Posts Tagged: life

Moving On / Recipes — 8 Comments
12
Mar 10

Survivor Chocolate

lucky-number-4So it’s one o’clock in the morning and I am sitting in front of my laptop, in my cat hair covered robe, with an Ocean Breeze scented candle burning, eating the best fudgy brownie cookies I’ve ever tasted.

I’m not really a scented candle person.  I get tired of the same  smell by the time the candle burns down.  But, I’m on a very tight budget, and I wanted something, in addition to coffee and chocolate, to cheer me up.  So we went to Pier 1 and I picked out some candles – Ocean Breeze, Patchouli (to remind me of my college days), Asian something or other, Vanilla and yada yada, and one other.  I picture these folks in lab coats, in some white room full of beakers over burners with little flames mixing scents and one of them actually thinks they have put together the right chemicals to smell like an Ocean Breeze?  I also bought this little round ceramic ball with my lucky number on it.  It can’t hurt.  Between the candles and the number four, and my cooperation with the rest of the universe, I’m sure to get my train headed in the right direction again.  Maybe.

Jenny came in my bed again and then, as usual, I couldn’t get back to sleep.  My head fills with thoughts of John.  How is it that some people (mostly men) are so good at turning their brains off?  I try to make myself think of things that I don’t like about him, but since that’s fruitless, I switched to thinking about Phyllis and Annie and this blog.  Phyllis sent a comment that I want to write about, so I figured now is as good a time as any.  Only I came out to write about her comment, and grabbed a cookie, and after one bite, I forgot what I was going to write, so I’ll share this recipe with you all instead.  I changed the name of these cookies.  Will was craving some kind of dark, fudgy brownie/cookie combo (he’s his mother’s son) and we discovered this recipe and tweaked it a bit.  I’m calling them Survivor Crownies because we all deserve a crown for surviving, and because the ‘c’ is for cookies and the ‘rownies’ is for ….    Nevermind.  I think you get it.

Survivor Crownies

  • 2/3 C butter – softened
  • 1 1/2 C brown sugar – packed (have you ever come across a recipe where the brown sugar isn’t packed?)
  • 1 T vanilla – it seems like a lot, but it’s right
  • 2 eggs – room temperature
  • 1 1/2 C flour
  • 1/3 C cocoa powder
  • 1/2 t salt
  • 1/4 t soda
  • 1 1/2 C semi-sweet chocolate chips

    • Continue reading →

Child of Narcissist / Moving On — 3 Comments
11
Mar 10

Lemonade, Rocks and Books

rock-saleSo now what?  I know how I got into these relationships.  I know what to do differently once I’m in one.  I am learning new things about myself; what I want; what I don’t want, and what I will compromise on.  I know the sweetness of the good parts, and I know the sour of the parts I won’t live with.

It’s time to come down from the roof.  I can’t spend my whole day drinking coffee, no matter how good it is.  (Although, it’s good to allow myself a couple days of spoiling, reflection, whimpering and chocolate.)

Got an email from a girlfriend last night.  (Thanks, Kath — seriously.)  She said, “Go out to dinner with the outdoorsy guy.  What have you got to lose?  You gotta keep the door open.”  Yuk.  I’m just fine with the door closed for now.  And I’m not missing the emotional roller coaster one bit.  (Guess she didn’t read the post about how much I don’t like shopping.)  Even if I do drive a car with a stick, I’ve no desire to shift gears that quickly.

Jenny set up this cute little rock selling stand a couple days ago and it got me thinking.  We are going to make lemonade from the lemons, sell the rocks from our shoes, and I’m going to seriously work on the book.  And for the day-to-day survival, we are going to schedule a whole bunch of things to look forward to, otherwise known as distractions.   Here’s my plan.

  • Yesterday I booked the cruise for the second week of May.  I’m lousy at keeping secrets, so I told the kids even before I booked it.  Hell, by now I’ve figured out that the best part of any vacation is the anticipation of it, so now we can have fun anticipating together.
  • Next week we will plant Sweet Pea seeds, prepare for the arrival of Larry the Leprechaun, and attend the Best Little Western Art Show in the World.
  • Ski season is winding down, so we’ll hit the slopes a few more times.
  • The kids and I will finish “The Great Tree of Avalon – Shadows On the Stars”.  This fun book includes wonderful lessons about karma, tenacity, the struggle for good over evil, and a lot of humor, even if it’s a bit violent at times.
  • I’m going to enjoy reading “The Girls from Ames”, “Do One Thing Different”, and “Marriage and Other Acts of Charity”.  Never have been able to just read one book all the way through (unless it’s an Elizabeth Berg) because my mood changes from the time I wake until the time I hit the pillow again.
  • We are still deciding on a dog.  At this point, we’ll fall in love after the cruise.
  • Kids are signed up for some art lessons.
  • I am working on the book.
  • Golf season overlaps with ski season.  I have new divots in the front yard before the grass has had a chance to green up.
  • And just yesterday, Jenny learned to ride a two-wheeler, so that opens up a whole summer of riding bikes along the river.

    • Continue reading →

Moving On / Quotes — Comments Off on Understanding Ourselves
10
Mar 10

Understanding Ourselves

Everything that irritates  us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.
Carl Jung
Moving On — Comments Off on Karma and Irony
10
Mar 10

Karma and Irony

My recipe for moving on includes a healthy dose of humor.  It has to.  Humor got me through, and out of, my relationship with Mark.  Humor will do the same for me now.  I have to share a funny observation with you.

During this time period, where I had all my hopes pinned on John, there have been a few other fellows who have tried to throw their hat in the ring.  They are nice guys.  One keeps calling and wants to take me out to dinner and has enthusiastically invited my kids.  I saw him recently, when Jen and Will were in tow, and he said, “Hey, kids!  How are you?  What’s new?”  He tries.  He might want to try to remember their names next time.  He’s funny, creative and outdoorsy.

Another has started writing letters.  He is another long distance fellow.  The red flags are obvious.  I’m not cut out for the long distance stuff.  This fellow is sensitive, thoughtful, smart, introspective, interesting and asks me about myself and my life.  He doesn’t shy away from talking about kids and shares his own experiences with raising kids.  We write back and forth without the pressure of worrying about whether we are liked by the other, or not.  That really frees a person up to write whatever they feel or think.

I met another fellow through work.  We have similar creative interests, speak the same language about work related stuff and communicate very easily.  I remember in one of those conversations, he got sidetracked and asked me about how or when I decided to leave Mark.  I felt the strangest sensation when he asked the question.  I got the impression that when he asked, he really wanted to hear my answer.  He wasn’t just making conversation.  I think that must be what it feels like when someone really listens to you.

And the other fellow is someone I’ve known for awhile.  We swap stories about kids, skiing, work and life.  He’s a pleasant fellow – sensitive, thoughtful, considerate, funny, smart.  We have a lot of things in common. Continue reading →

Moving On / Quotes — Comments Off on Scared To Death
9
Mar 10

Scared To Death

Anything I’ve ever done that was ultimately worthwhile…initially scared me to death.
Betty Bender
Moving On — 2 Comments
9
Mar 10

Living On The Roof

lizard brainI miss the roof.  There.  I said it.  We camp out on the roof because of the good and the bad.  We are ever-hopeful that the good outweighs the bad.  After awhile, we lose sight of that delicate balance.

The good, with John, included that delicious ping sound the computer makes when I get a new email.  Those emails used to come from long-distance, John.  I’d hear that ping, look at the bottom of the screen, and that cute little envelope would be smiling up at me.  I would drop everything and check my inbox.  I miss anticipating hearing from him.  I miss the plans that I’d made for future visits.  I miss the sweetness of that fantasy of a life with John.  It’s funny how the missing overshadows the reality.  The reality is that I had plans.  He didn’t.

I’d been thinking a lot about how it is that we end up staying in unhealthy relationships.  Before I even figured out the roof analogy, I was wondering what it was that keeps us in something that ultimately makes us miserable.  Is there something in our wiring that makes us gloss over the negative and focus on the positive?  What if there is a lot more negative than positive?  Is it the same thing that makes women forget the rigors of labor and delivery.  If our brains didn’t have the capacity to stifle the negative, the world would be populated with only children, and there’d be no such thing as marriage.  We’d all bale out of relationships at the first sign of hurt feelings, thereby making it impossible to stick it out long enough to make it to the altar.

I’ve been following Seth Godin’s Blog.  He talks a lot about the lizard brain and fear and resistance and how those things relate to productivity.  I’m intrigued by the concept that what holds us back is basically biological.  We don’t wake up every morning and say to ourselves, “I’m not going to take risks.  I’m not going to jay-walk.  I’m not going to talk to that cute guy at work.  I’m going to blend in and not make a fool of myself.”  There is an unseen force in our brain that controls all those choices.

I assumed, then, that the lizard brain played a part in relationships.   And it does.  The lizard brain is consumed with the desire to reproduce and the avoidance of fear.  Picture this little lizard holding a large blueprint that maps out everything that happened to you up to the age of six.  The lizard compares any new situation to this blueprint, and then determines your knee-jerk reaction.  If you feared being left as a child, you go out of your way, now, to make sure you will never be left again.  If you craved attention as a child, your lizard fears the absence of attention, and will make sure to put you in situations where you get lots of attention.  In my case, when getting my feelings hurt, or when I feel rejected, my lizard brain (LB) studies the blueprint carefully and determines that I should be more pleasant,  play nice, and keep my disappointments to myself.  My LB tells me that if I’m nicer, I won’t get my feelings hurt; I won’t be rejected; and I won’t be deserted. Continue reading →

Moving On — 10 Comments
6
Mar 10

I Am Part of the Universe or Get Yourself Off the Roof

So a flood is coming.  The man has been warned.  He sees the waters rising.  He’s standing in his front yard praying for God to save him when another man floats by on an inner tube.  The man on the tube says, “Hey, there’s room on my tube.  You better come with me.”  The first man says, “I’ll be alright.  God will save me.”

The waters rise forcing the man to climb the side of his house to wait for God’s help on his roof.  Just then a motor boat goes by, and a woman in the boat yells up at him, “Hey!  We’ve got room.  You better come with us!”  The man yells back, “That’s nice of you, but I’m fine.  God will save me.”

The waters begin to crest the house.  The man is running out of time as he continues waiting and praying on the roof.  Suddenly a helicopter appears.  The pilot hovers over the man’s house and sends down a rope.  The man waves off the pilot.  The pilot cannot hear the man over the roar of the helicopter.  What the pilot couldn’t hear was the man yelling, “Thank you, but God will save me.”

After the man enters the gates of heaven, he summons up the courage to approach God.  The man says, “I don’t understand.  I prayed.  I waited.  I had faith.  Why didn’t you save me?”

God said, “Geez, Buddy.  I sent a rubber raft, a boat and a helicopter.  What more could I have done?” Continue reading →

Quotes — Comments Off on Where Is The Universe When I Need It?
5
Mar 10

Where Is The Universe When I Need It?

When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.
Paulo Coehlo,  The Alchemist

Moving On / Parenting / Recipes — 6 Comments
5
Mar 10

Recipe For Moving On

cup-o'-joeApparently life is not waiting for me to catch up.  It’s time to put an end to my little pity party, round up the soggy wads of kleenex, wipe the mascara from under my eyes and move on.

Ever since the kids could walk, I’ve asked them to get a kleenex when they see someone is hurt or crying.  It’s not because I wanted them to wait on me, but handing someone a kleenex when they are crying is a great way to show you care when you don’t know what the hell to say.  It’s better than standing there waiting for the sobbing person to tell you, “Could you get me a kleenex, already.”

Tuesday night, Will wised up and brought me the whole box.

There’s too much to do, too much to plan, and too much to anticipate to spend any more time licking my wounds.

Enough is enough. Continue reading →

Moving On / Quotes — Comments Off on Loved And Lost
4
Mar 10

Loved And Lost

The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.
Anonymous
Moving On — 5 Comments
3
Mar 10

Stop The Clock

broken heartIt was the winter of 1996 and I was standing in the middle of the produce section of a grocery store wondering how anyone could fuss over a navel orange when my grandfather had just been found, face down in the drifted snow next to his mobile home.  I thought for sure that the clocks would have stopped, that time would be frozen somehow, so that everyone could acknowledge the passing of someone who was so dear to me.  How could people go on about their day, squeezing heads of iceberg lettuce, griping about the long lines, and fumbling through their purses for coupons?  How could life continue to be so ordinary?

I thought of that today when my neighbor walked by with her Golden Retriever.  She’s a pleasant gal.  I’ve not chatted with her a whole lot.  She has commented that she likes the wine glasses hanging from the wine rack above my kitchen window.  We exchange pleasantries.  She always has a smile on her face.  Her dog is beautiful, and he’s always excited to see Rita. Today her smile annoys me.  Last night I said goodbye to my long distance friend.  I can’t quite fathom how my neighbor can be so damned happy when I feel as though my heart has been flattened, drained of life, and pinned to the bulletin board.  Naturally, the neighbor lady doesn’t have a clue.  I envy her delight in the simple, mindless pleasure of walking her dog.  She makes one pass, two passes, and the kids comment on her happy grin.  By the fourth pass, I’m thinking, “Pick a different route.  Please.”

I am marveling at how messed up I am at the demise of this relationship.  After all, it was long distance.  I’m not sure it ever had the chance to get to the point of being called a relationship.  We didn’t get to know each other well enough to find out what would irritate us about each other.  Maybe that explains the sadness.  It’s over before it got bad, or before we had the chance to see that it could be really, really good.  But I’ve been thinking all day that it’s strange that I’m worse off now than when I left Mark.  Back then, things had been bad for quite awhile when I decided to move out.  By the time the kids and I had moved to my mom’s, all I could think was that it was great to be able to breathe again.  It was good to see that the sky was still blue.  Life could be simple and good.  I could find pleasure in the routine of caring for kids, and being with family.  We had come out of the darkness at Mark’s.  It was hard to be too sad.

The end of this relationship is different because I was clinging to what I thought was the promise of a happy future.  I see now that I was clinging to him like a lifeboat.  He even told me once that I should remember that this was my first relationship since my divorce — and all that implied.  (I hate the word ‘rebound’ as it applies to relationships.)  He was a huge part of my surviving the narcissism.  I’m thinking I’m going to learn more about the surviving now that I don’t have the lifeboat anymore.

Maybe it’s time we got a dog.

Moving On / Quotes — Comments Off on Ditch The Heels
2
Mar 10

Ditch The Heels

Yet if a woman never lets herself go, how will she ever know how far she might have got?  If she never takes off her high-heeled shoes, how will she ever know how far she could walk or how fast she could run?
Germaine Greer
Moving On — 9 Comments
2
Mar 10

Boulders In My Shoes

high-heelsSome days are like that.  You have to remind yourself to laugh.  You have to stop taking yourself seriously.  You have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

And after a long day of putting one foot in front of the other, treat yourself to a hot sudsy soak for your toes.  I’m going to.  Those simple little bright spots — that we can look forward to — they get us through the day.  That, and a kiss from my kids.

Child of Narcissist / Lack of Empathy / Quotes — Comments Off on Don’t Let Them
1
Mar 10

Don’t Let Them

Nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Child of Narcissist / Lack of Empathy — 7 Comments
1
Mar 10

No One Can Cut Your Shadow In Half

“How did you sleep?”  “Did you have any dreams?”  Each morning begins the same way.  While rubbing eyes and stretching long thin arms, we ask each other how the night was.  We’ve talked about dreams since the kids could talk, or since they first started having dreams.  I can’t remember which came first.  When Jen was little, she felt left out if Will and I were discussing our dreams, and she didn’t have a dream to share.  I don’t know if she just couldn’t remember, or if she had a hard time with the difference between dreams and reality.  When it was her turn to talk about her dream she’d always say, “It was about a snowman.”  And that was it.

Last night she had a symbolic dream about ‘a guy’ that cut her shadow in half.  When she realized that he cut her shadow in two pieces, she cried for a whole day.  When she had finished crying, her shadow became whole again.  But just as the shadow became one, ‘the guy’ cut her bunny in half.  (This was the very special pink bunny that she had gotten when she was in the hospital with pneumonia.)  So with tears in her eyes, she brought the bunny to me, and I “sewed the bunny all up and it was good as new.”

I have always felt that we process things and solve problems in our dreams.  Some of us are lucky enough to remember dreams, and then we can hang on to what the dream means.  Some of us don’t remember much about our dreams.  I’ve taken the approach that if we talk about them everyday, we start to remember them more, and we’ll have better access to the lessons.  In Jen’s case, each time I’d prompt her to tell us about her dream, all she could come up with was the snowman.  But after awhile, she seemed to listen to herself more, and she started remembering her dreams.  It’s kind of like intuition — if you stop paying attention to intuition, it will stop speaking to you.

That being said, sometimes (a lot of times) dreams are too bizarre to have any real tangible significance to anything in ‘real’ life.  But there’s nothing wrong with a little comic relief in the morning.  For example, Jen’s other dream last night was about catching friendly, minuscule  rubber-headed leprechauns in a tiny paper house.  Not sure where to go with that other than the kids set a trap every year to try to catch Larry the Leprechaun.  Maybe she’s working out a plan for a new trap.

Jenny’s dream about ‘the guy’ is pretty straight forward.  To me it says, her dad is squashing her spirit (cutting her shadow in half).  She has been afraid to cry out when her dad does something that denies who she really is.  She is learning the value in crying — showing who she is and how she feels.  And as she lets herself out, her spirit (shadow) can be whole.  And sometimes she just needs a little help from her mom.

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