Amongst Friends

Yes, it has been a good long while since I have blogged. It makes me happy to say that I have been busy with many wonderful things and needed to take a writing-break while playing catch up. I am so sorry, my dear readers. Please know that you are not the only ones. While experiencing this large personal transition, I have had to put many more of my normal activities on hold. One thing I struggle with is the lack of time with some of my nearest and dearest friends. I have reached out to a few to catch up on life and give my apologies for my absence. Most have been warm and happy to hear from me. Some appear to have given me the brush off. This is my letter to them...

Dearest friends (especially my shenanigan and beer drinking friends), I am sorry for my absence of late. Please do not think that I have forsaken or forgotten you. Quite the contrary. 

I imagine a dialogue amongst some of you that may go something like this: 

Friend 1: Hey! Have you seen C lately? What's she been up to? I haven't seen her around here stumbling drunk with half a pint of IPA in her hand. 
Friend 2: Nope. She got a new man so she ditched us. She will be back when the relationship falls face first into shit. 

Sure, I have been spending a good portion of my free time with The Beast. I have no problem admitting that much. But here's the thing. He isn't the only person I would love to spend my time with. He just so happens to be one of the only people willing to accompany me on activities prudent to my personal growth.

As this blog itself is evident, this has been a long period of self-reflection and self-improvement. I have had some highs and lows (actually, mostly lows) this year, for all of which I take full responsibility. And in the last couple of months I have realized something big. I spent most of my Twenties (and probably most of my life) wanting in vain to be loved and to have companions who want to spend time with me. I'm not talking about romantic companions, I'm talking about all of you. For years, I would go to concerts and festivals that I loved, but couldn't afford. I would drink like a fish for the social companionship, even though I felt like death the next day. I would eat dinner out with the rest of the group, while healthy and affordable food waiting for me at home. I made my well being a non-priority and did all these things instead, to make you love me. I didn't want to be left behind. 

Now, something has flipped in me. I am slowly maturing enough to not only know what I need to do to improve my life, but to also act on it. So yeah, I haven't been drinking with y'all lately. I have missed some of your birthday celebrations. I opted out of concerts and festivals this summer. And in exchange, I have finally started to see the person I am and how I best thrive.  

For that, I make no apologies. 

I am growing in a way that makes me proud. And those of you closest to me, who know of the demons I have inside, would be proud too. I cherish all of you, my lovely friends. I miss you all terribly. I miss our lengthy slurred conversations in the beer garden. How about we continue some of those chats on a trail? Or in my kitchen? Or after a yoga class? Either way, please know I haven't come to love any of you any less. I just love myself more. 

xo
C

WWBBD?

Living in the culture I do, it is (unfortunately) not uncommon to hear of injuries and sometimes even deaths occurring during outdoor adventures. It seems that at least a couple of times a year, the community is affected by a hiker who disappeared, a skier caught in an avalanche, or a climber who fell to their deaths. It is a sad fact of life, but it never occurred to me that the subject of one of those headlines could be one of my people. Until it was.

Shortly after I turned twenty-one, I became a regular at my local mico-brewery. I still am. Over the last eight to nine years, I have developed many wonderful and cherished friendships through this tight-knit establishment. Only a few as bonded as my friendship with Big Bro. Big Bro was quite a few years my senior and had already experienced much of this world. He was married to a beautiful wife and a new dad to a bright little girl. He was a professional inventor, author, photographer, climbing instructor, traveler, and all around bad-ass. He was so much wiser to the world and always so happy and in love with his life. I very much looked up to him as a big brother I never had. I gained insight and life lessons from him over many IPA's and even took his rock climbing courses for my college Phys Ed credits.

On one particular three-day climbing trip, we scaled a massive and long route. Being the only girl (and smallest in stature) amongst our group of seven, I was determined to not be the weakest. But the climb up was never really the scary part for me. Sure, my skills are always at a beginner level, but the grunt part of a climb was never fearful. It is always the rappel. I have always found it mentally challenging to let myself walk backwards off the side of a mountain. (Imagine that?) After the long climb up and anchoring in at the top, Big Bro knew I would struggle and encouraged the others to go ahead. He was right. I was paralyzed. I saw this rap from down below and I knew it was a large over-hang. No wall to allow my feet to steadily slow my drop. It would be a free fall. On top of the fear, I was exhausted. The climb up had left me bloody from the stabs of jagged quartz crystals into my knees, thighs, and shoulders. My knuckles were in a sad state of their own.

As I hyperventilated while sitting next to Big Bro in the strong wind, I prepared my harness for rappel and tried to prepare my mind. I "practiced" several times. I walked the few feet to the ledge, turned back to face my instructor and crouched down. But I couldn't let go. Each time I crawled back up, with tears in my eyes and took my seat next to Big Bro. He was patient with each attempt but when it got to the point I was only psyching myself out even more, he looked at me and said "Well, you can't stay stuck here forever. You can go back through the pain of the way you came. Or you can push through the fear and go forward." I looked down at my wounds, now a swirl of blood, dirt, and sweat. I walked back to ledge, crouched down and this time, I let go. I wasn't just thinking too much into Big Bro's micro-lecture. He knew exactly what he was saying to me. As my friend, he knew of my struggles and the way I let myself get in my own way of accomplishing my goals. I will never, ever forget those words.

On today's date, three years ago, I got the call. I was busy packing up for a week-long vacation to my family's cabin. When I answered my phone in a cheery "Hey girl!", my friend broke down in sobs. She knew from the sound of my voice, that she would have to be the one to deliver me the crushing news. Big Bro had been on a mountaineering trip up North. He was on lead when a large chunk of ice fell out from beneath and took his life with it. I dropped the phone and screamed a noise unrecognizable as being human. Hours later, I zombie-walked to our micro-brewery to exchange the embraces and camaraderie of being shattered. Our friend, teacher, mentor was gone. Most devastatingly, there was now a young family left without their loving husband and father.

Oddly enough, the last time I can remember being truly at peace in my life was during the first year after Big Bro's death. Though the pain was crippling at first, it was fresh. It was always on my mind. Just as he had been a big brother to look up to, I wanted to be a little sister he could be proud of. I didn't have any demons to distract me. I focused on my work and my health. I set and attained many little goals. I continued to climb, while picking up new hobbies. I was happy, healthy, and comfortable in my skin. If I ever was stuck in a difficult situation, I would ask "What would Big Bro do?" and I would feel guided into making the best decisions for myself.

If Big Bro were here today to have observed the last couple of years, he would look at me with his zen-like expression and tell me to pull my head out of my ass. I have let myself once again get stuck on an exposed ledge. I down climb a ways into the painful route behind me, then back up to where I can be temporarily comfortable. Until recently, I haven't been moving forward. He would likely be glad to see me making some progress and evolving. He would likely encourage me to keep the forward momentum. To not let fear or insecurity determine my actions. To enjoy each morning like it is my last. To love the ones I love like I might not see them again. To spread the joy and compassion to every creature around me.

That is precisely what Big Bro would do. 

Progress?

Perhaps.

During the beginning of my self induced hiatus, I had a four day weekend from work. I originally requested vacation time to attend a trip out of state to celebrate a friend's birthday. Unfortunately, that was the first of many sacrifices I made when deciding to distance myself from my current spending and consumption habits. I did conclude however, that four days away from my regular responsibilities might do me some good so I decided to not retract my time-off request. However, the first half of my stay-cation went catastrophically out of plan.

That Friday, I somehow managed to get myself stuck with babysitting a relative's two kids. All fucking day. For free. By the time Sister came to relieve me of my duties, all of my friends were already out and about. And at one point, I felt down-right, intentionally excluded from the opening party of a friends' restaurant. I moped around my apartment, alone and feeling quite sorry for myself, yet looking forward to the early morning hike I had planned with a friend. Unfortunately, that friend just didn't show. I had gear packed and ready, a picnic prepared, fresh gas in the car, and sat outside. Waiting. And waiting. Finally, an hour after our agreed upon meeting time, I resorted to taking My Boy on an angry walk around my neighborhood.

Two full days of sitting on my ass, alone to wallow in my self-destructive brain was not how I wanted to spend the first half of my time off work. I knew that would be a dangerous place to be. I sat around thinking how I wish my life were different. What pieces of shit my friends can be. How if I made more money at my job, I'd be out having a blast with them. How I work too hard for such little money. How due to how hard I work, how precious and minimal my time off is. I began to panic. My life was slipping out of my hands, wasted, just as my four day weekend was. Over the course of a few hours, my thoughts became more cryptic and dark. I had a Mental. Fucking. Breakdown. At some point, while laying in the fetal position on my living room floor, I managed to push one speed dial button on my cell. After the voice on the other end answered, it took a few moments to catch my breath between sobs before I said the words "Dad. I need help. Please."

I have called my Dad crying many times in my years. He still, is sometimes the only person that can brush off my scraped knee and help me get back up. But something about the desperation he heard in me was different this time. He knew it was serious. This wasn't just a "I've had a bad day and the world is unfair" type of phone call. He knew what I knew. My depression has come to an ugly head and I can no longer fix this on my own. He agreed to help me get the professional help I need. Luckily, Dad has also been calling and emailing me to check in on a more consistent basis. I am ever grateful for this. I can feel abandoned by everything else in the world. But so long as I have his support and have him to stand behind me, I know everything is going to be okay.

Day Three of my four day weekend, I woke with a bit of a brighter outlook. At dawn, I took My Boy on a very long and slow walk all over our town. That evening, I met up with my neighbors to host a home cooked meal. The meditative state of cooking, the companionship of friends, and the sharing of delicious food helped bring my spirit back to life. By Day Four, I pushed my physical abilities on a strenuous alpine hike. As My Boy ran free in the tundra, my heart found a freedom of its own. I found myself laughing and acting silly with companions as we soaked in the UV rays of high altitude.

That hike brought on another interesting positive twist. I have started to develop a great friendship with one of my hiking partners from that day. I have known The Beast for a few years as a casual acquaintance among mutual friends. While I have always enjoyed our sporadic conversations and friendly banter, we hadn't known each other all that well. In the last few weeks, we have become great hiking companions. I am comfortable in my head while I am in the presence of The Beast. As we spend longer and more challenging days in the woods together, our conversations are filled with substance. I have opened up to him about my "Turning Thirty and Wasted Twenties" anxiety. Turns out - he's been through the exact same thing. When The Beast reached this pivotal point in his life, he too retreated into a walkabout to find himself. He simply "gets" that there are just some things in our hearts that can only be healed from being in the mountains. In turn, I have found hope in knowing that though I may feel abandoned by some of my closest friends, I am building a bond with a new friend who not only knows what I am going through, but also supports me without judgement.

Of course, whenever two people of the opposite sex spend time together, the Gossip Wolves get hungry. And while I may be in a dark place and have zero business getting romantically attached to someone, I would be lying through my sad teeth to say there are no flirtations exchanged between us. He is kind, funny, smart, ambitious, healthy, smoking hot, and most of all - happy. Our hikes have slowly started to be followed by beers (in moderation) and dinners at my house. The time on the clock when he heads home gets a little later each time. If the nature of our friendship continues to evolve, I would welcome the advancement. Yet at present, I am most happy to have a consistent and reliable friend to share my tundra with.

In recent days, my smile has become little less forced and my eyes have regained some of their twinkle. It could be the increasingly regular time spent with The Beast. It could be the lack of drinking, binging, and frivolous spending. It could be the quiet in my heart that is found from removing the things that hurt. It could be a combination of it all. Today, at this moment, it is good.

On Being Grounded

My family very much values strength and a certain level of toughness. All of life's problems are made out to be simple with very simple solutions:

• You just had your heart broken? Meet someone else.
• You're depressed? Get over it.
• You're broke? Work harder. Make more money.
• The dog's sick? Shoot it.

Hell, even when I had a miscarriage years ago - While sitting on my bathroom floor, losing so much blood I thought I'd need a transfusion, I called my Dad first. He told me to NOT go to the hospital. That it would be a waste of money. Issues or problems in my family are simply considered a weakness. We are able to fix everything ourselves, so to acknowledge any different is pointless.

I don't really know how to ask for help. And I feel that all the times I have, help has been rejected. Which is precisely why I talk to myself, write on this blog, and neurotically lean on my friends to help me sort things out. There is one thing that I have been so ashamed of that I have kept it buried for over a decade. No one knows about it. Not Sister. Not Bodhi. Not Robo. Not Trinity. And definitely none of the demons. I have a binge eating disorder. It started, as pretty much all of my other issues did, after the accident. For the last thirteen years I have dealt with my paranoia, depression, loneliness, and anxiety by stuffing my face with whatever bad-for-me food I can find. I will literally clean out my refrigerator in one night. And if I don't have what I am craving to satisfy the binge, I will get in my car at 3am to go find it. Two nights ago, I ate two (whole) frozen pizzas, three large bars of expensive chocolate, and twelve slices of Kraft singles, finished with four ice cream drumsticks. In the time it took to watch two hours of Ted Talks.

But I don't purge after a binge. I punish. When I am finally so full, I cannot fit anything more down my throat, I go weigh myself on my bathroom scale. Then I lay in bed, telling myself how fat, ugly, and undeserving of love I am. I then proceed to "counter" the calories consumed during the binge by starving myself for a day or more. I will get to the point I am so weak, I cannot get out of bed until I either binge again out of hunger, or attempt to drown my emotions with beer. (Which of course, leads to getting black out drunk from drinking on an empty stomach). These "episodes" usually occur a couple of times a year. Depending on my mental state at the time, they can be a one-off misstep that happens one time and I get over it. Or, it can be a cycle that goes on for a month or two. This time, the cycle started somewhere around the time I lost My Girl. For a few months, I had been losing weight at a steady and healthy rate (as well as staving off any binges), through closely monitoring my diet and exercise. I was regularly finding myself in the hills, hiking with consistent partners, and my spirits were high. Then, life just happened and the spiral down to binging followed.

As I have said before, the beauty I am finding in this blog project is I am forced to face the ugly and horrible truths I keep buried and hidden from view. By posting these intimate details to the universe, I have to acknowledge that it is real. I also have to release it and let the burden start to slowly leave me. Life is not happy for me because I don't let it be. Face it, my life is a cluster fuck right now. I have so much negativity inside of me, there is little room left for happiness, joy, or love. I have less than five months left in my twenties and if I am going to begin my thirtieth year with a more stable foundation as I set out to do, I have to get to work. Professional help may be out of my reach, so the only person I can count on to fix me, is me.

I recognize that at this moment in my life, my biggest depressor (and instability trigger) is my lack of financial stability and what it is doing to my social life. My friends and loved ones work very hard to afford their luxuries and should rightfully enjoy them. But while they are attending concerts, music festivals, mini-vacations, movies, brewery crawls, yoga workshops, dinners out... I am alone. I work very hard too, and in a fair and perfect world, I would be joining them. But as we all know, the world is not perfect, and certainly not fair. Often times, friends will offer to spot me. But this generally makes me feel even worse about my situation. Pride is something I have little of, but shame is something I am have in excess. I find that I generally have two choices: Have a social life and go broke, or save money and be lonely. I almost always choose the former. I now realize I will never reach my goals continuing on this path.

I have to buckle down for a little while, perhaps even a few months, just to build some better habits within myself. I have to get my eating disorder under control. The emotional toll is becoming worrisome. The hurtful things I tell myself become more brutal the longer it goes on. I have also got to get my finances in order. Sure, I don't make the salary I should or deserve, but I have to figure out how to live comfortably and securely with what I have. I have re-enlisted in my diet and exercise plan and I have started to track my daily spending. So far, my research has proven I can look forward to missing out on most (if not all) of the "extra" activities with my loved ones. I just hope that when I come out the other side, they will not have forgotten who I am.

Face Plant to Freedom

So...um...yeah. Phoenix is sort of fucked up. I will spare you the play-by-play but here's the gist:

Last Saturday, after way too much inhebriation at a friend's party, Phoenix offered to walk me home. During the walk, some drunken slurs were made from both sides. Ultimately, he became downright nasty and mean. His behavior and his words actually scared me. It was as if he turned into some sort of vicious stranger.  He wound up leaving me to find my way, disoriented in the middle of an unfamiliar neighborhood, at two in the fucking morning. Who does that? Seriously. What kind of stand up man in his Thirties leaves his female friend to fend for herself, lost, at two in the morning?

In a way, I am relieved by it at this point. Though our conversations and bond appeared to be growing, we never became intimate so I do have that to be thankful for. And if I ever find myself struggling to divert my attention away from a particular someone, them behaving like a bipolar douche is sure to do the trick. I could sit here and over-analyze his every word, along with the drastic change in his behavior. But I really just don't care much. Anyone who can treat a person as awfully as that, is no person I care to get to know any better. I will admit that for me, there has been some awkwardness. I have been avoiding my regular haunt, as it is now his regular haunt as well. But that really isn't the end of the world either. For now, I need some distance from Phoenix. And not drinking so much (while saving a little bit of cash) isn't exactly a bad thing.

So, I'm free. And better off. For now.

It's Never That Simple

...but I am convinced there is nothing too much beer can't fix.

In my last post,I declared to the world that I was dropping my pursuit of Phoenix. Yeah, right. Two days after that, a group of us, including Phoenix, drank too much. It was the very first First Friday of summer in my small town. It is kind of a big deal. My town will take any excuse to party, even if it is something as simple as the first Friday of summer. We started at our usual happy-hour beer location and naturally, Phoenix showed his pretty head. He came right up to me before anyone else and did not leave my side the rest of the night.

Our group later found ourselves as part of the town party, streets barricaded and all. Of course, Phoenix and I were magnetically attached and after one (or two) too many beers, I flat out told him how much I love hugging him. He responded as if it were a challenge to see how much he could hug me in one night. My head was buried in his chest for much of the evening. I am not sure how we got on the conversation, but at one point, he mentioned something of a lady friend back home that he had been "on again, off again" with. Well, truth serum can be strong so the following conversation happened:

C: Can I ask you a question?
P: Of course.
C: Is your "on again, off again" thing the reason you have yet to make a move on me? Or are you just uninterested?
P: *Chuckle* It is definitely NOT that I am uninterested. I am very interested. And yes, that has been one reason. I talked to her when I went back home last weekend. She said she wouldn't commit to me so I should just start a new life here. But I am also slow moving at these things. And I am the new guy in town and you are the girl who knows everyone.
C: Okay, well we should hang out more then. Without our usual beer entourage. You know, have some pressure-free non-dates.
P: *Chuckle again* Yeah, I would like that.

And so it was. He walked me home that night, holding my hand. Rather than the usual stopping at the driveway to say goodbye, he wanted to come in to see and play with My Boy for awhile. We made plans to go out on Saturday (last night). We did. It was awesome. We also made plans for him to not only attend this week's community collaborative dinner at my abode, but also to contribute in it. In a few hours, we will be yet again, meeting at our usual spot. Still no kissing. Just holding hands and a lot of those wonderful, heart warming, hugs. I will take that.

End of a Pursuit

So I have been hanging out with Phoenix a few times a week for almost a month now.  And I have decided to drop my pursuit.  I am still crazy about him. But he has yet to take the bait. Really, this crush on him has proven more confusing every day. Like the desert climate, his affection for me can turn hot and cold in a matter of twelve hours.

Last week, he went on a road trip to get more of his belongings out of storage.  I did not expect him to be back until Monday of the long weekend.  On Sunday however, as a group of us were celebrating Robo's boyfriend's birthday over a BBQ, he shocked the shit out of me by appearing out of thin air just to my left.  My stomach turned with butterflies, the pounding in my heart could not be controlled, and as a my cheeks turned every shade of red, his lips curled into a smile that simply said "It is so good to see you."  He walked towards me and embraced me in the strongest and most comfortable hug I have ever felt.  His big arms fully engulfed me and his barrel chest was so solid.  In that moment, I felt safe and content.  Everything surrounding us disappeared. I felt deaf, as if the entire BBQ went silent at the sight of our reunion.  And perhaps it did. Mere moments later, a friends' husband walked up to us and laughingly told me to "wipe the shit eating grin" off my face.  I honestly missed this man in the five days I hadn't seen him.

This man that I have yet to kiss or even go on a proper date with. I actually missed him. Although the long drive had rendered him exhausted and as he said, comatose, he stayed at the BBQ long enough for one libation and to catch up on what that last few days had brought me. Perhaps that is one reason I am so smitten with Phoenix. Every time I see him, he asks about my day. And genuinely asks because he wants to hear. At the BBQ, he wanted to know everything, however menial, he had missed. When I asked of his trip, he did not really even care to elaborate more than "My friends wanted me to hang out one more night but I really wanted to come home.  I didn't even stop to rest."

Since the BBQ, I have seen Phoenix once for beers at our usual spot.  Tonight is a community collaborative dinner at my place. He is on the invite list and upon hearing about it, seemed thrilled. However, I have resolved if he doesn't make it, I am dropping my pursuit. Not to blow him off. But simply because I have thrown him much bait that he has yet to bite. When consoling my tears and helping my wonder if The Wrecking Ball would give up his addiction to continue his life with me, my Dad once told me "Men are simple. If he wants you, he will come get you. And he will do what it takes to have you." I am a firm believer in that. Every time I have ever made mental excuses for the behavior of men, I end up the pursuer and it never works out in my favor.

Sure, I have many wonderful friends that tell me "I have a good feeling about him", "He's just shy", "You might have to make the move".  But I just cannot bring myself to do more than I have. My original intention was to simply become friends with Phoenix. In which I have succeeded. He is now a member of my core group of friends. Because of that, I am afraid of a rejection that could result in awkwardness. So if friends is all it is, I have decided I am okay with that right now. Life was easier before I developed feelings for him. Time to free my brain and my heart onto inner pursuits. Besides, "just friends" can still give wonderful hugs.

Mass Consumption

I have found myself in a slippery slope as of late.  Between the constant distraction of trying to make Phoenix like me, the heartache of losing my dog, and the promise of impending summer, I have been majorly unproductive.  Instead of participating in one of my greatest joys and cooking for myself everyday, I have been eating out. (That might be because I haven't even bothered to go grocery shopping since putting My Girl down.)  Further, I tend to do this eating out after I've had one too many at the micro-brew stop.  Every damn day.  In the last few weeks I've gone to work hungover more times than I would like to admit.

Thus, I feel like a giant cow.  And not one of those cute, happy cows that make California Cheese.  A lazy, gross, cow.  Covered in flies and expelling methane gas. The cycle is familiar; I've been here before.  This shit leads to depression.  This version of myself is one I do not wish to reunite with.  This version of me is trapped, broke, tired, grumpy, paranoid, and not a fun person to be around.  This version needs to take a hike.  Literally.

 So today, I will make it through the last five hours of my hungover hell.  Starbucks and Del Taco will help me survive.  I will go home to snuggle My Boy.  Cook myself some real food.  Wake up tomorrow anew.  And if I go visit Phoenix for our happy hour, I'll do my damnedest to keep myself in check.  I need my friends to help keep me in line too.  To not let me go down that path.  I have  not yet strayed so far that I can't find my way back.

My entire adult life has been the familiar "1 Step Forward, 2 Back" routine.  Time to grow the fuck up and move on.

Struck by Lightning on a Clear Day

It is amazing what a difference a week can make.  Two Saturdays ago, I found myself at home after dinner with the parents, relaxing and blabbing on about how responsible I am. Fast forward seven whole days, and I'm taking shots of tequila with Trinity at my house, prior to taking more shots of tequila at the bar to commemorate Cinco de Mayo like the good Gringa I am.

Our itinerary of debauchery was well planned.  Through the course of about thirty emails last week, Trinity and I decided she would come to my town for the night.  She would meet me at our usual day-drinking micro brew spot before we ventured on to a sponsored block party our friend's band was playing.  Eventually, we would spend the rest of the night belting out Beastie Boys karaoke in memory of M.C.A.  Sounded like a great plan, one reminiscent of my earlier Twenties.  I only asked that I not wake up pregnant. We executed our plan fucking beautifully! Days later, we are still talking about how great it was to be so irresponsible for an evening.

Copious tequila shots were not my only irresponsible indulgence from the weekend though.  I have developed a crush.  A real, honest, omigodimsixteenagain, crush.  I have known Phoenix for a few weeks, as he is Robo's new neighbor.  He moved to my town less than two months ago, and is thus, the new (and yet to be tainted) guy in town.  Really?  A handsome man in my small mountain town that neither me or any of my friends have slept with?  Get the fuck out - I've hit a gold mine!  In all honesty, I wasn't thinking of him as a romantic partner when we met.  I know my group of friends can be a little clique-y, as if we are the cool kids on the playground.  So when I would see him venturing out on the town solo, I always made an effort to be friendly. 

However, the platonic nature of my feelings towards Phoenix came to a screeching halt this weekend.  As our quick greetings slowly started migrating to walking each other home, post happy-hour dinners, and spending hours on end with one another, people started to notice.  At first, I would respond to inquiries about our status with "It's not like that.  He's new here and I'm just trying to be friendly."  After many prods from my guy friend, Cowboy, I finally just said "Okay.  I admit it.  I have a HUGE crush on Phoenix."  I eventually let myself realize that as much as I try to fight it, I genuinely want to hang out with him.  Like, every fucking day.

At the present time, my little (or not so little) crush on Phoenix is just that.  There has been no holding hands, kissing, caressing, and certainly no fucking.  But our conversations have certainly drifted from just random "getting to know you" bullshit to more deep and meaningful things.  We talk about our families, our, pasts, our goals, our hopes for our futures, and most recently, what sort of things we like and dislike in relationships.  I feel that I may be sensing some mixed signals from Phoenix. We spend a LOT of fun time together, but his lack of physical forwardness confuses me into thinking that perhaps this attraction being mutual is a fleeting thought.  Cowboy on the other hand, says I have simply forgotten what it's like to be pursued by a gentleman: "Just because he hasn't tried to poke ya, doesn't mean he's not interested in ya.  Now gimme me a dip."

So now, here I am.  Obsessively checking my phone, tripping over myself when I hear it ring, asking Trinity to help me compose texts, and in general just over-analyzing every damn word or action I see from Phoenix.  How immature and irresponsible can I be?  But it sure is a lot of fun. Goddammit.  As I have said before, the last thing my life needs is a man to come around and fuck it all up.  My brain has more important shit to do.

Got My Robo Mojo Back

Last night, I had a wonderful time with my girl, Robo.  Like Bodhi and Trinity, Robo is one of  my wonderful friends that I simply cannot live without.  Robo too, is beautiful and bright.  But I would have to say her best quality is how genuine she is.  While kind and warm, she has this amazing "fuck it" attitude about her.  As a good Midwestern girl who is ever confident and secure in her own skin, Robo never tries to be someone she's not.  Her feet are planted firmly on the floor.  She is also the most honest person I know, and never sugar coats the truth.  Robo tells it like it is.  If someone is offended by hearing the truth or if someone has a problem with who she is, Robo says "Fuck 'em."  To Robo, life is just too damned short to worry about silly and superficial things.

Because of this, I feel most like myself when I am in Robo's presence.  She has the ability to make me relax and feel at home in my own mind whenever I am around her.  Many young couples, (understandably) value their privacy in the early stages of cohabitation.  Robo and her boyfriend, on the other hand, have a home that is warm and inviting.  There have been countless times the two of them have offered me their guest room, simply so I don't have to be alone.  I know that sometimes when I get down, I can be downright exhausting.  I can work myself into such a giant frenzy that I'm not even thinking clearly.  My words ramble the random jibberish going on in my brain.  Robo and her boyfriend never seem to tire of me.  And when they do, they certainly don't show it.  I love them for that.

When Robo returned after a two week visit with her family, I may have been just as excited to see her as her boyfriend was.  I needed some time with her.  To catch up and talk about what life has dealt each of the last two weeks.  But mostly just because I needed to feel more like me.  Few things can help me get there, than seeing this great friend of mine.  I feel so incredibly blessed to have her in my life.  I am so glad she's home.

Confession...

I am and old snob

I think I may be the only one of all my friends, not currently having a blast at my dear Trinity's keg party tonight.  Because I wanted to have dinner and play cards with my parents.  And I feel like an awful friend for it.  With the difficult times I have faced lately, Trinity has made a great effort to be present for me and to be a good friend.  I feel horribly guilty for not supporting her by being present at her party.

Now don't get me wrong.  If this party were for a birthday, graduation, house-warming, or otherwise monumental life milestone, I would be there.  But this is a theme party for the sake of having one.  And for me, that would turn into drinking for the sake of having hilarious stories to tell. Which is fine; it actually sounds like a lot of fun, and their theme is a beyond-great idea.  I just seem to be gaining different priorities these days.

I will be first to admit that I frequent my favorite beer establishment more than I should.  And I sometimes have more pints than I should, more often than I should.  One thing I have realized in this reinvention of myself is that evolving as a person, isn't about becoming Amish and never drinking or letting lose again.  It's more about finding a balance among health, responsibility, luxury and happiness.  Within that balance, I can't always do everything I want to do.  I can't go balls to the wall from 6pm on Friday to 11pm on Sunday anymore.  I have to be selective with when I allow myself to imbibe or have some "fun".  And when forced to make a choice with when I'm going to allow myself a little irresponsibility, damn straight, what I want to do, is going to be what I choose.

I guess this goes back to wanting to be a little selfish while insisting on doing activities that reflect me and my identity.  I am starting to discover that after years of neglecting my truest needs, it is time to to hone in on what is important to me and what makes me happy.  Tonight, what makes me happy is playing cards with the parents, coming home to read The Hunger Games, while knowing I will wake up tomorrow, without a hangover and capable of spending the day as a functional adult. It seems the older I get, the higher my family is on the priority totem pole.  I have felt fragile and vulnerable with life's recent events.  I desperately needed some time to hear the wisdom from my parents minds.  And feel the unconditional love of their hearts.

So it may be, that I have to be a shitty friend once in a while to keep myself on the road to where I want to be.  Does this personal evolution mean I am any better a person than my friends who are having a ball right now?  No.  Absolutely not.  But it does mean that I am a person than I used to be.

Lonely Girl

It has taken me a long time to write this post.  Over and over, I keep coming back to it because I find it hard to not only articulate everything into fluid sentences, but also just understanding for myself, what the hell in going on in my own head.  And every time I think I am about ready to publish, something else evolves that changes the story a bit.  Mentally, I am in a very weird position.  Spring has shown her pretty face. It is easy to be optimistic and positive.  And dare I say, downright fucking cheery with the warmth of the sunshine and smell of fresh life.

I'm also terrified.  Here is a little secret: I am afraid of being alone.  Which is interesting, as I am a person who very much values my solo time.  As I get older, it becomes much more important to get a good night's sleep and run a functioning 1-person household.  Just this week, I turned down a handful of social invitations because I truly wanted to do laundry.  It's the thought of being forced to be alone that scares the shit out of me.  In the event of a zombie apocalypse, I would probably just off myself.  Those big screen movies, where the protagonist  searches for other living humans the first forty minutes?  Yeah, that would never happen for me.  Upon learning that my comfort of companionship was gone, I would lose all "survival" instinct and find the quickest and easiest way to end it.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see how this fear formed.  Growing up, my mom wasn't really around in the way one would expect a mother to be.  Sister and I basically felt "abandoned".  Given the shit she put us through as vulnerable and impressionable kids, abandonment issues is the best we could hope for.  Sometime in high school, Sister went off to boarding school and Dad traveled for work.  My last two years in the nest were pretty much just me in a huge house on a mountain top amidst forty-five acres of wooded property.  As soon as I could get out and live on my own, I moved in with eight of my friends, where it was impossible to be lonely.  In my late teens and early twenties, I did everything I could to make sure I had a posse.  I hardly ever came home from work to spend an entire night to myself.  Eventually, I got a dog.  Surely I can't be lonely with a K9 partner with me at all times.  Somewhere along the way, I decided to be a functioning adult and embraced my alone time to take care of responsibilities.  I started finding the importance of enjoying the simple act of chilling the fuck out with a cup of tea in silence.  For years, I have lived alone.

Three days ago, my little apartment became a nursing home.  Perhaps "hospice" is the better word.  My sweet dog has been getting old for quite some time and it now seems our time together is slipping by at a rapid rate.  A quick trip to the vet to check up on some bladder control issues sent us home with five prescriptions, two of which she will need to be on the for the short remainder of her life.  In my experience, vets are not necessarily in the business to save you money.  Nor, do they ever advocate not vaccinating your pets.  So when he responds to my inquiry about renewing her shots with "I don't think you should worry about the vaccinations.  It would probably just be a waste of money.", that leaves me to believe even the vet doesn't think the dog is going to live much longer.

The last few weeks with The Writer have been very tense.  He has landed some new gigs that have significantly increased his work load, while I have been trying to really aim my focus on my own professional and personal goals.  This combination has left us with little time to spend with one another, and when we do get the chance, it becomes a battle of who goes to who's:  His place so he can keep catching up on work and we can rage it in the city?  Or my place so I can properly take care of the dying dog and we can play outside in the mountains.  This predicament has unfortunately, led to some bickering and resentment.  Things came to an ugly head last weekend but for now, we are working through the fragile state and trying to tough it out.

I am so proud that Sister is about to graduate college, and she is applying for jobs in her field.  One potential employer seems to be very interested in her.  In a far away city.  I would never for anything in the world, desire Sister to not pursue her dreams.  But the thought of her moving far away, and only getting to see her and my nephew a couple times a year, is heart-wrenching for me.  She may be a mom and a little more behaved than me, but she is still my baby sister.  And I still feel a need to fiercely protect her from all the evil things in this world.  I have also come to lean on Sister, particularly this last year.  She has been with me through every bit of heartache and turmoil.  The thought of her not being here when shit hits the fan again, terrifies the hell out of me.

Though they (for the most part) live less than twenty miles away, I rarely see or have much contact with my parents these days.  Our weekly phone chats and / or dinners have dwindled to more of a monthly occurrence.  My dad busted his ass all his adult life to provide for Sister and I.  My stepmother has graciously and lovingly risen to the challenge of being Mom and Grandma to a family she probably never expected to have.  Together they deserve nothing less than the chance to travel, renovate their vacation home, and relax with friends.  But in many ways, I miss them.  I still don't feel completely independent from them, at least in the emotional sense.  I'm not sure that grown children ever do.  With all their exciting adventures, enjoying the fruits of their labor, and getting Sister's future going, I guess one could say I feel a little "forgotten."   

As my anxiety about turning thirty builds, I cannot help but feel lonely and a little left-behind.  Many of my friends are getting engaged and married, or living with a significant other.  At the very least, working on long-term, healthy relationships.  I can't seem to outlast a relationship longer than a year.  Some of my peers are having children, and while dogs may be more my speed, these friends are welcoming new life while I'm saying goodbye to life of my "baby". I am rational enough to know that we will likely always outlive our precious pets, not every relationship is built to last, and loved ones often relocate for wonderful opportunities.  It is all just part of life and learning to cope with these realities is simply part of being an adult.

But what happens when the dog dies and Sister moves away for work?  What happens if The Writer and I decide to go our separate ways?  I fear that I will be alone, in my little apartment, waiting for the phone to ring, with some familiarity on the other line.  I hate the very thought of it.  I feel like I'm once again the blonde little girl who's Mommy doesn't want her and who cries when Daddy calls home from his business trip.

Now that I'm grown up, what happens to the Dog Lady with no dog?

Happy Birthday To My Bodhi

"Those who have the courage to undertake the profound change of attitude required to develop true compassion are called Bodhisattvas."

Today is Bodhi's birthday.  Bodhi is my dearest friend.  She is one of the most incredible and amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  She is my biggest fan and supports me in all that I do.  She encourages my craziest ideas and dreams.  Unless they are completely fucked up and would in some way, devastate me.  Then and only then, Bodhi kindly tells me to slow my roll.  In short, I would be completely lost and life would suck balls without her. 

Bodhi is stunningly beautiful inside and out.  But I know much of her beauty comes from her cracks.  She has suffered each ring of purgatory and fought tooth and nail to find her way out.  These cracks and scars are a testament to her strength and determination.  Through the compassion she has found for herself, she is able to spread her compassion and wisdom to everyone else she meets.  This is why I call her Bodhisattva.

As morbid and pathetic as it may be, I cannot be certain I would have survived my 28th year without her friendship and support.  The darkest moments in my life happened last spring.  I once even rushed myself to the emergency room, fearful of doing something stupid.  You all know what I mean; the details need no elaborating.  The point is, it was Bodhi's wisdom and courage and her ability to talk me off my ledge that saved me.  She helped me to realize I am not alone in this world.  We all have our demons.  And we all have the ability to pick ourselves up and fight.

Thank you Bodhi, for everything you do.  I love you more than words can tell.  Happiest of Birthdays to you, my dearest friend.

Mad World in a New Year

Happy 2012 everyone!

I am not big on the cheesy New Year's Resolutions thing.  I find that I will get on a kick of something then let it drop off the face of the Earth.  Of course, I then feel like shit about myself.  I find it safer to keep expectations low by not making any promises to begin with.  However, this blog project is all about getting my shit together before I turn 30.  In just a few days I will begin the last year of my 20's.  So hell, now is the best time to list my goals.  Call them New Years Resolutions, Birthday Resolutions or Life Resolutions.  In no particular order, here they are:

Be a better friend, sister, aunt, daughter, granddaughter, niece and coworker  
I firmly believe that all of us, even the Dalai Lama himself, can improve upon the way we treat those we love.  I live an incredibly lucky life due to the people that are in it and they all deserve the best of me.  With this comes:

• Keeping in touch via cards and handwritten notes, phone calls and face time (basically forms of communication other than Facebook.)
• Helping my coworkers without first giving the evil eye.  I am not actually a bitchy person, but I am sometimes certain I put fear into my coworkers.
• While I'm at it, I resolve to stop freaking out in general.  I can get very snappy when irritated.  Like a bomb.  Poor Sister probably gets the worst of it.  

Be a better Dog Mom
My sweet dog is getting up in years.  As of late, she has not been receiving the amount of attention she needs.  Sure, she is generally spoiled fucking rotten and her disposition of grumpiness and laziness part of her charm.  Still, she has been my best friend and the one to greet me every single day for the past 9 years.  Adopting and caring for her may be my proudest accomplishment of my 20's.  Sadly, she will not be with me forever.  It is my duty to return the favor and give her the best last years (or months) I can.

Take Better Care of My Body
Approaching 30, I am not exactly a spring chicken myself.  My physical health requires a little more upkeep than it did at 21. 

• Keep up on running, hiking and yoga routines.  I absolutely love these activities but one pull of an IT Band is enough to bench on my bed in front of Netflix for 6 months.
• For the love of all that is holy, FUCKING SLEEP!  My sleep routine (or lack of, rather) is much the root cause of many of my issues.  In all my 20's I have never slept enough.  I am finally too physically fatigued to enjoy life beyond the minimum.

Fuel My Passions
Full of great ideas right here!  Yet, also full of unfinished projects.  I just always find great excuses to not make them a priority.

• This blog project.  I simply love to write.  Staying current on this blog is important to me.  Having the whole wide world see my failure to do so is not an option.
• Finally starting the process of a foodie blog or some form of food writing.  Along with writing, I love food.  More than every contestant of every season of The Biggest Loser combined.
• Picking up books again.  I enjoy reading. Yet I have not made it a priority in quite some time. I was gifted with a beautiful new novel and indulgent bedding for Christmas this year.  I'm taking it as a sign the library gods miss me.
• Staying current and organized on my crafts and hobbies.  I rented my current apartment for the sole purpose of the bonus craft room.  That I hardly use because I have yet to organize it to it's full efficiency.  

Build a Small Financial Cushion
I am sick of being a broke ass.  When concerts, small trips and even just dinners out come around, I usually cannot attend due to lack of funds.  While most of us can't have everything we want, it is nice to afford small indulgences now and again.  Not having to choose between attending a friend's wedding or paying my rent would help to give me that sense of accomplishment I have been lacking these last 10 years.  

That is it.  Not too bad.  Like I said, I am not one to make the standard resolutions so I perhaps I am going easy on myself.  But it is a start to the last year of my 20's.  If I can do at least one of these things every day, I will feel my foundation getting stronger with each day.  Already writing this post, I feel a new found optimism and peppiness about this new year.