.  

I hate him when he's like this. I hate my life when he's like this.  But life goes on, doesn't it?   So tired......  Just tired. 

Irrational Fear or Destiny

I've blogged incessantly about my lack of friends, why and how I came to have a lack of friends and what (if anything) I can do about it.  For a period of time,  that's pretty much all I blogged about.  I really thought I was in a better place mentally and emotionally because I didn't feel the need to blog incessantly about it.

I was wrong.

I still think about my Mom a lot.  I try to think of her as she was when I was younger and not as she was in her last years, but I can't help but think of her life as sort of a collective body of work with a very unhappy finale.  I've also insisted that I don't want to end up like her, but I'm starting to think that I have little control over the situation.

I always assumed that my mother was a solitary person who didn't mind spending time alone.  I never paid attention to whether or not she made any attempt to change her situation.  I do remember that she was very good friends with my sister in law's mother.    When my Dad was alive, the four of them were very social together going to dinner, movies, concerts, etc...  When my Dad died, Sue was her rock.   When my sister in law's father retired, however, that's when things got dicey.  He was very possessive of his wife, and her personality was not one that lent itself to .... shall we say... independent action...   We found out a few years later that he had Alzheimer's disease.  Unfortunately, the damage to their friendship was done.  I knew my mother was sad about it, but I now believe that she was probably devastated.

The bottom line is that I really have no idea if she tried to cultivate new friendships as she progressed through her middle age years and beyond.  Besides making me question my worth as a daughter, this leaves me with all sorts of questions.  I am really like her?  Did she have friends when she was in her 20's that she gave up on?  Did she, like me, try to turn her work associates into personal friends only to have her hopes dashed?  She bowled with friends and relatives well into her 50s.   Did she think that they would become close friends?  Was she upset when she stopped bowling and the friends drifted away out of her life?

The simple fact is that I am petrified of spending the last years of my life alone.  I have always thought that my mother was alone most of the time because she was crabby and disagreeable....  but just maybe she was crabby and disagreeable because she was alone.   A vicious cycle.  Which again causes me to question my worth as a daughter.  Would her mood have improved if I had forced myself to spend more time with her?  I'll never know.

Yes, we have the power to shape our destinies.... to a point.

I'm married to a man who prefers his old antique car to me a lot of the time.  He thinks that spending time at home is a waste of time, I guess.  I don't know.   He doesn't realize that his presence is the important thing - not that we have to be engaged in conversation or activity together every minute he's home.  What is that saying about two people who are just able to be in each other's presence without the need for words?

I am miles ahead of where I was 10 years ago, in that at least I do have one important friend.  She is 20 years older than me.  We're an interesting and unexpected pair.  Sometimes I get the feeling that people don't know what to make of us. We don't talk about the age difference very often anymore.  I think that when people connect on a mental, emotional and spiritual level, chronological age is rendered irrelevant.  I love this woman.  She has made me a better person in more ways than I can count.  We are good for each other in all sorts of ways.  But I can't deny that I find myself thinking about what I will do without her someday.  The thought of this makes me want to cry and- in fact, I have done just that.  I don't like reminders of her age, but they are there and for me to ignore them or disrespect them is unkind and unfair.   If I'm to be any kind of friend,  I must respect them and be considerate of them and of her.  I've gone through periods of flat-out denial, and other times I've attempted to bridge the gap by pointing out the signs of my own advancing age.  I guess my behavior has been sort of stupid at times.  And really, who knows what the future holds?  I really am getting to the age where people my age are passing away from untimely deaths-all the time, it seems like.  What if I'm next?

Right now I am 51 years old and already feeling alone.  Which makes my problem worse than my mother's problem at this age.  I'm on the fast track, comparatively speaking.  What to do?  As I've said before, one doesn't just impose oneself on other people and expect positive results.  I can't force people to invite me to things.  I can't force my husband to stay home.  He'd probably be miserable - at which point I'd end up telling him to go away.   This aloneness makes me irrational.  Another vicious cycle.  Who wants to hang around with an irrational, clingy and needy person?

Maybe it would be best to accept my fate.  I may become the crazy cat lady who carries on conversations with herself.   And the cats.   At least they won't argue with me.....much.

What to feel when you don't know how to feel.

Lately, I've been trying to flood my psyche with happiness-inducing memes and stories and quotes, because I figure... sooner or later, something has got to stick with me.   So what have I got to be unhappy about?  If I knew the answer to that question, I might know how to help myself.

I recently figured out that I have a co-dependent personality.   For a little while, this brought some relief.  That there was a root cause for my behavior.  But now, more and more, I realize that I'm sure not going to be cut any slack by anyone based on this revelation.  The only person who can cut me any slack is me.

I have felt unhappy, lonely, and misunderstood for the majority of my life.  It's become very difficult to do anything or make any decision or say anything without second-guessing myself.   Almost impossible, really.  I'm not even sure who I am most of the time.  I think I can be a reasonably pleasant person when I try.  Other times, it feels very difficult and when that happens, I feel defeated by myself and that's when I become the angry, bitchy me.  Which leads to more second-guessing and self-condemnation.  It's a vicious circle.

I read something on Facebook about how people who have committed suicide are wrongly considered to be selfish.  This post went on about how people who are depressed enough to end their own lives truly believe that the people around them would be better off without them in the world.   I'm going to admit that I understand that thinking.  There have been times when I thought that very few people would know or care if I ceased to exist.  And sometimes I wonder .....  how fine is the line between very few people and nobody?

Maybe I just need to start cutting myself some slack.   I mean really, what are the facts?

I am NOT the most challenged, downtrodden person on the face of the earth.  Here are the facts of the past ten years:

Many of my immediate family has dispersed to other states.  Many of our most joyful holiday traditions no longer happen.  Hell, these people have essentially disappeared from my life.  I miss them more than I care to admit.

Three members of my family passed away in the span of 10 months.  One of these people was my mother.  One of these people was a 10-year-old child.  In the years since then I have experienced the deaths of people my age and people I sang with.

Roughly around the same time, I found myself fully engulfed in perimenopause - night sweats and brutal hot flashes.  I now know that my hormones had also rendered me incapable of maintaining an even keel of emotions for more than an hour or two.  Sadly, I was entirely focused on the physical issues and was dwelling on the deaths in my family,  and it took months for me to recognize that I was basically acting bat-shit crazy.

I have identified my co-dependent personality and, as I said, there was relief.  But now reality has set in.  My wacky co-dependent behavior is why I  am sitting home alone on a Saturday night.  Or, that's how it feels at the moment.

So..... what now?

How do I turn erratic behavior into something a bit more consistent - consistent, as in consistently good..... not consistently bitchy?  Hormone patches were a start.  What 's next?

How can I help myself feel more positive about "alone time"?    Since it seems to be a fact of my life,  I need to find a way to put a positive spin on it.

How do I stop beating myself up and second-guessing everything I say and do?  That's the tough one. That's where the whole co-dependent personality thing comes into play.

What is likable about me?  

I am funny - in a sarcastic way, mostly.
I am loyal.
I am creative

.....hmm, I'm sure there's more, but I don't think I'm at the point yet where I can come up with more.

So, I guess this explains why I don't know how I feel about too much these days.  Except that, mostly... I'm just afraid of messing up the rest of my life.  I'm afraid of alienating the people I care about.  I'm afraid of acknowledging that I deserve to be treated as well as I should be treating others.

Basically, I'm just afraid.   So there.   Let's move forward, shall we?

A Startling Self-Revelation

For the record, let it be known that I am NOT an Oprah devotee.  I subscribed to her newsletter, because once every ten e-mails or so, there is something interesting there.  A few days ago, the title of an article caught my eye.  You know, when you're checking off all of junk that's headed for the e-mail "trash" and suddenly.... whoa.... what's that???   The title that grabbed my attention...."The Day My Best Friend Broke Up With Me".   Yikes!   Due to my ever-present paranoia, I felt that I'd better read it, just in case, because you just never know when a useful nugget of information will present itself...

As I read it,  I felt the most weird combination of relief and horror.  This woman was me.  She was absolutely, positively ME.  The woman with a co-dependent personality disorder was her AND me. Of course, the story had an upbeat and hopeful ending, and of course my best friend has NOT broken up with me...but it left me with all sorts of questions.  But after further research, my initial suspicions were confirmed.  I have a co-dependent personality disorder.

This is a difficult thing to communicate.  Most people associate co-dependent personalities with relationships involving substance abuse.  That's what I always thought, anyway.  It seems that this is not always the case.   Now, the other issue is that we all know that it is quite unacceptable these days to blame your problems on your parents and how they raised you.  You hear this all of the time.  Yet, it seems that a lot of people with co-dependent personality issues were raised in environments that were emotionally deficient and/or abusive.  This is what I'm finding out now.  Wow!  After all of these years of trying to not be one of THOSE people, it turns out that I really am.... one of those people.

Where do I go from here?  This explains so much about my whole adult life up to now.  The lack of friends, the low self-esteem, and on and on.  And I can take steps to help myself, starting now.  I can help myself to be a better wife, friend, person... everything.   If I have the guts, that is.  Do I need to go to support group meetings?  They actually exist, come to find out, and practically in my back yard.  Yes, I have some real thinking to do about my next steps.  But at least there is so much more about my behavior that makes sense now.

For anyone who cares to learn more about this journey of self-discovery, here are some links:

This is the story on the Oprah website that started it all:  http://www.oprah.com/inspiration/Best-Friend-Break-Up

More interesting info:

http://coda.org/
http://www.wikihow.com/Tell-if-You-Are-Codependent
http://www.codependencynomore.com/codependency-quiz-2/

Half optimism, half fear......

 

A Reflection on this Summer

"The Fair closed last night.  It's the end of Summer."  Every year I hear this phrase repeated on the local news broadcast.  For some reason, it always makes me irrationally annoyed.  My theory has always been that it is NOT the end of Summer, at least not according to any calendar I've ever owned.  If people choose to make it be the end of their Summer...well, that's entirely up to them.  But when I heard that inevitable phrase this morning, something felt different.  I found myself silently acknowledging the hidden truth behind it.  Why?  Because this Summer has been an emotional roller coaster for me, with a very clear beginning and a very clear end.

In review...

My daughter, my only child, one of my best friends, moved to New York City to begin a new and challenging life and career.  While I am so very excited for and proud of her, I keep wondering if and when the day will come when I will wake up in the morning and not miss her.  Or at least not miss her so much that my chest hurts,  I see other people whose children have lived elsewhere and have come back to Buffalo, and I know the happiness that they are feeling.  But I don't kid myself that it is a happiness that I will ever feel.  Look, it took Buffalo 100 years to rise into one of the great cities of our country and then decline into a national joke.  I am so proud and happy that we are on the rise again, but I just don't think it will happen fast enough for someone in my daughter's profession.  She is a chef.  Can anyone guess how many new eateries we would have to add before we even come close to New York City or Boston?  If she were in almost any other line of work, I would have hope.  Right now, it all seems very permanent to me.

And speaking of New York City... I traveled with members of my Chorus to sing in various venues around Manhattan over the July 4th holiday.  I will not go into detail about the performances, because I've already done that elsewhere (Five Days in July - making Miracles with Music Notes ).   I will just say that traveling with these people, performing with these people, enduring with these people and celebrating with these people bolstered my faith in humanity.  In a way that nobody or nothing else could have or probably ever will.

It dawns on me as I am composing this that the rest of my summer had a theme of health - my health, both mental and physical.

On the physical side, I was furiously battling some upper respiratory woes in a fight that had been going on since February.  Lesson I've learned - specialists are called "specialists" for a reason.  If you are really suffering and haven't gotten to the bottom of your problem after several visits to your general practitioner, then run -don't walk - to a specialist.  What are you waiting for?  Divine intervention?   I also decided, after seeing some pictures of myself, that I had really just had it with my pudgy, bloated self.  I didn't feel terrific.  I certainly didn't look terrific.  I decided to try a program that I had been reading about off and on for months called Whole30.  Without going into the necessary copious detail needed to really understand it, Whole30 calls for eliminating foods that are known allergens and inflammatories from your diet for 30 days.  It is really about discovering if food is the source of what is ailing you (it usually is), which particular food is ailing you (could be more than one food group) and the shocking discovery that so much of what we are sold in grocery stories - even so-called "healthy" grocery stores- is just plain bad for us sometimes to the point of almost qualifying as poison.  I suspected it all along, but until I experienced feeling about 250% better after completing this 30 day program, all I can say is that I am determined to continue eating this way even though it takes a lot of planning and cooking on the weekends and even though I'm pretty sure it will be even more difficult to execute during the winter months.  No wonder Europe doesn't want anything to do with our food.  Amazing!!

On the mental side, I've really been exploring the major relationships in my life this summer.  I  don't have many of them any more, but the ones that I do have are pretty complex.    It has been a process that started with my daughter making her permanent move to New York City and culminates with this post - although I would be pretty ignorant to think that relationships aren't continually changing - growing, shrinking, morphing, etc...

It started with identifying which relationships were even worth examining.  You know, expending energy on evaluating someone who really adds nothing to your life might not be worth it.  A person isn't necessarily valuable to you just because he or she isn't a detractor.  (Before I go any further,... I am not talking about social media "friends" and other acquaintances here.  I'm talking about truly major relationships created and built due to either blood, time, proximity, experience or any combination of these things.)  So, over the course of this summer, I've thought about these special people in my life - the good aspects, the not-so-good, the downright infuriating stuff, and I've  parsed them down into two groups.

- The "Time for Radical Change" group

 If someone contributes a whole lot more bad than good to me and my mental well-being, it's time to create some distance from that person.  I've heard the term "toxic" relationship being used in print.  That's way too general for my liking.  If two people have any kind of history together, their interactions are usually much more complex than that. No relationship is all bad or all good, unless you're living in some sort of magical fairy world. If it's not possible to physically cut the ties for some reason, then I have to learn how to mentally distance myself from that person.  I'm not sure yet just how I will accomplish this or if I will even be successful at all, but one thing's for sure: if it's coming down to my mental health versus this person's mental health, I'm choosing to fight for my own.

- Relationships worth fighting for.  This was the easy category to identify.

My daughter.  I know that long-distance relationships really can't be the same as the relationships we have with people in our own back yard.  What I have to do is to find a way to be done mourning the "back yard" relationship I had with her and move on to the next phase.  She is, as I said before, one of my best friends - the happy byproduct of successfully helping our children grow into adults.  Social media, for better or for worse, will be our ally, as will text messaging and e-mails.  I will be vigilant in my efforts to keep our lines of communication open, and our visits to the "Big Apple" will be highly valued, and every minute will count.

My husband.  What I have come to realize over this Summer is that he is struggling to adapt just like me.  Three months ago, I wouldn't have thought so.  We just returned from a trip to Toronto.  I had insisted that the trip not be about my birthday.  Mostly because I don't care that much about my birthday any more.  While we were there, though, it was clear that his priority was that I have a good time.  For my birthday and just simply for me.   Not all of the plans worked out as anticipated, but what spoke the loudest to me was that there actually were plans.  I loved that more than anything.  What I came away with is that we will have to grow into our empty nest.  We cannot just snap our fingers and - viola! - everything works.  I'm not sure why I ever thought it would be that easy.

My friends.  What I learned over this Summer is that, as with my daughter, just like long-distance relationships can't pretend to be backyard relationships, so too, backyard relationships can't thrive and grow if they're treated like long-distance relationships.  To me, they're like a flower bed - in your "back yard" (get it?).  You can't water and weed them through the computer or telephone.  Now of course, it's really just not that black and white all the time - is it?    But if the effort is there, the garden will flourish.  There may be a lot more weeds at some times than others, but as long as the weeds aren't allowed to overtake the flowers, everything will be OK.

Maybe the end of the Fair is the end of Summer.  I didn't even go to the Fair this year.  The Greek Festival has often been hailed as the beginning of Summer.  I didn't go to that either.  This is our life. Artificial beginnings and endings have a habit of psyching us all out.  Don't buy into it.  Try creating your own beginnings and endings and see where they take you.

August 10, 2015 Not a Bad Weekend

Checking in today with good news.  We had a nice, confrontation-free weekend.  Of course we were apart all day, both days and only met up at dinnertime.  Rather than analyzing what that might mean, I'll just accept it.   Because...... the last "episode" occurred on a weeknight....

Breathe... and one day at a time.  I am very happy that we are going to Toronto for two days, on a weekend that coincidentally falls on my birthday.  I am really not comfortable with the idea that this trip is "for my birthday".   Bill keeps teasing me that it is.  In my mind, it is NOT.  We try to go to Toronto at least once a summer, and the summer is rapidly disintegrating.  The 22-23rd just happens to be the weekend of which both of us have no other commitments.  This is not a milestone birthday, so I feel really uncomfortable thinking of this getaway as a birthday trip,  He will persist, though, because that way he gets to paint me as the self-centered jerk - at least that's how I feel when he refers to it as a "birthday trip".

<Sigh>....... one thing is for sure.  We are staying in a very cool hotel, and if it's the same type of room as last time, the room is also very cool.  I had the misfortune of getting my period the day we arrived last time.   A crushing disappointment, to say the least.  We had better make up for that misfortune this time around - bring on the wild night!  

House Rules

I really should post an entry on days when things are going well.  Monday was a good day.  Tuesday was good until approximately 9:00PM or so when, in the interest of sharing, I told Bill about some of my social plans for the what remains of the summer.    You see, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't.  I'm told that I "don't tell him anything".  I was also accused on Tuesday night of "yelling at him all the time."    Hmmm.... what reason could I possibly have to yell at him, I wonder?  Why would I want to hesitate about telling him things?  It couldn't possibly have to do with the fact that anything I tell him that doesn't directly involve him is met with mockery, insults or incessant grilling and critiquing...

To sum things up, here are our current house rules

Husband:

 - does not clean up dishes after any meal and hasn't since he started working in the metal shop presumably because he was always "beat".   He no longer works in the metal shop.  Hasn't for months.  This along with never, EVER putting things back where he found them,.

- Plans random activities every weekend with male friend, whenever he isn't sewing insulated blankets.  Informs wife of his activities on a "need to know" basis.  All she needs to know is that he's rarely around on weekends,  He does usually show up for dinner and evening activities.  I'll give him that much.  And if I make plans for both of us, he's there.

- takes care of household tasks and chores on an "as needed" or "emergency" basis.  IE - one of his acquaintances was coming over last night, and he was frantically vacuuming and throwing clutter into bags to be hidden.

- if the wife says anything that he isn't 100% happy with or that he thinks may lead to something that he won't be happy with, he feels entitled to the use of swearing and nasty name-calling.  His idea of an ounce of prevention?  This behavior is usually followed by an extended period of nit-picking every move she makes.

- randomly intersperses periods of  light-heartedness, joking and generosity into all of the above so as to keep the wife off balance at all times.   During these periods is when sex usually occurs, which makes the wife wonder about his motivations.

Wife:

- cooks and cleans up after because the alternative is to eat out all the time which is expensive and unhealthy.  After a few years of picking up after husband and putting things away, she became totally discouraged and  not only stopped picking up after him but lapsed into his patterns of bad behavior.

- Engages in one outside activity that is very important to her -  important enough to put up with the mockery, insults and critiquing he give her.  Has gotten to the point where she plans activities with friends, tells him, then thumbs her nose at him when he fusses about it.  No point in even trying to be pleasant or diplomatic.

- now feels justified in saying what's on her mind as it comes in to her mind.  Otherwise, she will be accused of "not telling him things".

- No longer holds back her anger when he degenerates into the swearing and name-calling and sometimes responds in kind. She knows that it's wrong, but in the heat of the moment, she doesn't care.

- has decided that if she is such a crashing disappointment as a wife, she might as well respect herself by sticking up for herself when arguments start.  She knows and admits that she is not perfect.  Too bad he can't do the same.

- will continue to go along with the sex as long as it continues to be better than self-gratification.  So far, so good.   They always say men are only good for one thing.  Too bad they feel the need to live down to that saying.

Those are our house rules as of today.  So the question to be answered is this - are we life partners or are we roommates with benefits?    And what happens when you can't tell the difference anymore?

A New Direction for This Blog August 3, 2015

Greetings to all who are still with me on this blog!

A few weeks ago, I started a new blog that I am actively promoting on social media.  I am going through what I will call an "interesting" phase in my life right now, and I've decided that I really need to journal my feelings.   So,  this blog is going to take the shape of a journal, and if you don't know me personally, I will be using names and places that are a part of my personal life, and I won't be bothering with extra descriptions.   If that doesn't appeal to you, then get out now; otherwise....

Mandy moved to New York City in June.  My only child is gone for the foreseeable future.  Please everyone, stop telling me what a great place it is to visit and how so many young people are returning to Western New York.  And, above all, PLEASE stop asking me about when I think she'll come here for a visit! She just started a new job, for Christ's sake!!  We have a visit planned for the end of October, which, today might as well be the end of never..

I've decided that Bill is just as mixed up as I am about our empty nest.  The problem is, he won't talk about it.  So I can't tell if he's still interested in me as his wife and partner, or if he just wants a roommate that cooks.  He seems to only be capable of thinking in terms of "me" and "I" rather than "us" and "we"-  case in point:  this birthday party at the Manor House in September.  When I told him that we might have been been back-doored into sleeping there on Saturday AND Sunday night, his response was "I have to go to work in the morning!!"  These words instantly infuriated me, and I replied "Well what the hell do you think I have planned for Monday morning?  Sitting around eating bon-bons"???  He is like this about everything.  It's like I'm some vague after-thought for him.  Without a dependent child in the mix, I guess he has no reason to think about me at all.  Today my alarm malfunctioned and I was running behind.  Now, he has made it clear that he rolls in to work at 8:30 or 9:00 and is the first one there.  I have to be downtown by 7:30.  So, I'm scrambling around, run downstairs.... and there he is at the stove, making HIS breakfast.  This is not the time he usually makes it, but he decides that today would be a good day to do so,...... because why not make Tina more late than she already is????

My choices, as I see them right now, are to either try to bring him around or to just start doing my own thing without him, just as he seems to be doing. Of course, that is not as easy as it sounds.  Social media is flooded with people posting about vacations and picnics and whatnot, which involves (duh!) groups of  people - as in someone other than me, myself and I.  I am just out of ideas on what to do about this, and maybe writing about it will help me to not turn into a complete basket case.

My mother consciously chose the path of the Lone Wolf.  For quite a few years, it seemed to work for her - until she died bitter and lonely.  Which makes me wonder if she really chose the path or was forced down it by circumstance.  At least while my father was alive, she had a partner who seemed remotely interested in her.  So, in a way, she was better off than me.  This thought does NOT make me feel better.

More Reaping

Have you ever felt like crap about a situation that you've found yourself in, and you think you've resolved it in your mind until you read something that completely undoes you?  You think you're on the right path of resolution, then someone's perfectly innocent words just put a bulldozer right through it.

My summer sure started out in fantastic fashion.   My trip to New York with my Chorus exceeded all expectations.  The only thing wrong with it was that it was only 5 days.  Five days, and then I had this gaping, yawning hole to fill for the rest of July and August.   On our last day there, a general movement toward getting back home had gripped the group.  I was unreasonably annoyed by it to the point where I had to count to 10 more than once in order to keep myself from saying something I would regret.  I know why I felt this way.  It was simple.  I didn't want to go home.  I didn't want the best part of my summer to end because that would mean that the rest of the summer would have to begin.

Now that I am writing this down, it sounds pathetic, but sometimes the truth ain't pretty.  But there it is.  So, I came home, and I put one foot in front of the other, and I tried to block the coming weeks out of my head.  Then, yesterday I got an invite to a party on Facebook.  It's one of those parties where you are intrigued but you're afraid you won't know anyone there except the host.  So I asked another invitee, a woman around my age, what her thoughts were about attending.  Her answer?   "Saturdays are prime 'home and family' time for us during the summer.  I probably won't go.'"  A perfectly legitimate and forthright answer.  Yet, it reverberated through me to the point that I felt it necessary to write about it.

I wonder what it's like to know that no matter what sort of week you've had, there will always be one day that you can count on to be good?  "Prime Home and Family Day", to be exact.  I think the closest I've ever come to experiencing that was when my mother was still alive and we went to her house for dinner once a week.  I miss that.  I didn't realize how much I missed it until now.   I miss the idea that there are people in the world who care enough about you to carve out a specific time every week for you, and you care enough to do the same for them.   Sacrosanct time.  I can't help but wonder if I will ever know what that feels like again.  

Which leads me back to the ever-present feeling that we reap what we sow in this life that we're given, and somehow I've come to deserve this current experience.  What to do about it?  It really isn't as easy as just "making it happen".  People who've obviously done something right all these years, who already have their "Prime Home and Family Day" always say things like that, along with other unhelpful cliches like "visualize the goal, then work toward making it a reality", etc, etc.   "Making it Happen" is tough when you have no idea where to begin, and worse, when you're not sure if you have anyone to "make it happen" with.

As for that intriguing party, I'm not going to ask anyone else if they're going.  I don't want to hear any more answers like that first one.  You're probably thinking "just go to it."  Ok, and are you the type of person who just goes to parties where there's a 95% chance that you'll know absolutely nobody?  Right.  I didn't think so.  It's pathetic.  Like going to the movies by yourself.  You sit there and try to convince yourself that you're brave and independent, and all along there's this little voice at the back of your head whispering "You're pathetic".  And did I mention that the chances of my husband going are probably 95% negative?   

So, I will resume the task of putting one foot in front of the other, and I will try not to think about the weeks of absolute nothingness that are stretched out in front of me.  Maybe I need to stop reading Facebook so that I won't see the intriguing party invites that I won't accept, and I won't read about other people's family vacations.  But then, if I were to stop reading Facebook, that would just be one more hole to fill.  I don't need one more hole.  I need people for whom I want to set aside "prime home and family" time.   Maybe I can find the witch from Into the Woods, and I can give her the ingredients for her magic potion, and she can grant me my wish, and I can then find out that my wish isn't all that it was cracked up to be.    Maybe there's a positive side to my current situation, and I just have to look for it.  Or maybe not.  Maybe it just is what it is.  Yes, this is a truly pathetic post.  Sometimes, we just have to get it out and get it down in words if we're to have any prayer of moving on.  

A New Face on an Old Friend

(If this seems like an homage to Janice Okun, it is.  I didn't always agree with her reviews, but I loved reading them.)

This looks a lot more like Christmas than Easter, no?  Yet this was the view today, Easter Sunday 2015, from the back patio of The Public House on the Lake.  This, their opening week - opening with a bang offering brunch on Easter Sunday.   Regardless of wind and weather, the atmosphere inside was warm and cozy.  Fans of the defunct Root Five will be happy to hear that the new owners of TPHOTL have maintained the basic decor and layout of its predecessor.

The service, right from the start, was exemplary.  The companion and I are experienced buffet aficionados, having run the gamut from spreads resembling something one might expect at the chuckwagon, to high-end extravaganzas offering those unpronounceable dishes that make me feel like the peasant that I am.  Nothing puts one off like poor service at a buffet.  Clear the plates, fill the coffee cups.  Very simple.  There were no issues here.  The staff was very eager to please.

On to the main topic:  food and drink.  Our first observation was of a huge and impressive chalkboard menu of craft beers, IPAs and hard ciders.  We reluctantly resisted the urge to indulge in a nontraditional Easter beverage and stuck with coffee.  I know - boring.  But bad coffee can ruin the Easter brunch experience, so I felt obligated to test it here.  This coffee was better than average - not spectacular, but definitely more than adequate.   As we made our way into the main buffet line, we were amused but appreciative of the piles of mixed plate sizes - everything from petite to manly.  The presentation of these plates was oddly charming.  This was a foreshadowing of the offerings to come, I suppose.

Salad lovers would be disappointed.  Only one large bowl of basic green leaf lettuce salad was offered, with one choice of dressing - balsamic vinaigrette.  However, there were quite a few other options for healthy eating.  The yogurt with fruit and granola was delicious.   Anyone who knows me well would be surprised to know that, upon coercion of the companion, I tried and enjoyed the smoked salmon and went back for seconds.  Another healthy option was the offerings of the carving station, with a nice selection of lean turkey, ham and roast beef - all very well prepared.  There was a disappointing lack of condiments offered for the turkey, though.  Gravy is nice, but how about some cranberry mayo or relish?  I am hesitant to offer an opinion on the vegetable medley, but I suppose if you enjoy spinach and yellow squash......  have at it!

On to the other highly enjoyable offerings.  The basic breakfast items were all nicely cooked and seasoned - particularly the scrambled eggs.  Knowing what I do about the egg mixture that most restaurants use for buffets, seasoning is critical, and TPHOTL hits it out of the park.  The companion proclaimed his loaded omelet to be "really, really good".  The pastry table offered a nice selection of muffins and danishes, but ... no bagels, toast or english muffins, so if you're looking to carbo-load on white flour bread products, you're in the wrong place.   Another deviation for me - the grits with shrimp.  I tried this for the shrimp and enjoyed it for both the shrimp and the grits.  Being a northern girl, I can't testify to the authenticity of this dish, but  - again - seasoning is key.  I don't know what was in those grits, but it made them very good indeed.  One downside was the sad offering of Belgian waffles.  One serving tray of cold cut up waffles cannot be considered as an adequate substitute for a waffle station, in my opinion.

The lunch/dinner items were in the range of tasty to divine.   My favorite was the seafood scampi which was an adventure in and of itself.  Scampi with lobster on the first round, scampi with mussels on the second round.  Who knows what was in there before my arrival and after my departure. Anyone who recalls with nostalgia the superb seafood offerings of Root Five will be happy to know that if this seafood scampi is any indication, TPHLTL should more than live up to its predecessor in that regard.

The companion saved his high praise for the cheesecake selection on the dessert table.  In particular, he gushed over the red velvet cheesecake.  Mind you, he comes from a long line of cheesecake lovers, so this might seem trivial to the reader, but it is high praise coming from him.

So there you have it.  In summary, this is a superior brunch for the money ($24.95), may not be for everybody, but definitely bodes well for the success of their regular dinner menu.

4 stars out of 5

Best Dishes:  Seafood Scampi, Omelets
Needs Work:  Belgian Waffles, Green Salad Selection (perhaps a raw vegetable station would be a nice addition.)
Missing: White Bread "stuff", Children's menu.  For future reference, parents:  If you have small children, call ahead and ask.  There were no chicken fingers, hot dogs or macaroni & cheese to be found at this brunch.
Missing but not Missed:  Mayo-based salads.  Who ever thought that picnic salads belonged on a brunch menu anyway?

I am looking forward to many enjoyable meals at this establishment!

Tears, and ...... Timers?

Nobody told me about this part.

I fully realize at this point that every woman's peri-menopause experience is unique.  As women, we listen to older women warning us about "the change" in ominous tones of voice.  The focus of the warnings are usually on hot flashes and weight gain.  My mother had hot flashes for years, but her emotions never seemed to get off-keel.  I had night sweats for about a year, followed by off the charts hot flashes for about 9 months.

Then, I launched into crazy world.

I view 2014 as the lost year.  Lost because when I wasn't insane from hot flashes, I was just plain insane.  I feel like it was a non-stop series of crisises that blurred together.  Absolutely everything felt like the end of the world to me.  I was in reactionary mode every minute of every day.   Looking back on that time, I think that the worst part of it was that I knew how I was acting and sounding, but I was like some sort of addict who just could not stop the bad behavior even though I desperately wanted to.   When I wasn't acting crazy, I was profoundly sad and depressed because I felt so out of control.   I finally gave in and asked for hormone therapy.  Hallelujah!  I started to regain my real life.  I still sometimes feel twinges of insanity, but I think (hope.... pray...) that the crazy anger is gone.

STOP!  Not so fast.  That was NOT the end.  I'm now dealing with a new issue which, I'm sure, will be seen as a welcome relief comparatively, but it is, nonetheless, baffling and sometimes downright embarrassing.

Tears.   As children, we received the message loud and clear.  Grownups don't cry.  I think I saw my Mom cry once - and it was not even when my Dad died.  So what happens when you suddenly develop this feeling that you are on the verge of bursting into tears, and you feel this way pretty much all the time.  It started with me about two months ago.  See, I should have known that the "feeling normal" stuff was too good to be true.

They talk about hair loss.  Receding gums.  Nobody talks about tears.  I don't know - is this the opposite of what I was experiencing last year?

Don't get me wrong - I am so beyond relieved to have gotten a grip on my anger insanity. Comparatively speaking, this is nothing.   But, it can definitely be embarrassing, which is why it took me two months to even write about it.  I was hoping that it would go away.  Not yet, I'm afraid.

By now, you're probably wondering where the timer comes in.   I had a particular exercise in my piano book that was giving me fits.  I finally thought I'd mastered it.  I was really anxious to play it at my lesson (for about fifth and hopefully final time, I hoped!) and was proud of myself for not giving up on it.  Well, one of the pitfalls of taking lessons with your best friend as the instructor is that you occasionally start talking and end up talking the lesson away.   I think we have both gotten used to it as just an unavoidable fact of life,  and I often told her that having me as a student was never going to make her rich.  On this particular day, as I said, I really wanted to play this pesky exercise, but ... alas .... it turned out to be one of those days somehow ....  and when I heard her timer go off signifying the end of our lesson time .......  well.... you guessed it.   I remember staring straight ahead at the music and taking very deep breaths.  I was afraid to even look at her.    Somehow I regained my composure, but I drove home with tears rolling down my face.  Now really... what a stupid thing to cry about!!  I mean, really????  Really???  That may be the point at which I realized that this was the next "phase" of "the change" for me.

As I said, I am not complaining, because overall, I feel so much better than I did 8 or 10 or 12 months ago.  I guess I am just sort of bewildered by it and, yes, afraid of embarrassing myself.   Who knows how long THIS phase will last?   I guess I'd better avoid K-Mart like the plague.  There's no telling what the blue light specials could do to me.