the Itis revisited

I've noticed an interesting relationship between my physical health and my emotional health. It seems that when my body is sick, it's easier for my head to also be sick.
Since I've contracted the plague, I've been feeling very low, very needy....very "please don't leave me." This is not my natural state. Really. And the funny(haha)thing is that I feel this way every time I'm ill.

I really think that when our bodies feel puuey(pronounced peYouE -say it fast with no syllable break), our emotional well being suffers. When my body doesn't feel right, I have a very hard time feeling right with the inside Me.

As this is being typed, Bonnie Tyler is singing her feathered little heart out about how "It's a heartache and life sucks and men are mean and whatever..."
When I feel like this I just want to whine and be taken care of. The bitch is that I can never assume any one person will ever take care of me. Cold and cynical as this may seem, as a rule you can't count on another person to stay, care and always do what they say they'll do.

I know lots of people today who would do what they say but they're smart enough to not promise anything except that they're okay and I'm okay.
And the hardest part is that sometimes with some people I want more than that. That's me being sick and codependent.

membrane

Steven and Morgan gave me the plague. Thanks a pant-load.

Apparently this is a taste of life with a small child. I'm trying to get Morgan to say she's a tumor. It's not sticking the way some phrases are. She's almost 4 and she seems to like me. Those two facts in tandem really freak me out sometimes. I've known her almost a quarter of her life AND she likes me. I must keep in mind that at this age, she doesn't know any better. Steven told me I get to teach her about her dot when she hits tween-hood. Yikes.

So, I spend a lot of time with them and the three of us are pretty invested. It's a nice, roomy cage-feeling. Safe/a tad scary as opposed to repellent.

I guess I'm okay with getting the Day-Care-Cough-Cold-Mucusy plague a while longer.

The Art of Control

And really, it's not just for continence pants.


The cosmic "they" said, "Relax. Hey, all work and no play and blah blah blah....You're so wound up yak yak..." But what "they" don't know is If I ever relaxed, even for a split second, then my whole world would just fall apart in a blaze of everything happening with out my interference.

Boogety, boogety.

If I were to let go, I might just learn that the universe if fine without my opinions, fussings and pot stirrings.

It's the sun that Earth revolves around. I'm only supposed to be along for the ride.

AHHhhh
h
h
h
h
h
h....

At least I still have a say over what color hoodie I wear today. Hmmm, Pumpkin orange.

retail, wholesale, sailing away

Ahhhh....belts and bearings. Like I actually know what I'm talking about. Take a guess. Do I strike you as a girl who's handy? Not so much. But if you hum a few bars, I could fake it. 'Cause fakin' it's what I do best.

If I could miniturize Paul Simon and carry him on my shoulder, he'd go everywhere with me. He'd sing songs appropriate to whatever's going on at the moment. "Hmmm mmm mmm smoking a cigarette.....avoiding the tedious stuff.....No need to be fair, Claire. Just listen to me....fifty ways to ruin a plaque without really trying....," and so on.

If I keep up this isolation for too much longer, I think I'll forget what human interaction feels like. Already I struggle with having a coherent conversation with that guy in my life. You know, the guy who's everything to everybody.....well...not everybody. Does separation make you bitter too? Are you as sick (and a little sad) as me?

Perhaps I'll shave my legs tonight because I like the way they feel. Or draw myself a spooky Clockwork Orange eye and dress myself in the height of fashion - tights and codpiece? Watch a movie and pretend to enjoy it? Read more subversive feminist literature and savor yet another way I can be a failure?

My X isn't talking to my Y today. Don't even ask me about the Z. He's toast.

is it strange to dance so late?

In past few months, I've discovered that I actually do want a family.

Would God place it on my heart to desire to be a mother if I were not someday well-suited to be one? I keep wondering if I will ever be up to the task of raising a family. I wonder if there's a person out there for me to have a family with. I keep wondering if this feeling is a phase I'll grow out of in time. Is this feeling with me for the rest of my life?

I work so hard to have the faith that things that should happen will happen. I keep feeling nosy about God's design for me. Patience is hard, virtues are really hard; thus I conclude that patience is probably a virtue and it is really, really hard.

the age of solar

Lately, I feel like I do everything out of instinct. Like that my left foot follows my right. I'm moving almost fast enough to keep from falling over. The emotional arms in my gut/heart/soul/inner what-have-you are pinwheeling. How does one regain balance in an unbalanced world?

I do what I'm supposed to do, but with no zest or passion. So many things are changing that I feel like I'm standing still. That's my position: Standing still, facing front. Not perpendicular to the Earth. More like a 79 degree angle. Every thing's okay, but also a little off. No....a lot off. So off that what was normal is now inverted and hazy.

I'm going to go find a brownie or a milkshake or something.
Cheers.

I told my ovaries they had one hour to pack up and get out.

This morning, my charming boyfriend brought flowers to me at work.

Awwwwwwww.

The first question that comes to mind is: What's wrong with him?
Followed by: Why should there be anything wrong with him?
Followed by: Why am I obsessing?

That last one was a good one, no? This guy I'm with is maybe the most positive male-type person to happen to me since my step-dad. And I met my step-father when I was born.

That sounds extreme, but it's pretty accurate. I haven't known a lot of men who were good for me. That's not all any one person's fault. Part of that is the hand I was dealt, and part of that is the bad choice after bad choice I made while feeling victimized by the hand I was dealt.

So, I obsess about not being good enough for an amazing man in my life who loves me. And I figure I don't deserve him or his beautiful little girl. Even though they must think I'm worth being around.

Knowing and knowing are two different things. And, while it's obvious I'm loved, wanted and dare-I-say, needed......it's hard for me to convince me that it's for real.

That's how sick I can be.