validate me

my father has been my official unit of measurement for as long as i can remember.

every person i have dated has been subjected to my constant comparisons to dad: how are you like him? do you disagree with his beliefs? would he approve of you? would he even like you? would he think i could do better? would he think i was lucky to find anyone at all?

every job i've held has been carefully polished and presented to him in hope of hearing him praise my work, my progress, my ability, my title. me. he places a high value on education and determination, so i earned degrees and awards and went after positions that would impress him.

"what would dad think" has been an often whispered though when i was faced with a decision. too often, "oh god, what is dad going to think?" rang through my head in panic.

he has always been my yardstick, used to determine the value and merit of everything from potential dates to job choices to hair color. he was the closest thing i knew to god as a child.

i know his faults, i know his shortcomings. i know he has done awful things and that he is not my god anymore. he should not be my image of perfection, but i still see him through my little girl glasses, perfect, strong and safe. i want him to be that way. i want him to be my perfect, approving father and i keep reaching for that, even though i should know better by now.

i've screwed up most everything i've touched in my life. i have very little to show for 34 years of living. i started to turn that around a couple of years ago, pulling my shit together on all fronts. i asked for help, i got back on my feet, i took responsibility for my history. i made changes. i'm still making changes.

i live on my own. i have a great job where i am happy and respected. i'm in love with a wonderful man who knows my darkness and isn't afraid it in me. while it would be nice to hear my dad tell me that he's proud, it should not matter so damn much to me that he doesn't. or that he isn't.

but it does.

what doesn't matter is that he means well when he tells me that he has absolutely zero faith in my ability to maintain a relationship, that he means well in saying that i would be stupid to move across the country and start over professionally so that i can be with someone i love. his meaning well doesn't matter when he tells me that he is disappointed to see me "throw away" what i've worked for, just when he thought i was "finally getting it together." or that i should wait for at least ten years before i consider marrying c., "given my history" in relationships.

fuck meaning well. it hurt.

and i'm angry. at him, for not understanding; and with myself, for letting his opinion make me feel like a scolded child. i'm angry that i still need his validation and that i don't know how to let go that need.

i'm angry that i had to grow up and learn that my yardstick isn't nearly as tall as i thought he was.

dead end

is it possible to come to a rational, non-biased understanding that one's life is without value or meaning? to evaluate in some quantitative & qualitative fashion the merit of your own existence?

that thought has been following me around and annoying me all week. it's such a dawson's creek question that i want to slap myself for thinking it. (actually, the fact that i can reference dawson's creek makes me want to slap me - and may be proof that my life is meaningless.)

i'm not feeling suicidal, i'm not in a particularly blue place emotionally. i just can't see any valid point to what i'm doing or who i am. i don't know that i add anything valuable or interesting to the world. heck, i don't think i add anything valuable or interesting to MY world, let alone THE world. i go to work, i come home. i run occasionally, go to the gym when i start feeling sluggish and sloppy. i read and watch trash television. i visit my folks and my boyfriend. i have dinner with friends once in a while. i piss off people.

i question things - often, but rarely do anything about the unsatisfying answers i find.

i have a job that's not exactly a career, but it makes me happy. i do it well, solve some problems, feel validated and leave it at the office. it's not going to change the world or impress anyone.

i have a relationship that is nice. nice. it's long-distance, so i have plenty of "space." we see each other once every 3-4 weeks, and at holidays. we have 4.5 weeks together at christmas, which is great and difficult. it's hard to get into a comfortable groove when you are together-apart-together-apart, and when you have your own (physical) space situated according to your needs then disrupted by someones presence.
even when you want that presence.
it causes tension and arguments, and i don't handle either well.

i have a few close friends, good people with interesting and important or meaningful lives with spouses and/or kids and Careers and missions and activities. often, these friendships are kept up via email, text message and the occasional phone call.

i used to think i would be someone amazing and interesting, someone people noticed, for the right reasons. i thought i would be intelligent and creative and feel purpose and fulfillment. i also thought i would understand love and have a family and close circle of friends, like i saw (see) on tv and in movies. yes, i believed that hype.

maybe that's the problem: i believed what i saw and what i read. i believed that 30-somethings hung out in funky coffee shops with witty friends, that ms. or mr. right would really understand me and love away my hurt spots, that painful or upsetting events would reveal deeper truths or greater meanings.

i believed in happy endings, when really, the only ending is death, and how happy is that?
i believed in meaning, and haven't found any.

what if

i have a friend who i visit once every 3-4 weeks. she's a great listener, and gives pretty good advice - regardless of my desire for advise, good or not. if she passes any sort of judgement on me, she's never shown it.
of course, i pay her for all of this. it's worth it.

a month or so ago, she suggested i write down every what if question that passes through my mind. this, she explained, would help me identify stressors, those things that cause me anxiety. (she has suggested that i may have some control and anxiety issues, which have led to an "addiction" to the adrenaline brought on by being stressed out. we're working on reprogramming my brain to function happily without a constant, heightened state of anxiety or stress.) from there, we can rework those questions into manageable statements - what if i miss a call from my boss becomes if i miss a call from my boss, i'll return the call as soon as possible.

i didn't write down every what if - if i did, i wouldn't have time to do anything else, but i did write down a pretty good cross section of them. i think there were 50 or so on the list, ranging from the normal, what if i miss a call from my boss, to the (perhaps) absurd, what if i lose my job because i missed a call from my boss or what if my parents think i'm a total fuck up?

my friend read over the list last week.
she said it stressed her out...

i wonder if that means she may be right about me.

proof of age

two reasons i'm relatively certain that the whole "the thirties are the new twenties" philosophy is bullsh*t:

1. i spent the past hour & a half organizing my socks into careful, perfect pairs - not just by type and color, but by wear pattern and remaining elasticity.

2. at the market today, the bagger boy (a skinny 16-year-old) eyed my two bags of groceries and said - in what sounded like utter sincerity - "those are pretty heavy bags, ma'am. would you like me to help you and carry those out to your car?" ...seriously.

quality time, L style

had dinner with the folks tonight. conversation centered on the the anatomical and aesthetic differences between circumcised and non-circumcised penises. at one point i explained to my mother how to find the "mushroom" on the "uncut" version.

just another example of how my family is not like yours.

small victories

why wait for the huge ones? celebrate every little victory in your day.

a recent one for me:
i ran my first race this past weekend, a 5K benefiting the university of wisconsin alumni association. the professor nudged me into it, saying it would be a great "test run" (ha!) for the detroit free press marathon 5K for which i've been training since august - and is next week!

i figured he was right, so i registered and joined him at the starting line. we jokingly said that we would run together... yeah, 'cause novice-me can keep up with 6-minute-mile him!!!

in any case, my goals were to NOT WALK and to finish in under 34 minutes, and i accomplished BOTH! there were over 1,100 participants, and i finished 450 overall, and 17th in my age group (30-34 year olds) with a time of 30:52!!

yay, me!!

all that i ever wanted

i expected, by now:
to be married (happily)
to be respected in my career (maybe even famous)
to have friends who have known me for years and who understand my every nuance
to have made a couple of little people in my image (or his)
to have seen my parents show pride at my being their daughter
to own a lovely home in a quiet neighborhood on the far outskirts of suburbia
to have traveled throughout europe (and north america)
to be in great shape - and not just “for my age”
to have an admirable financial portfolio
to feel confident and self-assured and proud of my life and my choices


as it is,
i have him, he who i love and who loves me (we even talk of marriage)
i have a job i enjoy and at which i am quite good - maybe it’s not a “career,” but it’s interesting, challenging and rewarding
i have a small group of close friends - valuable for the quality of friendship, despite their relative newness (longevity will come, as always, with time)
i have two furry, four-legged canine kids (not quite in my image - or his, but wonderful nonetheless)
i have a great relationship with my parents (who may not understand me or my choices, but who love and support me)
i have a roof and four walls, be they rented
i have traveled to milwaukee, boston, chicago, phoenix, toronto, san francisco, las vegas and the canary islands (so far)
i can breathe and walk and bend and jump and run and speak and see and hear and think and remember... well, most of the time i can remember
i have a little green in the bank, minimal debt and the car runs well
i have more confidence than i did at 20, or 25, or 32; i have the self-assurance that comes with having made mistakes and learned from them; i have pride in my life as it is right now and humility regarding the choices - many of them poor - that got me here



this is not the life i planned, not the life i expected
i am not the woman i dreamed of as a girl, or even the one i envisioned as a young woman
my story isn’t poetic or heroic or even all that interesting
but it’s mine

and it, and i, am all that i ever wanted, and less
and more