Belonging

We all want to belong. For some, it's easy to find the group/groups they mesh with. They fit in with ease; without effort they make friends and get involved.

This was not me.
I did not belong.
I did not have a group to be part of.
I was a square peg among the round ones. It was difficult to grow up this way especially since I wanted nothing more than to fit in.

At school, I managed to make a friend so I was not totally alone, but I never belonged to a group. Since my mother was so unreliable when I was younger, I was not able to join after school activities or have friends that lived far away. I mostly hung out the the young kids in the neighborhood and had one good friend at school.

As I got into high school, I had a few friends, but still never fit into a group. I was on the outside, getting a peek into what it was like to belong. I was never a legit member. I had friends in band, theater, sports, etc. I just never fit int he group. I envied their groups and bonds. I still had just one or two people I was really close to; people that I did everything with, but I didn't really belong.

When I went to college in the fall of 1994, I signed up to rush a sorority. My mom was really pushing me to do this; I think it was because she was never in one. I went to the first meeting with Panhellenic and felt like I did not belong. Plus, I did not like all the rules they were imposing on rushees. For some reason, rush was being held once classes had started instead of in the summer, so the rules of silence were so crazy to me. So, I dropped out. My mother was pissed, but I didn't feel I was going to belong with these sororities and their rules. At the same time, I wanted to belong to something so bad!

In the spring of 1995, I returned to college after a rough break at home. I needed to make friends and find a way to belong. I walked through the mall area of our campus on a cool spring morning and found my group. There was a table for a local sorority (only at my college--not nationally on other campuses). They said they were different. They were diverse. I signed up for more information, got invited to my first rush party, and the rest is history. Among these girls I found my group. We were all so different and brought different things to the group, but I fit with them. We were all square pegs, but fit together in the same sisterhood. I have watched these women grow up, become mothers, strong leaders in their professions, and still my best friends.

As I've grown and changed, I'm belonged to other groups. I've worked at schools where my coworkers felt like family. I've had other jobs where we were a small, family. Jobs where we were all diverse and each brought something different to the table, but meshed well together. I've been part of groups and classes where I have made friends and we continued to hang out. I feel like when all my friends come together from the many different groups I've been a part of, there is a phenomenal mix of people.  I like to look at my friends and not see sameness. I like that we are different. I like how we challenge each other, but still belong together.

Over the last few years, I feel like I belong less with people I've known a long time. Is it because I have changed? Have they changed?  I have had some lonely times and wish for the days when it was easy to get everyone together. To belong again. I feel part of nothing sometimes.  I want to belong. I want to be part of what is happening.

Asthma

The pictures in the albums don't match the memories. The pictures show two smiling parents who look at each other adoringly. They show two sisters who are spread out in age, but enjoy doing everything together. They show holiday and vacation pictures where everyone is smiling and happy to be together.

The memories, not as bright and put together as the pictures, tell a different story. The parents are loud and use a lot of profanity to communicate their dislike for each other. The abundance of holiday gifts were an offering to make up for missing school events, spending evenings getting high in the closet, and always being mad.

There are no pictures from all my hospital stays. I was diagnosed with asthma in 1983. I had long stays that winter where they ran a lot of tests. I remember getting breathing treatments. I remember nurses clapping on my back with cupped hands to loosen up the crud in my chest to make breathing easier. My mom would sleep at the hospital with me. I remember her getting tired of sleeping on the uncomfortable cot and making me switch places with her. She slept in the comfy hospital bed, and I slept on the cot, but the window on a cold winter's night. I remember being so uncomfortable and cold. This is how she took care of me. At least she was there, right?

Asthma inhalers are expensive. My parents talked about this a lot. Money was always a problem in our house. Except at the holidays and birthdays. The pictures show that we were always spoiled with all the toys we wanted. But, my parents always complained about the cost of my medicine. I didn't like to add to their money problems, so I wouldn't mention needing a refill. I would put it off as long as I could. "As long as I could" usually meant until had been empty for a few days and I couldn't breathe. We would end up at the emergency room at 3 Am so I could get a shot to open my airways, and they'd tell me not to let that happen again. I would be told not to worry about how much the inhaler cost. But, their talks about the expense of my medication would continue where I could hear them, and the cycle of me not wanting to be a burden continued, always ending in a trip to the ER in the middle of the night.

A Valid Excuse: Parenting is Hard

Parenting is hard!  When you are the sole decision maker for your child, it's scary. If things go great, you are allowed to pat yourself on the back. On the other hand, if things go wrong, you're the one to blame.

I'm a single mom. I have pretty much been parenting alone since Alex was in the second grade. This is when my ex-husband remarried and stopped taking interest in what was going on with Alex. I've had to make many decisions all by myself and they haven't been easy. I don't want to screw up his life. I want to get it right for him.

So, with all this said, I didn't focus on writing today. There was an issue with his teacher and I was livid. I've got to make a decision about his school placement sooner than I planned. I want to do the right thing. I don't want to do it out of anger. I want it to be what is best for him.

I'll get back to focus tomorrow. Two days in a row I have posted an excuse. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will succeed.

The. Struggle. Is. Real.

Today writing was a struggle. I tried to work on something I started the other day about belonging. Then I tried to start something new about my mission in life.

There were so many crazy, real-life things happening. My computer freaked out. We got home late from Sunday School. I hate making excuses for not writing, but it is what it is.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will write something wonderful!

Navigate

Today's word on my list of journal prompts is "navigate". I decided to go with it because it made me think of myself and what I'm trying to do in this world.

There are thirteen definitions for the word navigate. It's a verb that can be used with or without an object. Some definitions mention specific modes of transportation: cars, boats, planes. Two have something to do with a computer.

Two definitions stood out to me:
1. to walk or find one's way
2. to move or progress through in a logical sequence

I started to navigate my adult life at age eighteen with definition number two. I graduated from high school and went to college to get a degree in education. I had always wanted to be a teacher and was doing everything required to reach that goal. I met a man, feel in love, and got engaged all before I finished college. I graduated in May 1999 and was married a month later. By August, I had my first teaching job with PK students which was exactly what I wanted.  Within the first three years of our marriage, we bought a house and became pregnant with our first child.

This was the logical sequence of things. In hindsight, the easy way to navigate through life. More children could have followed. Maybe a dog. We'd be at a point where we would be planning how we would grow old together.

Instead, at the age of twenty-eight, I said, "screw logic" and asked for a divorce. Several factors led to this decision. Mostly I wasn't happy with where I was. I thought there was more out there for me. Something else I should be doing with someone else. I believe it was the right decision, but I stopped moving through life in a logical sequence and have been trying to find my way since. My new way of navigating is messy and clumsy. My definition says, "To stumble through life to find one's way."

I've stumbled, called, been bruised and broken trying to fine my way. I'm now forty years old, and I am not where I'd thought I would be in life. I'm still trying to find my way. Most times without a compass or a map. I don't seem to have a plan; I just know I need to move forward.

I often feel abnormal for someone my age. My concept of a forty-year-old grown up is someone who is established and knows what they want to do. In fact, they do not only know what they want to do, they are doing it. They are settled. They are happy. They are stable. They can answer the question, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"  I am none of these things, and I have no clue how to answer that question. Don't even ask me. Just don't.

I think my navigation skills have improved over the past twelve years. I make less errors. I still stumble, fall, and have to dust myself off, but my choices have improved. At least I'm learning from history.

I felt unhappy in my marriage. It's one of the reasons I wanted out. Since my separation, I have been looking for happiness. Just when I think I've got it, it slips from my grasp. Actually, it evaporates into thin air like it was never there. I wonder what happiness is and how you attain it. I've read that you need to make your own happiness. That it is inside you. I wonder if, when I was formed, the happiness forgot to form, because I have been able to pull it from within.

I've tried to find happiness in relationships. I thought Chuck was the one because we first met in fourth grade and there just had to be a reason he came back into my life when he did. I thought Michael was the one, but only if I could change him first. I thought Brett was the one. THREE times. After three devastating break-ups and an abortion, I felt totally broken. I finally took a break from dating because there was no happiness in relationships.

I tried to find happiness in a bottle. A bottle of wine. A bottle of Rum. Pretty much any bottle would do. I was happy when I was out partying. My hangovers were well worth it because the night before was full of laughs and good times. But, eventually the bottles were empty. The fun ran out and the headaches were too powerful. I remember a span of several months in 2011 where I spent so much time either drunk or hungover that I barely remember what was happening around me at that time. It was a dark time. It definitely wasn't happy.

When I gave up on love and romance, I tried to find happiness with random hook-ups with strangers. Who needs love when I could have a fun night of sex and just move on?  This was an empty time. I was definitely not happy when I looked in the mirror.

I tried less self-destructive ways to find happiness. I tried new things and went outside my comfort zone. I went to scrapbook classes and interacted with people I didn't know. I dedicated and rededicated myself to my writing over and over again. In 2004, I started writing the story that would later give birth to my collection. I joined writing groups and traveled to different writing classes/workshops.  In 2007, I attended "A Week at Sarah Lawrence" where I got to work with a published author and workshop my story with nine of my peers. I felt at home with these other writers and fell in love with the creative process.

I was happy when I was doing these things that I liked to do.  Scrapbooking helped me relax. I had fun with the creative outlet. Writing was good for me too, but I had trouble finishing stories. I would only write when I felt the muse instead of doing it regularly. It would be (and sometimes still is today) a place of frustration for me. The problem with hobbies is that they don't take priority in life. Work, bills, groceries, taking care of a small child all have to come first. So, I was happy when I did these things, but extremely unhappy when I couldn't.

As I continued to clumsily navigate through life and try to figure things out, I became really unhappy with my job. I lost confidence in my ability to teach. I was frustrated with lack of student responsibility for behaviors and academics. I was tried of parents, who didn't have a degree in education, telling me what was best to do in the classroom. I was frustrated with administration and their unrealistic expectations. So, at the end of the school year in 2010, I left. I thought it would be easier to find a job doing something outside the classroom because I'm smart and have many skills. I was wrong.

For five years, I dragged myself from low-paying job to low-paying job trying to find where I belonged. I worked a part-time retail job for four years. I sold bras and panties. I was good at it. I had never worked retail before, but I was good at this. I formed relationships with customers, I believed in the product, and I had a strong work ethic that was admired by my supervisors.

I worked at a start-up company. It was an online market place for parents to book summer camps. My job was to call camp directors and build relationships with them. I wanted them to join the marketplace. We made money from the camps that joined. I was good at this. I felt successful. I decided to leave to go back to teaching (one year at a small, International private school) because it was close to what I thought I was going to go to school to do (more on that in a moment).

I worked at a nonprofit where I provided social services to residents at a low-income housing community. I LOVED this job. I was actually happy with what I was doing. I loved going to work. I felt like i was making a difference. I was still navigating (in full stumbling manner) through my personal life, but I felt like I had found my calling. The bad part was it was a small non-profit with no money. So, I barely made enough for us to live. I couldn't take care of us. I was happy with my job, but at an all time low in my self-esteem. I couldn't provide for my family.   So, I dragged myself back to teaching (for more money--irony there). I'm unhappy when I go to work, but at least we can eat.

I mentioned going back to school. As I was trying a career change and find my place in life, I tried to go back to school several times. I thought I wanted an MFA. This is how I would focus on my writing. Also, a MFA is a terminal degree and I could teach college English. I struggled in online college programs. I lacked motivation, time, and confidence. Some would say I must not have wanted it enough, but I think that on my road to happiness, I tried so many wrong things, that I destroyed my spirit. I don't believe in myself the way I used to. So, there was no happiness in getting another degree because I wasn't able to complete one.

So, now I'm meandering through life. I like that word because it implies a slowness. I'm still navigating (finding my way), but it's less messy.  I have heart disease (diagnosed at age thirty-five). Maybe that is what slowed me down.  I still don't know what I want to do with my life, as far as a career. I'm dating someone, but scared about where it will go and where I want it to go. What I wonder most at this moment is there a way to figure things out and progress on a logical path again? Or am I stuck trying to navigate (stumbling or meandering) to find my way the rest of my life?

Took a Night Off

Ok, so it's day four and I didn't write today. I started something yesterday that I'm going to finish tomorrow. I think my word count will be great. I feel guilty about taking a day off, especially this early in the challenge, but I was SO tired.  Tomorrow is a new day.

:)

dreaming

I struggled with today's writing. I was trying to write something more upbeat, but it's not what I have inside me right now. I started a piece on belonging, but I couldn't quite get the words right. Here's a peek into my dreamland.  

Last night I dreamed I was hanging out with some girlfriends. These girls have been my friends for around twenty years. We met in college. Over the past couple of years I have felt a strain between us. There were three girls in my dream. One I'm very close with, but in the dream she kept making excuses to do something else. One of the other girls was pointing out everything wrong with my apartment. She didn't like the food I was serving or the dishes I was using. She wasn't happy with the options I had for seating. She was being very difficult. The third girl was an ex-friend. She stopped being friends with me over a year ago. She has been acting like a middle school girl and trying to turn other friends against me. In the dream, she was using my favorite pink cup that says, "Princess" on it. I was so angry that she was using that cup.  It was like she was replacing me among our friends.

Dreams have always fascinated me. I remember doing a research paper over dreams my senior year of high school. I am always trying to figure out why I have the dreams I do. What do they mean? What is my subconscious trying to tell me?

My biggest fear in the whole world is alligators. I'm terrified of them. I can't even stand to see them on TV. I know in my mind this fear is totally illogical.  I can even pinpoint when it started. I was watching an episode of "When Animals Attack" on Fox. There was a lady in Florida who was talking about walking to her car with her groceries. She heard a hissing noise and thought it was a tire.She looked under her car and there was a large alligator. It wasn't just hearing this terrifying story on TV. I felt the fear once a week when I attended classes at University of Houston, Clear Lake.  When you enter the campus, there are signs that state "Beware of Alligator". After seeing these, I kept imagining leaving class at 9 PM and there be an alligator hissing under my car. The fear grew from here.

When I'm highly stressed, I'll dream about alligators. I'll be in situations where they are near me. I'll be in situations where I am running from them.  I'll be in situations where I'm scared to death. I know when I start dreaming of alligators that I'm stressed or worried about something. I wish I would dream of something else because I'm so scared when I wake up.

When I feel out of control in my life I have a reoccurring dream about driving a car from a backseat. This car is always traveling down a freeway with lots of curves and overpasses. It's ridiculous how scary these rides are. I didn't even know it was possible to drive a car from the backseat.

I recently had a reoccurring dream about having a baby. In the dream, I always had a little girl. I would exclaim, "I finally have my Miriam." These dreams would make me sad and confuse me. When I didn't have another baby by thirty-five I was so sad. I always wanted to be pregnant again and have another baby. I definitely wanted a little girl so I could have my Miriam Elizabeth.  It took a little while, but I finally came to terms with not having anymore babies. Then I got heart disease and found out how high risk it would be for me to be pregnant again. So, when the baby dreams started, I was confused. If I had made up my mind that I was over having babies, why was I having these dreams. I even had one dream where I found an abandoned baby girl and was still ecstatic to have my Miriam. I felt like I had to mourn the decision not to have a baby all over again.

One final dream that I encounter all the time is a house we used to live in shows up all the time. It was our house on Spring Grove. Some of the dreams that I have here take place in the past and some the present. We moved out of this house when I was sixteen. We only lived there a short time. So, why does this house always show up in my dreams?

The other night I dreamed that my family was moving back there without me. They said I could come, but I couldn't bring my stuff. Then when I said I would leave stuff behind, I was told I could have my big room back to myself. My mom said I would have to share it with my dad. I couldn't understand why my family was treating me so poorly in this house that means so much to me. In real life, I'm having some struggles with them. My mom upset me Sunday night, so it probably triggered this dream. But, why this house? Why?

They say dreams are a window to the soul. I'm not sure what my soul is based on these dreams I have shared. There is so much I am still trying to understand about my dreams and who I am when I am awake.