Only-Child Syndrome

Still breathing ....

I wanted to start writing about a normal summer life. Beer, sand, and plenty of trips but life decided against. I talked about my semester of writing and it looks like life is about to write my last chapter of my portfolio of illness, religion, and god. Death is going to be added to the mix and because my head is so wrapped around the events paining me such as my aunt preparing to pass I am having a hard time thinking of anything creative.

My mother turned 51 and I swore a text was all she was going to get, but instead I learned of hospice and went and sat and just watched my sit and watch.

Smitten has been gone for so long that it makes my heart ache, and I am counting the  minutes until his plane lands. I need a strong shoulder right now and I know that his can carry the weight.

I am still looking forward to dinner with Lust and getting an update on the adventures of Wondergrl. There is also my dad’s birthday and father’s day to look forward to where I will break out some culinary skill for the masses.

Numerouno will be celebrating his birthday this week and I have yet to decide if I am ready for dinner just yet. We spoke a few times this weekend but with everything going on with my aunt I have to be careful to not let him carry me. He knows my family, my aunt, and it would be so easy to get caught up in that familiarity and forget that we are where we are because of his past actions. Our friendship has to be rebuilt in a slow fashion and his birthday might be a little too soon.

In other news I am still a rockstar at work and thank goodness for that. It’s enough to keep me busy without going completely insane right now. It kept me grounded today and I only found myself in tears once.

So yeah, I apologize no happy stories to report just yet.

Honestly ... Nothing is wrong

It’s been almost two years since I’ve felt this helpless, hopeless, and absolutely unhappy. There is NOTHING wrong. Let me repeat that for anyone not listening; NOTHING WRONG!!! Well almost nothing, telling someone over and over and over that nothing is wrong you are just “sad” and they continue to try and find the fix, well that can just piss you off.

I am so annoyed with those I love the most, and that is the most frustrating part. Certain voices feel like nails on a chalkboard, and nothing ANYONE can do can solve it. That’s the maddening part for all the “fixers” in my life.

What is really hard is that it has been two years since I felt like I was being sucked in a black hole. My mother’s upside was that it’s been two years!! I mean that’s so much better than I when I was younger, but I feel like FUCK it’s been two years, and again here we are.

The person I feel the most for is Smitten. I am pretty sure more than once I have told him to R U N while he can. I feel bad that he wants to fix it, make it better and it kills me that all I do is snap at him. I’ve sorrta explained where I am, but I know it does nothing for him. He understands, but doesn’t.

I talked to my mother today who probably felt the same frustration that Smitten feels right now years ago when this whole adventure. She said she remembers how irritable I was, and how all she wanted to do was ANYTHING to make me happy; even for a minute.

It will take a little while to get this under control but until then I am working really hard on not imploding me, or my relationship.

One day at a time, or some random cliché like that …

It's only talking outloud ....

I’ve never hid the fact that I’m a fan of therapy. There is just something about letting out all the crap
you’ve been carrying around for years to make you feel just a little bit lighter.

I’ve been doing it for about a month now, and this time it’s much harder than it’s been before. Maybe because I’m not showing up to blab for an hour, but I’m working towards something; what that something is might be the tougher question. I really hate the childhood questions because I wonder which childhood she wants to know about. The happy one or the one that landed me on her couch, both very valid yet each so very separate to who I am today. In a box if you will and apparently that is my problem. The box that I keep myself in, away from anyone who might actually care about me and for what reason is as good as anyone’s guess.

This week’s homework is to tell someone I care about something about my life that makes me uncomfortable, but I don’t think she meant confessing something to my blog. I’m not sure it counts considering there is no way I can see the blogoshpere’s face or hear it’s voice to know if whatever makes me uncomfortable is really ok. That I am just as normal as anyone else, or at least I’m not crazier than anyone else.

I haven’t decided yet what I want to say, or to who but I’ll do it because before I left her office she dared me too. The fact she was smart enough to do that makes me think she’s probably the perfect therapist for me.

I also probably needed to talk today more than I really knew I needed to as well.

Work is stressful, relationships are tricky, and memories are just that, memories.

I needed someone to hear me out loud say that I understand the logic behind what in me needs to grow, to change. The facts are however that I don’t give a damn much when it comes to logic and emotion. I need to do what my instincts have always told me. When things get comfortable change, run. When things seem to good, they are and get out ahead of the disaster coming.

I wonder sometimes where I’d be in life if I didn’t run or push as soon as things seem to settle into
something worth being a part of. I wonder why it is I can’t relax, breathe and just enjoy. Why do I need complicated, tricky? I have no fucking idea but lets home I figure it out before I go broke one session at a time.

*sigh*

If I close my eyes it’s not hard to remember exactly what it felt like to have an open intimacy without fear of what the next morning was going to look like. I remember the touch, the feel, the moving forward and I remember having a love/hate relationship with it. There is nothing worse than knowing what is good for you, and also knowing that at the same time it can be so very bad for you. However, there is something to be said about ignorance and bliss and how lovely they go hand in hand. There are days that sometimes I wish I could go back to being that blind and encountering that much bliss even if it's fleeting.

The past few weeks have been rough and I have been fighting hard not to shut completely off from everyone and just checking out. I hate the way the way the X can throw me off my game, but reading the posts from the last time he surfaced has helped serve as a reminder of how badly I handled it, and how much damage it caused. How broken I felt. How out of control my actions and emotions were.  

The bright side is that I learned something from the last time. I’ve been taking care of myself so much better mentally this time around. I have avoided the acting out and then worrying about the fallout. I have just been taking care of me. Some days are a little rougher than the others, but at the end of the day I do actually remember the day. There is something to be said for that all on it's own.

The dark side of being mentally well is being told by someone with much more wisdom, and a PHD that the something you thought was good for you, might indeed be bad. This time there is no ignorance and bliss, there is no open intimacy. No, this time it feels closed off, strained and honestly I long more and more for ignorance; because the last time something was bad for me the ignorance provided plenty of bliss. 

My two cents ...

I feel bad when people Google “only child syndrome” and end up here of all places. Not because I think my blog is bad, but because I don’t have any answers in regards to what you do with an only child. This blog was started because I have some of the classic symptoms of what an only child is, but as with the first post of the blog I don’t think I am deficient. Today I was linked by This Blog and his reply to me was funny but it made me take a minute to think about what I have to say about only children as a whole. I will preface all of this as I am no expert, and can only use my own life and other only children I know as a litmus test of what the rest of the world of only children might be like. 

So, if I had any advice to give what would I say? How about quit stressing about it, and raise a child that is respectful, polite and don’t give your only child everything they ever wanted because I promise you someday it will come back to haunt you.

What might be most amusing is that I date a man who has a 12 year old only child. I give him grief about the fact that I can almost pinpoint some of her every moves. There has been many times in which I have said “told you so”. One of our earlier conversations as we decided to become serious was would he ever be open to adoption. The reason I asked was because in a very early conversation he told me that him and his ex-wife only had one child so they could give the child everything they wanted. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that as long as you really don’t give your child everything they want. I stay away from anything that might be considered parenting advice because I’m not a parent, nor am I her parent. That doesn’t mean that I don’t on the other hand tease him of what is to come. The other thing about his 12 year old is very honestly I am scared to death to meet her. I know that might sound funny, but if she was 6 it wouldn’t matter but I remember myself at 12. I remember my parents being divorced, and I especially remember how awful I acted and although I have no reason to believe that would be the case here; it doesn’t mean that it hasn’t crossed my mind.

I can tell you that I never, ever wanted siblings. It’s much in the way that I don’t want to have a paternal child. It just never hit me as something that was missing. If I have to be honest when BMOC came into my life as an adult I had a very hard time adjusting to him and the attention my mom gave him. Now some of that has to do with the fact that my mother didn’t do a lot of those things for me because she wasn’t around, but some of it was also because she had always just been my mom once we were back on track. BMOC has never lived with my mom, but I will say that I was JEALOUS of him for quite some time. It wasn’t until him and I formed our own relationship that I moved past it, and then pushed for my parents to as involved in his life as they could because a lot of my jealousy was based on things that I felt I didn’t get. So, yes I do have a sibling but the age difference and the fact we have never lived together did nothing to improve my only child ways.

The moral of my story is that if you are an only child, there is nothing wrong with you. You can find love and be happy no matter what. Take time to be appreciative of the things you have and the people in your life. It has taken me 30 years to find someone who loves me despite some of my horrible habits. I say if it can happen for me, it can happen for anyone.

If you are a parent of an only child I will REPEAT raise them to be the best they can be just as you would do with any child no matter what the number. You really are the driving force and can either improve your only child or hinder them. Parenting is key to all children, but don't bitch 30 years later when your only child still thinks their birthday is a week long event. I can tell you that my parents have just come to accept it.

If you are looking to date an only child, good luck. I won’t even begin to lie about how that in itself is an art and it takes someone who is really not too worried about sharing themselves while waiting patiently for the only child to start to share as well. However if you stick around to when they get to the sharing you’ve made it to the good part, because I refuse to believe that all only children are incapable of loving anyone but themselves.

 

Pop Up Blocker ???

It has been some time since the last communication from the ex, but with my birthday I figured he would reappear. I mean who doesn’t love a Happy Birthday Whore email to make the world to feel real. That being said with all my changes there has been no communications but that hasn’t stopped the Ex from effecting my life. I have had nightmares starting last week every night and every night I spend at least an hour coaxing myself to calm down and sleep.

It’s obvious that in my head there is always the chance of a pop up if you will. Now if someone could tell me where I could download a pop up blocker for my dreams life could resume to it’s normal amount of chaos and I can return to my normal lack of sleep.

Deep Breathing (not just for asphyxiation)

The past week has allowed little time for anything more than purging my life into as little as possible to then moving it to a much bigger space and realizing that this is what it really feels like to start from scratch. I am trying in all ways to stay on the positive thought path, but there is something about staring at completely empty rooms that makes you wonder if this was really the best decision.

Speaking of best decisions; I have questioned lately who all I let know about this blog. What started as a way to speak my mind about myself and my own insecurities has become something that I avoid at all cost when I really have something to say. Mostly because I’m not always sure how it might be interrupted by those who read it. You’ll notice in sometime I haven’t mentioned Smitten and where we are with our relationship, nor have I spoke about my own personal changes of scenery to promote a healthier me. In really taking a look at that it has been clear that my apprehension of such things have stifled exactly what this blog was supposed to mean to me. An exercise in deep breathing if nothing else, so I’ve made a pact with myself to just write when the urge hits no matter who might read it one way or the other. I suspect that the surprise in my feelings won’t be that they are what they are but instead of the fact that I put them in print.

This week’s exercise in life is turning 30; an age that I have no problems with as a number but which has fueled a lot of tears over the past few days. I know that every year I reflect back to where I was a year ago, and although progress has been made I don’t feel like I have the life of someone who is 30. Of course that is easily questioned by EVERYONE.

“What does a 30 yr old life look like?”

My honest answer is, not like mine. I don’t know if it is that I don’t give myself enough credit, or that I may never be satisfied with life in my very over achiever way. So, the only solution I have is to stress as little as possible. Something not accomplished easily mind you, I can only try and not engage in the negative thoughts quite so often.  Although, in my "the sky is always falling" mind the negative thoughts are not always the enemy. Sometimes they are the motivation for the happy thoughts that follow the accomplishment.

So, I try to not worry too much that people see me as someone with no people in her life, or someone with no options in entertainment. Much of what I’m doing right now takes as much effort as it does to get all dolled up and smile in an effort to pretend that you like everyone in the room. I just don’t have the energy for that much deep breathing at any one time.

The sky is indeed falling ...

Disclaimer: This is one of those rambles that doesn’t mean much from the outside, but between the lines it speaks volumes or my creativity just seems that much better when ambien induced.

Less than a month away and the sky is falling, and I’m trying to figure out how to keep my head above water. That and every other bad life takes a turn for the worse, bump in the road cliché you can think of. I’d like to thank identity theft, Bell County, and lawyers with fees for more than the actual cost of the incident.

I’m not getting into details at the moment, but I’ve spent most of the evening in tears save for a few laughs, and unwarranted victory dances. Now I’m stuck in my head and no matter how much my body knows I need sleep my head just won’t seem to allow it.

The silver lining; I might know my language of love which sounds extremely self help-ish and maybe a little gay but eye opening on so many levels. It is however some break through in regards to communication and what is important to me, and will hopefully prove helpful in the future.

 

 

 

Sacrifice for the sake of Sacrifice

My life is not built around sacrifice by any means. I am single, have no children and therefore give up very little in life for the sake of someone else. I don’t know if that this makes me a bad person; a taker overall. I mean I do charity work, give blood, I am a donor, but I’m not sure those things count much towards sacrifice. It’s not to say in life I haven’t sacrificed, but it has been a long time since I gave up something for someone else; to meet someone else’s wants or needs. My mother would tell you that it’s all my grandmother’s fault, but I’ll tell you that I am selfish, not intentionally mind you but I am out for me in most situations. That is not to be said that for someone I call a friend I wouldn’t give the shirt off my back. My selfishness is an oxymoron of sorts.

Lately I have turned my world upside down for someone. This is something that has pulled me out of my comfort zone, and I’ll be honest I haven’t handled it well. I’ve actually made an ass out of myself twice now because of fear of the unknown. It hurts to be reminded of your sacrifice, especially after a bottle of Jager. (It doesn’t get much more honest than that)

At times I am down right angry with how much I’ve given up in order to truly let myself be with someone, and don’t feel that I am getting much in return. Patience is not my strong suit, and although changes are happening they aren’t the changes that are most important to me. They aren’t the changes that make things for me any better. Instead I continue to try and be respectful, and open, and giving, and all the things that I am not very good at. I have to admit that I am becoming bitter about it all. My passive aggressiveness is starting to show, and I really do wonder how much longer I can stand in the shadows of my own life, bending for the sake of someone else.

This isn’t to say that I am ungrateful for the person in my life. When we are together there is no other place I’d rather be. The looks and small grazes of touch make me feel complete and happy. I need, crave, and want that attention on more frequent bases. I want weekends, not every weekend, but weekends where it feels like there is something more, that there is a future of more.

I wonder if I made the wrong choice, but only time will tell that. It doesn’t mean that  at times I don’t resent what I have changed, or what I’ve given up, and that seems to be what I need to work through now. Those are MY problems, and I can recognize that. I know that they are my issues, and I need to decide what I can live with, and live without. I need to figure out how to see it for what it can be, and less of what it is for now.

Therapy

I am a firm believer that therapy is an important part of anyone’s life. At some point we all need a unbiased opinion to vent to. Personally, I’ve always been a huge fan because I am almost certain that for every crazy thing I am telling my therapist, someone has been in earlier in the day, or will be in after me with some even crazier to say. I know, might not be the right motivation for spilling your guts, but if it ain’t broke.

Even though I am so pro-therapy the last time I went was right before Christmas. I was dealing with my first family Christmas in some time single, and really wasn’t handling things so well. I was struggling with trying to figure out what I wanted next in my life, and what my next path would be. The therapy was good, and it was only by accident that I haven’t been back. Life took an upswing, and I didn’t need to pay to tell someone all my dark secrets, fears, or faults and that felt really good. But, the lack of venting has caused this huge back up, and the fact is I am very afraid of where my life is heading.

There is not one negative thing about my life right now, which might be why I seem to be cracking under the pressure. Creating my own inner drama, because that’s what I do when things are calm and settled. I hate that I can’t just be in the moment, happy, carefree, and not so afraid to let something good happen to me. I am self destructive by nature, good or bad. As I’ve gotten older I can see the pattern and can tell when it’s coming, but that doesn’t mean I’m always so quick to respond to it.

It is obvious to me via my recent antics that it’s time to vent and know that nothing I have to say is crazier than anything else anyone has said.