Caterwauling

My new view

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Ever the overachiever, it’s not enough for me to fail at one job … I have to bomb at three!

I think I’m a wee bit overcommitted right now. I really need the safety of multiple income streams. But I’m taking half-assing things to a whole new level. Why can’t THAT count as “excelling at something”?

Tomorrow is my very first payday in a year. Sweet merciful Jesus. Please, God, let me make a habit of getting those again!

What I really want is someone to talk to, and go out and have fun with. (And yes, I’m aware I owe ALL OF YOU a call, text, e-mail, smoke signal, gift, edit, article or whatever else.) Just, someone who knows everything and doesn’t need a backstory.

I lost that person this summer and I’m feeling the void. (Of course, I have also gained two hours a day that we’re not on the phone, so there’s my daily commute.)

Actually, I’m thinking it’s time to think about meeting someone special. Of course, every time I start to think about that, I put it aside and focus on everything else. Because, let’s face it, that means having to do some work on myself. And I’ve put off that work for WAY too long to keep delaying it.

I guess that would mean having to give up a job. Oh well. 🙂 It would be worth it, to have something to look forward to other than payday.

Even though I blather in this space about the New Job, I haven’t told all that many people about it.

I explained to some friends the other night that it’s my equivalent of a pregnancy. I am excited but I also do not want to jinx it. I do not want to find myself in the position of having to explain where it went should it happen to not work out.

So for now my social media status is still freelance. And I kind of like not having too many people know where to find me, you know? All anyone needs to know is that I will be OK.

I just wonder what it will take to make me feel secure. Probably a favorable annual review. Or a decade anniversary. 😉 Good thing I do not have a kid — I’d probably introduce it to the world when it turns 33!

Big paw

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Work is great. I look forward to starting my second week tomorrow. I could see myself being there for quite some time.

A whole lot of new expenses have just arisen, which makes me reticent to withdraw from all my income sources right now. So I’m exhausted all the time with a schedule that isn’t sustainable.

I figure, other people have kids; I have jobs. But why do I still feel so scared about money? How do other people do this?

I also have a little project that Mom and I do together sometimes. Now that I get out of the house daily, I do it on my own, too. It involves a little time and a little money, on a daily basis.

I’m sick of donating to a system that doesn’t take care of everyone who needs something. So I’m adopting my own little corner of the world to take care of.

I cry every day at how unfair life is for so many — truly I do. And sure, maybe I shed a piteous tear for myself in there sometimes. But even when things have been at their hardest for me, I’ve been able to pay forward some good, even if it’s just a little tiny bit.

Life’s been good to me. Even if I’m too paranoid to see it sometimes.

Mom reminded me tonight that I have a hard time feeling like I deserve anything good happening to me. I’m always looking for the bucket of water over the door frame, to ruin it all. Even though you’ll never meet anyone who tries harder than me, I always feel like I fall short.

It’s funny. I hoped and prayed so hard for this next phase of my life to arrive. And now that it’s here, the uncertainty has only just begun in earnest.

Oh well. I’m not the smartest person or the quickest learner or the most clever or creative, but I am the sincerest pumpkin in the patch. And I’ll do the best I can. Maybe someday, for someone, that will be enough. Perhaps even for me, too. …

Beachside Wedding Cake Tasting

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

There are things I just assumed were never meant for me, with a wedding being one. I don’t know whether I just assumed I didn’t have time for all that love business or that I’m just not bride material, but it never crossed my mind that I’d love (and want) the experience.

Says she who spent four years planning black-tie cotillions and can throw a fabulous party on any kind of budget.

I guess I figured I’d always be a working girl. I’d always have a kickass job, always be leading companies and hopping on airplanes to secure unprecedented partnership deals. I never thought I’d be stuck in the house for a year (of my own choosing, I know) and missing out on opportunities.

I think I’ve become one of those girls who wouldn’t mind being a, well, not a housewife. But the lady of the house.

And what bugs me about the last year is that I didn’t have any leisure time. I rarely went to the beach. I saw friends intermittently and caught a few movies and festivals. But I might as well have been a cubicle slave, for as little as I got to go enjoy the day somewhere else.

I say all of this to share this: I’m getting “married”!

Yes, the prince on bended knee finally put a ring on it. Our happily ever after begins Monday.

FUCK. YEAH.

You just never know if anything is the right decision. But I’m happy with the way things have turned out. And sure, I worry that they will turn out like the last time. But that’s a chance I have to take.

And in all of this, maybe it was attending a lovely wedding but maybe it’s being 37 too, I’d like to open myself up to the possibilities on that front. Work isn’t everything. I’ve been divorced from it for almost a year, and frankly I’d like to just date it for a while.

It will be good to get out of the house and have a reason to, if not exercise, then at least NOT consume fudge-covered peanut butter Oreos like the world is ending.

I mean, I’ll never be at my ideal weight. No one will ever look at me and say, “Mangia!” Unless they’re Italian of course, because everybody’s too skinny to them. 😉 (And I took Mom out to a celebratory Italian dinner last night — mmmmm, puttanesca.) But I felt like I needed a reason to take care of myself again, and if it’s having a job, then so be it.

Till then, I’m buried in freelance work, and my freelance employers want to keep me on in some way, which is nice. I like money. 🙂 But eventually I’d like to replace all the work with someone who can distract me from it. Let’s get us a REAL prince next time around!

So …

Not only did a beloved colleague leave this earth on Saturday, but it appears a friend from high school took his own life somewhere between yesterday and today.

The latter is unconfirmed at this point, but I know. I always wondered. I watched his Facebook posts and knew he had a dark sense of humor. But I always wondered whether he were masking something deeper. Yet, I know how annoyed I get every time I say something dark and suddenly everyone jumps on suicide watch. So I never really probed.

I guess I should have.

I’m in the throes of a very acute depression. Look, I know things aren’t great. But I know they’re really not all THAT bad either. All this death isn’t really helping matters, but it’s only the cherry on top of a shit sundae at this point.

The friend we learned about today … damn. Actually a nice, good-looking guy who plays in a band. I ran into him a couple years ago at a hardware store called Busy Beaver. My mother had been scared out of her wits by a giant beaver cut-out and told my friend, who was ringing us up, “Your beaver scared me!”

He and I had a good laugh. Go, Mom. 🙂 He looked good. (I’m a sucker for the long-haired dudes.) He seemed happy enough, working a less-than-stimulating job that freed up his nights to play in his band.

Happy enough, indeed. Aren’t we all, though?

And now I’m seeing all these trite, trite messages posted on his Facebook wall. Sure, you can tell the heartfelt ones. He had some good friends, you can tell. But all the bullshit about “it gets better” and “I wish you would have called me,” I have to say, “Really?”

I mean, when I get down in the dumps and I get those lines, I roll my eyes. Fuck you, you don’t know the whole story. Screw you, just let me work out my sadness and I’ll be OK. Or, really, happy-positive “it’ll be OK” person? Are you just gonna shit some sunshine my way and keep on flying so you don’t have to hear what may or may not be behind whatever hunk of crap I spewed at a particular moment?

I’m not saying this about my friends, mind you. Just, when you open yourself up via social media, you get those people who don’t know you and never will … people who pat themselves on the back for crapping out some platitude … people who credit themselves with saving you from some abyss that you may not even have been contemplating?

I know, I’m going all over the place here. Yes, I have depression and it’s a little more intense right now than usual. No, I’m not jumping off the balcony. Yes, I’m going to say I’m ready to jump. Maybe I’ve contemplated it. No, I could not hoist my pudgy pork roast butt over the railing right now. Yes, I’m hanging in there for better days. No, I don’t know when they’re coming. Yes, I’ve talked to God about everything, and thanked Him for all His grace up till now and the grace I’ll receive in the future.

Anyway, I guess what I AM saying is that I’ve never been one to say the right thing to someone’s family when they die, because I don’t know what to say. Nor have I been particularly good at mitigating suicidal thoughts of others. I’m the friend you call when you want to vent about how bad things are without me interrupting too much. I’ll shoulder the load with you. I’ll share my hope that this ain’t as good as it gets. And I’ll tell you I love you no matter what your heart says to do, and that my phone is on any old time you need it.

A friend recently mused to me that she’s never really witnessed anyone showing me any sort of kindness. That made me sad. (Like I wasn’t already.) But I didn’t have the words at the time to say, no actually, I’ve gotten more favor than I’ve ever admitted. Sure, I’ve got shat upon … more than my fair share, there. But the blessings balance everything else out. You just tend to remember the hurts more because they seem to last longer.

Anyway, I like that “happy enough” thing. Between last night and today, three friends called out of the blue to give me an “atta girl.” They know me. They know I’m super-sensitive these days. They also don’t b.s. me. They’re not telling me “it’ll get better.” They’re telling me, “You will make it better.” We know the hand of fate is just as likely to deliver a bitchslap as it does a pat on the back. All we can do is buck up and live to tell our story one more day.

As one friend said, “Each day is wonderful. Some are more so than others.” I liked that.

Today is less wonderful than others. But it’s not terrible. Like I said, I heard from some wonderful people from my past, and not just by phone but also e-mail. The extended family is drawing closer together again. We lost one of our own and we need to know the others are OK.

And now, the high school friend. I don’t think I could have said or done anything to change his mind. But my heart does wonder whether I could have done something … stayed in touch or said a kind word that would have changed everything.

Naturally, I know there’s no turning back now and, even so, nothing little would have changed such a big outcome.

I’m just feeling small and helpless tonight, partially about the events in my own life but mostly about Everything Else. I can change my destiny. I still have time and the ability. Maybe I’ll never be ecstatic about my life. But happy’s OK. I’ll take it.

I’ve often said that I decided to move to Florida in big part because we lost Leanne. Now that we’ve lost Chip and Lynn, maybe I’ve just found my reasons to fight to stay. I love it here. I want to make it here. I’m tired of running away. I’m perfectly happy where I am. Now all I need is that thing to fight for that will keep me where I finally and truly want to be.

O HAI Mother Nature’s wrath on the D.C. Suburbs

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I had Big Plans for this blog this weekend. And then with a phone call from an old friend today, everything changed in an instant.

One of my beloved colleagues died yesterday. I would say “passed away” but he would have pulled out a stylebook and corrected me on proper word usage, so I wouldn’t dare use a euphemism here. 😉

This photo was a view from our office just outside D.C. Well, it wasn’t *our* view, as we were in another corner of the building, separated by the “hedge” of a shared cubicle wall … or, as he referred to it, a corral. He had a point there!

My friend who reached out to me, knows I’ve been going through Some Shit these past few weeks. And she reminded me that everything is all just Stupid Shit, and today’s news proves it.

Tonight I’m going to pour myself a nice stiff drink in honor of our friend. And I’ll try very hard not to think about how he was just two years away from retirement. Nor will my mind wander too far as I contemplate how he was hanging onto a similar career that I fight so hard to claw my way back into. Was it worth it for him? Is it worth it for me? Who knows.

I’ll be praying for my charming old friend tonight, and his extraordinary wife and their fantastic kids. It was hard enough when our beloved department was disbanded and we were all flung to the four corners of the company. But we’re all still “out there,” you know? We all still call and e-mail and keep our family intact as much as we can. No one has exited stage left before, though. This is a first, and I don’t like it one bit.

I’ve been sad all weekend about the steaming shitpile my own life has become. But then again, it always was one. Of course, I did come to an epiphany this weekend, that I can’t stand up and fight for what my mom needs because I’ve never stood my own ground to fight for ME.

I did that last week, though. I said “Enough!” and made it so. It may cause more harm than good down the line, but right now, I’m healthier than I have been since the end of August. Maybe by picking my own battles, and knowing which ones to leave the hell behind, I’ll do better as an advocate for my mom. Can’t do any worse, at this point.

And now that my buddy is gone, it really reminds me that life can be a joke sometimes, but it’s also just a moment in the grander scheme of the universe. There’s always tomorrow, so we waste our todays, thinking there’s an infinite amount of time just waiting for us to use. Not so much, eh?

Rest in peace, friend. I’m better for having known you, and luckier still for becoming a part of your extended family … and having you in mine.

Yellow Brick Road

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Well, I asked God for a sign about my life, as I took a shortcut to Costco, and here’s what I saw. Follow the Yellow Brick Road, indeed.

I have had a very, VERY stressful few weeks. And today, I let that stress go. I wasn’t sleeping or eating or doing anything other than mainlining coffee and smoking.

Today I ate. (My mommy is the best cook, yo.) Today I also let go of something that promised to be great but isn’t a good fit for me right now, for reasons I will explain in a blog post in about a year from now. 😉

I took a big leap of faith. And I fell flat. And it’s ugly. But, I promised mom we will be OK. Because I haven’t been anywhere near strong or functional for her, and she needs the “good” me right now. I’ve been unable to give her that for too long, and now that I WANT to be good for/to her, I can’t do it the way things are now.

I have a list of “What’s Important” taped on the wall next to my computer. It’s seven simple goals that, if I am not working toward any of them at any given time, then I need to change my direction. The end.

Well, since those seven things are all sitting there, staring at me quizzically every single day, it’s time to stop averting my eyes.

I don’t know where my Yellow Brick Road is, let alone where it will lead. But now I’m inspired to go find it … and after a small healing period I’m allowing myself, I’m going to go hunting for it.

Balls

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So I went to the doctor yesterday. And hoo boy, was my BP over-the-top. I think the first number was like 180 over 210 or something.

The funny part was, I don’t get nervous at doctor’s appointments, beyond that moment where they run the debit card to take the co-pay, of course.

It’s kind of a funny story if you’re into seeing me in anguish. (Which, you know who you are. *waves*) They took my pressure probably four times and WOULD NOT LET ME DRIVE HOME until it was at a reasonable level.

The funny part was that it was probably the only non-pregnancy-related panic attack at any gynecologist’s office in all the lands!

Oh, but wait. There’s more!

So, they stuck me in a room to CHILL THE FUCK OUT. And, oh, FORGOT ABOUT ME.

Yep, my doctor got called out to deliver a baby. So about an hour goes by and someone sticks her head in like, O HAI, yeah, your doctor left. And I hadn’t even gotten my schmear yet!

*thunk*

All told, a 10-minute appointment clocked in at about two and a half hours. Maybe it was three. I totally lost count.

But wait, there’s more!

Went to close out my savings account right after that. And went into a hysterical laughing fit as the cashier handed me CHANGE. My savings was in COINS. I know it’s not funny, but I’ll let you know where I end up spending my 67 cents!

One of my beloved readers gently reminded me to start using the Law of Attraction already and quit attracting bad upon bad. I’ll do my best to shove a ray of sunshine up my butt next week, I promise!

Actually, the good news is that I forgot to eat for a couple of days. Whee cigarettes and coffee — down four pounds without even trying!

See? I can be positive! C’mon universe, let’s call this the beginning of a great streak and keep it up!

Edge of the World

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Today’s headline was stolen from last week’s newsletter from my old church in Maryland. And after a week of practically mainlining old anti-anxiety pills I’d stashed in the freezer for such an occasion, I realize that what matters ISN’T all this.

What matters is that I end up in Key West (pictured, Garmin-style) or thereabouts. That I don’t have to panic about money even though I’m working my ass off. That I don’t have to deal with people who think they “know editorial” because they took an English class.

I want to write books, damn it. Fictional, beach-reading novels and leadership non-fiction. And I want to trade. I mean, I know a whole lot about the markets and every conceivable strategy to make money from them. All I need is money to get started!

I have a very tiny sum stashed aside as my emergency fund. And when anybody asks me for a “hot stock tip,” I tell them not to trade with money they can’t live without. And this month, I have to bust open my iddy biddy widdle nest egg to pay the rent.

One could argue that, sure, I could have invested that money and it would have been worth twice what it is. Or, seeing how the markets are in a downward spiral and have been since August (and will be until the Eurozone gets its finances in check), I could have had nothing to fall back on except homelessness and broken dreams … dreams that already have been slimmed down like a fat girl on a diet.

I agonized a lot this week. Worked my ass cheek off. WORRIED my other ass cheek off. Lost a lot of water weight in tears. Replaced that lost water weight with Guinness. 😉

Yesterday I had to walk away and have a damn weekend. It was glorious. Today it’s back to the digital salt mines, but there’s a reason why God wants us to rest. It’s called perspective, and getting some.

A friend asked me the other night what I’d do with myself if I hit the lottery. That’s easy. Get a car that isn’t a rattling deathtrap, buy a house in the Keys, sign up as a foster parent and start trading and either prove everybody right who thinks I’m good, or lose my risk capital and have to go back to work.

I’ve been in contact with a lot of key people in my field this week. And at a time when I’m feeling low because my editing ability came into question (I know, right?), it feels good to have the ear of key CEOs and executive VPs all over the country.

Anyway, to answer the question of what’s important to me, really, I want a job I love and a regular paycheck. I want to trade or do freelance on the side so I’m not worried what happens if the job goes away. I want my mom to be healthy and happy so I don’t have to worry about her as much. And I want to live in a place that brings me more joy than nightmares.

I’d say those are the beginnings of a life plan, right there.

Harvest moon

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

My weekend took place from exactly 12:34 p.m. yesterday till 7:02 a.m. today. I was also awake the previous night with panic attacks (that were unrelated to 9/11). And even though I just had coffee, I have officially hit a wall. *thunk*

Today was a good day. (So, of course, was yesterday. Thanks to those who made it possible!) We need a bunch more of these and a whole lot fewer of the prior seven days around these parts.

I’m having a weird time adjusting to working with people who are fine with blogs and social media, and who follow me there. That means I can’t fire off a cryptic status update that coincides with the time stamp of a received e-mail. Damn! 😉

Of course, I’m also re-learning my place in the (albeit home-based) workplace. I hate meetings more than anything else on earth. But give me a never-ending e-mail chain that’s cc’d to four of your six e-mail addresses, and toss in multiple status calls to boot, and I’d take a regular face-to-face meeting any old day of the week. (Just not EVERY day of the week!)

I found an old note to myself from the job I loved the most. And it reminded me that there is no such thing as a job that doesn’t invoke fantastical images of crime scenes and me grinning wildly while wielding a bloodied butcher knife.

I can still remember what made me write this simple note:

8/24/05

“Coming off the I-270 ramp today, I lost my shit. I emitted several wracking sobs. Oh, God.

“Well, at least, it took eight months. At my last job, it was about two months in that I got violently ill every single morning. And there, it never really abated.

“I’ll be OK. This too shall resolve itself. I refuse to concede defeat. Damn it.”

That was the last entry in that particular journal, which still has a good 200 pages that have remained empty all these years.

Things did get better, thanks for asking. It really was just a bad run. Not like other places where the milk turned sour and everyone continued force-feeding you the curdled crap till your soul died and you had to grab the paddles to muster up just enough life in you to leave.

I feel like I needed to see that note right now. I think it reminded me that you see relatively the same cast of characters everywhere. And that I needed to return to my roots for a minute to remember who I was, and what my goals were. Which is simply to smile, keep going, rack up as much experience as I can and always try to be A better person, if not THE better person, whenever possible.

I’m still looking to God about what to do next. But that’s what’s different this time around. I’m not digging in my heels and making it work if it kills me. If it does, then great. If not, the world doesn’t end. It never did, and it won’t if I don’t let it.