Poppy Cedes

I really need to get a job. I’m a very much homebody who will go weeks without leaving my apartment if given the opportunity. Yesterday I admitted to Dawg that I had intended to mail a letter since last week but haven’t felt like leaving our home and his response was to smile and say “ya gotta go out.” So I drank all my milk last night to force myself to have to leave the apartment to go to the grocery store to get milk the next day so that I would have some for filming Cereal Wednesday, and presumably allow me to mail my letter. That worked — I went out today.

Some of you know that during the outing I had an incident with a bottle of malt vinegar. It didn’t survive, but I didn’t cut myself cleaning up the shards that spilled all over the driveway of the next door neighbor. I started getting really, really angry. Angry that it was hot. Angry that I had intended to get that malt vinegar many times before and finally got it only to smash it on the ground. Angry that my groceries were so heavy. Angry that I hate leaving my home and this is EXACTLY WHY.

And then I finally got inside and violently shrugged all the grocery bags out of my hands and started putting groceries away, angrily, furious with myself that I STILL hadn’t mailed my letter yet and now THIS happens, and then the Dove ice cream bars wouldn’t sit correctly on top of the Mystic pizza boxes in the freezer and I started getting PISSED and ramming the boxes in… and then the rational part of me showed up and yelled at me, out loud: “Stef, you need to CALM DOWN, this is NOT worth being angry over, and none of this even MATTERS.”

And then I really had to go mail the letter because it’s actually due to be in Connecticut by tomorrow, not that this will even happen, but keeping it in my possession wasn’t going to get it there any faster. So I went back downstairs to mail the letter. And I walked by a burnt out car parked the wrong way on the one way street where our police precinct resides. And I thought that through. This car burned out. Perhaps starting while people were in it. Hopefully not finishing with people in it. The wheels were still fine but the car had fallen down on itself, perhaps because the axle broke or melted or, I dunno, but it wasn’t good, and all the glass was broken, and I could smell the char as I walked by, and I thought, “hmm, I wonder how that car got parked the wrong way and then burned down” and then I mailed my letter. As I walked back through I let my grown-up mind take over and realized the car burned somewhere else, probably in a parking lot or on the side of a road or on a bridge (why do SO MANY cars here catch fire while they’re on a bridge? I don’t know, but it’s true) and then it was extinguished and the car was brought to my neighborhood because someone in my neighborhood owns that car so a tow truck parked it in the one spot it found, and since the tow truck would be travelling with the one-way traffic it put the burned out car, which was loaded onto the tow truck backwards in the first place, right?, onto the street so that an insurance adjuster and a police officer and the owner could evaluate it and the rest of us could wonder under what circumstances that car caught fire.

And suddenly my bad day just doesn’t seem so bad.

Please go read this post, it helps us put our bad stuff into perspective. My favorite line: “Everything is actually only around 8% as terrible as you think it is. Quote me.”

We find inspiration in random places sometimes. Yesterday I was greedily looking through my Facebook statuses for more FarmVille gifts (please don’t judge me for this, I used to hardcore garden in Vermont, and I cannot do so here really, so virtual is all I’ve got) and noticed my previous-blogger-but-now-Twitter-and-FB pal to the East, Frankie, posted the following status:

There’s no such thing as “impossible”. The word itself says “I’m Possible”.

Indeed.

Today I found this video on rickey.org of what was described as Indian pole gymnastics, correctly termed in the video as Mallakhamb:

Physics seems defied. I am astounded by the agility of men of differing shapes and sizes, and the complete abandon of laws of gravity by the boy at the end.

The next time you tell yourself something is “impossible” remember to change it to “I’m Possible”.

Which is to say: I know you can do it, just make sure to let yourself know too.

Some family news I kind of suspected since I was a kid was confirmed today. It’s sitting very uncomfortably with me. Its consequences are steep and far reaching. And that’s all I can say because it’s not my news to share. Suffice it to say, you’re just never prepared to hear bad news.

Things did not end well with me and the ex. I haven’t spoken to him in about two years. We just don’t see eye to eye on life, and he has no interest in being a positive part of my life. This also means that it has been three years since I’ve seen his family. I don’t really think about them much because they’re not mine anymore.

Isn’t that weird? I was in his life for 10 years and yet our inability to resolve our issues results in me losing the status of sister, daughter, cousin, niece, granddaughter to an entire family.

Some days that’s pretty overwhelming, particularly on the days when my boyfriend is invited to family functions by his ex’s family because they are still such good friends and he is still considered important to her family, although his title is Family Friend now instead of stepdad, brother, son, grandson, cousin, nephew.

Most of the time I just push my complete erasure from my ex’s family to the deep, dark, uncharted territories of my mind. And then something unexpected happens and I flash back.

Saturday night Dawg and I wanted to stay in and watch a movie on demand. We looked through the movies together and settled on Dear John. We knew we would cry through it, because it’s a tear-jerker. Minutes into the movie John meets Savannah. Minutes more into the movie the two are at a party together and Savannah introduces John to Allen, an autistic boy who is the son of Tim.

Triggering my flashback.

Allen was the biological four-year-old son of Hay’s aunt. The first time we met we fell in kid love. I loved his spirit, he loved that he could call me his girlfriend. Allen and I played for hours each time we saw each other. Allen looked exactly like the boy in the movie. And so I burst out crying because I realized that I had forgotten Allen ever existed.

Because I’m not allowed to be part of that family anymore. Or that boy’s life. And I never got to say goodbye to him, I just disappeared from his life.

And that was a choice I made, knowing the consequences.

sigh.

I recently learned that my personal self worth is directly related to my ability to trust others. In learning this fact I also was able to realize that, through every fault of my own, I allowed my self worth tank to become very depleted.

It’s really much easier to allow my self worth to become very low than it is to keep it maintained at a healthy level. And I know I’ve spent way more of my life allowing my self worth tank to run on low or empty than I have allowed it to be above 3/4 full.

But in order to maintain healthy, productive, growing, nurturing relationships with those around me I need to put in that effort for others, and most of all for myself, in believing that I am worthy to:

be loved
love
be trusted
trust
be my partner’s one and only
be faithful to my partner

To believe I don’t deserve happiness, to believe that those closest to me are really just around to hurt me, will result in them leaving me eventually. Because who the hell wants to live life walking on eggshells trying to figure out how not to upset me just because I haven’t done the work to keep my self worth at a stable level so that I don’t become a paranoid mess in the corner? And it will, in fact, be my fault that I pushed them away. Self sabotage. (boooooo hissssss)

What I’ve learned also about self worth is that it is very difficult to build my own self worth back up, but it’s a lot easier to build others’ self worth with my words. I really do need help from others to remind me of why I deserve good things in my life rather than bad. I normally don’t reach out for help from others, but then I feel so very isolated and perpetuate my feelings of unworthiness.

Soooooo, here’s the challenge: Fill up someone else’s self worth tank. Let’s say nice things about how awesome each other is so that we feel like our existence on this planet is not a waste of space, time, and energy. If you’re strong enough to say nice things about yourself, then do that too.

You can say it in a comment here, you can write your own post, you can make a vlog, you can email the person, you can write tweets, you can post photos, you can change your Facebook status or write on someone’s wall. You could even call someone or write them a letter or show up at their house, I suppose.

And if you really need some self worth but you’re having trouble building it for yourself please reach out and ask for help.

And if this is a big flop and nobody does it then that’s gonna suck donkey balls but I’ll find other ways to increase my self worth on my own, such as: sending myself a gift basket, sending myself flowers, getting my hair done, getting a hot stone massage, cooking an incredible dinner and enjoying every bite, hanging out in a kitten pile (with maybe a Dawggy thrown in ;) on the bed, writing my thoughts and dreams and aspirations in my own actual handwriting on lined paper, telling myself “I love you” in the mirror.

I was going to write this lame post about college essay topics I read about on CNN, how some college students are actually being admitted to their dream school for their answer to the question “How do you feel about Wednesdays?” but I’ve decided not to do that.

When a bad thought comes into your mind how hard do you work to get it out of your head?

Have you ever considered letting it hang out in there, develop, flourish, bloom, expand and explore the depths of your creative mind, just to see where it takes you?

I do this. A lot.

I let myself process events that I have experienced, others that I only know about second hand, still others that I have no proof are even remotely close to reality, and ones that I know for certain with actual evidential facts aren’t the truth.

Why do I do this? Because it prepares me for when the shit hits the motherfucking fan.

No shit has hit any fans, people. I’m just… practicing for if/when it does. It’s what I do. Because I’m crazy. And I like me crazy. So… we stay crazy up in here.

I will very soon be blogging on a much more regular basis but for now I’ll dump my brain onto you.

Happy birthday, Vahid!

On the way to work this morning I almost finished the book I was reading. Rather than being able to enjoy another book down I was sad that I would no longer be in its world. It wasn’t a great book, moved between tenses, both historically and pronounally, too frequently for my taste. When I finally told myself to just please get over this I found the ending to be the best part of the book and was really glad I stopped letting my eyes scan the page as I lamented the book’s passing.

At work I learned that Chris Livingston passed away. I don’t know him and I don’t know what happened, but a lot of people I care about knew him and were very sad because of his passing, and I truly feel sad for my friends because they hurt in a way that I cannot help them not hurt. I can just sit by and say sorry.

Speaking of friends… I was all complainy last week that everyone pulled away from me after Avitaweekend, that no one seems to care about me anymore wah wah wah except a select few people. And then I realized I equally pulled away from everyone who was there and our culpability is shared. So, hi friends. I miss you and am thinking about you a lot even though we don’t get to hang out and party and eat meals and joke about whatever enters our minds.

And there are other friends who weren’t at the party who I felt were slipping away: One, I think, is trying to get me to be the bad guy and break ties. One wants me to be in her life but lunchtime is a very tough time for me to hang out (hi :). One I accused of ditching me but she didn’t and then I got busy and stopped writing her. After I write this post I’m going to respond again because I have stuff to say. Oh, and one friend told me something I wasn’t ready to hear and can’t quite reciprocate, for reasons that go far deeper than anything between us. I just have my trust issues and I try as hard as I can to offer as much trust as I can, but the end result is… a lopsided friendship with people. It’s the best I can do. I hope you continue to love me anyway. And then there’s this other friend who hangs out with me and is awesome and gets cupcakes with me and then she asks me how the cupcakes are and I tell her “I had one, it was ok.” heh. This amuses only me, doesn’t it. I love that I can be honest with her, is my point.

Back to today.

On the way home the same man was on the 4:45pm train as had been on that train Friday. He yells at the top of his lungs, “IF YOU LOVE YOUR FAMILY YOU’LL GIVE ME MONEY *pointing his fucking STARBUCKS cup at you* YOU DON’T LOVE YOUR FAMILY?! YOU HATE YOUR FAMILY?! WHEN THEY DIE YOU WON’T CARE, YOU WON’T LOVE THEM! YOU DON’T LOVE YOUR FAMILY ENOUGH TO GIVE ME A PENNY *throwing a penny at an unsuspecting bench sitter* TAKE THE PENNY, I DON’T WANT IT, YOU FAMILY HATER!” It scares the shit out of some people, but even when he is standing directly behind me screaming his diatribe all I’m thinking is “I really should start screaming, ‘if you love your families you WON’T give me ANY money because you’ll save it for THEM and put food on THEIR table instead of THIS Starbucks fake motherfucker! What, WHAT!’” but I just smile and chuckle and keep it to myself and guard the scared people with my body. It’s what I do. I just don’t have appropriate fear levels for given situations, I’ve concluded.

And directly after Repeat Man we got a new lady charging through the car not holding onto anything screaming that she didn’t want any money, “no pennies, no nickels, no quarters, no dollars” (guess dimes don’t exist in Crazy Town) but that Jesus hates us. Which reminded me that my favorite word for today that I made up but probably already exists is Jeez-ass, which I wrote to Partner in Crime in response to some message he sent me about the sad state of affairs back home within our common location. Cryptic much, yup. But … Jeez-ass! Isn’t that lovely? It is.

It was a rare occasion tonight. Because I was going to the store I chose to turn off my music and walk from the train to the store, listening instead to the sounds of the city so that I would remember to go to the store. When I took out my earbuds I was still riding the last leg of the train and I was reminded why I love the train so much. Perfectly quiet humans listening with me to the soothing sound of the train.

In the store a woman didn’t realize she was blocking the entrance to the store and the hand carts. When she realized she was doing this she scooted herself to the side to let a soldier in his desert fatigues pass by then she stood up and handed me a hand cart. I was so surprised, I burst out laughing, smiled, and said thank you. And then I heard her continue her conversation en español and wished I had at least “graciad” in return. (No s’s. Gracia.)

On the way home I watched a little girl in a tiny little dress and coat skipping along next to her mom while she sang Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi at the top of her lungs. Cutest version EVAR. I laughed out loud.

A little further along my path home 3 teenagers were spanning the entire width of the double-wide sidewalk. I was walking with no earphones toward them with three grocery shopping bags chock full of heavy items and my work bag slung over my shoulder. I slowed down a little bit, but they parted just enough for me to turn sideways through, and as I did one of them dared to test out his manlihood on me by saying, “heeeeeey, Miss [inaudible].” He couldn’t quite keep that courage level going as I pushed through him and his friend to continue on my way. I… think I might possibly be intimidating. In Vermont the only men who cat call at you are your friends. In New York City you’re not A Real Man if you don’t cat call by 12. It’s an interesting culture difference. I wish I had said something like, “nice try, we’ll give it another go on Tuesday *wink*” or something funny but I just spent a little too long trying to decipher what he had said after “Miss”. It sounded like Hershey, but we all know I’m not Hershey. I’m all vanilla and stuff.

The word count was at 1179 before this line. I think that’s pretty good. Can’t wait to see you all more consistently again. :)

PS – Ripley says hi!

My aunt and uncle rarely send me emails, so when they do send me one, even if it’s spammy, I read it. All the way through. Makes me feel closer to them. I love them very much, they provide sound life advice, and I believe two things in my heart:

Say what you want about the title, but read it to the end.

Women have strengths that amaze men…..

IT IS THAT THEY FORGET THEIR WORTH.

Yes, I’m now a geriatric chainmailer, bite me. But I love what my aunt and uncle did for my heart today. <3

I was once told by someone who was supposed to love me unconditionally (but didn’t, couldn’t) that I was not supposed to think I am awesome or say out loud that I am awesome, that was his job. Thankfully, by the time he told me this I’d already decided we just weren’t right for each other and we’d be better off going our separate ways, better off for everyone involved. I can only hope he’s met some other women since our time together who know they’re as awesome as I generally tend to think I am so that he understands a strong minded woman isn’t a threat and isn’t something to beat down until she hates herself for loving you.

But my point is that it’s hard for me to have a day where I don’t think I’m awesome because it makes me feel like I’ve had a maaaaaaajor setback.

I can’t go back to that place I was at, hating myself every day and generally feeling not good enough. I won’t let me. And thanks to everyone who helped me through that day because I truly do appreciate you for doing that. I might be all Beyoncé independent, throwin’ my hands up at ya, but I still need my friends when I feel low. So, awesome job everyone who helped me through, you rock.

To show my gratification I offer you my Chinese Mexican half-black bean, half-chili nachos with extra jalapeño peppers. NOM!

I normally like and love myself, think I’m awesome with chips firmly planted on the side and even a pickle.

Today I looked at myself in the mirror after putting on my cute outfit and said, “I love you.” And the depressed foggy cloud feeling entered my brain. Oh no. “Pull your shit together, you have to love yourself. It’s a rule! I LOVE YOU! … oh, I don’t love you today. Wow. Ok, ok, no, I do love you. Wow. I love you? I love you! I love you! I … feh.”

I’m not sure what’s going on, but I have been having a lot of bad dreams since returning from Florida. A LOT. They scare the fucking shit out of me. They’re hurtful to me personally and always involve people I care about intentionally betraying me, or betraying me and I’m not even a thought in their mind about betraying.

I really don’t know where this is coming from.

And, of course, something happened today where I went from somewhat stable in emotions — ok, so you don’t really like yourself today but there’s always tomorrow — to me screaming at the man I love, things that I never ever wanted to scream at him.

And he still loves me. I don’t know why or how. I’ve never been loved so unconditionally by a man before. It’s hard to accept this. It’s wonderful, but it makes me feel so much shame to act so immaturely to him. I get so mad at myself for taking out my insecurities on him.

And then tonight Mama Dawg said to me “you have a lot of issues!” when I told her how I used to have a stuffed toy eggplant as a kid so now it’s hard for me to eat eggplant.

And I do.

I feel so strong and then… so low. I just was hoping to feel my strength as a woman, as a person, as a pillar of strength. But I don’t feel that today.

I’m just saying it so I don’t forget to love myself again.

Yo, Popstar: I love you!