It's All In Who You Sleep With

This morning I got home from my workout and a fantastic prize was waiting for me. A FWB called and told me he has an extra ticket to THE biggest football game in the PAC 1o this year! So not only do I get to cheer on Oregon as they kill USC, I might get laid too! Oh, happy day!

Parents Just Don't Understand

Most of you know that the kids and I have moved in with my parents to weather this economic crisis. Griffin and Molly are overjoyed. They get an acre to run around, chickens, a dog, a big house, multiple TVs, computers, and toys. Plus, dinner on the table every night at 6:00 with their grandparents. Sounds pretty sweet, right? Not so much.

Let me start with the good stuff. I'm living here rent free! My parents ask for NO MONEY in exchange for feeding, clothing, and housing all three of us. Oh, and they gave me a cell phone too. And I'm not the one who has to make that 6:00 dinner every night; it's only my turn two nights a week. I do get along with my parents superficially. We don't stray into any deep conversation, but we watch Survivor and The Amazing Race together. As long as I stay agreeable, everything runs smoothly. But here's the hitch: I'm not always agreeable. I know, you're surprised!

When I moved back in my parents informed me that I would be living under their rules, which is fine. It's their house. But what they failed to mention was that these rules would be the same rules that I lived under when I was SIXTEEN! Whatever they ask me to do, I must respond, "OK, Dad" or "OK, Mom," otherwise the shit hits the fan. That means any chore, at any given moment. It also means that they can do whatever they want. For example, my dad makes breakfast every morning and then leaves for work. I come in and the coffee supplies are out, the peanut butter, jelly, whatever. If he gets home later and it's his night to cook, I hear, "Jen, the kitchen needs to be clean for whoever is cooking that night." What? Then clean up, you stupid old man! They go out and get high on the front porch and the chips and bottles will stay out there for a week. I leave my mail on the table for an afternoon and I'm "not picking up" after myself. "OK, Mom." They gave me the cell phone so that I could check in and tell them where I am and when I will be home. If I don't, you better believe they'll be calling me. Here's the icing on the cake. They are both in their 60s and my dad has had a minor stroke. They both have NO MEMORY. So I'll tell them what I'm doing and they don't remember anyway! We've lived here four months and they still don't know what nights the kids are with Angus! Every fucking week, "Where are the kids?" ARGH!

LOL. I know, I know. I should shut up and deal with it. On the scale of things, I don't have it bad. I know people whose relationships with their parents are waaaaaay more fucked up than mine (I'm talking to you, Pitrey). But I'm feeling particularly crazy about it right now because on Monday we all leave on a five day trip to Disneyland. My mom got it into her head that my children "deserve a wonderful memory." What, taking them to eat at the pizza place with a playland is not good enough? So she booked flights and four nights at the actual Disneyland hotel. "Oooh, Jen. There's a Rainforest Cafe at the hotel! We HAVE to do that!" Holy Jesus, please help me!

I'm not sure why I am dreading this trip so much. It's an amazing thing, right? Except, it just one more thing that I HAVE to be grateful for. I have to be giddy about it or else I'm a bad daughter. What woman would be giddy about this trip? I'm the one who has to do all the packing. I'm the one who have to keep the kids on good behavior during their sugar fueled death march through the Magic Kingdom. I'm the one who has to be polite and make conversation with two kids and two grandparents for five days. I don't have anything to say to ANY of them! Oh my God. Listen to me. I'm full of shit. The kids are going to have a fabulous, ridiculous time. My parents are paying for everything. I'm sure I'll have fun. And I'm sure I'll gain back five pounds.

Stupid Elizabeth Gilbert

Ok. I'm still in a great mood today, but here's the journal entry I wrote on a day I was feeling particularly bitter about the last couple of years of my life. It's ok to laugh; crazy people are funny, and I'm the craziest.

I hate Elizabeth Gilbert. She is a peddler of false hopes. You know that book she wrote? It’s complete bullshit. I read it right after my divorce/cataclysmic life-meltdown (or CLM) and I thought it was enchanting. An educated woman, freed from the bonds of marriage, goes on an exotic sojourn and empowers her mind, body, and soul, all while eating luscious food yet remaining beautiful enough to have romantic liaisons with a Brazilian. How absurd is that? In reality, there is no exotic trip to a holy shrine where one can meet a cowboy who will speak with the wisdom of Yoda. There are no beautiful Italian twins waiting to teach you the language of romance. There is definitely no cosmic hermit ready to reveal the true nature of your being.

I heard that Julia Roberts is going to play Elizabeth is the film adaptation. That’s the cherry on top. As if the book wasn’t enough of a pipe dream, we can imagine that we will handle it all with the beauty and sass of Pretty Woman? If, by some weird Hollywood accident, my life were made into a movie, they would have to find an actress that looked like the love child of Rosie O’Donnell and Rosie Perez, with the personality of Don Rickles.

After a CLM, there are many adventures in store, to be sure, and they are all educational in their way. Home foreclosure, bankruptcy, automobile fires, STDs, repo men, cancer, and abortion are a few of the things that were in store for me. I didn’t handle any of it with beauty or sass; there was certainly no grace involved. Did I grow as a person? Yes. Can I say that I am now free of the habits that put me in those situations? Hardly. But let’s face it, that’s not the stuff of an Oprah book. Everybody wants the transformative moment, where the heroine shakes off the blinders of the past and embraces herself as the goddesses she is meant to be. Catharsis!

You might be thinking that I’m bitter; this is all so much sour grapes. You’re right. I am bitter. Elizabeth wrote a beautiful book that I actually highlighted some of (but don’t tell anybody). I shouldn’t detract from what she went through, which I’m sure was intensely painful for her. What pisses me off is the way this book is celebrated as something any woman can achieve. She did this amazing thing by taking a year of her life to travel and sculpt her life into what she wanted it to be. What about the rest of us? Where’s the book telling me how to survive if I don’t have a glamorous career that will allow me to travel to three countries to find myself? Where is the book that would have clued me in to how crazy I was going to feel and the crazy-induced decisions I would make and the crazy-fueled places I would end up? That would be one hell of a travelogue! That’s the book I want.

Do I have to write it myself?

It Ain't Where I Been, But Where I'm 'Bout to Go

I woke up today in a good mood. I've decided that this whole process is like going through detox. Your body is kind of on a roller coaster, along with your moods. Anyway, I was psyched to try out my new, expensive running shoes that I bought yesterday. I went to a running store and everything, just like a real athlete! (LOL) I've been nervous with this running plan that I wouldn't be able to do each step up. Every time it called for more time or distance, I was sure I wouldn't be able to do it. But every time the intensity has increased, I've managed it with no problem. Today, I finally believe that if I follow the plan, then I am going to be able to run a 5k at the end. Which got me thinking, what could I accomplish after that? Hmm... half-marathon? Stay tuned.

On the career front, I got some disappointing news yesterday. My connection at the U of O informed that it's not a sure thing that I can be a research assistant this year. When we first met, I got the impression that she could hire whoever she wanted. The reality is that she is required to do an open search and as she put it, "some amazing applications have come in." I think that's code for: you can't compete, Jen! She said she would do what she could, but I should be realistic. At first I was bummed, but then I realized that it wouldn't be so bad to be an at-home mom this year and focus on my own personal growth. And I don't need the job to get into the grad program, it just would have looked good on the application. But I'm still capable of getting in on my own. I just need to buckle down, write a killer essay, and kick-ass on the GRE. I can do that.

And finally, Trish asked me yesterday if I've ever read, "Eat, Pray, Love." I have and I love it; I actually read it twice. But it reminded me that once (I think it was when I found out that Julia Roberts is going to play her in the movie), I wrote this snarky entry about the author in my journal. I want to share it with you because it's pretty funny, but I'm going to have to wait until I'm in a nasty mood. I just don't feel like tearing somebody else down today. We'll see what the roller coaster has in store for tomorrow. :)

No More Medicating

When Angus told me he was leaving, after 14 years together, it literally felt like somebody had reached into my chest and tore out half of my heart. I walked around with a sucking chest-wound for a long time—2 years really. Little by little it started to scab over but it never felt right again. It was like the old part couldn’t grow back. Gnarly scar tissue could only cover up the hole. Then I met Robert and my heart started to bleed a little bit, like that scar tissue was getting pulled back, so I could let somebody new in. That scared me a lot. I thought, “What if I let him in and then we don’t end up together? We have to end up together or I’m going to end up even more damaged!” And I made some stupid decisions in my panic. Ultimately, my irrational behavior drove Robert off. So I brought about the very thing that I was most terrified of having happen. And now I’m left with this open wound again.

Here’s the thing that they don’t tell you about being healthy: you can’t numb yourself. I use food to self-medicate. Other people use alcohol or drugs. For me, it’s always been food. It makes me feel comforted and safe, like I’m doing something nice for myself. And also, I’ve been thinking that being fat was what I used as my excuse for why nobody wants to be with me. If I’m fat then it’s not because I’m broken. It’s because men are shallow, not because I’m too fucked up to be with.

But what happens when you can’t have the food? You just have to feel the pain; there’s no way to dull the feelings. Now I feel pain all the time. It’s not going away. I cry every day and I don’t know how to escape. You just have to bear it. It’s no wonder so many people use food, drugs, alcohol, or sex to hide. It’s exhausting and it doesn’t stop. And the worst part is the realization that even when my heart stops bleeding again, it won’t be whole. I’m going to have to learn to use a scarred and damaged heart. I know logically that it can be done and I’m most likely strong enough to do it. But thinking about the energy and grief that lies between me today and the day that I know how to use my heart properly is so demoralizing that it almost stops me from moving forward.

Almost.

Feeling Blue

I woke up depressed today and I even emailed Robert. That was stupid because he only had a smartass response. I so badly wanted him to apologize and make things right. God, I have such a knack for setting myself up for disappointment.

I did go to the gym, and since my foot is messed up, I rode the bike. Then I did all the weight machines again. It went more smoothly this time because I kinda knew what I was doing. In total, I was there for an hour. That felt good.

Not Much to Report

I spent yesterday in the Coast Range watching college football and eating cupcakes. OSU lost but still embarrassed USC, so I'm happy about that. Mostly I'm happy about having two good friends who are so generous with their time, home, and hospitality. Karin and Misty treat us like part of the family and always make us feel welcome. The kids and I had a great time hanging out, doing art projects, watching football, making cookies, and playing games. We stayed all day and over night. I think it's better to have a few great friends than a bunch of acquaintances.

The second date with Brian was interesting. I think I feel ambivalent about him or maybe just dating in general. I don't feel that normal drive to make something happen. I had a good time and he makes me laugh but there's no chemistry really. But I like hanging out with him so maybe that is what I need right now, just somebody to have fun with. And I'm sure I'm setting my expectations too high wanting romance instantly.

Oh a side note, while we were walking together on campus, I slipped and fell on the sidewalk. Besides from the embarrassment, my foot twisted in a weird way and is now swollen. I'm hoping I can still run tomorrow but I might have to try an alternative like the stationary bike.