I Want To Heart Life

When I was about 12 or 13 my dad got colon cancer.  I didn’t really understand much of what was going on then.  You see, my mom never told me much of anything about what was going on with the family.  That’s just how she was and that was just how our family dynamic was.  I was the youngest and because of that fact it seemed that I didn’t need to be concerned or burdened with these things, along with her notion that I was just a kid.  She never seemed to respect me the way that she respects my older sister.  More on this in a bit.

All I remember at the time was that my dad was having surgery for something.  I knew cancer was a big deal, but I guess it never really registered that it was a serious thing.  I don’t remember anyone ever telling me that dad had cancer.  I just remember bits and pieces at the time.  Something about my dad being tired a lot.  Something about him finding blood in his stool.  Something about a doctor’s appointment, and then the next thing I remember was waiting in the hospital while he went through surgery.  Something about the doctor removing a section of the colon. 

He came out of surgery fine.  It turned out that whatever growth or whatever section of the colon the doctors had taken out, the surgery had taken care of it.  He was fine and life went back to normal. 

That’s just how my family was.  We never talked about anything of importance and if things were discussed, my family certainly didn’t include me in on the conversations.  I resent how my mom never talked to me like I was a person whose life was affected by decisions she’d make or how she never really took the time to seek my input on these things.  I wish we would have had family meetings or dinners around the table.  There was none of that while I was growing up and I never felt like anything I had to say mattered to her. 

My mom always had this dependency on my oldest sister.  A lot of that was due to the fact that my mom relied a lot on my sister to help her navigate through the basics of life, like bill paying or other day to day transactions that most people would handle on their own.  My mom speaks in broken english, although her comprehension is good, and I remember my sister telling me stories of being 7 or 8, and having to translate and take care of some sort of transaction for my mom.  My sister would tell me times when she’d have to read mail or other letters that my parents received and then having to translate the information for my mom. 

My dad speaks perfect english, having been about 10 when he came to the US.  My mom came to the US when she was ~21, and for some reason just didn’t progress past a certain level with it.  While my dad spent most days at our store, my mom would alternate her time between helping him there and doing general mom duties, like shuttling us to piano lessons or other school activities.  I just always remember my older sister in some capacity as taking care of things or being the one to go to about stuff.

My mom would always go to my older sister for advice on how to handle things.  I don’t remember my mom ever asking my opinion on things.  I don’t remember her asking me much of anything now that I think about it.  She never asked how school was.  She never asked how my day was.  She never asked what I wanted to do for my birthday.  Nothing.  She never asked me anything about myself at all.  In fact, I bet that if someone asked her to tell them something about me, the most she’d be able to say is that I live in SF and my favorite color is blue.  She didn’t even ask much about the new job I took last November.  She doesn’t know how stressful that decision was for me because it was a big career change at the time.  She doesn’t even know what kind of work I do.  She hasn’t even asked me how things are since I started that job.

My older sister has always been my “real” mom.  I remember her finding ways to entertain me in the ways that a mom usually does.  She’d sit down and draw and color with me.  She’d make up games for us to play.  She’d help me with my homework, or she’d be there for me when I was feeling rejected when my other sister wouldn’t want to play me.  I know now that it’s never about what you can give or do for your kids.  It’s all about the time that you spend with them.  I never had that with either of my parents.  I can barely count the number of times that I clearly remember just enjoying time spent with one or both of my parents outside of the holidays.  I never had much one-on-one time with them at all while I was growing up.

I’ve been so sad lately when I think about the relationship that I’ll never have with my parents.  I want to run to mom and dad now more than I ever have in my life and it tears me up knowing that I can’t.  I want to know that whatever I decide to do with my life that they will there with me, whether it’s to rejoice with me or whether it’s to help pick up the pieces should I fail.  I’m so fearful of living that I don’t know what to do.  All I feel right now is the desire to run to mom and dad and to feel and know their love for me, but each time my thoughts and emotions go there, I hurt more.  I realize now that a parent’s ability to instill love in their child is the best gift they could ever give. 

I’m tired of crying.  I’m tired of feeling so displaced.  I’m tired of wanting love and not being able to find it.  I’m tired of taking care of myself.  I’m tired of life and all of its monotony.  I’m tired of trying new things and still not having found my passion yet.  I’m tired of pretending that everything’s ok.  I’m tired of praying and wondering if God is really listening.  I’m tired of doing things God’s way.  I’m tired of optimistic people.  I’m tired of being uninspired.  I’m tired of being tired.  I’m just tired of life.

What is going on with me?  Why am I so depressed and negative?  I’ve got so much to be thankful for and yet I don’t feel any gratitude. 

I want to heart life and I can’t right now.    Please tell me it will get better.  Please?  Please??

Funny Quote

“When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized that the Lord doesn’t work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me.”  — Emo Philips

We Are SO Over

I’m done with my latest relationship.  I’ve been dating this guy since last November.  When I met him I knew the relationship didn’t really have much potential to last, but I was ok with the time we spent together.   He was fun and we ‘clicked’ in one of those ‘elusive’ ways (no, I am not talking about sexual chemistry).  It’s just been a long time since I was able to talk, laugh, and just enjoy things with someone that didn’t feel somewhat contrived or date-ish.  I was probably more ok with things because we didn’t actually live in the same city, so there was never an expectation of consistent time spent together. Plus, he’s been divorced and, quite honestly, that’s actually a dealbreaker for me when it comes to the ‘must-haves’ for my future spouse.

As with most relationships, inevitably one of the two parties (usually the woman, and yes, me in this case) wants more out of it or just realizes it’s run its course wants to end things sooner than later instead of dragging it out.  I knew in February that spending the time with him was really just reminding me that I really hadn’t found what I was looking for yet.  We talked in vague conversations about where we were in life and about the things we wanted, and while we never had a direct talk about it, the conversations we did have confirmed that our visions and wants were very different.

Then in May I tried to have a serious conversation with him about our relationship, which didn’t go very well.  I yelled and bullied in an attempt to get him to talk, and I know that was wrong.  He clammed up and told me he’s always had trouble opening up.  Blah blah.  I’ve heard that before and it basicallly means that he’s got no interest in addressing my concerns.

Somewhere among the drama of my real estate transaction in late May to present, I realized that this guy does not have the characteristics to mesh well with me when I am stressed.  I’ve been obsessed with mortgages and all things real estate for the last couple of months, and he’s not been a source of comfort or a reprieve from all of this headache.  

At the end of the day I would be so exhausted and frustrated after spending a lot of my time dealing with open houses or other real estate stuff that all I wanted was to go home and relax at the end of the day.  It made me really want someone to go home to at the end of the day and it made me want so desperately for someone who just ‘gets’ me, where I could be taken care of and where I could just let my hair down and feel like I’d be ok  with them in my corner.  I wanted to know that I could have a bad day and that they would still love me anyway. 

I never felt that with this guy.  Each time I’d try to open up or share more, I didn’t feel it was safe to do so, nor did I feel like he was receptive to seeing that side of me. 

There’s a lot more that was frustrating about this relationship, but I’ve made up in my mind to let it go.  It’s going nowhere, so what’s the point of putting more energy into and getting more attached, you know?

It sucks, it really does.  It’s hard to find someone who reciprocates a certain amount of chemistry, a certain amount of like-mindedness, and a certain style of being.  But I am letting it go and moving on.

Real Estate Transactions Suck

I’m pissed.  Man, am I pissed.

One of the reasons I was absent from blogging is because things have been good.  I wish I could be one of those bloggers where all you read about is good stuff, but my blog ends up being a place to dump, probably because I don’t like burdening the “real” people in my life with this stuff. 

First of all, I was very close to purchasing my first home.  It was this lovely condo that I fell in love with on my first visit, but then two things happened:  gov’t and city downpayment assistance ran out of money and interest rates went up.  This means the ”free” money I was hoping for to help reduce the amount borrowed didn’t happen, which was a bummer but it was not the end of the world.  I could still afford the house.  But then interest rates went back up and that caused the monthly payments to rise, which then reduced my purchasing power.  So the two of these combined ended my ability to purchase this place.  I really love that place and just couldn’t see myself living anywhere else.

This fact alone is not the biggest part to bum me out.  What’s really pissing me off right now about it all is the shady dealings of the builder’s sales agent.  She is clearly not letting me out of my purchase contract, despite having not secured my loan during the contingency period.  In fact, I am now about two weeks beyond that and she is threatening to keep my holding fee.  However, she actually did not send in my check to the escrow company until about the last week of my loan contingency period, and NOT during the 3-5 days after signing into contract.

Anyway, there’s too much about this situation that is pissing me off.  She shadily brought in a broker “to help with my closing costs”.  When, since I had viewed the first time without my agent, she would not allow me to use my real estate agent.  My agent actually said say that she did technically have the right to decline working with my agent since there IS some sort of unspoken rule amongst agents that you need to be present on the first visit with your own agent (or else I need to mention I am working with one, which I didn’t mention at all, in fact, I didn’t really have an agent at that point).  Anyway, so she shadily brought in this broker (who was clearly her friend) and basically used her to do exactly what my own agent would have, so now her friend is getting the commission (and probably her as well since I now see how shady she is) and not my own agent.  Ok, it’s my own fault for not really thinking this through initally, but I am a first-time buyer and I signed agreement to all this stuff.

Oh, and I must add, initially I found out that she is a friend of my cousin’s.  It’s a long story.  But it also turned out that she goes to a sister church and knows some of the same friends.  So I guess I gave her some “grace”, so to speak with my trust because of these two facts.  I am SO not happy with myself right now.  I really trust my cousin and I really trust those common friends.  So I just naturally trusted her too.  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.  Argh.

Anyway, so after our last conversation I repeated (again) that I wanted out, but she leaves this message the other day clearly talking as if she’s still moving forward with the deal.  Now she’s claiming that I have not been returning her calls, which is complete BS.  I told her twice, VERY CLEARLY, that I am now out of contract and no longer wish to purchase the property.   I didn’t tell her this part, but since she was delayed in sending my check to the escrow company, I’ve put a stop payment on my check.

Anyway, now I’m partly freaked out because I’m wondering what kind of legal mess might arise out of this, and I’m partly freaked out because the whole real estate process is so messed up.  It’s no wonder so many people get taken advantage of.  There are sooo many financial, legal, and other aspects involved with the process that you really have to do your diligence to protect yourself.  I am very good about being an educated consumer so I am upset with myself for somehow getting into this mess.  Argh.

I’m pissed.  Just really pissed.  I’m pissed because I had hoped to be posting pics of my new home and tell you all about the exciting news.  But nooo…thanks to shady agents out there, my current experience has been less than joyous. 

If any of you have some real estate advice, please offer it.  I will probably talk to a lawyer just to make sure what my rights are and to prepare myself in case things get ugly.  This whole thing is really weighing on me right now and I am stressed beyond belief.  I just want out and I am not longer going to play nice.

Thanks for listening.

Cool Stuff

I came across this on EB’s blog.  Click here to view.

You really have to check out the future of our technology.  It’s waaaay cool.

My Scar

I have this scar on my leg.  It’s on my thigh and is about 4 inches long and about 1/4 inch wide.  It represents all things ugly in my life and I wear it on my leg much like Hester Prynne wore her scarlett ’A’ on her bosom.

There is so much shame, resentment, and anger I feel about my childhood, and I hate everything about it.  Well, not everything, but almost everything.  The bad memories certainly outweigh the good ones, and  I find myself finally taking the time to acknowledge those negative feelings.  I never thought it was ok to hate my family as much as I do, and more specifically, to hate my mother as much as I do, but I do.  I’m not going to lie about it anymore, nor am I going to sugarcoat it or justify my feelings towards her and certain members of my family. 

I don’t like anything about her, and yet, without her I would not be here.  But is ‘here’ really anything to be grateful for?  I find it so hard to feel joy and gratitude, and I never understood or acknowledged the truth to this fact until now.  My mother never let me have those things as a child.  I grew up so fast and learned at an early age to harden my heart to all the things around me that I cared about it.  Perhaps I cared too much, but whatever the case, I was flippant with many of the people and the things in my life and I still have the tendency and ability to just coldly cut something out of my life without a second thought. 

My “real” childhood is not something I share easily or as frankly as I would like to.  It was full of verbal and physical abuse, but I didn’t realize that then like I do now.  I grew up in the midst of it, so when that is all you know as a child, you don’t really question it.  It was just how life was. 

My mom really had (has) a temper and whether or not you were the cause of it, she’d take it out on the people around her.  I don’t even remember the things that would set her off, but I do remember that it never took very much.  I just know that most of my childhood memories consisted of her yelling at us about one thing or another.  She’d tell us what bad children we were, or how everything we did was never right.  When she told us how bad we were, it was partly anger at our behaviors, but mostly it was character assassination.  I learned at a very young age what a worthless kid I was and how I just never seemed to do anything right.  Everything I did was never good enough, so why even bother trying?

My mom’s temper not only resulted in verbal outlashes, but she would be physically abusive towards us too.  Sometimes kids are just kids and you get a bit rowdy, but that doesn’t give someone the right to hit you into compliance.  She’d slap us to get us to be quiet.  She’d hit us using whatever was around – a hair brush, a cardboard stick (from hangers you get from the dry cleaner), a fly swatter.  She’d drag us kicking and screaming by the arm or the hair.  I seriously know now that she could have been thrown in jail for the kinds of things she did to punish us.

I have all these bad memories that I can’t believe she did.  When I was sick she’d force me to take aspirin.  I used to throw up when I ate it, but I never threw up on my purpose.  She’d yell at me for doing that and then tell me what a bad kid I was for not taking my medicine.  As a kid, how do you reason with an adult like that?  I guess it never occurred to her that aspirin upsets my stomach.  Or that I threw up for reasons other than to exasperate her and to cause her grief because she did have to clean up after her sick child afterall.  I mean, WTF kind of mother yells at her kid for being sick?  

Once in first grade I was playing with friends in a field at recess.  My friends and I found some caterpillars to play with and I had the great idea of taking one home to show my mom.  I remember clearly how awesome I thought that caterpillar was as I watched it inch around in the palms of my hand.  I was really excited to show my mom, and really excited to take it home so that I could take care of it and watch it turn into a butterfly.  When I got home I eagerly held out my hands to show her the caterpillar, knowing, as a child would know, that my mom would think it was the coolest thing too.  Instead, she freaked out and made me take it out to the backyard immediately where she proceeded to spray it with an entire can of raid.  I remember watching it die, squirming around until it was motionless and lifeless.  My mom never apologized or acknowledged what happened.  In fact, I don’t remember much after watching it die.  I think this particular memory ends there because somewhere deep down inside, the little first grader emotionally shut down.  The poor, beautiful, innocent caterpillar died because of me, when all I really saw was its beauty and its potential. 

I don’t think anyone will ever truly get how ashamed I was made to feel for things that were never really my fault.  An abused child really is just an innocent creature put in the wrong situation. 

I’ll share more about how I got the scar on my leg later.  It really brings up a lot emotional trauma for me and I am just tired of carrying all this baggage around.  I’m ready to take on my life and to make it what I want it to be. 

Thanks for reading.

Good night.

Hey Dad

Hey Dad,

Today is Father’s Day and I miss you so much.  I can’t put into words how much I wish you were here.  I can barely remember what you look like or the sound of your voice.  I remember things in bits and pieces and at the most random moments.  I vaguely remember the sound of your laugh or the way your eyes would crinkle at the corners when you found something amusing.  I don’t remember much of you at all, and the memories I do I have are now fuzzy at best.  But even ‘tho the memories are fuzzy, what’s clear to me now is the love that you always had for me. 

I’ve been sitting here and thinking about you and I just realized that this December will be the 16th anniversary of your death.  Do you know what that means?  It means that this Christmas you will have been gone for over half of my life.  I can’t believe it. 

Dad, I miss you.  I love you.  I thank you.  I thank you for giving me all you had and for loving me the the way that you did.

Always,
Your baby girl

Ruth Graham

I came across this article about the death of Ruth Graham, the wife of evangelist Billy Graham.  She died Thursday at the age of 87.  When asked by someone how she was able to tolerate her husband’s frequest absences due to his mission work, she said, “I’d rather have a little of Bill than a lot of any other man.”

That is absolutely beautiful. 

Ruth Graham article

Paint Fumes

I’m pretty high right now, I think. 

My office is going through some renovations and I have been inhaling paint fumes all day.  I’m feeling kind of loopy and a bit aloof.

La la la….

Lucinda Roy

I’ve been watching and reading the latest news about the tragic events that occurred at Virginia Tech tonight.  I came across this great interview with one of the shooter’s professors that spoke volumes to me.  You can view it here.

The interview answered some questions, but also raised many more concerns and questions.  Many people knew he was troubled, and this particular professor repeatedly tried to get him help.  She even took it upon herself to work 1 on 1 with him, removing him from a particular poetry class because she was not comfortable with the idea that should he act out, she’d rather he act out on her and not on another faculty member or other students.  That was in Fall of 2005.  She did not hear much from him or about him since then.  Two years later it is now Spring of 2007 and 33 are dead and more are wounded.  Unfortunately there is only so much that the system can do to prevent such an event.  Or is there?

After I watching her interview, I wondered if tragedies like these really are inevitable.  It seems to me that everyone did what they could within the capabilities they were given.  After all, you can’t force someone to open up to you.  You can’t force them to go into counseling.  And you can’t just expect everyone to interpret a situation and to have the same conclusion as you. Perhaps there really are the few who are just beyond help.  Perhaps tragedies like this really are “just a fact of life”.  There’s no real answer to that one.

If we could prevent these tragedies from happening, what would those actions be?  Will more gun laws really help?  Wouldn’t the legal ramifications of owning an illegal weapon just make it more exciting to obtain?  Afterall, it’s the people that kill people, not the guns, right?  Will metal detectors in schools really make it that much safer?  And then what?  Metal detectors at grocery stores?  Or video cameras everywhere? 

If the race card is played, which undoubtedly it will at some point in the aftermath, are diversity classes going to change our perspectives about racial stereotypes and race relations?  Will there be demands for immigration law changes?  The shooter and his family were here legally through visas and, from what I read, all had clean background checks.  I also read that he obtained the weapon legally, using all the necessary id’s and following all procedures to make the purchase.

I’m just rambling here, but I guess all I want to say is, ‘watch the video’.  I watched the video and just felt my heart go out to her.  It shows a good, kind woman and teacher, doing what she could with what she knew then, who is now questioning if there was more she could have done and wondering if somehow she failed us at any time during her interactions with the shooter.  I admire and applaud her for doing what she did back then, and I hope everyone affected finds peace with all that has transpired.