Thinking...That Always Means Trouble

I'm kind of re-thinking this blog thing. It has been helpful for me to get my thoughts down on "paper", so to speak, but I wonder sometimes if I'm just sharing too much with the world. At first I thought that this was going to help people and if that was the case then mission accomplished. Now, however, I'm thinking that I'm just "putting my business out in the streets" and that it's really more than I feel comfortable sharing. Hell, I don't know. Maybe I just need a little break. Damn, if that's not the story of my life. But yeah, a little break is most definitely needed so I will continue to "Kari On"...just a little bit more quietly.

Happy New Year?

Yeah, it's been a while since I last wrote but since no one is really paying attention, I'm not too concerned about it. Since I wrote last, unemployment benefits were extended (thank God) and we know where we'll be until around April. Brian is still busting his ass to find a job (without luck, so far) and I'm still trying to get my head out of my ass to figure out what my next step should be. I have a completed job application for a retail job sitting on my desk. I could have turned it in two weeks ago when I filled it out but I'm not ready to do that yet. Let me make this clear, there is nothing, NOTHING wrong with working in retail if that is your heart's desire but it's really not mine. I've been there, done that, have the t-shirt (several, in fact) and I really want something different out of my life. I want the fairy tale, as most of us do, but in lieu of that, I'd like to find a satisfying and fulfilling place in this world. I've got to stop living in the past. I've made so many mistakes, have so many regrets. (By the way, those people who say "I have no regrets" are full of shit.) If I could turn back the clock, I would do SO many things differently; I'd make so many different choices. Yes, everything I've done has lead me to this point and all that happy horseshit (thanks, Aunt Sue, for that expression, by the way) but seriously, if this is where I am meant to be, I'd have found my way here, one way or another, regardless of making different choices five, ten, twenty years ago, or five minutes ago, for that matter. The main regrets at this point are firstly, that I made the choices I did regarding my education. Yes, I have a BA in English, which would probably serve me well if I had wanted to pursue a career in teaching. I suppose it has, perhaps, made me a better writer and reader, perhaps not. I'm quite sure I would have loved reading and writing regardless, as I have since I was old enough to do each of those things. I've had an interest in true crime books/movies/television for a very long time. I find those forensics shows on TruTV or whatever endlessly fascinating. I am also quite meticulous in many ways. This leads me to wonder if I missed my calling as a fingerprint analyst or some such related job. I am also an exceedingly good listener. I genuinely care about people (despite the fact that they fail me on a constant basis) and I truly think I have a loving heart and enough intelligence to offer really good advice (though I am far less adept at following it). Maybe I'm supposed to be a counselor or therapist of some sort. The big thing, the elephant in the room, is that I just don't know. Furthermore, even if I did, I feel like, at 37, my ship has sailed. Brian is so wonderful, so diametrically different from me. He feels like as long as I have breath in my lungs, it's not too late to be or do whatever I wish. The same holds true for my baby fears. My other biggest regret is waiting so long to try to be a mother. Though it's not something we've been actively pursuing lately (wondering how to get the bills paid is not exactly conducive to setting "the mood"), it's on my mind all the time. I'd hate to think that my procrastination, my desire to wait for the "perfect" time, when things would be more "stable", has cost me my chance to be a mother. Yes, the celebs have babies in their late thirties and even their forties, all the time. "Regular" women do too. But honestly, the hot prospect of scheduling an appointment with a gyno to make sure my parts are in working order, waiting months for said appointment (because that's what you do when you're broke) and finding the cash to pay the bill doesn't overjoy me (quelle surprise). Not to mention the fact that if this is my fault somehow, I really don't want to know. I want to believe that when we calm down a little, when things become a little bit more relaxed and spontaneous (albeit somewhat regularly scheduled), things will be okay. Because honestly, I do believe that I deserve good things. I am a good person, damn it, worthy of love and being loved and worthy of having good things happen. I truly believe that...at the moment, anyway.

Lost

I can honestly say, without reservation, that I am deeply ashamed of the American government. Despite my husband's relentless search for employment for this past year, despite doing everything we were told, our unemployment benefits will end on December 14. We learned this not through the government or bureaucracy but by doing our own research and then getting "confirmation" from the unemployment office.  We were "supposed" to be entitled to 99 weeks of emergency unemployment, broken up into four tiers (yes, this is about to get as confusing as filing your income taxes.) If we exhausted our current tier (which is only tier 2, by the way) prior to November 27, we'd be automatically enrolled in tier 3. But because our current tier is exhausted after November 27, we get to finish our current tier (which expires on December 14) and then we get NOTHING. So yes, people who applied for unemployment PRIOR to my husband are entitled to months and months more benefits if their cut off date was timed correctly and folks like us who, theoretically, should have received about 40 more weeks of coverage, are finished. I am completely spent, emotionally. So we are now preparing to pack our belongings, leave our home of the past 6 years and move back to my mom's in NY through NO choice of our own. We can't really afford to do this, what's left of my pathetic savings will be exhausted on moving expenses and we will, once again, be burdens on my mother. I am stripped of any pride or dignity I possessed. I am completely broken and so ashamed that this is the country I live in - one that is more than willing to try to be the "heroes" to the rest of the world (which isn't impressed, from what I've heard, nor should it be), is more than willing to bail multi-million dollar corporations out of their financial crises but has a complete and utter disregard for its middle class, the heart of this country, the ones who have always been willing to do their fair share, if not more, only asking for the opportunity to do so. I am still a bit of a deer in the headlights as these developments have literally only come to light in the past few moments. I am beaten and broken. I am, more than I have ever been in my entire life, utterly lost.

Best Laid Plans?

So yeah, I had every intention of writing this blog on a semi-regular basis and I am not unaware of the glaring gap between my previous two entries. I would love to say that the reason I haven't been keeping up with it is because my life is so full of excitement and adventures and wonderful distractions. But of course, as you'll know if you've ever met me (and even if you haven't), that is, most definitely, not the case. I've never really been one to experience excitement and adventures. Though they sound wonderful in theory, I generally don't even miss their absence in my life. I appreciate the comfort and stability of regular everyday life. But for the past year plus, that's become increasingly difficult. I am a mess, I know this. I am 37, able-bodied, reasonably intelligent and, for lack of a better word, a complete slacker. For the past several years, there really hasn't been a good reason for me not to have a job or be out in the world doing "something", other than pure laziness. That's not entirely true, I suppose. My depression has made the simple act of getting out of bed quite the challenge at times. Still, I have been taking the easy way out for too long. Avoiding responsibility has been an ongoing theme throughout my entire life. I've let pretty much everyone around me make most of the major decisions in my life and, through years of self-analysis and the observations of others, come to realize that this is, at least in part, due to the fact that if the "wrong" decisions got made, I could blame others. This was never something I did consciously but it is still, nevertheless, true. I've always lived in fear - fear of failure, disappointment, what have you. I need to STOP doing this. But, of course, now I'm 37 years old, with NO idea of what I want to do with my life, career-wise. Even if I did, I'd have chosen a helluva time to figure this all out. Unemployment is at an astronomically high level in this country. Furthering my education, should that be my choice, is financially unfeasible. As usual, my timing sucks to high heavens. I'm just so mad at myself. I should never have let myself get into this position. However, I've wasted entirely too many years already on "would of, could of, should ofs". I need to stop making excuses and start figuring some shit out. I need to be sleeping at 1:28 am for a change. I need to shut up now.

Over It

Yeah, this might sound like a huge bold statement but honestly, in this instance, not so much. Basically the "it" which I am "over" is writing all in lower-case letters. It was a phase for several years because, quite simply, I liked how it looked. However, it made me lazy and God knows I'm certainly lazy enough in 109 other aspects of my life already. So yeah, writing all in lower-case, over it. ;)

and baby makes three?

eh, not so much. i had kind of thought so. oh, who am i kidding, more than kind of. however, as per usual, i was sorely disappointed. let me explain. i had a very strong feeling that i became pregnant not long after my birthday. we're about to get into borderline "tmi" territory now (aw hell, a few toes may even wander across the border) so you might want to look away. my frenemy (because really, what MAN decided to call a woman's menstrual cycle a "friend" anyway?) has been quite regular since the age of 18. when it first arrived (age 12, perhaps. i recall the experience vividly but alas, the exact timing of said arrival escapes me. but i digress.) and for the subsequent 6ish years it was very irregular. it just showed up at the damndest times. so, at age 18 (before i became sexually active but again, that is another story for another day, perhaps) i was urged by my very first gynecologist (oh goody) to take birth control to regulate my period. (there, i said it.) so, ever since, i've been pretty damn regular. so, when my frenemy did not arrive as scheduled in early june i thought, "wow! could it actually be this easy?" when it still didn't arrive a week later or the week after that i "knew" - i was with child. i started focusing more than ever on baby names (something i've thought about pretty much all my life) and when i told the hubby that i was late he started believing it too. as june rolled into july (as it is wont to do) i made a plan. i would wait until july 4th to take what would be my very first pregnancy test (never did really understand the "pass/fail" thing until that very moment). i thought that independence day would be a lovely time to confirm what i was already quite sure of and eagerly awaited what would certainly be a momentous event. so the first came and the second and...WHAM...like that proverbial mack truck, it hit me. my frenemy had arrived, late but most definitely there. i cannot really explain how it made me feel. i can't quite equate it to mourning as one can't really mourn what one never had, can one? however, it was quite devastating nonetheless. i've said it before and i'll say it again, nothing comes easily to me. why i thought this, one of the biggest potential "comings" of my life would be any different, i do not know. my uncharacteristic faith and optimism was so refreshing. i am going to try, REALLY try, to capture that elusive creature once more. however i am now back to my usual state of cautious pessimism. a dear friend told me a story which i will now share with you. (she is a reader of this blog so i hope she doesn't mind me repeating it.) she has told her son all his life that babies start out high above us, each on his or her own little angel cloud, looking down and searching for the perfect parents. when the baby finds the right ones, down he or she comes and the lucky parents find themselves with child. i am not re-telling this as magically as she told it to me but hopefully you get the idea. now this friend is not religious (nor am i but again, another story for another day) but the innocence and beauty of this story has brought great comfort to her son for many years and to her as well and now, to me. i like imagining my son or daughter floating on an angel cloud, glancing down to the earth below, examining every man and woman with a discerning eye, seeking the ones that are meant for him or her. eventually that baby will find us and float on down into our lives. i want SO much to believe it. so yeah, that's where things stand as of today. pessimism is like a warm blanket for me - it just feels so damned comfortable - but i must admit, the payoff for risking optimism could be quite fantastic. i suppose i will just have to reach out for it again sometime. maybe even today.

goodbye, rue

one of my favorite memories of time with my father was when we would watch the golden girls together. my mom would just watch in amazement as the two of us would consistently laugh out loud at the antics of blanche and her cohorts. when my father passed away, at only 53, i was wrecked. even now, 10 years later, there is still a hole in my heart. i think that is why each time one of the fabulous golden girls passes away i feel an especially strong sense of grief. it brings up memories of my daddy all over again. but the remarkable thing is, i cry, i grieve, and then, in time, i return to the golden girls and suddenly i am transported back in time. once again, i can laugh until i cry and remember why my father and i fell in love with all of them in the first place. so, i will take comfort in knowing that sweet rue is in a better place with my father and that three golden girls are making my daddy laugh all over again. goodbye, rue. sleep with the angels.