New Life

I picked myself up, brushed myself off and had coffee with 4.0 today. And it was good. Regardless of 3.0 and his behavior, I do still know that I have something to offer a man. I know that I'm funny. I know that I'm smart. I know that I'm a complete dork, but pretty dang okay with that. And whether or not I wear my heart on my sleeve, if I didn't live my life like that, I wouldn't be me. And being okay with being me is the most important part of my life today. That's what recovery is all about. I'm just fine. In fact, I'm better than fine, and deserve to be that today. If ONLY for today.

I'm going to be Auntie Kate. If there was any drama, it was GOOD drama. My brother and sister in law are pregnant, and this summer, there will be a wee one with our last name for me to love and send very, very noisy toys to.

Because that's how I roll.....

Okay, friends of my sister. Do not tell her I announced this on my blog. Let her tell you. Pleaseandthankyou!

Good times were had by all. Especially since I won at Monopoly. That ALWAYS makes holidays better.....

Gobble. Gobble.

And I have tears in my eyes and I DON'T want to go home. I just want to stay here with my friends so I don't have to do the family drama.

And I only have nine hours to get an attitude adjustment.

I took the day off from work today. Since my mother is getting her children home all at once with grandma tomorrow, I finished up my Christmas shopping so that I can pass gifts along. I LOVE giving gifts. I HATE standing in the line at the post office. This will be the first Thanksgiving (or any holiday for that matter) that we have all been together in a long, long time. At least six years, if I recall correctly. My church job, my sister's distance, my sister in law's family, the drinking and the dying all got in the way. So, we're giving this holiday a try. Who knows how it will turn out? Plus, my little heart got broken. Shopping fixes that, right?

This Therapy Tuesday turned out to be one of the best I've had in a long time.

"So, he got pedestal status pretty damn quick, huh?"

Me looking into the corner, because looking her in the eye just doesn't work when we're talking hard stuff. And thinking, what the hell? We've been working on taking Jason off the pedestal for three years now. How does she know 3.0 got there so quick? "Yep."

"How'd he earn that? By showing you a little kindness and respect? Opening some doors?"

Yep.

"What do you think about perhaps adding a few more criteria for pedestal status?"

Why does she have to be right all the time? I get it! I get it already. Why I have to go see her every week for things like this to finally sink in, I don't know. But for now? I don't question it. It's situations like this that my history of more than four years with her allows her to say things like that and for it to make sense.

So I went and had coffee with M and we laughed about my willingness to put aside my growth, dignity and recovery for the hands of a man that paid for dinner. Then I went shopping and took a nap. It doesn't get any better than that today.

Here's the lies from today's crazy.

"I guess nice guys don't like you either. Why did you think it would be any other way?"

"There's someone cuter, prettier, smarter, funnier, whateverier out there that he wants to get to know more than you." (And even if this is true, what the hell difference should it make in MY head?)

And the ever present, "You're a loser. You've always been a loser. This is just another reason you are a loser."

There, now you have the sniveling, whininess that is me today. Only strangely, I don't even want to talk about it, I'm so hurt. That's why the crazy is taking over.

Oh Internet. Why I even bother with this dating stuff, I don't even know. Crushed. Once again. He's "not ready to date." according to the e-mail I received this morning.

And I cried for a few minutes, and I'm still sad. But at least I think I know this time it's not about me.

There are still Awesome Socks My Mom Makes on those feet, but you've seen them in all their glory already.

Because of the discussion yesterday concerning when and if to drop trou (Thanks Malaise, I love that phrase!) with a new man, I e-mailed my recovery dad to explain the idea of "waiting" to me. It takes a village to keep this girl sober and sane, so when it comes to big decisions, I bring in the posse. Even for things like this. No matter how embarassing. Because learning to live a different way and be okay with being me is the biggest challenge I've faced thus far in life. Not drinking aside, if I don't keep my thinking and actions in line with my own morality, the crazy WILL set in and then it's only a matter of time before I think drinking to make it all go away sounds like a very good idea.

Here's how he explained it to me. "Kate, you're an alcoholic. The actions that are familiar and comfortable to you take you to the extremes. Extreme happiness, extreme self-pity, extreme sadness and extreme pleasure. Those extremes, the chaos they create, and the wreckage that they bring to you and others have led you back to the drink every single time. Do something uncomfortable and unfamiliar. See how it fits. Wait for a bit."

And then I remember my life with Jason. The extremes and the chaos and how very sick it made me feel inside. At one point, we were doing anything possible to obliterate reality. Drinking, extreme sports (while drunk), crazy insane sex, dangerous activities; anything to get us to forget our thoughts for just a few minutes. The thoughts that still haunt me sometimes. Yes, I like pleasure and I like a bit of the extreme, but today it has to be tempered with reality or everything in my life becomes an emergency. And I don't want to be the emergency anymore. I by no means lead a dull or boring life. I really like this guy. I don't want to start a life of extremes with him just because I know it will feel good momentarily. So for now, I will wait. Be a little uncomfortable. Just to see how it fits.

I went to Tallgrass to work with a newcomer last night and as I was leaving, Tom B., who is probably the only person that has seen me at my very, very worst and still loves me says to me, "Promise me. Promise me you'll keep your pants on tonight. You're worth it. You're a prize worth working for." And I did. Because what Tom says? Goes. He had a large hand in saving my life and I do what he says. Every time. No arguing. His advice has not yet failed me in any area of living.

So when the threat of sex was upon us, Tom's face, his big loving arms that I have cried waterfalls of tears in and laughed in, flashed before my eyes and I said, "I can't. Not tonight."

And then had to go home and lie in bed. Frustrated beyond belief.

Damn promises.

We're taking a break from my dating life.

Sort of.

When I was at Tallgrass and working on the 4th step in my recovery program, I got to the section on fears and immediately froze. This is what had been the problem all along. Fear. Of everything. All the time. I sat in the office bawling (As usual. In the three years they've been open, I still hold the prize for the most time spent bawling. Whenever they get a crier, they just call me to come talk to them. Paybacks are a bitch.) asking Dan how I was supposed to put that on paper. How do you put into words that all encompassing fear that immobilizes you, closes your brain off from any lucid thought and leads you back to the bottle every time? How is that possible? And he asked me a simple question. "Let's start with people, okay? In relationships with family, friends, whoever, what are you most afraid of?" And this is what spilled out of my mouth.

"I'm stupid, fat and ugly."

What. The. Hell.

I had no idea I thought that of myself. I had no clue how that got into my head, but it pretty much summed up my fear of people. And today when I feel fearful of people, I go right back there. I'm stupid. I don't know how to be a good friend. I don't know how to be in a relationship. I don't know how to talk to people at all. I'm fat. I need to lose weight. I'll always be overweight and people are always looking at me and thinking that. I'm ugly. No one wants me. No one wants to be seen with me. I'm not someone anyone would be proud to have on their arm. THOSE are the lies that get perpetuated when I am alone in my head. Today, I KNOW they are lies and I KNOW how to make them go away. I pick up the phone and tell my sponsor that the voices are getting louder and she tells me to ask God to remove them and go help another alcoholic. It really is that simple.

So when 3.0 starts telling me that he likes the whole package of me; that I'm smart and funny and beautiful and have a smoking hot rack, I immediately go to mistrust and fear. He doesn't know what the voices tell me and he doesn't know that if he really gets to know me that he'll find out that I really am stupid, fat and ugly. And I beat those thoughts with a very large stick, but they are never quite beaten far enough down. They're always lurking at the surface. Someday, I'd like them to take flight, leave the nest, start families of their own and perpetuate someone else's crazy. But for now, I keep fighting the good fight. And kissing 3.0. I get to see him tonight...

Maybe some day I'll post about something other than my dating life, but for now I think you'll have to put up with me.

Please?

He lives eight blocks from me. Which could be a bad thing..... After his daughter fell asleep, I drove over there and we kissed in the car. Like steaming up the windows kissing. I felt like a teenager.

And I had to turn the defrost on in order to drive home. I think my brain was a little foggy as well.....

hehehehehehehe!

This much giddiness is probably not as healthy as it should be, but I don't care. I can't stop giggling when I tell people about my date. He sent me an e-mail fifteen minutes after he dropped me off on Friday night and called for lunch on Saturday. But I had plans so he came and picked me up later and we spent the afternoon together.

The threat of kissing him takes my breath away and I blush when he grabs my hand. How can this happen so fast? Seeing his name on my phone makes my face melt into a smile.

I think I should be scared and then I think I should just be excited.

It's good to be this happy, right?

Oh internet.... I just got home and it was so very wonderful. He laughed because I was talking so much and he's funny and even joked when I almost fell down the stairs at the restaurant so I didn't feel so stupid. And we tried to go bowling but it was stupid Junior Achievement bowlathon night. Little shits. So we went to a bar and played fooseball and he didn't want the night to be over so we went to a movie and because it was kinda scary and I jumped alot, he took my hand right at the end and then asked if it was okay that he wanted to do that. And he opened all the doors for me AND paid AND he wants to see me again AND told me that he has a rule that he doesn't kiss on the first date, but that we definitely needed to go out again.

3.0? So far, so good.

Oh, and he's really handsome and tall. Really tall.

And he thinks I'm pretty.

And this may sound really stupid, but when he dropped me off? He waited to pull away until I had the door open and I waved good night. I don't know why I think that's so important, but I do and it's that little thing, right at the very end, that made the night.

What a great topic for my 200th post! *humming off to bed....*

And my hair looks perfect! That never happens! 3.0 gets his chance tonight.

No loving socks today. None of them matched. But these are my favorite shoes. And PLEASE notice that these jeans are long. Like, too long! That never happens to tall girls like me!

Now, for the good stuff. I walked out of work last night to a flat tire. Good thing my co-worker noticed, because it was on the rear passenger side and knowing me, even if I had started to drive away and heard or felt something bad, I would have been too freaked out to stop and look. I'm a complete dork like that.

But here's the cool thing. Instead of melting into a pile of sobbing girliness, I whipped out my phone, called my friend Bob who came within ten minutes and he and his son put on my spare, called the tire place to make sure it was still open and sent me on my way. I took charge, people! I may not know how to change a tire, but I have friends. Good, good friends who will use this for joking fodder at some point in my life and I'm very okay with that today. This is one of those situations that would have sent me home in tears because I don't have a husband around to take care of it for me. Well, for today (or yesterday) I'm good with that because there's awesome men out there that will help me just because I'm worth helping.

So there.

I talked to 3.0 on the phone last night and we're going to have dinner together this Friday night! He was very easy to talk to and I hope he is in person, too.

Gay Boyfriend asked me this morning who I was talking to last night and I told him it was some new guy and he asked if I'd broken up with 1.0 yet. And I said no. The disdain emanated from him like humidity in July. Smothering. Instantly, my livid-o-meter started going off and I knew the things that were going to come out of my mouth were not going to be pleasant, so I said nothing at all. He's never had a successful long-term relationship. Why would I take advice from him? Followed closely by, "Who are you to judge me?"

Am I wrong here? Do I have to officially break it off with 1.0 in order to meet this new guy? I figure he dug his own grave through bad behavior. Is it up to me to point out to him why I don't care to continue to go out with him? And if you've been reading for any amount of time, you know I absolutely don't know the answer to this one.

Help.

I'm wearing my power boots today. I think I'll kick someone's ass.

Or not.

Version 2.0 has stopped calling since I told him I wouldn't send him a picture of my boobies, but Version 3.0 sent me his phone number last night. "I'm dating, I'm dating" she sings!

And I have absolutely no plans for the weekend. None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. I need some ideas.

As you can tell, I got nothin' today.

This is what I woke up to this morning.

Oh, and yesterday morning? I got an e-mail from someone new on match.com. Maybe it will all work out in the end. Good bye silly man, hello someone different. I do believe the dating gods are giving me another chance.

And like I told my therapist this morning, I knew when I was feeling sorry for myself and thinking bad things about myself on Sunday night, I would probably (hopefully) wake up on Monday morning and not feel that way. And I didn't. At least not so much. That's some serious progress - that the self-hatred doesn't go as deep or last as long.

Oh, and I started a new blog to share my recipes with you. Because I'm self-important and narcissistic like that. The Basement Cook. The title sounds like I'm making meth or something. But you all know me better than that.

Or do you?

My pleasant Sunday night activites were disrupted by tears and not a little bit of self-pity. Sunday nights are mine I tell you. Mine! To regroup. To cook. To clean Tiny Apartment. And to relax. Mr. Internet disappeared over the weekend, after making promises to go to church together on Saturday night. Granted, he called and told me on Friday night that he'd changed his plans, but I wasn't happy about that to begin with. He called tonight to tell me he was home and asked what I was cooking for the week. Um, awesome ground turkey meatloaf with a provolone cheese sauce layer and roasted cauliflower and he said he'd get his laundry started and be over in about an hour. An hour and a half later, he calls and he's too tired to come over.

No matter what I tried to steel myself against, I don't like this one bit and I'm completely reduced to tears. Tears I had absolutely no intentions of ever shedding over this first foray into the dating world. Why can't I get my heart to shut off? Why do I have to feel so much about everything all the time?

This is an utter rejection in my mind. Tells me I'm undesirable. Tells me once again, that I'm not worth pursuing, or pleasing, or going the extra mile for. Tells me to pack my bags and give up on the dating world. For an instant I know these are lies. Lies that my head tells me, but my life situations keep perpetuating. And the next instant, I just want to curl into a ball and crawl into bed and pretend I don't exist. Or that I didn't even try.

But I did. And I'm not sure I'm up to the hurt. I think perhaps I'd rather be alone than feel this rejection over and over as I try. Trying is not what it's cracked up to be today. Not one bit.

These are the most recent edition of Awesome Socks My Mom Makes, and they happen to be my favorite. Feel free to drool.

Today, it is snowing. I LOVE the snow! I LOVE it! As I was sitting doing my meditation this morning, looking out the window, I was reminded of the safe feeling I had when I was at Tallgrass in the middle of the windswept, frozen prairie almost two years ago. What a gift that was. And I'm hoping that the snow always reminds me, years from now, that I can be safe and secure in my own skin. Whenever I want to.

Guess what?! There might be a Mr. Internet version 2.0. We chatted online yesterday and I'm going to meet him next time he's here in town. Is this what dating is?

I think I've stated before that I rarely watch tv and getting through a whole movie is like pulling teeth. I just don't have the patience to sit there. On Election night, I really wanted to be a part of the excitement, but I knew that I could not possibly sit still long enough to watch. So what did I do? Multi-task! I think I learned it from my mother who watches tv, reads magazines and knits socks all at once. Often while carrying on a conversation as well. Infuriating.

But that's beside the point. America was making history last night and inbetween feeling shivers of excitement and actual PRIDE at being a citizen of the United States, I cooked. And now you can make history in YOUR kitchen as well.

I downloaded about five recipes yesterday since I've never made enchiladas before and true to form, I used parts of all of them to make mine, along with some sage advice from several friends who called along the way.

I poached the chicken in water and threw in some bouillon for a little extra flavor. I can't stand touching raw meat, so I buy it already cut for stirfry and plop it in there. No touching required.
And since some of the recipes called for cream cheese and some called for refried beans, I thought I'd use a little of both. Unbeknownst to me, these refried beans had jalapenos in them. I didn't notice until I tasted it and then looked at the can. Seemed okay to me. I just decided not to put in salsa because of it.

I spent the morning crying in therapy. I don't always do that. In fact, we laugh a lot more than anything anymore. I don't know what this is. The weather? My current circumstances in life? The anniversary of Jason's death looming in the near future? The holiday season coming up? Medication change? I'm not doing well. I miss him so much. The aching kind of miss. And I have no idea why now. Carolyn (my therapist) is trying to dig and poke at things to figure out why now and that prodding produces tears. The sobbing kind today.

She asked about Mr. Internet and how things are going and I say, "I think they're good. " And then I start tearing up and she says that if they were that good, I probably wouldn't be crying. You see, the last time Mr. Internet and I tried to spend the night together didn't go very well. I mean, that's part and parcel of figuring out how to be and compromise with someone new and it's not that big of a deal. Or so I tried to make myself believe. We cuddled for awhile and then he turned away and promptly fell asleep. I laid there and laid there and laid there. No sleep. Nothing. No matter what I did. So I tried cuddling up to him. And he wasn't interested. I tried again a couple hours later. Still not interested. It's not like he was pushing me away or anything, but I could tell he wasn't into it. And in the early morning, he says to me, "I'm a big cuddler, but I don't like to cuddle when I'm sleeping." Which is totally fair and I'm glad he told me and I asked him to hold me then. Which he did. And I promptly fell asleep. After hours and hours of agonizing insomnia.

Why? Because that's how I slept with Jason. Always entwined. Always. I felt safe in his arms. He felt safe in mine. No matter what the world had dished out for the day, there was safety there. I tried describing it to Carolyn - how that felt. That almost desperateness that came with holding one another. That's what produced sleep. That safe feeling. And Mr. Internet doesn't do that. And I don't know how to be with someone who doesn't sleep with me that way and it hurts my heart that in that instant I came to know how much I still miss Jason's presence in my life, much less my bed.

I have completed my duty to God and my country.

I voted. And I only had to wait in line for 15 minutes. Go vote!

Oh, and Therapy Tuesday sucked. And there were no "I voted" stickers. That sucked, too.

On Saturday morning, Mr. Internet called as I was headed to the 10 a.m. recovery meeting. The conversation went something like this.

Him: "I suppose you're headed to a meeting?"

Me: "Yep. What are you doing?"

Him: "Well, I'm doing some chores, paying bills and running some errands. Do you want to hang out and watch a movie or go for a walk at the park later?"

Me: (whoo hoo! Yippee!) "Sure. I'd like that. I'd really like that."

Him: "You want to come over about 12:30?"

Me: "Sure. That sounds great. See you then."

He calls at 12:35 because I'm five minutes late.

Him: "Are you coming?"

Me: "Yep, I'm about two blocks away."

Him: "Okay. See you in a few."

I get there and what do I find out? I'm the recipient of HIS booty call! Paybacks are a bitch. A fun bitch. And I watched an ENTIRE movie afterward. Iron Man. Fitting, no? Here's what I think is the funniest about the whole thing. He called me at 9:30 a.m. First thing on his mind.