Judgment Day

So... It's been a while, but not too long. I'm working on a book called, “When your best isn't good enough” - Story of my life. Ha.
I'm also working on myself and my work. I've been getting busy. Which honestly, I'm a bit worried about. I think I feel some external pressure from my husband because he's so psyched about how much money I'm making and he feels strapped. I think he wants to keep up with me, he's suggested going to get some contracts if he's not going back to business school.

I definitely feel better about where I am in business, however, I don't feel I'm caught up yet. I got all this business so quickly and now it's almost like I feel guilty saying no. To who though? Most likely to my dad. Conveniently, I have heard from him and my half brother unfortunately. While I used to make fun of them on this blog. I notice that I don't think my childhood was nearly as funny right now, considering that my brother went totally nuts. Apparently, he's HIV positive and psychotic and off his meds. This is always good news from your dad to whom you haven't talked in two years. Always, a shock. I notice that when I started writing this blog, I made a lot of fun of my childhood and felt really good about that. It was cathartic and it was helpful.

I think I have come to terms with the fact through a lot of self help and work that my child hood was actually quite traumatic. My own self-blame comes from my dad going agro on me for 2 days after I lost a tennis tournment. Oh, right, bitch, we're not going to talk to you because you LOST. Actually, here's the beauty of my thoughts about myself as “crazy, sane, bad, good” etc- these were the common definitions in my house. My dad would get angry if I “showed emotion”. I don't know how many Fucking lectures I got on “showing emotions, not being tough, letting that girl get to me, getting unsettled”. It was ALL about showing emotions. This is a pretty big deal to me right now as what I worry about is showing emotion. I worry that if anyone knows that I have anxiety that I will revela some big secret. I'm trying to get more accepting about this right now, but it's been a challenge. I know that I'm getting hired because I'm anxiety and because I'm real. I'm not so worried about that. However, I remember that when I showed emotion on the tennis court and got down on myself, my dad would scream at me even worse. In other words, it wasn't about winning or losing for him (well it was) but not as much as it was about being something that I wasn't. It was all about SHOWING something that I wasn't. If I was frustrated with my own tennis on the court, I would get punished because I was showing weakness. I thought it was a self-fulfilling prophecy because I knew I would get punished, so I already self-defeated. Hence, it explains all the weed I smoked in high school.

Anyway, I remember one day after a tennis match that I lost badly. My dad screamed at me like there was no tomorrow. He was so angry I didn't know if he would throw something at me. He would throw temper tantrums and you never know. I cried for 4 hours on the way home from Kennewick fucking Washington traumatized about that experience. He didn't talk to me for 3 days afterwards.

Judgment day!


That's how it's gone down since. How do I come to terms with this crazy judgment call I have from someone with the emotional reality and ability of a two year old?

When I saw my dad recently, I panicked more than ever. I hadn't heard from him in 3 years. He calls me to tell me my brother is crazy and ask for professional help. Then a week later, after telling him I don't want to be involved, I run into him at a park where I run. He had the nerve to ask me about my half brother and tell me his contact with him. I told him again I wanted nothing to do with it. My father has disappointed me so much. I thought he had a heart. The only reason he told me about my half brother after 1 year of this type of behavior was because he did not want to deal with him anymore on his own. My dad is a two year old.

I have realized that I am judging myself by the standards of a two year old. I think this is sad.

My goal right now, is to get back to blogging. And get back to my LIGHT HEARTED BLOGGING!!! It needs to be in my schedule! 1 hour a day. Have fun with it! Where did my fantastic sense of humor go? I am pretty serious about being a Jew lately. It's pretty funny to be a jew right? It's pretty funny to work with people with disabilities that you call nuggets. It's pretty funny to have a life where after 4 months of building a business, you are at a place where you are making 3 times as much as you were 1 year ago.

Get back to taking self-care. Regardless of having a job, part of that job is being centered for my clients. I need to stay on center, otherwise I'm useless for my clients, I'm going to burn out and I'm going to get overwhelmed. I know that I have anxiety, unlike my brother who is just crazy. I know that I have problems and I know that it's important to take care of them. Please help me be reasonable. I NEED TO DO MY HOMEWORK! I need to sit down with my husband and read about anxiety. Read about self help. Read about everything. I feel much more connected to myself now and self aware and listening to my signals. However, I need to be happier and more funny. Things need to be humorous. Keep it light. My job is light. I need to stay light.

I need to stay centered and know what type of contracts that I am picking up. I need to reduce my anxiety and lower it, not listen to what my husband's body language reads. Fuck that- that's the old me. I'm good about monitoring my anxiety and recognizing my limitations. It's important to be realistic with myself and with others. Right now, I'm getting overwhelmed and I need to drop the things I don't want to do, even if they pay more.

Fuck. I always figure shit out on this blog. It's the only way for me to get my head in gear. Thanks, writing for letting me get my head on straight and simplified.

Namaste

Internal Struggle with external event

INTERNAL BATTLE

I'm fighting with myself again. I have started blaming myself, questioning my actions and continually doing so, about everything. Today, what the fuck am I doing? Things didn't turn out as planned and communication was not clear about what was happening. So I'm blaming myself, others, whoever. I'm blaming. I'm angry. And I'm struggling. I am judging myself from this higher power that I don't even know where it's coming from. Well, actually, I know exactly where it's coming from, but I didn't think it was still so strong.

I'm angry that I could be where I am right now considering all the work I've done. I'm pissed at myself for dropping the ball on my anxiety exercises. I'm upset that my husband's shrink thinks I need Xanax. I'm angry that I'm at this place again, given all the work I've done. Do I have to continue this over and over? It's so annoying., Two weeks ago, I was content, present, here. Now life throws you lemons and yeah, I DO the right thing. But I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm the only one who can't deal with it. This was a huge deal. It was something that anyone would have been upset about. However, I happened to be in a place where no one was. My husband is not an emotional person. He was not worried about it. Neither were his parents, although they don't react to anything. I feel completely incapable of handling anything and this is ALL coming from my dad. I feel that I need to be punished or seomthing for feeling bad about this. I don't know how a small contact with my dad could be so damaging. I KNOW that he is toxic.



Moreover, I'm pissed that I let my dad affect me so much. That fucking son of a bitch calling me out of the blue. And re entering my life only to have me set a limit and watch him run out again. Only this time at the expense of another life. My brother's life. This time, it's really over with that side of the family. I'm done. I don't want anytthing to do with them. I don't want to be affiliated with them. I don't want to see them and I don't want to know them. I get angry at myself when I see my own hands that remind me of them- my brother or my dad. I get angry at myself when I hear myself using a dad voice, or sounding like my dad. I hear him in me, or my brother in me, the more angry I am at them, the more I am at me too.

I just had a talk about this with my massage therapist. She always gives me perspective. She is someone who is extremely emotionally connected and wise. She is also centered and knows how to process. She suggested that my brother is actually on meth and talked about it as a process of addiction. Which is something that I didn't really fathom before. While I was literally panicking while I was talking to her and telling her the intial story about my brother, I recognized that I was judging myself extremely harshly. By my dad's standards. However, what I hadn't heard myself or anyone else say before was how harsh his judgments are. He is a Jewish Republican who doesn't associate with the Jewish religion and won't talk to the synagogue. In terms, he is a self- hating Jew and my brother is a self hating gay. My dad doesn't accept anyone who is different or who has a different way of doing things. That's not mine. It's not my shit at all. My massage therapist told me that I was judging myself under the harshest most rigid standards. Eventually, I calmed a bit and at least felt connected and my heart rate went down. She told me that was insanity and all the noise that was going on was craziness. I knew that, but it wasn't until I had some acknowledgment that this was a difficult situation to deal with. I felt (like my father) that this is not or “should not” be a problem. When in fact, this is a huge problem. It SHOULD tug at your heartstrings and it is difficult. This was a real heart to heart.

I also told her that when I was in Boston, I never had the chance to have that recognition immediately because I was around people who were not necessarily emotional. While my husband's parents are not totally toxic like my dad, I felt a certain amount of judgment from them. And I don't feel close to them or emotionally supported. I was all by myself. I didn't feel that my husband responded to it (hence some of the frustration and anger that I feel towards him – blaming now and then) and his parents listened, but his mother brushed it off as, “oh, my husband needs something. I'll call you back”. When I arrived, there was some discussion about what happened, but there is no listening, acknowledgment and support. My husband is supportive, but he is not emotional and things don't hit him like they hit me. I am an emotional person. I love being emotional. I love being highly sensitive! Life would be totally boring without it! I like the ride. As long as I don't continue to judge myself by my dad's standards. I'm not my husband and I'm not his parents. I'm not my dad and I'm not my brother. I am myself. With my panic, my racing heart, my insight... I will accept that without judgment and especially without my dad's fucked up judgment. He is a problem. He is not a bad person. He is who he is. He has a problem. He is an emotional two year old. He is toxic. Nobody has really confirmed that for me like it was confirmed today. My massage therapist told me, my therapist told me, my family and friends have told me. But something struck me today. About HOW bad it was. HOW fucked up. My massage therapist has that ability. TO respond to something and put it into perspective. Wow, what a mess. Yes.. it's whacked out. But it's as good as he can do.

I need to remember that ebing unlike other people is what makes me stand out and make change, not being what my dad wants. HE doesn't even know what he wants, and yet I continue to desire approval. He will never approve and his opinion has no more clout than that of a 2 year old. I will not give it any credence. POT. STAY. POT.

The Merry Go Round of Crazy

Here we go again on the crazy merry go round. The crazy merry go round. When the fuck do we ever just get the fuck off?

Yes, here I am, totally wound tight as a bow string. And this time, things at work are GREAT. Everyone tells me that I'm doing a phenomenal job. All I get is GOOD feedback from not only clients but from people at agencies that I contract through. I apparently am doing a kick ass job. Of course I am, I'm busting my fucking ass. Working as fucking hard as anyone could fucking work. Here I go, I feel an “asshole” comment coming on. I'm an asshole! Why the fuck do I need to work so hard to prove myself? And now, that I already proved myself? I continue to do it?

I know I am on the right path career wise. I feel that innately, and implicitly. I know I'm doing the right thing and all signs around me on the magic 8-ball are pointing to yes. However, the crazy merry go round is back. Someone should write a book on it. It's the fucking ride of your life. And you just put one foot on it, and think you can get off, which you could, but for some reason, you just watch yourself unable to remove yourself. As if your fucking feet are duck-taped to one of those god damn little benches with the psycho ducks that you can ride. I never understood why they put ducks on the merry go rounds. No one rides a duck. You go on a merry go round to ride a horse.

Anyway, I digress, I'm swept away by the merry go round and it's like some crazy carnie amped up on meth won't let me off the ride. I can totally see myself on the ride though, I'm totally aware of what I'm doing, but somehow I can't get off until I feel totally overwhelmed and crazy.

I'm so fucking disappointed in myself. For some reason, assine as it is, I believed that as soon as I took myself out of the crazy situation, that I would be fine. Oh!!! HA! 6 months later, as my husband put it to me, I just got around to getting work. I thought that was okay. At least I'm following my heart. Look at him! He sticks around at whatever job until crisis arises and his ass is literally on fire until he leaves. Apparently, taking cues from him got me nowhere. Yet, he throws at me that it took me 6 months to get my shit together. You know what, I took care of myself. I traveled, I lived, I paid attention. I did what I need to do to keep myself balanced. For him, it's all about money. Fuck him and his anal worries. Yes, it is about money. But isn't mental health more important. It reminds me of that bumper sticker, “if you're not outraged, you're not paying attention”. He's not paying attention. In fact, I took him to meditation with me once, and he told me that he was doing math problems in his head. This is not meditation. This is not paying attention to the present. I have the opposite problem. I have to bring myself back to the present from worry and obsessive thoughts about work or what I “have to” do. My demands upon myself, my incessant problem solving. And he's doing math problems to keep from falling asleep. I'm so jealous I can't think straight!

So, this entry is not about my husband, although we'll talk more about him later. I retract any statement about feeling guilty about taking time off. I DO NOT and will not regardless of his shit. I am currently making more than he is and I'm not even working full time. So whatever.

So, after I took the time off, I moved forward. I went towards my calling. It feels good to be doing what is true to myself. It started out great. However, I had a full caseload in literally 2.5 months after I went into the first developmental disability agency. Validation if you want it- you're good. We need you. However, the family and my husband were by no means amazed by this. If anything, they expected it from me. Of course, because this is what people are used to from me. It's not about being gradual, it's about GETTING IT DONE. That's what I always do, that's what expected of me and that's how people treat me. When my husband and mom were supportive of me before, they would support me doing the smallest things, like going to a class that I had to make a presentation at. I was so nervous, I didn't sleep the night before, I could barely bring myself to go in. And all for a couple seconds of panic. They would give me props for taking time off, taking care of my own needs. This made me feel like I was doing well given that I have an anxiety disorder. However, now I put together my own business, it's as if the anxiety disorder never existed. Not just for them, but for me too.

First thing that happened, I had 6 interviews in one week and I had to turn down two clients. I have all this happen and I have to ask them to go out for a celebration dinner. No one is even remotely excited. Everyone's just like, “I'm so proud of you, I knew you could do it”. It's totally conditional and not related at all to anxiety. No one even talks about that. Which is the worst thing ever.

Following, the next two weeks were seriously stressful. I was running around in fucking circles. I was totally frazzled. Not in a total anxiety attack mode again, but simply frazzled. I needed to STOP and SIT DOWN. I would continue to feel it when I came home because my husband would be sitting on the couch waiting for me. What's that about? Whenever we had plans, I had to make them as usual. I am once again in charge, the one doing all the work everywhere.

Soon, we start fighting. First, about money. Which makes no sense, because it's the first month that we have any income. So bad, that I have to leave the apartment and spend the night at my mom's house. A pattern, me in tears, him arguing about absolutely nothing. I can't even figure out what he's arguing about. And later all he can say is sorry and that he doesn't know what he's arguing about and why he's so defensive.

More, I get full, I start working more, I'm starting to feel more stress. I'm getting more and more wound up, more and more labile. Regardless of the fact that my clients love me and I'm getting constant validation, I can't manage my own anxiety. I start feeling it physically again.
1.tight jaw,
2.can't look people in the eye without having a surge of adrenaline
3.worry about social interactions
4.can't stay presentation
5.have nightmares about my husband and relationships
6.cry more because I'm so upset with myself.
7.Have buzzing energy going on inside me as if I'm on an electric fence when I'm around other people – mostly friends not family or clients.
8.Increased neck tension
9.Feel pressure to get to yoga and meditation
10.When I don't get there, I blame myself and get tremendous guilt.

And soon enough, here I am again. I'm feel totally lost again. Why am I so incapable of handling life? Why can't I be happy for what I have? How do I stop? How do I feel better and just be calm? It's beyond me again. It's like I knew where it was, but now I'm totally confused again. I feel like crying and just not stopping. I don't know what to do anymore. I already went through this.

I guess what I'm dealing with is that my anxiety is not an external thing. I always thought it was. I always thought it was triggered by something. I wanted it not to be me. Apparently it is me, it was me all along. It's all my fault. Or, it just means that I have an anxiety disorder that I can't control and it limits me in some things. So how do I manage then? How do I live effectively with anxiety? Especially with my work? How do I deal with the unknown without flipping out with these questions? I'm sending this entry to my therapist.

Sorry about the crazy talking guys. This has been a long and stupid break. I need to know that I can't neglect myself. I can't leave myself alone, I must maintain otherwise no one else will do it for me.

1.I must write in my journal/blog
2.I must be honest about my anxiety and how I feel it's limiting me and then challenge those limitations
3.I must go to meditation once a week (one of two days)
4.I must go to yoga at least one day a week.
5.I must monitor my anxiety levels on a daily basis on both physical and mental anxiety.

I still feel this tremendous pressure from my family and husband that I must succeed. He even went so far as to tell me that if I keep obsessing about everything that I'm going to lose my clients. These things stick in my head. They feel abusive. I can't deal with things like that. It serious places me in a total state of panic. I feel like I am going to lose all my clients. In my case, it seems to improve my performance when I'm told that I won't succeed. This probably comes from my dad and mom telling me I'm never good enough, even though I'm still at the top of my class, still ranked in tennis and still playing in a nationally renowned orchestra. My performance is still never fucking good enough. But it's always good. That's the only thing that I have faith in- I hope. I just like to worry about it apparently. It's called self-torture.

How many irrational beliefs can you pull out of this entry?

How do I ground myself? And remember that whatever I do isn't my life? How do I achieve balance again when adding in work? Why can't I adjust to this? Why can't I adjust to work when I like my work?

Relapse- check in

So, it's been a long time.

It's so interesting how when things start progressing and moving forward how we are so likely to begin the cycle once again of neglecting ourselves. Or at least it is for me. I realized that I stopped monitoring my anxiety in my calendar, stopped making it a ritual for yoga again, stopped talking honestly to anyone about my anxiety. Stopped talking to my blog, which is more important for developing insight that any other outlet I have ever discovered. While I have been “productive”, I find myself needing to stop and take a check in on just how productive I am being.

Yes, I am an overachiever, and yes I tend to try and get everything done RIGHT NOW. With my work, this is very effective for running your own business. I feel good and balanced about what I am doing. I am relieved to know that I am staying in social work and working with people with disabilities. However, I always have fleeting doubts about whether I am capable of handling it. Am I strong enough anxiety wise to manage this job. On the other hand, I am also reminded that I have an amazing ability to relate to people with DD. I just connect with disabilities for some reason. Maybe it's because I have one myself- anxiety is something I am able to use in my work with people. I'm able to use myself in my pro-active so much more. In fact, if I don't use myself, that's when it doesn't work. I have been able to stay present in building a business. But it built up so quickly. That's part of the reason I haven't been writing.

But there's always a reason to write. It's necessary to monitor my anxiety. It's necessary to make sure the disconnectedness doesn't come back. It's necessary to check yourself before you wreck yourself G. It's necessary to maintain my ability to stay present without falling back into feelings of lack of control and panic related to initial meetings with friends, especially.

It's interesting that having an anxiety disorder and recognizing it is really like going through a 12 step program. First, accept that you have the anxiety. Accept is as part of yourself. Accept that no matter what you do, even if you are anxious, is as good as you can and you don't always need to do better or outdo others. It's interesting because in the work that I do now, I don't feel that need. It's refreshing. I do good enough for my clients. I was proud of myself, because last week, I got so busy that I forgot a meeting with a new brokerage. Instead of stressing it all weekend, I sent out an email to apologize, called the woman first thing Monday and apologized and rescheduled. Instead of babbling out a lying excuse, like some substance abuse client would (OMG I couldn't get to treatment today because I took a mental health day), I simply explained that I overbooked myself and forgot. She was TOTALLY cool about it.

What' I realize is that brokerage systems are constantly reminding me that I don't have to be perfect. In fact, I make top dollar as a contractor because my notes are great, I stay on top of stuff, I get great feeback from clients. People consider me professional and extremely capable of relating to a variety of people. I met my last two new clients last week and they both really liked me. They were happy to work with me, they trusted me and apparently, one of them doesn't trust anyone. I DON'T have to be perfect. The only people that demand things of me are the job development clients. In fact, I am considering dropping one of them and have been extremely direct with one's case manager because I know she is drinking. I know because I did that. I'm not interested in dealing with someone who isn't serious and it's not my fucking problem. I don't want anything to do with substance abuse. At this point, tis a forever statement. It's not necessary, I don't want it, I'm not a fucking sick ass psychopath who doesn't care about myself and is so self-deprecated to be manipulated by sick fuckers who can't stop using meth but won't even admit that they use it. I'm not interested in the bullshit lies that go along with it. The great thing about my current position is that I don't have to. I can drop whoever whenever I want. And the great thing is the because I am doing what I do (a niche), they need me. I'm professional, I'm unique and I'm able to use my personality.

This is really important to me. I would rather be on my own and working with a population who isn't trying to one up you and figure you out with everything they do than work with a bunch of fucking losers who will do anything to keep the attention off themselves. Fuck that. People with disabilities have real problems that come as a result of something they have to endure rather than some other shit that someone put on them. With them, it's themselves they struggle with. It's not everyone else's fault. I don't deal well with everyone else's fault. FUCK YOU. You did something to end up here bitch.

Not that it's a big deal, but I also get to wear whatever. I can act as a model to others as far as behavior rather than a lack of identity social worker. I have heard repeatedly that I am an inspiration to people and that I am making a difference, I am helping. This is so refreshing. That's why I started this. I didn't start it to become a martyr or self-abuse. I also didn't start it to become God. I started it because you notice little differences in people's quality of life when you become a part of it. I must just have that gift. I don't think it's something to have to get into my head, just a recognition. If I connect with someone, I can impact their lives.

There's a distinction that needs to be made here. When I'm a social worker, I have to maintain a personal and professional identity. I can do that as LONG as everyone at the agency is doing it too and I am supported in doing this. However, I can't do it as the odd man out. Now, when I go to an interview and wear a hat, skinny jeans, a tank, jacket and a scarf, I am told that it's to benefit the client because it makes them feel like I am funky and cool. This benefits the client because people with DD also need someone they can look up to. In fact, I landed a client because she liked heels and I talked to her about my own heel obsession.

Anyway, these are the positives. I need to remember them too. I'm kind of all over the place today. However, it's important to continue to MONITOR myself. When I stop, I lost focus. I can't see my protective shield. I start worrying about nervous energy. I start judging myself. I start arguing with others and feel unsupported. I have to support myself. I have to let all this shit out on the computer. I have to blog. It's important to continue to be sane for me. There are many things that I need for my anxiety. I have identified meditation as one. Yoga was one before summer hit and I'm in the middle of a 100 degree heat wave. WTF- who would want to go to Bikram yoga in 100 degree heat? I'm not that crazy.

It's okay when I can't do everything. I need to recognize that I have chosen to train for a marathon right now. That is hugely time consuming. I HAVE to run. This is obviously an irrational belief. I don't have to. However, there are consequences if I don't get in the mileage. I am extremely strong right now. I feel great. I have no injuries. I'm recovering quickly. My 50k is in 3 weeks, marathon is in 8, other 50k is 4weeks after that. I'll qualify for my maniac title and retire for a while in the running department. Not really, just SLOW DOWN. It's okay to miss an art class. It's okay to miss a meditation at Saturday at 8am. I can sleep in. I go every Wednesday. It's important for me to force myself to sit from time to time. It slows me down and makes me feel normal. I have the ability to stay present.

My assignment from my therapist was to mess up. I'm practicing being more human instead of worrying about someone's completely inhuman expectations of me. Sometimes, I still feel anger towards her as a trigger person. But I know what I would do now. Even though I'm sure I would be in full panic while doing it.

I like that my panic is now situational rather than random. Triggers include thinking that I see someone who looks like my dad, seeing someone (a friend or business venture- anyone for a meeting). Anticipation causes anxiety. However, only at times. For example, I got really anxious Thursday when meeting 2 potential clients. However, Friday, I had an interview with a new company and I didn't panic. When I am active, busy or when the focus is not solely on me. I feel like I am better at being myself once settled into a situation. I am connected. However, I have flashes sometimes, like “what if” it comes back? What if it gets worse again?

I know I'm doing my calling for work. I also know that the last 3 weeks have been a great universal connection where I have been busting my ass trying to get “everything done”. I'm not really sure what that means, but I know what pressures me. I need to have everything “done” before I can relax. I don't really understand if that's little errands or whatever. It varies from day to day. Maybe my anxiety is a biological issue too. I wake up some mornings feeling HIGHLY anxious. I take Kava. I'm still highly anxious. However, other days, I wake up and I'm highly relaxed. On a plane. I feel calm as a Hindu cow. Maybe it has something to do with my activities, but I think it's more existing already.

When I'm highly anxious, one beer will relax me where I'm right myself. I can be focused. This is better than before, but I'd prefer it not so at all. But even if it is, that's okay. It's okay to just be. When I stop worrying about what's going on where, I feel more grounded. I think that writing really helps. Just express it when it comes up, and deal. There might need to be a structured blog time. Maybe every Saturday for an hour. I'll come to a bar, get a beer and write. It's therapeutic and might help with some of the anticipatory anxiety that I feel. Completely unrelated, but makes me centered. Let's me be more aware of myself.

There are so many thoughts that I have, I realize this is a long and somewhat disjointed post. It's because I haven't been checking in with myself weekly. It's amazing the insight that you can have just by writing for a while.

Triggers: maybe running into anyone who I have some highly charged energy about- old friendships that ended, dad, old boss. Anxiety about looking stupid to people. This is something important. It's important to use my protective shield. No one is here to hurt me. I know when they are, I use my intuition and kick them out of my life. I have a close protective circle that I can relax into. I need to call friends, even thought I don't have the time. I don't have to be a perfect worker. I can talk to friends on my trips to and from my Wednesdays. I have resources, I just need to use them.

The blog especially.
Peace

Thirty Something

So, it's official. I'm now well into my thirties. Well, actually, I'm not technically “well into my thirties”, but pretty much anywhere in the thirties means that you are now officially in your thirties. No more, twenty something, no more calling yourself a “transitional” adolescent. Now it's time to really say that you're an adult. Oh my god that's depressing. Being an adult is never good. That means that it's time to stop screwing around and go get a god damn real job and stop attending hip hop shows.

You know that you're thirty when you go to a hip hop show and everyone around you looks about Miley Cyrus' age or like they stepped off Nick at Nite. I didn't know that those kids were allowed to go to hip-hop shows. It's like, did you tell your parents that you were going to see Kanye West or did you just sneak out looking like Christina Aguilera (pre-pregnancy, circa 2002). Also, how did you get to walk in those stilettos? It's unbelievable how little kids first of all look more trendy than most adults and that they are able to walk around like Carrie Bradshaw in a pair of 4 inch stilettos. What do they do, practice in front of a mirror?

You know you're thirty when you go to a race where you get a free beer at the finish line. But, instead of carding you (they carded my husband), the woman says to me, “I don't need your ID, I can tell by your hands”. What? My hands? I looked down at my hands and then at hers. I wondered why black fingernail polish (not the goth kind, the Mary Kate Olsen kind) classified as “post 21” era and her old wrinkly hands weren't the actual topic of speculation. True to west Coast style, I bit my tongue. To this day, I have no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean. I still look at my hands and wonder. They aren't particularly wrinkly, or veiny (although I had just run a ½ marathon). Whatever.

You know you're thirty when they actually justify to you why they card you in bars. Here's the situation. How many times has this actually happened to you? You say, “thanks- I love getting carded.” and the bartender responds, “we have to card everyone who looks under 35”. Thanks asshole. That's a real winner thing to say. I was simply saying it felt nice to get carded and you deride the whole compliment with an undercut. That's when you tell the bartender that he looks “too old” to be working as an underpaid restaurant in a dive bar like this. It's really time for him to do something with his life!

You know you're thirty when you go to the cosmetic store and they start trying to sell you “anti wrinkle” cream. I love how they try to justify it with, “oh now, you don't have any wrinkles, we just want to prevent them. We sell this to people in their twenties”. Look Mary Kay, I don't care who you sell this to, if you have something to say about my laugh lines, I need to know. Because I don't want to end up like Nicole Kidman. 40 looking younger than she did at 25. It's not cool to “suddenly” look younger. You need to start the Botox process as a preventative measure like Jennifer Aniston. She looks the same age as she did on Friends, just better. Check out her skin? What do you think scored her John Mayer. She had no sudden change in her looks. She simply “maintained” her appearance by getting work done before there was a problem. On the other hand, Nicole decided when she saw a laugh line about 4 years ago to “nip” it in the bud and had some serious work done. Then suddenly she showed up at the Oscars looking like a female “Lestat” (vampire reference to those of you who haven't kept up on Ann Rice novels). Her skin so fair and smooth, she looked like a porcelain doll. No, that's not natural and it's blatantly obvious that she's had work done. See the sudden change is the part that's embarrassing. When you get botoxed for the first time and you had let the skin start to sag already, just admit that you had something done. There is no reason to pretend that your skin is just getting better as you age. That's like Michael Jackson saying that he didn't have plastic surgery. Oh wait, he still claims that he didn't have any work done. Whatever. I think all work is acceptable. But to lie about it is a problem. At least Goldie Hawn says in her drunken stupor, “hell yeah I've had work done”. And honestly, she does look pretty good still. Well, I guess Nicole got her karma because she ended up with Keith Urban (what is he like 30 going on 60? And did he ever get out of rehab?). So I digress, but the idea is that if I'm going into the cosmetic store and they are selling me anti wrinkle cream, I'd appreciate it if they were more direct and just told me, “it's time to do a little Botox”. I don't want to be in Nicole Kidman's situation.

You know you're thirty when you lie about your age. I lied about my age for the first time today. I felt somewhat guilty about it, but then I didn't. I was talking to an acquaintance about the fact that it was my birthday yesterday. She asked how old I was. I laughed because I just had a conversation with my friend this morning that it's “good to be 29”. I am forever 29. Sort of like Fran Drescher says. I liked 29 and will forever remain 29. So, here I was. Would I actually enforce this rule? I guess so. I blurted out, “29” as I laughed. She believed me of course, because who would actually lie about their age by 2 years. I guess there's a limit. Ha. She said, “you really are young!”. I found myself searching the young things that I still did. Like, “I'm going to a show tonight”. (pause waiting for the question). “What show?”. “Hip hop”. (wait for the laugh). There it is! She laughed and thought it was funny. I said, “since I'm not thirty yet, I don't have to grow up yet”.
*Side note: Why is okay for black people over thirty to go to hip hop shows and not okay for white people over 30 to go to hip hop shows. In fact, if white people go to hip hop shows over 30, they usually end up looking like Tom Cruise at the Kanye West show. I just have a question. That kills clout for Kanye. While he is an asshole and sports and attitude the size of Texas (by the way, don't you like those new vacation ads for Texas that say, Texas, it's like a whole different country- hello, isn't it?), you know you've sold out when you let Tom Cruise come to your show and dance on a pole. There's got to be a limit. As a hip hop star, I would ban Tom Cruise from my show. I wouldn't let him in. In fact, I would have him cavity searched at the door. No wait, too enjoyable for him. I would have him beheaded at the door. I would have his real height announced over loud speaker to the crowd. No more of those Jason Priestley style platforms Tom, the cat's out of the bag.

Back to the point. I also busted out with some other young things and even language. Oh yea, “a bunch of us” are going away for the weekend. Who says that? That's like so high school. A bunch of us are going down to the strip club, wanna join? A bunch of us are planning to go to the football game. A bunch of us, is either the alternative to “I want you to think I'm really cool and have lots of friends” or I'm still in high school. I take option number two! Ding ding ding.

You know you're thirty when you start putting pressure on yourself to “figure” your shit out. Figure out your life and what the hell you are doing. I don't really want to get into all that because it's depressing. But it's like, everyone around you decides to “get married, have children and purchase houses”. So, duh, it's time to start popping some buns in the oven, interviewing real estate agents, and looking for Vera Wangs. You know you're thirty ONE when you figured out that you really don't need those things or that you CAN'T have them yet. When reality hits, things really start to hit the fan. What do you mean I can't buy an apartment now? What do you mean that I have to save for 4 years considering the amount of debt that I've accumulated? What do you mean that I just have to keep my nose to the grindstone and dig in, waiting for the future and hard work to pay off. Well, sometimes, hard work doesn't pay off and 5 years later, you end up just where you are. Things have to change.

This is the time where you start accepting that this is reality and it's time to change things. Not just your perspective, but your relationships, your apartment, your lifestyle. You realize that things are going to be different. That's okay with you and you begin to understand that just because you are thirty, you have absolutely no idea what's going on. Sort of like your twenties, except older. And with increased paranoia about people finding out your true age.

On the upswing, this reality is way better than the people who throw themselves into undesirable situations to achieve these things. Most of these people end up getting divorced sooner or later anyway. In fact, they basically divert or postpone a midlife crisis until later in life. I'd like to deal with it, and move forward. Not have some gnawing issue attack me over and over for the rest of my life. How the hell am I supposed to pop a bun in the oven when I can't even afford to buy a house, or for that matter, figure out what my own mission in life is? I have decided that no one really knows their mission in life. Or if they do, when they reach it early, it turns out that they really didn't want it the way it played out anyway, or they become resigned to accept some reality that they never thought they would end up with. Too many people get to the point where they don't care anymore and decide that nothing they do could alter their reality.

I don't want to end up like one of those people. I need to enjoy the journey. 30, 31, or 29 forever. Doesn't really matter as long as I'm entertained for the ride. BTW- this isn't hugely related to social work today, just a vent.

It's not me, it's you.

I have finally been able to see that it wasn't all me. Getting back into the disability community, I realize that people- staff are still there, they haven't left their jobs from four years ago when I left. Not only that, but I know them. I get a warm welcome from people who I haven't seen in a while. Seeing the turnover in substance abuse, it's depressing and it shows me that most people can't fucking handle it. Not just me. Moreover, disability services must be doing something right if they're able to retain that many of their employees. It's so funny because if people are not in the same company, they have moved to another.

I have been going to trainings on both mediation and disability services. While I still feel a sense of trauma going in, I begin to realize that I'm not going to be attacked every time I say something and the anxiety and fear wears off with time- gradually. Not to say it won't come back with a vengeance, but I think all along, I've been thinking that I'm the crazy one. Now that I'm no longer surrounded by fucking scientologist brainwashed Social Workers, I begin to realize that people are real. That they give each other feedback, advice when they speak in class. There is a dialogue about comments you make. There is a recognition of different points of view. Not only that, but there is exchange and there is also emphasis on people “being on the same page” and “working as a team”. I notice that when I work with clients now, providers respect my opinion about “best practice”. If I set a boundary with a client off the bat and create rules, it's up to me because it's my own practice and people are respectful and not only that, but ask me for advice due to my experience. While I don't need to be considered as the “end all be all” of mental health, it's nice to know that people respect your experience and ask for what you think about that. I feel appreciated and positive about my abilities. I am getting a bit more confident while I still struggle with anxiety. I don't feel like I have to be perfect in everything. I can just be good enough.

It's good to see that I fit in so much better here. In fact, I feel welcomed for my efforts and my knowledge, not put down or ignored. I share a perspective with people. It's interesting as well because these people are not necessarily totally educated or anything, they just have an understanding of people and empowerment. In my belief, I think you can be a better social worker without getting a degree. It keeps you saner and doesn't brain wash you.

Note: It's shocking to me that substance abuse services are so poor on the West Coast. I don't know if it's just my state, or if it's the entire west coast. However, I noticed on the East Coast that disability services was totally backward and substance abuse services were more advanced. The people who were better at substance abuse services (those on the east coast) embraced research and evidence based practice to move the field forward as a scientific method rather that some personal vendetta of the “normies” against the “addicts”. The people on the west coast who are better at disability services are people with OUT master's degrees. Interesting that there are not many people with master's degrees who go into disability services. Well, so what? I guess that's where I fill a void.

Taking classes on communication and conflict, it becomes more and more evident (there is proof scientifically) that my supervisor was, in fact, a psycho bitch and while I knew this before, I thought maybe it was just me. No, she was really insane and had no idea how to communicate. I'm still working on maitri with her (don't think that will be possible in the near future), but I think that I have recently been able to separate myself a bit more effectively from this weird group of people that make no sense and most likely will always be an enigma – like Scientology – and will hopefully remain so.

I think I got to this point where I was so traumatized by my work, that the only way I could work was to entirely separate myself off “professional” and “personal” with no crossover whatsoever. This was not only not effective, but damaging to me. I think it's important to have boundaries with clients, however, these should come naturally to a person and should be discussed when working in an agency. Many people have different ideas of boundaries and so, there should be a norm discussed (as was evident in my field studies). However, there cannot be one person with boundaries and an entire agency without any. I have realized that my boundaries were continually tested and I was told that boundaries were wrong. I should be more casual, I should care less, I should eat McDonalds for lunch. But god forbid, I shouldn't express knowledge or an opinion because it's frowned upon.

I have learned that it's impossible for a helping professional to remove themselves personally from their profession and it should not be so. If you do so, you lose all sense of your identity and your passion for helping. I have been reminded by a mentor and teacher that it is important to use yourself in your work. I have been working on this and reconditioning myself to do so. I have spent the past two years saying the myself is “wrong” and that I can't use myself in my work because I've been shot down every time I try to bring myself into it. Now, I'm reminded that I got into this profession for a reason. I didn't get into it to be a brainwashed unthinking, unemotional mental health professional. Someone who can't think or talk for themselves or express a simple viewpoint. If those are the type of people who are attracted to “therapy” roles, let them be. I just want nothing to do with them. I got into this profession because I have the ability to be motivating to clients and connect with people somehow. I don't know what it is, but I can do it. I can just be and affect people. I'm also good at figuring out how to help people solve problems. I need to be able to use this in my services. I am outgoing, motivated and encouraging. I have a different style than many and I won't allow my clients to play the victim. I will be direct with them and tell them where I am coming from. This is myself. No one else. It's not wrong, I won't apologize for it and if it doesn't work for an agency, then I'll go elsewhere to use it. If I can't be myself in my profession, it isn't worth it to me. I will leave.

This does not, however, mean that I do not have the ability to set boundaries. It is not appropriate to give your clients gifts, accept gifts from your clients or hang out with your clients. It is not appropriate to be friends with your clients or (obviously) sleep with your clients. It is important to set rules with your clients upfront about your style, give them expectations about what you do. And how you do it, so that when they go against the rules, they know because you can refer to your expectations or a contract they signed. While this is a somewhat personal relationship where the therapist uses themselves as a conduit for which the information comes through, it is still a profession. We are selling ourselves- somewhat like prostitutes. Except without the sex- duh- you guys refer to rule one! We are selling ourselves to people as vessels to improve their lives. Whether there is some personal stuff that contributes to that or not, it is important to think of ourselves as running a business and how we run that business is how we handle ourselves personally.

More later.

All the eggs in whose basket?

It's important to maintain one's sense of self. It is ALWAYS important never to put all your eggs in one basket. When we go about life where we try to put all our energy towards one goal, we neglect most other things in our lives. If we dedicate ourselves entirely to a career, we often neglect our family.
If we dedicate ourselves to a family, we neglect friends (think of all those people who have babies and are suddenly unable to do anything. And if they do happen to invite you over for dinner, there you are trying to have a conversation with the person, who can't seem to pull meaning from any more than two words that you utter in a row because they are so absorbed in the baby. They kindly pretend to listen to your story about trying to buying an apartment or dating a new guy or even a funny story about some asshole who was hassling you in the mall, but they honestly could give a shit less. In fact, what they are really thinking about is when they last changed the kids diapers, whether they need to take the kid to the doctor if they don't stop crying soon, or admiring their new stroller purchase- speaking of which, how boring are these people to spend time with? I have always thought it would be fun to test them- tell them you were recently raped in a matter of fact tone, and they would nod and smile politely. But if you actually told them you were pregnant you would get the earth shattering ear piercing scream of a sorority girl who just scored a date with Tom Brady.).

All of us know people like this. It is the most frustrating thing to be around if you are single or are married and just don't want to treat your kids like they were the number one reason for the existence of the universe and the number one reason for high school friendships to deteriorate. One of my best friends had a kid and suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. If you tried to spend time with her, her attention span was about as expansive as Paris Hilton's vocabulary, “That's hot”. I have kind of let go of friends like this, because unless you decide to be just like them and join the parents anonymous group, you really have no chance of breaking through the insanity.

Not to be hypocritical, I'm sure that when I have a kid, I will be very focused on it for a while and excited. However, I don't plan to structure my life around trying to find the perfect baby clothes and being the perfect housewife. I fully intend to continue a career and be emotionally capable of leaving my kid at home with a sitter or a nanny while I go out with my husband. I want to be able to send it to summer camp and let it learn to separate from me, to be an individual. I don't want it to be codependent upon me, unable to spend one waking moment without me (many of my friends, who didn't have enough money to afford a baby, so spend every second with it and never go out or have lives- even after 4 years). I fully realize the impact a child can have on your life and that's why prior to having one I plan to a. want a child, and b. be financially satisfied with my life and have a set career. I do NOT want to be the mom who all she can talk about is her kid. She completely loses her identity and can't carry on a conversation about herself. You (much less she) have no idea who the fuck she is anymore. All you see is an empty shell of a person who has sacrificed everything for being a mother. This is not my idea of a fulfilling life. This is for people who can't fill a void that they have in their lives, so they decide to distract themselves by throwing themselves fully into the role of “mommy”. Sad thing about this is that when the kid gets to be 18, not only do you have a child who is has serious separation anxiety problems, or hates his parents, you have the same void waiting to be filled when they leave for college. Only then, you're all alone while your husband is probably off having an affair because you've lost track of your relationship and it's twenty years since you've had a job or any idea of what you want to do. Yes, that's a bit depressing and may be a slight exaggeration, but totally true.

All I know is that I haven't heard as many people at 30 complaining that they haven't had children yet. Most people talk about how they had children too young and wish they would have waited because it seems like they've “lost the last few years of my life”. When I see women with two children at my gym telling me, “gosh I miss not having children. These are the only moments to myself”, I feel justified in my decision to wait until I have my own shit settled before screwing up a kid.
Okay, that's enough of my rampage on people who can't stop following their babies around or tracking every fart or burp that passes through their baby's body. But, you catch my drift. This will be a God Bless America (ha) speech. As a country, we are obsessive people. We go full throttle with everything that we see in our lives. I am guilty of it too. In pursuit of being a licensed social worker, I spent four years sacrificing my entire life for one goal. In fact, I did it almost to the extent of burning myself out of social work completely. I felt that no matter what sacrifices needed to be made, they were going to be made. So, I sacrificed my social life, my relationship (to some extent, luckily he was nice enough to stick around and put up with my neuroses), and my interests putting them aside as “not important right now”. I was also reminded on a daily basis that there was something wrong with me and it wasn't that they were important, but that why would I need to engage in such activities.

The only thing that kept me going was running. Don't ask if I was “running away from my job” figuratively or literally, but I was running on a obsessive level, up to 70 miles a week, training for a marathon. I felt like this was the only thing that I could control. In fact, this was the only thing where I could set goals and reach them, and also maintain enough to get away from work.


But how is it fulfilling to spend your entire days getting up at the butt crack of dawn, running 6 miles, going to work for 8-10 hour days and then running another 6 miles at night, being the only way you could wind down enough to shut up about your job (that and guzzling three glasses of wine after your done). Oh, and if you mention you run at work, you hear, “it's really bad for your knees, I can't run”. Of course you can't run you uberfat ass- you weigh 300 lbs. I love how she gets heavier every time. So, hearing that my coping mechanisms weren't even good enough was pretty frustrating.

And they weren't, in fact. I ran until I couldn't even walk around. I was limping before the marathon from medial tendonitis. Nothing serious, but I thought maybe I had a torn miniscus which was a real scare. Sadly, this was the last straw as far as my job was concerned and when I decided to quit. I calculated that I spent roughly 40% of my income in the last two months of work on doctor's bills and massage and other “self care”. It's not like I was making shit anyway. I've never been so obsessive before in my life. I also recognized that if I didn't run that I would seriously not know what to do. I think I would have had a complete breakdown without running. Running and this event pretty much saved my life.

Anyway, I digress. The point is, that my entire identity was based upon doing something that was physically and emotionally painful for at least 40 hours a week and spent the rest of my free time trying to disengage from it, rather than actually letting my career be a part of who I was. I was trying to forget it. I felt like a shell of myself, and really literally was. This was a difficult time. I spent four months trying to piece myself together again, and only now, by making little steps do I realize how much work it took to rebuild.

So, the moral of the story is that you can't put all your eggs in one basket without losing yourself. At least for me being a Gemini, I have a lot of interests and things that I enjoy. My career is just a piece of that. There are way to many other things that are important to me and have helped me maintain balance in my life. These are the things that it's important to incorporate into my work and my life now. Achieve balance by utilizing ALL of my interests. Just because the social workers I was surrounded by did not have that need (granted most of the didn't have any interests), I do have it. And that does not make me crazy or a problem. It makes me unique and better than everyone else! I am a superior being (O: