Desire. Ask. Believe. Receive.

The mothering.com discussion board is down. Now how should I spend my workday?

I'm so tired of being in complete control of my body all the time. It's so exhausting. I'm constantly controlling the set of my jaw, the level of my gaze, the straightness of my shoulders, the sucked-in-ness of my stomach, the swing of my arms. Every bit of me is under constant self-scrutiny and control. Even when I'm dancing, maybe especially when I'm dancing, everything is just so controlled. I don't dance anymore unless it's to a steady 4/4 hip-hop or dance beat and even when I'm totally wasted, I'm still in control, I'm just dancing a little sluttier. Like I said, it's just so exhausting.

I've been reading a new book called Sweat Your Prayers by Gabrielle Roth. She's the woman who developed the 5 rhythms theory of movement that I've been interested in but far too deeply scared to checkout for a few years now. She's really got me thinking about movement and the world and how I allow, or don't allow, myself to move through it. Part of her approach has to do with dancing, often, letting yourself go while paying close attention to exactly how your body is doing and how IT feels like dancing.

As I've mentioned, when it comes to dancing, especially in public, it's extremely rare that I'm not doing something sexy; either hip-hop stuff or something Latin, it's always got hips and it's usually more for the benefit of others than it is for myself. This book has really got me thinking about movement and all the different ways of moving to music, many of which are entirely NOT sexy. It's really quite liberating, like I'm hearing music for the first time. Driving home from work yesterday I kept the radio on one station, one that I normally wouldn't bother with, and listened deeply to every song, especially the ones that I was most inclined to skip. I thought about ways to dance to each individual song and visualized myself doing it.

It was amazing! I couldn't wait to get home and dance. I couldn't wait to get home and let my body express something, anything, besides sexuality. I felt like a kid who had been given permission to skip school and run wild all day. It was so exciting. I'm still kind of riding it. I hate that I'm stuck here at work today--I really just want to be home dancing and cuddling with Suzie.

So I've got this, I don't know, I guess you really couldn't call him more than a social aquaintence, who recently send me a friend request on myspace. I've seen him at social gatherings and parties for a good 10 years but I can't say I've ever really had a conversation with him beyond the basic small talk. Over the years I've gotten the sense that he's one of those semi-depressed guys with low self esteem who's developed some anger towards women probably because he wasn't treated very well by them during his adolesence, his teenage years, and likely into his early adulthood. Who knows, he still may not be treated well by them, but this is all speculation, I truly have no real idea of his history or current situation.

Anyway, I was reading through many of my myspace friends' blogs today and came across his for the first time. There are quite a few "nobody likes me, EVERYBODY hates me" posts and then a couple of pretty disturbing entries that read as a list of the violence and degradation that he feels compelled to bestow on some unfortunate woman who made the mistake of not being able to love him in the way that he needs to be loved. I am absolutely livid right now. Who the fuck does this guy think he is to threaten to rape a woman because she isn't strong enough to handle his many emotional needs?!? Granted, I don't know this guy well and I don't know his situation, but still, he's repeatedly talking about killing, raping, and hurting an unnamed woman and about his need to do this based on his own sorrow and self-proclaimed self-pity.

That aside, I FUCKING HATE IT when people talk about "everybody" hating them. It's so self-centered and meglomaniacal. I mean honestly, most people, well aside from the woman he's threatening to rape and kill, her family and probably her friends DON'T hate this guy; most people just don't care; which I suppose to a narcicist is the same as hate. But whatever, I'm pretty sure this guy isn't sitting around, feeling concern for me and my family all the time. I'm pretty sure my well being isn't at the fore of his conciousness. I don't think he's sitting around pondering "hmmm, I wonder if Jane had a tough night with Suzie last night. I wonder if she was up all night and didn't sleep because her little one was sick and puking. Hmmm, I feel a deep compassion for her today." No, he's not, and THAT'S FINE! I don't expect him to be thinking of me, I don't expect most people to be thinking of me all the time, just as I'm not thinking of them.

I'm just living man. L-I-V-I-N. Just like we all are. Most of us are spending our lives taking care of ourselves and our families and our loved ones with not a lot of extra time left over to sit and think about some random man in some random city and how he can't get over his past and have a nice relationship with a woman. And most of us certainly aren't spending any energy hating him. He just doesn't matter. I know that sounds harsh but my god, it's no more harsh than wishing death on people for being too busy to act as your personal therapist.

Ok, this has spiraled into something I wasn't really going for.

I should work.

breaking it down, old-school feminist style.

I decided to start taking Wellbutrin a couple of weeks ago and this seems to be my only side effect. I'm really not noticing any difference in my affect or sex drive; I still feel just a notch above flat. The first week I felt pretty good, but that may have been hormonal or just in my head, I even had the briefest inkling of an interest in sex one morning, but that was it. As it is now any increase in interest would be completely washed by the nausea. Bummer. Totally. It's only been a week and a half though and I've committed to trying for three weeks. My doctor says that the pukiness usually goes away after two weeks so I'm going to play it by ear for another week and a half. Then I just don't know. I'm pretty bummed out about it though, after years of fruitless soul-searching and therapy I was really looking forward to a quick-fix, pharmaceutical cure.

My girl's been been pretty much amazing for the past two weeks. She started talking this past weekend and the words have been just tumbling out pretty randomly. "Read. Cheese. Ankle" It's so freakin cute. She's also been sleeping and eating a ton. Last night she slept for 11 1/2 hours and that's following a two and a half hour nap in the afternoon. It's nice though, a well rested mama who's had a little time to read a good book is a happy mama.

I'm beginning to plan a trip to Italy for my mom and me next year. I'm never as happy as when I'm planning a trip so that's a good thing. Italy isn't my first choice for a vacation destination, I mean it's kind of 1997, but she's never been there and vacationing with my mom can be a little stressful so visiting someplace that affords some level of comfort will probably be good. Ideally she'll hang with me for a week and then John and Suzie can come over and spend the following week with me. We'll see how Suzie's doing at that point, she'll be almost three and I have no idea what that will look like. We'd first discussed me spending a week with my mom and then her going home, Suzie staying with her and John coming to stay a week--I thought we could either go to Greece or spend some time in the Alps, but thinking a little more logically--leave Suzie for two weeks? I really don't think so.

More than a few, as of late, actually. "It's better to regret the things you have done than to regret those that you haven't," right? Isn't that what some wise person said in some college graduation speech? I've always really appreciated that sentiment and have chosen not to regret some/many of my choices and actions over the years that many would have and indeed have found unsavory, chalking them up to good learning and of getting me to where I am today--happy, educated, and with a perfect husband and child. But what of all the things I HAVEN'T done, what of those? I'm most definitely getting to some sort of early mid-life crisis, thinking about what my life is not and whether it's too late to get it to where I want.

I was reading a family letter from a set of John's extended relatives. Their daughter is 19 and attending Seton Hall, studying diplomacy, and spending her weekends exploring New York City and working as a debate team referee. I spent my 19th year studying what I had to in order to receive a positive evaluation, working as an office assistant, and boning as many people as possible--mostly under the influence of gallons upon gallons of Boone's Farm Sangria. And that, in sum, was the first three years of my undergraduate education.

By the time I was a senior I was a bit more focused. I was working through a graduate-level, very dynamic Psych program and getting things in order to attend a well-recognized graduate school. That's good and I'm proud of that, but where did it get me? I chose my course of study poorly. I did well in it and found good work in my field after receiving my master's, but again, what of it? It wasn't work I enjoyed doing or received any excitement from; here in the northwest a master's in Psych or Social Work is a dime a dozen. Having no interest in doing private practice or case management leaves me very few options for actually using my degree.

What if.

What if I'd chosen a "real" school. What if I'd left the state and put more effort into studying the hard sciences, or business, or I don't know, anything else really. I wouldn't have met John when I was 18. I wouldn't have had him to support me through learning so much more about who I am than I ever thought possible. I wouldn't have had my beautiful Suzie. But what would I have had instead? Maybe something just as good? Maybe my mind would have been stimulated enough that I wouldn't have had to fill my time with intoxicants and men? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I would have lived the same unhealthy lifestyle in some big city and gotten myself raped and killed. Of course it's all impossible to know and I've always been a big proponent of believing things happen for a reason, but still, I'm thinking a lot about that stuff these days. A lot about it, and I can't honestly say I have no regrets anymore.