Angry, Frustrated and Dissappointed...

Boys are stupid. OK, that's not fair. There are a big group of boys up here who are stupid though. Like, I want to beat their heads in with shovels, stupid.

Trying to explain would be pointless, tedious and probably boring to the outside observer, but sufficed to say a boy here at camp has managed to prove to me that all the growth I thought I had witnessed recently was almost as big a farce as his actual behavior on Friday. What's worse is that he knows I'm mad and I don't know how to explain this to him.

The good news is though, that I have accepted that I truly dislike someone else on staff after trying for three long years to get along with him. I have decided that is OK. Really.

So I am getting over it.

Why I haven't written

There were so many stories I wanted to tell.

When I looked up from the counter of the hotel and noticed that my van, with Nana in it, was moving. Now I knew the keys were in the car and that it was on, but there was no driver. So I swore at the clerk and went racing out the door, my heart in my throat, to discover that my brother, the big jerk, had snuck up, gotten behind the wheel and driven off expressly to scare me witless. Did I mention he's a big jerk!

That Nana had one of her loopy phases and kept announcing that she needed to get home and putting on her coat when we were at my brother's apartment, so we hid her coat. She simply put on mine.

That the young man who did that horrific thing to me got fired, or he decided to leave, or whatever, but he's gone. Theoretically I never have to see him again. He e-mailed me to tell me this was a big "miscommunication" (he wasn't let go because of me, by the way, there was another issue) and I wrote him a detailed e-mail explaining why that was the dumbest thing I had ever heard and explaining in detail how he hurt me... I stood up for myself and it was a good thing.

That one of my dearest friends is engaged and I am so excited for her.

That once again everyone around me is getting pregnant and I'm afraid I am a fertility goddess... Which just confirms that I better be careful who I choose to be intimate with, I would probably get pregnant the first time, therefore...

Anyway, I wanted to talk about all of those things and more, but I can't.

Because.

Something is wrong. I don't know what, or why, or how to explain it, but there is. Maybe it has nothing to do with me, but something worries me that it does. I have this thing with paranoia, but that doesn't mean someone isn't out to get me... j/k.

What I mean is I think there is something wrong with someone I am friends with. I don't know if I did something wrong, or if they are hurting or if it's something completely unexpected, but I feel that there is something not right. But I can't ask or push. So I have to wait and see. That is really hard. (Update: Turns out I really am just a paranoid freak... Nevermind!)

Further, I fear that I am about to hurt another friend. Something that I thought would work, now seems that it won't, and I have to tell them. I am disapointed, and I think they will be too, but I know it's the right thing. Course, I also am still hoping they will be my friend and even help me out on another, but related cunundrum. How big a jerk does that make me?

Nana will probably go into a retirement home in May and I will be alone, at least till camp, provided I go, which might not work the way I wanted it to either. Being alone terrifies me in ways I can't explain and while I know this is the right step I feel so guilty for not being strong enough to keep Nana longer.

Then of course there is the general camp politics. People never do things the way I want them to, when I want them to. There is this really terrific opportunity in the north for camp, for my assistant for three weeks, and everyone agrees that it is a terrific thing, and they want it too, willing to go the extra mile and all that, but when "they get around to it..." and I want them to take care of it now, so it's settled.

Anyway.

All this, especially the paranoia, is why I haven't written.

What?

So I was at Kroeger's shopping for a couple ingredients for this soup I like to make and had decided spur of the moment to put together and I bumped into a scout master that I know from camp. We started talking, about camp things, and we walked toward the door.

He's a nice guy. Bigger guy, huge grey beard and a big smile. Anyway, we were talking about camp-outs and his troop and he handed me his card and told me to call him and he would make me dinner and we'd watch a movie. He added that he had about 600. For some reason I thought we were still talking about scouts and camping and that he meant 600 scouts! I said sure. He smiled real big then. I added that we aught to talk about me working with his boys sometime on First Aid and CPR... He said,

"We'll get to that eventaully."

And that was when I knew that I had actually tentatively accepted a date. Now I'm the one with his card and I'm supposed to call/e-mail him. First of all, not how I do things, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. Secondly, well, not what I was thinking of when I met him. Though I am trying to keep an open mind...

How do I manage to do this stuff? I really am dense.

Isn't that just me?

Giggly School Girl

Crush spent almost two hours working on the components of a practical joke on me. It didn't quite work out the way they wanted it to, but I couldn't help but smiling all day to think that I inspired this in him and that I was on his mind all evening the night before.

How silly is that?

I'm so glad I have perspective on this. I haven't had this much fun with a crush since high school.

It's nice. He really is a great guy and I enjoy his company. Hopefully we will be friends a long time. Something tells me we will. Even after this crush nonsense is long over. It will pass I am sure.

But I am enjoying the giddies in the meantime.

giggle

This Morning

He texted to appologize. Then we spoke on the phone for a bit. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but I think he meant it when he appologized again.

And every time it happens I say next time that will be it, no more friendship.

This time I caved, but at least I said something.

Maybe next time I will carry through the rest of the way.

Maybe it won't happen again.

Is this co-dependence or is this growth. I don't know the answer.

Oh, and I spoke to the other him for an hour after work today. We talked so long it made me late to my work-out appt. I didn't care. It was so nice to just spend time with him. Maybe having someone else to talk to, to fill that void makes it easier to stand up to the other problem. Maybe it will be enough if next time comes.

We'll see.

So I am an angry coward. Great.

He did it again. He called me that word.

I promised myself if he did it again that would be it.

Instead I explain why I was angry.

He explained that he was trying and he would try to be more concious of the issue, and he also gave the excuse that it was a common word in his generation and this is me taking it personally.

So tonight I am angry at him and at me and I think I might be angrier at myself.

It's not fair that because he's an idiot that I could lose a friend. How is that fair? Why do I want to be friends with someone this stupid? How can I love someone like that? What does it say about me?

Why do I try to defend him to others who want to know why I put up with this?

And then there are all the times when he is such a great friend and the fact that he is still learning and growing and this is just hard and complicated and I just want him to stop calling me that under any circumstnaces.

Being a Grown-Up

This afternoon I was talking to a new teacher who was feeling a bit over-whelmed. One of the major concerns was feeling like they were flying by the seat of their pants all the time. I found myself laughing at their quasi-despair.

Another veteran teacher and I were talking about it later (gracious, doesn't that make us sound old, VETERAN!!!!) and what we told this very frustrated teacher.

First, all new teachers go through "The Dip," that time when reality kicks in and we feel overwhelmed and despair of our ability to get through to the children.

Second, contrary to popular theory, grown-ups do not have it any more together than anyone else. We frequently fly by the seat of our pants and just as often "fake it." Why should teaching be any different than the rest of the world?

Maybe being a grown-up is the moment that you realize that?

Perspective

Therapy intervenes.

This is the part where it gets pointed out to me that crushes are normal, I am normal and a crush is not a bad thing. Further there was a lot said to the effect that men and women are designed to be attracted to each other, in most male female freindships there is an imbalance of romantic attraction and that most effective adults simply acknowledge the feelings and then press on.

The therapist and I discussed what my options were. Discontinuing contact is not the answer nor a reasonable option considering the situation. IT wouldn't be fair to him, either, he didn't do anything wrong. Neither did I. Neither am I.

My therapist wanted to know why the idea of having a crush on someone was an idea that had me panicking and in tears. At first I wasn't sure. Still not really, except to say that crushes never work out for me. The idea that I find someone interesting garauntees they don't think of me as anything but a sexless, benevolant aunt. That is so good for my ego by the way.

So I am trying to look at this positively. I am going to learn to deal with these kinds of issues with out having nervous break downs and crying jags. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, while if he was a girl and we were just friends it would be appropriate, I will not invite him to dinner.

But I will enjoy the friendship and not panic in the meantime.

Perspective.

God, Help me!

"You are not arrogant, you are just really honest and you know what you can do."

"I wish I was more like you."

"I really admire that about you."

Stupid boys who have no idea what they are doing to my insides need to shut up.

No, you cannot be my writing partner, cannot direct shakespeare with me, cannot sit down and talk to me about what I know about literature.

Not a good idea.

I don't care how nice you are, how sweet you are, how earnest you are. You are playing with fire and you don't even know.

They don't see me as a woman and they don't think about what they do to me.

Oh, and he graduated from high school in '01. I'd been teaching for 2 years! He could have called me Miss X! Oh, heck no!

I am in so much trouble.

Trusted friend texts, "Go 4 it."

What an idiot! Another stupid boy. I am surrounded by stupid boys.

Why does this happen to me?

Crush

There is a good possibility that I am nursing a growing crush on someone. This is not a good thing. These things never end well and my heart always seems to get ripped to pieces. Often without the crush even ever knowing so they go on being a good friend. That makes it worse and all the more dysfunctional. Seeing it coming doesn't even help. I can't seem to stop it.

So I called a trusted friend and asked him to slap me stupid. He seems to think this is a good thing and laughed jovially. When I am in tears at three in the morning I'm calling his but, let me just tell you. We'll see how funny he thinks it is then.

This is going to be a problem, I can just tell. That's why I've avoided this situation, successfully I might add for years. No the previous situation does not count, it was not, nor ever will be a crush or true romantic entanglement it was just loneliness, stupidity and boundary issues. But that's the point. That wasn't a crush and see what a mess it was? Exactly!

This is going to be a disaster. God must find me really amusing. Here, let me put a jester hat on to complete the look.

Are you kidding me?

Monday greeted me with two parent emails.

The first was anonymous. You cannot be serious. What kind of ridiculous parent e-mails a teacher anonymously. What a moron. They were e-mailing to "inquire" aka complain about my vocabulary quizzing methods. My gut was to beat them like a rented mule verbally until they bled from every pore. Now, obviously, that is not what I did. I found an administrator. He recommended being positive and enforcing the idea that I do not punish students for moronic parents. So I did. However I had a long talk with all my classes about asking questions, why I was doing things the way I was and I may have mentioned that receiving anonymous e-mails tended to make me felt like I was being stalked. Hopefully that should clear up the issue.

The other e-mail was from a parent who is a teacher in my county. They were reaming me because I was forcing to make their child read obscene filth and further denying them their right to read the bible continuously in my class. This parent quoted three (count 'em) three passages of the students rights code at me. They also threatened to meet with meeting with the principal if I was not reasonable on this issue. So I being the reasonable god fearing individual that I am said... "Whatever you want. You tell me... That's fine!" Oh then the tune changes. I was wonderful. Further, I was the teacher and therefore he trusted me to pick what was best and necessary for his son.

The part that kills me was that by Tuesday afternoon a different student came and asked me if it was true that they could read The Left Behind Series in place of To Kill a Mockingbird. I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth. It is such a sad balance.

Parents are so crucial, and there are a lot of good ones out there. I've met them. It just seems like none of them are ever the parents of my students... That's not true. There have been some good ones of those too, it's just...

Really nice guy, new teacher at our school. I showed him my conundrums for the day. He laughed. He said it was nice to know that there there were always going to be pains in the butt, even after his first year. His laughter helped me keep the whole ridiculous mess in perspective.

But, still, are you kidding me?

Oh My!

Somtimes I think I must be God's Jester. I mean I must just give him rolling fits of laughter. Course, if that was the case, that would imply I try to be amusing and end up in these off the wall scenarios. I swear I don't work at it at all.

My brother and I had a conversation today about someone I know. My brother (the Southern Baptist Minister, I might add) refers to this individual by a a common nickname for the name Richard (and this person's name is not Richard, by the way.)

There is someone in my life that I find myself defending on a regular basis to the other people in my life that I care about. It's rather frustrating. They only see the one angle of the picture and I see the entire art work. To be fair, their assessment of the part they see is accurate, but there is so much more to this person.

Anyway, my brother kept calling him Richard. I pointed out that I was under the impression that in married life Richard is actually a really nice thing. My brother informed me that this was Richard with a gold ring and a leash, but I was dealing with an uncontrolled immature Richard and therefore should be more aware.

Poor Richard. They've never even met him and my family has issues with him. I imagine he would be apauled. Yet, regardless, I will stand by Richard in this stressful time in his life. He really is struggling and my heart goes out to him.

Figuring out our lives is such a difficult thing. My prayers are with Richard tonight.

I love this poem and it's totally how I felt today!

Cow
By Selima Hill

I want to be a cow
and not my mother’s daughter.
I want to be a cow
and not in love with you.
I want to feel free to feel calm.
I want to be a cow who never knows
the kind of love you ‘fall in love with’ with;
a queenly cow, with hips as big and sound
as a department store,
a cow the farmer milks on bended knee,
who when she dies will feel dawn
bending over her like lawn to wet her lips.

I want to be a cow,
nothing fancy –
a cargo of grass,
a hammock of soupy milk
whose floating and rocking and dribbling’s undisturbed
by the echo of hooves to the city;
of crunching boots;
of suspicious-looking trailers parked on verges;
of unscrupulous restaurant-owners
who stumble, pink-eyed, from stale beds
into a world of lobsters and warm telephones;
of streamlined Japanese freighters
ironing the night,
heavy with sweet desire like bowls of jam.

The Tibetans have 85 words for states of consciousness.
This dozy cow I want to be has none.
She doesn’t speak.
She doesn’t do housework or worry about her appearance.
She doesn’t roam.
Safe in her fleet
of shorn-white-bowl-like friends,
she needs, and loves, and’s loved by,
only this –
the farm I want to be a cow on too.

Don’t come looking for me.
Don’t come walking out into the bright sunlight
looking for me,
black in your gloves and stockings and sleeves
and large hat.
Don’t call the tractorman.
Don’t call the neighbours.
Don’t make a special fruit-cake for when I come home:
I’m not coming home.
I’m going to be a cowman’s counted cow.
I’m going to be a cow
and you won’t know me.

Source: Astley, Neil (ed.) (2002) Staying Alive: real poems for unreal
times, Tarset: Bloodaxe.

The poetry book this is from, by the way, Staying Alive, totally awesome. It's a book everyone should have. There is another poem in there, called "A Puppy Called Puberty" that is terrific. Hysterical too.

Waiting

In order to wait for something you have to believe that something is coming.

So, I'm not waiting.

I'm just standing here.

Alone.

It's a funny thing the cycles of emotion we go through. Some days I really am thrilled, fullfilled, satisfied and then other days I'm not.

Which day is which has no bearing on reality or events, simply how I feel.

I also think if you've been hoping for milk your whole life and in the end all you get is Skim, you may enjoy it, it may be the best, as far as you've tased, but you still got gyped on the deal. Waiting for the Skim milk you have to bolt down because your time is almost up. After watching so many others throw away the whole milk they could have had their whole lives to enjoy...

It's late, I'm most likely hormonal, and it has not been a good weekend, really.

Not that anything happened, particualarly, just that for whatever reason this weekend I am just standing, not waiting, and I have never liked Skim milk.

Sparks

So I went on a "date" last week. It was nice, he was nice, and I had a nice time. He's older and for all that I have Nana his life is much more complicated thatn mine. OK. That in and of itself doesn't bother me. His complications don't scare me much anyway (and it's not like he's married or works for the CIA, just so you know...) but...

Oh here we go...

There is potential there, so it's not like there was nothing, and you know I don't believe in love at first sight, instant chemistry or lightning...

but,

I guess I expected somthing more, a connection, a click...

Add to that, he only e-mailed once so far, three lines and no reply to my babble.

I accept complications, and I'm not writing him off, I understand obligations, but...

My gut tells me this wasn't it.

I'm working hard, I'm busy and I have a lot going on, not to mention going for me, and it's really not a big deal. I'm not upset, though maybe a bit disappointed, and I'm not sulking, fretting or pineing...

But in the absense of the sparks, I find that this evening I am as usualy, sitting in the dark.

If this was what was nessesary to clear out the cobwebs of past confusions, it was worth it and I'll take it. I'm used to the dark anyway.

But I was hopeful.

Two Cent Psychologist on Marriage

Today a friend of mine asked me a serious question.

Question: When do you think is an OK age to get engaged? Or when are you to young? Is there a certain number?

Answer: Yep, I remember that age, that experience, watching all the rings being exchanged around me and thinking “What the heck?” I’ve gone through that wave several times and now there are also the waves of people getting pregnant too. As someone who has neither been engaged or pregnant, I might not be the best to advise on this issue, but the upshot to watching so many is that I have been able to notice a couple things, objectively, of course.

First, engagements always seem to come in waves, and there will be more in your immediate life time. The point being, it’s not just your age group. It just seems to happen that way. I’m not sure if it’s like the original idea that everyone ends up having simultaneously or what, but that’s the way it works. College tends to be ripe with it, especially in the senior year because 1) college is one of the best places to meet people of similar interests and ambitions while working on said similar interests and ambitions (rather than the older model of dating the children of your parent’s friends who had similar socio-economics and culture and all lived in a 100 mile radius) and 2) the idea of being out on your own in the world as a grown up is crippling and so people tend to try to put a “hold” on something. A wedding is a way to not be going out in the world alone. You know?

It’s funny. When I was your age (Oh God, here we go…) I wanted to be married. I looked around at my friends with their boy friends and grand plans and (as much as I actually dislike them) weddings and I thought, “why not me?” and “I’m missing out!” and all the other things girls think when their friends get married, especially their best friends. But here’s the thing. The people that were really ready to get married are still the same people, they are just as happy and it didn’t matter if they were of the older or younger variety (and I have watched both). The ones that were not ready, oddly enough it had nothing to do with their age either. They are just as unhappy. My Dad wasn’t really good and ready to be married until after 20 years of marriage when my mother left him… That’s why he’s so happy with my step mom, but they were both in their mid forties at their wedding. At 31 I find myself thinking I had no clue at 22 what I wanted in life and had no business thinking I should yoke my life to someone else’s. Watching my friend and her husband together almost seven years later, just proves that point to me. And they are the happy ones, I think!

They have shown that all these religious Baptist kids who get married so early so they can legally have sex, are all also getting divorced before they are 30. How terrible is that? Some people think six months is the perfect engagement. Just enough time to plan a wedding. Let me just tell you. These young people often need to be engaged a long time, to really figure this whole thing out and make sure it’s a good idea (and that does not and should not include living together…!) and yet a lot of these older folks just need enough time to send out invitations, because they already know their own minds and are ready.

Engagement (or marriage) should not be about checking a box, or panicking at the thought of being on your own. It’s not even about raising children with someone(and all the parts necessary before that…) it’s about looking at who is running the same race there beside you and is on the same track and whom you won’t mind running next to for the rest of your life (dun dun dun!) I think Josh Harris said something about can you picture them at 60 and does it make you smile...

Honestly with the exception of childbearing being easiest when you are in your early 20’s I see few reasons to be married before the age of 25… You don’t have diabetes (males who are careless with insulin tend to be impotent before they turn 40… though there are drugs for that now…), you are not a missionary (who is going out into the unknown and needs to take a wife with them), you have not been dating this girl for the better part of your life, making this a forgone conclusion (and not a lot of people should really do it that way anyway, but…) and no one has gotten pregnant (thank God!... right?) The girl even told me she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life yet, and that’s a pretty big journey. You’re not sure what you are going to do yet either. None of these are conducive to that leap. I have friends who will tell you that kind of stuff doesn’t matter. That it’s all faith… I’ve heard that a lot. Of the six couples who went with that theory (that I know, anyway), two are divorced, two are miserable (and probably soon to be divorced) and two are “making it work.” I’m English, not math, but those don’t sound like good odds. Did I mention they were all Christians and while not all virgins, all abstained during courtship till wedding day. In that I mean by most religious standards they did it right, but they really didn’t, you know?

It’s not about wanting it or even needing it, it’s about waiting until being engaged and married is the most logical, reasonable course of action.

When my Dad met my step-mom he just knew. And even though I wasn’t thrilled with how fast they were going, it just made sense. No one could argue with that. There’s a couple in my church, he proposed on the third date and they were married two months later. Sounds hokey, but it just made sense. No one was flustered or panicked or trapped. The really great marriages that I have watched (not to say that everyone doesn’t have their rough spots, they do) all worked that way. Really.

The reason I have so much to is that my brother and I were talking about this yesterday. There was a lot of context that I'm not gonna get into (some mine, some his) but the bottom line was that marriage is hard. Good, wonderful, amazing, terrifying, desolating, agonizing... hard work. What boxer goes into a ring with out being prepared, being in shape, knowing their opponent, having a good coach, having the right equipment and knowing that this is what they absolutely and completely want with every part of their being? Not the ones who win, anyway.

I can't answer this question for you, in that I can’t just give you a number. But for what it is worth, that is my two cents.

Spend it wisely.

Adult Conversations

This week I have started to talking to someone new on the phone. It is a very new thing and I have no expectations, just the whole living for the moment of experience.

But...

I was struck as we spoke last night, even with it being a new relationship/friendship, getting to know each other, more information being exchanged than a back and forth conversation exchange, that this was the most adult conversation I had had outside of school in sometime.

What a difference.

I also find myself dreaming, hoping, wishing and wondering about how he hugs...

Maybe I'll find out, but in the mean time,

Here's to talking to grown-ups!

Oh, and no, I will not be giving out more information at this time. I'm just enjoying the moment... No need to get the cart before the horse...

Fingers Crossed, though.

Closure

So camp is over.

There were some conversations I wish I had scraped up the courage to have. There are some that I am proud of myself for not having.

I am sure in the clarity of hindsight there will be things I regret, but overall I think I handled this right.

For the most part, and it may be cowardly, I left it alone. There was no point to digging, even the sore opened in my heart seems to be healing over, so I am leaving it, as is.

I am even confidant in my ability to do this again, next year, though as always it will be different, further up the continuum. And I reserve the right to say no if I want to or need to.

We'll see.

I have learned this, this summer, I think.

I am of value and I matter. This camp may actually need me (at least right now) as much as I need it. There are lives here that I am touching and helping grow. There is more growing that I have yet to do. My heart may not be as dead and shriveled as I sometimes imagine that it is. There are worse things than being lonely. We can control our hearts if we want to, and that is not a bad thing. You can't force your heart to feel something, though, and that is OK too.

Oh, and boundaries are boundaries, and they are a good thing, and I have them and am aware of them and that is a good thing. Even if other people don't have them or use them or understand them, my awareness can be enough for both of us and I can at least protect myself, if not them.

But age, is just a number. Past 18 and high school, it has little to do with anything. Maturity, wisdom and experience are paramount. Time is necessary for those things, though, and some people really are slower than others. It can make you older, but it often makes you younger. If you are lucky it does both.

Last of all.

There is nothing finer in life, than the smile on the face of someone you helped.

Unsure, Confused, Tired...

It's Sunday and I had a nice weekend, but I am still very conflicted about some things and rapidly running out of time.

Early in the year I began to recognize that a situation I may or may not be in was probably not ideal and possibly not conducive to my emotional health for all that it met some real needs/gaps in my life. This summer sort of really brought that issue into the forefront.

So I recognized it, bemoaned it, and then promptly hid from it. But I knew there would be a reckoning.

Someone wise and trustworthy has come forward and said that they would step in and at least bring the situation to people's attention. I was grateful to dodge the bullet.

Now I am not sure.

In solving the problem I do stand to loose something of value to me. There will be a hole. Further there will be awkwardness and maybe even some pain.

If I was honest, I am not even sure I want the problem solved.

Except that I know it is probably a problem and probably not really right.

But after this summer there is a chance it will simply go away, so why can't I just wait.

If I don't let my friend step in for me, I still have time to do it myself, but... I'll have to do it myself. There are problems to that solution as well.

I really need to figure this out.

There is another possibility.

This is in my head, this is my problem, just a symptom of my staggering dysfunction as an adult in adult relationships.

My therapist and I agree that in many ways I arrested emotionally at the point when Mom left us. When I was 15. He says in many ways, for all that I am intelligent, self aware and mature, that I am still that wounded 15 year old and I have to face this issue to move on.

He's right.

But I still am not sure of the answer to this.

And I don't like the cost.

This is where the tears come and I rail at the sky.

"Why do I have to be alone? What did I do that was so wrong? Why can't someone just love me? What is wrong with me? How do I keep ending up here? When does the pain stop? Why can't this just be simple?"

So with less than three days to go to reckoning and possible moment of truth I am fearful, unsure, confused and tired to tears.

I imagine I'll live though.

(Sorry I have nothing funny to add. I'll think about it a bit and get back to you later.)

The Calvary

So I am a coward, but I am still going to do something. I have called in a friend to "pinch hit" on something I am afraid to do myself.

Sometime next week it will be done.

This will be done... sort of... until I have to answer for it and explain myself.

Then camp will be over and I will have to see what survives the rubble.

I wish I was braver.

But this is all I got right now.