The New Guy

It's been four weeks and he's told his parents about me, so I guess I'm officially dating Mr. Random. I like spending time with him; he's funny and fun and warm. He has theories on life and relationships that keep me on my toes. So far these theories range from why men ask women to dance (to establish trust between the partners) to the recipe for a relationship (a solid base of friendship, several cups of laughter, four to five gallons of physical attraction, and enough time to bring it all together).

He was at my house yesterday when his mom called to tell him his grandfather had passed away. He's hurting, and I'm hurting for him. The funeral will be about four hours away, and I'm not sure if we're at the point where I should attend. I care about him a lot, and I hate the idea of the him making that drive alone. We share so many things about our lives, but being together when he got the news brought a new level of intimacy to the relationship and I'm not sure of my footing. I want to help, but I don't want to push. I want to give him space, but I want to be supportive. It's a balancing act, and I'm not the most graceful person under the best of circumstances.

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time

After the insanity of the last several months, I am actually looking forward to Christmas. Mom and dad are flirting with the idea of reconciliation, my brother is in love and facing life as an adult, and I'm genuinely happy. Things aren't perfect, but who needs boring old perfection, anyway? I have a great job, amazing friends, my own little house, and presents under the tree.

I'm not concerned with the presents I'll unwrap tomorrow morning. I'm more fixated on putting my new attitude to work when I'm with my family tonight. My insecurity often holds me back from them, and I've realized that I can seem snobby. My cousins may not ever be my best friends, but they really should get to see the real me rather than the girl who hides. This is my Christmas goal.

I'll leave work around noon today and I won't return until January 4th. I am looking forward to this recharging time, but I'm also eagerly anticipating the plans I've made. Tonight is the Christmas party for mom's family, tomorrow is dad's crew as well as our nuclear family Christmas. Early next week is a gift exchange with my dearest local friends, and I have an exciting evening planned for New Year's Eve. I'll be honest - that last one has me all in a tizzy. I have a date. He's someone I met on my latest foray into the online pool and, wow, the water is warm. It's new, but I can honestly say I'm excited about him. Being with him is easy. There's no stress, no worry, just an honest enjoyment of being together.

For all of my complaints of roller coasters and buckets of tears, 2009 has been a pretty good year. Ugh. I'm rhyming. Hate it when that happens. Anyway - I salute you, third decade of my life, and I can't wait to see what 2010 brings.

What's with all the water metaphors?

Oh, little blog, precious little nugget of loin fruit. How I've missed you. I've been avoiding posting here. In part because there is nothing new to say about my family insanity and in part because I've been afraid to post about one part of my life because I didn't want to hurt a certain reader. You know who you are, and I'm sorry if any of this stings. However, I've come to the conclusion that I need to be honest and authentic here, otherwise, I might as well delete the page and pretend BlinkBlink never existed.

S and I broke up - anyone who reads this blog knows that. We had our reasons, and the fact that we wanted different things from life is a biggie. Another reason, though, is that I didn't feel valued by S. I know he loved me, but he didn't love me the way I want to be loved. I didn't feel like I was a priority in his life. Therapy has helped me see that. And as I said one day on the doctor's couch, "I don't always feel valued by my mother. I'm sure as hell going to feel like I'm valuable to the person I spend the rest of my life with!" S didn't do anything wrong - we just didn't mesh on all the right levels in the end. I don't want to sound clinical, but I learned a lot from my time with him. I guess with each relationship, you learn more about what you want in the relationship.

I've decided to wade back in to the dating pool, and I'm trying to move slowly. I know how fickle the water can be.

Thanksgiving

I'm thankful for my own little house - my port in the storm. I'm thankful for my friends, my therapist, and even my fucked up family. I'm thankful this day is almost over.

Hope Springs Eternal

I'm in therapy for the third time in my life. Therapist #1 was convinced my mother was the root of my problems and didn't address the underlying depression that tempted me to drive my car off of a bridge. Therapist #2 had good insight, but was inexperienced and not clinically trained. After our sessions, I left her office tired and slightly weighed down by all the thoughts bouncing around in my brain. She left the practice a couple of months after I started seeing her and I decided not to see another person in the office. Therapist #3 has his PhD and specializes in Medical Psychological Consulting. He's interested in the root problems rather than treating the symptoms. I leave his office feeling lighter than when I went in. I'm less angry, less scared, and a lot more hopeful.

I have a new song I want to cling to: I Hope by the Dixie Chicks.
There must be a way to change what's going on
No, I don't have all the answers, but
I hope - For more love, more joy and laughter
I hope you'll have more than you'll ever need
I hope - There'll be more happy ever afters
I hope - We can all live more fearlessly
And we can lose all the pain and misery

I want to cling to hope. I want to change so many things. I want joy.

Heads or Tails?

For my parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I collected quarters from each of the 25 years they had been married and created a custom art piece for them. Dad loved it. He raved about the creativity and thoughtfulness it exhibited to his friends and colleagues. Apparently, the number twenty-five stuck with him more permanently than the marriage it represented. My father has been having an affair for over a year with a woman who was born when he was twenty-five. She is my age. After going home last night and telling mom he wanted to try to work on things, tonight he revealed the affair.

I'm angry. So very, very angry. This man is not my father. This is not the man who raised me.

Light

I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but dad moved back in last night. He and mom are going to try to work on things.