There was a time when I believed that you could have anything you wanted if you just worked hard for it, that sticking with something, no matter how horrible, would eventually pay off. I used to believe in not quitting, no matter how bad it got. But maybe that isn't true.
I've wanted to work for Macy's my entire life. I wanted to grow, be with the company for good. I wanted to be a favorite amongst its forces, be involved in the better decisions. I wanted to stay.
I'm interviewing with someone else tomorrow, and I can't help but feel as if I am cheating on a long-time love, a relationship that was supposed to last. But maybe not everything is worth forever, not everyone is worth second chances. Maybe the stress and exhaustion I received from Macy's is no longer necessary. Maybe I'm just not meant to stay, maybe I don't have to. The realization that it isn't the absolute is perhaps the most freeing and liberating feeling I've every rationalized from this entire situation. I'm not saying I regret it, one can grow flowers from even the foulest of manure. But people and priorities change, and I can easily get this new job. I'm not sure where it will go, but who is? I guess we'll see what happens.
Maybe Kathy and I aren't so different, after all. She's just like me in a lot of ways, always looking for the most extensive thrill, the keenest sensations, the woman has been on more stunts than I can count. Maybe she wants out just as much as I do? Sometimes your picked on for reasons of envy. I refuse to be obsequious, I'm too old for that now. And, in reality, she really doesn't get much from bothering with me. This can turn out well, after all. I don't want to be angry at the world anymore, I don't want to feel alienated and alone; maybe this new job is all I need, all I ever needed? I guess we'll see tomorrow.
I'm scared and worried, but I know I shouldn't be. There's this underlying sense of calm in me I know I should cling to. I just have to look gorgeous, smile and remain calm. Maybe she had some hidden meaning of motivation in this scheme, who knows? I don't hate her now. I think her inferior, but she really can't help that.
I'm crossing my fingers that you'll keep up with me tomorrow, watching every move. I'm scared and anxious, and I need all the sanity in the world to keep me from completely flying off again. I can't ever let anyone take me there again. I'm going to hold my head up high, because, really, there is no reason it should be down. There never was. Those stupid girls in Marymount never got the best of me and nor will this woman. Nor will that dope Ron. Nor will all the specialists and their inflated egos and that pathetic Jessica. They have no idea the amount of time and effort it took to get me where I am today, and they wouldn't get it, even if we took all week to explain. They can't understand, how much a long line of very determined women loved me, so much that they're with me even now. Not divorce, public shame, embarrassment, or even illness kept us from it, and Kathy is no match. Not with her team, not with the company, not with that fat waste Sheila. I think it makes her angry and I'm sorry to see that. But she can;t take my shine away from me ever again, I'm not afraid of her.
So walk with me, tomorrow. I need the strength you gave to me, all of you. Through your stories, your lives. I'll never know your struggles, but instead your triumphs, and isn;t that the important part? Walk with me, and never let me go.
I love you all, for giving me who I am and always will be.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Alone Again, Naturally.
What's worse, is, I once felt. I was once moved, I once believed in beautiful things and people. I once wished for things, didn't simply float along the river of life expecting to be hit by something. (God knows what this is?) I'm exhausted an saddened all the time by my lack of feeling, lack of passion and drive, lack of color I once knew. I need a change a strong, all encompassing change that brings me to life. Something has to be done so that I can be myself again. My relationship is a joke, there is no passion, no fire anymore. I only feel safe and childish. My job I've been stupid enough to destroy, using murderous rage I feel at getting threatened with firing to obscure my reality. I'm on the nerve of an emotional and physical breakdown. Something has to be done, needs to move in a positive direction. I need to feel useful, feel like I have a purpose again.
Is this what age is? Is this how married life feels? Are we constantly faced with the problem of being satisfied just enough to stay but not to the point where we want to? I believed in something once, I was a person once, not just a channel through with Macy's extracts its shoe data and Baruch achieves mediocre student results. I only experience an occasional high, spending fortunes on clothes I imagine will take me places without the slightest idea how. Temporary highs, that's all this has become. Is this the reason some women get married, have children? Events and event and events, piling on, giving us something to do when we can strive no longer after this endless cycle of what feels like losing over, and over, and over again. I once imagined that once I made up with my family, I'd be ok. I have and feel emptier than ever. I think the last two years have been spent reliving a childhood I never felt I had, that the emptiness I felt at being a daughter left behind and unwanted was necessary to who I was. I have no idea how to live on now that I don't feel it.
When J. and I broke up, I thought it was the worst pain I'd ever felt. I now know I've become my mother, so obsessed with keeping my comforts that I never move beyond. I cannot remain stagnant. I feel trapped and saddened by my empty nothingness. Food no longer fills this void, something I'd never thought I'd say. There was a time when I was happier, when I wasn't so numb and scared all the time. I've drank gallons of coffee in the last months, gotten more comfortable with the idea that I really should break it off with J., accustomed to rebringing the fantasies of marrying a man I yearn for.
Tam wrote to me from England recently, and it was all I could do. I know he's still single, and every fiber of my being knows I really should see him. But how does one say that? Is it too late? I'm 25 now, he'd be 32. What would I do for work, for school? I feel so complacent with my unhappiness. I worked so hard for J., the little shit he really is, and I can't help but think there was a time when I loved myself enough to not do that. I need her back, my confident, wonderful self that was so beautiful she once flew in men she hadn't ever met. She sparkled, that woman, and it hurts that she was me, as I'm gray and lusterless now, getting older, getting fatter, no drive, barely will to live let alone live well. I've tried almost everything, but it isn't enough. I'm showing my unhappiness and am beginning to feel off balance and mad. Alone like a child in my room on weekend nights where there was a time I would be out dancing. Can I still dance? Can I still go out and be the women I am meant to be? Where is my will to live? When did this endless desire, this hurt and distrust of the world originate from? When did I come to believe that life is worth nothing more that piece of cake and some new outfits? I once felt. I once cried and knew why. I wasn't always happy, but I wasn't so bland. Something is not right here, and I need to fix it.
My cousin prayed to St. Anthony (in my emptiness, I've become a Catholic again, after years of not worrying about what God thought) to find her a job. I wear that bracelet every night, hoping to find myself, in a place other than in my writings from years ago. I want to feel worth something again, I want to feel like the goddess I once believed I was. My friends from then wouldn't recognize me anymore, even if we'd kept in touch. Is every year going to make this worse? Is everyday going to be filled of obligations I don't truly desire to fill? When did I get left out of my life?
Help me. A long time ago, when I believed in wishes, I wished with all my soul that I'd be found. I cannot tell you how much it still means to me.
Is this what age is? Is this how married life feels? Are we constantly faced with the problem of being satisfied just enough to stay but not to the point where we want to? I believed in something once, I was a person once, not just a channel through with Macy's extracts its shoe data and Baruch achieves mediocre student results. I only experience an occasional high, spending fortunes on clothes I imagine will take me places without the slightest idea how. Temporary highs, that's all this has become. Is this the reason some women get married, have children? Events and event and events, piling on, giving us something to do when we can strive no longer after this endless cycle of what feels like losing over, and over, and over again. I once imagined that once I made up with my family, I'd be ok. I have and feel emptier than ever. I think the last two years have been spent reliving a childhood I never felt I had, that the emptiness I felt at being a daughter left behind and unwanted was necessary to who I was. I have no idea how to live on now that I don't feel it.
When J. and I broke up, I thought it was the worst pain I'd ever felt. I now know I've become my mother, so obsessed with keeping my comforts that I never move beyond. I cannot remain stagnant. I feel trapped and saddened by my empty nothingness. Food no longer fills this void, something I'd never thought I'd say. There was a time when I was happier, when I wasn't so numb and scared all the time. I've drank gallons of coffee in the last months, gotten more comfortable with the idea that I really should break it off with J., accustomed to rebringing the fantasies of marrying a man I yearn for.
Tam wrote to me from England recently, and it was all I could do. I know he's still single, and every fiber of my being knows I really should see him. But how does one say that? Is it too late? I'm 25 now, he'd be 32. What would I do for work, for school? I feel so complacent with my unhappiness. I worked so hard for J., the little shit he really is, and I can't help but think there was a time when I loved myself enough to not do that. I need her back, my confident, wonderful self that was so beautiful she once flew in men she hadn't ever met. She sparkled, that woman, and it hurts that she was me, as I'm gray and lusterless now, getting older, getting fatter, no drive, barely will to live let alone live well. I've tried almost everything, but it isn't enough. I'm showing my unhappiness and am beginning to feel off balance and mad. Alone like a child in my room on weekend nights where there was a time I would be out dancing. Can I still dance? Can I still go out and be the women I am meant to be? Where is my will to live? When did this endless desire, this hurt and distrust of the world originate from? When did I come to believe that life is worth nothing more that piece of cake and some new outfits? I once felt. I once cried and knew why. I wasn't always happy, but I wasn't so bland. Something is not right here, and I need to fix it.
My cousin prayed to St. Anthony (in my emptiness, I've become a Catholic again, after years of not worrying about what God thought) to find her a job. I wear that bracelet every night, hoping to find myself, in a place other than in my writings from years ago. I want to feel worth something again, I want to feel like the goddess I once believed I was. My friends from then wouldn't recognize me anymore, even if we'd kept in touch. Is every year going to make this worse? Is everyday going to be filled of obligations I don't truly desire to fill? When did I get left out of my life?
Help me. A long time ago, when I believed in wishes, I wished with all my soul that I'd be found. I cannot tell you how much it still means to me.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Duckling to the Schwan.
WHAT is IT with ridiculously attractive men and marrying homely girls?!
And for Christ's sake, WHY. Seriously now, WHY can't I be one of those homely girls when it suits me?!
Nothing getting better at the job except my attitude. Perhaps this is all we need? A person can be happy if you choose to do so. Forget that barbarian Ron and his idiot Kathy.
Root beer (my new "coffee, understand, now that I've decided I function better on less caffeine.) for all.
And for Christ's sake, WHY. Seriously now, WHY can't I be one of those homely girls when it suits me?!
Nothing getting better at the job except my attitude. Perhaps this is all we need? A person can be happy if you choose to do so. Forget that barbarian Ron and his idiot Kathy.
Root beer (my new "coffee, understand, now that I've decided I function better on less caffeine.) for all.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
With Love, at 25
I'm writing this because I want you to know, really understand someday, that I loved you so much that it happened before you did.
I know you'll be beautiful, and I hope you will know that, too. I work hard everyday for you, I don't want us to be like I was with my own. I want you to have a strong sense of self, a purpose, and to stand up for what is right. I hope you're everything I'd try to instill in you, and better than I can. Understand, that, above everything, I tried my hardest.
Did you know she is afraid of roaches? That she lived in London? She had rendez-vous with men all over the world. She was free, she liked to eat only junk, she hates the gym, she worries about her weight, she loves to shop. She wanted to be President. She dated sons of oil tycoons, dairy product kings, and drunkards. She cried for you, once. I want you to know everything about her, so that you can remember it.
You are the reason I'm alive, and for that, I cannot thank you enough. Ever.
I know you'll be beautiful, and I hope you will know that, too. I work hard everyday for you, I don't want us to be like I was with my own. I want you to have a strong sense of self, a purpose, and to stand up for what is right. I hope you're everything I'd try to instill in you, and better than I can. Understand, that, above everything, I tried my hardest.
Did you know she is afraid of roaches? That she lived in London? She had rendez-vous with men all over the world. She was free, she liked to eat only junk, she hates the gym, she worries about her weight, she loves to shop. She wanted to be President. She dated sons of oil tycoons, dairy product kings, and drunkards. She cried for you, once. I want you to know everything about her, so that you can remember it.
You are the reason I'm alive, and for that, I cannot thank you enough. Ever.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Beginnings
I finally went to a meeting today. They apparently hold them online. People just like me, who can never get enough of a good thing. I felt tired of reading the screens, so I shut it off, but it felt wonderful to share, to tell the good, solid truth to a group of strangers when I feel so out of control.
I know that there is another life beyond all this, I'm just lost as curious as to how to find it. I'm not sure if it would just be a physical act, such as moving out or being entirely, utterly alone as I sometimes crave.
I came to the realization last night that my eating has never been about me, but about everyone around me. This endless need to please everyone and everything, even people that aren't there in the real sense of the word, the reverberations I can listen to so clearly all and every day, is what I've been working working for. All these faceless disappointed people, waiting, asking, demanding my pleasure be delayed for their own. When is it that we work our ways up to expectations? When is it that we stop hearing our own voices, crying out in our genuine nature? I blame Catholic nonsense, a bad mother, and a few absent decisions for myself but I know I'm not alone. Perhaps thats why meeting work so well, you're not alone. I was able to feel more inspiration when it wasn't my own, I was able to cry then, when it wasn't myself getting the help and support. Now I just feel nothing, empty, and undeserving. But maybe feeling nothing is better than feeling guilt, remorse, and pressure, as if I'm disappointing someone or something. Maybe for now, nothing is the reality. You can only develop from a starting point of nothing. You can only build up from empty ground, up and beyond. Beyond into something better.
I once accused my brother of having no opinion for himself. It is clear I have no real opinion myself, either, just a compilation of words and hearsay from here and there. The most daunting piece of this experience is really finding what I've been hiding behind so long, my real, true gratified self. For myself, not for the entertainment and pleasure of others. For me, only me.
In looking at wedding pictures and new babies to girls I knew in school, a hundred years ago and a different person I was, I recently admitted the sad truth to myself that I do not want these things yet. That was a strong step in the right direction, it had meaning, significance. It was freeing, I never needing these things.
And more to come. More to come.
I know that there is another life beyond all this, I'm just lost as curious as to how to find it. I'm not sure if it would just be a physical act, such as moving out or being entirely, utterly alone as I sometimes crave.
I came to the realization last night that my eating has never been about me, but about everyone around me. This endless need to please everyone and everything, even people that aren't there in the real sense of the word, the reverberations I can listen to so clearly all and every day, is what I've been working working for. All these faceless disappointed people, waiting, asking, demanding my pleasure be delayed for their own. When is it that we work our ways up to expectations? When is it that we stop hearing our own voices, crying out in our genuine nature? I blame Catholic nonsense, a bad mother, and a few absent decisions for myself but I know I'm not alone. Perhaps thats why meeting work so well, you're not alone. I was able to feel more inspiration when it wasn't my own, I was able to cry then, when it wasn't myself getting the help and support. Now I just feel nothing, empty, and undeserving. But maybe feeling nothing is better than feeling guilt, remorse, and pressure, as if I'm disappointing someone or something. Maybe for now, nothing is the reality. You can only develop from a starting point of nothing. You can only build up from empty ground, up and beyond. Beyond into something better.
I once accused my brother of having no opinion for himself. It is clear I have no real opinion myself, either, just a compilation of words and hearsay from here and there. The most daunting piece of this experience is really finding what I've been hiding behind so long, my real, true gratified self. For myself, not for the entertainment and pleasure of others. For me, only me.
In looking at wedding pictures and new babies to girls I knew in school, a hundred years ago and a different person I was, I recently admitted the sad truth to myself that I do not want these things yet. That was a strong step in the right direction, it had meaning, significance. It was freeing, I never needing these things.
And more to come. More to come.
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