Over Christmas, I was in Ft. Lauderdale. It was definitely crowded. My parents have a condo in a retirement community, which is nice, but *everyone* seemed to be there. At one point, for Christmas breakfast, 20 people were there in various states of feasting. But normally the group was mom, step-dad, cousin, niece, granddad, great grand aunt, me.
I made dinner and started on the dishes, but my step-dad always stops me and offers to do them. He hates cooking, but loves eating and cleaning. This is a great relationship. I looked at how much of my family was there. Five generations: ages 7, 28, 31, 54, 57, 87, and 107.
Tante Anna's 107 and a wise lady. Small but with a big personality. She was born and raised in Port-au-Prince, Haiti MANY years ago. She moved to the US in her 20s and became a nurse. She's one of the people who exemplify that Caribbean ethic of education and career.
She lived in Brooklyn until she was 103, still shuffling around to local grocers, trying to find the best prices on grapes and mangoes. Honestly, she wanted to stay in New York until she died, but her son wanted to bring her closer to him. When he was in his 70s, he and his wife went to Brooklyn and essentially "kidnapped" her to bring her down to Tampa. You can't believe how pissed she was about it. Her son died 2 years later. So, at 105, she's started aging. I know New York can crush you, but after 70 years you figure it out and living in some sprawling community outside of Tampa with your daughter-in-law is a new kind of torture you never thought of.
She asked about my life: work, play, friends, love-life, hobbies. I told her about about it all. I'll be open with the reader:
I had a friend. There's not a different word for it, but she was a good friend. She wanted more than I could offer and I told her I couldn't offer it. I think it's because I didn't want to offer it to *her*. I'm not 100% certain why, but I also think I don't want to offer it to anyone for the time being. She fired me from being her friend. I suppose my lack of wanting anything serious to develop with her was a big part of that, but also I didn't want what I thought she wanted. That's how it'll have to be.
Here's an epiphany: Sometimes I'm an asshole. Sometimes I'm not easy to deal with, but will try to examine the situation openly and honestly with minimal avoidance of hard truths.
Here's another epiphany: I'm a moron for creating and involving myself in this mess in the first place. As much as I can be explicit, sometimes being honest verbally and having physical relationships can be confusing. Do as I say and not as I do? I'm clear on which should be my actions in the future. But that's the future, not the past and I can't go back to that.
Final epiphany: yup, still an asshole, kinda. But I'm an asshole who's trying to do better.
I've seen a couple of ladies who are interesting, smart, and nice. Do I want any of them to be my girlfriend? I don't know. I'm spending time with them because I enjoy the time we're having. If it's drinks and talking, dancing and making out, walking the streets of DC looking for a good cup of coffee, enjoying street performers until the cold becomes too much - it's all good.
I'm pacing myself because I've had a tendency my whole life to jump into things whole-hog. The results have always been a mixed bag.
My last long relationship I was in it as deep as I could be and the destruction of it kind of ruined my life for a while. I couldn't focus. I got anxiety attacks. I would be sitting at my desk, heart racing 160 BPMs, thinking it was going to explode from my rib-cage. The fear of your body fleeing itself is terrifying. Sitting on a toilet with your pants on, timing your heart is not the way to live.
Then a miracle happened: A friend gave me her psychiatrists phone number. I called on a Saturday to an emergency line, fearing that Monday would come and I would be stuck in my typhoon of adrenaline and fear. She called back *that day* and told me to come in Sunday. I went in hoping for the best and got it. She prescribed me Klonopin and explained that anxiety attacks are your body flooding adrenaline through your system in a prehistoric fight or flight mechanism that causes fear, then dread, and stops on anxiety attacks that feel like your heart is exploding. Klonopin reroutes that flood. I took one and it was like the world became normal again. Like that U2 song, Miracle Drug?
There is euphoria in normalcy.
I called her to ask when I should come in for an appointment and she told me, to paraphrase: I don't do those archaeological digs. You had a cold and I cured the cough. She told me to keep one in my pocket until I didn't need too. As of Thanksgiving, I haven't needed to keep one my pocket. I'm back to myself and it feels fantastic.
But my grand-aunt enlightened me simply: You'll meet someone who's good for one dance, but you have to be happy with yourself for your life.
All of these things: the good and the bad, the unexpected and the routine are all things that I've been trying to find balance with. I've got focus back. I've got the things I care about in my field of vision: family, friends, career, education, hobby - life. The big struggle is always present and there are still things unfinished, but I'll always be trying. With hard work, good help, and some luck, I'll keep doing better and will continue to be happy with myself.
The grace is in the trying. Like Leonard Cohen said, "that's where the light shines through."
Tante Anna's 107 and a wise lady. Small but with a big personality. She was born and raised in Port-au-Prince, Haiti MANY years ago. She moved to the US in her 20s and became a nurse. She's one of the people who exemplify that Caribbean ethic of education and career.
She lived in Brooklyn until she was 103, still shuffling around to local grocers, trying to find the best prices on grapes and mangoes. Honestly, she wanted to stay in New York until she died, but her son wanted to bring her closer to him. When he was in his 70s, he and his wife went to Brooklyn and essentially "kidnapped" her to bring her down to Tampa. You can't believe how pissed she was about it. Her son died 2 years later. So, at 105, she's started aging. I know New York can crush you, but after 70 years you figure it out and living in some sprawling community outside of Tampa with your daughter-in-law is a new kind of torture you never thought of.
She asked about my life: work, play, friends, love-life, hobbies. I told her about about it all. I'll be open with the reader:
I had a friend. There's not a different word for it, but she was a good friend. She wanted more than I could offer and I told her I couldn't offer it. I think it's because I didn't want to offer it to *her*. I'm not 100% certain why, but I also think I don't want to offer it to anyone for the time being. She fired me from being her friend. I suppose my lack of wanting anything serious to develop with her was a big part of that, but also I didn't want what I thought she wanted. That's how it'll have to be.
Here's an epiphany: Sometimes I'm an asshole. Sometimes I'm not easy to deal with, but will try to examine the situation openly and honestly with minimal avoidance of hard truths.
Here's another epiphany: I'm a moron for creating and involving myself in this mess in the first place. As much as I can be explicit, sometimes being honest verbally and having physical relationships can be confusing. Do as I say and not as I do? I'm clear on which should be my actions in the future. But that's the future, not the past and I can't go back to that.
Final epiphany: yup, still an asshole, kinda. But I'm an asshole who's trying to do better.
I've seen a couple of ladies who are interesting, smart, and nice. Do I want any of them to be my girlfriend? I don't know. I'm spending time with them because I enjoy the time we're having. If it's drinks and talking, dancing and making out, walking the streets of DC looking for a good cup of coffee, enjoying street performers until the cold becomes too much - it's all good.
I'm pacing myself because I've had a tendency my whole life to jump into things whole-hog. The results have always been a mixed bag.
My last long relationship I was in it as deep as I could be and the destruction of it kind of ruined my life for a while. I couldn't focus. I got anxiety attacks. I would be sitting at my desk, heart racing 160 BPMs, thinking it was going to explode from my rib-cage. The fear of your body fleeing itself is terrifying. Sitting on a toilet with your pants on, timing your heart is not the way to live.
Then a miracle happened: A friend gave me her psychiatrists phone number. I called on a Saturday to an emergency line, fearing that Monday would come and I would be stuck in my typhoon of adrenaline and fear. She called back *that day* and told me to come in Sunday. I went in hoping for the best and got it. She prescribed me Klonopin and explained that anxiety attacks are your body flooding adrenaline through your system in a prehistoric fight or flight mechanism that causes fear, then dread, and stops on anxiety attacks that feel like your heart is exploding. Klonopin reroutes that flood. I took one and it was like the world became normal again. Like that U2 song, Miracle Drug?
There is euphoria in normalcy.
I called her to ask when I should come in for an appointment and she told me, to paraphrase: I don't do those archaeological digs. You had a cold and I cured the cough. She told me to keep one in my pocket until I didn't need too. As of Thanksgiving, I haven't needed to keep one my pocket. I'm back to myself and it feels fantastic.
But my grand-aunt enlightened me simply: You'll meet someone who's good for one dance, but you have to be happy with yourself for your life.
All of these things: the good and the bad, the unexpected and the routine are all things that I've been trying to find balance with. I've got focus back. I've got the things I care about in my field of vision: family, friends, career, education, hobby - life. The big struggle is always present and there are still things unfinished, but I'll always be trying. With hard work, good help, and some luck, I'll keep doing better and will continue to be happy with myself.
The grace is in the trying. Like Leonard Cohen said, "that's where the light shines through."
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