Oh, right. That's why I don't like people.

OK, fine; I actually do like people. Mostly. Sometimes. On their good days. And mine.

But I've been having a set of experiences this week that remind me why I don't like opening up to people and why I spend a lot of my time in protection/game face mode. I realized that I've been in a "friendship" for several years that was mostly me trying to make the other person feel admired and cared for while I spent most of my time feeling like I had to beg for this person's attention. Not unsurprisingly, that person really felt like we were good, close friends, while I felt kind of like the contents of poopy diaper. And I can't decide what pisses me off more about that situation: the fact that despite much progress over the past few years, there are obviously still situations in which I have the self-esteem of a gnat; or the fact that I even had to tell someone that yes, friends are actually supposed to initiate words and deeds of caring and concern for the other person from time to time.

I'm getting better at understanding who makes a good close personal friend for me; but I still have some hangovers from the time when I wasn't as willing to prioritize my emotional needs. It makes me so angry to feel like I have to fight with someone to explain that being my friend isn't a burden, and that I have more positive than negative characteristics to make spending time with me worthwhile. What a stupid, stupid conversation to try and have with anyone; why in heaven's name would I spend any amount of time trying to convince someone of that if they don't already see it and respond to it? I fell into an idiotic thing where I found someone I really admired and wanted them to like me so much that I decided I didn't need to be valued or respected in return. But I don't need to be liked that much.

It's part of my continued wrestling with what it means to have "friends" in my life. That word means a great deal to me, but gets tossed around in our society so casually; and then I end up feeling bad for not wanting to call people friends who I don't think I can trust and rely on and who honestly don't know me all that well and don't have any interest in doing so. It's not that I think being a friend is some sort of ball-and-chain obligation to be attending to someone else all the time; I certainly don't think of my friends that way. I feel like having to explain the actions and activities that make up a friendship makes it sound like a list of to-dos without any of the joy or magic: call and text every so often, ask someone how they're doing, ask them out for a meal, invite them to an event you know they'd like, let them call you at weird hours because they need to talk, spend time thinking about who they are and what they need and what interests them and what you like about them. A friendship is more than the sum of all those parts, more than a checklist of things you've done that day or week or month.

But I guess that's the point: if you have to explain to someone what it would mean to be your friend, that's not a trip either one of you should take together. Because the other person will only resent the list of tasks they've been given, and you'll resent being with someone who'd rather be doing something else.

The opposite of anorexia

Whatever that would be called, I think I must have it. You see, with anorexia, you look at yourself in the mirror and no matter how thin you are, what you see is a horribly fat person, so you keep starving yourself to try and make that image change. But for me, no matter that I'm apparently a "big girl"; when I look in the mirror I see someone nicely-shaped and attractive, not fat.

I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what other people see when they look at me. I look around on the street and on the T and most of the folks I see are definitely much thinner than I am; so I'm constantly searching for a person my size so I can say, "Aha, that's how I look." Sometimes I see women who I think are my size, but then I look at my arms and my thighs and they look decidedly larger than the other woman's. Then I see women who I think are heavier than I am ... but I keep wondering if maybe I only think they're heavier than I am, because I can't admit how large I really am. I know I'm not so special that no one else is my size! At any rate, it is all very confusing and mentally exhausting.

I spent five minutes in the bathroom today trying to convince myself that I really am fat. I don't know if it stuck, though; I don't feel fat. It's not that I am oblivious to my weight gain over the years - all I have to do is find an old pair of pants to remind me that I used to be many clothing sizes smaller. But it doesn't bother me as much as it seems like the world around me is telling me it should: the advertisements for every exercise plan and gym, the body mass index, even my mother (who, Lord love her, makes comments about my weight out of a sincere concern for my health given our family's medical history, which makes it hard to be mad at her). I guess I ought to feel more guilty about my weight, but what I feel instead is pretty happy. I'm physically active, I try to eat well for myself and the world around me, and I have clothes I love to wear. Excepting the periodic morning when I wake up cranky, I really do feel pretty, and witty, and bright.

I remain perplexed. What bothers me, I suppose, is that I don't know if other people see the same good things I see when I look at myself, and I'm always trying to figure out how I look in their eyes.

A very Good Friday!

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are proved right when you speak and justified when you judge. Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me. Surely you desire truth in the inner parts; you teach me wisdom in the inmost place. Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice. Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity. Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

-- Psalm 51:1-12

Today is a beautiful day - literally and figuratively. Turns out, last night was not a mope; it was a wonderful, freeing calling.

God is calling me to be single. That's something that we talk about as a hypothetical, but rarely as a concrete reality of someone's life. In single Christian circles, it's the holy thing you're supposed to say: "If God calls me to be single, then I will accept it ..." But no one talks about receiving that calling, and what it might be like; there's always kind of an assumed "... but I'll also be ready when He brings me my mate." If we do say someone is or was called to be single, it's more something that kind of happened to them over time, as the hoped-for mate did not appear and they resigned themselves to their situation.

I suppose I could also fall into the category of someone whose hoped-for mate hasn't appeared, and maybe some would describe my current mood as merely resigning myself to the facts of the case. But it doesn't feel like resignation ... it feels like revelation, a moment of clarity when I am understanding what God has for me - and when I am looking forward to what that means for me, not trying to accept what I'm leaving behind. A friend today was also referring to it as my decision; and I guess it is a decision in some ways, but it's not like I just laid in my bed last night and decided that celibacy for the rest of my life was the best option I could come up with. The decision is to follow the leading I received, not from within me, but from a Spirit beyond me.

It's a decision to be obedient to what I heard, and it fills me with excitement. I think of the disciples, when Jesus came to them and called them. They immediately got up, left what they were doing and what they had, and followed him. I imagine them tossing aside their nets and their money boxes and springing up, only looking at Jesus, knowing something amazing was ahead.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it."
-- Matthew 16:24-25

These verses have a very real and tangible meaning for me today. I always interpreted them as the ongoing work of taking up your cross as a Christian every day - and I still believe that is a valid and helpful interpretation. But I also now understand how one can have a specific cross given to you to bear, a particular thing that you must be willing to take on or give up as part of God's path for you. Amazingly, I also understand how one could take up such a cross with joy and expectation of what you will find, instead of with fear and weariness at the thought of the long road before you.

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
-- Matthew 11:29-30

This passage describes how I feel today: light, and free. When I was praying and crying yesterday, I told God I wanted to be free from having to keep going through this cycle; but it was more of a wish than an intentional prayer, and I figured I was destined to keep slogging through with the burden of a spirit that was so untoward. I never imagined He would answer me!

It's not that I don't expect there will be times that I wrestle with this calling, or that there's not still some transition and ongoing formation of my mind in this area. But I feel so happy, and peaceful, in a way that I could not have thought possible, at the notion that I don't need to worry about pursuing relationships and marriage for fulfillment, that I can just take that off the table. In the past, the mere thought filled me with dread at a lonely life stretching on for decades; but now, I am overjoyed at being unbound to do His work and to enjoy all that He is doing in my life. It's a wonderful, inexplicable, powerful change.

... but I called it a lesson learned.

I don't know if this is a revelation or a mope or what, but it seemed worth putting out there.

I have a real basic issue with relying on God for my emotional needs. It's not just as far as men and dating, although that's the area with the most visible carnage; it affects the way I view all my friends and what I expect of them, and even the emotional maturity (or lack thereof) with which I respond to professional situations. My constant, black-hole need for affirmation and affection to validate my existence and all my thoughts and actions creates a lot of ridiculous drama, and causes me to do many things that are quite stupid. The fact that my life is fairly stable and. successful is very much the grace of God in protecting me from my own faults.

Nonetheless, I still have a major lesson to learn about who God is, and therefore who I am; and it occurred to me that my singleness may be a very deliberate, purposeful teaching mode on God's part. I've had multiple rounds of opportunities to sort this out, and it may have gotten to the point where I'm going to have to take the most long and painful (for me) route to gain this knowledge.

It's possible that I'm not going to be granted a husband and children, because in order to deal with this sin issue of mine, I need not to have that source of affirmation that I yearn for the most. It's not a punishment, just a consequence; because I've turned having a family into an idol, I can't be trusted with it. It's like alcoholism, or any other addiction - while the situation might be OK for many other folks, it affects me differently and I'm not able to handle it properly.

I feel a little like part of me just died saying that, but that might not be a bad thing, as there's a part of me that obviously needs to die to sin and have a renewed spirit after God's heart. I don't feel like crying; just regretful, wishing I'd taken the opportunity to do differently when I had it. That's life, though ... you don't get to go back, you just get the chance not to make the same mistake the next time.

Things I am glad I didn't think too much about before becoming a semi-vegetarian

So, I was tortured with meat by my sisters on our ski trip last weekend. Apparently, they forgot about the whole major-dietary-change thing ... and kept forgetting about if for THREE DAYS. I'll get you all.

We'll start with a happy story: we stopped for pizza on our way up to the mountain Saturday, and I figured I'd have to get some sort of plain cheese thing, or some sort of veggie nonsense with olives and peppers and onions. (There are many vegetables I love, but those are not among them.) I was pleasantly surprised to find out that I could custom-order a slice of veggie pizza with just broccoli and mushrooms. But the awesomest thing about my pizza was that when they said broccoli and mushrooms, they literally meant, "I am going to take a head of broccoli and some mushrooms, cut them up into awesomely giant chunks of flower and stem right now, put them on your pizza, and bake it for you." I had fresh broccoli on my pizza, just like I'd cut it up and steamed it myself. Dominic's in Pocono Lake, PA, you rock!

But my tide of vegetarian happiness was broken on the rocks of Saturday night dinner. I enjoyed a lovely salad, baked potatoes, and garlic bread. But what I did not have were the ribs. Sweet, tangy, pork ribs. Tender ribs, smothered in barbecue sauce. Ample ribs, whose delicious smell teased my nostrils as my companions returned for second helpings. Sad, origin-unknown ribs that I therefore could not eat.

The next morning was the bacon ... but I can live without bacon. (Sausage is another story.) The bacon did prompt some morning nausea, but it's possible that was more alcohol- than meat-related. (Did I mention that the tagline of our trip was, "We do go skiing ... eventually.") I was also not swayed by the deep fried chicken wings the night before, and especially not by the deep-fried Slim Jims that were produced by some of the boys as the evening wore on. (That was also an idea more alcohol- than meat-related.)

The true meat mourning came with Sunday night dinner. At which point, just to be cruel, a plate of sliders was waved in front of me. Not just any sliders: White Castle burgers, fresh from the frozen food package. And they were literally waved in front of me.

This was when I realized that I don't miss meat - I miss junk meat. I miss beef jerky. I miss Chinese food pork spareribs. I miss bourbon chicken. And if someone had pointed out to me at the time I made this decision that I would never again eat a White Castle burger, it is entirely possible I might not have gone through with it.

I'm glad this revelation came after I've been doing this for more than a month; I feel like it's too late to turn back now, and I have to stick to my guns. I'm trying to figure out if I can morally declare an annual junk-meat holiday, but the jury's still out on that one. In the meantime, I'm passing through some delayed stages of meat grief. (Huh, is the junk-meat holiday evidence of bargaining?)

Redirection

I have to say, my least favorite piece of advice when I am feeling depressed about my relationship status is, "It will come when you're not looking for it." I always feel bad complaining, because it is always so well-meant; but I find that statement singularly unhelpful for three reasons:

1. Dude, I'm depressed. If I had the ability to successfully project and believe in a future in which I felt content and fulfilled ... well, I wouldn't be depressed.
2. The flip side of that statement is, "It hasn't come because you want it and our looking for it." Which makes it my fault that I don't have a relationship because I want it so much, which only makes me hate myself for wanting it too much.
3. Wanting a relationship and not having it is no fun. If I knew how to not want it and be content, I'd be doing that already.

The other advice that often rankles is some version of "Don't focus on the relationship thing; go do other things and be fulfilled." Because despite the recurring temptation to hide out in my house and give up on the world in general, all I do is do other things: Go back to school and finish my degree. Start a nonprofit. Volunteer professionally. Go back to school for another degree. Volunteer in my community. Join a small group. Have lunch with friends. Travel with my family. Research CSAs and become a sustainable meat-eater. I can always find something new to do - and enjoy it - but that wave of loneliness is always waiting in the wings to swoop down in an unguarded moment.

I am going to try a new strategy, however; I don't know how well it will work, but I figure it is worth a shot. All of the above advice is about redirection: trying to put my thoughts and energy into something other than mating. But since I already have a lot of thought and energy going to other things, it seems clear that the problem is much deeper. There is a soul/spirit redirection that has to take effect at the root level of this struggle. Interestingly, that is something I have no ability to control; spirit transformation is God's alone.

So my only option is to try to put myself before him as much as possible, as much as I can remember to. In small group, we've been going through Richard Foster's Celebration of Discipline, and just this past week we did the chapter on solitude. I was trying a little experiment on Saturday of not filling all of my transitional time (time waiting, time riding the bus or T) with activity (reading a book or the paper, texting, playing games on my phone), and instead, just being still outside and in. It was hard, and weird, but interesting; it's amazing what you hear around you when you're being still that you don't hear when you're filled with internal noise.

I think I'm going to give that an ongoing try. As a bus rider, I have a lot of transitional time! If I use that time in silence, alternated with reading my Bible, I think I might be more open to God's work in this area of my life. I'm not going to call it a resolution, because I never keep my resolutions; I like the notion of an experiment. My hypothesis: using the opportune spaces in my day for Spirit-time will develop an attitude of openness to and peace with God's will. The empirical method has been described. Results to be announced!

Unpretty

So, I was riding the T home from service tonight, convinced that my lack of life partner was a punishment for my many sexual sins. Well, that took all of a week.

In the course of my discussion with the Lord, which continued onto the bus and through my walk home, I was trying to figure out why I had such a difficult time releasing this relationship thing to the Lord's control. The very idea of waiting for His timing brings me such a terrible sense of distress, and that seems strange to me given how much else I have seen God do in my life and the lives of others. When I know the amazing things that happen when He is in control, why am I so convinced that I'm going to have to make my own way when it comes to dating and marriage?

And then this nagging little voice popped up in my head: "No one ever picks me." It's hard for me to believe that one day, without me fishing for it, someone is going to look at me and what they know about who I am and think, "There's a special person I'm really attracted to," because the last time that happened was over a decade ago (in July 1999, if you're curious about dates). That was also the last time any Christian man showed more than a "sisterly" interest in me. I look at my dating life here in Boston since college, and I see that the only time I date is when I put up the big "Available" billboard on the internet; no one else who gets to know me in my regular life - work, school church - ever seems to think I'm a worthy candidate.

No matter what I say in the front of my head, that history is always rumbling around in the back of it. And I wonder why it's like that, and what happened or what I did or what I'm like that makes me ... undesirable. I got fatter, that's for sure; 1999 probably marks the last time I could be described as "athletic," let alone slender. And I may have gotten more depressed; sometime the following year marked the start of my serious adult depressive episodes, after a break during the high school and college years that I didn't appreciate nearly enough at the time. Perhaps there's an air of dating desperation than began wafting off me about that same time, as 24 was the start of the period when I was supposed to get married according to my 20-year plan. Could be a big fish/small pond phenomenon: while might I look amazingly smart and sweet and normal among the pool of online dating ads, I may be only so-so in the ocean of the real world.

Whatever the reason(s), history has me convinced that I have to mount a determined campaign to make myself a dateable woman. For kicks, I'm equally sure that my bedroom skills are the only things about me in high demand; neither my intelligence, my accomplishments, my caring, nor my beauty (such as it may be) are nearly as memorable or worth keeping around. I am clearly the woman you sleep with, not the woman you marry ... which is a laugh riot for someone who so passionately desires to be married.

Of course, it is my fault in the end. Had I chosen to remain virtuous and obedient, I wouldn't have been able to become that woman in the first place. I can hardly whine because my choices have consequences; it's not like I wasn't warned.

I want to hand all this over to God, but I am deathly afraid that means committing to a life of celibacy and singleness, because I have lost the opportunity for anything else. And looking into a future of singleness feels like looking into a black hole, so filled with my own despair and loneliness that I'd rather just end it now. Or just throw up my hands, give up on finding real love and partnership, and resign myself to getting whatever I can, whenever I can. Only the fear of what God will do to me at the Judgment is keeping me from either course.

(To any single women reading this: Don't listen to me. Do not take on my screwed up thoughts as any judgment or prediction for your own lives. Go live the beautiful lives God has given you, and please do a better job at being thankful and contented than I am currently doing.)

I hate myself for being so ungrateful, so untrusting, and such a freaking whiner. Blah blah blah blah blah; get over it already, and go do something useful.

The single life

Yes, 'tis true - I am single. After not quite a year and a half of an unexpectedly wonderful relationship, The Architect and I decided that the end of 2009 would also mark the end of our romantic time together.

It's interesting to reflect on how this came about, and on how I've been feeling about the whole thing since it happened. First thought: given that our relationship started out of a very deliberate rebellion against God phase, it is both a big surprise and a gracious blessing that I found, hands down, the best man I've ever dated. I finally learned what it's like to be in a relationship with someone who cares for you, wants to be with you, communicates with you, and allows you to be totally yourself, without reserve. It took me a few months to really accept that good things were going on, as my blog faithfully chronicled; but eventually, I came to realize that I was with an amazing person who I could share so many things with, and who really did love me for who I am. What's more, I discovered that I loved him, too.

Which doesn't sound much like the opening of a break-up story! But as my relationship with God healed while my relationship with The Architect progressed, I had to start facing up to something I'd known all along: this wasn't a relationship with God at the center. The Architect is a pretty committed atheist, and while that could be ignored when we were hanging out and having fun together, it kept resurfacing every time I thought about - or we talked about - the future of our relationship. I could see us going on for months, even years, having a fantastic time together; but I could never see him as my husband, or the father of my children. I couldn't even fathom a marriage ceremony in which we could both participate.

In keeping with the amazingness of our relationship, this was something we could discuss quite openly and honestly, without rancor. We knew who the other person was, what they saw in their future in the moment, how their worldview was formed. And after many conversations, we realized that despite all we shared, we were missing some critical common ground to move forward.

Out of the best relationship I've ever had also came the best break-up. It was a joint decision, and we both understood why it was necessary. We are still friends, and we talk every day. I still get to keep "his" friends. :-) It was hard, and sad, and is an ongoing adjustment ... when you put two sexy folks in a room together, it takes a lot of effort to stay platonic! Nonetheless, I feel more at peace in my spirit than I have in many months, because I feel like I really trusted the Lord's leading and was obedient to His command for me.

I don't love being single, but I'm getting used to it. It's weird - and annoying - to think that I'm "back out there." The idea of The Architect dating another woman fills me with trepidation. The idea of a renewed dating search is equally unappealing, but I also do want to be in a relationship again. I am trying to adopt a mindset that allows me to trust God with the desires of my heart and not think about it so darn much (= all the time!). I am trying to be hopeful about the potential for a life partner, but also at peace regardless of my relationship status. It's tough.

But one of the best things, of so many, that came out of my relationship with The Architect is that I know what a good relationship is - and I don't have the patience to deal with anything less that the awesomeness I've experienced. It's all stuff I shouldn't have been settling without anyway, but now I know those qualities of being with another person aren't theory; they are a reality that God wants and can absolutely provide for me. Since I don't always learn very well just by hearing, I appreciate the hands-on lesson ... I am much less likely to forget the next time, and accept less than what honors and respects a child of God.

I also know I have to wait for a relationship that fully honors Him, and where He is the center. I know that even the most wonderful boyfriend won't be enough if we aren't seeking God together. I have definitely learned this past year that no matter how angry I get, how frustrated, how lonely or tired or discouraged, I just can't live without God in my life - and that's a beautiful certainty.

So 2010 starts with many changes, and many good things that keep going. I hope it will be a year of obedience and trust that produces amazing fruit in my life. I am a little nervous, but also excited!

Sometimes I am very crabby ...

So, I just sent out an invitation for folks to go salsa this Saturday, which I guess means that I am not going to hide out like a hermit crab in my apartment. So what's your point?

The good news is that I am feeling better today; had a very good night at school, had lunch with some fellows alums of my last school, and cleaned out my porch - formerly known as the place where shoes go to multiply - in preparation for receipt of a lovely new table and chairs from the antique store down the hill. (They are closing! It's very, very sad; the proprietor is one of the sweetest ladies ever, and I loved going in there.) I talked to my mom, and she encouraged me to keep enjoying my social time and try to remember that people seem to enjoy being with me and maybe that means I can feel a little less self-conscious and uncertain. We'll see if I can establish a reasonable frame of mind by the time the weekend rolls around.

She did suggest that this is probably all part of the adjustment period from my boyfriend leaving, not to mention some emotional coloring from my grandfather's death. I'm just hoping I can get adjusted sooner rather than later, so I can be less cranky and cry-ey after all my major social outings. It leaves me rather tired.

Of course, I could help myself on that front if I went to bed before 2AM!! Adios, amigos.

I think I might do better if I had been raised by wolves.

Or lions, or bears, or other random animals that periodically have taken care of human cubs. Not monkeys, though; they may be our genetic cousins, but they give me the heebie-jeebies.

The point is, I don't think that socializing with people is really working for me. I've given it a good try - 33 years is a definite commitment - but I just don't have the hang of it. Unfortunately, at this point, I've been trained to believe that hanging with other people is the way to go, so it's hard to undo those decades of drilling. Even if I do stop hanging out with people, which it's possible I should, I'll always be wondering if I might be able to do it right with just one more try. It's a pickle!

It's not that my parents socialized me poorly; they're reasonably well-adjusted people (as much as any of us are), I had siblings, they taught me how to be polite and considerate and aware of other people's reactions and all that good stuff. They taught me how to be responsible, and to always try and do your best, and to own up to your errors. They allowed me to experience the whole range of human emotions and didn't try to repress me; they were supportive and loving and encouraging.

Theoretically, all that should have set me up well for being around other people. But despite good coaching, I fear I lack some of the basic talent and inclination for socializing that is essential for success. It's just one of those things, like the gift of being able to invent and execute a musical composition. Some folks have it; I don't.

I just never learned the happy medium of being delighted to be around people if they're available, but not caring so much if they aren't. Billy Joel and I apparently share a problem with moderation: either I must be a social butterfly, the center of attention, popular and beloved by all; or I need a cone of silence where no one will bug me. And I either need to have a deep, intense, consuming relationship with someone, or I'd rather just not bother investing any energy.

Ultimately, that usually leaves me quite lonely, which is the state of being I'm delighted to rediscover these days. My boyfriend kept it at bay for over a year, blessings be upon him; but since his recent temporary relocation 450 miles away, I have re-realized that no one else is up for providing the constant attention and affection I seem to need for my emotional security. Since he left, I've been in an increasingly desperate search for substitute social tokens of the admiration and approbation he used to provide through his presence; my lack of success has left me highly insecure and irritable.

It is, of course, not the fault of my social circle any more than my parents; they're all busy leading normal social lives and they don't realize that there's a crazy woman moving among them. (It's better that way ... they'll feel safer.) Who but a crazy would expect that all her friendships be intensely intimate and constantly involved? Who would expect to have other people appear and disappear as her emotional desires dictate? Who gets mad at not having an all-access pass to other people's homes and lives, and jealous of the time they spend with other people when I'm not included?

The answer, of course, is me - but we've already stipulated that I'm a nutter-butter, so those questions are clearly rhetorical. It's obvious I have a problem with boundaries. And repeatedly expecting others to accommodate my invasive neediness and then being angry when they remind me (always kindly, subtly) that their lives are not all about me ... that's got to be a close match for the definition of insanity.

At any rate, the recurring battle between my crazy and the real world is just getting to be exhausting. I can manage it in professional settings, where I only have to act appropriate for discrete, purposeful periods of time. But in my off-hours, I really don't have the stamina for that emotional facade; at some point, my true nature will start leaking out, and in case the dam breaks, it's best that I be in a controlled environment where the damage can be minimized. My bedroom has proven exceptionally durable.

I do have to say, I enjoyed the feeling of belonging - I had stopped wondering so much if I was saying or doing the right thing, if I was overstaying my welcome, if I fit in. I liked it when being me was relatively effortless, and fun. I shall truly miss it; but as they say, all things must come to an end.

Eeny, meeny, miny, mo

As it turns out, one other part of this transitional time is the upcoming departure of my roommate, who is leaving for the greener pastures of his girlfriend's home. I admit this was quite the stressor for me, as I tried to imagine how on earth I was going to find a new housemate remotely from another state, to which I would not return until 3 weeks before the potential move-in.

I finally got off my duff last weekend and began the search process (nothing like some good procrastination to make everything better!). In addition to dispersing the notice among my friends, I also tried the tactic that worked for me last time I was entering school: using the campus housing office to find possible candidates. One of the delightful advantages of this from last time - besides finding my best roomie ever, who was darn hard to replace when she left - is that having a roommate who's in the same school with me meant that we had instant common ground, and could provide some mutual support and information exchange as we both moved through the program. It was not just helpful; it was great to have a buddy exploring that new territory with me.

The campus housing post was fruitful; I've now spoken with two interested folks. One male, one female; one a law student, the other in the business school; both were good conversations about the house and neighborhood and rooming habits and communication, etc., etc. The twist: both are coming from out of town, and there won't be any chance to meet either of them before I need to make a decision (for my sanity as well as theirs). How do I choose between two folks I've only spoken to via phone and email?

The last time I did a search, for my current roommate, it was a multi-interview process where I felt like I got a pretty good sense of who he was and was able to share my concerns and expectations. I was particularly paranoid and cautious because the woman before him turned out to be so awful, when she had seemed so nice upon meeting her. Excepting college, I've never roomed with someone I didn't at least get to meet face-to-face; while both of the folks seem cool, I still feel very nervous.

I think this is going to be yet another of those trust-in-the-Lord for guidance situations, because I don't have any way to do all the things that would make me feel "secure" in this decision (even if that security is an illusion). I'm having a lot of those this summer; but the good part of that is that I keep re-learning that when I leave things in His hands, they do get taken care of, quite well. I'm going to give this some meditation, and pray for clear hearing ... I'd appreciate your prayers as well, plus any practical tips for out-of-town roommate assessment!

Match

I just watched a screening of a very good movie, (500) Days of Summer, which I highly recommend seeing. It's a relationships movie, and a surprisingly accurate one - sometimes painfully so. I saw the ghosts of my own dating history in more than one scene.

[Please note: I will try to write the following without giving away too much plot, but if you're one of those people who absolutely hates even the hint of spoilers and might want to see this movie, don't keep reading. But do go see it - it's good!]

It's funny: I loved the movie, but I also kind of hated it for that accuracy, and at the end I felt sad. I suppose it wasn't a movie that helped along my desire to believe in happy endings, the way I want my romantic comedies to do (but I also at the same time hate them for giving me hopes that are never matched by reality). I didn't want to be reminded of my relationship misfires, and to wonder even now if I'm in another one but I just haven't had that moment of realization yet. There is a message intertwined in the movie about how right it is when you know you found the one ... but I think I'd feel much better about that message if I was already sitting in that place of certainty.

I couldn't help but think of all the men I've dated in my life, most of whom have found life partners - ironically, those are the ones who squashed my heart like a pancake. It's not that I wished them evil, or an eternity without finding happiness in love (at least, not after I sufficiently recovered from the heartbreak); but I certainly didn't want them to find it before me. It seems unfair somehow that they should go so quickly - sometimes directly - from my misery to their destined mate, while I am still left wondering.

It also kind of made me want to have a "future" conversation with my boyfriend, which I had just gotten comfortable with the idea of not having for a while. If we already know that we have major differences in some of the things we believe and want, should I cut my losses before I get even more invested than I already am? Can I still manage to get out without getting hurt? Our relationship seems so good right now, and has always felt open and honest and comfortable and peaceful and consistently enjoyable and pretty matched in caring - not like my others - but I am a) historically prone to ignoring big red flashing signals that say "Turn back from this relationship!" and b) used to having the rug pulled out from under me just when I think a relationship is making good progress.

I think I've been pretty cautious this time, and I don't think I have my rose-colored glasses on; but that doesn't mean I'm not still waiting to find out exactly how and when this will end. While I try not t be such a downer in my daily interactions, I feel somewhere in the back of my mind that the best I can hope for I that the end doesn't totally suck, and that I get over it fast. Much like one of the characters in the movie, I am pretty sure that this soulmates/true love/find your life partner nonsense is a big pile of stinky poopy. I do have friends whose marriages seem to suggest otherwise ... but I think I am not destined to share their happy fate.

Gee whiz - from my description, you'd think this was a terribly depressing movie! It's not, though ... it's very cute and funny and smart and you should absolutely go see it; despite my mournful reflections, I truly enjoyed the film. And my dire prophecies probably have much more to do with fear of the past than any particular prediction of future behavior. While I don't know how long my boyfriend and I will be together, I am thoroughly thankful for the wonderful time that we've had so far, and I plan to enjoy all the good times that remain for us. I do hope that one day I can let go of that bad history, that it will lose its power to rise up, remind me, and run me over all over again.

Cheers! ;-)

The Plan

(No, not the Cylon plan to destroy the human race ... for that, you'll have to wait for the upcoming BSG movie!!)

Things are quickly settling down as to where I'll be and what I'll be doing in the coming months; this period of my life is quite exciting and fun, as it combines the peace and enjoyment of resting and waiting to see what God puts into place with the surprise of discovering exactly what those next pieces will be. It's like Christmas presents: I know what I put on my wish list, but I never know what gifts I've gotten until the day comes and the package is opened.

Gift #1: I got into grad school! Full time in the Master in Public Administration program at Suffolk University. I found out just a day or two before I went down to see my family in DC/VA, after anxiously watching the mail for weeks.

Gift #2: I got money for grad school! About half of my tuition is covered by a grant/employment fellowship, which totally rocks and makes school quite feasible. I'll still have to take out some loans, but not nearly what I was afraid I might have to do. I'm also going to see if I can try to get another on campus job a few hours a week (ideally, in some way related to what I'm studying) or, alternatively, a little outside job (again, hopefully related to my field, but not so involved that it distracts from my studies) to help with the bills. But the bottom line (no pun intended) is that I should be able to stay in Boston and in my current apartment for the fall.

Gift #3: I still get to spend time in VA with my family! Killing two birds with one stone, I'm going to help my sister out by watching my nephew in July and August (eliminating day care costs and allowing her to work an extra job during those months), and I help myself out by subletting my place so I don't have to worry about paying rent and utilities out of my limited cash reserve for that same period. In a special bonus benefit, I get to be near my other sister while I'm helping her with the wedding planning, and I'll get to see my parents and youngest sister all throughout the summer. So, if you know anyone looking for a July and August sublet, drop me a line! :-)

All in all, it's been a delight to keep seeing what happens next, and to do it in a different way than my normal angsty, trying to figure out how to make everything work, trying to create the options for myself kind of way. I have the blessed luxury of resting - not being lazy or inattentive, but being content in where I am at the moment and knowing that when the next step comes, it will be clear to me and I'll be ready and able to take action. There are still some things that I get nervous about at times - will I find the right sub-letter? do I have enough money to get all the way to September? will I have enough time to get back to Boston and settle in before school? will my relationship with my boyfriend change because of the time apart? - but I'm doing pretty well at turning those worries back over when they pop up. And I remain very, very happy; there's no doubt in my mind that I left my job at the right time, and everything I've done since then has been wonderful time with family, friends and new people I meet. My mom's still a bit concerned for me, but I think she's getting used to my new-found free-time status.

*****

Speaking of free time status, I realized after two weeks of a rather variable waking-dressing-leaving the house routine, I have to give myself a bit more structure. For June, I'd like to make sure I get up, take an exercise walk around the neighborhood, fix myself breakfast and shower and dress before 11AM. For July and August, a friend just inspired me to plan some regular weekly activities for me and my nephew. Not necessarily getting up at the same time every day, but having a day where we go walking or biking around the neighborhood; a day where we go to the library; a day when we go visit my parents at their apartment (and take advantage of the pool in their complex); a day when we go into DC for activities at the museums or other cool places. Hopefully, it will keep us both from watching the Disney Channel and playing Xbox all day ... Although there's sure to be some of that, too!

Everything I learned about leaving, I learned from Scrubs

Last week was the Scrubs season - possibly series - finale, with lead actor Zach Braff doing his last episode. It was a pretty emotional little moment for me, because I absolutely love Scrubs, and if it doesn't come back for another season, I'll be really sad. Even if it does come back, it will definitely be different, and it'll be interesting to see how they re-form the show with a new dynamic. The finale included at the end little outtakes from the final shooting, and clips of the season wrap moments for various actors. I unashamedly admit that I teared up, particularly at the one with Judy Reyes (who oddly, I saw just a week later in an episode of Castle, where she was a totally different kind of character ... nice contrast).

When I woke up in the morning, I discovered I was still agitated with the emotions from the previous night. Yes, some of it was for the show it self (I do seriously love it), but the rest had to do with the resonance the show had for my own personal situation, and some things I had to resolve about leaving a place where I've invested a lot of my time, evergy and self.

[SPOLIER WARNING: If you haven't watched the Scrubs finale and don't want to know what happens until you do, don't keep reading.]

As J.D. prepares for his last day at Sacred Heart, he is looking forward to a day that will appropriately mark the end of 8 years of learning, growing and contributing in this place. The experiences he went through, both personal and professional, were so significant to him, and he wants someone to sum these years up in their actions that day (as he usually does in his voiceovers). There are funny bits about his friend Turk starting off with a big farewell gesture and trying to maintain that intesity throughout the day ... but for the most part, the J.D.'s final day at Sacred Heart is disappointingly normal. Except for one or two small (but touching) moments with close friends, no one really remarks on what is happening; there's no party, no sendoff, no occasion created to show how much he was loved and respected. (There are some other funny bits on this point, about sendoffs for other folks who are going on maternity leave or week-long trips.) J.D. does manage to engineer a final tribute speech from his gruff mentor (and his long-desired hug), but in the end, he has to make his own quiet peace with leaving.

My agitation of the morning after was my own realization that my final days were likely to be much like J.D.'s - largely quiet, unmarked, a business as usual for the rest of the world. No one from my organization was going to fete me or shower me with flowers, tributes and awards; there would be no giant announcement lamenting my departure; and I was going to walk out of the office without ceremony, to go on to the rest of my evening and my life. I was a little bitter that morning, because I thought that someone ought to honor me, gosh darn it; but as my sister reminded me, I had to be at peace with the choice that I had made, and not dependent on others to validate my time here.

She was right, although I hated to hear it at the time and thought she was being very unsympathetic. :-) But my decision to leave my job wasn't a power play to get people to recognize me, or a way to say a giant screw-you to the people I worked with, or with the intention of watching the organization crumble in my absence. I'm leaving because I reached a moment when it was clear that my time at the organization was done, and even though it seems strange to leave a secure job in an uncertain economy without another prospect lined up right away, I feel very confident and at peace that this way the absolute right decision. I feel like God was preparing the way all this time; it was kind of fascinating to me how on Easter Sunday I finally felt reconciled with him, and then that Tuesday I had a meeting where it became clear that it was time to go. At first, I said, "Wait, you take me from all that joy to this crappy day?" But it was actually perfect timing ... I'd been going through this conversation with myself and my board about leaving for months, since almost a year ago, and agonizing and trying to figure out alternate solutions and line up other possibilities. It never seemed to work out where I could feel comfortable leaving; but when this day came in April and I came out of that meeting, the decision was so clear that it was hardly a decision at all, just the obvious thing I was supposed to do next.

Since then, I haven't really had any doubts, and I've been almost unbelievably happy. I don't know if I've gotten into grad school; I don't know if I'm going to have income to be able to stay in Boston through the summer, let alone beyond that; I might have to make a major move back to Virginia to be with my family. But none of that troubles or worries me; in fact, the only times I felt agita during this whole process was when people tried to suggest that maybe I should stay on a couple more months (which raised a horrible twisting feeling inside), and when I wasn't quite letting go of a project that I've been working on and felt a real investment in (kept me tossing and turning over the past weekend, until I realized that all that tossing and turning was a sign that I was taking a wrong approach, and I realized that God would either make a way for me to continue to be involved that felt absolutely right, or He wouldn't and I wasn't meant to keep being involved). Spiritually, God restored my relationship with Him so that I could have complete faith in what He is doing during this time; and financially, God gave me some extra cushion that I would usually never have, which allows me to spend the next few weeks without worry.

And that's that. I don't yet know what He's doing with me or where He plans for me to be, and tomorrow is my last day at my job - but I can't wait to see what the days after tomorrow will bring. I'll keep you all posted ... withouth this whole distracting "work" thing, I have much more time ot spend online. ;-)

BTW ...

... I have plenty of post-Easter news, but it's all so big I don't quite know where to start writing about it. The quick and dirty summary is:

• I feel much better spiritually, and am not fighting with God anymore.
• I decided to leave my job.
• I am still struggling with the whole "having community" thing, and I may choose to resolve that struggle by moving back to be near my family.

Not-quick versions to come, as soon as I can figure out how to write about each of those things in some sort of relatively-organized manner.

Racism - it's everywhere!

Or so the NAACP would like you to believe.

Now, I'm a fan of many things that the NAACP has done and continues to do. But its existence, much like the careers of Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, seems to have become largely dependent on finding racism in as many places as possible ... Thus you end up with a vast network of people who may be much more invested in perpetuating th sense of a problem than finding real ways to address the problem - and therefore causing themselves, or at least their current way of operating, to become obsolete.

The latest example of this race-mongering is this dratted New York Post cartoon. The furor over this is driving me crazy, because the response of so much of the "black establishment" is textbook: cry racism and demand apologies first, have rational or thoughtful dialogue about the matter much, much later - if at all. It's far more politically profitable to raise a fuss insisting that this cartoon was about President Obama being a monkey and getting shot by racist police than to explore the notion that this cartoon didn't have anything to do with race, and maybe we all need to dial down our offendable sensitivities just a tad.

Because it wasn't a cartoon about race; it was a cartoon expressing frustration about the stimulus bill, using a local event as a vehicle for commentary. The monkey being shot was an actual monkey (a chimpanzee, technically) who had gone on a little rampage in Stamford, CT and had to be taken out by local police. The connection between monkeys and the stimulus bill was not because Obama is black, and therefore chimp-like; it was an allusion to many varieties of jokes about monkeys at typewriters spewing out gibberish, but over time being able to produce coherent language inadvertently. The "monkeys at typwriters" in question could be construed to include President Obama as one of the originators of the priorities of the bill, but the group toward which the anger is directed is primarily composed of the bill's authors: Congressional Democrats and their aides, the vast majority of whom are white.

I understand the long history of insulting comparisons between people of African descent and monkeys, and the resulting sensitivity among the African-American community. But one's sensitivity to other people's past injurious actions doesn't automatically justify outrage at a completely different person's present actions, which may have a superficial similarity to the past but are not at all alike in intent or meaning. Robert Downey Jr.'s role in Tropic Thunder as a white actor who gets plastic surgery to be able to play a black character isn't about ridiculing black people and perpetuating awful stereotypes (the goal of "blackface" actors in the early 20th century); it's about ridiculing popular stereotypes of black people, with the apt foil of an actual black actor in the movie who comments on the nonsensical portrayal. The use of blackface as a medium to undermine everything that blackface was about isn't insulting, it's brilliant (not to mention insanely funny).

Understanding such nuances is critical to properly responding to the situations we confront as individuals and a society; but the current era of political so-called leaders who are up in arms about this cartoon would rather go for controversial and attention-grabbing soundbites than actual understanding that would advance our dialogues about the lingering issues of race in this country. Why do the hard work of sifting through the complex layers of racial stereotyping and misunderstanding in which we all participate, when you can get just as much airtime with far less effort by calling everyone who gets your dander up a racist?

The ultimate problem is that we still do have very difficult and damaging race (and class) issues to deal with in this country, and this kind of tempest over nothing takes away resources from the hard work that needs to be done. It also makes it far more difficult to call out actual incidents of racism; like the boy who cried wolf, if we call everything that upsets us racism, then we won't be believed or paid attention to when something serious and truly problematic comes along. The race-mongers may secure their jobs for a time while raising constant alarms and continuing not to create meaningful solutions ... But the time will come when people get tired of being told to constantly be angry and afraid, and their false "leadership" will be exposed for the fraud that it is.

Decalring your love on Facebook

So I was having a conversation at an alumni reception about Facebook relationship status changes; a fellow alum and new Facebook friend was telling me the story of how, once he joined the site, his longtime girlfriend decided to "declare their love to the world" by changing her relationship status and indicating they were dating each other. (He also delighted in the sense of power that he had in having to accept her status change linking them before it could officially be made.) We were laughing at how big a deal that is in the Facebook world; since we all use it to keep up on every minute detail of one another's lives through status updates, a relationship change always prompts questions and wall comments.

I've been wondering about changing my status for a while now; I didn't know if "the guy I'm seeing" and I were ready to announce our relationship so publicly. But since we decided in a recent conversation that, after passing the 3-month mark last week, we've reached the boyfriend/girlfriend stage of things, the question has been rambling around in my head again this weekend. It's pretty funny: I'm less concerned about the actual shift in our relationship label - which honestly doesn't change our relationship at all, so it's funny that it's such a big deal with me and somehow makes me feel more secure - than the announcement on a social networking site - which matter even less than the new label. I'm kind of a doofus.

Anyway, I think I'm going to test it out, and see what happens. It's kind of exciting! But truly, the most exciting news is that after 2 years, I finally have a nice, sweet, sexy, funny, smart, cute, awesome boyfriend who I really like. :-) Woohoo!

Freak out!

(Be sure to add in the disco beat; it makes everything more fun. :-) )

So yesterday's post was my little mini-freak-out brain dump; in the light of day on the actual 2-month mark, I am not beset by the vast compilation of worries that plagued me yestereve. It probably helps my mood that it's a gorgeous October day and that My Architect (his new code name) stopped by following his celebration in Kenmore of the Red Sox's fabulous comeback. Whatever the reason, the nervous nellies aren't permanent, and I'm continuing to pleasantly enjoy our hanging out.

Silly rabbit!

2-month mark

I did something today that made me feel so like "that girl" in a relationship. It started with a totally minor occurrence: a throw-away comment from him about my attentiveness to work at the moment. But I guess it hit my guilt spot, because I kept thinking about it and then I called him later to ask "if he really thought I was a slacker ... because I'm not and I'm very responsible and I'd hate it if he thought I didn't take my responsibilities seriously; I'm just in a weird place in my job right now," etc., etc. He was good-naturedly puzzled as to why it was bothering me so much and why I felt I needed his approval; he was also pretty good-tempered considering I was calling in the middle of his preparations for an important meeting. I hung up feeling sufficiently ridiculous, and avoided the temptation to make an even bigger deal out of nothing by calling him again to apologie for being so needy. I went about the rest of my day without incident.

I felt pretty dumb for feeling insecure enough to make the call ... and then I felt mad at myself for feeling dumb. I mean, so what? I felt insecure and wanted a little reassurance. What's the big deal, why do I have to feel like I should feel foolish?

Ultimately, it's all part of a more general security shift I'm experiencing right now. When does a trait like calling a couple of times a day to talk about nothing go from being endearing (if it is endearing) to annoying? What happens when I really do have one of my insecure days about my skills or my body or our relationship - or better yet, one of my truly cranky and pissy days, or one of my depressed and crying days? I think I've been pretty likeable of late, but I've also been on good behavior; I'm not pretending to be other than I am, but the combination of circumstances and a desire to impress have kept my crazy to a minimum, or at least restricted to my personal time. I can only go for so long without some of my less lovable traits making an appearance - and so I start waiting to find out exactly which part of my personality will cause someone to get tired of being around me. So there, my crazy's out in the open now.

I also worry about other things, because I like to keep my mind occupied. When do I get to switch my Facebook status to "in a relationship" - and what is the difference between "seeing each other" and "boyfriend/girlfriend," anyway? Will things change when he starts his new job, and he doesn't stop by the office during the day, plus he's busy at night focusing on school? Will he think I'm demanding? Will I think he's neglecting me? Will I actually have to start thinking about all the other things in my life that would worry me if I didn't have him to take my mind off them?

So that's about where I am - mostly normal and reasoanble outside, kinda loopy inside. It's about par for the course for me at this stage. Let's hope that talking it out on my blog gives me the space to think before reacting in real life. Here's hopin'!

Reflecting on history

So, I just spent a (large) bit of time re-reading over my entire blog. It was prompted by a conversation earlier today with my former roommate (the nice one); part of her response was surprise at some of the feelings I expressed about how we stopped living together, but she also commented on the way that I seemed to grow and become more open about who I am and my varying reactions to things over the course of my writings. I was glad that she saw that trend, which was what I'd hoped to have happen as I did this. She didn't disown me afterwards, which was also good. :-)

It was interesting seeing the path that my life and thoughts have taken over the course of the years. I am amused at the things I continue to rant about, because I hadn't realized I'd been doing so for so long; but I also enjoy feeling that everything I wrote was very consistently me, and being able to put out a lot of different facets of me. There wasn't really anything I read and said, "Oh boy, do I wish I hadn't put that out there!" or "Man, did I really write like that?" It'll be even more interesting, if I keep this blog up, to see how I feel in another 4 or 5 years, and where I am then. But I don't know if I'll have the strength to read through every single post in one sitting; it's a lot of reading!

Additional point of note: my "squeeze" has also read at least some of the blog, and did not back away in horror. (I'm being overly dramatic; he's a very open, accepting guy as a general rule, and my nervousness is more based on my irrational fear than his observable behavior.) Also, we had "the talk" last night, and it has been determined that we are exclusively seeing one another, definitely enjoying the experience so far, and willing to see where it goes as it goes along. I feel pretty comfortable with that ... no pressure, but the pleasure of someone who likes me back equally. It's a fun and relaxing place to be.