The conversations we hold in our heads

I hold conversations with other people in my head. I'm pretty certain that other people do this too. Do you? But here's the thing: I do it a lot. And I really only do it when I'm feeling angry or upset or hurt. I don't rehearse impending conversations about good things, but I find myself repeatedly holding full conversations about bad things up in this brain of mine.

 I need to stop and think about why I do this, and I need to come up with a mechanism to catch myself in the act and let it go. 

Oh yeah, and for those of you who are wondering, today's post is inspired by Brene Brown, an amazingly intuitive woman who puts a lot of things into words that I wish I had the eloquence to say myself. 

 Here's what she said this morning:
 
I know I'm putting on my vulnerability armor when I start rehearsing the really mean things I'd like to say to someone. Those pretend conversations are my red flag.

Brene wrote an eye-opening book called "The Gifts of Imperfection" which I'm about halfway through.  I read a ton of books each year but only a handful fall into the self-help genre. When I find an author who blows me away, however, I'll gladly pick up one or two of their books and see what sorts of insights are ready to speak to me.  

"The Gifts of Imperfection" is all about allowing yourself to be authentic, and knowing that that's good enough and indeed, is the only thing that is good enough. I personally don't struggle with the pefectionism aspect of finding your authentic self (I instead practice good-enoughism), but there are other places in my life where I struggle to show my authentic self and understand that it's enough, it's powerful, and it's the only thing that will really help me to connect with other people.

But I digress.

So these conversations I hold in my head, I can rule out a lot of reasons for holding them. 

• I don't think its social anxiety. It's not like I'm scared to talk to people and practicing puts me at ease.
• I don't think its Monday morning quarterbacking. I'm not replaying conversations from the past and trying to make them come out better.
• It's not even my biggest suspect - rehearsing an awkward or difficult conversation that I want to have with a friend or loved one. That would at least make sense -- the need to practice something I intend to say. "Hey friend, we've been drifting apart and I don't like it. What can we do to fix it? I miss you."  

So what is it, then? Have any of you out there thought of WHY we do this?

Here's what I think: I use these conversations as a mechanism to feel my anger, work through it, get it out, and at the same time, not take it out on the other person.  

Note that this really only works when you recognize you're upset about something that's within your power to address and solve yourself. So it's usually something I've blown out of proportion (shocking!) and, in holding the conversation with the other person in my head, I can work through some things I'd like to say and .... after saying them, then saying other things, then running through various scenarios in my head  ... come to realize the real-life conversation probably doesn't need to take place. Instead, my perspective needs to shift. 

And that's a good thing.

So maybe these conversations are just another mechanism for working on my own issues. It still doesn't mean that I like them -- I don't really. Because the conversations in my head make me feel bad, defensive, accusatory, and that's just not the type of person I want to be. I want to be the person who gives the benefit of the doubt, who sees the best in others, who others see as a giving person, who is slow to anger and quick to laugh.

This may sound like a silly or trite analogy, but I want to treat everyone the way I treat the oldest members of my family.  Both my grandparents passed a few years ago, but I have memories I'll take with me to my own dying day. And I gave them the love, the patience, and the acceptance that was in me to give. And giving it was SO easy. There was no judgment, no scoffing, no I'm-right-you're-wrong. It was just pure pleasure, pure love, and no expectations.

I want to be that way with everyone in my life.   



 

 

The (red) pen is mightier than the sword

Last night, I was talking on the phone with my sister, catching up on the news of the day and filling each other in what's been going on in our worlds. We do this pretty regularly, since both of us have a lot going on these days. She's been apartment hunting while I've been job hunting, and we've come to find the two hunts are surprisingly similar in their ups and downs and in how we approach things.

The conversation falls to the side project I've been working on, which is editing a novel. My mom has been retired for a few years now and one of her passions has always been writing. She wrote a lot of children's stories when we were small, but didn't have a lot of time to write longer stories during her career as a teacher. Since retiring, she's taken up writing again and has finished her first full-length novel. She passed it over to me to edit it and get it ready for publication, so I've been working on that on and off for the past few months.

I was explaining the process I've been following while editing, and my sister asked "so how did you come up with that process in the first place?" And it seems like such a simple question, but it really made me stop and think. 

Because in a nutshell, what she was really asking was "how did you learn to do what you are doing?" And I don't have a good answer for that. Not all writers are editors, not all editors are writers, but some of us really like both. Writing is fun because it's creative and it's a great outlet for an introvert like me. Editing is fun because you get to slash and burn the works of others. (Sorry Mom, but it's true.)

If I had to tell you how I learned to edit or if there are finite steps involved, however, I'd be at a loss.

So my general answer is, "it depends."

In a business environment I'm mostly tasked with editing small articles and documents. Because of that, I can edit for content and for grammar at the same time.

Novels throw most of those rules out the window. I've never edited a novel before, so I had to figure out the best way to do it on my own.

So here's what I did: it may seem simple, but the first thing I did was read it cover to cover. No red pen in hand, no desire to wordsmith, no nothing but an avid reader picking up a book and reading it.

The first step is to know what you're dealing with.

The second step is the high-level edit. I'm not going to spend time adding commas or removing apostrophes if there are plot points that need work or entire chapters that need to be moved around. So step two left the red pen at home as well, and involved writing up a few pages of "here's where your book needs work."  I handed these pages back to Mom, who got to work on a new draft.

Step three is to get the novel back and read it again, this time with an eye toward the changes I suggested and how the overall story flows. I'm not surprised to find the story has a wonderful feel to it and is almost there.

Step four, where I'm at now, is nuts-and-bolts editing of this draft into a final draft. Which means, huzzah, red pen time!

Most of the stuff I know how to do is because somebody taught me how to do it. A few things I know how to do are because I just had to get it done and didn't have a model to follow. Business writing and editing don't really equate to works of fiction, but in the end it's a good thing because it's a new skill I'm developing and I'm having fun learning along the way.

And, I love red pens.

I couldn't make this shit up if I tried

Those of you who have followed the saga of my crazy upstairs neighbor will appreciate this (what I hope to be final?) encounter with her.

Last night about five o'clock, I'm in the kitchen prepping dinner for Nolan and me. My cell phone rings and I look at the caller ID -- it says "Woodside Gate" which, not surprisingly, means somebody just dialed me on the keypad outside my condo. When this happens, 99% of the time I don't bother to say hello, I just answer and punch in the code that opens the gate.  

Nolan wasn't supposed to arrive until 7:00 but my friend Becca said she'd stop by and give me some flyers for me to post in my complex in hopes of finding her missing cat, so I assumed it was her.

So I entered the code to open the gate, and thought that was it.

Wrong. About a minute later, my phone rings again. Woodside Gate. Weird, but I figure maybe Becca didn't make it through the open gate the first time and still needed to get in.

So I entered the code to open the gate, and again thought that was it.

Wrong. Another minute later, my phone rings a third time. Woodside Gate. At this point, I'm thinking someone doesn't just want me to open the gate, they actually want to talk. So I pick up the phone and answer it.

It's a really crackly connection so I can't hear everything the other party is saying. It goes something like this: "....(unintelligible) ... is this Miss Marsh ... ?"

Me: "Yes, this is Susan Marsh."

Her: " ...(unintelligible) ... do you have a problem with smoke in your fireplace?"

Me:  Pause.

Me: "Wait, who is this again?"

Her: Hangs up.

You heard it here first, folks. Crazy upstairs neighbor crank called me from the gate outside our complex. To quote the ever-quotable Sheldon Cooper, bitches be crazy.

Jealousy: All the Fun You Think They Had

"The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else's highlight reel."

 I've been thinking a lot lately about dark emotions - the negative emotions that grab hold of us, drag us down, and hold us under until we sink or swim. 

Fear. Jealousy. Self-doubt. Grief. Shame.

Envy and jealousy are hard to talk about. Really hard. Who out there is eager to admit that you're secretly longing for what other people have? That some part of you, big or small, wishes you could be someone else? Someone prettier, stronger, thinner, smarter, happier, someone with a bigger house or a smaller nose with a wonderful marriage and an amazing family? 

We've all been there, done that. But very few of us will open up and talk about what jealousy feels like.  Which is ironic and kind of a shame, since because jealousy is so common, it's one of those emotions that connects us all. 

I've had some major struggles with feelings of envy in my life. It comes, it goes, I hide from it, I fret about it, I address it, I dance around it, and sometimes, when I'm feeling extra courageous, I talk about it.

Several years back, I realized that I was envious of Kim, who is my sister's best friend. Rather than being happy that Brenda had such a strong friendship, I was jealous and intimidated. Bren and Kim would take long walks together and talk about the deep aspects of life, and they shared a bond that I thought should be reserved for sisters, not friends. I felt inadequate - I'm just the younger sister, the wisecracker, the person who takes Brenda shopping for clothes or out to funny movies. I'm not deep. Not special. Not Kim.

Come to find out, Kim had those same feelings of envy toward my own relationship with Brenda. Every time Brenda would tell Kim about something fun that she and I did together, Kim was envious. Turns out there is something about the sister bond that's hard to break and hard to find elsewhere. And the whole time, Kim and I both had a piece of ourselves that wished we were the other person.

Fast forward several years. Kim moves to Sacramento, Brenda moves to San Diego, and I get to spend more time with Kim. The Susan-Kim friendship begins. We share stories. We find out about each other and how we view the other's relationship with Brenda. (Side note: Brenda is a pretty lucky girl to have two girls fighting to be special to her.) And today, I can't imagine ever being envious of such an amazing person as Kim. But I was, for the longest time.

And every once in a while, there are those rare moments where life comes up from behind, smacks you on the head, and snaps you out of envy in a way you never expected. 

I had one of those moments this week. Someone with a seemingly perfect life - i.e. a bunch of things for me to envy - doesn't have it nearly as good as I thought they did. They have struggles I didn't know about, struggles I'd never ask for in a million years.

I'm gonna place a little bit of blame on that crazy social network, Facebook, which allows each of us to show only the side of ourselves that we want others to see. Sitting home alone on a Friday with a basket of laundry? Boring. Don't share that on Facebook. Out with amazing friends at the club, looking hot and having a great time? Post a thousand photos! I'm happy! I have a great life! Look, it's all right here for the world to see on Facebook!

Facebook is a load of crap. It's a load of crap that I've fallen for hook, line and sinker.

Facebook makes it all too easy to assume that what you see is what you get. Don't see bad stuff? Congratulations, you clearly have the perfect life.

How could I fall for that? What you see is hardly ever what you get. Yet I was content to sit back and assume that talking about a great life meant you actually had one.

Which is ironic, because in reality I'm the girl with a pretty great life. It aint perfect and sometimes it's downright messy, but when you get right down to it there's not many people I'd switch places with. I just took four months off work to travel, chill out, and have fun. I have a brand new car that's fully paid for. I don't have any debt. I have a kooky but close family. I've got a few close friends. I've got a pretty amazing fiancee. 

I have the things that most people would kill to have.

There's a million platitudes I could get into (grass isn't always greener, count my blessings, etc. etc.) but they won't get me where I need to be. What gets me where I need to be is this:

I know I'm not perfect. I never will be. I don't want to be. My imperfections are what make me who I am. I'll be real with you if you'll be real with me. I don't want to see your public face, because I'm comfortable with the good and the bad and the messy and everything in between. Seeing your vulnerability is what makes you human and what makes me love you. In return I'll show you my weak side, my fears, along with my compassion and my need to connect with you.  That's the way I want to live my life, and maybe you'll join me in the ride.

FAQ for understanding an introvert

I received a few questions from friends when I wrote my last entry on introversion. So, it looks like there are some important concepts that people want to know about.

So, do you hate going out?

No, not at all! I probably just don't want to do it as often as you. I need to feel a balance between evenings out and evenings in. For example, unless there's something pretty significant happening, I usually don't want to go out both Friday and Saturday evening – I'll pick one and then spend the other just chilling. Also, if given the choice between a loud party with tons of people or a quiet show at Lunas, I'll go with Lunas hands down. It gives me the thing I love – music and time with friends – in a more mellow environment. 

Are there exceptions? Of course there are. My fiance plays really loud music in a really loud band in really loud bars, and I'd go to the ends of the earth to be there and support him. So don't think of these as hard and fast rules, but guidelines.

So, do you hate people? Are you still shy? 

Nope to both questions. I'm pretty sure that I'm over my shyness, but that said, it's still hard for me to walk up to a group of people and just start a conversation. I don't think that's due to shyness, it's just a bit intimidating is all. Especially if that group of people is laughing and having a great time and circled off from me – I probably won't just cut in and intrude.

But you're always posting about all your adventures on Facebook! What's up with that?

Facebook is it's own animal which I won't get into right now. But come on, how many people do you see post about the mundane and ordinary aspects of their life? Not many. “Doing laundry” and “cleaning up cat vomit” do not make for interesting reads, and first and foremost I consider myself a writer, so I like to put things out there that are, well, interesting for other people to read! And, I do have a lot of fun in life, and I like sharing that with others. It's possible to be an introvert and still have great adventures. I know, because I do all the time.

So, should I stop inviting you to do stuff?

No way man! Invitations are excellent and appreciated. Don't feel like you have to change your behavior, just make an effort to understand the person who you are inviting a little better. It will pay off in spades.

 
Do you want me to fix you? Should I try to pull you out of your shell?  

Ooh, hard question. Loaded question. "Fixing" implies that there's something wrong with introverts, which is absolutely not the case. So no, don't try to fix me.

That said, I think everyone needs balance in their lives, and I'm certainly not a hermit. I spend time with my book club and at the gym with my trainer and at shows checking out good bands and riding my bike with friends and seeing movies with friends and family. I also spend time alone out in the world – I have no problem going to a restaurant by myself and enjoying a good meal while I read a book or just watch the world go by. And, of course, I need down time and time to just chill on the couch with my cat. 

I also think that it's good to be challenged spending time doing things I might not be comfortable with so you can push me a little. Just know that I already challenge myself in many different ways, so I don't necessarily need you to do it a great deal. And getting past internal challenges always feel better than pressure from other people.

I want to know more about you!

 

Here's a great primer for understanding an introvert a little better.

The Life of an Introvert

I've come to the realization that most people just don't understand introverts. And by "most people," I mean all you extroverts. 

Here's the thing: I've known my entire life that I was, and am, an introvert. It wasn't something I discovered about myself. It wasn't something that slowly came on. It's just who I am. 

I prefer the company of one or two close friends to the company of 20.  If you asked me whether I wanted to spend Friday night at a club or at home eating pizza and watching movies, I'd pick "pizza and movies" every day of the week and twice on Sundays.  And while extroverts are rounding up ten of their closest friends for happy hour or a fun run, you'd be doing me a favor by handing me a great book and a giving me a few hours alone to read it.

When I was younger, being introverted manifested itself as shyness. This isn't always the case with introverts, but it was with me. I didn't like to initiate conversations with other people. When I got teased, rather than come up with a witty retort I'd just turn bright red and retreat. I was extremely afraid of being judged by my peers, and I always assumed others thought I wasn't cool enough.  A lot of people go through this in grammar and high school, but for an introvert it's particularly difficult because you go through it alone. It never once occurred to me to ask my mom or my sister for advice on how to deal with it, so I just dealt with it by myself.

I've been "coming out of my shell," so to speak, my whole life. And here's the thing -- if you were to meet me today, you'd be hard pressed to guess that I'm introverted. It's not that I do a good job of hiding it, it's just that to meet people you have to be out and about doing things. You don't meet people staying home, you meet people out in the world. And the things I love - music, movies, theater, fitness, books -- will always draw me out into the land of the living.

But just because you see me at a show or out to dinner doesn't make me extroverted. If only it were that simple.

When an extrovert spends a night on the town, they are energized by crowds of people. They are in their element and it brings out the best in them. 

In contrast, when I spend a night out among throngs of people I often feel drained. I'm happy when I get home and can just cocoon for a while. I need more time to recharge my batteries.

Being introverted can be lonely at times. Not by the fact of being alone - I enjoy alone time. But because I often feel misunderstood.

There's a lot of pressure to be social in this world. From a very young age, we're encouraged to be outgoing, to be a go-getter, to have a wide circle of friends and a jam-packed social calendar.

Am I the only one who thinks a jam-packed social calendar sounds awful?

Because the truth of the matter is that it's hard for others to understand us. Being outgoing is pretty cut-and-dried. Being me is a lot more complex.

I prefer the company of a few close friends, but it can be hard to get out there and do the things people do to make new friends in the first place.So you could ask a very simple question like "why aren't you out with friends tonight?" and my answer wouldn't make sense to you. Sometimes, the answer is "I just don't feel like it." (Ridiculous! Going out with friends is always a great time!) Other times, the answer is "I'd like to but my friends are hitting the town tonight." (So go hit the town with them! Live it up! The more the merrier!) At other times, the answer is "but nobody called me so nobody wants to spend time with me tonight." (So call them! Take the initiative! Get out get out get out!)

The answer that runs through all of these is "The why doesn't really matter. I just don't want to. And I'm okay with that. I'm not defective, and you don't need to worry about me."

Thankfully there are several upsides to being introverted. I might have fewer friendships than you, but I have meaningful friendships that mean more to me than most anything else. 

I won't be the first person you meet when you walk into a party, but once you spend time talking to me, I might just be more interesting than anyone else you meet there. 

Leave me alone and I'll never go bored. I can find any number of things to fill my time and I don't go stir crazy. In fact, I draw a lot of my energy from my alone time.

So the next time you're quick to judge someone or look down upon them because their energy level doesn't match yours or they turn down your invitation to go clubbing, step back and realize that you might just be dealing with an introvert. Invite them to coffee or to go for a walk. Bring a movie over along with some nail polish. Lie on your back with them and look at the stars.  

You'll have a friend to the end.

Sorry. I love you.

When I was a kid, my sister and I would get into little fights all the time. Whether it was roughhousing or book stealing or other things that seven-year-old girls do to eight-year-old girls, I've lost track of the number of times our mom would find one of us crying, approach the other one, and remind us to apologize to each other.  

I was puzzled each time she'd tell me to say "I'm sorry" when I hadn't even tried to hurt my sister. Some of the hurt was physical, some emotional, but my defense to Mom was always "but I didn't MEAN to!" I thought apologies were only due when you intended to hurt somebody.  Because come on, I'm not going to lie -- there were many times where I'd pull her hair or scratch her or any number of other things I knew would get a rise out of her. When reminded to say I was sorry after one of those daily incidents, I complied. 

But it was really hard for me to say I was sorry when the hurt was accidental. I couldn't get past my instinct of "why say I'm sorry when I didn't even mean to do it?"


Thankfully, mom wouldn't back down. She kept reminding me that when we hurt somebody, no matter the reason, we tell them that we're sorry.

I'm really glad I finally learned that lesson. Learning it as a kid has made it much easier to put into practice as an adult.

Because as adults, our relationships are much more complex. Very rarely is it as simple as "hey, you tripped your best friend. Apologize." As adults, most of our hurting other people is unintentional. Very rarely do we go around in blatant disrespect or disregard for other people's feelings. Behavior that hurts is rarely on purpose, but that doesn't change the fact that the hurt is still there.  That it's painful. That you feel sad and let down.  

And as an adult, it's interesting to find that not everyone learned the same lessons as I did. Not everyone realizes how important it is to say you're sorry when you've hurt somebody else. There's a lot of people who still think "oh, I didn't mean to so you should just get over it."

If only it were that easy. It's not. Life is hard. It's complex.. It's messy. And we need to love each other through it. We need to put other people's feelings ahead of our own, and admit when we've goofed. Even when we didn't mean to cause hurt or damage or bad feelings. In fact, especially when we didn't mean to cause hurt or damage or bad feelings.

Because part of living in this world is having harmony with those around us. Relationships are hardly ever 50/50. There are times where you'll be in need and need others to take care of you. There are other times where you'll be the one giving 110% because you love the other person enough to give them all you have, and then a bit more.

I truly admire the people in my life who know all of this and then some. They see the pure joy in putting others first, and know that a lot of own own happiness comes in seeking happiness for those who matter most to us.

Remembering Mary

A few weeks ago, one of my fellow boot campers passed away. It was a shock that saddened our group, and the loss of Mary has not gone unnoticed. 

Fellow boot camper Sarah asked whether anyone had a memory or story about Mary that they wanted to share with her family. I wrote this yesterday and wanted to make sure I had a place to keep it safe.

I first met Mary in January of 2012. I was starting the new year with a new attitude along with some new fitness goals, and so I decided to sign up for the Shamrock'n Half Marathon Training sponsored by Fleet Feet Sacramento. I knew I didn't want to run the race (dear god, no running for me!) but figured I could definitely walk it, so I registered with the group of people who also wanted to train as walkers.

The first night of training, I met Mary along with several other new and friendly faces. Mary was a faithful attendee at each and every training session, and even though I knew she had a few years on me, I could NEVER keep up with her! She was one of the fastest walkers I had ever laid eyes on, and she continually left me in her dust as we trained -- and, eventually, as we both completed the half-marathon.

As soon as our marathon training wrapped up, I narrowed in on a new fitness goal of getting stronger and healthier. To help me with that goal I enrolled in Fleet Feet's Fit Body Boot Camp, which kicked off the week after the half-marathon. I showed up the first day and, lo and behold, there was Mary, ready for each and every fitness challenge that was thrown at her! As soon as I saw her, I knew that I had a friend and companion to keep me company in this new group of fitness fanatics.

I was consistently impressed with her spirit of determination as well as her quiet grace. She was easy to talk to and made friends with just about everyone in class.

Before starting this fitness journey, I never realized that I could become so close to a group of wacky and wonderful strangers who were on the same journey as I. It's funny to realize what brings people together – it doesn't have to be a shared past, or family, or politics or where you live. It can be something as simple and as personal as the goals in front of you and how you set out to achieve those goals. I am so happy to have met Mary and worked with her toward our mutual goal of getting outside and getting healthy. She made the journey fun, she inspired me and so many others, and her spirit steadfastly remains within our group.

Dream Journal, July 19th

I plan to keep this one short and sweet, because it was a disturbing dream. It was one of those dreams that I have to process for a while after I wake up, assuring myself "that was just a dream. It didn't really happen. Your life isn't actually that bad."

For the most part, my dream life is a combination of fun and just-plain-weird. I get to have a lot of flying dreams, which are my favorite. I have strange dreams that are hard to interpret on a fairly regular basis. But, from time to time, I do have dreams that scare me, make me sad, or frighten the pants off of me.

Last night's dream -- my mom, dad, and sister were all killed in a house fire in my childhood home.  I wasn't there at the time so I was fine, but this left me the only remaining living member of my family. For the rest of the dream, I was sad and cried an awful lot. Whenever I was around a group of people, someone would remind everyone else not to talk to me or bother me because I'd just been through a terrible tragedy.

I had a second variation of this same dream where the house fire killed my dad and my sister but my mom came out alive. I still cried a lot but tried to keep her close, within sight line, so that I could always verify that she was still alive. I tried to get her to stay in the same room with me when I took a shower.

Dream #2 -- I'm with a group of people and we are being herded onto a boat, but not in normal fashion.  The first part of getting onto the boat involves running down to a floating dock and hopping on. The second part of the boat involves a human-sized catapult that slings a group of people through the air and onto the boat.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

Dream Journal, July 17th

I've been threatening to start a dream journal for years now. Those who know me well know I dream pretty much every night, and I remember most of my dreams the next morning in high detail. I have several dreams each night, some are mundane, others are strange, still others tell me more about my waking life than I want to know sometimes.

I believe that dreams are an interpretation of what is going on in our life and help us to better understand where we are and where we want to be. My subconscious regularly talks to me in my sleep -- sharing things I already know, and other things I need to know but am not ready to face. 

One of my goals is to get better at documenting my dreams. Not for interpretation sake -- that might come later, but right now all I want is a spot to write them down so I can remember them later.

Last night, I had several dreams. I'll change the names of real-life friends, when applicable, to protect their privacy. Here's the snippets that I remember.

Dream #1 -- I'm heading to some sort of costume party, and I'm dressed like a Christmas tree. I'm wearing a huge green suit with a white sheet at the bottom (the kind we placed around the bottom of our tree every year as a child to catch falling pine needles and hold the presents). The sheet is so long that I have to hold it up with my hand -- feels half like a wedding gown train and half like a diaper.

 I get in an elevator with several other people in costume and I'm the last one in, since my costume takes up so much space and no one can squeeze in behind me. I have a vague sense that the party is with my high school class (which might make sense in real life since we have our 20-year reunion coming up). When we get out of the elevator, I am giddy with the party spirit and immediately head out to the dance floor, where I twirl around in my big Christmas tree costume, then realize that only a few people have arrived so far and I look rather conspicuous, so I twirl over to all of the food and drink tables and take a look at what's available. I don't see many people I know or feel comfortable talking to, and once I spy a group of three people (my sister is one of them) I head in their direction so I'm around people I know and don't feel like a huge idiot wearing a Christmas tree costume.

Dream #2 -- I'm at some sort of mall, I think, hanging out with my friend Sabrina, who I haven't spent time with in a really long time. We used to be close but I feel like we've drifted apart since we haven't hung out in a long time. She poses the question to me about why we haven't been hanging out lately, and I tell her the truth -- that I feel a bit awkward now that she has a new group of girl friends. She says yeah, I've been thinking about that too, then asks me what I want to do about it. I feel really uncomfortable and don't say anything, because the truth is I don't know what I want and therefore don't know what to say.

A bit later in the dream, Sabrina and I and a group of other people have completed some big task and are going to be rewarded with two movies and pizza. I've completed this task several times before and so I know the reward will be two kiddo movies and that the pizza is ordered in between the two movies. I'm tired and hungry and not in the mood to watch kids movies or wait for my pizza, so I tell Sabrina that I'm going to take off. I think I also say this so that I can just leave and stop feeling awkward around her. She just kind of shrugs it off.

Dream #3 -- I'm sitting in a hot tub at some big hotel or resort-type place, and there's a group of girls sitting around chatting in the pool next to me. I know one of them from Junior League and recognize the others vaguely from the league, but I'm only friends with one of them. I'm enjoying my time in the hot tub and listening in on their conversation.  I'm almost done in the hot tub and thinking about getting out, when for some reason I decide to poop in the tub before I leave. I feel a bit scandalous doing this but I do it anyway. I figure nobody will get into the tub after me, especially if I pull the top onto it after I get out. So I get out, pull the top on, grab my towel and start walking away.  I keep looking back at the group of girls that I was next to, and it looks like they might hop out of their pool and into the hot tub. Part of me is worried that they'll see the poop and think I did it, the other side of me is indignant that they'd think I pooped in a hot tub.

I get out of there and go back to my room where I am changing out of my suit and into dry clothes. I have a new bra but I can't get it on right because the straps are all crooked in the back, so I get frustrated and just put on my old bra, which is damp from sitting next to my wet towel.

Dream #4 -- I'm on vacation near the beach with my dad, my sister, and Sabrina. It's one of our last days and we are looking for a fun excursion to take. We walk up to a woman behind a counter and ask her what excursion she would recommend, and we decide to go rent bikes and explore a coastal area.  As we are heading to the excursion, I try to show off by holding my bike up with one hand and say "hey Brenda, look at this."  Up ahead of us, Sabrina is also holding her bike with one hand and I'm irritated because she's showing off that she is stronger than me.

Summer of Susan -- The First Month

I wish I had more energy to write tonight, but after a full day car shopping (more on that later) and an evening at boot camp, I am Wiped Out. So, tonight's post comes to you in list form.

The first month of the Summer of Susan has been mellow and relaxing -- exactly what I was hoping for. I did, however, manage to accomplish a few things:

7 Movies Watched

Chimpanzee

This American Life Live!

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Bernie

Dark Shadows

Men in Black 3

What to Expect when You're Expecting

3 Plays Attended

Wicked

Little Shop of Horrors

Rx

7 Books Read

State of Wonder – Ann Patchett

This is How – Augusten Burroughs

Cockeyed – Ryan Knighton

Father's Day – Buzz Bissinger

Let's Pretend This Never Happened – Jenny Lawson

Louise: Amended – Louise Krug

We The Animals – Justin Torres

20 Workouts in the Books

Boot Camp & HIIT x 8 sessions

Walking x 6 miles

Swimming x 3.25 miles

Cycling x 37 miles

And last but not least, I leave you with one final number:  $3,900.00.  In other words, the estimate for repairs to my 12-year-old car (and hence, the reason for today's car shopping). I hope to be driving something new by this time next week. Until then, peace out.

This is how to disappoint your fans

I'm trying to find the right words to say what I think about Augusten Burrough's new book. To say I hate it isn't quite right.

It wasn't what I expected. It wasn't what I've come to love about Augusten. I didn't realize it was a self-help book rather than a memoir. Because his memoirs are what I know, what I love, and what I crave.

His advice, on the other hand, isn't what I'm looking for. It's not that I don't need it or don't appreciate it. It's just not what he does well. What he does well is tell wonderfully dark and hilarious stories about himself. Stories that are so rich that you think they're fictional. When you find out they're real, you almost don't want to believe it. You wonder how anybody could go through half the stuff he's been through, let alone all of it. But you take it in, you revel in it, and you end up wanting more.

I want no more of the current book, and I'm kind of sad to say so. I don't mind the self-help angle as much as I mind the inane platitudes that he whips out just about every other page. They started out simple enough, and I was digging them – for example:

Resentment is anger looking for payback.

Decisions are beautiful. They are evidence of thought and care. Decisions are the polishing cloths of life.

But they just kept coming, and coming, and coming. And they started to make me angry, and I started to hate them:

Regret is the lost and found of life.

Wishing is the meal you only dreamed you ate.

Hatred is clinical-strength anger.

Rage is anger with the volume turned all the way to the right.

Need is the focused, highly fortified form of want.

Delay is a gun pointed at the temple of confidence.

Perfectionism is the satin-lined casket of creativity and originality.

Shame is a foot that grinds glee into the dirt.

And I had to stop reading the book. I'm going to return it to the library tomorrow. I think I'll go read Dry again, because I don't like this irritated feeling I have toward Augusten Burroughs and I want it to go away.

And so it begins

I left my job today. On purpose. 

I'm calling it a self-imposed, self-funded, self-nurturing sabbatical.

I'm a little excited, a little scared, and still unsure of what my next steps will be. 

But mostly, I'm just really happy to begin this adventure. I don't know where it will take me and I don't know where it will end, and that's the best part of the whole sordid thing.

How it came to be

I've been working a contract position for the past six months, filling in for an employee who was out on maternity leave.  Before that, I was with my previous company for 14 years. The 14-year company had layoffs last October and, just like that, I was out of a job.  I was lucky to find my current (or past, as of about three hours ago) contract job just a few weeks after the layoffs, and I immediately fell into a really good groove with the new company.  I knew it would be a temporary groove, because my contract was only slated to run for six months, but I made the most of it.

It was fun. Creative. Low-stress. 9 to 5. No weekends and no laptop to lug home. In other words, it was a dream come true and a 180 degree turn from what I'd been doing up to this point.

And today, I'm done and I'm moving on.

The reality was that my work had wrapped up, maternity employee returned and I handed all of the reigns back to her capable hands. They asked me to stay. They wanted to keep me. I said thank you very much, but I'm going on sabbatical.

I said I'll call you in the fall.

Because, come on -- how often do you get to say that, and how often does anyone get to take real time off? I'm talking more than a weekend here or a week there. I'm talking about taking the next four months off, and just seeing where it takes me. I don't have the answer to that question right now, but I've got some good ideas. My ideas aren't grandiose like I think most people expect to hear.  Maybe my ideas will evolve in time, and I expect that they will.


But for now, I have small goals. I want to unwind. I want to take road trips. I want to exercise more. I want to learn something new. I want to go camping. I want to swim and ride my bike.  I want to cook. I want to write.


And the best part is -- there's just no time like the present to dive right in. So dive I shall, and I'll wait to see where exactly this leap takes me.