Addicted

Speaking of boyfriends...
I had this boyfriend in jr. high. Lot's of strange things happened with him & I but he was especially concerned about my Tylenol addiction.
You see, apparently I took to much Tylenol. He was so concerned that he called my house and told my parents that he was concerned I was going to OD on it.
Now I could totally see that as a plausible call to make if I was taking you know crack or something. But I wasn't, I was taking TYLENOL. I think this was even before there was the big hullabaloo about it being hard on your stomach.

So I did what any 8th grade girl would do when her boyfriend was concerned about her well being. I went to the farm market (that also sold bulk candy) I sometimes worked at one afternoon and bought a crap ton of Good N Plenty's. The purple and white kind.
Then I came home and emptied a bottle of Tylenol that we had in the medicine cabinet and filled it up with only the white Good N Plenty's.

I went to school and waited for the right moment. Finally it arrived. I complained sporadically throughout the day of a headache and finally when boyfriend was near me I complained again and said I needed some Tylenol.
So I pull out the Tylenol bottle filled with white Good N Plenty's and I popped the cap off. Looking right at boyfriend I lifted the bottle to my mouth and poured every single last Good N Plenty into my mouth and chewed them up like the addict I was.

We broke up shortly after that...I can't say that it was related (no really) it had more to do with me moving on to 9th grade (High School!) and him staying behind in jr. high. Yep, I went for younger boys most of the time, at least back then.

The Hat

I was pretty boy crazy when I was young. It all started in 4th grade when I got to wear Roger's hat. Wearing boys hat was a big deal.
But it didn't work out. In a fit of breakup rage I threw his hat away in the classroom garbage can. My teacher, Mr. Branstrator found it and held it up in front of the whole class. He said, "Who threw away this perfectly good hat?" No one said anything, certainly not me. I was just hoping he would let it go and we could play 'What's Up 7-Up'
But he didn't. He flipped it over and over in his hands trying to figure out why someone would throw away this perfectly good hat. (Obviously Mr. Branstrator had never been dumped).
Then he saw it....the letters I had written in sharpie marker inside the hat. BL+RG. Except he read them as BLTRG. So he started asking the whole class what BLTRG meant. I swear this went on for hours and hours.
It was probably only like 5 minutes though.
No one admitted it and he set it on his desk and moved on to long division (I HATED long division). I burned with humiliation. Roger had been looking at me the whole time. So I tried to glare back at him, but I just ended up crying.

It was awful. A few weeks later the progress reports were sent home to parents. Mine said that I was finally starting to come out of my shell (I used to be really really shy...I know! I'll wait for you to stop laughing) it also said that I was dotting my i's and j's with hearts. He asked my parents to tell me to stop being so cutesy and just write normal.
I knew. I KNEW that it was code for, "I know it was you that threw that hat away."

The next year we went on to middle school, another building and the bottom of the totem pole. We had to change classes and we had our own lockers for the first time ever. I had new friends since my elementary school best friend had moved to the next town over. But Roger was still there. I found out that his sisters name was Barbie and tried to mock him by asking how his brother Ken was; turns out his brothers name was actually Ken...whoops.
The last interaction I remember having with Roger is later that year in 5th grade. I was kneeling in front of my locker getting my history book out of the bottom when I heard him coming down the hall and he was making fun of me. I didn't look up, I refused to look up. So I didn't see it coming when he slammed my head into my locker and tried to close the door on it. I just froze, thinking if I stayed still it would all be fine.
It was, the bell rang and he ran along. I went to class and then went home and told my mom what happened.
She got pretty mad and the next day I was walking to gym when I thought I heard her voice. I paused in the hall and listened. Coming from the principals office was the unmistakable voice of my mom in her angry mode. Roger didn't so much as talk to me after that. I think he graduated with us years later but heck if I know.

But breaking up is really hard to do.

Flood Saga: Almost the End

There has been A LOT going on lately. There was the flood of course. The saga didn't end when the water stopped pouring through the basement ceiling.

I worked with the insurance agents and was able to get everything settled.
There was all new carpet put in the basement:

You might not be able to tell but it's a light brownish frieze and it was installed in all of the basement, basement hall, on the stairs and the garage entry. It's so lovely on my feet! So much better than the white berber and the gray super heavy duty but super stained carpet that was down there before.
They also replaced the linoleum in the laundry, upstairs hall and basement bath. I just realized I didn't have any pictures of that...so pretend they're right here.

(right here)

They look really nice and I'll be able to show you them when I talk about those 3 rooms being completely done, which the laundry room mostly is it is just a catch all for the junk that's been displaced at the moment.
Allstate also sent me a check to pay for a replacement door for the basement bath, a dry wall repair in the upstairs bath, new ceiling tile and other random things.
Somewhere along the way Dad and I decided that since we have to replace the toilet and some of the drywall in the upstairs bath why don't we just redo the entire bath. So I did.
First we removed everything from the bathroom and demo'd the drywall. I learned an important lesson; the stuff on the other side of the stud is the wall of the hallway and bedroom and should NOT be hit with a hammer or it will crack. Whoops. Repair please!

The same weekend we demo'd the drywall we thought it would be a good idea to buy ceiling tile, so we did that too. Again, no pictures...pretend it's right here:

(right here)

Finally, the bathroom was empty and ready for drywall, well at least once the shower head was raised and the plumbing/electrical issues were addressed:

I went to Lowe's a week or so later with Pete and a budget of $1000 or less in mind.
I barely made it:

I bought the sink, vanity, mirror, exhaust, drywall, drywall mud, screws, tape, and I think that's it. I also bought 2 doors, door handles and more stuff I can't think of, oh and I rented a huge truck to drive it all home in.

Also, by barely I mean $7 under budget. Well, at least I was under budget until these guys made me go back to Home Depot and get 2X4's and other random things. The nerve! Pete was in town for the weekend and he was cutting the ceiling tile and getting it all into place while I organized and purged. He also went on a seemingly hopeless hunt for a 10" rough in toilet. (Which I found at a specialty store a block from my office).

That same weekend Charlie (the kneeling fella in the picture above) came over and helped to install all the drywall in my bathroom. Only apparently I took to much drywall off and didn't leave any to support the tile surround. So Charlie had to basically build a secondary frame around my bathroom to fix the error, hence the 2X4's.

These guys were my heroes that day. I would have been in the fetal position crying long before I did had they not been there to help.

I told them not to worry about the living room/dining room carpet since it was getting ripped up anyway. They sure listened to me!

But finally the bathroom was drywalled and it was time to tape, mud, and sand the drywall. So I put on my uniform:

Then Pete and I got it done:

After that weekend when I worked Pete to death (and I might have cried a lot more than needed about a house renovation) we decided we had earned ourselves some Acapulco. So Sunday night we headed towards a mexicoma. I asked the waiter for a Dos Equis and he asked, short or tall. I asked him what size was what and he said short was 12oz and tall was well....tall.

So, thinking the tall was 22oz maybe I ordered that. It was not 22oz, maybe 40oz, but not 22:

The same weekend that Pete was here we took a break from working on the house and went to Quaker Steak with his friend Dave on Friday (the same day we drywalled) and drank copious amounts of beer and sat for 5 hours people watching and chatting. Then Saturday afternoon we went to the Freedom Center with Dan and Sarah followed by dinner at Rock Bottom Brewery. Where I had a sampler platter...of beer.

So to recap, a LOT has happened to my house in the last few months and I drank copious amounts of beer in one weekend. This week I'm living in La Quinta (Spanish for I stay in hotels with cats and have awkward interactions with night desk managers) while they rip out the upstairs carpet and re-finish my hardwood floors. Oh, and the insurance is paying for that, huzzah!

Stay tuned for Flood Saga: The End. Hopefully coming soon to a blog near you.

Avoiding the Ick

I try to avoid the ick at all costs. The problem is, I'm surrounded by it.
Friendships that are disintegrating, relationships that are strained, money issues, leadership issues, work drama and the list goes on.

My old comfortable habit is to sweep the ick under the rug then stomp on it a few times so it's not lumpy. I worked hard at perfecting an air of "I don't care".
But it's just so icky sometimes.

My stomach hurts, my heart hurts, trying to shovel the ick under the carpets doesn't seem to work anymore but then I don't know what else to do.
So I read the email, I listen to her talk, I take deep breaths and try not to shovel the ick. I try to look at it, pray about it, process it and then reassess if there's a way to deal with it other then shoveling it under the carpet.

But still, I just feel icky about it; wishing people would just shape up and do the right thing, say the right thing, stop acting the way they do. I wish some people would understand why certain decisions were made before the email has to be sent, I wish other people didn't have to deal with someone that doesn't think at all.

I like to think that life was easier when I could avoid the ick, sweep it under the carpet and just look the other way. But it's not. The ick just shows up again and again, only when you've swept it so far under the carpet it tends to explode.

Speaking into the air

Being unmarried and non-dating has been on my mind and heart a lot lately. From the mostly funny to the serious to the wondering. I haven't talk about it much on here lately, because I'm not really sure what to say.

I'm beginning to suspect that maybe I'm supposed to be unmarried, non-dating for the foreseeable future. It's a hard thing to say to people because people are really invested in other people getting married, dating, making out etc etc. I joked a few weeks back that I was so boy crazy in and just post high school that I got it all out of my system so I could live the rest of my life in peace. But lately, lately I'm really beginning to wonder.

I wonder if I truly feel called to pursue a life of unmarried, non-dating living or if I am just so scared of unpacking my relational baggage. Then I think....haven't I been unpacking that baggage for a long time now?

I start to feel like I haven't really looked at it enough, the baggage. At the same time I'm thinking I'm picking at a thread that is as unraveled as it's going to get.

I go to a church that is primarily comprised of young married couples and young families. Sometimes, that's really hard for me. Even when it's hard I so believe in what my church is doing, what their mission is and the part God is clearly calling me to play in that mission that it's an easy choice to stay or go.

But it's still hard. Do you believe me when I tell you that both the hard and easy can exist at the exact same time? Because they do a lot for me.

Most of the time I can track with the relationship series, most of the time I can hang. But this time around I feel like I just can't do it, which I know is ok.

See the thing is, not everyone wants to be married. I don't. I know for sure that I don't, I'm simply (ha!) trying to figure out if I don't want to get married because I'm not supposed to or if it's because I'm hiding like a coward.

It frustrates me when there is no room made for the idea that a girl could want to just be on her own, unmarried, non-dating. That somehow the goal is to marry. The books, the sermons, the blogs about being a single Christian girl all end with the same thing...when will my husband show up. I'm fine (most of the time) with other people wanting that. But I feel sort of alone out here. I wonder if I'm so damaged in some way that I wouldn't want that too. So I search and search my heart...I pray, blog, journal, talk out loud to God and other people about it. All the same, wondering if there's something wrong with me. There are disclaimers on the sermons (from so many pastors, well meaning and kind) that relationship series can be applied to friendships and familial relationships (non-spousal), but I'm hard pressed to figure out what those are exactly.

People think it's because I haven't met the right man, some have asked if it's because I haven't met the right woman, others believe it's because I'm still hanging on to a man from the past.

Still others try to force e-harmony or match.com on me...because clearly if I just date for awhile I'll eventually shape up and settle down just like everyone else.

I wonder quite often what it is that is missing in me, this longing for a husband and partner. Because I do long. I long for a companion, someone to hang out with, someone to confide in, someone more....someone here and now in my everyday life. I do have them though. Lovely ladies and a handful of fellas that I love deeply and who love me too.

I long for a relationship in my city with someone that isn't held to a spouse and children; not because I think those are wrongfully prioritized, but because I think they are rightfully so. I would never ever ask a married friend to sacrifice their family or marriage to hang out with me, but sometimes it would be nice to have a spur of the moment friend to do silly inconsequential unimportant things with. One that doesn't require weeks of planning and coordinating when people are arriving in town by car or plane.
Someone asserted that what I'm longing for is a more intimate relationship with God, more of Jesus and His word. Probably, that does ebb and flow more than I would prefer. So still I wonder, I wrestle....is it for me, not for me....I just don't know...

I'm nervous you will think this is discounting you, the lovely lovely friends I adore that read this. Because I'm not discounting you. I feel lonely lately, but I have no idea what I feel lonely for. I sit and think and wonder if it is a husband and the answer is always no. So where does that leave me?

I think for now it leaves me couple skating with Jesus, waiting for....something, something that I can't quite explain to anyone yet let alone myself.

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
-1st Corinthians 13:12

So Long, Insecurity

I'm reading So Long, Insecurity by Beth Moore right now. I'm a 100% convert to the Beth Moore train. Not because I think she has all the answers all the time, but because God has used her in a mighty way yanking me out of some pits of thought and behavior I've been wallowing in that are just not good for me.
I read this today:

It's that rejection thing. There's nothing like it to make you obsessed with
someone you didn't even want

Man alive that one hurt.
Because it's totally true and well documented here, here, here, and here. I get so wrapped up in the obsession. I've proclaimed that it's over, that it ends today but then I slide right back into it. Because I just felt so rejected. Even though I did want him it should be done by now.

I have what feels like a huge issue with insecurity. It pops up time and time again while I run around pretending everything is alright. I spend so much time pretending that everything is under control, so much time working on being ok with...whatever. I don't ask for help because I don't think people really want to help me.
It's all very wearisome. Because it's just not true.
Then I start getting insecure about being insecure and that my friends is one vicious cycle.
This book is really good and really hard. I'm only on chapter 6, like page 87 or so out of about 350. I'm at once excited and terrified of what is to come.

Nothing elicits quicker concurrence on our part than feeling rejected. Our
equally deceptive agreement, with the original lie doubles the strength of the
bond, and through that betraying handshake, we find ourselves nodding. You are
so right...
I'm not worth wanting.
I'm not worth loving.
I'm not even worth liking.
I'm not worth pursuing.
I'm not worth fighting for.
I'm not worth keeping.
I'm not worth hiring.
I'm not even worth noticing.-pg 73

That last sentence, I mean I spend a lot of energy working on not being noticed. I simultaneously crave for people to notice and include me and desire nothing more than for a large bottomless hole to open up in the ground beneath me swallowing me whole and causing me to go unnoticed.
There are so many times that the attention, the noticing, is physically painful for me. When I'm noticed on terms other than my own self deprecating terms I get nauseous, sweaty and tearful. Because with noticing comes attention and with attention comes the loss of attention, affection, love.
Round and round I go, I'm getting really dizzy and am hoping to jump off this loop de loop soon. For now, I'm holding onto this.

I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with
you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. Isaiah 41:9-10

Vanish in the haze

I asked for help yesterday. I thought about it all day Saturday, all night, all the way to church in the morning. I made idle conversation, hemmed and hawed and finally just asked. For help.
The response was immediate and she even offered to recruit other people to help me. That was when I balked. Oh no no, I'm sure it will be fine actually never mind I can probably just manage....
But she wouldn't let me back out of my ask.
Then later Sharen asked me if I needed help moving into the hotel this afternoon. I hesitated, because after all, I could do it on my own. But I said sure and she and Matthew showed up to help me move all my stuff and two very ticked off kitties into the La Quinta.
She said, "I know you could do it on your own. But sometimes it's nice to have someone help you"
She's right. But I will disavow that I ever said that, because it's important to me to not need help. Too important most of the time. I'm trying to figure out why exactly.
Maybe it's because I think I'm strong enough, maybe it's the old nazi feminist in me. But more so I think it's the needing.
I hate to need; to feel needy. Mostly because when I need things they don't always show up. Yes yes I know...part of life is being disappointed and let down. But some days I can hardly breathe for the anticipation of being let down.
The rest of it though, is that I'm more afraid of the need being filled. That for a period, no matter how short or long, someone, or more than one someone, will come along and fill the need. Whatever that need may be. Then I'll get used to it. I grow accustomed to the helpful hand, the same constant shoulder, the same smiling face and voice of encouragement. Once I get used to it, what if it goes away? Then 'my independence might vanish into the haze'. Then what would I do?

I realize how silly it is to avoid a thing to avoid the ending of the thing. But well...most of the time I can't help myself. Sometimes the fear is so paralyzing that I end up sweating and getting nauseous so badly that I couldn't ask for help if I tried. Although I think I'm going to start trying. I have no idea what that's going to look like, but I'm going to ask for help more.
Because I know how much it means to me to be able to help people and I figure it might mean something to people to be able to help me. Now if I can just convince that silly self esteem of mine to believe that too...

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.