Sometimes I underestimate the value of a good support network

I'm reminded tonight who the important people in my life are, and am glad they are there. The good kind of support always does that to you.

The good kind of support listens, and doesn't judge. The good kind of support doesn't give unsolicited advice, unless you ask for an opinion. The good kind of support doesn't tell you what you "should be" doing at this point in your life and make you feel inferior when you aren't there. I do enough of that without anyone's help, thank you very much.

The good kind of support feels safe.

I had forgotten for a while what safe feels like when talking to people. I had forgotten until today. Until I talked to the one person that always felt safe.

At one point in our conversation, she reminded me that "I was always compliant."

Well that's the under statement of the year. And then I was reminded how compliance is evil. Compliance has always been the way I do things, to avoid conflict. It worked until it didn't. I generally worked in school. Being invisible is how I roll. But invisibility and compliance don't work in life.

I was reminded that in a gentle way today. I have been told that by others, but I don't think it sunk in until now.

I don't think I have a point with this post, and it will certainly take much more reflection to get at what can even be considered a point, but sometimes it just takes the right person. To listen. Absorb. And quietly suggest. How can someone know you better than you know yourself? A little scary, but I'm willing to give this a shot...

Another week drawn to a close

And it brings with it a lot of learning and overall newness and probably some transition. I am not done, as I do even more at the house this weekend. I really do enjoy learning about it so far and it will be interesting in practice. Someone told me that it's all about documentation, and man, that person wasn't kidding. You know who you are. I will be a documentation wizard by the end of this month. I also realized how many people's communication and documentation skills need work, as we had to actually practice writing incident reports today, and then swap them with our training neighbor and have them tell us what to better. Man, people just can't write. My supervisor said she was very pleased with mine and said she'd have no problems if all of my reports came in like that. LOL. I was a teacher (and almost English and Journalism major) here, remember? I guess I'm just worried about practical application now. I know I can do it, but in the real world, there just isn't a whole lot of time to sit down and think about what happened and write a detailed report, but it's all about making the time. I think I will get better at it as time goes on, and I look forward to the weekend and coming month's challenges! I also look forward to getting to know the ladies in the house, as they are known to have quite the "personality" and "a better social life than most of the staff." LOL.

Codependency, anyone?

(Warning: Rant Ahead)

I was watching Glee on Hulu (my favorite thing to do on a Saturday night) when I came across this song:



Don't get me wrong, I like Kelly Clarkson as much as the next person. OK, that was a lie. Actually, I don't like her at all. That's beside the point. Actually, I hate her even a little more after listening to this song. A line in the song actually states

"I know I have issues but you are pretty messed up too."

Um, if anyone actually said this to me, I'm pretty sure that would be the end of things. Ka-put. Deal breaker to end all deal breakers. Another winner lyric?

"Being with you is so dysfunctional/I really shouldn't miss you but I can't let you go."

WTF? I don't care if we belong together, if the only reason you can come up with is "well, I can't do any better than you, so I'm here because I'm lonely and desperate" then I DON'T need any of it. And neither do you. Go find something better and let me do the same. Thank you. What kind of message are we sending to girls everywhere? Kelly, I know you can do better. I may not be able to write the killer girl power song, but you've won American Idol, so you are golden. Go write something that shows that you are the strong, intelligent female I thought you were (or that I just want you to be.)

This is me, trying to write creatively about a year and a half ago at a writing group

2/2/08

Your first kiss?

Your last kiss?

It’s quantifiable.

How long should it last? There’s a number that both should be.

Cheryl stood upon the four-poster bed and definitively spoke up holding a bright red lipstick in one hand and a Gumby doll on the other, clearly taking on the instructor role.

“How long should it last?” asked Marilyn, a devoted follower.
“We’re paying good money to this so we better get quality advice.” Said another cynic.

“How do I get someone who hasn’t noticed me all year to suddenly show interest?”

Yeah, it’s tenth grade. There are chess club dorks who had 2 first kisses already. Marilyn stared at the sign that read “Kissing Workshop: how to make it happen for you this year” with the $10 price printed in lipstick and scoffed.

Why did she ever think this was a good idea? She had let Sarah drag her here, but in no way did she have any interest in the course description on the on the Myspace.com profile for Cheryl Green. Yeah, she guessed the info might come in handy if there happened to be an eligible or even tolerable dude to walk in to the doors of the school, but first kiss/last kiss? She should be more focused on algebra and solving for x.

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If you had told me this was going to happen a week ago, I never would have believed you. So it was Friday morning, before 7am, and I’m driving my usual route to work and not two blocks away from my doorstep do I hear and see a SPLAT of white right in the center of my wind shield. Seriously? This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when the wiper fluid in my car is either frozen or empty. Not when I have to make it through six hours with a half-fake smile plastered on my face for the good of the workplace.

And OHMYGOODNESS! How much bigger could this SPLAT be? Did the poor bird have intestinal issues? Why did it have to choose my windshield as a dumping ground? Was this supposed to be a metaphor for my day/week/month/life? Indicative of other metaphorical shit no doubt, what else would be dumped on me that Friday? Don’t the heavens know that my Thursday was already bad enough? This should have happened on a Thursday afternoon. Not on a FRIDAY morning! Don’t these powers realize that they shant do ANYTHING without consulting me FIRST? So yes, if I’d had known a week ago that I’d end the week with a huge bird waste splatter in the center of my windshield, I wouldn’t have believed you, but at least I would have been prepared enough to have a rag in my car to wipe it off there.

Now it sits on the center of my windshield, almost mocking me and my life decisions. Almost mocking me and where I chose to concentrate my efforts. It sits, and I sit, in need of a rag and a way to control the universe. In need of a way to seek revenge on the bird that left a palm-sized splatter on the center of my windshield. In need of control, more control, and more, and a healthy way of letting it all go at the end of a day/week/month. If you told me I’d end up in Minnesota a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I would have stared at you seriously and have asked A LOT more questions. If you told me I would have ended up coming here alone, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I probably would have asked you to come with me. If nothing more than to make the car ride more interesting.