I don’t know where this sticker came from, but it stuck itself to this pen in my purse, and just yes.
I have been trying to make vacation plans to visit New England next month. I am not a planner by nature. My retirement situation will be anyone’s guess. I think my plan was that Armageddon would take care of it, but here I am at 46 and if the world as we know it doesn’t end in the next 20 years, then I’m going to have to snag the nearest wealthy elderly bachelor. *fingers crossed*
Anyway. Vacation. That is one thing I miss about my ex-husband. He would ask me where I wanted to go on vacation, would completely disregard what I said and make plans for elsewhere, but at some point we would end up in another state or country and I didn’t have to do anything but pack. It was magic. I miss vacations that are arranged by someone else (and also way more posh), although I’m getting fairly good at organizing smallish trips and it’s kind of satisfying.
So. New England. The week before Thanksgiving. People tell me that it will be too late for the leaves and it’ll possibly be snowing and be a kind of a dreary no man’s land as far as scenery. Not the point of this trip. I’m going up to see family and friends and have the Significant Other experience an area he’s never seen before and the flights and hotels are affordable. That is, so far, unless my S.O. dawdles around past this coming Tuesday, when they could shoot up about $600 each. He is even less of a planner than I am as far as fun stuff, but I bet his 401K looks pretty good. And to add to the little puzzle in progress, I invited my mom (indecisive) and sister (non-committal) to join us. In their defense, I said something like “I need to know by around tomorrow”, but I could have given them months and gotten the same reaction. Current status: Mom would like to go and is asking her employer, S.O. is on board (good, because he’s paying for most of it), sister is unable. This trip is a castle built on sand. Fortunately, I learned as a child not to count my chickens before they hatch. It was a real bummer of a learning experience, but it comes in handy as an adult.
Funny not funny
I read a post by my favorite blogger today; mimismartypants.com. She is smart and funny and observant and all the things and can put it together perfectly. I often have to Google terms, events, products, books, artists, etc, that she writes about because she is so much cooler than I. (Of course I want to say “cooler than me”, but that’s not proper English and so I can’t leave it like that. Sigh. I can hear my teacher/mentor telling me to pretend-finish the sentence in my head like “she is so much cooler than I (am cool)”.)
Back to Mimi. She referenced someone in her latest post who I am now obsessed with. If my coworker would leave me alone so I could concentrate, I would write this blog entry and stalk Ruby to my heart’s content all day today.
So I referenced before, maybe in my first post, that I take some mild anti-depressants to take the edge off and allow me to not want to die every day. So helpful! I love how much I love my flat-lined emotions. I am unflappable, I tell you. I spent my childhood either raging or crying or rage-crying and now this is quite the respite and I revel in it. So-and-so died? That is a bummer!**
Years ago, I worked with a woman who could have used some meds but didn’t want to lose the highs with the lows. I get that, but I also feel that the decisions I’ve made while on highs weren’t that good for me, either. I still get moderately down sometimes and I still laugh a lot, so I’m good at this level.
My point, finally, sort of, is that creative people seem to have some angst and they use that to create. I have never been creative, but I want to be, and now my angst is waning and so I don’t even have that little step-stool toward creativity. This Ruby person obviously struggles and is hilarious. She is also from England, so I find her comments extra hilarious. My dad has that, but he doesn’t put it on paper. (The angst, not the being from England.) He should, but he hasn’t so far. When I was struggling, I didn’t have the capacity to make it funny or the talent to draw or write about it. Kudos to those that do that for the rest of us. Maybe if I dig down deep, I can come up with some old memories to use when I learn to sketch.
But what about me
I’m trying to study up on boundaries. I don’t really have any and never have. If you ask me a personal question, I will answer it. If you do something I don’t like, I won’t tell you about it. I’m discussing this with my therapist, but I figure if something is not a big deal, it’s not worth making a thing of it. Also related: saying no. I have been practicing this a bit more, but still have a long way to go. It feels so selfish to put myself first. The analogy of putting on my own oxygen mask before attempting to save others on the disabled plane helps somewhat. I think of people (women in particular) who work full-time, are married (or not), have kids, take online classes, work out, cook, clean, take care of their elderly parents and still have time to volunteer. I’m doing only a fraction of those things and so why should I say no if someone needs something of me? My parents helped everyone when I was growing up and now they suggest I do too much for others and should say no.
No offense to my therapist, but she seems like a person who might draw boundaries before they even needed to be drawn. Like, strike one, you’re out and I don’t mind being the baddie that calls you down. That seems a little harsh and I don’t want to be totally unapproachable. Or ‘nice to meet you, here’s how it’s going to be’. Also not my style.
I should probably do some actual work, so here’s a quote to ponder from the app called We Croak: “When it’s over I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement.” – Mary Oliver
**This sentiment does not apply to family members or other select people close to me. I can’t even imagine their passing. Literally cannot think of it yet because that abyss is way too deep. There is also a good handful of famous people that I would be sorry to see go. The S.O. says it’s silly to mourn for famous people because we don’t know them personally, but I think we can value their ideas and talent and be sad when they die. They are people that exist and then are gone. That leaves a hole in the universe at least temporarily.