‘Tis the Season

When I was about 15, I received a tiny pink sweatshirt with Mickey Mouse on it.  It looked like it was made for a 9-year-old.  I also bagged a hot pink and gold encrusted lockable diary, and a packet of that generic makeup stores always breakout around the holidays.  Again- hot pink was the featured colour.

Mind when I was three, in ballet I insisted I be allowed to wear a black unitard instead of the standard pink, and apparently caused such a fuss they almost booted me from class.  However, there is a photo of a triumphant me in black, my sister next to me posing in traditional pink. 

Basically, if you’ve met me, you know I’m not a girly-type-girl.  Not that there’s anything wrong with liking pink, but I had so vehemently defined myself out of the starting gate as a tomboy and anti-pink, that receiving not just one, but many gift with the offending hue made me wonder if anyone paid any attention to me.  Not an unusual feeling for a young shy kid from a huge extended family.

A real eye-opener came when I was complaining about my “gifts” and word came one of my mother’s friends home had caught fire.  They lost everything just before Christmas.  They happen to have had a nine-year-old daughter, so all of my gifts were re-wrapped, and passed on.  I heard she loved them. 

I’m glad it worked out, and they got back in their feet, but that feeling has always stayed with me.  Me me me- and then tragedy strikes and reminds you what really matters.  Sure, it makes you feel small for a time, but I think it helps keep things in perspective.

My uncle passed away last Sunday.  The holidays are approaching, and I know things are going to be hard for his family.  I wish I could do more.  I wish I had a gift that could make everything better.

Awkward Post is Awkward

Last night I was part of an awkward group hug.  I’m also the one who made it awkward, I realize, but it’s hard not to when the guy you like hugs you, and you know you can’t be with him.  I even said, “Awkward acknowledgement of hug” in case there was any question. I felt more awkward after I said it.  Awesome.

It’s almost been a month, but I’ve been missing him texting me all the time, and updating me on his life.  There was a few times when we hung out in a group, but it’s different than when we would sit together in his car, him sharing a song with me, or just talking.  I need to not dwell on that, but when you’ve almost resigned yourself to never meeting someone and then you meet a fantastic person who feels like your match, it’s crushing that they’re taken.  So I’m trying to get over it.  Trying.

A major reason why I haven’t seen him much, other than I think he’s trying to distance himself from me (which I understand), is things have been pretty hectic, family wise.   My uncle is in the hospital for the past three weeks, almost a month.  He was a fire fighter for twenty-five years who travelled all over North America coordinating large scale fire battles (is that what they’re called? If not, they should be.).  As a result he has two types of lung disease, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder (COPD), and Interstitial Lung Disease (ILD). It’s common amongst fire fighters to develop these conditions.  And it doesn’t look good. 

So my aunt was staying with me in my tiny apartment for two weeks, and then over another week my cousins joined too, so there were four of us in my tiny one-bedroomed apartment.  I spent a good deal of that time on a camping cot in my living room, and driving them to and from the hospital on my way to and from work, and spending my evenings at the hospital.  I had previously considered med school and thus had taken a medical terminology class, and volunteered in a paediatrics ward when I was in high school, so I have a basic grasp of medical language.  Thus, I’ve been liaising a bit with the doctors and nurses on behalf of my aunt and uncle so they understand what’s going on and can make the best decisions in a terrible situation.

It’s been a tough time.  Last week we got them into a lodge (apartment building, really), across from the hospital, so that’s good.  They can walk over whenever they want, and I have my space back.  Man, have I missed my bed.  Not that I regret helping out.  I have a fairly large family, but so many of them are selfish or I just never connected with.  This uncle is one of the good ones, and I’ve always really gotten along with his wife.  So this has been rough.  My mum thanked me the other day for keeping her and the other aunts updated, and all I could respond was they would do the same for us. 

I’ve been trying very hard to stay strong.  For them.  For me.  But it also strikes me as weird that when tragedy strikes, I somehow become a robot who deals with the unpleasant side of things.  When my cousin died last year, that was me again, dealing with the police, doctors, coroner...  Now my uncle is in the hospital, and I had to explain to him and his wife that when they transfer him off life support to a BiPAP oxygen mask, things could go wrong so they needed to make some tough decisions.  It was the first time my aunt broke down crying in front of me because I couldn’t sugar coat that he could die right then and there. 

Nothing makes you feel shittier than destroying someone’s sense of hope.  But they had to be prepared.  Thank goodness it was a best case scenario where he’s doing much better on the BiPAP.  Maybe as a pessimist I insulate myself to the shit, but the upside is sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised.  It’s somewhat short-lived though, as his condition is so severe he doesn’t have much more time, but another day or two or week makes all the difference for my giving and loving aunt.  It’s been amazing seeing their love and dedication to each other through all of this.  Love exists.  I would have never fucking believed it, but there it is.

On top of all of this (But wait! There's more!), my dance troupe has a show this weekend, so I’ve been burning the candle at both ends.  Work.  Hospital.  Prep for show. Drive errands.   Rehearse.  Make sure my aunt eats.  Make sure I eat.  Updating my cousins on their dad’s condition because they don’t want to see him on life support. I find when I’m stressed my natural inclination is to push down feelings, and drink.  Those are usually opposing factors, so I’m feeling drained.  After this show, Imma sleep forever maybe.  Like being dead without the commitment, as I once read.

One of the strangest things that has come out of this, is that I found myself staring at my uncle as he was resting one night.  I had sent my aunt to get herself some dinner.  She doesn’t want to go to a real restaurant so she can be close to him.  I found myself wondering if someone would ever love me that way.  I found myself wishing, just for a moment, that I could take his place so they could have more time with each other.

Maybe that’s why I help in these situations.  It makes me feel something.  I can’t handle the emotions on one level, so I channel it into busy work.  To distance myself so I don’t really feel it, I throw myself in head first.

Awkward acknowledgement of feelings.

Crux

It’s a tough feeling to shake; not being good enough.

I know I’m a loner, but I really want someone to fall asleep next to and wake up with every day.  I find myself aching for a connection, or even a touch.  A hug showing me that I’m part of something.  That I am wanted.

I told Married Tattoo Guy how I felt about him as a way to cut off this growing attachment I have.  I could have never expected he would say he cared about me back.  I wasn’t ready for it, and he obviously isn’t either. 

I don’t want to be a mistress, but aren’t I already?  I’ve these feelings inside of me I don’t know what to do with.  The only outlet seems to lead down a terrible path. 

I’ve been trying to distract myself.  Some articles I’ve read show that when you have a crush on someone, it acts like a homing beacon for your thoughts, creating OCD like symptoms.  Forbidden or secret relationships also bond the couple closer.  It also throws off dopamine and serotonin levels making everything feel THAT MUCH MORE INTENSE.  That I can agree with.

I feel stupid.  I feel like I’m once again settling for less.  I’ve managed to find a new kind of unavailable.  Huzzah.  At least I’m consistent.

After wing night last week we were sitting in his car and we talked.  I needed to say I had to get over him, but didn’t want to lose our friendship.  Was that even possible? 

He told me how much I was coming to mean for him.  He had no one to talk to.  No one but me.  I believe that.  He seemed surprised by the revelation.  I get why he went back to his wife before we had even met.  His responsibilities.  He’s making three people happy over his own happiness.  He said how he’s no longer in love with his wife.  He told me how he told her that, but she was fine with the façade.  He was going to try and live with that, being unhappy.  Fulfilling his obligations.  And then we met.

I told him I care about him, but don’t want to cause any problems for him.  I told him how I don’t even know how he got past my armour other than it was so unexpected I didn’t even have it up with him.  Our connection was instant, and we were both surprised by it. I told him I couldn’t lie to him even if I wanted to.  I told him I never wanted to hurt him, but I can’t have these feeling for someone I can’t be with.

And then he kissed me. And I felt wanted.

Performing

I recently did an online personality test based on the writings of Carl Jung, David Keirsey and Isabel Briggs-Myers.  In University I had done a similar one (the MBTI), and I had come up as the only INTJ in a class of a hundred or so people.  It’s apparently a rare personality type (less than 2% of the population), and rarer still for women (0.8%).

My result: http://www.16personalities.com/intj-personality

My intent was to post this on my social network profile, but before doing so I read over the profile, considering it objectively in relation to what I knew about myself.  I had the same result as nearly ten years ago, so what of me has actually changed?  What hadn’t? What would I disagree with in the analysis? 

One part stuck out for me regarding an INTJ’s relationship with the spotlight.  I occasionally work as an emcee for a local dance company.  It’s a fun job most of the time.  I enjoy planning shows, coming up with intros and extros, meeting new talented people, the costuming, and being part of a production.  I get to engage with people, but from a distance, and essentially get to run things.   However when reading the comment about the spotlight, I felt an incongruence.

It has actually taken me quite a while to be comfortable with being in the spotlight.  I fell into emceeing because I was loud.  Seriously, I led an orientation because I had the loudest voice and everyone could hear me, and after that I used public speaking as a way to overcome social anxiety – sort of a trial by fire.  It kind of developed from there as previously I had preferred up to then to remain free to move about, not be featured (this is true for life and stage).  And honestly, when we began putting on shows, my desire to emcee stemmed from not having the confidence and desire to be a featured performer.  I figured I just talked until the real talent came on stage.  I still really feel that way.  When it came back to me that I was the main feature, linking the show together, I was surprised and rather terrified, and considered never performing again.  But then, one of the reasons I’ve done theatre my whole life was to get over those anxieties.  They do still visit me, though. 

Looking back at what I know of myself, I am afraid of being the centre of attention because as much as I (or anyone else) yearns for it, I do not feel I deserve it.  Call it imposter syndrome?  When I was told I *was* the show, it shocked and terrified me to my core. 

“But what if I let everyone down?”, was my very first thought. 

Mind, I had already done a few shows; but I honestly hadn’t considered I was any sort of feature other than distracting the audience.  It was a bit to wrap my head around.  It still is.  I say this because I have had so much going on in my life, I stepped down from the main emcee role about a year ago.  Since then, I’ve been involved, but finally emceed my first full show again this past weekend.  It was fun, but I notice all my flaws and flubs, and find it hard to believe when after a show audience members or fellow performers compliment me, tell my how funny I was, and what a great job I’ve done. 

I feel like I can’t believe them.  They’re just saying that because they recognized me.  That’s nice of them to make me feel included.  And yet, I’m having a harder time brushing those compliments aside since this time I had many approach me and say how much they’ve missed me as emcee.  A spark of me twinged, wanting so much to revel in the compliment, but I have a tendency to quash such feelings.  It’s not a good practice, and I am trying to work on it.

Actually, I’ve come a long way.  I used to hide back stage after the shows and not come down until everyone was gone.  I’d not acknowledge when I received a compliment, or even worse, I’d swear back (issues, ammaright?).  It felt painful to be complimented, but when you have self-esteem issues like I do, it’s a common feeling.  I think one of the reasons I keep doing the shows is to get outside my comfort zone.  It pushes me, and I desperately need that.  Performing still terrifies me, but I do it to help perfect the image I want to project; one of a confident, intelligent, funny woman, who is deserving of praise and love.

And yet, I still feel like an imposter.  I often hear “fake it ‘til you make it”, and similar words of wisdom spouted.  I thought after a while I would be more confident in what I’m doing, but I still have that nagging feeling.  Feeling that I’ve failed at a job severely highlights that disparity to me, which is probably why I’m still doing the shows.  I want to feel successful somewhere. 

Now I make myself mingle after a show.  I act confident (wine helps), and I smile and say “thank you” when I get a compliment.  I’m still not letting it really sink in, though.  I’m still blocking it from my heart.  In a way, I’m still putting on a show.

Revelations (part 1)

Wow. Moment of self-realization today at work.  I’ve been going back correcting several months of improperly entered data at the job I am currently at.  I’m through a temp agency, and was placed here with two other women.  I’m the only left, as they keep extending my placement.  That’s good and I should feel good, but I notice I feel bad that I am “wasting” so much time correcting things that should have been entered correctly the first time.  And the more I go back, or feel I should double-check something, the more errors I find.  It has been weighing on me.

I have been finding it tough telling my supervisors this, though they have been supportive and impressed with my attention to detail.  I think it’s why I’ve been extended, and they’ve told me they wish they could make me fulltime.  I should feel good about that, but I’ve noticed I feel responsible for the errors.  I mean, there’s no way I could have made them (I had never come across this data before), but I feel nervous and scared when I find errors and report on them. 

It finally occurred to me today as I was telling my supervisor what I thought had happened.  I figured maybe 30% of the data had been missed (not entered at all, but filed), and that within the data program itself someone must have selected a large chunk of info and accidently changed it, screwing up another 20%.  She nodded, saying it was likely, and then kind of gave me a weird look. I realized I was kind of cowering like a small dog afraid of being kicked.  Then I realized after she left that that’s exactly what I have been feeling. 

I was so used to feeling worthless at my last job, I have forgotten how to interact with confidence. 

I know I’m good at what I do, or I wouldn’t be doing it, but when you constantly find problems and it puts off other work you were to do, you internalize it as failure.  Or I do at any rate.  At my last “proper” job, everything that went wrong was my fault.  I repeatedly heard that from a Board of Directors who couldn’t even be bothered to even read the first page of my reports which were bullet-pointed.  They were unaware of even the structure of the business, but everything I did was the worst.  I was doing badly, and I should feel badly.  And I did.

I know I stayed there about a year too long, but it’s tough to get over that sense of failure.  To try and reason with a belligerent brick wall.  I would spend countless hours worrying, and tying my self-worth to that job.  It was prestigious, but I was constantly looked down on by others in the field because I didn’t have the same degree.  It was an abusive relationship but I was sure I could make it work.  Leaving felt like failure and I had made that my life.  I sunk into a deep and crippling depression.

It’s taken me a lot to pull myself out of that, and get back into the work game.  Temping was a way for me to try out my skills again, and see if there was something I could learn to love again.  I rather like what I’m doing now.  Sure, I work for a giant conglomerate that placed me at another giant conglomerate, but I’m okay with being a cog in a wheel right now.  Here they listen, and appreciate when I explain what’s gone wrong, and how I can fix it.  I like the people, the work is challenging, and I’m good at it.  Now I just need to remember how to translate that into feeling good about me.

If I am to be Honest

I don’t want him to feel sorry, because I don’t feel sorry.  He asked a question.  I answered honestly.

“Do you want to kiss me?” 

“Yes. I do. But I can’t.”

I almost feel worse for doing the “right” thing.  It doesn’t stop how I feel about him.  It’s not stopping how he feels about me.  I messaged him back later the next day.

“The thing is I would like the chance again.  But I can’t while you’re married.  I won’t.  You’re not mine.  And I want you in my life, but I’d rather be a friend than a distraction.”

I almost hadn’t gone to wings that night.  I was tired from talking with Stunt Guy late the night before.  He was dealing with some issues, and we wound up closing the local pub talking it out.  I had some things I had wanted to talk about too, I just didn’t know how to say any of it.  So we hashed out his stuff.  I was tired all day, and had more side project work when I got home.

I had nearly convinced myself I was staying in when I got MTG’s text.  He and my former boss were the only ones who had showed up, and he was asking me if I was coming.  I could feel my will bending.  It’s a time of week I always look forward to.  More so now that MTG joins us on these nights.  Part of me was hoping he would text asking me to come.  Some nights we wind up for last call at the pub near my place.  I love those nights.  That night was one of those nights.

Usually I can’t make eye contact when I like someone.  But with MTG I find us staring at each other and then not looking away when we catch each other doing it.

I wanted to kiss him.  I still do.

Never Is a Promise

“Sorry.” 

The text came in late.  I was expecting it, and it made my heart ache.  I didn’t want him to be sorry.  I asked if he had made it home safe. He had. I told him not to be sorry.

“Have to. Inappropriate.”

“So sorry.”

“Won’t do that again.”

But I wanted him to.  I did with all my heart.

He asked me if I wanted to kiss him.  I exhaled slowly.  We were sitting in his car after the pub closed.  I only live three blocks from where we were, but he offered a ride home and I wanted more time with him.  It was dangerous.  I simply feel more alive even when he’s just in the same room.

“Yes. I do.” I almost couldn’t make eye contact.  “But I can’t.”

I got out of the car.  “I really want to, but I can’t.”

I went inside.  His text came shortly after.