Archive for Navel gazing

because this broken road prepares your will for me

Over the weekend I watched Eat Pray Love.  I gotta say, I didn’t love it.

But it was okay.  I didn’t have to fast-forward through any of it at least and I did get one good line out of it:

Ruin is a gift.  Ruin is the road to transformation.

I’ve felt that way before.  Almost seven years ago, to be exact (or approximate, whatever).  When I was dumped by the first boy I really thought I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. 

But then I met Paul a few months later.  And suddenly everything made sense, not just having my heart broken by the ex, but everything before that too.  And everything in between.  All the bad, sometimes abusive relationships, all the things in college I only WISH I could forget, every stupid boy I’ve ever met…existed for a reason. 

Ruin is a gift.

I’m trying to remember that now.

changing the subject

Walked into the office all bleary-eyed at 4:45am today and everyone was fixated on the TV screens (no, I’m not even close to being the first one in even at that hour) which were all showing the tsunami in Japan.  So unbelievably awful.  Definitely woke me up seeing all that. 

We did get a note from our Tokyo desk saying that all in all they felt the country was extremely well-prepared and that all the preparation had paid off.   They even said that much of the country was already back up and running as usual.  I have to say I was pretty impressed with the way The Company dealt with certain things today, namely alerting the entire West Coast staff via email/phone/text msg about the tsunami warning very early on.  Of course, they didn’t tell us to go home…haha.  It was kind of crazy when EVERYONE’S phones started ringing at once, sort of like one of those movies where the President’s staff is all out hanging out somewhere and suddenly everyone’s phones start going off and you know the fit has hit the shan.  Of course, nothing ever materialized.

And to be honest from our vantage point of the bay (from an upper floor of one of the city’s tallest buildings) it didn’t even really look the waves were any bigger than normal here.

But still…does anyone else feel like the world is ending right before our eyes?

Prayers to Japan.  And also, congrats on a job well done.  I doubt there’s another country in the world, including the US, that could absorb a ginormous earthquake AND a tsunami as well as Japan has.

inertia

This won’t be long as I didn’t flake out on my tutoring obligation this week like I did last week (bad, bad, bad, I know).

Just wanted to share this while I remember…

And don’t worry, I’ll give you full color on the genesis of this conversation later on…

But the gist of it is this, as usual, I freeze in the midst of major life changes while my husband charges forward into them headfirst.  I guess that’s why we work so well.

Last night I told Paul that one possible negative regarding adopting from South Korea is that the timelines are actually relatively quick.  I read that the average wait-time is 5-10months, which sounds awfully short compared to other programs I’ve read about.  Even though I know that adoption is unpredictable and things can move faster or slower than you expect, in my head I’ve always imagined the “gestation period” (if you will) would be ~2yrs and that this would be the amount of time I would have to mentally prepare for my whole world turning upside down (in a good way). 

So the thought of 5-10months was strangely disconcerting to me.  And because SK is not my first choice but it is Paul’s, I thought, Aha!  I’m going to bring up this accelerated timeline as a negative for this program, since I’m pretty sure he is not ready to be a daddy in five months! 

Except when I told him about this “problem” he looked me in the eye and said, “Isn’t that good?”

To which I replied, “HUH?!” and looked at him as though he had grown a third eye. 

And then I asked him if he could REALLY imagine a two year old running around our quiet, clean home in five months. 

Like seriously boo, think about it.  

And he said yes.

I have to be honest.  I’m not quite there.

More later…

hot mess, oh yes.

I can’t believe I’ve let another two weeks pass since my last post. 

Actually, I haven’t “let” it at all. 

I’ve struggled to find something to say.  To find the right words to explain that even though on the surface everything appears to be same old, same old, I’m a mess.  (Okay, so maybe everything is same old, same old.)

I feel so stuck.  I know I need to move forward but I’m just not sure how to do that right now.

I wonder if I could explain how many separate thoughts I have about the same fucking topic, if somehow everything would just make more sense?  To me, I mean.

And yes, I know, that makes no sense at all.

Some of the random shit going through my head right now for example…

*** I find myself removing IF blogs from my reader once the blogger gets pregnant.  I have a hard time with them because I’m just not there and there are enough pregnancies/parents around me that I’m actually invested in (i.e. good friends/family) that I don’t feel the need to follow the pregnancy of someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a total stranger.  I torture myself more than enough without that.  At the same time, I find it’s also difficult to read the posts by women who feel they have come to a point where they have to accept that they will never be mothers.  Those are hard to read because I’m so fucking afraid that that will be me someday.  That all hope will be lost and I’ll have to simply accept that I will never experience that part of life that we are instinctually built to want.  (After all that is the purpose of sex right?  And we know we all want THAT so…)  I still force myself to read those blogs though.  I can’t stop myself.  What does that say?

*** I think I’m depressed.  I know you’re probably thinking that, that’s not news.  I tend to write here mainly when I’m upset, so it probably seems like there are no ups and downs, but I really was starting to feel better after the holidays had passed.  I was starting to eat and sleep better, I started exercising, my energy levels were feeling pretty good…after that doctor appointment though…I feel like I kind of just gave up.  It didn’t help that it coincided with that nightmare daytrip to LA (which turned into a late-night trip) so I don’t honestly know what it is, but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling of exhaustion since around that time.  One night I got six straight hours of sleep and then fell right back asleep for another solid hour and a half and I still woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all.  (Normally I don’t sleep for more than three hours without at least waking up briefly.)  So I’m actually sleeping relatively better than normal but I feel tired all the time anyway.  I’m not really eating again.  And also not exercising.  My joints hurt.  I’m tired.  It’s cold.  Blah, blah, blah.

*** It bothers me.  This feeling of isolation.  Of so few people really knowing what this feels like.  Sometimes I imagine myself standing in the middle of an empty field, screaming at the top of my lungs.  Even in my head, it feels so…liberating.  Honest.  Does this make me (sound) crazy?  I do understand, though, why people can’t know.  People get pregnant on accident every day.  It is supposed to be easy.  It’s how the human race has managed to survive this long, isn’t it?  That also makes me want to scream.

*** I told Paul the other day that I have been struggling with wondering whether or not God really always has a plan.  See, I’m not questioning whether or not God exists, I still believe wholeheartedly that He does, but I am starting to think maybe He isn’t watching everything as closely as we’d like to believe.  I don’t know.  I can’t say I’m sure of that either, though.  It’s just that when you very badly want to be able to carry your husband’s child after spending your life doing most things “right” (i.e. finishing high school, undergrad & grad school, getting married to a good man, getting into a good company & career path, buying a home big enough to “grow” into) it feels like there must not be anyone paying attention when there are babies being aborted every day.  Or babies that are born and abused or killed.  I mean, really?  I would be  a worse parent than the people who are doing those things?  Challenge.  Sometimes life just sucks and isn’t fair, and maybe God doesn’t have to have a hand in that?  Except, I don’t know that I find that to be a comforting thought either.  I’ve always found it comforting to know that whatever was happening and how bad it sucked that there must be a reason for it all in the end.  I’m not sure I feel that way anymore and I feel lost without it. 

*** Christians will often pray to be “broken.”  (Don’t think I really hear it used much outside of that context?)  It’s the only way I can think of to describe how I’m feeling, but I don’t really mean it that way either.  I just sort of feel plain old broken.  Broken inside.  Physically, mentally.  And probably, let’s face it, spiritually too.  Sometimes I fixate on that word.  Broken.  As though there’s a little devil sitting on my shoulder, whispering the word into my ear to make sure I don’t forget I am broken.   Where’s the angel?

*** Sometimes when I hear people discuss how physically difficult pregnancy is, I am painfully aware of how I have had almost every single “awful” symptom of a typical pregnancy (and perhaps even of a lot of the difficult ones) and I didn’t even get a bundle of joy to bring home at the end of it.  Based on the amount of swelling and water retention during the last two flares, I feel I am owed at least two already.  Gaining 30lbs, nausea, anemia (= exhaustion), feet so swollen they don’t fit in your shoes, aching lower back (not to mention pretty much any joint you can imagine and some that you probably don’t know can ache like the one in your chest), high blood pressure, leaky kidneys…am I missing anything?  I mean that sincerely, I’m not saying it to be snarky, it’s just that between the side effects from the meds and the lupus itself, I’ve experienced a lot of crappy pregnancy-like symptoms.  And I do agree that they suck.  But it sucks even worse to have nothing to show for it at the end.   

Clearly I could keep this going forever, such is the state of mind I’ve been in since my doctor had his poorly thought out adoption talk with me.  But I think you get the point.  This is why I’ve been so quiet.  Because there is no continuity to me at all right now.  In fact I’m kind of liking the stars, hmm….

Anyway, time to go pick up the husband as he is pretty much my last lifeline to sanity.  Or something like it.

smart people, stupid words

I’ve started so many posts this past week in an attempt to wipe the last one from the top of this blog and my memory.  And yet, I haven’t finished a single one and last Friday still weighs on me.

My thoughts are such a jumbled mess though, I don’t really know where to begin.

Truthfully, my week was exhausting enough on its own, but I’ll save that bitchfest for later (in fact, it’s one of the half-written posts mentioned above).

I will say this though, the way I feel seems to change from day-to-day, hour-to-hour, even minute-to-minute sometimes.  I vacillate between these moments of peace and clarity, and other moments filled with things like gut-wrenching hopelessness and despair.  Unfortunately the peaceful moments are fragile ones, whereas despair is not shy about settling in and making itself at home.

I think it’s because the peaceful moments are coming from a place inside my thought process that I’m still not really sure of.  The best analogy I can think of is a work-related one so I don’t know if it’s really all that good or if it will make sense, but basically it’s as though I’ve built a model to analyze securities and I’ve run a certain security through it and, based on my model, the security seems to be a good buy.  The problem is, I’m not confident in my model. 

Translation?  The only thing that makes me feel better is believing that we will still find our baby through adoption.  When I can believe that that is the reason for all of this pain right now, i.e. because God wants for us to meet our child(ren) on this unique path meant just for us.  My heart does start to heal when I imagine that adoption will be our saving grace in the midst of this. 

But I’m afraid.  Afraid that my model is broken, afraid that my health issues will fuck us once again and prevent us from doing the ONE AND ONLY thing that makes me feel like I should bother continuing to put one foot in front of the other most of the time. 

So oftentimes, my moments of peace of clarity are interrupted by a tumble into despair as I start to imagine that we will be rejected by every program because of my health issues and we will never be parents and I’m just really not ready to imagine that possibility yet without becoming mildly suicidal.  That is kind of the exact thought-process it turns into every. single. fucking. time.

My doctor (who is not an expert on adoption or reproduction)  has assured me he doesn’t think it should cause any problems and that he is more than happy to write whatever he needs to to certify that my health issues do not prevent me from being a successful parent, except that I’ve been advised not to get pregnant.  The reason I mentioned that he is not an expert on reproduction is because when he brought up adoption last Friday, he also threw out egg donation (actually he said, “You may want to start looking into alternatives, adoption, egg donation, and a whole bunch of other kinds of things they can do nowadays.”) which confused me because as far as anyone knows there is nothing wrong with my eggs.  I guess it’s not really that relevant, but just something that’s been bugging me and reminding me once again that doctors don’t know everything (or much of anything really) about the human body either. 

I didn’t really go into much detail in the last post about the specifics of the conversation, but something else that really kind of irked me was that my doctor kept bringing up China adoption (“People are bringing home tons of babies from China these days, and you’re already Chinese so it’ll probably be easier!”).  By the way, my doctor is not the total asshole this particular conversation makes him out to be, he’s clearly just really bad at discussing this sort of thing and much better at discussing things related to my test results, this is basically what I was talking about in this post about the specialist in TM2.  This is the same doctor who gave me his personal cell phone number last summer when I flared and even told me I could call him on vacation if I couldn’t get ahold of my other doctor or the on-call doctor, so I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me and actually cares for me quite a bit. 

Still though, this conversation was completely asinine.  

Especially because I already knew we wouldn’t meet the requirements for China adoption.  I actually thought it was because I was briefly on anti-depressants in college, but I just looked it up and it sounds like that wouldn’t be material since it was over two years ago, BUT the requirements do specifically rule out people with “severe diseases which requires long term treatment and which affect life expectancy, like malignant tumor, lupus erythematosus, nephrosis, epilepsy, and etc.”

I’m sure my doctor would argue that in my case there is no indication (at this point) that it should affect my life expectancy, but I’m pretty sure it’s a Very Bad Sign when they use four conditions as examples of what not to have and you have (or have had, since I am not currently leaking anywhere near enough protein to qualify as nephrotic) two of those four examples.  Which only further goes to show that he should have left it at, “Maybe you should start considering adoption.”  and left the details up to us as opposed to trying to give “helpful” suggestions on a subject he’s clearly ignorant about.

Anyway, most of the other country requirements I’ve seen are more vague (like “no serious medical conditions”) but I can see how it will probably be an uphill battle if we choose to go the path of international adoption.  In third-world countries someone with lupus probably can’t live and function normally.  So I can see how it would be hard for them to change their mind-set towards this condition even knowing that in the US we have access to a level of care that is unimaginable in vast swaths of the world.   

This depresses me to no end because for awhile now I’ve had my heart set on adopting from a small chain of Eastern Caribbean islands.  It may sound completely out of left field, but I stumbled on an adoption story, call it a year ago, which sparked my curiousity and when I looked into it, it sounded like such a straightforward program that I’m surprised it isn’t more popular what with all the issues popping up in other countries (with the UN getting involved, etc.).  I get that this is probably because it’s not quite as easy or great as the available information makes it seem, but I choose to believe that it must be a diamond in the rough.  Because sometimes it’s just healthier to hang onto your delusions. 

Which is probably why I’ve been too afraid to actually email the agency for more information.  Because I’m afraid it will only be the first step in a long, drawn-out process, at the end of which could be nothing more than a door slammed shut in my face.  I’m trying to be realistic and not get my hopes up, but at some point I have to remind myself that even if I do have my heart-broken, I have to at least try because at the end of the road there is still the possibility of a baby.  My baby.

And if I’m going to be any kind of parent at all, the least I can do is send one email right?

At the same time, I am opening myself to the idea of domestic adoption where I think we’ll have an easier time making the case that my condition is clearly not affecting my ability to function at a pretty high level (see: demanding/stressful job for the past four years with serious health issues mainly only occuring when attempting to stop meds).  However, domestic adoption brings up its own host of fears, not the least of which are the reasons I wasn’t too keen on adopting domestically in the first place.  For one, Paul is very open to adopting but he is very against the idea of open adoption.  I can usually convince my husband to my point of view when it comes to things like this because he knows how important this is to my happiness, but I really don’t want to have to do any convincing when it comes to this.  It’s just too important to risk talking him into something he discovers he isn’t comfortable with later on, so I’m not pushing it (only giving him my thoughts on the potential benefits of an open adoption).  I know this is going to drastically limit the number of birth mothers who will even consider us and the fact that we are Asian-American is not going to do us any favors either. 

I’m hoping that if we do end up really digging into domestic adoption, Paul will start to appreciate the benefits of an open adoption (e.g. family medical history, possibly less emotional issues for the child, possibly being able to be involved in the pregnancy, etc), but there are no guarantees and I’m thinking if he doesn’t change his mind we could be waiting for a very long time.  Maybe forever.

On my end, there are a lot of fears surrounding the potential for being scammed when it comes to domestic adoption, particularly if you do get involved during the pregnancy stage.  Also the benefit of having your baby from the first few days of his/her life is tempered by the fact that you can’t be sure the birth mother won’t change her mind until after the papers have been signed.  While I have heard of international adoption stories where this has happened, it seems like it’s less common because in most cases the children have already been abandoned or there is really no possible way the birth mother can raise the child no matter how much she may want to (which brings up a whole other can of worms about the many sides of adoption that people who don’t seriously think about adopting probably never consider). 

I just don’t think I have the stomach to be jerked around like that for very long and it seems to be a common problem for people who opt for domestic adoption.

Again though, I think if it comes down to it, I’ll just have to suck it up because I’ll do whatever I have to (within the confines of the law, of course).  

If we do end up adopting, I don’t think we could live in a better place than here in San Francisco.  I think the chances are good that we will have an obviously interracial family, given that the plan is to pursue either Carribean or domestic adoption (although, Taiwan and South Korea are not out of the question either) and if it’s not acceptable here, then it’s probably not acceptable anywhere in the US yet.  When I daydream about our future family, I usually don’t picture all of our children as being the same race, and I’m totally okay with it.  In fact, I’m probably not supposed to admit this, but I actually kind of prefer it.  No one’s going to mistake us for your average traditional family!

Although I’m sure the novelty will wear off, we WILL be just like every other family (which is a good thing!) and I’ll be irritated by the constant inflow of ignorant comments made by the non-adoptive community at large.

Another issue is that Paul and I don’t totally agree on how important it is to emphasis birth culture.  We both agree that no matter what we will do our best to teach our kids Chinese (even if neither of us are 100% fluent), but still it seems important for them to at least get the foundations when they’re young.  Beyond the possible future advantages of being able to speak the language of the country with the largest populace in the world, our kids are obviously going to be raised in an Asian-American family and we both want to share with them what culture we can.  However, I feel like it’s important to, from a young age, encourage them to learn about their birth culture as well.  For example, the country I currently have in mind is an English-speaking one, but when I looked into the Haiti program, I was thinking it could be good that I can speak a tiny bit of French because I thought it might come in handy if I needed to try and learn some basic Haitian Creole.  Paul on the other hand, was like, Why would you need to learn that?  We’ll just teach them English.  Whereas in my mind, it was a no-brainer that we would do what we could to keep them familiar with their native language, Paul just didn’t (and still doesn’t) see the need. 

I think no matter how liberal it is where we live, there will be unavoidable moments in the future when some idiot says something stupid in front of my child.  As much as I will probably want to punch said idiots in those moments, I hope that my kid is secure enough in who they are to move on emotionally unscathed for the most part.  I tend to think that the only way this will happen is if they see that we as their parents are interested and proud of their racial heritage by familiarizing ourselves with their birth culture while we are introducing them to ours.   Paul tends to think we shouldn’t be highlighting their differences from us at all because we will be making them feel excluded and different.  I think his heart is in the right place, but disagree with his logic.

So there it is.  Something.  Some of that jumble I mentioned way back at the beginning. 

Oh and just a word of advice.  Don’t ever tell someone who wants to have kids and can’t that they should “look into adoption” “just adopt” and in fact just avoid the word adopt altogether. 

Fucking duh.

Do you really expect the reaction to be, “Oh really?  Do pray tell me more about this uh-dop-shun you speak of as I have never in my life heard of it before and it could be an interesting solution to my problems that I had never considered!” 

No?

I think I would have found the whole conversation much less disturbing and upsetting if he had simply said, “I’m afraid your health will never allow for you to safely carry to term.” 

I totally would have come to the obvious conclusion on my own.  In fact, I have.

But I don’t know, maybe it was a good thing since it has forced me to realize that I need to start actively pursuing adoption if that’s what the option is for now.  I have to get over this paranoia that another dream of parenthood will be revealed as a baseless pipe dream and just say…here goes…

yes, i watch desperate housewives

“But sadly, there will always be those who can’t begin to heal. Because they realize there is more pain yet to come.”

“Now kids, when your friends have great news, you’re happy for them. For like a millisecond. And then you start thinking about yourself.” – Ted

This week has forced me to admit that all these pregnancies/births/adorable baby stories/actual babies…they are starting to hurt.

A lot.

But, as ten years of blogging has clearly established (and yes, it’ll be ten years this month but that’s another post), I am an emotional cutter.  So of course I have to hear every single one of these stories, seek out every picture I can get my hands on and coo over every adorable baby that crosses my line of sight.

It’s like I love hearing about this stuff because it’s so freakin’ cute and I just love hearing about kids…but it also kind of feels like someone is pushing needles into my soul everytime I hear about the most adorable thing someone else’s child did. 

Because I can’t help but think.  Not mine.  Maybe never mine.

And this shiver just goes through me and my throat closes up and sometimes my heart literally aches. 

I can’t explain it.  And I’m ashamed that such a wonderful thing could possibly make me feel this way.

It’s not that I’m not overjoyed for other people.  I am.  I see the joy in their faces, hear it in their voices…almost everyone I work with is a devoted and doting father (despite the stereotype of the absent Wall Street father, finance on the West Coast tends to be a pretty different animal)…which is awesome and actually part of the reason I love working with them so much…but recently it has been hard to listen to a lot of the conversations. 

I know some people without kids get offended when people with children talk about how their lives and perspectives completely changed after their kids were born.  I don’t.  I get it. 

They don’t even have to say it.  Like I said, it’s just there.  In the way people talk about their children.  As though they are talking about unicorns that shit diamonds or something.  You can’t really express that kind of sentiment verbally, it tends to come through non-verbal cues like the giant grin that breaks out everytime they mention their kids. 

I don’t begrudge them that life changing happiness, it makes me happy to see parents loving their children like crazy, I just want in that fucking club.  I want my life to change.  I want my priorities rearranged.  

I want to know what it’s like too.

One of my coworker’s wife had their first baby this week and it has been especially difficult listening to the chatter about how happy people are for him.  Hearing them recount their own stories of rushing off to the hospital, the amazement of being a parent for the first time…all these experiences that I want so desperately to have and I guess the aching comes from knowing this may never be in the cards for me.  It’s weird, because I am really happy for him (he has been wanting her to pop one out since before they got married two years ago, even though he’s only thirty) and they are going to be great parents.  I don’t feel envious of them, I don’t feel anything towards them except happy.  But I can’t deny that it makes something about me feels a little bit more broken when I hear these things.  

(Sounds like a personal problem, I know.)

The other day, I asked Paul if he could really imagine our lives with children.   Because, I said, sometimes I can’t imagine what it would be like to insert a baby into our peaceful, stable little lives.  He didn’t hesitate for one second, he said of course he could picture it.

Just another sign of what I already knew.  My husband is there.  He’s ready.  Now we really are just waiting for me.

It’s also hard because we’re getting to an age and point in our marriage (4yrs this July or 5yrs this June depending how you count it) where people feel comfortable questioning us on when the little ones will be coming along.  I can’t get upset over them asking because I do it to other young couples too.  It’s the natural progression of life right?  You grow up, get married, have babies.  The end.

Mostly, I just lie.  I give people the “we’re still young” line and people accept it, because I guess by today’s standards we are.  The truth makes people uncomfortable, and it’s complicated with me not wanting people to think of me as being “sick.” 

Recently, though, I’ve started sharing a little bit with certain people.  I think it’s just becoming too much to hold it in all the time.

My mom talks about it with all my relatives (and probably all of her friends too, but oh well, that’s just my mom) and then she tells me their reactions.  Apparently when she told a couple of my aunts that Paul and I are seriously considering adoption, their reaction was “Why don’t they just not have kids, they’re so much work anyway.”

Which, okay, I get.  My aunts love me and they are both going through struggles with every single one of the four (adult) children that they have between the two of them.  I see where they are coming from.  And to be fair, they have never been so insensitive as to say it in front of me, only to my mother, though I’ve never discussed having kids with them at all to begin with.

Anyway, I brought this up to Paul one day and asked him what he thought.  Were they right?  I knew that I really wanted kids no matter what, but did he?  Knowing how much “trouble” they can be, did we still want to go down the path of doing whatever it takes to be parents (short of stealing one, I suppose)?

His reaction?  Made me thank God I married this man…

First he laughed.  He laughed like, seriously?  They said that?

And then, he actually said, Seriously?  They said that?  Wow, that’s actually a really rude thing for someone with kids to say.

What do you mean, I asked?

Well, he said, How can anyone who has kids ask us why we want them?  Why do WE want kids? Why did you have YOUR kids?

I know for people who don’t know my husband, that conversation was probably nothing astonishing.  But folks, my husband does not say things like that about people.  My husband is impossible to get a rise out of, so for him this was a pretty strong reaction.  He was clearly annoyed by what they said, and this is a man that rarely gets annoyed at the words of others.  So I think it’s safe to say that this is a sore subject for him too.  And while, that doesn’t make me feel good, it is nice to have that confirmation that I do indeed have a partner in what I’m feeling.

***

I was watching this video this morning. At first I was mainly paying attention to the lyrics. They seem to accurately capture a lot of what I’m feeling right now. Except I think I may be applying it in the wrong way…

But then I actually started to watch the photo montage and when it came to the picture of the lone set of footprints in the sand, it hit me.

During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a little lost.  I used to believe so strongly that God had a Plan for my life even if I had no clue what that was.  It was a comforting feeling.  That there would be meaning at the end of the road.

But recently, I haven’t felt that way.  I’ve been wondering if there really is a plan and finding that I’m not as comfortable with the not knowing part.  (Although, let’s face it, I have never been super comfortable with that part of it because of the whole control-freak problem).

I realized though, looking at that stupid photo, that as alone as I feel right now, this is probably one of those times where He is really carrying me.  And I have to trust in that.

Even if I don’t feel confident about where I’m headed anymore.

This might hurt
It’s not safe
But I know that I’ve gotta make a change
I don’t care if I break
At least I’ll be feeling something
Cause just ok
Is not enough
Help me fight through the nothingness of life
I don’t wanna go through the motions
I don’t wanna go one more day
Without Your all consuming passion inside of me
I don’t want to spend my whole life asking
What if I had given everything?
Instead of going through the motions

No regrets, not this time
I’m gonna let my heart defeat my mind
Let Your love, make me whole
I think I’m finally feeling something
Cause just ok
Is not enough
Help me fight through the nothingness of this life

– The Motions by Matthew West

re-engaging

I think I’ve been making a better go of it recently, but I probably still owe lots of people apologies for what a crappy keeper-in-toucher I’ve been for the past few months years.

I know this sounds like such a cop out but I really do think that nowadays, it’s because of my job.

I spend my days trying to absorb and analyze all the information that’s being thrown at me literally every second of every (eleven hour) work day. Nowadays that means a good 300-500 bloomberg messages, most of which I should, in a world where there are 48 hours in a day, be opening up, reading and clarifying what I don’t understand.

Since I’m the most junior person who shares the phone line (between three teams or a total of ten other people) I pick up a pretty decent chunk of the calls that come in and filter them to the right people or help if I can.

I also get anywhere from 30-100 emails per day, a lot of which contain research/commentaries I should be reading. Pages and pages of research/commentaries that take me 10x longer than normal to read.  Because they’re full of acronyms and terminology that you can’t even really google because they’re so frickin’ industry specific.

I’ve recently been added to a few chat groups with clients/traders that I need to pay closer attention to because time sensitive information goes into those as well. 

And those are actually just supposed to be the basics of what I do.  The sports analogy (those are popular in an office full of dudes) is that, that stuff is the “defense.” Beyond that I’m supposed to be starting to play some “offense,” i.e. running bonds, learning how to stress them, learning how clients look at them, learning how to play with the various analytic tools.  Constantly watching all the markets and making sure I understand how they intersect (e.g. the mortgage market is fundamentally tied to the treasury market so how would a certain event in the treasury market affect mortgages).  Reaching out to traders and asking them for market color, thoughts, interesting bonds, etc…

Do you see what I mean about being crushed with information?  This is why I can’t really get myself to log into FB anymore.  At the end of the day, I don’t really want to filter through posts or pictures, it’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I don’t care by 3pm.  Same with email.  Especially since I can’t check gmail or FB at work (and I think I’m the last person in the world without a smartphone, I LIKE my flip phone dammit!  although I will probably succumb to the iPhone in feb) it makes it so easy to just not do it at all.

Oh and the phone?  Well now that we have two-levels, I tend to just leave it wherever I’m not…And I check voicemails about once a month.

Yes, I’m bad.  Horrible.  Terrible.

I can’t believe there are people who still even bother with me.  Unsurprisingly, there are certainly some who have given up.  I really can’t blame them as I’m clearly a crappy friend.

It’s just that as accessible as I have to be to everyone all the time (senior sales people, clients, traders, other parts of the firm…) it’s so tempting to disengage whenever I can.  To finally be able to avoid calls if I don’t feel like talking.  Or not reply to an email right away if I don’t know what to say at that moment.  Those are luxuries I don’t really have for a large majority of the hours I’m awake, five days a week. 

I know it doesn’t mean that I should be taking that out on my friends, i.e. the people who care about me. 

I just need to find some kind of balance.  Which is difficult since I don’t think that’s something I’ve ever had at any point in my life.

Oh yeah, and I really am sorry for being such a shitty friend.  I’m working on it, I swear.

wanted: one non-medically induced good night’s sleep

I started practicing piano again in earnest this weekend. 

The cold hurt my poor little arthritic fingers, but once I had a chance to warm them up a bit things weren’t sounding so bad. 

And it felt damn good.  To have it all make sense again. 

Or at least start to.

I’m going to try make that a habit from now on.  I think I need it.  It’s another form of catharsis, release of emotion through music perhaps? 

This is choppy and I’m tired.  Sent the hubby out to play with some of his frat buddies.  I declined the invitation to join because I have no desire to get home drunk at midnight and try to wake up at the pre-buttcrack of dawn also known as 4am.  I don’t think it really counts as the crack of dawn because the moon is still quite dominant at that time of night and I think even the roosters are still fast asleep since it doesn’t get light for another 2-3 hours depending on the season. 

So yeah, pass on that.

But once again I sit here trying to drug myself into sleep and it’s not working and I’m starting to really freak out because now it’s 9pm.  Which means even if I were to fall asleep this very second, I will still only get seven hours of sleep. 

Sigh.

At this rate I should be overjoyed if I get six and a half.  Six is probably a more realistic number and it makes me sad. 

I like sleep.

a variation on bullet points

Re: divorce
Don’t worry, Paul and I are still the same nauseatingly perfect couple we’ve always been.  But last weekend I heard of the first divorce (that I know of) from my high school graduating class.  The background on my relationship with this person is, um, complicated, for lack of a better word but the news is nevertheless depressing.  From what I understand the marriage lasted less than two years, I have no idea why they broke up nor am I friendly with anyone who would know (although the gossip grapevine from my high school is still functioning quite well so I may hear some condensed, possibly inaccurate version of it years from now).  Despite what has happened in the decade since we graduated from high school, I once considered this girl to be one of my closest friends and I really am sad for her.  No matter what happened, I’m sure no one envisions signing divorce papers as they walk down the aisle.  Everyone must believe it’s going to last forever, at least long enough to say “I do” right?  To have it end so quickly must be difficult in it’s own way too for all the judgement it brings.  (But I won’t lie, there is a part of me that is speculating wildly, I’m not that mature, okay?).

Re: birth
Another one of my closest friends from high school, who was in my wedding and I was in hers, just celebrated her two year anniversary in November and gave birth to their first child exactly a week ago (a gorgeous little girl).  The juxtaposition of the lives of these two is so…poetic?  Is that the right word?  Beautiful or ugly, life continues. 

Re: bedside manner
I started watching Teen Mom 2 because I apparently really enjoy feeling like LIFE IS COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY UNFAIR.  Ahem.  Aside from that though, I actually really like Leah and Corey, mainly because they seem like good parents and I thought Corey was one of the only guys that truly manned up on 16 and Pregnant.  (I had to stop just now and stare at that sentence for a minute.  Yes, I watch that crap.  My life is sad.  Stop judging me).  BUT ANYWAY.  I was watching the part where Leah has to take one of the twins to a specialist and after the examination the man just sort of starts to rattle off the things he sees that are off about the development of this sweet little baby.  Leah is clearly in shock and he obviously has no interest in any of that as he tells them that someone from his “staff” will call them to set up an appointment and then rushes out the door.  The scene was just so real.  As great as my doctors have been I could definitely see a bit of them in him.  Especially Dr. Kidney.  He’s certainly not mean or unkind, just very clinical (I’ve found specialist tend to be vastly more this way than GP’s for obvious reasons).  Which is hard sometimes because it’s all very personal to you after all. 

Re: spam
I have been getting a lot of spam comments in a foreign language recently. I guess that’s a change. I’m still not sure what it is about a wordpress published blog that attracts the spam comments but if anyone has any tips on how to make it stop…help…please…

Re: 8
Also known as the number of pounds I have lost since mid-December.  I readily admit that it has not been done in a healthy way but oh well.  What’s done is done.  Six more to go.  I have been working on the whole appetite thing with lots of fruit and forcing myself to eat a few bites more than what feels comfortable.  Still haven’t made it onto the treadmill at all, but I’m, uh, seriously considering it.  Soon-ish. I’ve cut down the red meat and dairy but only completely eliminated it as of this past weekend. I’m thinking it may need to become more of a general cleanse though (although is there a point when you’re taking so many pills that it becomes pointless?). 

Re: other progress
I read (for fun). I practiced a bit of piano last night. Still tutoring. Been hanging out with people a little too much if you ask me.

Re: other fail
Have not contacted the acupuncturist (or stylist for that matter, I know a haircut should not be an annual event, but for me, it is). Can’t think of anything nice I’ve done for a stranger yet so far this year (unless tipping a cabbie who totally didn’t deserve it counts?). Have not visited any churches (I won’t even ask if thinking about it counts).

Re: addiction
The am.bien is not working like it used to anymore. The end. I’m doomed.