In Which I Take A Lonely Walk

I'm proud of her, that Fourth Grader Of Mine!  She's so grown up and mature. 

I am proud, but, UGH, it was a sock in the stomach to be left standing on the sidewalk in front of the school, alone, as she walked toward the stairs to the school.

Conversation just prior, as we clutched hands:

Me:  Nervous?

Eldest:  Yeah, a little.

M:  You'll do great.  Do you remember where your classroom is?

E: Yes.  *she points to the general vicinity*

We stop walking and wait for the bell to ring.  A PTA mom is screaming that there are "Welcome Back To School" doughnuts.  (Really?  And we wonder why our kids are facing obesity as the #1 epidemic these days?!  Can you get grapes, bananas, apple slices and such?!) 

My Eldest starts looking around, stepping up on tippy toes to see if she sees friends.  I people-watch.

She breaks hands with me.

E:  You don't have to take me in, mama.

THERE.  That's when the sock in the gut came.

M:  *puts on my bravegirl face & plugs in the strongmom voice*  You sure?  I don't mind....

E:  Yes, mama.  I'm sure. 

She offers me a kiss and a hug and goes toward the front of the school and gets lost in the crowd. 

I linger, of course, perching myself up higher on a set of stairs so I can watch her.  I lose her, then find her, lose her, then find her.  The bell rings and I see her bouncing up the stairs with a friend of hers.  She didn't look back. 

So, it was a lonely walk back to my car, and yeah, I cried a little, but mostly happy tears. 

Seven

Favorite Words: Vellicate

From dictionary dot come: 

vellicate\ VEL-i-keyt \ , verb;

•  To touch (a body part) lightly so as to excite the surface nerves and cause uneasiness, laughter, or spasmodic movements.
• To irritate as if by a nip, pinch, or tear.
• To move with spasmodic convulsions.

How FUN is this word?!  Who even knew there was one single word for this action?!  Wowee!  I'm in love with it!   (And if you already knew it, hats off!  I'm in love with you now, too!  *laughing*)

Core Fear

It's no secret I'm in therapy.  Nor should it be.  And I admit to needing a lot of it.  *laughing*  I don't understand why human beings consider therapy a pejorative.  There seems to be a shame attached to being in humility to search for the best person a person can be.  Asinine!  Why do we suppose that weshouldknowhowtodoeverythingallthetime?  That's pretty arrogant -- or ignorant -- not sure which.  In any case, don't knock it for yourself or others around you.  It's a gift to yourself & your relationships (& to God). 

A few months ago, My Husband and I attended a marriage retreat.  The retreat was an immersion in the Imago style of, well, love expression.  I'm sure there's some technical psychological terminology for it, but basically, it was further instruction on how to love consciously.

In the course of that weekend, I learned what MY core fear is.  It's being invisible. 

I have an immense fear of not being seen.

So, I act in ways that make me seen.  And these ways are not always healthy.  Sometimes they are of the flesh and not the spirit.

Identifying this Core Fear has been liberating and burdensome at the same time.  I now understand why I behave and feel the way I do.  I understand better why I have the intense, extreme emotional reactions I do.  I now know why I'm fairly good and expressing myself using the written word instead of the spoken word.

I'm learning to speak the words more, and speak them in a more constructive way - in a loving way.  It's probably the hardest growth experience I've ever endured.  Being almost 40, it's frightening.  Funny how the longer I live life, the more fears I develop.  Not only do I develop more of them, but the ones I previously had are bigger and badder and stronger. 

I hate living in fear.  I hatehateHATE it!

Had I learned this stuff back in my 20's, I wonder what heartache might've not existed?  But, because I'm a believer in TTP (Trust the Process), I know that I had to go through those things of the 20's to appreciate and grow into the woman I am, (who, despite my fears, is a pretty kickass chick!).  I haven't graduated, nor ever will I; but I will progress and learn.  God willing, I'll teach when given the chance and the inclination.

If you've taken a moment of your precious time to read this far, thank you.  This post was mostly for me, though.  I needed to acknowledge in writing that I have a Core Fear, and call it by name:  BEING INVISIBLE. 

But now that I have your attention, I gotta ask:  Do you know yours?

Comets

I'm addressing an envelope this morning to the University of Texas at Dallas - Home of the Fighting Comets.  (Huh?  COMETS? Yes....the Comet is the mascot there.  Tell you a thing or seven about the school?)  Anyway, its contents will be the various transcripts from the many colleges I've previously attended.  I'm applying there so I can finally finish my undergraduate degree.  My goal is to start in Spring, 2011.

As I'm writing the address, I felt my chest tighten and butterflies flurry in my belly. 

I came to blog about it because I must be experiencing some emotion that needs processing.  It's more than one emotion, actually.  And I process well by writing/typing. 

*deep breath*

I am astounded at the fear I feel.  Seriously?! WHY would I be AFRAID of finishing school?  Why am I feeling worried and frustrated already?  Why does anxiety overcome me at this moment?

I guess I'm afraid of not finishing - AGAIN.  I'm afraid of failing - AGAIN.  I'm afraid of disappointing - AGAIN.  I HAVE to get over that, though!  I! WILL! GET! OVER! IT!

Often, words like these are spoken out loud to me:  "You are so smart, Jackie.  Why aren't you a doctor or something?" or "You have no idea the potential you have.  Why aren't you doing more?"

These are meant to be words of encouragement.  They're meant to be a compliment.  And I'm learning to take them as such.  My Old Brain hears those words and I feel less than and disappointing.  My New Brain is trying to act on these instead of passively watch from the wall.  It's awkwardly saying:  get over it.  You're a big girl now.  Grow up and do what you want to do!  So...I'm applying for school.  And, dammit, I *will* graduate (before my kids do!).

It's the single biggest regret of my whole life -- not going away to university.  I tear up every time it's discussed or thought.  Even now, a tear stream is dragging through make-up.  Anyway, I always have regretted that I didn't take a bigger stand against my parents and leave for college.  I was so afraid of them.  Growing up in the military with fairly strict parents allowed me a nice yet sheltered life inside a pretty protective bubble. 

My Husband and some friends of mine know how sensitive I am about this subject.  They all assure the that a piece of paper doesn't define me.  Rationally, I know that's truth.

In high school, I was pretty active in the drama department (big surprise! *laughing*).  I was given the opportunity to go to a school in NYC (in fact, I might've previously written about this; sorry for the re-hash) to study theatrical arts.  The scholarship was mine -- a full one!  All I had to do was show up in Dallas and go through the motions of a cold read.  A trip to Dallas was denied.  Needless to say, my dreams were shattered.

When I graduated high school, all my closest friends left El Paso.  I was pretty sad about this.  Okay, I was downright despondent.  At the time, I didn't realize to what degree, but I can look back now and see it.  Don't get me wrong, I still had a couple of friends around (CDA!), and had some good times (toga!), bonded with them (lots!); yet, I wasn't out there...experiencing LIFE, experiencing the big football games with (if I didn't go to NYC, I wanted to go to UT Austin) and the all night studying, dorm life, being lost in a new city, rushing for a sorority, getting a little too drunk, coming home for the summer & holidays.  I saw myself as STUCK.  Stuck in El Paso, pouting, eating my way through depression, and longing for a life out there.

I don't blame my parents.  I can't be mad at them.  Neither of them completed college (my father evenutally got an Associates, but it was through the military, so not the same kind of college experience at all), and neither of them knew all the ins and outs of scholarship hunting, applying for financial aid, or visiting college campuses.  We didn't talk a lot, as I recall, about going to college.  I knew the expectation was that I'd go, but beyond that, no memory.  I suspect they took forgranted I'd do well since I was an honor student and always wanted to please.  High school subjects came fairly easily (except for math).  My parents decided that going to UTEP was good enough, they could afford the difference of what scholarships didn't cover and my brother went there, too, so why not me?  It makes sense.  There might've been some other reasons unbeknowst to me, and it's best if indeed those reasons are real, that they stay in the quiet, dark past.

So, here I sit, over 20 years later, still no undergraduate degree.  I have enough hours for two full undergraduate degrees and then some, yet nothing to show for it.  I abhor the red tape that goes along with the college application process.  It requires much patience and clear-thinking, neither of which I possess.  I pray for both patience & clear-headedness so endure the enrollment process...

The University of Texas at Dallas doesn't have a big football team, and I can't live at the dorms.  I won't be joining a sorority unless it's for academic excellence/field-of-study related.  My summers and holidays will be filled at home, but not with mom & dad.  Instead they'll be spent up the street a ways, where I'll continue with motherhood, wife-lihood, and all the rest of the -hoods I wear.  I will undoubtedly be studying late and long.  I might get a little too drunk sometimes, too.  Maybe once I graduate, those peripherals that come with this regret will have less sting.  If not -- give me another shot, bartender!

The envelope is addressed and it's poochie with academic-y papers.  Gonna go put it in the mailroom so I can get accepted, get advised and have something to look forward to come January....when I turn 40.  (If I don't get accepted, God help us all!)

Favorite Words: Reciprocate/Reciprocity

I'm going to take this one and go kinda wonky with it.  You've been warned.   

 

Reciprocate

–verb (used with object)

1. to give, feel, etc., in return.

2. to give and receive reciprocally; interchange: to reciprocate favors.

3. to cause to move alternately backward and forward.

 

–verb (used without object)

4. to make a return, as for something given.

5. to make interchange.

6. to be correspondent.

7. to move alternately backward and forward.

I also like 'reciprocity' (um...NOT the movie...*laughing*). 

Reciprocity

–noun

1. a reciprocal state or relation.

2. reciprocation; mutual exchange.

3. the relation or policy in commercial dealings between countries by which corresponding advantages or privileges are granted by each country to the citizens of the other.

 

There's something about giving back what you've been given, no?

I wouldn't say it's karma or the boomerang theory.  No.  Not at all.

I like the suggestion of equality in the definitions.  So much of my life, including now, I  have felt or sometimes feel somewhat squelched, behind, underrated, incredible, berated, overlooked, undermined, less equal than, invisible.  (Self-esteem issues, much?)  But by engaging in reciprocity, I have value.  I give value.  There's quality added to a relationship or function.  There's substance.  There's matter. 

I matter. 

I have substance. 

I am valuable. 

I exist. 

Now, it's my responsibility AND DESIRE, to make you feel the same way, too.

YOU matter (to me).

YOU have substance (to everyone).

YOU are valuable (to all the world).

YOU EXIST, TOO.

(SEE!  I told you I was gonna go all wonky with it!)

Something Different

This is running them in my life:  something different. Lot's of differences going on around me, and I'm doing my best to sit still as needed, or, alternately, remain fluid so as to be carried by the changes. 

With that, I'm changing the music again.  It's music reflecting a mood more than anything else.  Haven't listened too much to the words, but there are definitely images of escape, daydreams, gratitude, longing, and various others. 

~Whoosh!

I Think I Might Like Him After All....

It's a prayer or seventeen answered for sure.

I'm gonna like Father Alphonse.  A lotlot. 

Today, I was able to attend a Sunday Mass and witness ~ experience ~ Father Alphonse celebrating.  Favorite things right off the bat:

*  the hair.  WOW, he has GREAT hair
*  the glasses:  sharp, witty, trendy.  I hope this is a sign of his priesthood, too.
*  the delivery of the homily:  he came around from the Altar and stood among us.  I love a priest among the people
*  the humor:  verrrrry good sense of humor.  He relayed a funny anecdote about the heat that had all of us laughing hard enough to forget about the sweat dripping down our backs.
*  the homily itself:  great messages.  Today's special message:  Where your treasure is, so, too, is your heart.

After the heartbreak of losing Father Don and Father Louis, the gem sparkling today might be just the reminder I needed of where my treasure is.

Yoshi Is A Friend of Mine

...and he's going to give me shit about using 'Yoshi' because I've already told him in no uncertain terms that I don't like his nickname.  But, to preserve some confidentiality, I'm resorting to using it in my blog. 

A few days ago, he asked what my favorite word is. 

*blink*blink*
*think*think* 

Uhhhhhh.

*deer in the headlights look*

Yeah.  I couldn't answer it.  I don't think it's because I drew a blank.  I think it's because I've never been asked that before nor had I ever pondered it.  It was a great question and I left it unanswered.

Until today.

I then remembered I had a tag set up on here of "Favorite Words". 

So, I dug around a bit, read through the blogs and finalized my decision.  I followed up with an email to Yoshi notifying him of my current favorite all time word (until I learn new ones that might change my current favorite word).  I shared with him a few notions I have about words, why I'm attracted to them, and thanked him for prompting such thought.  The email didn't seem enough, so here I am, on The Big Blog, thanking Yoshi up and down and all around for a good question, being interested and resurrecting the Favorite Word series. 

I'll post one soon....  In the meantime, click the tag below if you're interested in reading the rest of the favorite words.

~Whoosh!

Funky Spunk

"Funky Spunk" is one of my favorite phrases.  It was on Sex And The City, said by Samantha when describing giving head to a guy, and when she swallowed, he had 'funky spunk'.  The grimace on her face combined with those two words relayed the experience very.... clearly.

But, I'm writing about a different context of funky spunk today, but the negative still kind of applies. 

I'm kind of a spunky person in the traditional definition -- or so I've been told.  I'm typically upbeat and positive, easy-breezy and light-hearted.  I get stressed, and then I freak out, then I'm good for a while.  Lately, though, I feel pretty blah -- I'm in a funk -- I'm feelin' funky, and by funky I don't mean nastysmellytasty or funkaaayyy as in gettin' mah groove-thang on.  I mean, I feel D~O~W~N.

This translates, in Jackies World, to some sort of change(s).  Centered in this storm is work.  Work's been incredibly stressful.  Admittedly, I'm pretty complacent there.  I remain challenged daily but am not an ambitious sort, so I don't overachieve or strive to be biggerbadderbetter.  I just do my stuff, call it a day, and leave.

Well, lately, there's been some reorganization.  The department I'm in is in flux, going through a growing pain of sorts.  Things got pretty tight and scary for a while, so, naturally, as human nature dictates, people have left for bigger and better things. 

Not me.

I remain unsettled in a place where for almost the last 10 years, I've been very stable.  I don't fear I'll lose my job (please, God), and I'm usually all about embracing change.  But, it must be the Aging Jackie that isn't taking these changes so easily.  I trust the process, like I always do, because I know that things will get better, I'll be a better employee, a better person.  Yet, my rationale isn't assuaging my emotionality about this.  Not yet anyway.  I still cry about some things.  I am still grieving some other things.  Yet, I'm there.  Trying.  Being.  Doing. Breathing. 

Interestingly, in the fallout (so to speak), some things are being said and done on the periphery.  I sense people saying, doing for me.  I sense people saying, doing with me.  I sense support and worry.  I know there's a worry that I'm going to leave, too.  I'm not going to conjecture on what the future holds.  For now, I'm taking the moment for NOW and trying NOT to focus on anything else.  Ordinarily, I'm so nice, I'd slay myself to the cause out of loyalty.  Opportunities are opening -- I hear a knock occasionally.  I answer the door.  I visit with Opportunity.  And listen. 

Listen.

This is what I need to do nowadays.  So, I will do just that -- listen.  (Maybe I'll go watch that episode of SATC to get a little laugh...IF I can sit still that long.)

~Trying really hard to be still~