tiredoffeelingbad

And now, we are on the plane going home.  I have to keep stopping myself from going to the left even with all the fun I had.  It’s amazing how easy it is to have my “something’s wrong” brain (SWB) take me over.

My SWB woke me up a couple of nights in Cabo with my familiar panic, “what am I supposed to do?”  I looked around.  I’m on vacation, I thought.  There is nothing I need to do.  Chill, I would tell myself.  Why was that so hard for me?  Why was it so hard to relax?

On the way down my SWB was worrying about work.  My friends said, “Stop” you’re on vacation.  We’re not talking about work.  So we made a deal.  If I worried, I had to do a shot.  So, I didn’t worry.  (Well, at least not out loud).  That was a good trick to make me more conscious about it.

I seem to have some kind of block about being happy.  I don’t know what it is.  I enjoyed the vacation and being away and the beautiful scenery.  I loved being with my work friends and getting to know some of the people better than I had before.  I made new friends.  I worked out every day.  I relaxed on the beach and swam in the pool.

So what if I ate and drank more than I had wanted to?   So what if I didn’t have a guy?  It was great being able to do what I wanted to do whenever I wanted to.  I really feel the love for my fellow AFLAC people and I never thought I would say that.  They are a great bunch of people.  Doing what we do is hard work, so it takes a special person who won’t quit.

So what is the problem with me and Happy?

When my mother asked if I was having a good time, I cringed at my response.

“It’s good,” I said in a monotone voice.  “It’s nice.”

Why didn’t I scream and say “IT’S AMAZING!!  I LOVE IT!!!”?

I’ve been wondering about that.  I think it’s my critical voice.  It’s the part of me waiting to get disappointed.  Or if you get your hopes up you are stupid.  Or you aren’t 20 and don’t have a perfect body.  I have wrinkles.  My stomach isn’t firm like it had been two years ago.

My right side brain says “So the fuck what?”  Why am I letting my little voice of criticism ruin my good life?

(Ok.  We are having turbulence.  Luckily I took my motion sickness pills.  Throwing up is not my favorite thing to do.  I’m trying not to think about it.)

Back to the voice.   It tells me “you can’t be happy if…..

• you’re up a few pounds
• if your daughter is miserable back at home
• You’re behind on your numbers
• You don’t have a man
• You don’t know where you will live after the rental
• You get frustrated
• You get bitchy
• You are messy

And on and on and on……So I can never be happy if I listen to the voice.  Because something will always be slightly off.  So  I can allow it to ruin my vitality, energy, passion, etc. or just realize that maybe I am just “on it” And I can just get off it.  Like I did with the blog.

Well, how do you get off it?  I had asked an old mentor years ago.

“You get off it, and get off it and get off it, and get off it,……until you do.  You finally start laughing and your sense of humor comes back.  And you keep getting off it.

So, I guess I will get off it…….

And now I can see that  I HAD A GREAT TIME!!!

I am actually moved to tears over it right now.  Spending time with my son was great.  The place and friends I made were amazing.  And, I can’t wait to see my mom and daughter and tell them all about it.  AND BE EXCITED ABOUT IT!!!!

And that’s a breakthrough.

I am on the plane flying home from a 3 day 3 night stay in Cabo.  It is a beautiful place.  We stayed at the Grand Fiesta Americana.  There were 600 AFLAC associates and coordinators in the resort.  It was all inclusive which is a dangerous thing.  All the drinks and food were free.

I won the trip when I hit my numbers the last few quarters and I was allowed to bring a guest.  I brought my 21 year old son, Jesse.

I was happy to be on vacation, in a beautiful place with my son.  But I couldn’t escape this feeling of malaise.  Like something was wrong.   I was horrified at myself.  Everyone else seemed to be laughing and enjoying themselves.

We were sitting with some friends the second day for lunch.  One of the guys asked, “Are you having fun?”

My son said, “yes.”  He had stayed out until 3:00 in the morning with some of the other 20’ish children. He had a ball with them exploring the resort, drinking, and ordering free room service at 2:00 AM.

Then they looked at me.  “It’s nice.”

“Nice?”  they said, stunned.  “Why aren’t you having fun? What’s wrong with you, girl?”

I thought about it.  I didn’t know what the problem was.  Finally, tears filled my eyes and  I blurted out, “I think I’m too old to have fun.  Everyone here is so young.  I went to sleep last night at 10:00 PM.  I feel like I’m just too old and boring.”

“You’re not too old to have fun,” one of the guys said.  “That’s ridiculous.”  He looked me in the eyes.   ” We are going to have to do something about this.”

He and his friend left to go to the pool.  I started thinking.  Was I just living on the left?   I didn’t think it was possible on vacation.  I was horrified at myself but as I’ve learned, making myself wrong just makes whatever it is worse.  I was feeling old, and fat, and ugly and boring.  And I just looked forward to going to sleep and hiding from everyone.

All of a sudden I remembered our possibility from the trip.  Fun, free and fabulous.  Oh shit.  Oops, I had forgotten it.

The next day instead of staying by myself on the beach, I started hanging with other people.  I jumped into the pool where the fun guys were.  They were happy to see me and I felt like I definitely fit in.  Later I met another couple on the beach and had a great conversation with them.

Whenever my fat thoughts came into my head, I remembered a chapter from my “Thighs” book.  Guys don’t care about your body flaws.  They think women are ridiculous for making such a big deal about bodies.  They just love naked women.  Period.  They don’t have as many rods in their eyes so they don’t see as much details or something.   So what was I worrying about?

I started walking around proudly, strutting my stuff, my extra five pounds and all.  Well, why not?   There were plenty of bigger women all around me who didn’t look the least bit self-conscious.  I took a page from them.

And then, yesterday, instead of just staying at the resort like I usually do, I decided to branch out and give Jesse a little tour of the place.  Rather then spending more then I wanted on a six hour tour, I worked with the hotel travel guy and designed our own shuttle plus boat tour for $25 apiece.  I was proud of my resourcefulness, especially when our first option did not turn out.

We could see why it was so cheap when we were crammed into a van with 12 other people and then we had to wait 20 minutes to get going.  But we got what we paid for and enjoyed every minute of it.  We all laughed as we toured the cove with it’s beautiful rock formations, sea lions, and entry into the rough Pacific Ocean.  Sitting on the front of the boat, getting sun, laughing and looking at the beautiful scenery was the highlight of our trip.

After the boat ride we had an hour before going back to the resort.  We found the  Mango Deck, where we thought some of our friends might be.  There they were, hooting and hollering at a VIP table right by the stage.  We watched a dance contest for the men.  Next was the women’s contest.  The MC asked for female volunteers.  I boldly got up on stage with the 20 year old women and played a game of Simon Says.  We had to get different men out of the audience and get back fast with them.  It was like musical chairs and the last person back was out.  I found a white man and a Mexican, but couldn’t find a black man.   So I was out.  But it was fun and I was proud of myself for volunteering.

We bought souvenirs for the people at home with the $60 I found in my shorts pocket.  We took the shuttle back, and got ready for our dinner.  I wore my new black dress and was told I looked “sexy.”  I started dancing when they played some of my favorite 70’s songs.  I got the crowd going to Love Shack and Brick House.  I was in the moment and having a great time.

I guess I wasn’t too old to have fun after all!!!

Hey guys:

I’ve been reading “Lovable” by Suzanne Muller in my spare time.  She recommended a reading list so I ordered one of the books, “How to Set His Thighs on Fire” by Kate White.

I got it this weekend and I’ve been devouring it.

Chapter 17 – How to Look as Sexy as J.Lo really got to me.   And, another chapter about being sexy.

I have been avoiding looking sexy probably my whole life.  I didn’t want to just be “loved” for my boobs.  That can be a whole ‘nother blog for a different day.  Look for “The Boob Story”.   For now, let’s just say, I didn’t want guys oogling me, was a tom-boy, an athlete, wore sneakers, etc.  I was friendly, but in a friend sort of way.

And, if I was going to have self-talk in the past it would be, “hold in your gut you fat moose,” or “your wrinkles are showing you old hag,” or “I’m sure everyone is noticing the 5 pounds you have gained.”  You can see what I mean.  Not very nice and not conducive to sexy.  (OK I wasn’t that mean, I’m just trying to make a point.)

So, why does J.Lo look so sexy?  Because “she has a very sexy thought in her head the moment the picture is taken”.

And there is another part of the book that says if you think you are sexy you will be sexy.  (I’m in a rush or I’d find it).

So, today, every time I had a negative thought, I would tell myself I was sexy.  And, I walked different and held myself different I noticed.  And, I wasn’t feeling unattractive like I can tend to.

Well, guys were noticing.  I could feel it.

One guy was looking at me in the truck next to me.  I smiled at him which I have not done in years.  He stared.  And then we sort of raced until he had to turn.  It was fun.

But then is the uh-oh.  On the highway, this truck pulled next to me and was riding next to me.  I finally looked up.  He had his tongue out – in and out – you get my drift.  At first I gave him the thumbs up thinking this was great. But then, he started following me and I started thinking he might be doing something in his lap and I got very wigged out.  He kept doing it and I stopped looking at him.  Then he came up on my other side.

I shook my head and waved him on.  He drove ahead.  I made sure he went ahead when I got off my exit.  It really scared me.  I had a plan though.  I was going to drive into a public place and ask for help if he really followed me.

So, I got my sexy on today, I will say, but now I remember why I turned it off.  I attracted a real creep.

There has to be a happy medium somewhere, fun without dangerous.  Anyone got any clues?

My mother and I were getting dinner made for us on Mother’s Day by my son and my ex.  It was very nice of them to offer.  My mother-in-law had passed away a year ago so we include my ex-husband, Mark, in our family functions.  Some people think it odd, but we still have the kids together and we are still friends.  We get along better now then when we were married, so it’s easier to just “be a family” for the kids.

“We will be making corned beef and cabbage,” Mark told me.

Shit, I thought.  Corned beef is delicious but it has too many weight watcher points for me.  I’d rather use my points on wine and chips.  Do I say something? Or do I silently suffer? I was driving up 95 to my beach cottage, wondering what I should do.

“Well, that’s great,” I finally said, “but I don’t really eat that.  But that’s ok, I’ll make something else for me or just eat a bite.  You enjoy it.”

OK, that was a little sarcastic, but at least I spoke up.

“What would you like to have?”  Mark asked.

“Hmmmm………Fish…….  And broccolli rabe,”  I said.

“OK, we will get that then.”

Wow, I thought.  I can have what I want.  I am more used to silent suffering, make wrong, and resentment.  This feels a little strange.

We’ll see, I silently told myself.  Last June on my birthday, I also asked for what I wanted.  Grilled chicken and vegetables.  They said ok.  I was really looking forward to it.

Much to my surprise, when I got home that day, there was a big vat of sausage and peppers cooking.  And on the counter were rows and rows of hamburgers and hot dogs.

“Where’s my chicken?”  I asked, thinking I must have just not seen it.

“Oh,”  my ex said.  He looked in the freezer, took out a piece of frozen chicken that I had made weeks ago, slammed it on the counter  and said, “You can eat this.”

I felt like I had been stabbed in the heart.  It still hurts to think about it.  I complained all night, telling everyone how hurt I was and how mean Mark was.

(Later I discussed it with Mark and he admitted he couldn’t have been meaner if he had tried.  Some kind of passive aggressive behavior designed to get me back for divorcing him or a statement against all women or whatever.  The devil overtake him.)

And, that treatment fit perfectly in with my story about how I can’t have what I want.

Even today, I almost didn’t say anything.  The pull of wanting to be right, being upset, and almost making sure I am unhappy is powerful.  It sounds terrible to admit, but it feels true.  It seems to have been running my life for some time.

And I can see that after so many years of having this woe, it really takes something to give it up.  I can’t imagine my life if I really got what I want.  It’s almost scary.   I could even be – happy?  Nah, let’s not go crazy.  Something can always go wrong…………I mean, when all else fails, I can always be upset about work, my wrinkles, my weight……………

Just kidding……….sort of……there’s definitely more to look at here……but for now, I need to go BE HAPPY at my Mother’s Day Dinner.  Wish me luck!!!!!

I was on the phone with my of my fellow writers discussing the lack of comments on this blog and my inherit suffering over this issue.

She told me that when she tried to comment, it asked her for her email and other information and it was prohibitive so she didn’t do leave one.

“Oh, maybe that’s why only a couple of people are leaving comments,”  I said.  “Wow.  That would be a better explanation than what I made up.”

So I tried it and she was right.  It was a pain in the you know what.

So, after delving into WordPress and all of it’s buttons, selections and options, I found out how to change it.  It was kind of fun to be a detective.  Not something I would normally bother with.

Now, you shouldn’t need to enter any information in order to comment.  Let’s see if it helps.

Lessons learned:

1. Asking for help can give me important feedback.
2. Silent suffering is not very productive.
3. Sharing my blog with 5 people a day is good for my soul.
4. Sharing with the same person twice is not cheating like I thought.  The reason is, that in this person’s case, the second time had her act on it.
5. All is good.
6. Happy Mother’s Day!!!!

I love the fact that someone on a dating web site can decide I am nice, voluptuous, sexy, wonderful and already be telling me what we are going to do together.

But, I haven’t met the guy yet.  So WTF?

Why would he get so attached before we have met?  He doesn’t even know me.

I mean, we all want to find “the one,” but how can you know that if you don’t even know the person?  Is it the fantasy you are thinking about or the actual person?  Are you willing to get to know them and put the work in or just glom on to an idea and suffocate them, driving them away in the process?

OK, I need to slow down, relax, and breathe.   I’ve talked to this guy a few times, but never met him.  He doesn’t sound too bad, but there’s some kind of suffering I can hear in his voice.   Since I have that too, I’m afraid it could be a problem.  I need someone uplifting.  Plus, when I looked at his picture, I was not so attracted.

Mean, but what can I say?  He had this big walrus mustache that made me want to gag.  I know, what a bitch.  But, I’ve decided to be honest.  He somehow mentioned that he got rid of it, though.

Now here’s another thing.  He grew up rich, lost it all, and is now struggling to make ends meet and needing to  take care of some family members.  But it’s the self pity that worries me.

Why am I telling you all this?  I don’t know.

But here’s my breakthrough for the day.  I was sharing with him about the courses and seminars I do.  He was being negative.  “I already know my problems,” he said.  “I already know what I need to do.”

“What if there’s something you don’t know?”  I asked.

He started arguing with me.  Finallly I lost it.

“These courses and programs have given me the tools to have more freedom and power in my life.  I am looking for someone who is also looking to grow and development.  If you are not interested in that, that is great.  I’m not looking to change anyone.  BUT, I am not interested in someone who is not open to that.   I want someone who does not want to stay stuck and trusts me when I say I am offering them gold.  I want someone who’s willing to take the gold and explore having a great life together.”

He didn’t say anything.  I was on a roll, but it felt great to unleash myself natural  passion for the first time in my life.

“I’m sorry,”  I said.  “But I think I just let loose 24 years of frustration.  And, it’s true.  I will no longer tolerate being with someone who thinks they know everything and isn’t open..”

“Well,……..I guess I’d be willing to find out about it,” he said.

“Good.”

I may or may not meet him later.  Either way is fine.

But, the great thing is that I expressed myself.  That is new for me.  I am tired of putting up with what I don’t want because I am afraid to say it.  Afraid they will “leave me in the driveway” or something like that.

So, let’s put a check in the FREEDOM column for today.  It feels great.

Plus, I have shared the blog with 3 people so far today and it’s only 12:41 PM.

Just getting into action has made me feel WAY more alive.  I guess I got “off it.”

Are you “on it?”

Today I went out of my box and shared about my blog to more then 5 people on a daily call I went on.  I didn’t want to, but I promised my seminar group that I would have a breakthrough in not being negative,  or “on it” as we call it, and share with 5 people a day.

So, I shared, and I was moved by the response.  People were asking me for the name of it, two people told me they had told their friends about it already, and two others texted me for additional information.

I was so happy and thrilled.  I texted my group and they gave me the thumbs up.  And then, this afternoon I checked my stat page and it was a huge yellow bar that didn’t even fit on the page.  I had 19 views.  I wanted to do a dance around my cottage.  YAY!

But here’s the scary part.  I then checked the comments.  0.  My milestone is 25 comments and 50 by June 12, and I have been stuck at 18 for 3 weeks.  Debbie Downer took over and I Immediately morphed to “the left” side of life.  (Explained in the Blog’s “About”).    My happiness was replaced with a heavy dose of silent miserable suffering.

Negative thoughts swirled out of control in my brain.  What’s the use? This is stupid.  Obviously they hated what they read and were too embarassed for me to comment.  Why am I doing this?  Who needs the aggravation?  I’m done.  I quit.

My energy was gone, replaced by exhaustion.  I went outside to my deck.  It was too cold to stay out.  I came back inside, needing to take a nap.

I really want to be outside, I thought.  I can make this work.  I grabbed a yoga matt, fleece jacket, blanket, pillow, and a quilt and made myself a nice little bed outside on my deck.  I arranged the blankets and moved my legs around until I got into a comfortable position.

I stared at the blue sky.  What is wrong with me?  Why can’t I ever stay happy for more then a minute?  Why can’t I ever just enjoy my success?

Because you can’t have you want, the voice said.

But I got views, I said.  People at least looked.

Exactly.  But they didn’t comment.  And that’s what you wanted.

How old is this conversation?  I wondered.  Probably 2.  All of mine are.  When they left me in the driveway, I must have decided I couldn’t have what I wanted.  I wanted to go to the concert.  And they left me there.  WAHHHHHH (sound of crying).

OK, if I upgraded “No one cares” yesterday, I can upgrade this one too.

Let’s see……………..”I can have what I want.  I can ask for it AND, it may not always look like I think it should or happen as fast as I want it to.”

That’s much better.

AND, I don’t know why those people didn’t comment.  Maybe they didn’t know how.  Maybe they were in a rush.  Maybe they did and I didn’t see them.  I don’t really know.   All I know is that my mind always goes to the worst case.  And thinks the worst.

So, as I laid there, listening to the waves, I  realized that my life is pretty fucking good.   I “got off” it again.  It doesn’t mean anything if people didn’t comment.  I did what I said I would do and shared.  That’s all I can control.   And I will do it again tomorrow.  And who knows where this will lead.

I have this great cottage for as long as my landlord lets me stay.  I have money in the bank.  My health is good.  I work out every day.  I have friends and family that I love.  I’m seeing an old friend for dinner tonight.  I have a potential date for tomorrow night who actually might seem normal.  I’m holding my own at work.

So, ok, I’m up a couple of pounds, I didn’t get comments, and there are moments when I am still REALLY sad and miss my dad.  But I can just be sad and it’s a lot better then pretending I’m not.

This morning on my way home from the gym there was a huge cloud high in the sky that looked like a person reaching out.  I decided it was my dad.  And I talked to him. Out loud in my car.   And I cried.  And it was great.  I told him everything.

So things are good.  And I am grateful that people were interested enough to view my blog.  And, I might create a new milestone for views.  Why not?  It seems like something I can effect/affect (I never remember which one to use)  more than comments.

So thank you whoever (whomever?) is reading this.  I appreciate it and I hope something I have said can make a difference for you.  I’m afraid people will think I am always down and out.  I’m afraid they will think a lot of things.

And, the times when I write are when I am feeling bad.  This is a tool for me to transform those feelings.  The woman who wrote Eat, Pray, Love said that you write for yourself.  Don’t write for others.  You do what you need to do.

So I have to remind myself of that whenever I am worrying about what people are going to think.  And, continue to write.  Because I love to.  I don’t know why, but I do.

Why don’t I just keep this as a private journal? one of my friends asked me.

Good question.  But if I did, it could rob the one person who might need this a chance to read it.  And why should I limit myself because of my fears?  I’m the possibility of Freedom.  And, being Happy, Whole and Complete.   And, wouldn’t that happy and whole person make this available to everyone?

…………………I thought you’d agree.

So thanks again for reading.  I’ve got to go get “dolled up” for my dinner.

‘Surveys show that most of us say we believe in God, yet too few of us choose to believe in ourselves.
To my mind that’s like praising an architect and then being afraid to walk into one of his or her buildings!”

-Bruce Garrabrandt-

I just saw this quote after writing this blog and I thought it underlined what I was writing about.  Here’s my entry:

This past week I have been really upset with a bunch of people.  Not for what they said or did but because of what I was sure they meant by it all.

And, every time, I was very wrong.  It seems silly now, but at the time, I only knew what was in my head.  And, my head always seems to be very, very negative and disempowering.

Here is one example.   I was talking to my work out buddy after Tuesday as we were leaving the gym.  I knew he had over an hour to get to work, so I walked with him to his car, wanting to ask him a question.  From out of no where, he tone changed, he said “I gotta go,” got in his car, and left, very abruptly.  I had my mouth open in shock and he almost ran me over my foot.  I gave him the finger as he drove away, muttering, “WTF?  What an ass hole.  Fuck you.”

I couldn’t get it out of my mind.  All day long my mind revisited the scene of the crime.  “I will never walk him to his car again.  I should have known not to do that.  Why did I try to talk to him when he was rushing, I am an idiot.”

By the next day I was feeling physically ill.  I don’t know why but everything about my life was looking bad.  “I must be really annoying.  I obviously was bothering him.  I can’t even have a friend without literally driving him away.  He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.  I must be really horrible.”  I went home in between meetings and had to lay down on the couch.  My body hurt and I had no energy.  What was wrong with me?  Why was I like this?

I tried to get my mind in a better place.  I didn’t do anything wrong.  He just has issues.  It’s his problem, not mine.  Why should I even care?  It’s my fault for hanging out with an ass hole.  Anyone would tell me that.  I deserve it.  I am really stupid.

No matter what I told myself, I ended up going down a very dark tunnel in my mind and it seemed like something was very wrong with me and my life.

I started thinking maybe I had caught the flu or a bug.  My stomach was a mess and I was in pain.

Now, mind you, my original incident as a child was being left in the driveway by our neighbors.  They lied to me about where they were going and I waited and waited for them to come back.  I was two years old.  Even though it sounds ridiculous, it was my break in belonging and I subconsciously made a lot of decisions about life in that moment.

Today, two days later, at the gym, I ignored my friend.  I was so mad I couldn’t even talk to him.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked.

I was secretly pleased that he noticed and that he seemed to care.

“Let me ask you a question,”  I said.  “In my mind you had over an hour to get to work on Tuesday.  Why the hell did you peal out like you were on fire?  All of a sudden you became a crazy person.”

“I had to go help someone.  I was in a hurry.”

“Well, it seemed like you were mad about something.”

“No.  When I decide it’s time to leave, no one is going to stop me.  Not even Donald Trump.  I just go.”

We discussed it for a while.

“Next time I’ll be nicer,” he said.

I went up to him a little bit later.  “It made me feel like you didn’t care.  You were nice one minute and the next you couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

“Are we still talking about this?” he asked.  He cocked his eyebrow.

“Yes.  I am,  I was really upset.  Can you imagine if it happened to you?  Wouldn’t you wonder what you had done?”

“Yes, but I would ask the person.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to see you for two days.”  I said.

“Oh, well yeah I guess.”

So in the end, his leaving like that had nothing to do with me.  It wasn’t because I bothered him or annoyed him at all.  So I should have been good.

But as I was leaving, I realized he never did say that he cared.  I started getting anxious.

“Why?” I asked myself.  Why is this bothering me so much?

No one cares, my little mind said.  No one REALLY cares about you.  Or they wouldn’t have left you in the driveway.

And, there it was.  My little 2 year old has been suffering for all these years thinking that no one really cared about me.  It started making sense.

I could see my pattern.  When someone that I liked acted like they cared about me I would get really happy.  Euphoric even.  But eventually, something would happen that would kick my “no one cares” into action.  It could be acting annoyed with me, leaving in a hurry, making a face or a negative comment.  I would lose my grounding and get really really needy.  I would need reassurance in order to feel secure.  It was a terrible feeling to feel that pathetic.

And I hadn’t been able to figure out how to stop it before.

I wanted to go back to my friend and ask him if he cared.  But why should I?  He obviously did in some way since we worked out together and he did ask me what was the matter with me.

I decided, instead,  to upgrade my two year old conversation that “no one cares.”

People just have their own lives, just like I do.  If I’m annoyed with someone, it doesn’t mean I don’t care.  I’m just annoyed.

So this is what I decided.  People do care AND they also have their own lives to live.  It’s not always about me.  It doesn’t mean they don’t care.

What do you think about that?  I like it.

I have been hanging out in my little cottage on the beach since noon today.  I sat outside reading even though it was cold.  I used my 5 burner grill and made food for the week.

I finished my book.  It was called “The Award” by Danielle Steel.  I had stopped reading her because she was so “cliche”, but these days, I enjoy a simple to read book with a happy ending.  Her writing is smooth, tells a great story, and you can be happy at the end.  This was a little bittersweet, but it was about a woman who was courageous as a young girl  during the Holocaust who was finally rewarded for her bravery at the end of her life.

I’ve had a great day.  Enjoyed my solitude and peace.  And yet, I am sad.  I had a discussion with my mom today that really frustrated me.  And, I feel bad that she can’t understand what I was talking about.  And this is all a familiar thing for me.  It’s happened before.

She questions everything.  And I hear it as a criticism.  And sometimes, I just need to get away from there.  I don’t always want to have to defend everything I do.  I feel judged, criticized, and not accepted for how I am.  And, I feel terrible when I leave.

She says that she just wants to know me better.  That’s why she asks questions.  That’s just who she is and what she does.  Why do I have to take it as a criticism?

And the conversation went on and on.  It started because my brother was questioning her:  why did you put the liquid from the smoked salmon on the serving plate?  Why do you have your eggs cooking in that little pot?  Why are you using that burner?

I commented that it was just like having my father around.  He criticized everything.  And I asked him how his children responded to his constant questioning?

He didn’t think it was a problem but his wife, Linda, says he needs to change how he says things.   It sounds like he is judging everyone and that his way is always better.

Well, yes, I agree, I thought.

“Why don’t you like questions?”  My mother asked me, now putting the focus on me.  Damn, I thought.  Why is this now on me?

I tried to tell her because I felt criticized.  I didn’t like to always have to defend myself.

“I only ask so I can learn more about you,” she said.  “I don’t know why you would always take it as a negative.”

Really?  I thought to myself.  Does it really matter why I brushed my teeth a second time after drinking coffee.  (I didn’t like the taste in my mouth).  How is that getting to know me?

I tried to tell her how I felt.  And she didn’t understand.  And the conversation lasted for 30 minutes until I was in the driveway trying to leave and yelling at her in frustration.  I’m sure the neighbors enjoyed it.

And, it felt just like when I tried to explain to my ex husband why him doubling our debt on our house over 20 years was disturbing to me.  I would have thought we would have paid off the mortgage and had more equity.  Instead, we kept refinancing and taking out home equity loans.  That bothered me, just like his spending more then we made.

And for 20 years I tried to explain why his spending upset me.  And he could never understand.   NEVER!!!  And he kept telling me to try to explain it again.  And he still didn’t understand what the problem was.  To this day…….

And it was frustrating… And, after many years I started doubting my sanity.  Was it me?  Why was I upset?  Was I just crazy?

OK – later –

I just talked to a friend.  She said I have to give up being right.

Right about what?  I couldn’t imagine………………………..

That your mother needs to understand.  That she needs to stop asking questions.  She is not going to change.  You need to let it go.  Play with it.  Do something different.  This isn’t working for you.

She’s right.  I will.  Even though I don’t want to, I will.  Because this is too exhausting.  I will call her and make it all better.  I don’t like not getting along.  It makes me really sad.  And tired.  Too tired to call right now.  Maybe I’ll call her tomorrow.

Good night.