Don't Get Your Hopes Up

A close relative of "we'll see" - the phrase "don't get your hopes up" seems to always portend a bad result. It doesn't matter if you're talking about whether the cute guy across the room is straight or whether you're likely to win the lottery. Odds are when someone says "don't get your hopes up" whatever you're hoping for isn't going to come your way.

If I had a dollar every time this came true for me I'd be rich and I wouldn't worry about hopes. But, alas, I'm not rich and I am worried about hopes. I hope I get a raise this summer, I hope that my friends come to my party on Saturday, I hope that I get the house I am bidding on, I hope I will find happily ever after. I hope, I hope, I hope.

The thing that bothers me about hope is that it suggests that everything is all in the hands of fate. That all you are left to do is hope. There is nothing else you can do to forward your dream but - hope. There are always things you can do - raise your visibility at work, ask for the raise, invite more friends to the party, etc. Those are things you can do to make your karmic odds better and make it more likely that your hopes will be realized (granted none of these are guarantees).

As for the house and eternal happiness - well, hope wasn't enough. I will need to figure out what I can do to help my karmic odds on that one.

Take care, dear reader.

Casting Couch

We all play director/producer in our own lives. We cast people in roles. We give them roles, defined personalities, movements, expectations and sit back, waiting for them to fulfill them. But we leave something out.

We don't give them the script.

We project certain expectations onto the people in our lives - cast them, so to speak. This is my best friend - she does this. This is my romantic lead - he says this. This is my protagonist - they do this (I always beat them, of course).

The problem is that when you don't give your players a script they don't know the expectations and they find it impossible to live up to them. That leaves you, the director, frustrated; and them, the cast, confused - not understanding what was expected of them and, therefore, unable to meet your expectations.

And the irony of this situation is that as you are casting others; those same others are casting you. And you don't have their script. And you don't know what is expected of you. And you end up confused. And the director ends up disappointed in you.

And the world keeps turning.

(I'd prefer to end this with some great revelation or solution but quite honestly I'm still working this one out for myself).

Through the Looking Glass

For the last several years I have been practicing escapism at it's finest. I drank, I ate, I hung out with friends. I did everything I could do to avoid looking at the reality of my life and how profoundly unhappy I was.

One of my favorite things to do was to get a glossy fashion magazine, a glass of wine and sit on the back porch listening to old songs from the 40's. In my head I traveled to a place where I was beautiful, sought after, wearing designer clothes, perfect make up, perfect hair, etc. Part of me believed if I could buy these things - get the latest shoe, bag, make up, pants, dress, etc. that my life would be better. I subscribed to well over 10 magazines to either escort me into this fantasy land or show me the next thing I needed to buy. Obviously that did not work. Eventually I had to confront my life.

And I have. I have confronted my life and am moving forward. I feel like I've done 10 years worth of growing up in 6 months. I'm ready (and excited) about tackling the responsibility of home ownership. I'm looking forward to mowing my own lawn, to planting some flowers, to painting (my ex-husband would really laugh at all of this).

But what about those magazines? I have noticed that they keep piling up. And piling up. I have no desire to look at them any more. They have nothing to offer me. I don't need to escape any more - the right here and now is good enough for me.

Take care, dear reader.

The Roller Coaster or My Week in Review

I must apologize, dear reader, for my absence this week - I was incredibly busy.

It was a week of ups, downs, steps forward and steps back. I overbooked myself, I made a mistake with the sorta/kinda ex on Tuesday, had an incredibly nice time with him on Friday, I decided it was time to grow up and buy a house, I veered from my diet, I chose a salad at a fancy banquet dinner, I skipped my Thursday workout, I rode a spin bicycle for 6 hours on Saturday for charity. So - ups and downs.

At my last counseling session I was surprised to notice (after it was pointed out to me, of course) the kind of negative language I use in my self-talk. I was either "good" or "bad." When I veered from my diet at all I said I was "bad" whereas if I stuck to it I was "good." There was no room for any variance in my head. My therapist noted, and she is right, that this is an indication that I am not fully owning my diet as something that I am doing for me. I am dieting, working out, etc. to please some imaginary Greek chorus in my head. We did some exercises where she asked me what else I could say to myself that would not be such a good/bad judgment call. This, dear reader, was where the rubber met the road because I literally could not come up with anything. So, this is what I have been working on this week - owning my goals for my own and being forgiving of myself when things go off track and getting things back on track (not allowing one variance to become a spiral of self-hate).

And this week was a very good test track for that. I am not going to say I was perfect in any way. But I led my life this week in a very reasonable fashion and didn't feel so constrained - like I was living up to someone else's expectations of me (which in my head are generally impossible to meet). I made good food choices on Tuesday night and Wednesday night with dinner. I did not make as good a choice on Thursday afternoon on my drive through rural Georgia - but I did make one of the better choices available to me and I can live with that.

I woke up early Tuesday morning to get in my workout and ran well on Wednesday. After those two days I took Thursday off. Yesterday I rode a spin bike for 6 hours for charity. All in all, I think I got my exercise for the week and I am happy with that. Not many people work out 5-6 days a week and I don't have to either to feel good about myself.

Now, I fell down in the scheduling department for both last week and this week. I have been overscheduled (mostly not my fault). Every night this week is taken. And I am surprised (pleasantly) at how upset I am about that. I have learned that I NEED my alone time. I need it to work through these things - whether it is here in my blog, in my journal, or in my tiny head. I need time to reconnect with myself - remember what is important to me - even if I just watch crime shows and do my cross stitch. I would have thought living alone would give me enough alone time but apparently not...

So, we approach another week. Another opportunity to live my life in a way that is pleasing to me and no one else. Another opportunity to ride the roller coaster. This time I'm raising my arms and screaming my head off instead of white knuckling through it.

Take care, dear reader...

The Quiet Times

Life is all about the quiet times. The times between parties, dinner dates, vacations, and other exciting stuff. It is easy to have fun and be happy at, say, Disney World or on a beach in Aruba. It is not as easy to be happy sitting on your couch on an average Tuesday evening when there is nothing on but American Idol featuring Mariah Carey (are you kidding me????).

But that was where I found myself last night. After a good run and some dinner, I settled onto the couch (with the cats snuggled next to me) for my quiet time. In the last several months I have done a lot of things to avoid this time. I've overbooked myself to the point of not knowing where or who I was marking time with. I've drank my evenings away. I've eaten everything that would not eat me first. I've done all that I could to avoid the quiet times.

But last night (and several nights recently) it was just me, the cats and the tick tock of the clock. This is where life happens. This is the place where you need to feel content - when nothing is going on.

So, I settled in, with Mariah and the Idols in the background, surveyed my surroundings and was... wait for it... perfectly content. I picked up my cross stitch and cross stitched the evening away - every tiny little x adding to the picture.

At bedtime, I sighed and realized I was still perfectly content. I climbed in bed - smack in the middle - turned off the tv and drifted directly to sleep.

This morning I woke up pleased. Pleased that even in the quiet times I am happy and content with my life.

Take care, dear readers.

Rant!!!!

I can tell when I'm getting back to feeling like myself when I can get all full of righteous indignation over stuff that no one else cares about. And since I am no longer posting on any message boards you, dear reader, will be the victim of my stray rantings.

So, here it is.

This month the Fulton County Daily Report is giving out its 2008 Pro Bono Awards.

Pro bono, according to wikipedia, means "for the public good." It is used to describe to professional work undertaken voluntarily and without payment.

Pro bono sounds like great stuff - who could possible rail against pro bono work? Well, me for one. And there is a very good reason.

I work for the State of Georgia. So, by definition, I am working for the public good voluntarily. "But you get paid for your work" is what you are surely saying to me. Well, dear reader, so do 80% of the nominees for the Pro Bono Awards. They work at big firms. Many of the big firms in town have created teams of Pro Bono attorneys who are awarded billable hour credit for the "pro bono" work they perform. When the nominees for these awards work for places like King and Spalding, Troutman Sanders, Alston & Bird, Seyfarth Shaw, Powell Goldstein, etc. it is hard for me to take the label "pro bono" seriously. First year attorneys at these firms make $70,000 more per year than I make and I have been practicing for 10 years.

Now I am not saying they aren't doing good work for the public good. I am just saying that when they step out of their $40,000 BMW at the homeles shelter it doesn't look like they are exactly sacrificing anything for their commitment.

Next year I'm going to nominate myself.

Rant over.

Who's That Girl?

We live in a highly relational society. Your friends, relatives, acquaintances often view you as That Girl. You're an attorney, a friends wife, the fat girl, the funny girl, the quiet girl, the drunk girl, the prude, etc. These people may, or may not, know you very well - but they have categorized you nonetheless. And to be fair, you have done this to your friends, relatives, acquaintances as well.

All goes along just fine until "That Girl" wants to change her life. She loses weight, leaves her marriage, becomes more outgoing, loosens up. Then all hell breaks loose. When someone breaks free of their label, things can get rocked to the core. I have noticed this, in varying degrees, with all of my friends, relatives, acquaintances and coworkers since I left my marriage.

For example, one of my friends seems to have totally distanced herself from me since the early stages. I count her to this day as one of my very best friends, but the change in my life has done something unfortunate to our relationship and she no longer sees me the same way she used to. I don't know if me becoming newly single is a threat; either to the dating pool or to the institution of marriage in general. Either way, I miss my friend but am no longer able to be That Girl for her. I will continue to grow and learn about myself and how I relate to the world with or without her friendship, though I sincerely hope she either changes her mind or I am horribly wrong.

Another example, a friend of mine invited me to a party. I responded that I would be attending and he stated that he'd make sure they'd buy four more bottles of wine. Now, I don't think me not being a total lush anymore is going to tank that relationship, but it is clear that I was That Girl who drinks a lot to him. And that was a bit of a wake up call to read. I had not considered that label before, though I have clearly earned it. I really don't want to be That Girl to him or anyone else anymore. I have worked hard in the last 3 weeks to break free of the habit that was booze (and I have come to determine that in many ways it really was a habit - I drank when I did x, y, or z). I hope that in time the changes I've made will allow me to shed my label as That Girl to him. Only time can tell.

A third friend has also pulled away. She is married and since I told her about my divorce I have not heard from her. It is possible that my divorce has shaken her beliefs about marriage and/or threatened her own. Who am I to get out of an unhappy relationship when she feels stuck in hers? This is speculation, of course, but it seems entirely possible.

On the other hand (and a much more positive one), there are many friends who have been supportive of me becoming whatever girl I want to become. Friends who sat quietly prior to my separation and are now vociferous in saying that I did the right thing, that I am right for finding out who That Girl is for myself. This has been the greatest surprise and joy for me since the separation - the number of people who truly cared about me that I never knew cared that much. To you all, I say thank you.

For the rest of you, I am not sure what girl I was to you, but I can promise you I will be That Girl no longer. You can either come with me or be left behind. Because while I will miss your friendship I am not going back. I have worked too hard, gone through too much, to go backwards.

As for the question: Who's That Girl? I'm not sure who she is to you yet, but she is leaps and bounds more and better to herself than she ever was before.

Take care, dear readers, I'm all of a sudden in the mood to pull out my Madonna CD's...

Lessons from Churchill

Winston Churchill said, "those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

Let us start with that quote in mind and take a look at my history.

I want to be very clear from the outset. I love my mother very much. Most of us love our parents (one or both of them), but lets be honest - they are normal, fallible human beings. They are not perfect (though we thought they were - or at least they were all that we had to compare to - when we were kids). Learning from their patterns and flaws is essential to understanding where/how you crafted your view about marriage/relationships, etc. I know this because dear Harville Hendrix, Ph.D. told me so.

I would also like to say that this is all based on my memories - and they are not perfect either. I am sure I have forgotten some good times, misremembered some bad, etc. But they are my memories and they are as imperfect as I am, but they are all I have to go from in this case.

I embarked on an inventory of my parents' relationship so I could learn what model of marriage I was taught. Harville had me start by putting all the positive traits about my mother, father and their marriage on one side of a paper and all the negative on the other. Then I was to distinguish which trait was more my mother, more my father, etc.

I had exactly one good trait for my father: he was a good time guy (he's not dead, but this is about my memories). I could add others - he was charming, funny. But although I could add a couple more good traits, I could also add several bad. My father is non-existent in my childhood memories and the times he pops up it is in a negative connotation. He was absent, disinterested, uncaring, critical, demanding and, ultimately, selfish. He was never around, yet he somehow managed to be around for the fun stuff - taking my mother out to dinner, etc. on Friday and usually Saturday nights. They had fun together those nights. I was home with a sitter.

I had several good traits for my mother. She is also funny, but more importantly, she was supportive, caring, loving, hardworking, and basically the glue that kept our family together (for better or worse, quite honestly). But she, too, was absent while I was growing up for the most part. Unlike my father who just seemed entirely uninterested; she had a legitimate reason - she was working hard to provide for her family (my father rarely brought home a regular pay check, though, again he was somehow able to come up with money for weekends, vacations, etc.). My mother was also criticized at home and in general not respected by my father. She was, however, valued at work. People listened to her, respected her, she was fulfilled there. It is no wonder she spent a lot of her time at work. I don't blame her for this at all. She was doing the best she could to get some happy out of life.

I was left with a model of a marriage where the woman does everything to keep the house a home and the man sits in front of the tv and grunts (that is after he has changed the channel from whatever it was you were watching so he could promptly fall asleep). I don't remember them being affectionate towards each other. The closest my father got to affection was yelling at me if I even remotely talked back to my mother. Looking back it seems that he used me (and to some extent my sister) as pawns to please my mother. He would come home early (I hated those days) and kick his feet up and tell me to clean the house, to vacuum, etc. Of course, it was never done well enough for him. Then he would light some incense and I'd later hear him tell my mother that he had cleaned up for her. I could go on and on. But there is no sense in beating this into the ground. It was not a good marriage, though they managed to have fun together when they went out. But, in my opinion (and I believe my mother's now), it is the quiet moments between parties, vacations, etc. that are the true measure of a marriage. And theirs sucked (sorry, mom).

It is no wonder that I took on the responsibility in my marriage of doing everything. I vowed that I would not marry a deadbeat like my father. And that I did not do. The one thing I was not in my marriage was the breadwinner. But there are several other similarities between my father and my ex-husband. My father used to put down my mother in front of company; my ex-husband often put me down. My father took no responsibility for anything inside the home; my ex-husband was happy for me to take charge of all of that. My parents marriage was not that of equals. Neither was mine. I was very much subservient. My mother was subservient, though she earned the money.

I wanted my parents to divorce from a fairly young age. I decided early on that the house would be (and often was since he wasn't home much) a better place if my dad wasn't in it. It is no wonder that in high school I said I would never get married. Why I did is another story for another day, I suppose. For that reason, I have not considered divorce a taboo. I have seen that divorce is essential for some people to get some happy out of life. I'm not saying it's pleasant or fun and I'm not suggesting it is to be undertaken lightly. But I don't view it as taboo. It's not preferable, but it is sometimes necessary. It was for my mother. It was for me.

There is more to this - like the fact that my father never picked me up on time from dance class though he worked less than a mile away. I was always at dance class an hour or two after the class was over. I was often there when they were shutting down the studio. Waiting outside for my dad to pick me up. Many nights he never came and my mother would come instead. But I don't see the point in rehashing that entirely on these pages. Suffice it to say, the best adjective for my father in my life is absent.

So, another pandora's box is opened. Another view into why I think and act and choose partners in the way I do. Another chance to shape and change what I want for the future to ensure that I do not end up repeating history.

If I ever marry again I want an equal partnership. I don't want to be the one putting in all the effort because my husband puts in all the money. I want to encourage and be encouraged. I want to support and be supported. I want to hug and be hugged. I want to respect and be respected. And mostly I want to love and be loved in return.

So, Winston, I promise I'll do my lessons. I will learn from history so that I am not doomed to repeat it.

Take care, dear readers.

Give Me a Break!

I am a good friend. I am a supportive friend. When my friends are down I do my best to cheer them up. When my friends have slipped - on their diets, workout goals, personal goals - I encourage them. Tell them that no one is perfect and they can get back on track tomorrow. I tell them not to beat themselves up - that they're doing great.

So, dear reader, why is it that I find it so difficult to be a good friend to myself? When I slip up I am my harshest critic. I beat myself up. I tell myself that I'm no good - that I couldn't stick to that goal (whatever it is) anyway. I know you have read in this blog moments when I've overcome this self-flogging. Today, however, I am struggling with it. That inner voice is telling me that I'm no good - I don't have the discipline to stick to my goals, so why bother. Just go back to the way things were - they weren't so bad, were they?

But they were. As hard as all of this is - and have no doubt, it is HARD - this is better than living with my head in the sand. It is better to have goals that you stick to 90% of the time than it is to live your life at the mercy of what you're In The Mood to do. It is better to feel good about yourself 80% of the time than to never feel good about yourself - or even worse to not even see yourself clearly.

I'm struggling to learn from my screw up yesterday (I set off on a walk to buy a Kentucky Derby Hat and ended up drinking 4 glasses of wine). I've learned that I never feel good about myself when I drink alone. So, that has to go. I have learned that drinking after an emotional situation (I did an exercise in that stupid book about how my parents modeled marriage - stay tuned there'll be a post on that later, once I get it all sorted out) is not a good idea for me. And finally, I've learned that Moe's is the devil.

So, today I'm picking up the pieces. Fighting the urge to pull the covers over my head and not leave my little condo. Fighting the urge to just run away (though I actually might do this - in a positive way). Fighting the urge to quit this self-discovery. Fighting the urge to listen to my negative inner voice. Fighting, fighting, fighting.

Take care, dear reader. I'll be boxing with shadows.

I'm Just Not In The Mood To....

On the way home Friday night I was listening to a self-help radio program. I didn't hear much of what they were talking about so I was left to draw my own conclusions. However, the gist was that things that you "Have To Do" generally have a much more positive and lasting impact on your life and your psyche than the things you are "In The Mood To Do" (or conversely allowing yourself to get talked out of the the things you Have To Do because you're Not In The Mood).

I thought about that for a couple days and let it really marinate in my brain until, last night, I think I finally got it.

I am in training for an indoor cycling event. Yesterday we had a 3 1/2 hour ride. I was Not In The Mood to do it, but I knew it was something I Have To Do. After 3 1/2 hours I felt much better about myself, had made friends with the riders in the room and am now looking forward (kinda) to next week's training. I was proud of myself and that had a lasting impact.

Contrast this with things that I have been In The Mood to do. On a beautiful afternoon with sunny skies, I will generally be in the mood to sit on my back porch read a magazine and drink a bottle of wine. This, obviously, has no positive lasting impact on my life. It only makes me happy for the moment, and in fact has a lasting negative impact on my life because of all the guilt and self-hate that will come the next day.

There is a corollary to this theory as well - allowing yourself to get sidetracked from the things you Have To Do because you're Not In The Mood to do them. I am often Not In The Mood to work out, but it is a Have To Do for both my mental and physical well being. I am also often Not In The Mood to do the self-help exercises and introspection that I know is necessary for me to get through this spot. I have to push through the Mood to do what I Have To Do. I have to fight the Not In The Mood (which is sometimes fairly powerful) to get to the Have To Do.

Now I am not saying that everything that you Have To Do will have a positive impact on your life. Going to the dentist, while a Have To Do, is not going to change your life for the better (unless you're British). But if you really look at your life activities and pay attention to the things that in your mind you Have To Do and the things in your mind that you are just In The Mood To Do I think you will see what I have seen - in general the Have To Do's are more fulfilling. And the real challenge is to not let your Moods sway you from the things you Have To Do.

So, dear reader, I am off for a run and then an hour or two of serious introspection. Not because I am In The Mood to do either of these things necessarily, but because I Have To Do them.

Krog Bar (yes, an actual review)

Last night I joined some friends for drinks after work. It was forecasted to be the last nice day in Atlanta for some time so we wanted to take advantage of the patio at Krog Bar.

I have always wanted to go to Krog Bar and for some reason have never gotten around to it. It is right up my alley. A wine bar meets tapas - could not be any more perfect for me. My friend, G., got there first and scored us some prime real estate on the patio. The patio (and the entire place) is small. And for some reason, they have chosen to cover most of the patio with umbrellas - not allowing any sun to peek through. I am not sure why they did this and I really wish they had not.

The wine selection was very good and they actually had informative and accurate descriptions of the wines (unlike The Grape). I had a wonderful Pinot Grigio that was crisp - just as described. My friend, B, had a spicy red (after I gave him a hard time for ordering a beer...) that also was just as described.

We ordered a variety of tapas and I was pleased with each. The hummus was absolutely amazing - some of the best I have had in Atlanta. The olive tasting was also very good and I really enjoyed the olives that were marinated with jalapeno peppers. I woke up this morning craving them! We got some tuna sashimi and that was also very good. We finished up with a cheese plate. I was not overly thrilled with their cheese selection - but it was passable. I didn't have a lot of cheese, but what I had was very good. If I were not on this stupid diet I would have ordered some meats as well. Perhaps next time.

The service is also worth mentioning - I was very impressed. The waiter was appropriately present and not present at the same time. He made sure to keep the wine flowing and the food available without making himself a nuisance at our table.

So, if you are looking for me on a nice evening, I think you should start at Krog Bar. I'll be the one with the hummus and a glass of crisp pinot grigio!

Open Apology

I am sorry. If you have known and loved me in the last 12 or so years, I am sorry. If you have tried to tell me that I'm great or worthy or beautiful or smart or accomplished or wonderful, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry because I didn't listen to you. I heard you, I'm sure, but I didn't listen to you. I brushed it off, I ignored it, said it couldn't be true. I may have even argued with you about how it was definitely not true. I even sat in my therapists office today and she told me I was gorgeous - I waved her off and continued my other thoughts.

I remember, very vividly, a night not so long ago when a particular person was trying to make me believe that I was good enough, smart enough, pretty enough - that I was all those things and more. And, believe it or not, instead of accepting it and thanking him - I fought him. I told him how wrong he was. I was trying to win an argument that I was not worthy (see how ridiculous this is?). I was vicious and not kind. I told him that he could think these things but I couldn't because "I don't have a penis and a sense of entitlement" (he loves throwing that line back at me, by the way...). I was awful.

So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't hear you when you said you loved me. I'm sorry I couldn't accept it. I'm sorry I've been difficult and frustrating when you've tried to show me that I truly am worthwhile and truly am lovable and beautiful and smart and all those things. I'm sorry.

I finished counseling today and got in my car and cried. I didn't cry because I was sad, I cried because I was proud of myself. I cried because I could finally see the person that you, my friends, families, intimates, have seen. I cried because I realized how frustrating I've been to you. And I cried because I have turned the corner and am willing to start to accept that I AM worthy.

So, right here, right now, I want to apologize to you for not listening to you. I am hearing you now, loud and clear, and I thank you.

Take care, dear reader...

Facing Down My Demons

I mentioned earlier this week that I suffered a set back with being sick and not being able to work out. Blech. The scale is still totally my enemy. It is totally unfair that you can do all the right things and the damned thing refuses to budge. I have to keep the faith and continue on course - something good is bound to happen!

Last night I wanted a drink. I felt bad about the weight thing, it was nice out and I just wanted to feel happy for a little bit. Immediately a glass of wine on the back porch came to mind. But I had a little voice in the back of my head that told me that if I had one glass of wine it would likely lead to two, three, the bottle. And then it would affect my mood, would keep me from eating well, would keep me from working out, and worst of all it would make me ashamed of myself in the morning.

But I still wanted a drink.

I bargained with myself (I am very good at this..). I told myself that I could have a drink if I wanted one but only after I ran 3 miles (did I mention it was a beautiful day). I went home, changed into running clothes and hit the sidewalk. After about a mile the thought of having a drink had totally disappeared.

So last night as I was writing in my journal (yes a journal AND a blog...)I realized how proud I was of myself for making the right choice.

Another step forward, dear readers (despite what the fucking scale says...)

Imago

My therapist has been out with a broken hip (I finally have an appointment with her tomorrow), so I have been deeply involved in the self-help books recently. A friend of mine suggested I read "Keeping the Love You Find" by Harville Hendrix.

I recently started the book and have to admit that, thus far, I have not been impressed. First, he starts from the theory that you can never be fulfilled as a person unless you are in a committed marriage. He is so arrogant as to go so far as to say that any other romantic arrangement will not make you whole as a person. Obviously that flies in the face of what I have learned in my Woman Alone book and I accept that book as truth.

Nevertheless, my friend has encouraged me to do the exercises and learn from them what I may. I have recently finished the exercises that lead you to a preview of your Imago (a theory that we choose our mate based on psychological gaps left by our imperfect parents). I began the exercises thinking that my exhusband and the kinda/sorta ex would be very similar in their qualities. I made this judgment based on some very basic similarities between the two - they are both attorneys (yes, someone should have warned me against attorneys), they are both politically and fiscally conservative, they were both athletic in their youth, etc. But, I could not have been more wrong. It turns out that very few of their positive/negative characteristics overlap. It appears that instead of being very similar types of relationships, they are actually very different.

After continuing the activities involved in looking at past relationships, I see that really the only thing that is similar between the two relationships is me. And the "Unconscious Relationship" I carry with me is very sad. My deepest fears are that I am unlovable, inadequate and not worthy. The things I desire most in a relationship is to feel loved, supported and valued. But this is harder than it sounds because any frustration that comes up causes me to default to the worst possible reason/solution - that the person doesn't love me, value or support me. How sad. I am pretty sure he is going to tell me that this is what I felt in my relationship with my father - which is probably pretty on the money. It was not worth his time or energy to spend time with me, to support my endeavors, or to share any emotion with me. That's a pretty heavy burden to heap on a young girl. No wonder I'm so screwed up!

I am not sure yet exactly what all this means yet, but will keep you posted...

Setbacks

Progress does not occur in a straight line. Sometimes it is a very three steps forward, two steps back kind of process.

This weekend I got sick. Flat on my back, not in the mood to do much of anything but sit on my butt, kind of sick. I had just finished a very good week in terms of all of my goals. I was eating well, not drinking, working out like a fiend. I saw the results in the numbers on the scale and in compliments from the sorta/kinda ex (not sure what to call him at this point). Then I got sick.

And, dear readers, sick and working out like a fiend do not work well together. I did go to the gym on Friday morning and worked out harder and longer than I should have - this may have contributed to getting sick. Also, sick and eating well don't necessarily work together. I wasn't a total jabba the hut but I was not as strict as I might have been diet-wise.

So, these are my setbacks. These setbacks showed themselves mainly in the numbers on the scale. The sorta/kinda ex was also not as full of compliments as he had been just days before (admittedly there are a number of reasons this might be that have nothing to do with any visible setback - but the mean inner voice can be a powerful thing). The scale said I gained 7+ pounds in 4 days. That is impossible. My rational mind says that is not right - but the scale says it is - so it must be so. My clothes don't fit 7 pounds heavier, but the scale says it is so. So it must be so. This set back has given my defeatist inner voice some strength - "see you can't do it", "you'll never be thin again, why bother", "you have no discipline", etc.

I have decided that it is what you do in these set back moments that define who you are as a person. Everyone can be happy and self-confident in moments of progress. It takes a powerful inner reserve to move yourself forward after a set-back. To not give in you have to dig deep and quiet that annoying voice (and it is sooooo annoying). You have to pick yourself up, stop the downhill slide and move forward on the path that was making you happy (and, consequently, getting you closer to your goals). So, this morning, I ate my protein bar for breakfast and packed my bag for my date with Pete. I may not be as energetic in class as I was last week, but I will be at spin class. And I will have salad for lunch. And I will move myself forward the best that I can.

So, dear readers, today I will struggle with that annoying voice and work hard to move myself forward and to not let a couple days of setback define my progress as a person.

Take care of yourself, I'll be taking care of me.

Free at Last!

It occurred to me today that for the first time in my life the path of my life is totally, 100% up to me. It is freeing, exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

When you are a child you are expected to go to school through high school. And then, if you are like me, you are expected to go to college. After college, I went to law school of my own prescription. And then after law school I worked hard to achieve in my professional career. At this point, lots of other women also take the mommy track - get married, have children, etc. When you do that much of your life is prescribed for you by the growth and care of your children (and husband).

I realized this morning that my life and where I go from here is 100% in my own hands. I don't have children to care for, a husband to care for, I've reached the highest position in my chosen field (as a government attorney). Now I get to the fun stuff - what do I want to do?

I came up with some small things that I'd like to try: rock climbing, rafting the Colorado River, taking a cross country bike tour. And some bigger things: own my own home, drive a convertible, think about the next career steps for me (consultant?, bigger agency?, specialize?, move?).

These are exciting times, and at 34, my whole life is ahead of me and I have been relieved of all societal expectations. The rest of my life can be lived exactly as I want to live it. If I want to move to Mexico and open a bar, I can do it. If I want to escape to Darwin, Australia and be off the map for a year or so, I can do it. If I want to get married, have children, a picket fence and a dog, I can do that, too.

What a great opportunity!

So, dear reader, take care of yourself - I'll be planning my next move.

Professional Struggles

As I have mentioned before, I am using this space to help me work through my issues one by one. This one is related to my career. I said earlier that I am an attorney. I also said that being smart was "my thing." Well, let me tell you, dear reader, law schools are filled with smart people. I did well in my law school (a top 25 law school at that) and graduated cum laude. Despite this academic success, I could not find a job to save my life. This failure to land a job became the first major disappointment/failure in my life. It sent me into a fairly significant depression for a couple months in law school. I remember staying in my room and crying for hours. I was inconsolable (I do have a flair for the dramatic).

Eventually, I picked myself up and moved on. I moved to Florida with my ex-husband and in December after I graduated landed a job in labor and employment law (I was very picky back then) in Tallahassee, Florida. That job jaded me towards plaintiff's work and my ex-husband had moved to Atlanta, so I applied for jobs in Atlanta and took the first one that was offered: a staff attorney at the Department of Corrections. That job was where I truly began to flourish as an attorney and a professional. I had a fantastic mentor at that job who really took an interest and no small amount of pride in hiring and cultivating bright young attorneys. This man became, and still is, a father figure to me. I should have recognized how good I had it at the time, but I was still carrying an inferiority complex from my failure to get a big firm job. I left this job at the DoC three times. Once for defense work (I lasted 6 months) and then for the AG's office (I lasted 4 months). I needed to try out my options before I was able to admit to myself that government advisory work was what I enjoyed most. I enjoy drafting policies (God help me), statutes, and working with employees/managers to solve every day problems. It was after my stint at the AG's office that I determined that I was a "government attorney." At the DoC I wrote landmark legislation relating to the management of probationers, and did a wholesale revision the inmate grievance procedure. At the risk of sounding vain, I was very, very good at my job. I knew the intricacies of probation and corrections law backwards and forwards (and they are fairly complicated and intricate).

Despite my mastery of this position, my ex-husband continually poo poo'ed my job both to me and in front of others. I was always the person who had to go home to handle things (I made half what he did), he would comment to people that I was "just" a government attorney. This stung. It is amazing the toll that off hand comments can take - that is something for me to remember in my everyday dealings (and you too, dear reader).

As soon as I realized that I was meant to be a government attorney, I set my sights on eventually landing a job as General Counsel of a state agency. Two years ago I applied for the General Counsel position at a lesser known agency. I was hopeful, but not too much, I knew I was awfully young to land this kind of position. My boss was rooting for me. My ex-husband told me flat out that he didn't think I would get it.

Much to my surprise, in January of 2006 the agency called me and offered me the position. I was ELATED! It was a Tuesday and I remember calling my ex-husband to see if he wanted to go out and celebrate this new achievement. I remember he told me no, it was a week night. What a slap in the face. I was so disappointed. I contacted a friend of mine and she and I went for drinks, of course I had to leave early so that I could pick the dog up from doggy day care.

It has taken me some time to grasp and hang on to the fact that, for my age, I have achieved a great deal. I am general counsel of a state agency! People look to me for guidance and advice on a daily basis - and they listen to me and respect me. I don't have to be a "big firm" lawyer to have value as either a person or as an attorney. I am doing the greater good for society (or something like that). Most of my "big firm" lawyer friends have either gone the mommy track and work part time or they now work for government as well (some part time). Life has come full circle and I am beginning to realize that perhaps I have had the better deal all along.

Part of my "recovery" of myself is to take back all the self-esteem and respect that eroded out of me over the last several years. My job is important to me and it is vital that I accept and recognize that it is a great achievement and something to be proud of.

So, take care dear readers, we're going to trial in the next week or two, so I'll be taking care of that...

Revelation!

My progress forward will come in fits and spurts. This morning (just now in fact) - I had a revelation. I don't need to buy into all that crap that was put on me about beauty. I have the right to be pretty (I look very nice today despite the fact that I feel like crap) and be taken seriously. Screw what the world says. I deserve that. I deserve respect for being the person I want to be. And I want to look good AND be smart and respected for my mind and personality.

I deserve this and more. I will no longer let the world's preconception about beauty weigh me down. The mentor that told me I needed to dress less sexy needed to get a life. I wasn't dressing sexy and didn't need to change how I dressed to be taken seriously. I can only guess at her motivation but that is not my problem and is certainly something I shouldn't be carrying into my future.

I have worked hard for my professional success and I have worked hard to look good. I deserve to be able to reap the benefits of both without apologizing or making excuses in either realm.

So, dear reader, I am taking that with me into the world today. Take me as I am - pretty and smart. And deal with it.

I've Made It! And Other Random Thoughts

I am an attorney. Yes, really. I worked for the Department of Corrections for 7 years and was never named in a lawsuit by an inmate. I don't know how this happened, some would say that I must not have been doing my job well enough.

But, I've finally done it. I have been named in a lawsuit by a student in one of my colleges! Yippee!

It also appears that I have finally done it in another way - I believe I'm sick. I never get sick. And when I do get sick it is generally just for a day or a half day. I have a remarkable immune system for some reason. But the last two days I woke up with a stuffy nose and yucky throat. I believe that I am, officially, and undeniably, sick. This comes at a bad time (is it ever a good time?) as I have a full day and am fully scheduled until 8pm tonight. Luckily, I took tomorrow off so that I could spend some time with my mother so at least I can sleep in tomorrow.

Also, for those of you who might have been confused about my stance on beauty yesterday. I am not saying it is a purely negative thing. It is just that I have a complicated relationship to looking good. It is not always a positive thing for me, but it is something I am always striving for - so I am learning to deal with it. Or trying to - a big test will come the next time I am asked out by someone I am not interested in. The old me would simply say yes and go, or give my office number and try to weasel out of it some other way. The new me plans to look the person in the eye and say politely but firmly, "no, thank you." Some people take the time after their divorce to go out and hook up/date whomever is interested. It is my challenge to only date those who interest me and to tell the myriad others (I am somewhat picky, dear reader) that I am not interested.

Of course, this is all assuming that anyone asks me out!

Take care, dear reader. I'll be huddled up with a bowl of chicken noodle soup...

Double Edged Sword of Beauty

Girls are conditioned to want to be beautiful. I remember the first time looking good became a real issue to me. I was 11 or 12, right before puberty. I was heavy and was up north with my grandma, aunt, sister and cousins. I can't remember how the issue came up, but I remember liking a particular bathing suit and being told by my grandma (and aunt?) that it was not flattering. To prove their point, they took pictures of me in several of my suits and showed them to me. They were right - the one I liked was not as flattering. It did not matter to anyone that it was the suit I felt most comfortable in or that I liked the best. And none of them were flattering, I was a somewhat chubby kid before I went through puberty. But what I got out of that interaction was that looking good mattered. It's kind of ironic that the message was carried to me by my grandmother who always claimed that she was ugly because of her crooked nose. Perhaps she wanted her grandchildren to be beautiful. I don't know, but looks always seemed to matter to her. They did not, however, ever matter to my mother. To this day she still thinks I'm beautiful and clever and all those other great adjectives that only mothers can apply to you.

I am not a beauty queen. My looks have ranged from beautiful (when I'm at my favorite weight and try a little), to cute, to pretty, to downright frumpy (a term I learned to apply to myself thanks to my ex-husband). I just say that so you don't think I'm full of myself.

But good looks have not always been good luck for me. I mentioned that before puberty I was heavy. After puberty, I was slim - except for in one place. I had larger breasts than most of the girls in my class. I am sure this sounds like a dream to some women, but at age 13 and in 8th grade all you want to do is fit in. Big breasts and red hair do not equal fitting in. This was the first time I realized that being attractive was not necessarily a good thing. The summer after my 8th grade year I was assaulted by someone I was "dating." It is a source of neverending shame. I said no. I said it several times. I even physically fought him off. None of that worked, obviously. There is a lot of second guessing that can go into a situation like that. I came to grips with what happened weeks later. All I learned is that being pretty/desirable did not suit me.

Years passed. I was 19, in my first real summer internship after college working for an arts council. We were putting together an arts fair in a midwestern city. I loved my job. I took it quite seriously. I was working with a woman that was my mentor. I bought professional clothes. I was 19 (yes, I know I said that before). One day I was taken aside by this female mentor of mine that I so looked up to; she told me that if I wanted to be taken more seriously I needed to dress less "sexy." Dear reader, if you don't know me this may sound like reasonable advice. But if you knew me you'd know that I don't dress sexy at work. At all. This was a huge blow to me. My looks were now getting in the way of my professional career. And I have never been considered a beauty. I've always been considersed smart. That is my thing. So this was something that shook me. This conversation occurred within 6 weeks of an acquaintance assault in my dorm. Once again I learned that being pretty did not suit me. I gained 20 pounds in the next year.

It is easy to hide behind weight. If I get rejected because of my weight I can brush it off. I can always lose weight, you'll always be a jerk. Every time I lose weight, bad things seem to happen. In law school, I had an interviewer spend the entire time figuring out who I looked like just to come up with Nicole Kidman (I don't look like her) and then he switched from talking about the position to talking about his boat on the ocean.

Every time I screw up my self confidence and feel like I look good - something negative happens. Someone inappropriate hits on me. Someone rubs my leg at a professional dinner. Why does being attractive equate to an invitation to everyone to walk all over you?

I have started to come to grips with the fact that, at least for now, I'm cute. I am working to embrace this while still demanding respect in my social and professional life. For a girl who is basically a people pleaser this is hard.
But I'm trying. I hope to be able to share some serious victories in the near future. Stay tuned, dear reader....

Pleasing Pete

I know, I know - I said that I wasn't going to please anyone but myself. But I'm working to please Pete. Pete is incredibly demanding. He demands my absolute best. Pushes me beyond my limits. And yet I enjoy spending time with him. And I enjoy the way I feel when I please him. And did I mention that he's cute? Really cute!

You see, Pete, is my spin instructor. And he kicked my ass tonight! I like Pete - he has great and varied spin programs, good music - and he always inspires me to push myself. Pete's motto: "Change is Choice."

I started out class checking myself out in the mirror. And while my ponytail looked awesome - I was otherwise critical of myself. My stomach is too fat, my legs are too fat, my form isn't good - negative, negative, negative. By the end of the class I was impressed with how hard I worked, I noticed that I have some serious definition at the tops of my shoulders, and I thought I even looked cute through all that sweat. In short - Pete turned my attitude around. Well, I turned my attitude around with Pete's help.

All I know is don't go looking for me on Tuesday nights from 5:30 to 6:30 - I'm all Pete's.

Take care of yourself. I'll be pleasing Pete...

Note to My Readers

A dear friend of mine emailed me last night worried about me after reading this blog. She was concerned that I was bearing too much of my soul on the open wasteland that is the internet. She was concerned that things I said would hurt my ex-husband. She was worried about my safety. I appreciate all her concerns.

Please know, dear readers, that this blog contains my deepest and inner most thoughts - if that is something you cannot handle to read, please take a break from reading this blog for a couple weeks. I need this outlet for my inner voice - the one I am trying to heed. Writing here gives that voice a creative outlet and has helped to make it stronger. Your comments and emails have helped encourage this voice as well.

And please don't worry about me. Just because I am going through some hard times does not mean I am not the same strong person you have always known. I am just growing, becoming stronger, more sure of myself and more sure of what I want out of my life. This is all a good thing, but no growth comes without pain. And I have shared, in these pages, my pain.

As for her concerns about hurting my ex-husband - I don't want to hurt him unnecessarily and will strive to keep from doing so. However, most of what has already been written in this blog is stuff that he knows or should have known.

So, dear readers - this has been my first test. I am doing something that is not meeting the approval of one of my dear friends. The old me would have gone back and erased the post that bothered her (Elephant in the Room). The new me stands behind that post. That post was difficult to write, difficult to publish and difficult to read. I am proud that I have faced down that demon (and continue to face it down). I am proud of my progress. I am proud of the me I am becoming and I will not hide the process because it disturbs some people.

I hope you understand, dear reader. And if you do not, please come back in a couple weeks to see if I've gone back to reviewing restaurants. You can't keep restaurant hound down forever!

Take care of yourself. I'll be taking care of me...