Crisis

There’s one reason that stands out to me as to why I’ve lasted as long as I have with the job that I do. I have what I would consider a somewhat admirable ability to remain relatively okay and keep it mostly together in a serious crisis. Only when it’s serious though. Put me in front of something seemingly small and it’s usually enough to derail me. I’ve done a lot of thinking as to why this is (because really…it’s pretty backwards) and I’m grateful that my P was able to put it in words for me that I agree with. It’s a product of growing up in a household where crisis was sort of routine. You eventually learn to cope with it in somewhat of a stride because if you don’t you end up crashing every single time someone gets hit, or hurt, or abused. Sometimes as a result, it’s the seemingly small stuff that can tend to cause abnormal anxiety and distress (which needless to say, can be incredibly frustrating on a daily basis).

This is not to say that I don’t cry if, for example, a family member ends up in the hospital; but truth be told the malfunction of being used to crisis seems to allow a grace period of getting through it without breaking down. This is good in its own way, but also bad. What it really means is that the breaking down doesn’t come until later…sort of like a rubber band that has been stretched for days and is finally allowed to give way.

I’m still on the fence as to whether this is good in the long run or not. Is it better to just initially break down and get it over with? Or is it better to hold it all together in crisis mode only to end up completely drained and in tears when things calm down?

Down memory lane

I can drive from downtown Seattle to Everett via Aurora (aka hwy 99) and back and it literally is a trip down memory lane. All it takes is that stretch of “highway” (it is still called “highway” even though the city of Shoreline f-ed up their part of Aurora recently with it’s big britches). It’s fascinating to me, and the first time I noticed it was driving with my mom after her hair appt on the last holiday weekend up to Lake Stevens.

I noticed it again today on a trip to Shoreline for some errands, however I noticed it going southbound. The section between about 205th to approximately 85th is representative of high school and a short time after. As I’m driving that way I can think to myself (in no particular street numbered order): that’s the bar that Colin snuck Audrey and I into because he knew the bouncers although it isn’t called by the same name anymore…that’s where my mom began to find her freedom again and I was happy that she was doing so…that’s the Denny’s that we used to hang out in until wee hours of the morning drinking coffee and smoking and enjoying each other’s company because we were teenagers and wanted to feel like we were going out somewhere…that’s where my family and I spent a lot of time dancing and having fun hanging out together…that’s the restaurant that we went to after my high school graduation…that’s the drug motel that I went to after making the poor choice to accompany someone to pick up their strung out friend…that’s the restaurant that we went to for a birthday when my dad dressed up in his fruit o’ the loom grape costume (which at the time sort of embarrassed me because I, and Audrey who accompanied us, were teenagers at the time)…that’s the bar I went to for my 21st birthday after dinner at Red Robin (where I had my first legal drink as an adult with my dad and sisters) and had to be carried out by my ex and his sister because everyone in the bar knew my sister and bought me shots all night and I was dumb enough to drink them…that’s the auto shop that Audrey took her car to one day and it was a good day because I clearly remember singing along to songs in the car with her and having a smashing good time doing something mundane…that’s the place, and that’s the place, and so on.

For me, going anywhere north of 205th usually reminds me of not so good times. That’s the section that leads up to Everett. From 205th on I’m usually thinking things like: that’s the parking lot that I hid out in when trying to drive away and hide from a gruesome fight with G…there’s 112th which is the street that my apts used to be on which just happened to be the same street on the other side of Aurora that G decided to move to one of the times I tried to break up with him…there’s the car dealership parking lot where we had another fight that was horrible…there’s the motel he was staying at where I was stupid enough to be visiting him (foolishly thinking that if it wasn’t my place that we were at I could control whether I left or not when he freaked out a whole lot better than I could control him leaving my place if/when the same happened) where we had a fight a morning before going to work where I saw stars and thought I might pass out because he hit me so hard…there’s the bar that J and I went to the first year that I knew him and it was my birthday…there’s the restaurant J and I went to one random day and had a really nice time…there’s the street that I would take a right on from hwy 99 to get to where I was staying with J for a while…that’s the place, and that’s the place. To be quite honest, sometimes I would rather just not drive on that road at all.

Capitol Hill often reminds me fondly of high school as well even though Minnie’s is not on Broadway anymore (because often in high school we could also be found there; of course we were also there more often than not in our later teen and early twenty’s years as well)…unfortunately Capitol Hill/First Hill is also the birthplace of a more recent unpleasant memory. A memory that for some reason that I still can’t fathom was brought up by a friend in front of mixed company twice last night seemingly out of nowhere. It was seriously like being in the twilight zone and I had zero idea on how to handle it properly.

There’s one thing I do know…there are some things that I am really not handling all that well and I’m sure that most of it has to do with stuff that has been long lived in my life, all tied up in relationships and family and friends. There are tidy terms to sum up the actual behaviors (even though carrying out these behaviors is not all that tidy of an operation; anyone would agree that the feeling of drowning a bit is not very tidy)…ISOLATING is one of them, POOR CHOICES is another, RUMINATING is a creative one that I’m pretty fond of. I figure I might as well provide the words with capitol letters to grammatically reflect the power that they seem to have in real life.

 What it all boils down to is that one of the important TASKS on Monday morning will be to start seeing a counselor again.

Sometimes it’s necessary, and this is one of those times. Thankfully I’m one of those that needs to go through a period of MALFUNCTION and UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR before I wake up and realize what needs to happen (and of course, I write that with a sarcastic undertone to it).

W. T. F.

1. If someone had ever told me that one day a friend would say that I had been ‘too nice’ during an interaction with a male (more specifically an email or letter) I would have laughed so hard I might have peed my pants. But that’s exactly what I was told this weekend. Usually I tend to be a little too harsh especially if I’m writing something and have time to think about what to say.

In response to a lack of response from a friend regarding a not-so-recent-anymore incident I wrote an email. I finally decided to write the email after being surprised a couple of times that I thought of the situation (only to immediately become irritated that I was thinking of it). I didn’t intend to ‘be nice’ necessarily; nor did I set out to be inappropriately unkind. I just wanted to tell the truth about how I felt and I did so. Short, uneventful story, I’m sure.

However, there is also the small matter of my need to have things analyzed…even after they’ve been sent or given. I have an almost obsessive desire for second (and sometimes third) opinions, mostly to answer the question of whether I was fairly reasonable or not in the expression of my thoughts and/or feelings. Kait was kind enough to be the editor this time. After she read it she looked at me as if to say…really? When she said, “okay…that was way too nice” all I could do was stare in confused disbelief. Well I’ll be. For once, I was “too nice”. For the record, I still haven’t put a judgment on it…I just said how I feel. The main reason I had someone else read it was to confirm that I wasn’t horribly irrational or unreasonable.

2. Jen’s birthday is tomorrow. Not that I ever got that jazzed about cinco de mayo as a holiday per se, but the thought occured to me the other day that if I ever wanted to be, it’s sort of ruined a bit. Not that I care about that part of it really…it’s that odd sort of thing that strikes you that you never thought might strike you.

3. After some recent contact from someone that used to be in my life I have done some pretty significant searching and pondering of myself. The other day I had a pretty good conversation about it with my best friend Kait. We talked for a while about fear, about relationships, and about sharing ourselves with other people. It’s hard to trust somebody, especially if you weren’t taught to be ready to trust someone. She said something to me, and if a sound was attached to it, the sound would be like a big huge gong resounding in my ears…(not exactly word for word) she said something to the effect of, yes we look at relationships in the filter of ourselves, but the important part of them is to realize that it’s about someone else’s life too, not just ours. We should protect ourselves, but we should also be cognizant of the fact that someone else’s issues, and fear are also a huge part of the equation. It’s hard to remember that when we’re in it. I have realized two things:

1. During the most significant intimate relationship in my life thus far I demonstrated the highest amount of fear that I possibly could have. There’s a few reasons for that.
2. The last time that I remember feeling as if I wasn’t completely alone, was during that relationship. As a sort of disclaimer, I routinely realize that I’m not alone…I have some absolutely wonderful friends and family. But when it comes to that feeling that you have a companion that’s on your side no matter what…it’s been a while since I felt that way. And this was a grave thing to realize. I’m not quite sure what to do with it to be quite honest. I regret that I felt the most fear in that relationship because as my Kait reminded me, the most important thing to remember in a relationship is that the little things don’t matter…at all…and in my most recent really long relationship I focused solely on the little things because I was too afraid to really put 100% into it and trust it. It’s a humbling thing to think about.

My P feels strongly about the following quote and I now realize why:

 I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. (Frank Herbert)

There are a lot of things that I need to get over.

 

 

Importation

I don’t know why I did it…but do it I did.

I have finally imported all of my livejournal posts into my wordpress blog. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea…maybe it is just black and white proof that at one point I was sort of crazy (more than now), making bad choices, and a little dramatic. But maybe, just maybe, it’s worth reading. I don’t know.

I know one thing however…today was one of the most stressful, overwhelming days I’ve had thus far in my 31 years of existence. I can’t even give a good explanation of why except that things just built up, and built up today which caused me at one point to be reduced to helpless tears. They built up to the point where every little stressful thing simply added to the big ball of things threatening to crush me flat. I spent some time talking to a good friend; somehow my good friend and I got on the subject of families, childhood, and blogs…all in one big complex bunch. I ended up regaling her with tales of my dramatics as a younger me; which made me realize that I had never finished importing my livejournal entries…only because I told her about the really long story of my epic unhealthy relationship that I felt the need to post.

At the time I was telling her about it to express (in a small sort of way) that I felt odd and awkward about having posted it anywhere, much less on a journal site that hardly anyone I know uses anymore. She said something wonderful to me (well, to be honest, a few wonderful things which simply improved my horrid day) when I was expressing that…that sometimes even when we doubt ourselves for telling a story or (in my perception of the conversation) for being straight up honest about something that there is always the chance that someone somewhere will benefit from it. And she teared up, and I asked her why, and she said, ‘because it’s helped me’. And all I could do was hug the hell out of her, for many reasons.

And then I said to myself, ’so what, self, if people read crazy, dramatic stuff?’ Not many people read it anyway, and regarding those that do…is anything really that crazy, and is anyone really going to spend the kind of time to read incredibly old entries? So I went ahead and imported.

You can have the apt…I don’t really need it.

In an email between Kait and I today she expressed her empathy at my vacuum cord having been eaten by Lucy in the following words:

ohhhh nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yeah. I laughed my A off. It was one of the few things that made me laugh today. It also just so happens to be how I’ve felt about my entire day which truthfully started at about 2am rather than 4:15am as originally planned. It started with my own mistake admittedly.

Last night (as I’ve gotten into the habit of doing lately) I slept on the futon in my “living room”…I’ve fooled myself into thinking that falling asleep to the t.v. is easier than falling asleep to silence. And really, this shouldn’t be any kind of a problem. The two “rooms” in my apt. really aren’t that different after all. However, there is a new additive to my front door; a mail slot for rent payments (another entirely too long story as to why that’s changed now). It is big enough for someone open up and look through. I didn’t connect these two things when I went to sleep at like 8 last night.

2am…I wake up to someone pounding on my door. Not knocking, or rapping or any other cute way to say it…pounding. I instantly became enraged and hoped in vain that it was some drunk a-hole at the wrong door who would stagger away in a moment. Nope. What they did instead was flip up the mail slot thing and peek inside while frantically reporting, “Kelly wake up! Someone set the dumpster on fire!!”

Dogs are barking at full volume of course, as they always do anytime someone knocks on the door (only they’re actually louder when someone repeatedly knocks on the door; especially in the middle of the night when they’re at their most protective), I am not fully awake (nor fully dressed), I am disoriented…and I can not for the life of me believe that what he said wasn’t some ridiculous joke.

Even after I processed it some I just layed there for a while hoping the situation would sort of vanish. Then I heard the fire truck pull up. Sooo, I stumbled around in the dark trying to find acceptable clothing and some sort of shoe or slipper. I knew if I hadn’t I would just suffer through more knocking, and peering, and dog barking. (I will admit that I also thought to myself at that moment…damn Ozzies to hell…although, of course, I have no way of knowing how it started in the first place. It was just a little convenient however that it happened at what is commonly known as “drunk hour”.) 

On a complete side note, I will say my level of tranquility in situations that could be a crisis astounds me. Like when that earthquake happened years back that just about leveled the Phoenix Underground in Pioneer Square…I had been sleeping in, a friend had stayed the night. In the middle of the earthquake I calmly asked my friend, “is this an earthquake?” to which he replied, “yes”. I just continued to lay there during the entire thing. Or like, during that same year when an entire building in the apt. complex was burning to the ground and about five thousand fire trucks were screaming their way in and it took Audrey’s boyfriend moving heaven and earth (he actually did, it was pretty amazing) to get me out of bed. I should have been an EMT.

ANYway…once dressed I dutifully plodded outside. What did I do once I got there to handle the situation? I stood there in the cold, and blinked, and that was about it. They didn’t even have to wake me up at that hour. Because all I did was stand there and blink since it was handled. And so, since my sleep was so interrupted it was like pulling teeth to try and fall back asleep. For a while I considered just staying up until it was time to get ready…and then thought better of it.

Only I should have stayed awake, because I was a half an hour late to work this morning…after I had finally mustered the courage to commit to 6am Tue-Fri. Nice. AND, prior to having to show up late to work I got to see (with contacts in) the carnage from the fire that I would have to clean up once I got home (from being late to work). I also made the mistake of disclosing the burning dumpster story to my supervisor after apologizing for being late…and it was only after I returned to my office that I realized the story sounds like the most legendary reason ever for ending up late to work (especially taking into account the kinds of stories we hear from clients at times).

ohhhh nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yeah. Only it was true. But that’s not even the best part. On the bus, on the way to work I realized that I couldn’t remember actually latching Lucy’s kennel because I was in a huge rush to get out of the apt. so I could spend $10 on a cab (so as to avoid being “Metro” late).

ohhhh nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

No. No. And no. Because I clearly remember the annihilation the last time I so foolishly made that same mistake. So I spent the day with the impact of that potential mess on top of the mess I had actually witnessed. Cool.

Eventually I returned to the oasis of home, only when I got here and first walked in Lucy’s presence was not immediately apparent (not only because I couldn’t see her, but also because my belongings at first glance had not been severely interrupted). I really did wonder for a second if she had somehow gotten out of the apt. and was blazing through the streets of Queen Anne. Her behavior is so awful sometimes that for a deranged moment I really did wonder if that had happened and became even more freaked out.

All was solved when I found her in the bathroom…she had locked herself in there accidentally which truthfully is better than if she had been foot loose and fancy free in my apt. all day. BUT she did get a hold of various items, including a knife that had been in the sink, as well as a few other kitchen instruments that she pulverized before the demise of her free run. I won’t go into the details of the mess I had to clean up in my bathroom but maybe it’s imagineable…a year-old labrador who is kennel trained having access to all that extra space for 8 hours (especially considering that labradors are known for the following: obsessive chewing, dependence on other beings, and an amazingly high tolerance for pain). I still can’t find the other (huge) piece of my hand held mirror that used to call my bathroom its home…I suspect that she probably did actually ingest the whole thing save for a small pice of wood which was part of the frame. During the hour that I spent cleaning everything up I also spent one wild moment dreaming of just throwing away most of my belongings, turning my apt. into a big kennel, and sleeping in my car to allow them the run of the place so I wouldn’t have to ever again go through the process of detaining my anger about my chewed up belongings while cleaning it all up. In all actuality, it was maybe good that I had to spend all that time focusing on returning my place to status quo today; it provided me an outlet to avoid ruminating on other things.  

One good thing?! Someone cleaned up the garbage mess and when I saw that I almost got down on my knees and thanked the heavens. I am not resting until I find out who it was so I can bear hug them until they can’t breathe for a second. AND, the day is over.

I hope my Dad does a good job on my car this week, because after the week I’ve had I’m going to drive the hell out of that thing this weekend (especially since I now need to purchase a new vacuum).