ALC (or, On Happiness, Revisited)

In the old blogging days, I would spend days and nights on end working on posts in my head consciously and otherwise until I knew the would come out just right. For an example: This Post about Happiness. I haven't done any of that, the thinking, that is, but it is my usual writing time, 4am, so here we go.


I miss Portland with all my heart sometimes. We have a magnet in the shape of the state of Oregon with a green heart in the middle. The company calls it, "I left my heart in Oregon". Weep. I spoke to a friend whom I've known since 3rd grade, who is currently a Portland resident along with her amazing fiance whom I've also had a long history with. She spoke the exact words I needed to hear. "This is just one of your homes. When you visit, it will just be coming home for awhile."
She would know, if anyone. She has had so many homes I'm not even sure she could count them, but Antarctica is included.


When I think of the core of our friendship I am transported back to an evening to early morning on a beach in the Bahamas, age 14?, 15?. We were so entranced by the waves, the darkness, the ships far in the distance, and that we were HERE! (Believe it or not, part of a Marching Band trip. How awesome is that?)


So I'm not sure I can remember a word of what we talked about, but the feeling comes back in an instant, in the quiet of the morning at times. Complete peace. Nirvana, if you'll allow me. I'm sure I have pictures of me with my entire head braided by a local woman who carried hair products on the beach, but I don't need them because the memory is so strong. We already loved each other, and had for a long time, but if anyone else would have been there the magic would have disappeared. Our friendship was cemented, again, as if that were necessary.


A few years later, a church trip to Paris. Heaven. We were partnered to stay in hotel rooms and host families and every night, exhaustion heavy on our eyelids, she would coax me to journal, just a bit. I can't thank her enough. I have half of a scrapbook from the trip that I can't finish because nothing would do it justice. I wouldn't have even been there, one of the most formative and amazing experiences of my life if it weren't for her. Kids with single Moms just don't sign up for trips that cost thousands of dollars, but she knew I could do it and with hard work and fundraising, I did.


Even though we had these unbelievable times away from home, I also think mostly of times at the house in Glenshire. Her parents never objected to me coming over, sometimes for more than one night, and her mom would stock the pantry with things she noticed I enjoyed. Her dad is one of those obnoxious morning people who sing (!) and throw pair after pair of rolled up tube socks to get us up just in time for school, usually just a few hours after we went to bed. Of course we moaned and complained, but that is a fond memory to this day. (We often slept together in a twin bed. How we managed that I can't imagine. Skinny teenagers, who I'm sure thought they were overweight at the time.) Often I had a paper due the next day or day after and her family would let me stay up all hours of the night, typing and fretting. I don't remember a single time when this friend went to bed before I finished, and her encouragement was (and still is) neverending.


Recently, I spent an entire day crying (Super Bowl Sunday). When I say an entire day, I'm not exaggerating. I'm always terrified of letting go because I'm afraid I'll never stop. I put on Angels in America to distract me from my physical therapy workout and just lost it. I'm sure she could barely understand me on the phone but even though I have been a horribly delinquent friend, (we're talking 6+ months) it didn't matter. I am a part of her family as much as they are of mine. Nothing can change that. Certainly not distance or time.

That's the way it's always been. We were inseparable at one time, for many years. We were the exact same height for a few years and although we don't look much alike, people called us by each others' name or just said "the twins". I was never offended when someone was blushing and apologizing profusely for calling me by her name. I honestly was heartbroken when I grew just a few inches while she stayed the same height.


I revered her and still do. She is the bravest person I know, spending literally years of her life moving from place to place, foreign countries included, to work a job with all new people. She makes friends instantly because it's impossible not to love her.
Right now she's planning a long-distance wedding which of course poses the problem of coordinating bachlorette party, shower, etc. because there's only so many places she can be at once. But when I think about it, she has friends all over the world. There is not a single place that could accommodate everyone. Unfortunately, we probably won't be having one of her showers in New Zealand, for example. Even her parents don't live exactly in her childhood hometown. But somehow, she goes on. Home is where she is right then.
For me, home is where she is right then, too. Even after all these years. I wrote This Post about another friend, who is still light-years away in Vermont.








The theme of this blog was meant to be essentially: Should I stay or should I go? And I feel I've come full circle, moving back to the motherland, but that doesn't change a thing. We chose "go", but might not ever have all of our closest friends nearby. I'm trying to be okay with that, but I think I'm going to have to hear a lot more wise words from the amazing ALC. (Soon to be ALB) :)

The Post After this is Sentimental and Nice. Really.

Now that “The Holidays” are over I can finally say it. Fuck Baby Jesus. My womb has felt gut-wrenchingly empty for about 34 weeks or so. I’ve been reading about other women who got pregnant over the summer at almost the same time as me on a chat room-type website that I used when I was pregnant with Ava. Why do I torture myself by doing that? It’s the only way I know it was real.

This morning I tried to log back in and it wouldn’t let me. Then I re signed up just so I could say hi to some of the women who are still trying to conceive after all this time or the ones that are about the same gestation as I would have been. Even still, the stupid website must have been down or just knew letting me in was a bad idea. Can’t post or blog on my profile without logging in.

I got rid of the positive pregnancy tests almost the moment the blood stopped flowing. I woke up early on the day of my daughter’s 3rd birthday miscarrying. Now, the due date looms just about a month away. It was a totally unplanned pregnancy. I had gotten Mirena just a few months before (99.9% protection for up to 5 years!). Right. The damn thing fell out. I went back to the doctor right before we left Oregon and swore something had to be wrong with it but he blew me off. Unfortunately, there’s nothing like getting pregnant that makes a woman wish she were having another baby.

Last time I lost a pregnancy, it was early on and we conceieved Ava 3-4 months later. (Hence, getting pregnant (accidentally) taught us we were ready. When the due date (which coincidentally was March as well) of the lost pregnancy came around, I remember just being frustrated. “I WOULD BE DONE BY NOW if that first one had stuck!” It’s hard to grieve the loss of a pregnancy when you can’t even see your shoes, round with a daughter who reminds you she’s okay with constant nudges.

The OB/GYN I saw a few weeks after my 2^nd miscarriage was so optimistic. I told him all the complications I had with my last pregnancy and he promised me that there were so many more options that just weren’t available or studied even just that many years ago and getting me through a pregnancy wouldn’t necessarily be easy, but possible. That kept me going for months. The possibility.

As an update to an earlier post, I am now doing self-catheterization (not nearly as bad as it sounds) when I need to so I’m not dragging a bag around. I really didn’t know how annoying it was until it was gone. I’m also awaiting some tests and hopefully explanation as to why I can’t pee. One explanation could come from an Ortho doctor who ordered an mri of my spine. Said doctor spent way too long looking at what he could see of my spine going back and forth on one frame from my hip mri whispering “right there”. I’m thinking “the possibility” is probably forever gone. Ava likely will never have a biological sibling and it doesn’t help that she asks all the time where are her brother and sister.

The Crickets are Chirping. At Twilight?

I am a delinquent blogger. It’s not that I don’t have the call to write, it’s that I haven’t felt like I have anything worthy of posting. All the time I have spent trying to think of the perfect post has kept me from writing what’s really on my mind. Sadly, my long-awaited debut was inspired by a mainstream teen movie. Guh.

I went to see New Moon the other day. A matinee with lots of other women my age sitting alone. The peace of only having to listen to my own thoughts was overwhelming. The joy of being alone doing something enjoyable carried me for so many days I’m even considering going again.

We have been in Tualatin for almost a year. Although our whole family is much, much happier here, almost six months of unemployment has definitely taken its toll. I am not cut out to be a full-time mom. Trying to keep a toddler entertained, enriched, and healthfully fed has come close to consuming me. As I write this I am waiting to hear about a potential job offer, and trying to figure out how I’m going to climb out of this hole and become a person again. She’s still in there; I know because I heard her while alone with thoughts of vampires and humans.

Years ago, I was introduced to vampires and werewolves and all other sorts of fairy-tale creatures. As much as my adult influences would try to stop it, I got closer and closer until I could touch them, these creatures from make-believe. They’re real. As real as you or I or anyone we know. The problem is, how to merge the outside pretend-real with what I know to be real? Who gets in on the secret? How do I find the others?

Sometimes I think I see one in the eyes of someone I’ve seen at both Portland PRIDE and the Portland Aids Walk. I toy with the idea that if I join this club or that I might find someone who wants to be in the same coven. The rest of my creatures are scattered about the country, centered in the Midwest, or buried in the earth. I have met new friends here, but it’s not the same. As I get older they seem harder to find.

I know we’re in the right place, and are lucky to have a few old friends nearby, but is there any place in the world that will feel like living in Urbana in 2002? I’m content for now, but still look to a future where many of us can gather close, circle the fire, and commune.

The Next Post Won’t Be Depressing

I have many ideas for posts that begin to take shape, but then something more pressing seeps in and I can’t focus beyond it, so I’m giving in. As our lives are somehow turning toward a move to Portland, and therefore away from the Midwest, I am thinking about the amazing people I will not likely be closer to anytime soon. This I can deal with, at least for now. As it happens, I am looking forward to a more Urban existence, and will most likely be nearer to some dear friends anyway, but that story is for another day.

I have a friend who will never be closer to us, no matter where we move in this life.

I Googled her name yesterday. I can’t fathom what I was hoping to find. Perhaps a memorial site put up by her parents that we were somehow not informed of? We all have small tidbits of cyberspace that will live on as long as the interweb does, and I did get several hits in reality. In my mind, I was going to find a YouTube video of her saying:

I’m fine. I’m content where I am. I miss you guys. When can we have another Thanksgiving in pajamas? I’ve learned the secret, and I will see you again.

The background song is always Breathe Me, and she is wearing red. This is not a dream. It’s a place my mind goes when I’ve had enough.

 

********************************

 

I have now learned a grief lesson twice over. There comes a point, months later, when the eye-popping, chest-caving-in type of sadness lessons, and life becomes a new normal. That has been the hardest time for me, by far.

I don’t like this. It’s not funny anymore. No, really, I want to see my friend again. I didn’t get enough yet. Let’s start over at the place where this all derailed, only this time let things end fairly. I spend time in the parallel universe where we are celebrating a wedding; Longitude is wearing a tux (a Hawaiian shirt?), and we are all barefoot on the beach.

Fast-forward to our daughter and theirs at a petting zoo, clambering all over the animals. Another day, at yet another backyard bonfire, her husband plays the guitar while she laughs and teases; they disappear into the tall rows of corn, leaving the rest of us to occupy their kids. “Mommy and Daddy will be back soon. They’re playing.”

In my mind it always goes much, much further. Logic tells me to stay away, grounded in reality. But somehow putting myself through pain, whether I’m daydreaming, watching Angels in America, or Googling, carries me.

Safety Goggles

So I feel like I need to blog. I have had a lot on my mind since my first entry. In fact there are several points I wish to cover. The problem is, getting them written down. I feel so discouraged. Not that writing things down is a waste of time because I know it will make me feel better to get it out but I am worried I might infect some of our soon to be loyal readers and take away what hope and drive they may have with life.

Drifting is a good way to describe my mind set because I feel like my brain is hopelessly drifting aimlessly around in my skull. Some days I do not even feel attached to my body, as I have to negotiate with it to do what I tell it to do. I guess detached is another way to describe how I feel. I know I am a part of society. I interact with people, go shopping, kept an Ice Rink running, meet people, listen, and do my best to feel a part of this experiment we call life but when it comes down to it, I feel detached. I cannot seem to be happy and content with life like most folks. I am jealous of those people who can just go to their repetitive mindless jobs and after work crack open a beer and be happy with life. I cannot. I have tried my best not to care about the big picture of life but I always fail. I was hoping having a disgustingly cute daughter would fill that void I always feel but even she does not. No matter what I try, I can occupy my time and be temporally happy and proud of my life but in the back of my drifting mind, I still wonder what the point of this exercise is.

People always say “a means to an end” when they need to justify why they are doing what they are doing. Many cases it is making a short-term sacrifice to accelerate obtaining a long-term goal. I have no problem coming up with the ‘means’ but it is the ‘end’ that eludes me. I do not know what my ‘end’ is. I know several things I would like to do with my life but none of them would constitute an end. Even my wildest dreams of opening up an Alpaca Ranch or an Outdoor Adventure Camp are great to think about and would be great if I accomplished, but they would just be means of passing time. Even if I won the lotto and could do whatever I wanted to, I know I would still be searching for my end. Is life all about an end goal? Why is it so important? Is it what we are to do with our lives to feel like fulfilled humans? Is it to have a dream out there to shoot for to tell yourself ‘someday things will be better’ while you slave along day to day?

This next part might infuriate some out there. Please keep an open mind:

Other than the group of people who can have a beer at the end of the day and be happy there is one other group of individuals I am jealous of. They are the Religious. I do not care what you believe or to what extent of your faith you believe, I am jealous. I know many strongly religious folks and many strongly atheist folks. I have tried to get into organized religion but I cannot. I have discussed this with many of my atheist friends and several agree with me. I have talked to many of my religious friends and they have tried to help me. I wish I could believe in organized religion. If I did I bet it would bring that sense purpose I lack and fill that void in my life. I want to believe. I even tried to fake it for a while to see if it started to come on its own. It did not.

I think we are all born with goggles over our eyes. These safety goggles are there to protect our minds. They filter out all those bad things in the world we all wish would just not be. They allow us to filter out what we do not want to see or admit and allow us to only see what is easy and healthy for the mind to digest. These safety goggles are there to allow us to accept things as they are told to us and not question them in. They allow us to believe and see the world through a different filter. They are kind of like beer goggles. When you have beer goggles on, you see the world in a new way. Ugly becomes pretty, stupid things become fun, things seem easier and the world seems better. The same goes for the safety goggles issued at birth. They help you to see the good in everything, trust people, and feel like a valuable, integrated member of society. They focus on puppies and rainbows but filter out things like what is in dog food and the fact that you are causing the pollution that obscures rainbows these days. They allow you to accept things on faith, be okay with answers that are given to you buy those with authority no matter how far-fetched it may seem and be content with everyday life. 

My problem is must have lost my set on safety goggles at some point in my childhood. I remember being happy as a child. I remember being hopeful and ambitious about life. I also remember thinking this religious thing seeming like it was a crock of shit (I went to a Catholic grade school for 8 years). I remember even as a kid watching the other children seem to get pleasure and happiness out of religion bit I never did. I kind of felt like I was the last kid waiting on the bench to get picked for the religious team. I guess they had enough players because I never got in. Early on I realized I was different from everyone else, so I decided to play along and observe to see if I could figure out why. I never did. What I did realize is how sheltered many people are about so many things and how they will do anything to stay that way. I think they must still have on their safety goggles on. Part of me wants to tear them of to show the world I see to others but the other part of me wants to let them stay blissfully ignorant to the real world and let them enjoy life.

I keep hoping I am wrong about life and it has meaning. I keep hoping someday I will find an extra pair of safety glasses to cover my mind with. I keep hoping that I will discover my ‘end’ which makes the ‘means’ worth it. I have even thought about becoming and alcoholic to keep a pair of beer goggles on fulltime but I know that would not solve anything. Would a fresh new pair of safety goggles even solve anything?

From Then to Now

So where do I begin?  There is so much in my head right now I am afraid to think what might come out.  I guess the most prevalent item that is always blocking all other thoughts is what is life all about?  After a quick end of my childhood and being thrown into the real world, I thought I had a plan formulated to occupy my life.  Ever since high school I always pictured myself driving out west, with my dog in my jeep, my jeep pulling a small trailer and whatever I couldn't fit in either, wasn't meant to come with me.  My plan was to drive west, find a town to stay at for awhile, work odd jobs and move on.  Never staying too long in one spot, just living the simple life and enjoying the little things.  I always pictured myself finding a nice secluded, untouched area of wilderness and just disappearing, living off the land roaming free of restrictions and worries.  If something happened to me, the only one to be affected would be my dog. 

Looking back on it, it was a good plan.  The only thing that seemed to help me forget life was being in the wilderness, admiring the complex harmony of life and pretending I was a part of it.  I am not sure why I never took off, probably because I was not brave enough to leave those few dear friends I had.  Maybe because I never had a car that would have made it out of the state, or because I didn't have a dog.  Maybe because it seemed stupid and what was the point?  I would have just been running away and not facing my problems.  

A combination of those reasons led me to stay, go to college which gave me more insight into the world. I still felt the same inside but at least I felt like I was doing what I 'should' according to most.  I had faced many of my problems and become a better person by most accounts.  I was popular, fun, smart, able to do most anything I put my mind to but I still felt the same inside.  I could help all of my friends get through hard times, though decisions and make them feel good but I was still miserable inside.  I had thought about killing myself several times but I knew it would only hurt others.  I felt like everyone else could just enjoy life and all I could do was be alive.  I would had good times, but I always had this persistent shadow that would always remind me of my emptiness.  

I had a chance to go backpacking for 6 months on the Appalachian Trail so I immediately jumped at it.  I took a semester of college off and got my stuff ready.  I was expecting it to be the epiphany I so needed to get my life in order.  It was not.  Every day was amazing and it gave me much time to think.  It was so beautiful and simple and complex and daunting.  After a month I had come to the conclusion that I was in love.  Yes that is an epiphany but not the one I was hoping for.  Yes, the man whose plan was to drive west with his dog and live off the land was in love.  During my month on the trail, all I wanted to do was share each moment, each creek, each leaf, each sound, each smell, each breath of fresh air with this one other person.  It made me want to come steal her from the real world and bring her back to my trail world.  Back in the real world she was struggling to help me with my dream and it made me realize how special she was to endure additional misery to try and bring me some happiness. I decided to leave the trail early, and hold onto my Erin forever.  

I love Erin.  Don't get me wrong here, I would do anything for her.  Anything.  She is the fuel that keeps my fire going everyday.  Without her, I would be even more lost.  I was hoping love was the thing missing from my life. The thing that would allow me to feel like everyone else.  The thing that would end my shadow forever.  The thing that would allow me to come home after a day at the office, have a beer and be content with my life.  It is not.  I still feel lost, like I do not belong anywhere, do not have any real direction or hope.  All I seem to have is dreams.  With Erin, I do not feel alone anymore.  It is a great start but where do we go from here?  Now we are lost together.