I had this post all planned out, well, for the most part anyway. And then I found this quote by this author who I adore. Who I even harbored a crush on when in my adolescence I first saw old footage of him when he was young. This quote made me stop and think and this post may go in a completely different direction because of it. A more positive direction.

When I started this blog I was new at exploring all the different roles I fill in life, setting boundaries and trying new things. I was like an eager student after reading her first great work of literature. I felt empowered, strong, adventurous and great about myself.

It didn’t stick. I’ve written a lot lately about guilt, perfectionism and beating myself up excessively and without restraint. I’ve noticed too that I’ve fallen back into some of my old people pleasing patterns. I’m sure part of it is grief over losing my friend but I believe there is more to it than that.

I’m considering the possibility that it’s easy for me to see myself and be myself, free of people pleasing behaviors when I am not part of a couple. I don’t want out, hubby and I are doing just fine. In fact, I feel closer to him than ever before in our 22 year history together. It’s me. It seems that at some point after we reunited after our 5 month separation I slowly began to lose myself again. It’s as if I allow myself to become swallowed up in the “we” and forget me. Luckily this time around the “we” is working well. He’s the first one to point out when I am trying to people please or when I need time to myself. I started to write about how I need to get back to that person I used to be. But this quote….what if it’s ok that I’m not who I used to be? Again. I was a different person in 2008 than I was from 1997-2007. Why not another different person this year? What if that’s the whole point of this current identity crisis.

It has also been suggested to me by someone I trust that the possibility exists that I don’t like myself. At first that didn’t ring true but then she gave an example. She knows a man who doesn’t like his son. They are wired differently and butt heads over everything. I’m guessing the father wants the son to be a certain way and the son is not that way and so the father doesn’t like him. It’s a sad story. The father is hard on his son, figuratively beating him up all the time. When this was suggested to me I was both the father and the son in the example. The idea being that I don’t like myself so I beat myself up in some self-destructive effort to get me to be who I want to be.

It sounds strange. Maybe too much psycho-babble for most. But the more I consider this possibility the more it starts to make sense. I want to feel like I felt in 2008 but I don’t. So I beat myself up for it. But what if what I really need is to be someone different entirely. Some new version of me. Yes, I do still need to find myself again but what I find may not be what I expected. It’s mind blowing.

In fact, I’m not happy with how long it’s taking for me to complete my psych degree. I’ve always joked that I’ll be 72 before I get to treat patients but I’m starting to actually believe that lately. I’ve been reading a bit about Life Coaching and know my friend Dawn has nothing but wonderful things to say about her Life Coach. I have begun to wonder if this could be one way to work in a field similar to my chosen field of psychology while continuing to pursue my degree. No, I won’t be analyzing anyone’s past or diagnosing anyone with anything but I would be helping people. Maybe even helping them to find themselves. Maybe helping them like themselves. I know very little about it so have some feelers out and am at the information gathering stage right now. But thinking about doing it feels good. Maybe I’m onto something.

My mother’s day weekend trip is less than two months away. I can’t wait. I feel a strong need to go this year that I did not feel last year. I think reconnecting with my beloved ocean, relaxing, alone with my thoughts, away from my daily routine may help me find myself again. Another thing I’m feeling that I didn’t feel last year or the year before is fear. That’s one of the things that I’m not liking about myself right now and the most compelling reason for me to go. I know there is nothing to fear but I’m feeling so weirdly vulnerable that traveling alone is evoking some fear, along with the joyful anticipation of going to my happy place.

Right this moment I hear a bunch of boys, my sons included, playing in the backyard. This makes me smile. These sounds are priceless and will be gone in the blink of an eye. I so love my role as their mom. I love their roles as kids who get to play until it’s dark out. This mom-thing is amazing and probably the only role that has kept me somewhat grounded and remotely close to sanity during the past 3 years. But I can’t lose myself in that role again either. It’s not good for me or them. But they teach me things too. Like I want to play more.

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I’m not talking about actual panic attacks. I’ve come close to having one of those a couple of times and it’s a horrible feeling. But it’s been quite some time since I’ve felt that level of anxiety. I guess you could say that’s progress, right? RIGHT?!

My overall level of anxiety has been high ever since before Thanksgiving when Gina’s health started to deteriorate. In late December I took a risk by changing jobs. I realize that under usual circumstances changing jobs is not a huge risk but in this economy and in the mortgage industry…it was a risk. Then, just a few weeks later I started my dreaded statistics class.

There are certainly worse things that could have happened (besides Gina’s death of course). I think the combo of adjusting to my friend’s death, a very different type of job and a class that I not only hate, but is extremely difficult for me to grasp, was a bit much for me.

I still haven’t adjusted to Gina’s death. Yesterday her sister mentioned on Facebook that she could really use some advice from her sister. I could only respond, “me too”. I am reminded of her absence several times daily. I miss everything about her and our friendship. I still haven’t even stopped thinking from time to time that I have to call her and tell her about something that I know she would laugh about. I try to keep it in perspective. I mean if I feel this way I can’t imagine how her family, particularly her daughters feel. Then I feel guilty for missing her.

The job has been an adjustment just because the way things are set up is like nowhere else I have ever worked. I work from home now. The problem is not working from home. That I love. There was just a scary period there where I wasn’t sure it was going to work out and I wasn’t making as much money as I anticipated. Then I felt guilty for not making enough money. Luckily, the work situation is now going even better than expected. I kept telling myself that it was just growing pains but that did nothing to help my level of anxiety.

Stats. Sucks. I hate it. I don’t fully understand it. At this point I’ll be happy if I’m passing. We had our first test yesterday. I was even more anxious than usual over that test all day. Then I felt guilty for not being good enough at stats.

Are you seeing the pattern here? When I feel guilt I become anxious. And I feel guilty about almost everything. I know I’m not perfect and that no one expects me to be (except maybe myself). I know that perfectionism, worrying and anxiety don’t help any situation. I know that I’ve even written similar blog posts on this subject. Actually, now I’m starting to feel guilty about being repetitive and boring you to death.

This guilt thing is nonsense. I have to knock it off. I have to let myself off the hook. It’s causing me unnecessary turmoil. It’s not working for me at all, it never has and it never will. Beer helps but then I feel guilty for drinking too much. It’s too bad I can’t have the guilt/anxiety parts of my brain removed. I’d feel no emotional turmoil but without any guilt I’d become a criminal and end up in prison and I’m told they don’t serve beer there.

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This is one of the formulas we “learned” last night in stats class:

Are you f-ing kidding me?! What the hell am I supposed to do with that nonsense?!

There may be some of you reading that look at this formula and laugh, as I would if I saw 1 + 1 = 2 (if so, please contact me, I need help with my homework).

But I’m not laughing. That formula and the others we learned last night appear to me to be in a foreign language. Ok, well technically they are partially, due to the usage of Greek letters. Who the hell decided that was a good idea?! And why hasn’t that been modified for us boneheaded psych majors with no interest in this crap whatsoever? (Me). I can’t be the only one who finds this baffling and completely uninteresting in the history of psych majors. Greek letters? Seriously? I thought the only people who still used Greek letters were frat boys so that their little drinking clubs sounded more like official organizations.

Perhaps I can find a frat boy to tutor me in this foreign language class…maybe even a young Greek frat boy….hmmmm.

I have no idea how I’m going to pass this class. Can someone who knows what they’re doing please figure out the probability of me passing and let me know?

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My statistics class…well, it sucks. I hate every second of the class itself, greatly dislike the professor and am completely baffled most of the time. Much of the content is not difficult to understand. The calculator is difficult. It’s so unbelievably complicated to use. Besides that, the apparent complete uselessness of what I’m required to learn is annoying beyond belief.

The class is almost 4 hours long, every Monday night. That is a long time to spend doing something you despise, don’t fully understand and couldn’t care less about. The professor is a rigid, socially awkward, inept teacher and openly bigoted woman. It’s the perfect vortex of hell.

This week during class we were discussing matched pairs. This is an experiment conducted using groups of similar couples. When she asked if any of us could think of examples of matched pairs I said twins. Correct. She added that husbands and wives are another example. Another student chimed in with, “or husbands and husbands”. This clearly made her extremely uncomfortable. She said, “let’s just stick with husbands and wives and not discuss anything ‘bad’”. Based on this comment alone, you could argue that all she meant was she wanted to steer clear of any controversial topics. However, several of her own comments from the week before were equally offensive and so the conclusion that she actually does believe that same-sex couples are “bad” is a reasonable assumption. While I don’t agree with her on any level, it is her opinion. But why she feels the need to repeatedly state her opinions on social issues in a stats class is beyond baffling. This is not a sociology or human sexuality class. It’s stats.

She is also humorless but does not realize it. She says things that are meant to be funny but are not. She then awkwardly attempts to chastise the class for being a “tough crowd”. And finally, the material we cover in class is presented in the form of a power point presentation but is, in fact, simply copies of pages from the textbook. We wouldn’t want her to hurt herself putting any effort into the course material. She blows through the 312 functions on the calculator that are necessary to come up with answers to the problems we go over. When she asks if everyone is ready to move on she frequently pauses for about 1/8 of a second and then moves on, or simply ignores anyone who indicates they are not ready to move on.

There are several helpful sheets we can find online to walk us through the calculator functions for any given formula, which she directed us to. However, these will not be available to us whenever we have a test. I found that out when I asked if we were on our own with the calculator during tests and she said yes. Later in class someone else asked if we could utilize our calculator instructions during tests. She launched into a defensive rant about how the majority of the students in her last class (who did not have their calculator instructions during tests) earned A’s with only 2 or 3 earning C’s and D’s and therefore she did not feel there was any reason for her to make that exception for our class. Based on the significant number of students who were in attendance during our 1st session of class but were not in attendance during our 2nd session leads me to believe that she left one very important statistic out of her little rant. How many students dropped her last class I wonder?

Later on while going over bar graphs she discussed the four types of bar graphs. She showed us (on her power point taken directly from the textbook) what each of the four types looks like. She then showed different bar graphs and asked us to tell her which type each one was. Several of us answered the first one with the same answer. She said we were wrong and told us which type it actually was. We were all confused. We indicated that the graph she was showing us did not look anything like the example for that type of graph. Her response? She launched into yet another defensive rant about how statistics are not exact and if we are looking for exact answers we should try algebra instead. I don’t know about everyone else in class but I’m not there because I want to try statistics. I’m there because it’s a required course for my major. And one of the prerequisites is algebra!

During the 4 hours of misery that is this class she graciously allows us one break. Twelve minutes. Not 10. Not 15. Twelve.

I am determined to pass this class because I need to move forward. I’m trying to look at it in much the same way I did pregnancy and childbirth. The process is hell but the end result is worth it. I wonder how many times I’ll have to repeat this mantra to myself before the end of this semester. I know one thing. I cannot wait to get my hands on the class evaluation that students are asked to fill out at the completion of each class.

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I so wish I could obtain my PsyD by going to the library 3 days a week. I love the library. I don’t disagree that much of what we learn in college is not applicable in the real world. But, the way it works is that if I ever want to be a therapist I have to take the required courses to earn the required degree.

Tonight was my first night back in school. Stats. Ugh. And that’s all I have to say about that. Well, that’s not true or there would be no blog post.

I tried taking this terrifying excruciatingly boring useless required course last time around via an online class. I couldn’t keep up without an actual professor in a classroom setting. Math is not my strong suit. It doesn’t interest me at all. I understand why it’s required for a psych degree. If I ever decide to get into research and conduct experiments I will need it. I don’t see myself doing that but you just never know.

So that is why on this Monday night I was trying to stay awake in stats class while the season premier of Anthony Bourdain; No Reservations was on.

 The professor is….odd. I expect that from psych professors. I even enjoy it. It makes talking about psych, especially abnormal psych, that much more interesting. But this class was awkward and mind-numbing from the beginning. She had printed little name cards for us to put up in front of us like in kindergarten. Of course mine said, “Cynthia” because that’s my legal name and how I am registered in their system so I had a chip on my shoulder right away. No one EVER calls me that. Ever. I can’t stand it. She insisted that we crowd into the first three rows of the classroom for reasons that were never made clear. She said several inappropriate things while struggling to come up with examples in which we would ever use the particular type of survey samples we were covering. She is not a great public speaker or even a great communicator.

On the plus side, because it only meets one night a week, I have only 13 more classes to attend and then I’m done. Provided I pass of course….

After all this bitching and whining though, I have to say it felt great to be back in school. I know I’ll be around 73 when I finally finish and am able to actually practice psychology with real patients but at least I feel like I’m doing something about it. It’s what I want to do. Not taking classes does not get me any closer to that. Taking even one horrid class does get me one step closer.

And now I have something to look forward to tomorrow night. Anthony Bourdain, with all his snark and shenanigans is patiently waiting for me on my DVR.

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I learned the lesson contained in this quote about a year and a half ago.  It took 38 years of focusing on taking care of as many things for other people as I could to learn this lesson.  I know it is the absolute truth.  And yet it seems I have forgotten it somewhere along the way.

I haven’t fallen back into my old people pleasing codependent ways by any stretch of the imagination.  I have just gotten caught up in the business of life and have become less than vigilant about taking care of myself.  I’ve fallen into a rut. I’m certain it is mostly because my once troubled marriage is back on the right track and I have a job that I like (and hope to keep).  I’ve grown complacent and as a result, neglectful of myself.

I stopped working out regularly when I first became unemployed and we canceled our fabulous gym membership as a result of necessary cutbacks. Yes, I loved that gym but the truth is that it’s just an excuse.  There are several other significantly less expensive ways for me to get in a daily workout.

I haven’t completed a book in over two months. Reading is one of my favorite things ever! Part of this is because in the summer, there’s a lot more to do so less time to read.

I haven’t spent very much time alone since early in the summer when hubby took the boys camping for a weekend. I used to make certain I got enough alone time each week. Sometimes that meant entire weekends, other times just a few hours hanging out in a bookstore. I can’t even remember the last time I set foot in a bookstore or spent even a few house completely alone.

I used to be an avid obsessed scrapbooker.  I stopped completely about two years ago, when hubby and I were having serious problems. I found I couldn’t focus on it. To date, I’ve not gotten back into it at all and I miss it.

I don’t spend enough time with any of my friends. I have several groups of friends and individuals with whom I used to spend much more time than I do now. I love and need my friends. I miss them.

I wasn’t able to register for classes during the summer or fall semesters, again due to finances. I miss school more than any of the other things I’ve been neglecting. I feel as if my goal is slipping away and I have got to get back in for the winter semester.

This all came to my attention during an intense conversation I had last week (I discovered even more disturbing revelations during the same conversation but that’s a post all on it’s own). Why have I stopped doing so many of the things that I need to do?  It’s the overall theme of this blog for f—’s sake! I’ve wasted precious time doing things I don’t really want to do, procrastinating, worrying and indulging in mindless distractions.

Many of the things I have been neglecting to do for myself can be done together and/or make the other things easier to fit in. When I’m working out on a regular basis I feel better about myself, it relieves stress, provides alone time and increases my energy. This would allow me to be less stressed, worry less and provide more stamina to get to other things. Scrapbooking is a fun and creative thing that I do for myself and my kids, but also would allow me to spend more time with my friend who also scrapbook.

I need to trim the fat, and not just in my diet.  I need to stop spending time doing things that are of no value or that are actually of negative value. Back to basics. This next week will be spent in serious evaluation of virtually everything I do every day in order to trim that fat and get back to me.

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Have you read about the rape accusation and subsequent guilty verdict and six year prison sentence of up and coming soccer star Eric Frimpong?

This is not a new story but it is new to me.  By every account I have read,  (Here,  Here, Here and Here) this “case” appears to be…and this is a major understatement….an utter joke of an investigation and trial, with no compelling evidence and a complete travesty of justice.  It’s not only a heartbreaking story about an apparently innocent man being sentenced to prison in the prime of his life but also an embarrassing reminder of the flaws in the American criminal justice system.  How a non-existent police investigation and one inept attorney combined with a judge that can either only be “phoning it in” or downright corrupt, can ruin the life of a promising young man with virtually no evidence is beyond comprehension.

I have never experienced rape.  I can only guess at the physical and emotional scars left by such a traumatizing event.  When an actual rape has occurred, I believe the perpetrator deserves severe punishment.  That is not what this post is about.

This post is about how this woman accused this man of rape even though she was too drunk to remember any details.  This post is about how the defendant’s DNA was nowhere to be found on the victim.  This post is about how her jealous ex-boyfriend’s DNA was found on the victim but he was never even investigated.  This post is about how the accused had no scars, scratches or marks despite the victim’s claims that she fought back hard.

This all concerns me for two reasons.  The first one is the overall failures that seem to occur more and more frequently in both our criminal and civil court systems.  The second one is much more personal.  I have two boys who will (hopefully) someday be in college and attending parties along with inebriated women with jealous ex-boyfriends.  This could happen to them.  This could happen to anyone.  In America.  Unbelievable.

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“The good Christian should beware of mathematicians. The danger already exists that mathematicians have made a covenant with the devil to darken the spirit and confine man in the bonds of Hell.” — Augustine of Hippo

In light of recent spiritual/mystical “coincidences” noted by me on this blog, I have to point out that it is absolutely bizarre that in my search for a snarky quote about math, I find the perfect one, and it’s from a Roman Catholic Saint!

So, I’m taking Statistics this semester, and only Statistics.  I have a very strong hatred for math, mostly because I just don’t understand it.  Isn’t that why we have computers anyway?!  This is a required course.  Well, not exactly.  I could have chosen a different math course but I will need Stats down the road in pursuit of my PsyD so I figured I better take it now.

I tried Stats once before, when I “attended” college right after high school.  Not so much.  I vividly remember staring at what the instructor was writing on the board as if it were Sanskrit.  I had no clue.  I’m hoping this time around will be a little better.  I’m guessing that the mere fact that I won’t be hungover every day this time around will make a profound difference on my ability to learn the material.  If I’m wrong about that, I may just start drinking heavily.

So, I am approaching this class with a cautious optimism.  I felt the same way about Speech last semester and did just fine.  I even enjoyed it.  Maybe it’s possible that I’ll enjoy Statistics?  That seems a little far-fetched.  Maybe it’s possible that I can PASS Statistics. 

I purchased the ridiculously expensive required graphing calculator and my anxiety level rose just looking at it. 

I'm In Serious Trouble

So many buttons.  A ginormous screen.  A USB plug-in.  Yes, it plugs into the computer.  I’m assuming I will be uploading my calculations and graphs to my instructor.  Crap, that means no cheating.

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“I am embarrassed to admit what drew me to psychology. I didn’t want to go to medical school. I was getting good grades in psychology and I was charismatic and people in the psychology department liked me. It was as low a level as that.”
— Ram Dass

I knew that when I returned to college, this time around would be different.  I knew that I was much more focused and serious about school than I was right after high school.  I also knew what I wanted to do…be a Psychologist. 

I also knew that I tend to procrastinate in general, coasted by with mostly B’s and C’s in high school, and that it would be a long and difficult road this time around.

My first semester, I managed to pull off a 3.5 GPA which landed me on the Honor Roll!  I got the notice in the mail today and I couldn’t have been more excited.  I know it sounds dorky, but it truly made my day. Of course, now I want a 4.0.

I think I may actually be able to DO this! 

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I’ll get this out of the way right now…I don’t make new year’s resolutions so that isn’t what this post is about.  I don’t believe in making promises to yourself based on an arbitrarily chosen date just because it’s what we’re SUPPOSED to do.  I have a tremendous dislike for doing anything that I’m SUPPOSED to do.  What if I’m not ready to make that change until March 1st or June 23rd? 

I did make a resolution somewhere around October 1st, 2007 to attempt to regain some semblance of mental health.  That month I started on a path to self-awareness and I have taken no prisoners.  Most of the work done on that resolution took place during 2008 so now I’m looking back and am amazed, absolutely blown away, by how huge this past year was….

My Marriage:  At this time last year, hubby and I had been fighting pretty much non-stop for 2 months solid.  We were in marriage counseling but were miserable.  A few days after we rang in the new year we separated for 5 months.  Today, we are happier than we have ever been, with ourselves and with each other.  My resolution has had a tremendous impact on both of us individually and on our marriage.  Luckily, he made the same resolution somewhere around March of 2008 and so we were on the same path, instead of the two very different ones we started the year on.

Me:  At some point, after making the resolution to regain some semblance of mental health, I was shocked to discover that I had never had it in the first place.  So, I was forced to revise my resolution to FIND some semblance of mental health.  It may seem like semantics but the difference is monumental.  I spent my 5 month marital separation in virtually constant introspection and very frequent isolation.  I learned a lot about myself and have grown tremendously.  In 2008, I took a solo trip for the very first time in my life, I lost my career, started a business (that didn’t work out but at least I tried), went back to college and discovered a new passion for writing when I became a blogger. 

I’d say that with the exception of currently being unemployed for over 6 months, 2008 was a pretty damn good year!  Yes, there was pain and depression and anxiety and loss.  But there was also tremendous growth, a family saved from divorce, and exciting new opportunities, challenges, and adventures.  I am a better person for having gone through all the ups and downs of the past year and am looking forward to what 2009 brings.

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