Time is Not on My Side
I never understood people who walked during lunch, but the only thing they changed were their shoes. What about the funk factor?
My book arrived today, and in the interim, I’ve identified at least three other people who also would benefit from The New Codependency. Not sure when I can get around to opening it up, though.
Because I’m now a workaday woman, personal reading time is at a premium. Lunchtime is it, I suppose, but I’ve been eating at my desk and working through.
You know what they say about old habits . . .
I will be able to normalize my schedule once we get the car situation figured out. Like, by getting a third and possibly a fourth car. Meantime, what I miss most are my morning workouts. OK, maybe not what I miss most, but I do miss the energy, and clearly energy begets energy, because right now I’m feeling kinda drained.
But it’s only Day 3, and I’m still making adjustments. What I can do, and what I’m actually looking forward to, is taking my goofy dog on evening walks after I get home. You know, after the sun has set and the chill is in the air. Also, there are a couple of lunchtime walkers who actually change clothes before hitting the bricks for a couple of miles.
I never understood people who walked during lunch, but the only thing they changed were their shoes. What about the funk factor?
Yesterday morning I did do about 150 crunches with my kettlebell. That sounds impressive, doesn’t it? Really, I did three sets of three crunches, 16 of each. Notice I didn’t say I did them well.
Clearly, I need to get back to the gym, and it’s starting to look like it’ll have to happen earlier than ever, like arriving no later than 6 a.m.
I’m feeling sleepy just thinking about it.
And that’s another thing: I have not been keeping up with my vitamins, nor my iron, and it’s the iron I need most. Yesterday I packed my vitamins. And forgot about them. Today, I promise to do better.
It’s only been three days, and yet I feel as if my world has turned upside-down.
But the view ain’t bad.
Don’t count every hour in the day, make every hour in the day count. ~ Unknown
Tomorrow, I Shall Wear Purple
Today, why, some of my best friends are gay. I’m not just saying that to be funny. (OK, I am.) It’s also true, when I think about it.
Or lavender, because I’m pretty sure I have a lavender sweater buried in my closet. For the past few days we’ve had record-setting heat trying to ruin my October bliss, but tomorrow the high is supposed to only hit 69 or 70 degrees. That’s outside. Inside my new workplace, maybe 50. Maybe.
That was a surprise. Turns out the boss gets hot in his office, one of only two with windows, and the staff pays the consequences. I don’t mind; I’d much rather be too cool than too hot, or deal with angry coworkers always adjusting the thermostat. I went through that once, with dueling menopausal women in a Cincinnati newsroom. D-r-a-m-a. Too cool air is nothing a littler personal heater can’t fix, and you get one if the coolness is an issue. Just that simple.
I was proud to respond in yesterday’s meeting of the development team that yes, I already knew about the purple thing: Wednesday, Oct. 20 is “Spirit Day,” and all Americans are asked to wear purple to oppose the bullying of homosexual kids and teens.
I hope I don’t need to remind you of the recent spate of gay suicides, or the “It Gets Better” movement. If you’re unaware, there’s Google.
You don’t need any special level of sensitivity to be opposed to hate or bullying of anyone, especially children. However, if you grew up different in any way from your peers, you might have contemplated suicide a time or two. Or even homicide. Because teens’ emotions can be just that extreme. Man, there’s not enough money in the world to pay me to be a teen again.
I can’t say I was bullied much about my weight. Sure, there were attempts, but that’s when I got into the few fights I’d ever had, and I always won. Bullying became a nonissue. I think it helped that my township’s school system was relatively small compared to the university-sized institutes teens attend today. If you had a certain rep, everyone knew it, good or no.
Not sure how or where I first heard about Spirit Day, which I was calling Purple Day, and noted in purple ink on my calendar. Maybe it’s the nurturing/codependent thing, but I’ve always been a champion of the underdog, and back in the day – and maybe still today? – some of the underdogs were gay.
Today, why, some of my best friends are gay. I’m not just saying that to be funny. (OK, I am.) It’s also true, when I think about it. And I have to pause and actually think about it, because their gayness is a nonissue. Now that I am thinking about it: my best friend from college is a lesbian; so are a few cousins, though they think folks don’t know it, and my sister-in-law; I have several gay workplace friends from back in the day, with whom I keep up on Facebook, and I’ve picked up several more gay acquaintances via FB.
And you know what? That’s probably where I first heard of Purple Day.
Time to get ready for work. I swear on a stack of bibles, I have no idea how I worked 40 hours a week and raised two small kiddies. Granted, I got a lot of help from the hubby, but it’s still a yeoman’s job.
But that’s a story for another day.
By the way, purple is big this fall. Just absolutely everywhere. You don’t have to have gay friends, or know gay people or children, to support a child or teen’s basic right to move freely and without harm among his or her peers.
So please, wear purple tomorrow. It’ll do your heart good.
When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple. With a red had which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. ~ opening line of the poem ‘Warning’ by Jenny Joseph
The New Normal
Eight years. What a tremendous waste of time. And yet, would I be the fabulous person I am today without that experience? *LOL*
The grapes are washed, the raisins and peanuts mixed. Only thing missing are the baby carrots, which I passed up at Kroger last night because of the cost. Sure, I probably could have gotten everything for a lot less at the Wal-Mart across the street, but I had neither the time nor patience to navigate the long, wide aisles and dodge short, wide people for just a few items. It was nearly 7:45; I wanted to be in bed by 10.
I made it to bed by 11:30, still bright-eyed and a bundle of nerves. I’m due at the office in about 90 minutes.
Some people would rather do the opposite: Run their own business rather than work for someone else. Success depends on the market, and right now the market demands I get my behind on someone else’s payroll.
In the 10 years I’ve been on my own, I’ve flitted in and out of a few truly awful situations. Won’t invite any negative energy by detailing them here. Suffice it to say there are some power-mad, self-hating shysters out there. The trick is listening to your instincts rather than your dwindling bank account.
It’s been in the past 10 years that I’ve gained the most weight. I dove into books like What Color is Your Parachute? and Career Bounce-Back and The Well-Fed Writer – that last one, by the way, I highly recommend – instead of dealing with the emotional issues of be self-employed, but unemployed, and really needing to move in order to find a decent-paying position in my field, but not wanting to move my family yet again.
I pushed through it all, not admitting to myself or anyone for the next eight years that underneath that go-getter, smiling, highly social demeanor I was very likely clinically depressed. Even I didn’t know what the true problem was. Depressed? Not moi. Then I went to see Dr. Bean a few years ago about getting some prescription appetite suppressants or something, and the dam burst.
Eight years. What a tremendous waste of time. And yet, would I be the fabulous person I am today without that experience? ** LOL **
So hey, I’m packing lunch, healthy snacks and, of course, my water bottle. Until we figure out how to deal with four different skeds with just two cars, not sure when I can resume my morning gym routine. Hopefully we’ll be able to get a “beater” car soon.
OK, so I’m sitting here writing when I should be unbraiding my naps, getting dressed and reintroducing myself to rush-hour traffic. Gotta go . . .
When your work speaks for itself, don't interrupt. ~ Henry J. Kaiser
A New Position, a New Beginning
Everything I’ll be doing is with the goal of helping others. If you read yesterday's post, you’ll appreciate the irony.
Monday is the first day of what I hope will be a long and successful career in the world of nonprofits, and no – you can’t get rid of me that easily. This blog continues uninterrupted. In fact, I’ll likely file early in the a.m., which should make my Root bosses quite happy.
I’ll be with the Alliance of AIDS Services – Carolina, whose mission “is to serve people living with HIV/AIDS, their loved ones, caregivers and communities at large, through compassionate and non-judgmental care, prevention, education and advocacy.” Like others there, I’ll wear many hats, but my primary role is writing for grants.
My specific title: Associate Director of Development for Grants and Public Affairs. Everything I’ll be doing is with the goal of helping others. If you read yesterday’s post, you’ll appreciate the irony.
As a “cody” – as one reader referred to folks like herself and me over on the “Less Leslie” Facebook fan page – the work should suit me just fine. In fact, I just left I left Tanza this message: It’s the perfect place for codependents!
I did order a copy of the book I told you about yesterday, The New Codependency: Help and Guidance for Today’s Generation. In fact, I ordered two: The other is being shipped to Tanza’s office. She agreed the updated book would be best, but didn’t have her own copy. While I recognize giving gifts is typical “cody” behavior, it’s really a work-related item; besides, it cost less than $10, and since I’m an Amazon Prime customer, shipping is free. So there.
Seriously, though, this really does feel like a new beginning. Not only in the most obvious ways, but also in the most personal. It’s been quite some time since I’ve felt this secure, confident and, well, just plain happy about all the great things that are going on in my life. Absolutely, I’ve got a handful of the craptacular to deal with as well, but it’s a safe bet that a year ago I wouldn’t have been as calm and successful in beating back hairy issues as I am today.
Like I said yesterday, my couch trip is nearing an end. I will miss Tanza because she’s seriously cool, but I never wanted to be there in the first place. And speaking of the inimitable Dr. Bean . . .
I’m going to request another round of blood work so I can see how I’m progressing. I was full of antibiotics last time and it threw off the results of one of my assessments, so I really have no idea where I am since being diagnosed as pre-diabetic at the start of this weight-loss quest. Besides, it’s always great seeing Dr. Bean.
No doubt, being in an 8-5 situation without constant access to my own kitchen and pantry is a very welcome change of pace. Will this help me lose weight faster? Fingers crossed.
On a personal note: Gay teen suicides are in the news, and there seems to be an increase in right-wing political gay bashing as well as an upswing in hostilities across the board, including in the notoriously homophobic, traditional black church – which is just shameful. Yesterday, the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention reported that 1 in 22 black Americans will be diagnosed with the AIDS virus in their lifetime. As a “straight ally” from way back, I’m especially pleased to be a member of the Alliance, and am looking forward to sharing some serious “cody” compassion to people who are HIV positive or have full-blown AIDS, as well as working my ass off to help fund and find a cure.
Wish me luck, folks.
From the point of view of the pharmaceutical industry, the AIDS problem has already been solved. After all, we already have a drug which can be sold at the incredible price of $8, 000 an annual dose, and which has the added virtue of not diminishing the market by actually curing anyone. ~ Barbara Ehrenreich
On the Therapist’s Couch, Wanting to Throw Something at Her
Me, codependent? I honestly don’t see what the problem is. 'That’s part of your problem!' she said.
Tanza says I’m “codependent.”
I mean, that wasn’t even a word until that (in)famous book, Codependent No More: How to Stop Controlling Others and Start Caring for Yourself, became the gazillion-selling bible of the self-help crowd – and that was way back in the 20th century. (OK, it came out in 1987; I just like saying ‘20th century’).
All I know about codependence is that it means something like two people making each other worse, like if one’s a drug addicted son, and the mother keeps defending and enabling him. So naturally, I rebelled when Tanza told me that I was codependent.
Then, she started listing all the characteristics of classic codependency, and I wanted to throw a pillow at her, because if there’s one thing that gets on my nerves, it’s being labeled. Surely I can’t be that predictable (especially since I work so hard not to be).
Of course, the reason I’m seeing a psychologist is to figure stuff out, so that 1) I’ll no longer have that nagging fear about losing weight (losing myself, my protection, etc.) and 2) I can recognize and therefore resist destructive behaviors (bulimia, negative self-talk, etc.) that really just make everything so much worse.
I’ve told you before I have a love/hate relationship with Tanza. She truly is an amazingly gifted and talented therapist, and that’s what I also dislike about her: No one has ever been able to make me spill the beans about everything like she has. She knows more about the real me than anyone else on this planet has or ever will. Kinda gets on my nerves.
Me, codependent? I honestly don’t see what the problem is. “That’s part of your problem!” she said, as I silently calculated the velocity and degree of pitch necessary to bean her with one of the couch pillows. Anyway, she says I’m codependent because I’m always:
· Taking care of everyone else’s needs before of my own, and feeling really good and fulfilled by such self-sacrifice. (I seriously don’t see the problem here.)
· Being in denial about the above.
· Not wanting to fully express my own needs, instead just dropping hints and hoping for the best.
· Feeling frustrated and resentful because of the above.
· Having a hard time identifying my true feelings, or minimizing them so as not to hurt others.
· Feeling embarrassed when complimented or praised.
· Always buying stuff for those I care about.
· Staying loyal, even when I know it’s a bad or unhealthy situation.
· Accepting sex when what I really want is love.
· Having to feel needed in order to have a relationship with others.
There you have it. And I absolutely hate that it’s all true. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
But dealing with this final hurdle will earn my freedom from therapy, because I’m certain Tanza will then kick me to the curb, and that is just fine with me.
So I have work to do, and yet another, freakin’ book to buy. I just left Tanza a message about a newer book, The New Codependency: Help and Guidance for Today’s Generation. It’s by Melody Beattie, the author of Codependent No More, except it just came out last year. I think I’d rather read that one than something written 23 years ago.
Guess what? If codependency is left unresolved, it can lead to stuff like alcoholism, drug addiction, eating disorders and sex addiction. Also, it can progress to big-time social anxiety disorders like social phobia, avoidant personality disorder or extreme shyness, or stress-related stuff like depression and PTSD.
Still, there’s a bit of controversy about this stuff. Some mental health professionals don’t think codependency is not a negative trait, but a healthy personality trait taken to excess. And that’s how I feel, really. I know in my heart I’m a really caring person. So much so, I try to keep that part of me under wraps, because the second I feel that someone is trying to take advantage, I get resentful, and the claws come out.
(Crap. Tanza’s right again, isn’t she?)
I have a right to my anger, and I don't want anybody telling me I shouldn't be, that it's not nice to be, and that something's wrong with me because I get angry. ~ Maxine Waters
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