Drinking Tea in Heaven

So to say I was a little freaked out when my cousin called to tell me that her adorable six year old autistic son had been drawing pictures of Aunt Dasi flying up to heaven to see Great Grandma & Poppops is an understatement. When she had the child himself leave me a message reiterating this fact, I got a little upset. I mean, really, who wants to hear that someone, ANYONE, keeps imagining you dead? Ok, so I'm sure throughout my not-so-perfect life there may have been occasions where certain people may have wished me dead, but I usually had done something to deserve the ill thoughts. Here was an innocent kid telling me that, at least in HIS mind, I would soon be drinking tea with Great Grandma in heaven. And I don't even LIKE tea. I guess I should be grateful at least that he saw me going up instead of down.

But then I had an epiphany. Maybe what he is seeing isn't really the death of dasi, per se - maybe it is the death of the OLD dasi. The dasi who hasn't been writing on a regular basis in years. The dasi who has allowed herself to gain weight and has gotten lazy with her workouts. The dasi who had become complacent, if not happy, with her routine of work, eat, sleep, work. The dasi who stoppped taking chances in life and preferred to stick with only what she knows.

I wouldn't mind at all if THAT dasi vanished.

Maybe this is a sign. I mean, think about it: Timmortal just published a book. So did Marissa. Cheryl is getting married. Linda GOT married. And Amber - married AND a baby. Alice is still writing - as far as I know. All my blogging buddies have been moving forward with their lives, and I seem to have come to a complete stop. I keep on telling people, "Oh, I know, I've been SO busy..." but really? Not so much. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, yes - raising a teenage daughter and working two jobs does count as being busy. But it never used to stop me before. And to be honest, as a teenager Lexie needs less attention than when she was younger (and she usually would prefer hanging out with her friends than with her mom!), so there is really no reason for this mental shutdown.

Just before I got my cousin's message, I bought myself a netbook. I told myself that having something to write with at all times would help me get my groove back. And guess what? Here I sit, on the train, writing. WRITING! And it feels good. I also did some half-assed exercises this morning. And packed a Lean Cuisine (which I hope hasn't expired) for my lunch, instead of checking to see if I had enough money for chicken Mc Nuggets. I re-hired my wonderful cleaning lady, and yesterday I came home to a spotless, beautiful house. Which funny as it sounds, really does improve your mood & general outlook on things.
Spring is in the air, and I am sensing a kind of rebirth. My next major step will be rereading TBOTE and trying to get that finished. One day at a time, I guess. But I have a really good feeling about this.

So thanks for the info Kar-Bear, I'm not as freaked out anymore. I know you meant no harm in telling me - and as it turns out, your instincts were right again. Tell my little guy he has inspired his Aunt Dasi to start moving forward again. And thanks.

Unless I get hit by a Mack truck while walking to work from the train station. Which I hope doesn't happen, because that would REALLY suck.

Who I Am

So tonight I went out for drinks with a colleague from work. I was feeling a little down, had a fight with Lexie earlier (so what else is new) and plus had a bit of a cold. Add in a really busy night at the Lobster, and I was sooo ready to relax. And relax I did. To the point that my colleague (ok, FRIEND) recommended I “see someone.” Which even I have to admit is probably not a bad idea.

See, I have these “issues.” If you have been reading “TBOTE,” you may know a tad bit about them. But even that story is only the tip of the iceberg. Because my issues have gone waaaaayyy back… we’re talking to about the beginning of high school, maybe even earlier.

I have always had a need to be liked. Not just a regular need, but a NEED. And I was always quick to take the blame for any problems or worry about what other people thought about me. I would do or say anything to be liked, to be wanted, to belong. When I was in grammar school, this wasn’t a huge issue. I had my little group of friends, my best friend Ann, and Suzy, Dawn, and Linda. We were inseparable. I have the best memories of grammar school with them. Memories that I cherish to this day. But in high school things started to change. A new girl joined our group, Sheila. I liked Sheila well enough, but I must admit, I was a bit jealous of her as well. And at that time, I was also getting bored. I still loved my friends, but I wanted ADVENTURE. I wanted BOYS. I wanted to be a rebel. So I found a new friend, Marilee.

Marilee took me on a roller coaster ride like no other I had experienced in my life. She was wild, she was beautiful, she broke the rules. She was cool - and I wanted to be like her. So much so that I got the same haircut, wore the same clothes, shared the same makeup. I drank, and I flirted, and I broke curfew. Ann and the rest of my old group fell by the wayside. I had found what I was looking for.

Or so I thought. During that time, I put up with hurtful nicknames, numerous putdowns, and a general sense of disdain. The rest of the crowd knew I was a phony - that I wasn’t one of them. But I still tried and tried, and kept a smile on my face the whole time. To her credit, Marilee was a great friend, but even she got tired of me pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

I started working at a kitchen in the hospital across the street from school - and continued my charade. I was pretty, and fun, and flirted with all the boys, but deep down was so insecure it actually hurt. I was an excellent matchmaker (still am, actually), but could never find anyone to love ME.

When I went to college, I thought it would be my new lease on life. But it was the same old story. Trying so hard to make people like me… only this time I had the added problem of mistaking sex for love. No one ever took me seriously, and no one knew how alone and lost I felt. I was always the good time girl, and when people tired of me, they made it known - whether it was with hurtful words, or fire extinguishers, or simply being frozen out.

You can read “TBOTE” to find out about my young adult years… and now? Not much has changed. I am a mom - and I’m not even sure I am a good mom. My daughter doesn’t think so. I’m not sure I do, either. I do my best, but I worry all the time that I may be doing the same things my father used to do to me, focusing on what I DIDN’T do instead of what I DID. I’m tired. I work two jobs, and I raise my daughter the best that I can - all by myself. I’m really not trying to sound all “poor me” here, but you know what? It sucks. And it’s hard. And I really wish I had a husband or boyfriend to help me out sometimes. Believe me, this is NOT where I thought I would be at 42.

Ha.

Not by a long shot.

I’ve been through a lot in my life, most of it brought on by myself, some of it not, but I’ve survived. Yes, I suppose I am a strong woman, but please stop telling me that. I’m tired of being strong. I need someone to lean on. I need to figure out why I am so unhappy with who I am, despite the fact that I am successful even without a college degree, and still somewhat attractive, and have plenty of “friends.” I need to stop feeling so inadequate when I look at or hear about other people’s lives.

I need to stop looking at pictures of Ann, and Suzy, and Linda and Dawn because it hurts so bad knowing that I let that go that I can hardly breathe sometimes.

But I think what I need to start doing most of all is loving myself - and making no apologies for who I am.