Of Boobs, Boys, and Life in General

I had an appointment yesterday with the boob-o-matic machine (follow up mammogram/sonogram). Everything is "stable," but I knew all along that nothing was wrong. The "mass" that was biopsied has been there since my 20s, and I had forgotten all about it. Also, it's nowhere near the milk ducts, which is typically where breast cancer begins. As you all probably know, I was more afraid of the procedure itself than the results.

I learned something interesting, though. The doctor that performed the biopsy inserted a "marker" where the sample was taken, so when they do x-rays, they can see exactly where the procedure was performed. It looks like a little tiny breast cancer ribbon! I feel like I've been microchipped; if I ever get lost, they can at least take me to the nearest boob doctor. Or Big Brother Boob is watching. Or something.

While I was waiting in the lobby for my films, I was reading the brief bio which hung beneath the portrait of Susan Cheek Needler, the woman for whom the breast cancer center is named. She died 10 years ago at age 52. It made me think that, had the cosmic coin toss come up "tails," I would be fighting cancer right now, rather than doing preventive maintenance. I could be going there for treatments instead of follow up "well care," calculating my life expectancy and wondering if I would see my 50th birthday. I still might not have the 40-50 years ahead of me that I think I do. I guess that's my long version of "life's too short."

While it wasn't the life-changing revelation that it might have been, it was still a good reality check. I've wasted too much time already on people and things that aren't worth it. I've given away too much rent-free space in my brain to things I can't change, and not enough to changing the things I can (oh, gawd, you know what THAT sounds like). I have, in fact, put just about everything on hold during the last two years while I've been searching for Mister Right. I wasn't looking for a "savior," I just had my priorities mixed up.

When I invented my little self-improvement project a week ago, I was on the right track. Since then, I've been drifting back into that powerless, hoping-he'll-change-his-mind, hoping-he'll-call waiting game, a sort of mental prison that's been keeping me from making any real progress. I've been reading all the right books, analyzing the situation ad nauseum, what he did wrong, what I did wrong, what was wrong in general. What I could do to try and get another chance at this. I had actively been scheming to try and contact J. in a month or so, after we'd both had a chance to cool off. I finally realized what a futile waste of my time and energy that would be.

So last night, I wrote a semi-sappy goodbye letter to J., and sent it (I was going to use a "message in a bottle" metaphor here, but thought it was too cheesy). I asked him to reply, if only to let me know he's read it. I've heard nothing. He may have me filtered out of his mailbox and may never even get it. But it was the only thing I could do to give myself a feeling of having some control over this situation. I had to let it go. I think I have, in the practical sense of literally moving on. Emotionally, I'm not so sure. All I can do is try, and trust that time will take care of this hurt, too.

Hardly worth writing about - Day 6

This hasn't been a very inspiring or exciting week so far. I'm having my usual problem with sustaining my motivation. I did get out of the house this morning and took Timmy and Pancho to the dog park. I got home around noon and have been piddling around, sometimes just pacing around the room, for most of the afternoon. I sat in the sun for awhile, but haven't really done anything else worth mentioning (as if THAT was worth mentioning).

I had one thought that SHOULD help me get over J., if I would just WANT to get over him. And that is that even if he and I had a perfect relationship, my life much of the time would look just like today. Alone. He often tried to hammer that home to me, and I just brushed it aside, the fact that half my time in a relationship with him would be WITHOUT him. And I'm not the kind of person that would deal well with all that waiting on a regular basis. I'm not "needy" but if I'm in a relationship, I don't want to be alone, either.

I often complain that I don't have time to do this or that thing. Then something like this happens and suddenly an entire weekend yawning before me seems like something I can't possibly tolerate on my own. Prior to J., I would've accomplished great things during a weekend, or not, and it wouldn't have mattered a lot. Now I feel like an absolute failure if I don't have some project or chore to occupy my every minute, or the motivation to do it.

I probably seem a little schizoid in these recent postings, my mood and attitude about this thing changes from minute to minute sometimes. I'm not lying in bed crying all day, but I haven't exactly been the "new me" that I aspired to just a few days ago.

Progress Report - Day 5

I haven't done anything on the job front. I'm hoping that the job I applied for last weekend will materialize. In a month I should at least know one way or the other, and if it doesn't happen, I should be beginning to do some of the transcription work, for which I'll need to buy some equipment and software first. That will take a little time and research,but I'm going to try and make a phone call today about that, and find out how much it's going to cost me to get outfitted to do this at home. So, by the end of my first month, mid-May, I should have something positive to report on the job front.

My lovelorn weight loss plan is working beautifully. I can't eat a thing. I've now lost 6 lbs. since about 2 weeks ago. I choke down half a package of ramen soup at lunch, and that's about all I want, all day. Not the healthiest way to lose it, but I'll do it however I can right now.

I tackle the house decluttering a half hour at a time after work. I'm working on the laundry/ storage area now and have already made some headway. I just go through a couple of boxes every day and throw away what I can. I've put some stuff into the car to drop off at a Goodwill trailer at lunch time today. I may have the Salvation Army come pick up some old furniture, once I can decide what to part with.

I haven't started my yard work yet (will try to get that going this weekend), and I haven't gone out all week. But I've been reading and writing like crazy, and will be trying to post entries here at least every couple of days, even if they're not terribly inspired. I ordered cheap "student organizer" software that has a timeline builder in it. Hopefully that'll arrive early next week and keep me on task for the duration.

Not a lot of progress, but a reasonable start for the first week, IMHO.

Move along, nothing to see here

I want to write something postive, but I'm having an emotional "relapse" tonight. Regrets over my behavior with J., again. I'll ALWAYS regret the way this ended, and that I have no way to make it right. I've e-mailed and left phone messages, to the point of feeling like a stalker chick, and he just won't answer me. I hope I've learned something this time. I miss this guy in the worst way. He may not have been perfect, he may not have been Mr. Right, but now I'll never know for sure. And I had feelings for him that I haven't felt in a very long time. Years. This sucks.

I Get Knocked Down (but I get up again)

Maybe that's not such a bad line after all.

Last night, I made an executive decision to pick myself back up and get my "house" in order, both literally and figuratively speaking. And to light a fire under my butt, I'm giving myself 3 months/90 days. My most ambitious self improvement project since I quit drinking. I plan to transform myself, inside and out, by mid-July. And in the meantime, NO BOY HUNTING.

I've made some progress this year so far, but I'm still in the same rut I've been in for 5 years. A lot of my big plans got sidelined last year due to all my health issues, but that in itself was a major personal victory over the phobias that have plagued me since childhood.

I generally can only concentrate on one thing at a time, but I need to change that. I've chosen the 90 day deadline (July 16) so that I will have a sense of urgency, but still be able to achieve some significant accomplishments. I roughed some things out on paper last night, and the main things I would like to accomplish are:

1. Get a new job
2. Get the house decluttered - throw away, give away, organize "stuff"
3. Get the yard in reasonable shape - I'm ashamed to say I've done next to no yard work in almost a year.
4. Lose 20 lbs. - This one's going to be difficult; there's really not enough time in 3 mos., especially with all this other stuff I'll be doing.
5. Get out of the house 4 times a week, for at least an hour, either for exercise, or just some activity to get me OUT. Dog parks, treat myself to dinner once in awhile, sewing at Bonnie's, etc.
6. Reconnect with my hobbies - sewing, cross stitch, and KEEP WRITING.

The progress I've made so far includes taking the medical terminology course, which will be over in a few weeks, and thanks to Phil's prodding, I've applied for a job at his company. He seems to think I'm a natural for the position (promotional writing/editing), but I haven't heard a peep from the HR gods yet. If that fails, I'll throw myself wholeheartedly into doing the medical transcription work, and hopefully be doing it full time by the end of the year.

I've got to get unstuck, and maybe that's one of the reasons I can't seem to find the right relationship. The ultimate (and ulterior) motive is, of course, to find THE long term relationship, and I feel a little guilty for relying on an exterior source of motivation, however, I'm also a big fan of "whatever works," and if thinking about a future Mr. Right gets me out of the gate, then so be it. That's how I began my successful weight loss campaign 6 years ago (we won't talk about how much I've gained back since then).

Of course, the possibility exists, as I've discovered many times before, that I'll come out on the other side of this not having accomplished much of anything, due to loss of motivation, or having been shown once again how very little control I actually have over anything. But I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

And I am totally sick of pumping $200 in gasoline into my car every month.

Afterthoughts

I woke up again with that awful feeling. I thought I was feeling a little bit better, but this morning I've got that awful hollowed-out feeling again, just like that first day. I guess I'd been harboring some small hope that I'd hear from J. again, that there was some chance of "fixing" this. I'm probably never going to see him again. We never got a chance to do even a fraction of the things we talked about doing together, things like sailing trips and rollerblading, or just spending a whole day in bed. Things that were dangled before me in my mind's eye like carrots that got snatched away just as I was ready to grab. I always perceived that he was somehow "out of my league" which made me all the crazier about him, and all the more insecure.

I had valid reasons to be upset; the problem is that I haven't learned how to express anger/discontent in an adult way. I suck it up until I blow. I've replayed it over and over in my head. I did have legitimate gripes. As I did with other boyfriends that I've lost this way. I blow up the way I do because I assume that the relationship will end anyway when I air my complaints, so I may as well be certain that I have my say (be right rather than happy). And they inevitably do end, not necessarily because I have an issue, but because I can't sit down and work it out in a reasonable adult manner.

I read a little book yesterday called "He's Just Not That Into You," and J. fit neatly into a couple of the scenarios presented in the book. If the author (a guy) is accurate in his premise, it probably wouldn't have lasted anyway. As my counselor told me, I should have expressed my anger in a more constructive way; however, HIS behavior kind of set me up to behave/react the way I did.

So. It may never have been the relationship I wanted, but I hate like hell that my behavior gave him the "out" that he may have already been looking for, or I handed him a reason to want out. I'm tired of looking, tired of being alone. Tired of being responsible for my aloneness. I'm my own worst enemy; I seem to screw these things up just when the happiness I want seems to be almost within my grasp. Maybe the operative word is "almost." Maybe it never would have been within reach and that's part of the frustration.

Dr. Phil be damned....

...I guess I'd rather be right than be happy. This guy that spent a couple of days this week e-mailing me, trying to convince me to meet him, decided that our date tonight had to be postponed so he could go pick up his new fishing boat. And you know what? I told him to forget it, deal's off. I will not have a boat take priority over me EVER again, whether it's the first date or a fiancee. There was a time when I was pretty flexible about things like that; now I see it as a sign of things to come.

I'm fed up with broken dates and postponed plans, playing second fiddle to a stupid boat (or car), and being treated like I'm "disposable." So those are the buttons this guy pressed without even meeting me. So now he's not going to. I'm fed up with the dating "game." He hammered the final nail into my match.com "experience." I am never again going out with anyone who treats me like anything less than gold. I'm finished "settling" for losers, commitment-phobes and people that treat me like I just don't matter very much.

Go Figure

You've probably heard that old joke, "Why are you beating your head against the wall?" "Because it feels so good when I stop." Or words to that effect. I made a Big D. yesterday, to stop beating my head against the match.com wall. I decided that I'm done dating for awhile, maybe a long while.

Just prior to making that decision, I had made contact with one other guy. So I wrote to him and said only that I'd had a short relationship that didn't work out, but I was hurting, and not good date material right now. In spite of that, he continued to correspond with me, and finally talked me into meeting later this week.

He seems nice, but I can't fathom why anyone would want to go out with me right now. I didn't go into specifics, but was very clear about not having much enthusiasm for dating now, and I didn't want to waste his time. He must be a glutton for punishment, or an opportunist. I'm not sure what to think.

I'm still convinced that J. was The One, despite plenty of evidence to the contrary. I'm afraid that I'm always going to think of him as "the one that got away." And even if I do get over it at some point, I'll always regret the way it ended. And how I always seem to bungle a good thing because of my impatience and immaturity.

One more little whine...

After sleeping most of the morning, I put some clothes on and took Pancho and Timmy to the dog park. I watched all the animals joyfully bouncing around, unashamedly sniffing one another's butts, just happy to go for a ride and be around other dogs for awhile. Their people are all chit-chatting, enjoying the afternoon. Me, I feel like I'm in some kind of an invisible bubble, isolated from everything and everyone else. The hollow achey feeling won't go away, and I feel certain that I've just blown my last chance EVER at a relationship happiness. Who would want me now?

I'll try to come up with something worthwhile to post next time. I apologize (if anyone reads this at all) for the self-pity party.

Suck it up

The Formal Period of Wallowing is now over. Life goes on...

I hope that someday I'll understand how this fits into the Big Picture. I hope it's worth all this.

More of the same

I've been miserable to be around; every other word out of my mouth is "fuck;" I was especially mean to the coworker from hell yesterday. I counted down the minutes until lunch time so I could get away from that place for an hour. I pulled into the Publix parking lot only to see a minivan with "Just Married" painted on the back window. I walked into the supermarket and Someone Saved My Life Tonight was playing on the Muzak; that line I love, "so save your strength and run the field you play alone," causes my eyes to fill up and I almost lose it right there in the meat aisle.

So I keep moving, to check out the markdown area, and there I see a shopping cart full of discounted wine. I didn't walk into the store thinking about alcohol, but there it was, and it was on sale. I forced myself past it, only to find another cartload on the other side of the store. Who would know? Who would care? I'm not going out of the house tonight. Nobody in this store knows I have a problem with it. I'm anonymous here. Why not? This is how easy it can be to throw years of sobriety out the window. In my case I'm just coming up on my first anniversary (April 24, after failing my drinking experiment last year), and I guess it's the thought of that that keeps me from doing it. I'd know, and I guess I still care about myself enough not to cheat on MY commitment to ME. I can't just go and get toasted every time I have a bad day. Or even a bad boyfriend.

I thought about it some more after I got home, so I took a shower and put on my jammies so it would be more trouble to leave the house. Bonnie called to see if I was ok. They tried to get me to come over, but I said I was already in my pjs and I needed a couple of days to myself anyway. I had my favorite Red Velvet Cake ice cream in the freezer, so I loaded up a bowl and had it for dinner. I still don't know that my sobriety is safe. I guess I'll have to be on high alert for awhile.

Regarding 04/03/07

It's actually a physical pain; it feels like they say a heart attack could feel. Like someone squeezing my heart in their fist, a pressure in the center of my chest that fills my whole chest. Not acute stubbed-toe or pulled-muscle kind of pain. It has its own feeling; an aching, hollowed out feeling throughout my whole upper body.

It's happened many times before, but it hasn't been this strong, this bad, in a very long time. I wonder again how I can feel like this and not die. How I can hurt like this and still live to allow someone else this power over me that will inevitably lead to another occurrence of this pain. I wonder if I take the rest of my antidepressants, will that make the hurt go away? Will I at least be able to die happy?

But I don't OD on anything. I don't get drunk. I just take an extra Tylenol p.m. so I can sleep through the night. Somehow I live through that first night, as I will the second, and then another until finally that pain recedes and I'm just living again. Just living.

And ultimately, ironically, I'll go LOOKING for the next person that I'll care about enough, the next person that will have the power to make me hurt like this again. Because if I don't I'm afraid I'll die on the inside, alone.

The face of an angel....

...the heart and soul of Dennis the Menace.

In a moment of what could only have been temporary insanity, I added a kitten to the menagerie a couple of months ago. I'd been toying with the idea for months, never too seriously, but since Pancho arrived, Felix (the incumbent cat) had been mostly ignored. Timmy and Felix got along from the very beginning. Felix loves dogs; I think he's secretly harboring the fantasy of actually becoming one (can you get a "species change" operation yet?). The two of them used to wrestle all the time. At first I worred that Felix would get hurt, but after watching a few of the matches, I realized that Timmy never played TOO hard, and Felix wasn't backing down, either.

Then Pancho came along and Timmy discovered he had a REAL playmate. A dog he could kick some serious butt with. Suddenly Felix became the redheaded stepchild. No longer the playmate of choice, reduced to "cat" status again. So I started thinking about a kitten again, this time a little more seriously, imagining myself perusing the kittens at the SPCA for just the right one. A buddy for Felix. The one that would stick his paw out of the cage and whack me on the shoulder; that would be THE one.

I belong to a local Freecycle Group (a Yahoo e-mail group), and there are occasionally pets up for grabs. I began noticing the cat offerings, and even responded to a couple of them. It occurred to me that it would be more noble to adopt a kitten BEFORE it ended up in the shelter. I always dragged my feet a little, hoping that maybe they had already found good homes before I wrote in. After all, I was really looking forward to that SPCA shopping spree. This strategy worked briefly. Then one day I saw this post for a six month old kitten:

"This girl is funny. She is very frisky and dear. I cannot keep due to allergies. Has carpeted stand, box, food and all shots up to date."

So I waited until much later, thinking that she would surely have a home already, then responded:

"Let me know if you have no takers...I'm looking for another cat, would have to have spunk and personality and not be a 'fraidy cat' as I have another cat and two small dogs. They all get along great, and I keep them all indoors except for when I'm home, then they can go outside into the back yard which is fenced (6 ft. stockade), so nobody escapes! If you have others interested, it's ok, consider them first...I'm not in any big hurry!"

A short while later I received this response:

"hi patty- i liked your email the best. she is a super spunky girl and makes me laugh. she is also very alpha and does bite a little. call me up- i'd like you to have her."

Aaaaaack! What happened to first come, first served? I thought that was the way this thing was supposed to work! What if she was afraid of her own shadow and would hide all day? What was I thinking, giving up my chance to choose the next kid myself?

Arrangements were made, directions given, and a few hours later I was heading home with a car full of cat stuff, and one very unhappy kitten named KC, who cried all the way home. When I looked at the paperwork, I discovered that the woman was actually the second owner. The first was some guy, the Einstein wannabe who named her "KC" (as in Kitty Cat). I desperately wanted to name her myself, but since she seemed to know her name already, I compromised by spelling it "KayCee."

After a couple of days of adjustment, her personality began to emerge. She was less afraid of the dogs than pissed off by them. I could tell she was thinking about what a sweet gig this would be if she could just off those dogs. She has the loudest motor I've ever heard, and an extremely outgoing personality. She set about trying to make nice with Felix right away. Felix wanted nothing to do with KayCee, but immediately claimed her scratching post as his own. He still sleeps on the top platform at night. They do play and get along pretty well most of the time.

She loves to tease the dogs, poking out of her "safe place" then ducking back into it when they come tearing after her. I try to keep her indoors, but occasionally she gets out. She's good at climbing trees, but not so good at getting back down. Pancho caught her off guard one morning and she ended up in the mango tree again. Once the dogs were penned up in the kitchen, she slid down a branch far enough so I could reach her and pluck her out of the tree.

Sometimes I wonder if KayCee is going to make it to adulthood! She had a near death experience last week, in that I almost killed her! She was in my bedroom, just hanging out, looking out the windows, being all cute and kitteny. I opened up my laptop and turned it on and left the room to go get a glass of iced tea. In the two minutes (max) that I was out of the room, she had picked 2 keys off of the keypad. I picked her up and yelled "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" AS IF it would help, fix it, or do anything but make her mad, which it did, so now I'm sporting a couple more scratches on my arm. With a pair of tweezers and a whole lot of patience (not my strong suit), I was able to reattach the kkkkkeys; I thiiiiiink they work ok now.

This morning I awoke around 4 to find her lying on my chest, purring. Things are settling down nicely. I thinkkkkk.