There have been a lot of times in the last 5 months where I have learned something entirely new about myself, some things good, some things not so good, but all stemming from the reality of my relationship with GC an it being my first relationship. Not my first "real" relationship or my first "grown up" relationship, (though it is both real and grown up), but my very first, nothing before it, no experience to draw from, not even a lame middle school relationship, relationship.
To say that I have been flying by the seat of my pants is an exception of massive proportions. I have no freakin' idea what I am doing most of the time. I have trusted fully in my gut, and 98% of the time, things between GC and I have evolved naturally and in a very positive direction. We have a blast when we're together, even if we're just watching TV or playing a game. He makes me laugh, and I like to think I make him laugh. And we care about each other, he doesn't mind just holding me for a while, and I love how he melts into a pool of released muscle tension and stress when I rub his head. He thinks about me when we're apart, remembering an off-hand comment I made about not being able to use hand sanitizing gels because it makes the eczema on my hands burn and going out of his way to find a natural, non-alcohol sanitizing spray. If that's not thoughtful I don't know what is. And I sure as heck think about him (it distracting, let me tell you).
So the other night when my feelings got hurt, I was unsure of how to respond. I became silent and walked away. He knew immediately that I was unhappy about something and followed me, realizing he'd hurt my feelings I think, and began apologizing. Though I accepted his apology and we talked about it a little, how I am more sensitive than I sometimes let on, yadda yadda, I never felt the issue was fully addressed. Things went back to normal, we went out that night and had a really good time, we hung out at his parents the next day, and I have enjoyed being with him, not feeling mad or really even all that hurt anymore, I got over the "ouch", so to speak.
But being the obsessive that I am, I have dwelt on why I had the reaction I did since Saturday, wondering how to fix it. I made a vow to myself when I got into this that I wasn't going to let a lack of communication be the cause of relationship downfall, especially since this has started off so well. I thought we could talk about it over a walk last night, but when he got tied up with his son Julius Ceasar (not his real name, obviously, but the name of his favorite book), I decided to write an email.
It wasn't an attack email, or an "I'm mad at you because you hurt me" email. It was just a "this is how I am feeling" email. I didn't ask for a long response, I even said that I didn't expect one, i just wanted him to know why it hurt so in the future, he's aware of my tender spots, the spots that when bruised have a pretty big impact.
I have never wanted to be the girl that is overly emotional, because honestly, I don't think I am. I have emotions of course, but as a rule they tend to be even keel and not easily excitable. I'm not dramatic and don't want to be that stereotypical girlfriend that is constantly wanting to discuss my "feelings". That said however, I also don't want to be the kind of person that buries hurt because it is not always easy to talk about. I'd rather just get it on the table and deal with it than have it fester and build into a resentment that is much harder to heal. So I wrote an email. An email might be lame, it might be a copout, and it might be contrary to all dating advice, but it's what I did. And I feel better for having done it.
I haven't heard back from him yet, and to say I'm not a little anxious about it would be a lie. I am anxious because this is the first time I have ever done this, told someone I cared about in this way how I am feeling. But I guess it is better than the alternative, continued dwelling. Cause man, dwelling is exhausting. And I would rather just get back to where we left off last night, even after all this happened, right at great. I always want it to be at great, even if "great" doesn't always mean easy. So I guess an email is a step in the right direction.
A written record of the scuffles, rants and revelations of a 20-something searcher.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
A message to my parents.... (who rock btw)
For all those times you think you really screwed up as a parent, (though I still consider those up for debate) I want you to know, I learned just as much as when your parenting was spot on. This is how I know:
Parenting Screw Up #1- Losing a Child in Woolworth's
Lesson Learned- it's a dual lesson really, the first lesson? hiding in cupboards in a crowded store is probably not the best place to play the hide and seek game only you know about, lesson two? It's important to love people to the point you fear losing them.
Parenting Screw Up #2- Fighting in Front of the Kids
Lesson Learned- People fight, it's part of life, it's how you deal with it that matters.
Parenting Screw Up #3- The big "D" word, Divorce
Lessons Learned- On the big issues, it's important to see eye to eye, on the little issues compromise is essential, and for everything else, communicate. Don't allow resentments to grow; if you feel hurt tell them , if you feel unappreciated, talk about it, if you need something more from the relationship, lay it all on the table. Forgive. Leave the past in the past. Don't be afraid to ask the hard questions early on, and make sure you're each other's number one supporter.
Parenting Screw Up #4- Working and Child Rearing
Lesson Learned- Ok, this is in no way a screw up, sometimes it's just necessary. But since you sometimes feel bad about it; working hard is an important part of life. Striving to improve yourself so you can be better for yourself and those around you keeps you ever evolving and never stagnant. Sometimes you don't want to go to work, but you have to anyway.
Parenting Screw Up #5- Bad Day Syndrome
Lesson Learned- Everyone has bad days. Waking up the next day and apologizing if necessary is ok too.
Ok, so hopefully my parents are not really annoyed that I shared some of what they might deem as parenting blunders, but I really don't see it that way. They know I'm not perfect and still love me. That's a two way street. I consider myself lucky every day for the two (incredibly different) parents that I have. Sure, they may not have always had all the answers, and they may have wanted to kill my sisters and I at times, but a day hasn't gone by where they didn't let us know we were loved. They loved us enough to set limits, to say yes and no, to show us all the amazing opportunities this world holds. They each loved us enough to be apart from us because no matter what, "the girls stay together", enough to make us do chores and earn our allowance, enough to sometimes take a step back and let us make our own decisions even if it meant we failed, they loved us enough to put aside their own differences for our happiness. Simply put they did a great job and I couldn't have chosen two better people to guide me through the first 24 years of my life, even if they are just a bunch of screw ups :)
Parenting Screw Up #1- Losing a Child in Woolworth's
Lesson Learned- it's a dual lesson really, the first lesson? hiding in cupboards in a crowded store is probably not the best place to play the hide and seek game only you know about, lesson two? It's important to love people to the point you fear losing them.
Parenting Screw Up #2- Fighting in Front of the Kids
Lesson Learned- People fight, it's part of life, it's how you deal with it that matters.
Parenting Screw Up #3- The big "D" word, Divorce
Lessons Learned- On the big issues, it's important to see eye to eye, on the little issues compromise is essential, and for everything else, communicate. Don't allow resentments to grow; if you feel hurt tell them , if you feel unappreciated, talk about it, if you need something more from the relationship, lay it all on the table. Forgive. Leave the past in the past. Don't be afraid to ask the hard questions early on, and make sure you're each other's number one supporter.
Parenting Screw Up #4- Working and Child Rearing
Lesson Learned- Ok, this is in no way a screw up, sometimes it's just necessary. But since you sometimes feel bad about it; working hard is an important part of life. Striving to improve yourself so you can be better for yourself and those around you keeps you ever evolving and never stagnant. Sometimes you don't want to go to work, but you have to anyway.
Parenting Screw Up #5- Bad Day Syndrome
Lesson Learned- Everyone has bad days. Waking up the next day and apologizing if necessary is ok too.
Ok, so hopefully my parents are not really annoyed that I shared some of what they might deem as parenting blunders, but I really don't see it that way. They know I'm not perfect and still love me. That's a two way street. I consider myself lucky every day for the two (incredibly different) parents that I have. Sure, they may not have always had all the answers, and they may have wanted to kill my sisters and I at times, but a day hasn't gone by where they didn't let us know we were loved. They loved us enough to set limits, to say yes and no, to show us all the amazing opportunities this world holds. They each loved us enough to be apart from us because no matter what, "the girls stay together", enough to make us do chores and earn our allowance, enough to sometimes take a step back and let us make our own decisions even if it meant we failed, they loved us enough to put aside their own differences for our happiness. Simply put they did a great job and I couldn't have chosen two better people to guide me through the first 24 years of my life, even if they are just a bunch of screw ups :)
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Reality Check 101
Work was non-stop yesterday, from the moment I walked in the door to the moment I left 50 minutes late. One call after another came flooding in, quote request after quote request turned into an additional 3 pages of "to do" list, contract overhauls filled my lunch hour, client meetings kept me from moving my car so I wouldn't get a ticket (thank God it was raining at the time), vendor dilemmas kept me fielding "Where are my postcards/folders/ads" calls from clients. And that's just the start.
After work was no different. I had plans to make a nice dinner for C-Po, GC, and my friend "Toonces Mama", and was already running an hour behind. I rushed to pick up my sister, shoved a grocery list in her hand, sped to the local Hannaford, went guns blazing through the produce section, searched in vain for coconut milk, finally being forced to succumb to the phone on the end of the "Family Planning" aisle for a little assistance (coconut milk can be found in the Mexican section in case you ever find yourself in a similar rushed predicament) and then raced toward the highway to begin the 25 minute trek home before launching into a vegetable chopping, spice mixing, rice and bean cooking, Caribbean Sweet Potato Gratin preparing frenzy.
Never one to really speed, despite being rushed (I'll just deal with being late... it's a condition far superior to being a smear on the highway) I came up to an intersection at a normal and reasonable speed. The cars were backed up and so instead of stopping next to the Mobil station, I came to a halt next to a funeral home- a very occupied and active funeral home. Streaming out of the doors toward cars parked beyond the parking lot and into the street were red-eyed, black attired folk, family and friends I suppose of some person whose time in this world had come to a close.
As I watched them file out, embracing then separating, and climb slowly into their cars, I understood. Someone was telling me to pause, to see the great blessing I was rushing toward- family, friends, people that I love who are alive and healthy and loving me back. People whose whole lives are before them, however long that ends up being and living in ways that I can only hope to aspire to; days filled with purpose and passion, minds blessed with the desire to be ever improving, souls conscious of the need to love, to pause, to be without fear of falling short in the race toward success.
It was a wonderful reality check. The potatoes might be late, they might not even end up tasting good, but not one of the those people in that room would think a thing less of me. Dinner could wait, it wasn't the point. All that surrounded it, was.
The meal ended up delicious and an hour and a half later than planned, but it was an evening just as it should have been, and I appreciated it from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, in a full-body fashion. I guess that's how joy feels sometimes, full-bodied and peaceful, and brimming with hope.
After work was no different. I had plans to make a nice dinner for C-Po, GC, and my friend "Toonces Mama", and was already running an hour behind. I rushed to pick up my sister, shoved a grocery list in her hand, sped to the local Hannaford, went guns blazing through the produce section, searched in vain for coconut milk, finally being forced to succumb to the phone on the end of the "Family Planning" aisle for a little assistance (coconut milk can be found in the Mexican section in case you ever find yourself in a similar rushed predicament) and then raced toward the highway to begin the 25 minute trek home before launching into a vegetable chopping, spice mixing, rice and bean cooking, Caribbean Sweet Potato Gratin preparing frenzy.
Never one to really speed, despite being rushed (I'll just deal with being late... it's a condition far superior to being a smear on the highway) I came up to an intersection at a normal and reasonable speed. The cars were backed up and so instead of stopping next to the Mobil station, I came to a halt next to a funeral home- a very occupied and active funeral home. Streaming out of the doors toward cars parked beyond the parking lot and into the street were red-eyed, black attired folk, family and friends I suppose of some person whose time in this world had come to a close.
As I watched them file out, embracing then separating, and climb slowly into their cars, I understood. Someone was telling me to pause, to see the great blessing I was rushing toward- family, friends, people that I love who are alive and healthy and loving me back. People whose whole lives are before them, however long that ends up being and living in ways that I can only hope to aspire to; days filled with purpose and passion, minds blessed with the desire to be ever improving, souls conscious of the need to love, to pause, to be without fear of falling short in the race toward success.
It was a wonderful reality check. The potatoes might be late, they might not even end up tasting good, but not one of the those people in that room would think a thing less of me. Dinner could wait, it wasn't the point. All that surrounded it, was.
The meal ended up delicious and an hour and a half later than planned, but it was an evening just as it should have been, and I appreciated it from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, in a full-body fashion. I guess that's how joy feels sometimes, full-bodied and peaceful, and brimming with hope.
Monday, June 16, 2008
A great day...
Father's Day started bright and early yesterday morning. The night before was spent in broken sleep tending to the hiking wounds of GC. Did I mention GC is three hikes away from being a 46er? Oh, no? How could I have let it slip my mind? So yeah, my guy is an Adirondack Hiker extraordinaire, he's hiked almost all 46 of the Adirondack High Peaks. If you're thinking, "Wow, that sounds like an accomplishment," you're right. It's pretty freakin hot too.
Anyway, along with doing three peaks in one day, 19 miles total, he was attacked by swarms of black flies. His arms at the moment, render him a freak with dozens and dozens of enormous black fly welts spreading from elbow to fingertip. For anyone who has ever experienced a black fly bite, you know that one is bad enough, he had so many bites he was feeling physically ill from all the venom in his system. What could I do but help tend his wounds?
So he got a back rub and lots of "I feel really sorry for you" looks. By Sunday morning we determined the best course of action was cold compresses. Starting around 7:00 am I was heading back and forth from the kitchen with ice cubes and washcloths to dull the pain. Sadly, I had to leave around 9:00 to get ready for brunch with my father and sister for Father's Day. As I was getting ready to go, he looked at me with these great big, sad eyes and said in a pathetically dramatic invalid voice, "Your dad and sister couldn't possibly need you more than I do right now," followed very quickly with a grin than spread from ear to ear. He is so easily amused with himself. I rolled my eyes, and smiled at the same time. What a punk.
After tending to the "invalid", I headed North to visit with the man of the hour, my dad, and my little sister C-po. We had a great brunch at a local favorite, where to my delight, the vegetarian omelet was not the size of my entire torso and dripping with an excess of greasy cheese. It was moderately proportioned with only enough cheesy goodness to fill the eggs and veggies out a bit. We chatted and gave gifts and enjoyed each other's company in the beautiful New York in June morning. It was a moment I'll remember, for sure.
Post brunch, we headed to the lake where my sister had to work a bit later. We walked along the shore, and stopped into the touristy shops we usually drive by. I dipped my toes in and felt the cool wonder of a glacier lake on a hot day. Delicious. So inspired by the cool water I called up GC and we made plans to come back later in the day for some beach time.
Not a fan of the large crowded beach on the main drag, I have over the years, found some smaller ones to frequent. After going home to grab a suit and my man, we headed back North to the lake and spent three lovely hours chatting on the warm sand and taking dips in the clear-beyond-belief water that proved muy soothing to GC's arms.
We followed it up with a trip to visit my sister at work where she provided us with cold beer, and grilled cheese and fried clams respectively, not to mention the sides of sweet potato fries. Mmmmm.... And then we went home. We talked about some big topics on the ride, but for some reason we both seem to handle the tougher questions pretty easily, despite not always agreeing. It bodes well for future potential disagreements.
And that was the day. Nothing too crazy or out of the ordinary, but lovely in that I spent it with some of my favorite people. What more could you ask for really than a beautiful day, people to care about, and lake. Yes, a good day, a very good day.
Anyway, along with doing three peaks in one day, 19 miles total, he was attacked by swarms of black flies. His arms at the moment, render him a freak with dozens and dozens of enormous black fly welts spreading from elbow to fingertip. For anyone who has ever experienced a black fly bite, you know that one is bad enough, he had so many bites he was feeling physically ill from all the venom in his system. What could I do but help tend his wounds?
So he got a back rub and lots of "I feel really sorry for you" looks. By Sunday morning we determined the best course of action was cold compresses. Starting around 7:00 am I was heading back and forth from the kitchen with ice cubes and washcloths to dull the pain. Sadly, I had to leave around 9:00 to get ready for brunch with my father and sister for Father's Day. As I was getting ready to go, he looked at me with these great big, sad eyes and said in a pathetically dramatic invalid voice, "Your dad and sister couldn't possibly need you more than I do right now," followed very quickly with a grin than spread from ear to ear. He is so easily amused with himself. I rolled my eyes, and smiled at the same time. What a punk.
After tending to the "invalid", I headed North to visit with the man of the hour, my dad, and my little sister C-po. We had a great brunch at a local favorite, where to my delight, the vegetarian omelet was not the size of my entire torso and dripping with an excess of greasy cheese. It was moderately proportioned with only enough cheesy goodness to fill the eggs and veggies out a bit. We chatted and gave gifts and enjoyed each other's company in the beautiful New York in June morning. It was a moment I'll remember, for sure.
Post brunch, we headed to the lake where my sister had to work a bit later. We walked along the shore, and stopped into the touristy shops we usually drive by. I dipped my toes in and felt the cool wonder of a glacier lake on a hot day. Delicious. So inspired by the cool water I called up GC and we made plans to come back later in the day for some beach time.
Not a fan of the large crowded beach on the main drag, I have over the years, found some smaller ones to frequent. After going home to grab a suit and my man, we headed back North to the lake and spent three lovely hours chatting on the warm sand and taking dips in the clear-beyond-belief water that proved muy soothing to GC's arms.
We followed it up with a trip to visit my sister at work where she provided us with cold beer, and grilled cheese and fried clams respectively, not to mention the sides of sweet potato fries. Mmmmm.... And then we went home. We talked about some big topics on the ride, but for some reason we both seem to handle the tougher questions pretty easily, despite not always agreeing. It bodes well for future potential disagreements.
And that was the day. Nothing too crazy or out of the ordinary, but lovely in that I spent it with some of my favorite people. What more could you ask for really than a beautiful day, people to care about, and lake. Yes, a good day, a very good day.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Tell me I'm great.
Has this ever happened to you? One day your scooting along in your daily existence, going from one busy activity to the next, not noticing the patterns you've slipped into, when POW! you suddenly realize something about yourself that you're not all that thrilled with? This happened to me yesterday.
What did I discover you ask? I noticed that instead of encouraging myself and believing in my abilities, I instead constantly question whether or not I am good enough or capable enough. Then, to cope with my "down on myself" mentality I seek the adamant responses of friends and family to negate the self-deprecating comments I frequently make.
The real kicker is, somewhere, way deep down, I know I have a lot of talents, and given my past record, tend more toward success and happiness than failure and misery. But it's almost as if I can't believe I'm good enough until it comes from the mouths of others. Messed up, I know.
So now I am on a mission. Instead of putting myself down and not believing I can be successful, I am going to go after the things I want, even if I am completely uncertain of the outcome. All those visions in my head of a glorious Trinabags boutique? I am going to believe they can come true, from the displays and store front, to the wall murals and back room workshop. For every time I feel my bags are not up to snuff and I begin noticing each "obvious" flaw, instead of losing confidence in my product, I am going encourage myself to learn more so I can grow in my trade. Simply put, I am pulling an engine that could, "I think I can I think I can".
And I to go along with that, I am going to be true to what I want, not what everyone around me wants, despite their best intentions for my success. I don't want to be another Vera Bradley where every college girl and her mother are carrying my bags, I don't want to be a Coach, or a Burberry, I don't want Saks 5th Ave, or Neiman Marcus. I want one small shop, maybe two, where I am always busy, making bags for people I can see face to face, with an online shop for those face to face people's sisters. I want a shop where I have the freedom to close one day a week if I want to, a shop where I can bring my kids to work with me someday, a shop where I make the decision to give away a good chunk of the profits because I think it's right without answering to anyone else, a shop that is smallish, and all mine.
I have never wanted to be big and famous. It's not me, and it never will be. I prefer a more subtle existence that allows me to keep my priorities straight, and money (beyond what I need to live a comfortable life where I am not constantly worried about making all my monthly payments, with a little spending money for a trip or two abroad each year :)) will never be one of them. The enjoyment of what I do, the ability to spend time, real time, with the people I love, and the chance to take in all that life has to offer, which for me includes sitting on a porch with some lemonade, not feeling like I have to be somewhere else, making deals, pretty much sums it up.
Now with my new perspective, I can make it happen. As the GC says, I'm Trina, I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. Damn Straight :)
What did I discover you ask? I noticed that instead of encouraging myself and believing in my abilities, I instead constantly question whether or not I am good enough or capable enough. Then, to cope with my "down on myself" mentality I seek the adamant responses of friends and family to negate the self-deprecating comments I frequently make.
The real kicker is, somewhere, way deep down, I know I have a lot of talents, and given my past record, tend more toward success and happiness than failure and misery. But it's almost as if I can't believe I'm good enough until it comes from the mouths of others. Messed up, I know.
So now I am on a mission. Instead of putting myself down and not believing I can be successful, I am going to go after the things I want, even if I am completely uncertain of the outcome. All those visions in my head of a glorious Trinabags boutique? I am going to believe they can come true, from the displays and store front, to the wall murals and back room workshop. For every time I feel my bags are not up to snuff and I begin noticing each "obvious" flaw, instead of losing confidence in my product, I am going encourage myself to learn more so I can grow in my trade. Simply put, I am pulling an engine that could, "I think I can I think I can".
And I to go along with that, I am going to be true to what I want, not what everyone around me wants, despite their best intentions for my success. I don't want to be another Vera Bradley where every college girl and her mother are carrying my bags, I don't want to be a Coach, or a Burberry, I don't want Saks 5th Ave, or Neiman Marcus. I want one small shop, maybe two, where I am always busy, making bags for people I can see face to face, with an online shop for those face to face people's sisters. I want a shop where I have the freedom to close one day a week if I want to, a shop where I can bring my kids to work with me someday, a shop where I make the decision to give away a good chunk of the profits because I think it's right without answering to anyone else, a shop that is smallish, and all mine.
I have never wanted to be big and famous. It's not me, and it never will be. I prefer a more subtle existence that allows me to keep my priorities straight, and money (beyond what I need to live a comfortable life where I am not constantly worried about making all my monthly payments, with a little spending money for a trip or two abroad each year :)) will never be one of them. The enjoyment of what I do, the ability to spend time, real time, with the people I love, and the chance to take in all that life has to offer, which for me includes sitting on a porch with some lemonade, not feeling like I have to be somewhere else, making deals, pretty much sums it up.
Now with my new perspective, I can make it happen. As the GC says, I'm Trina, I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. Damn Straight :)
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Time
Yesterday morning, as I sat waiting for friends on my front steps, I happened to look across the street to where an enormous maple tree stood heavy with leaves and history. As the wind blew my hair and cooled the hotness of my face from the arrival of summer's first 90+ day, the movement of the tree struck me. It swayed so softly in the warm breeze, that though I was across the street, I felt I could reach out and touch the greenness of its leaves. If I did, the memories of childhood summers spent in the branches of maples would rush back to me. I would sense the smoothness of the bark under my bare feet, the flexing of arm muscles as I pulled myself ever higher. I became lost in the sway. The rustle of leaves became like a song, and slowly pulled me toward sleep even as cars drove past.
The arrival of my friends and our Farmers Market destination woke me from my daydream, but not before the impact had been fully felt. It could not have been more than 5 minutes of uninterrupted daydream, but its healing has lasted even as I write this. It is not often enough that I simply sit and allow a beautiful thing to touch my soul. I am too easily lost in the "have to's" and "need to's". I forget the essential pause. The moment of reflection. The enjoyment of a simple and completely free experience. There were no worries of how I was going to pay this month's rent, or the constant prayer that nothing would happen to my car today. I wasn't worried about a strategic plan to become debt free or whether or not I could afford to by the hypo-allergenic, name-brand lotion this week. I just was. And it was wonderful.
The arrival of my friends and our Farmers Market destination woke me from my daydream, but not before the impact had been fully felt. It could not have been more than 5 minutes of uninterrupted daydream, but its healing has lasted even as I write this. It is not often enough that I simply sit and allow a beautiful thing to touch my soul. I am too easily lost in the "have to's" and "need to's". I forget the essential pause. The moment of reflection. The enjoyment of a simple and completely free experience. There were no worries of how I was going to pay this month's rent, or the constant prayer that nothing would happen to my car today. I wasn't worried about a strategic plan to become debt free or whether or not I could afford to by the hypo-allergenic, name-brand lotion this week. I just was. And it was wonderful.
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