That old melancholy feeling.

Tonight we booked one-way tickets to the US. In 5 weeks we'll be saying goodbye to New Zealand and starting anew somewhere in the States.

I know I should be ecstatic about it, but I'm not. All I feel is this deep sense of melancholy. We've been planning to leave NZ since before I even moved here, but now the plans are so permanent and I find myself asking "Why are we moving?". I know all the logical reasons why, I just can't seem to give a shit about them anymore. Who leaves a place that makes them happy for the unknown that could bring them misery? Apparently we do. What the fuck is up with that?

Okay, I'll admit it...I'm scared. Not just a little, I mean I am completely overwhelmed by this huge fear that is sitting squarely on my chest. I think it's having a lovely chat with the neurotic panic and paranoia currently circling 'round in my mind. The two of them are having quite the party with my sanity (what little I have).

I suppose the fact that I've been sick since New Year's with some "tummy bug" (as named by the urgent care doc I saw) that seems more like a tummy gila monster is not really helping the matter any. I haven't been able to take most of my medication so I'm feeling really grand at the moment if you catch my drift.

I have an ENTIRE FLAT FULL OF SHIT to sort, sell off, or pack and ship, but instead of doing that I'm sitting here with this "deer caught in the headlights" dazed look on my face, in between the bouts of hysterical tears.

I've been trying to find my happy place, but I think it's on vacation indefinitely. Probably sunning itself on the same tropical beach as my sanity. Bastards.

How do you grow?

There's a bougainvillea growing in my backyard. As spring has revived it the new growth has become so prolific that I can barely get our door open! Carefully weaving our way through the thorn-studded new branches has become something of an obstacle course. ;-P This is our third (and final) spring/summer in this flat and although it grows rapidly and gets pruned back several times a year, I've never seen it quite so determined to grow up the side of the house. It even sent shoots right up through the gutter and now part of our roof is in full bloom!

While contemplating how to tame the beast so the property owner doesn't send someone to rip it out of the yard (she's already threatened to once because she doesn't want to pay someone to prune it twice a year, plant hating bitch) I found my mind wandering back to a conversation I had with a good friend the other day. We were talking about growth and how the places we live and the friends we keep influence our progress (or lack thereof) to a point. Both of us have left behind family and more familiar places for experiences in a world far different from the one we first met in. While thinking of mutual friends still back in that area we wondered, did we change because we left? or did we leave because we needed the change and knew we wouldn't find it if we stayed there?

We've all heard the saying "You've gotta bloom where you're planted!" and for most of my life I have tried to take that sentiment to heart and grow even when I feel like I'm stuck in a place not nurturing me in the way I need. But I think perhaps that phrase is not always accurate. Granted, at times we do need to strive to bloom where we find ourselves, however I can think of instances when I needed more than just encouragement to keep my chin up--I needed to be transplanted to a whole new garden!

So how do we know when to bloom where we're planted versus hoping for a transplant? What about people we know who are stagnant in the environment they find themselves in? When do they (and we) realise you've "...gotta go where you can grow!" as my friend said?

The answer I think comes when we remember that each one of us is a different plant.

Some of us are like hybrid tea roses that need delicately balanced environments in order to flourish or else we suffer from stunted growth and rarely bloom, failing to reach our full potential because we never had the nourishment we needed to do so.

Others are potted plants that live comfortably within the confines of their pot, slowly growing as they go indoors and outdoors, according to the seasons and what suits them best. They may not have the most spectacular growth, but they keep at a steady pace and generally mind their own business, soaking up food and water as they're given and every once in a while they get an upgrade to a bigger pot!

Me? I'm the crazy bougainvillea climbing the side of our flat, bright fuchsia flowers spilling all over the place! Planted in a less than ideal spot I tend to send out feeler shoots that weave their way near and far, looking for solid support. Once I find some I grab on and end up places I'd never dreamed, drinking in sunlight to spur on my growth. At times I get cut back for whatever reason and feel discouraged, but once I've had time to regroup I start all over again (often times stubbornly doing the same thing as before *snort*). Not one to stay in one place, I seem to maintain quite a broad existence as I constantly seek out the things I need to continue to grow--even if it means taking on the roof!

So how do you grow?

Oh the things my mind wonders...

What makes some struggle with so much and still stick their chins out and keep going no matter how hard they get knocked down, while for others one small thing makes them fall to pieces and never try to get up again?

A blog post DinerGirl (you should read her blog, she has a way with words and her posts are shorter than mine!) wrote recently made that question (and others) spring up yet again in my mind. It's a question I mull over all the time and have talked about at length with many friends, we still don't have any firm conclusions. But I wonder do the things we go through have something to do with it?

I think of some of my close friends and wonder what the hell it is that keeps them going, no matter how many punches they take in this world.

P., who struggles with bipolar disorder (a diagnosis that took far too long and whom misdiagnoses and mistreatment almost killed), and yet is bravely fighting through those early twenties years, trying to conquer the things that do their best to knock her down. I see myself in her every time we talk. I remember how bad those years were for me and I'm trying desperately to be for her what I needed so much and no one would be for me. She'll make it through this period in her life and I can't even imagine the places she'll go.

J., who fights with anxiety and depression that try to choke the life out of her. A childhood that gave her many of the same issues I myself deal with, an ex who could have been the death of her, and two beautiful girls she's trying to raise in the midst of it all who she worries every day will grow up to struggle with the same things that haunt her. She juggles a million things everyday and yet bit by bit is getting closer to making a stable life for herself and her girls.

S., whose life experiences should be a best selling book. One minutes you'd be laughing and the next crying your heart out over the things she's been through. And yet, she is one of the most compassionate people I know. She'd give you the shirt off of her back and her shoes too if she thought you needed them. On top of the clinical depression she lives with every day, she has a teenage son who is going through his own psychological complexities that take more out of her than most people would be willing to go through for their children. Says a lot, doesn't it? She's tried to check out of this world several times but somehow never succeeded, and now stays in it so that she can be the advocate her son needs.

M., who I swear is my twin lost at birth. The two of us living in the same city would probably be more than any town could take. Quirkiness feeds off quirkiness and multiplies I think. It's okay though, we'd never get anywhere because we'd lose the car keys we're so absent-minded and distracted! She deals with much of the same health issues I do and time after time swears off dealing with useless doctors who are too busy chatting with drug reps to give us the time of day. And yet she tries again eventually, because she wants to not just make it through the day, but be well. She can make me laugh 'til my stomach aches. That's priceless.

And Chris. Chris....well, we're married and best friends, that should tell you everything.

And there are others... Every person I've mentioned above inspires some part of my life (including you DG) and I am thankful for them every day. They've come into my life in the oddest ways (most I met online!) and it seems to me that I collect them, these people that I can see elements of myself in, who resonate with something in me. And they keep on coming. I'm still surprised when it happens and yet I'm not, because I decided years ago to bring into my life people who help me be my true self instead of who they think I should be.

But what keeps them going? What makes them hit what seems like rock bottom repeatedly and they lay there for a minute, take a deep breath, and start hauling themselves up again? They have every right to stay down for the count and say they're done trying and yet they don't. And how do I know that? Because they are still living and breathing and creating beauty in their lives. They are still reaching their hands out to others who seem to be drowning and offering a semi-normal conversation, or a smile, or a soothing word. They help me breathe when the anxieties and obsessive thoughts that crowd my brain and restrict my life get the best of me. They give me the love, compassion, understanding, grace, and support that I can give everyone else but myself. I guess they give me what I try to give them.

Where does that come from, when others I know--who have been through far less--use the things they deal with to justify the hate they spread and the pain they inflict on others?

I still don't have any answers to those questions, but I think the ability to hope and to self analyse have something to do with it.

Stickers on laptops--why?

I'm selling my laptop to a friend (it's only about a year old) because we came across a great deal on a new one for a fraction of its original sale price and I needed an upgrade. Yay! While comparing the two I noticed I've been picking around the edges of the stickers on the older one. I don't remember doing it at all, in fact I've been trying really hard to leave them alone!

What is with the stickers anyway? Are they like adware-sticker style? Will computer manufacturers start auctioning off the "sticker spaces" to the highest bidder, you know, sort of like SUN auctioning for whose bull shit tool bars to include with their JAVA downloads? I get that some people think certain stickers (like ones indicating the processor or graphics card) give them visual bragging rights to the awesomeness of whatever is housed inside the plastic/metal shell, but I'm not big on the whole name brand thing and I'm not geeky enough to get a little tingly in my pants over the specs of a laptop! Do others not notice this, or do they just not care? Am I the only one who can't ignore the giant eyesores stuck below the keyboard?

Chris asked me why I don't just take them off and I don't have a good answer. There isn't any crucial info on them, it's only the ones with the warranty number and such on the underside of the computer that have to be left alone. So why do I not feel like I can just take the unimportant ones off? Hmmm...

I know, we can blame it on my childhood! *snort* I've been getting in trouble for peeling labels, stickers, band-aids, price tags, etc...since I was a little kid. When things are smooth and seem like they belong, I'm okay with leaving them be. But as soon as one little corner starts to lift up or the sticker looks like it doesn't belong there, I can't leave them alone until I've peeled them off! Unless of course I've been forbidden to do so, then I just THINK about peeling them off and try desperately to ignore them.

I guess since the stickers are on there all official looking I took it to mean I wasn't allowed to mess with them. But am I wrong? Can I really take them off? No one is going to give me hell for it like I got when I tore the tag off my pillow as a kid? Am I really asking this question? Why has it never occured to me that I could take the ugly things off!?!

To write or not to write...

that is the question of the week.

I've been thinking about NaNoWriMo as I've been encouraging others I know to give it a go. I personally didn't intend to do it since I'm not a fiction writer. When I feel the urge to write it's more from a reflective non-fiction place, know what I mean? And since the "No" part stands for "novel", which to me means fiction, I figured there was no way to participate in it.

BUT, while hunting through the NaNoWriMo site I found this area in their forum for "NaNo Rebels", i.e. those who are writing, but are in some way rebelling against the rules. Apparently the creator of NaNoWriMo didn't want them to feel totally left out this year, even though they are not "technically" meeting the requirements. So, some of them join to hang out in the forum and plan to write the 50,000 words, but not validate and get a badge at the end since they aren't following the rules.

And then I saw my Daily Om for yesterday, titled "Personal Tales: Writing Your Story" which made me do a double take because the only thing on my "to write" list is a memoir of sorts. Not really for anyone to read, just for me, because I feel like life is passing so fast that things I want to remember are fading from my memory and if I don't take the time to get them down soon, they'll be gone forever.

Do you think it's all a sign that I should join to participate and just not validate in the end? I mean, the real prize in the whole thing is the manuscript you have at the end and I don't feel the need to have a badge from it. So what say the few of you who read my blog??

What It's Like

I can't get over the "woman's life" air-quotes bull shit from last night's debate. To me, it was a glaring example of what I feel a lot of people in this world lack, UNDERSTANDING and COMPASSION.

For the last two weeks this song has been playing through my mind every day. Every day. I remember when it came out vividly because I was still a "pro-life, anti-abortion Christian". However, I was deeply struggling with the things that I'd been taught were "absolutely wrong", like homosexuality, sex before marriage, and abortion. I listened to the lyrics in this song and they really, really got to me. For an instant I was that girl, being ambushed by protesters while trying to get to the clinic, agonising over the choice I was left to make by the "man" who helped me get into this situation. Then I thought about a woman that was raped and how she would feel, pregnant with the child of her attacker. Or a young girl barely past puberty, her womb violated and impregnated by her father, uncle, the guy next door.

In putting on their shoes and walking for a minute, it all became so clear. What right to we have to judge that which most of us will never have to go through? What right do we have to take away their rights to their bodies? If it were me, would I want people to make that choice for me? NO.

And there you have it, the shift....that moment when the earth shifts beneath you and you know without a doubt that your perspective has been forever altered and you can't go back to the way you were before.

I sincerely wish people would take a moment to step outside their comfort zone and put on the shoes of another in a situation much different than the one they live in. Then maybe, just maybe they could imagine what it's like.

The VP Debate: Sure to be cringeworthy no matter who wins.

Political blogs and news sites have been abuzz this week with (among other things) their predictions for the upcoming VP debates. Considering Biden's knack for rambling on far longer than he should and at times sticking his foot in his mouth, paired with Palin's um...well...ah...habit of repeating the same lines over and over again mixed in with phrases that are utter nonsense, most people will be glued to their TV sets (or computer screens) to see how it all plays out.

The McCain campaign has been negotiating strict rules about how things will go in this debate, so if Biden strays from the format at all I'm sure we'll all be hearing spin on it for days. Which strikes me as funny considering it was painfully obvious McCain refused to stick to the format decided on for the last Presidential debate!

Personally the whole thing makes me nervous. On the one hand she could give the same performance she has in the few interviews she's done and we'll all cringe our way through the debates, hoping everyone else wakes up and realises McCain's first executive decision was a disaster. Or she could come out so well rehearsed that all she has to do is stick to her coached answers, not be caught off guard by something she doesn't have a canned answer to, maybe even throw in a few feisty digs at Biden and Obama to get brownie points, and it'll be seen as a "win" for nothing more than the fact she made it through without falling on her face. Isn't that a little scary? The average American has set their expectations so low that anything less than a monumental disaster will be a win. *shakes head*

So Joe, please, for the sake of all, make your answers short and to the point. I know it'll be hard, but the less you say, the better you'll look. Talk in calm tones, be respectful, and try to not look like you think Palin is clueless, but don't look like you're trying to go easy on her 'cause she's a woman. Believe me, I would love to see you talk circles around her and have a real honest to goodness debate with her, but let's face it, people are a little too squeamish for that and hate you for picking on the little woman. She'll trash talk at you in that saccharine manner and everyone will let it go without blinking an eye, but if you fight back you'll look like the big, bad man. I guess what I'm trying to say is, give her enough rope and hopefully she'll hang herself.

It's pretty bad when a woman who just months ago criticised Hillary Clinton for not bucking up enough and giving all women in politics a bad name, is getting a free pass by so many voters because they either want to be her, be her best friend, or fuck her. Talk about sexism.

Somebody find my blankie, I don't know if I can watch this...

Is there such a thing as blog fright?

"Do one thing every day that scares you." -Eleanor Roosevelt

That quote has been running through my mind for the past 20 minutes as I sit here staring at the empty text box on my screen. From the previous posts in this blog I'm sure anyone can tell I'm not the type that never has much to say, so the sudden loss of words has been a bit puzzling to say the least.

And then it hit me.

I have stage fright! Errr, or blog fright (if there is such a thing).

Usually I have no problem coming up with something to ramble about, but that's because not many people read my blog and most of the few that do I know personally, so having them read my writing is no big deal. But while trying to write this post it suddenly occurred to me that since I've decided to try the "post every day for a month" thing, once I'm added to the blogroll other people might stop by to have a read! Don't get me wrong, that's cool, I love to read other's blogs and have them respond to mine (I blog elsewhere on occasion with more readers), but somehow this is different.

I know it seems silly to have stage fright over such a thing, but since those kind of fears aren't rational to begin with, it is what it is. Standing on a stage about to give a speech is one of the only things that consistently leaves me speechless!

Surely it's just a passing thing, but 'til it goes I'll just have to do what they say to do when staring out at the mass of people before you:

Picture you all in your underwear. ;-P

Lessons learned the hard way

I took this picture standing in the brush that stretched along the beach. What do you suppose was running through my head? "Wow, what an amazing view, I'm so lucky to be here soaking in this moment!" Mmmm...nope. Try more like "Hmmm, wonder how far off sunset is. We told the manager at the motel we'd be checking in soon, I bet we're still 30 minutes out, we've got to get on the road. I think there's a beach in Westport someone was raving about on that discussion board, I should go catch a sunset photo from there, it might be even better than this one!"

So we hopped in the car and set off for Westport. Me sitting in the passenger seat, agitated that we weren't there already, wondering what the other beach would look like, hoping the proprietors of the motel wouldn't be annoyed if we were a few minutes off schedule. Chris quietly trying to drive down the country road without hitting any stray cows. Oh yeah, and that tiny voice in the back of my head that was throwing a fit because we left the beach and were headed away from the sunset. It wanted to stay there, set up the tripod, and patiently wait for the sun to drop even with the horizon so it could capture the perfect sunset shot. But I had plans damn it, a travel checklist to adhere to, and a rumored great beach to get to before the sun set!

When we saw the clouds moving in over the mountains start to glow pink I knew in the pit of my stomach I'd made the wrong decision. I could feel that "oh you stupid idiot!" panic start to set in as my eyes scanned the roadside looking for any clue as to how far we had to go to reach Westport. 5 kilometers later we passed a little town called Carters Beach and a side road that I could see might have led out to the beach, but I didn't want to ask Chris to stop the car and turn around and risk that I might have been wrong. Glancing in the rear view mirror was painful, the sun was setting faster than I thought it would, clouds aflame in hot pink, deep orange drifting across the sky, it was stunning, and I kicked myself again. 10 kilometers more and we were in Westport. But wait, where was the beach? Down the center of town Chris drove, no beach in sight. We paused long enough to get our bearings and then headed in the direction of the water, hoping we'd hit the beach in time.

We never did find the "spectacular beach" of Westport. The road ended at a lighthouse type building with writing on the road reminding people to not stop and park their cars there. But there were 6-7 cars lining the road, stopped to watch the sunset. I grabbed the camera and took a picture in hopes of catching the hot pink color in the clouds while my eyes welled up with tears. To top it all off, the car decided it didn't want to start again, and we spent several minutes practically holding our breath, begging it to start. All I could think of is calling AA sitting in our rental car, stopped in a "no stopping" area at the tip of a tiny roadway stuck out in the water! Thankfully, it started after we gave it a few minutes, apparently it doesn't like to start right after you shut it off, so we had several "Please start, oh please, please, please start!" moments before we turned the thing back in.

Why did I leave that other beach? I have over a dozen photographs even better than the one I posted above (like my new header for example!), the rocks, the water, the foliage, the way it faced the setting sun, it was PERFECT. And I hopped in the car and sped away from it. Why? Because I wasn't in the moment. I was consumed with all the other things going on in my head, the perceived expectations of others waiting on me, the vague promise of a better beach elsewhere. Why didn't I stop when my gut told me to? Why didn't I ask Chris to turn around and go back? It would have been so easy, I'd have gotten the shot! Why? Because I felt like I had made a decision and so I needed to follow it through and stick with it.

I have a secret. Deep down within me I am an incredibly random and spontaneous person! I delight over simple things like the smoothness of a rock deposited on the beach by the ocean, the salty crispiness of perfectly done shoestring fries, the way a loved one's eyes twinkle when they laugh, packing an overnight bag and renting a hotel room in a town 2 hours away spur of the moment, just to enjoy a different bed, no internet, and a night with nothing else to do but get lost in Chris' arms. But there is something that keeps that person inside me tied up, pushed down, and gasping for air. Sometimes she rarely gets to see the light of day. I catch glimpses of her from time to time but for the most part the other "me" rules. The practical me. The one that tries to juggle it all, that makes plans, lists, appointments. The one that obsesses over the most minute details, who paces when we don't leave the house on time, that panics if it looks like we might be late for an appointment. The one that struggles with panic attacks when things seem to be spinning out of her control, the one who is so caught up in the past and the future that she fails to cherish the present.

I don't know how to let the me imprisoned inside me out in the same way I don't know how to make the other me CHILL OUT. But I know I've got to figure it all out because days are passing me by that I'm not living because I'm too busy caught up in the struggle between the two. And I'm tired of learning painful lessons the hard way because she makes me drown out the real me, the one that goes with her intuition, the one that whispers to me the right thing even as I turn away from her.

I learned a painful lesson that sunset day. It's never too late to turn around! We cannot let our fears of admitting we are wrong rule our lives so much that we "stay the course" all the while knowing within us we shouldn't. So the next time I'm in that car headed the wrong way I hope I have the guts to stop the car and turn around. Sometimes we drive away in search of the very thing that was there in front of us, we're just too blind to see it.

I'm 26 for a moment...

Life is such an odd thing. The older I get the more I realise that time passes so fast and yet we still will it to go faster. When I was 9, my 10th birthday couldn't come fast enough because then I'd finally be allowed to get my ears pierced. Then I couldn't wait to be 13 because I'd be a "teen" then! I counted down the days until my 16th birthday, convinced that the closer I got to adulthood the better life would be, when that didn't materialise at 16 I figured by 18 I'd be all set for college and getting out of my parents house. At 18 that didn't happen as planned and I was ready to be 21 because I thought by then I'd have my path in life all sorted out!

On my 21st birthday I decided life was hell and I really wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, or at least fast forward through my life a good bit and come out once things sorted themselves out because surely at 23 things would be better! At 23 I forced myself to leave my parent's house to go visit family friends in Florida and stayed there for almost 6 months, trying desperately to get something moving in my life because I thought for sure I was doomed to be forever stuck there, then ended up actually going back there to live and thought I'd really fucked up then. I think 23 was one of the longest years of my life, but also the one I changed the most in, although 24 comes in a close second.

By my 25th birthday I was engaged, moved to a foreign country, and married! Talk about time moving fast! I thought my 25th year would find me in the US, starting college. You see, I have this anxiety over college. I didn't get to go when I was 18, and in hindsight that isn't such a bad thing because who I am now is quite far from who I was then, and at least I didn't take up 4 years getting a degree I'd never use. But it was okay, I figured I could still squeeze in a degree before I was 30, not too bad. Things never quite go to plan though, and now halfway through 26 I'm still in NZ, planning our next step in life. By the time I start school I'll be 27, so that degree won't come until I'm in my 30's and that does not make me very happy. I feel like suddenly life is rushing by at a breakneck speed and if I blink I'm going to miss the chance to do what I want to do. So I plan, fret, worry, obsess, plan some more, pace and I think I've about driven myself crazy. I feel like I'm constantly trying to play catch up with life.

Why do we do this? I know I'm not the only one to have this problem. When we're young we're in such a hurry to grow up that we spend our time pushing forward, trying not to think about how young we are, constantly fighting to be seen as older, wiser, more mature, anything to not be the kids we are. Then we find ourselves in our mid 20's and people are telling us we've got to get our career going, find a great person to "settle down" with, we get the grandkids question, and it seems as if everyone around us is pitching in to keep pushing us forward, always looking for the next thing, the next item on the checklist. Spouse? Check! 2.5 kids? Check! 9-5 office job? Check! Career path in place? Check! House and the debt that comes with it? Check! 2 cars? Check!

On and on we go, speeding through the list, becoming the people that society has convinced us we want to be until we hit our 40's and then all the sudden we dig our heels in and try to bring the ride to a screeching halt! How the fuck did we get close to half a century old? Where did our life go? We had dreams! Things we wanted to do, places we wanted to go, and now what of them? We have a house to pay off, kids in high school that we've gotta put through college, we barely recognise ourselves in the mirror, and that 9-5 job? We've always secretly hated it. Is it any wonder why so many people go through a "mid-life crisis" and try to scramble back and do all the things that they shoulda/coulda/wanted to do when they were in their 20's but they were too consumed with getting to the next goalpost to take the time to do it?

I've often wondered if the US is the only place that has the "mid-life crisis" problem, because your 20's often go a bit different in more British countries. Over here it's not uncommon to find people in their late 20's or early 30's in school still. Taking 6 months or a year off to travel after high school, after college, and even between jobs is not unusual either. My sister in law took 3-4 months off of work and toured parts of South America! She had the leave saved up, here you get 4 weeks leave per year, so that wasn't too hard to save up, and she's a year older than me, not married. Here Chris and I were considered a bit "young" getting married when we did, while in the US people figured I'd never get married since at 23 I had no prospects!

As much as I worry about spending the next 4, 6, 10 years in school pursuing some degree to get me closer to some career aspirations I have, more than anything else I fear being that person that has a mid-life crisis at 40 because I feel like I never gave myself permission to let go and LIVE while I didn't have the burden of a mortgage, kids to create a stable home life for, and a business to carry.

I am convinced that when we are 70 we look back and instead of thinking "I should have spent more time at work." we are instead wishing that we'd lived in the moment, taken more risks, spent more time with the people we loved instead of worrying about all the things that in the end don't matter so much. Several times I've had people in their 60's and 70's tell me to enjoy being young, take risks, live life to the fullest, and just go for things instead of obsessing over them because before I know it, the chance will have passed me by. But how? They never tell me HOW! Which brings me to my next blog topic---letting go.