Mental States



…and now I’m officially 33.

This has been a great weekend so far. Saturday we did a four-way celebration at Ruth’s Chris for an early dinner: Mr. W’s daughter’s high school graduation, Mr. W’s son’s 20th birthday, my 33rd birthday, and his belated father’s day. After dinner, Mr. W and I walked to the Lake and watched the free Chris Botti concert. It was uh-MAIZE-ing. Click his link and have a window open with your speakers on as you read this to get a taste of my experience. Our lake association has magical powers. Not only did we get Chris Botti to come give a great concert, but he brought along top-notch musicans to play piano/keyboard, electric guitar, drums and bass guitar. These are Grammy winning musicians. The sun set over the lake as the jazzy bluesy notes seemed to make the very water ripples dance in syncopation, and my husband and I lounged on our reclining beach chairs before settling down on our backs on the blanket to watch the stars. Mr. Botti, you have a new fan. And I love your personality and stories.

Today, Mr. W and I got out of the house early to meet Brad L. for breakfast at an authentic German restaurant in Anaheim, Jaegerhaus (correct name has an umlaut over the “a”). Brad’s in SoCal with his family for a wedding. We had a great time chatting about geoducks and cell phones over breakfast, and remarked how the last time we saw each other, we were all single. Then we came home and I made a batch of lime jello shots (whew, mental note to lighten up on vodka for the party batch!) as testers before heading off with Mr. W to meet my parents, grandma, and grandma’s youngest sister visiting from Taiwan, for dinner. Afterwards we brought a little artsy green tea cake to Grandma’s to hang out and chat.

They talked about wishing they had a camera to document the day, and then everyone realized they had cameraphones, so out those came.

You have to imagine me with MY cameraphone behind my parents doing the same thing.

I’m optimistic about the coming years. Brad gave us a great lead for an all-inclusive guided tour trip through Japan, and we’re looking into it. For more immediate things to anticipate, we’ve spent hundreds in preparation for my upcoming bday shindig, and I’m surprised and flattered at how many people are planning to attend. And soon, I have the jujitsu campout trip in mid-August to look forward to. Between then and now, many bike rides on my new hybrid bicycle (birthday present from Mr. W), and many kayaking outings at our lake.

I absolutely believe in the resilience of the heart and soul, and with each healing day, the return of the mind. I’ve found that being in an environment rich with humor, nurturing, learning, and support speeds up recovery by streaming positive energy at the injury, although I think time alone eventually helps one arrive at peace and balance, too, albeit this may be a slower path for some. For myself, I am grateful for every smile received, every hand extended, every light shone on me, and every type of wonder I’ve been open enough to realize I’m in the presence of. I am filled with appreciation for all my healers. The world has brilliance, and I welcome it.

I didn’t even notice it till now, but my blog is 4 years old this month! Happy birthday, bloggy. Mike (“wilco”) brought it into existence June 1, 2005, but my first post was June 3. It’s odd to read some of the really old stuff and see that I’ve come full circle and even recently had some of the same feelings. I think I’m at a pretty decent place now, though. And like in June, 2005, I am inspired to DO stuff. I’m a little bummed to see some of the stuff I had on my list then that I still am unable to cross off, but I think my list now is more realistic. For example, instead of getting a Honda street bike, I’m getting a mountain/road hybrid bicycle. Much healthier. I’m back to wanting wholesome activities in my life — camping, hiking, biking, and now I add kayaking to the list. And I can’t say there was NO progress in my life. In the last 4 years, the blog holds evidence that I’ve…
* picked up a martial art, and stopped going to the martial art.
* picked up belly dancing, and stopped going to belly dancing.
* got certified in mixology.
* made some brand new lifelong friends — who says that once you’re in your 20s, you’ve already got everyone in your life that you’re gonna be close to? Right, Vanessa, Josh, Ann, Mike, Christi, Brigitte, Jordan? I probably left some people out.
* reconnected and bonded tightly with some old friends, who’ve grown up a lot.
* picked up a godson.
* ran my first half-marathon.
* dated some weird and wonderful people, and married one.
* bought my second house
* cured Dodo’s eye issue and got him out of his cone for the first time since 2001 (the new vet helped a little, too. 🙂 )
* checked Cancun, Hawaii, Florida, the Caribbean, off from the will-visit list

…and most recently, got my first speeding ticket; got my first parking ticket.

This month, I will hit the 1/3-century mark.

I’ve never really wanted to jump ahead and read the ending of the book of my life. I hadn’t even wanted to skip to the end of the chapter, “just to know.” I think knowing would influence my decisions, and I risk losing the lesson. But today, I took a stand in my life and wavered a little doing it, so my court reporter invited me to meet her at a coffee shop after work and talk to a specific clairvoyant who conducted a free workshop there every so often. I did. I didn’t think I had questions as I was in a now-rare moment of clarity (or so I thought), but soon the questions came. A lot of what Rebecca said was dead-on, although I gave her virtually no information except a first name. Some information was not comforting because they were things I already knew and was hoping wasn’t the case. Other information answered questions that I’d had for years, and confirmed things from earlier in my life. A great thing I took was when she answered someone else’s question about a screenplay he was working on. She said that altho it’s going the independent route, it was going to be picked up shortly before Sundance, but that it wasn’t going to happen for a few years because one member of the writing team would take a brief hiatus to take care of health issues, and they were going to do a major rewrite around 2010. When it REALLY picks up and takes off, she said, is in 2012. This is significant because…that means there’s a 2012! My uncle was wrong, the world is NOT going to end in 3 years! Yes!

I got to hit one of the items in my list yesterday, thanks to Ann. We had spa day at a Burke Williams dayspa in my city that I didn’t even know was there. “That’s sad,” my massage therapist Scott said about that, “We’ve been here ten years.” But I’m so glad Ann looked it up, found it, and we went!

It was a much needed girl day; we started by meeting for a brunch of crêpes at Lulu’s Creperie Cafe, a local favorite of mine. La Galette with ham, mushroom, & spinach Brittany topped with 2 poached eggs, yum. Then we wandered into a Mediterranean bakery where Ann bought a bunch of little pastries before we hit the spa. I soaked in the whirlpool for awhile, slinked into the steam room to sweat out all my impurities and months’ worth of stressers, then met back up with Ann in the Quiet Room to read in fluffy recliners before an attractive man came in to collect me for my 80 minute relaxation massage.

I had a great time on that massage table. Scott is the therapist who trains the other massage therapists there on the deep tissue technique. He also does physical therapy and personal fitness training at a rehab gym in an affluent nearby area. I happened to have a lot of gymming soreness. “I guess I got lucky,” I said, face-down.
“I’d like to think so,” Scott joked.
I had one of the best conversations I’d had in awhile. The topic started off with physical training and nutrition, transitioned into his other job, and by the time 80 minutes were up we’d hit sociology, theories on what motivates human decisions consciously and unconciously, religion and its effect on the masses, personal searches for defining and achieving happiness. It wasn’t too unlike the conversations I have with Dwaine, even recently, but it was a great uninterrupted 80 minutes of it. What I also liked, was that he actually listened to me and wasn’t afraid to call me on something that I’d said without putting sufficient thought behind it. Kept me on my toes. And he made me laugh. “Do you and your friends sit around coffee shops and have long talks like this?” I asked.
“No,” he answered fairly quickly. “I don’t have enough friends like this who I can talk to about anything philosophical.”
“That’s too bad,” I said, and I meant it. It’s not often I find a really introspective man who can also be blatantly honest about himself with a stranger. Then again, Mr. W is always astounded at how much random people open up to me. The rarity with this guy, though, is that the conversation wasn’t one-sided. It wasn’t just him telling me stuff, asking me how I see his situations. We had a very nice mental tennis match. Entertainment like that while getting an effective sports massage and diagnosis by an actual trained physical therapist who was able to relieve my sore muscles and tell me how to tweak my workout routines made for a great first half of the day. He also provided a new perspective that balanced my flailing spirit, but he’ll never know.

My attempt to “do” yesterday didn’t work out too well. I tried to race home after work, but the awful congested freeways stopped me. When I finally made it, I grabbed Mr. W, and we went to a Oggi’s Pizza & Brewery to watch Game 1 of the Lakers-Magic playoffs, but it was so ridiculously crowded we knew we wouldn’t get seats, much less service. We came home and had a night in instead. It allowed me to harass the other people in the playoffs bet with me online, anyhow.

I want to spontaneously go away; it doesn’t have to be far, just different. Maybe even San Diego for a weekend, live a short fantasylife at Hotel del Coronado.
I want to disappear to sorta-faraway places, too, like finally stay in that bed-and-breakfast at the Niagara Peninsula, just for a few days.
I want to have random highlight-of-the-week wine dinners and spa days with friends.
I want spur-of-the-moment barbecues and lake kayaking with my local cousins, some of whom have never been to this house or the private lake.
I want to romp around Orlando waterparks with Jordan.
I want to visit Bathhouse Row in Hot Springs, Arkansas.
I want to drive through and explore the Old South, walk in the old plantation areas, see if I feel anything, any tugs, while I’m among the ghosts of the past.
I want to feel comfortable on a street bike and a sea-doo.
I want to tap a maple tree and extract my own maple syrup, boil it, and make maple candy by pouring the syrup on packed snow.
I am aware that I may have lost my mind.

I’ll be good again, someday soon.

I had an epiphany in my car on the drive to work today. Relive it with me. Play this below as you read.

Okay. You’re flying low, 90 mph with 306 horses purring underneath the control of your right foot, leather steering wheel of your luxury sports sedan smoothly steady in your hands, this song pumping in Mark Levinson premium surround sound.
As your right hand involuntarily lifts off the wheel to mark each pulsating rhythmic beat, you find your body swaying ever so slightly left and right, and then more defiantly now, until you are dancing in your seat. The music matches your elevating mood, draws it farther upward, triggering your body to release adrenaline and endorphins. “Let it rock, let it rock!”
I’m sick of being stressed. I’m sick of feeling immobile. I choose, right now and here, to be AWESOME instead. Thank you, Barney Stinson.

I refuse to be powerless. I will not spend my youth watching things pass by. Screw the walls I keep turning into. I can’t wait to start doing, effective immediately.

The stress has done its thing in the recent past days. The below photo is from Tuesday, when I was so not-feeling-it that I called in sick to work. Some hours went by when I moped in bed for awhile, but then I forced my body into submission (so to speak) by making it trek the 2 hilly miles to the Lake, kayaking for an hour, and then of course returning on foot.

The result was kind of funny. During the hike there and back, I was in a tanktop, which resulted in a deep bronze tan on my arms and outer shoulders. Kayaking was done in the outfit above, and I got sunburned with the reflection off the water, so my upper shoulders are pink. Of course the parts the straps covered, which also re-covered the Dominican Republic’s bikini tan, is soft white. My shoulders now look like Neopolitan ice cream. I am now Awesome Neopolitan Ice Cream.

(I can’t wait for “How I Met Your Mother” to return.)

I’ve stopped sleeping well. When the TV goes off, or when the room goes quiet, or when visual stimuli go away such as when the lights go down or my eyes close, or when my dreams stop and my consciousness returns, my mind is crowded. In the past 24 hours, the usual crowding has acquired a soundtrack: Bryan Adams’ “Please Forgive Me.” So I finally looked up the lyrics today. :/

I need the strength to stop seeing things that bother me. I need the mental and emotional stability to see those things and not be affected. I need to regain the larger-picture heaven-down perspective of life that I used to access.

Or maybe I just need to get away.

No, that probably wouldn’t work; I’m as away as I can be right now, in the Dominican Republic, clad in a bikini top and denim shorts in the VIP lounge of a top-rated resort, I finally debloated so I’m comfortable (relatively) in my skin, and what am I doing? Blogging my mental issues. =P

I’m not sure what the solution is. Therapy, maybe. The yellows seem to be fleeting these days. It takes work and tremendous effort in silencing the head to bring them to the foreground, and only a careless slip caused by lack of concentration, a scent, a sound, a written word, a view, a song, for the dark blanket to settle over me.

I’m fine, I’m fine.

Okay, I’m working on it.

I wonder what I’d be like if I weren’t crippled by earthly emotions, and could respond to the coldness of loved ones by giving them more love. If I were above the fray, I could clear-headedly evaluate a situation like someone drifting away from me and act cleverly to circumvent it or turn it around, instead of feeling hurt and drawing inward instead. The advice I give others who are lost comes from a detached and objective view, which is why the advice works. But when I’m the injured party, it becomes extremely difficult to focus outside of the pain to find the actual bullseye one-strike target. I’ve developed enough control over time to keep from firing everywhere haphazardly and desperately (which from past experience has created more irreparable harm than good), and I know it’s more effective to start with a cool-headed analysis and make the one simple and strategic hit that will resolve everything. Why am I using a battle metaphor?

Emotion is what clips our wings, makes us human. I’d love to be ethereal enough to look down at the chessboard and think, “I’m here, you’re there; you’re there because of this and that move, and the goal is to bring us together. That can happen if I stay patient, low-key, and send small, unintrusive things your way to show you and remind you how much you are loved. When you have time to remember me, you’ll come.” Instead, I hurt, I reach out, feel rejected, ball up, and wait for strength to run the other way.

A friend asked me, “You are so tactical, how do you not rule the world already?” Another fairly frequently asks, “Where do you see [yourself] going?” The answer is the same; my sight is muddy when it comes to my own life, because otherwise what’s the point of being here if I already KNOW everything? So I study the chessboard, and I make guesses — blind ones when it comes to my own life — and fight the urge to run, because I feel it’s my duty to pay attention and learn while I’m here. That’s the best I can do without my wings.

I was in my dark place this morning driving to work, as the various demises of relationships past played in my head. It seems the beginning of the end consistently had the factor of disappointment in it. By that I mean, disappointment becomes predictable, then expected, then proven true. The issues were different, of course. To oversimplify, one lied about everything, where he was, what he did, his past (issue=integrity); another always threw me aside for his friends (issue=priority); a third did a combination of the last two but took it up a level as the lies were covering up extremely hurtful things he did while with his friends (issues=integrity, priority, morality); a fourth flaked on me all the time, both in calls and activities (issues=consideration, priority).

My relationship bible for a period was Greg Behrendt’s book “He’s Just Not That Into You.” I’ve quoted from it to girlfriends often, when they go through their relationship crap. “He’s just not that into you if he doesn’t call,” one chapter explained. In this world of electronic leashes, each person has various means of accessibility at virtually any given time in the day. Right now, for example, you’d get a hold of me if you comment on this blog, call my desk phone, call my cell phone, email me through my work, email me through my personal email, text message me. I’d also get automatic email notification if you write a message to me through any of three social networking websites. In this day and age, people have so much access to communication tools that their asses accidentally call other people while sitting on their cell phones. So don’t tell me you had zero time in a 4-day period to make one phone call if you gave a shit about me and meant it when you said you want a relationship to work, because all I know is that despite being accused of not trying, my efforts had been met with slaps and denials, and one tiny small effort on the other side that could have been taken, was not. It’d been previously discussed, it would’ve cost nothing, taken up almost no time, and it would have meant everything. (issues=effort, communication, connectivity)

Running off for 4 days and not calling is not the same severity as lying, cheating or even flaking but I crumpled just the same because all of these things trace back to the same state of mind. That is, I am not important enough to be afforded the courtesy of connectivity, even when things are on the brink of collapse.

And, he does not miss me.

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