Tag Archives: men

Saturday Morning

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A quiet moment at the end of the day, I had hoped for it to turn out differently.  I work up happy and well rested.  I knock out a few chores and made some delicious coffee and then sat down to enjoy some quiet, alone time with a book.  I am re-reading a book on nutrition and working on revamping my food plan.  Now that I’ve kept to my New Year resolution of quitting chocolate – I am ready to move on to phase 2.

I leisurely let the cats out of the apartment to have their morning romp and sat back down to slurp my joe.  Settled back in and comfortable, there is a knock at the door.  I get up, thinking that someone had found one of the cats.  And I open the door and there is a father and his cute three year old daughter and another older man.

They start asking me about religion.  Do I know about it?  Am I a believer?  Nope.  An atheist?  Nope.  (I used to identify as an atheist but now I don’t.  I just don’t really want to be in a category.  I am not into the statements or stigmas that each label implies.  Don’t put me in a box.   It makes me uncomfortable and itchy.)

The little girl was so cute and they were so nice.  I invited them in.  I opened a tub and pulled out my collection of plush finger puppets and she was playing with tiny fish and squid finger puppets and laughing.  The adults spoke about the scriptures, they asked me if I had read them and I said yes.  I told them some of my experience with religion and they looked uncomfortable.  I made some gestures, with some of my many finger puppets on my hand.  Might have made it more surreal.

We talked about interpretation about the scripture, they said they just could.  And so I asked them about how they can be sure that the scripture they are reading is god’s word.  Since there were so many books that weren’t included in the Bible or are in some versions of the Bible that aren’t in others.  Because as the Christians wanted to get more coverts they started to add books that were canonized and talked more about Jesus’s interaction with the sinners and the gentiles so that outsiders could be welcome.  With word that could be divinely inspired, then being repeatedly transcribed and then filtered depending on the survival/recruitment needs of the church in the year 367.

I was trying to be nice.  But then he got angry when I said I was excited about the book of Judas being preserved and restored.  Because I think Judas made the greatest sacrifice.  That really upset him.  We tried to get nice and he pulled out this Jesus menu and asked if any of these questions had ever upset me.  And I knew his answers for them and the sales technique he was using.  The older man said we’re not trying to sell anything; I looked up at him and said, really?

I said that I was starting to get triggered.  I didn’t want their god or their book.  And the tears started to pour out of my face.  So embarrassing.  I thanked them for the polite conversation, but asked them to leave.  The tiny little girl took the finger puppets off and gave me a hug.

They left.  E was woken up by the raised voices during the Judas conversation.  I grabbed my coffee.  E has spent the last 4 days with both hands painfully swollen and in an amazing amount of pain from the constant unpacking.  He’s been mostly in bed ice packing his hands.  His pain has been pretty intolerable, but that’s one of the prices you pay for being in three combat zones.  Your 20 year old body writes checks that your body has to cash forever.

They might as well have been selling crack door to door.  This is my addiction, trying to be understood by Christians.  This is where I am developmentally stuck and I don’t know where I thought I was going to get this morning.

I just wanted a nice morning: coffee, a book, smooching my hot fiancé.  But I let my ptsd in, invited it in.  When E asked me why, I just cried and said “they had a little girl”.  Part of me also thought it would be funny, but that humor isn’t for me anymore.  It’s far too expensive in my heart and mind.

For the team

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This job was a good and a hard experience.  I’ve been wondering why I put up with sexual harrassment.  First it was a whistle in the hall.  Then it was winking.  Then he paced outside my office a couple times trying to get eye contact-which I refused to give him.  Then the last time in the coffee room, I was standing next to the coffee maker and he wanted next to the creamer and he (I guess) shimmied me out of the way. But it was a full body side contact that was excruciatingly uncomfortable.

I confronted him a million times in my head, actually I did every morning on my drive to work.  I thought about how I would say it.  I didn’t feel like I could go to my boss without confronting him first, because I’m a “big girl” and I should be able to fight my own fights.

The other problem was logistical.  We rarely ran into each other.  So, I would be ready, and then ready, and then ready and then finally relax and then he would be there.  Since it was both of our jobs to be out of the office pretty much, we rarely crossed paths so when we did it was an issue.  You just couldn’t time it.

I was retisent to confront because at every corporate job I have ever had, I have dealt with sexual harrassment.  And since I am obviously the common denominator, I wanted to know if there was something in me that attracted this.  But, should I start lopping off parts of my personality?

Last night, I was thinking about it and there were like 40 guys there and three women.  The guys had this great comaraderie.  I didn’t want to spoil it.  I knew that if I told that it would be a big deal, there would be paperwork and drama.  And I didn’t want to be the new girl who changes the culture.  The feminist in me was having a rally and trying to burn my own bra in protest, it was itchy.

I thought about all the women empowerment speeches I’ve given and I felt really ashamed.  I sure feel powerful when I have a microphone, where is my voice without one?

I realized how much I had emotionally invested in keeping the peace amomg the men-folk, at my own risk.  I realized how much punishment I still take (self imposed) to keep peace, even when there shouldn’t be peace.

There shouldn’t have been peace.  I didn’t need to get bothered at work because I’m female and then not talk about it and be nervous and hypervigilant about it because I’m me.

Next time, and I’m sure there will be a next time.  I’ll just try to tell the truth.  But the truth makes me wanna hurl, I’d rather just take the cathartic beating and get the confrontation over with.

yesterday

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OK: Here’s the lead up…

Therapy: I was seeing a therapist and she was ok.  But I was about to get insurance in 2 months through my work.  I didn’t want to bond with her.  I asked her to refer me to a therapist in the same program who took my future insurance so that when the insurance came we could transition.  This took forever, and then the New Year turned and I wasn’t reenrolled in the program.  Now I have no therapist and don’t qualify for the program.

Work:  This has been a terrible sales month.  In fact, last month was awesome.  This month terrible for everybody.  I was also working through a sickness for two weeks.  This shouldn’t make me worry, but this month is the end of my three month probation.  And I am ill at ease.  So my hypervigilance, paranoia, the whole ptsd package has been kicking in.  And without therapy to balance it, it’s been even worse.  Pretending not to be a crazy person at work has been excruciatingly exhausting.

Also, a coworker has taken to whistling, winking and now there’s been a rubbing incident that I need to deal with.  I wasn’t in the mood for sexual harassment.  That is one of the main reasons I became self employed.

My boss wanted me to revisit the church industry project and since I’m a pussy, I said yes.  I tried.  But that really led me to sitting in the car for two hours crying.  My job was to walk into a church and say hi.  I couldn’t move and I couldn’t get out.  I was just so terrified of who was behind that door.  I was terrified of the list of 30 more churches I had to see that week.

I was supposed to meet up with my boss to do a few together, but when we communicated it was obvious I was crying in the field (how embarrassing).  So I was sent home to “take care of myself”.

I wonder if I still have a job.

I wonder if I should have a job.

I wonder if I can have a job.

I sure need revenue.

But I can’t have a job right now where I am social every day.

I don’t know what to do.

I’m so angry, because it wasn’t too long ago when I had my business and I could do anything and everything, or so if felt.  But I really think I could hide a lot of this stuff because we were creating our own reality.

I have noticed a lot of entrepreneurs are survivors of trauma as well.  Maybe being the master of our own reality is how we coped.

Biggest Joy

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There is a man whom I have known for 20 years now.  He’s a brother of mine.  Yesterday I found out that the thing he’s always wanted is happening and I feel the biggest joy.  I am so overwhelmed with complete happiness that he’s going to be a father.  This person, this man, this brother is one of my few soul mates in the world and the last few years have been hard for us.  But underlying the pain of the last few years and the trials in our relationship, I’ve known that it’s us, and we’re going to be ok.

But this is so amazing; I am excited for the child that gets to be his.  This child has been wanted for so long.  He’s got the right girl and they are going to have a baby and I am so very excited.

It’s finally his turn.  I remember when I was about to give a speech in front of hundreds of people and it was my first time and I was accepting a big business award.  I told him that we didn’t deserve it anymore than anyone else in the audience.  He said, “Of course we don’t.  Fuck ‘Deserve’, it doesn’t exist.  It’s just our turn.  So go make the most of it.”

And if I was there I know we would laugh and cry and dance and I would wrap my arms around you, because this is worth celebrating so big.  Congratulations honey!  I love you so much!!

Confronting Sexism in the family

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Gender is a funny thing, kids get conditioned about what girls are “capable of” and what boys are “capable of” so early.  They are put in their tiny boxes and then many of these people after they have been conditioned spend their lives trying to bust out of these boxes.  Some are harmed by people who don’t even know that they are in a box, but the box people are angry that you aren’t in your place.  Get in your box!!!

My 6 year old nephew is one of my favorite people in the world.  In many ways he is the embodyment of my inner child.  This kid is nuts.  This kid is perfect.  He told me that girls can be ninjas.  I said that’s awesome!

In my brain, I saw a potential teaching moment… It was like “The more you know” rainbow streaked across my brain.  And I thought since we were talking about girl ninjas and normally that is a male dominated industry I thought (in my brilliance) to ask him.  “Is there anything a girl can’t be?”

He seriously puzzled till his puzzler was sore.

Yes, he finally answered.

I was surprised, and fully ready to explain gender equality, etc.

“What?” I asked.

“Vampires.  Girls can’t be vampires.”

“Why can’t girls be vampires?”

“Cause they don’t exists, Suzi, duh.

pwnd. Sometimes you can expect something so much that you ignore the obvious.  Girls can be anything in the world except something that doesn’t exsist.  DUH.

“You Are Nothing?”

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I was once told by my friend Dr. Dar that I was a Spiritual Warrior.  I know that I have an energy that attracts spiritual confrontation and won’t step down from a challenge.  I am grateful that I was able to stay within good boundaries at the challenge issued last night in my place of work.

I am working on the church industry project and yes after last night I have to get out.  My boundaries are far too fluffy and the water cooler chat is too volatile with this project.  If I am asked what’s up and I respond.  I will get triggered.  Nobody is trying to do this to me, except there are jokes and other egos at play and when you work with jokesters who shouldn’t know that you are a trauma landmine…..

me:  I got hung up on by 3 Baptist churches and yelled at by a Hindu priest today.
him:  Wow that says a lot about Hindus…
(boggle)
me:  What about Baptists?
him:  Well Baptists are just like that.
(And that’s a Bible Belt joke, I don’t get it.  But it means he’s not a Baptist.)
me:  Well there was a huge language barrier with the Hindu priest and they were frustrated and I called the Temple not the office.
(he stares at me)
him:  Well, I’ve never gotten a response like that.  We’re you (silence) you know….
me:  no, I don’t know.
him:  You know…
me:  What?
him: come on…
me:  Female?  Red headed? what? I can’t know unless you finish your sentence.
him:  no
me:  hmmmmmm
(and I realize that he always does this and let’s people finish sentences, leaving him off the hook, kind of.  I am fascinated and I don’t want to play mad libs anymore.)
him:  cordial
me:  oh, sure. I was super nice.  Is that a concern for you?  I know that I can be direct and I don’t know if that comes across abrasively in the Southern culture.  Do you think I’m abrasive?
him:  oh no.
me:  oh good.
him:  Are you (and he waves his arm)
me:  what
him:  Are you??? (waves, trying to reel words from my face)
me:  I don’t know, what?
(coworkers are peeking out of their offices)
him:  Christian?
me:  Oh no.  I’m not.
him:  Catholic
me:  nope
him:  Jewish?
me:  no
him:  anything??
me:  what?
him:  oooh Baptist?
me:  No
him:  What, you’re nothing!?!
me:  I am not nothing, I am standing here right now
him: you know what I mean (waves arm)
me:  I truly don’t

I am glad the conversation had witnesses.  Do I have to learn how to shut up?  Shutting up makes me sick.

base

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My oldest nephew has reminded me about “base”.  Nothing can get you at “base”.  Base is perhaps the most important thing.  And I’m really glad that in play, kids have something to run to where all of the scariness stops and they are control.  When they are on base, they stop the world and process the chase, the overstimulation of the craziness and then when its time to go again they re-enter the game.

The sufferer of ptsd (I’m trying not to capitalize it, I think that’s great advice.  Thanks, A!) frequently feels chased.  I’ve got a thing or twelve on my emotional plate right now.  I have about 4 family relationships I am working on right now.  We still don’t have our stuff from the pirates and that is winding down, I hope we may have our stuff by Christmas.  My new job is great and not easy.

E and I continually work to connect to be “base”.  It is so good.  It’s really hard right now.  The pirates have our bed.  This weekend in a hotel was the first time we’ve slept together in a bed since 9/25.  And we are working so hard to keep our emotional connection sweet.  I’m really lucky, because the air mattresses and other sleeping arrangements have led us both to a lot of back pain through this ordeal and it’s not getting us down.  We’re just taking care of each other.

After a really hard week, A texts me….  She simply says, “I bet you look beautiful and your hair smells like strawberries”.   I laugh because she was close, 3000 miles away and my hair smelled like pumpkins.  My best friend is the master of sweet understatement, she can say better in 9 words what I was trying to tell you in 1,200.  And she smells like caramel, but she doesn’t have to put stuff in her hair to create a scent like I do.  A is “base”.  A is bass to my melody.

I am “base”.  I keep the motion and the flow in my life.  I swim the channel of shadows toward the light.  I love and forgive and connect and sting when I harm people and get pissed off when I have to do the right things and it’s hard.  I try to stop when I can’t and I try to go when I should.  And I learn from my little wild guru nephew about base and safe and stop.

Spiritual Self Abuse?

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A lot of veterans with PTSD can’t stop watching war movies.  It is very common for people with PTSD to have trouble avoiding media that involves the subject of their trauma.  If I see a documentary on cults or religion or bible history, I will watch it obsessively.  I can’t watch movies like “Passion of the Christ” because I can’t watch violence without becoming seriously upset inside for hours.  So, I generally stick to documentaries, etc.

This is compulsive behavior for me, and since I got dealt OCD from my PTSD and have been living in a lot of stress with a new job and no stuff…  It’s been acting up.  Like my eating disorder and trichotillomania (2 not 1 for those keeping track at home) have been acting up.  I’ve been really angry for this mess of wiring in my head, and I’m still hunting for a good fit in a therapist.

“Well, you’re in the Bible belt”, is something I hear a lot at work.  And I need to learn to not let my compulsions out of my mouth via words at work.  Because one of the most successful industries here is the “church industry”, and I have been tasked with a project involving the “church industry”.  I could have turned it down in the beginning, but I didn’t want to and I was so intrigued.  But it would have been the most self-loving thing to do.

While working on this project, it’s brought a lot of churchy energy around me.  People see me working with media and iconography.  I am really into it, because I am marketing to churches and I can’t wait to see if it works.  I am so fascinated by this challenge, you know and nauseated.  People come into my work space and talk and then they talk to me about their faith.  I should probably put up some kind of boundary, but I don’t because I am sickly fascinated by how every one of them has translated and integrated a book differently.  It’s so interesting.

Yesterday was a hard day though.  I got whistled at in the hall.  I believe this was meant as a compliment.  I almost lost my shit.  To me it feels like.  Don’t forget that someone is always watching you.  Even when you think you are alone in a hallway, someone is watching you and sexualizing you.  Don’t forget you are never safe.  I told my coworker and he said that was an awesome compliment and he wishes he would get whistled at.  So that sucked.  Yesterday when this coworker said, “well you’re in the Bible belt…”  I told him that I never wanted suspenders so bad.

Then when wrapping up phase 1 of my project (yay I get a break!!!).  Someone was talking to me about their beliefs and it was ok.  He’s an animated talker.  I was sitting, he was standing.  He was talking about how people think that god the father will punish us forever in hell.  Then he said, “would a father punish a child forever?”  When he said that he was moving his arm for dramatic effect, his arm was over my head and I was looking up.  This had the effect of making me very small feeling.  His arm was coming down repeatedly (like ten times) and his hand was in the exactly grip that Pastor’s was when he was holding the PVC pipe.

I didn’t cry.

I talked to him about his loving views.  He smiled and went away.  Defense systems passed the test and all was well.  I came home about 5 hours later and lost my shit.  It was a bad day at work.  I didn’t want to go to bed, because we can’t sleep together and I really wanted to snuggle up.  So I’m up after 4.5 hours sleep ready to bang out the last day of the work week.  Tired, fragile.

good ol boys

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The South is fantastic and weird.  It is so beautiful here.  I work with about 38 guys and two other girls.  I am very grateful that my experience has trained me for environments like this.  Especially since my professional environments have been high in vitamin estrogen since I left corporate IT.

It’s interesting to talk to the other two women, they are at that place where they don’t know if they can trust women in the workplace.  I am modeling trustworthiness to them.  I am modeling good will, because I remember when I was there.

I have been confronted toe to toe about my knowledge and experience by the alpha male, in public.  I think he regrets that.  He thought this California girl would be a push over.  He thought that having his guys around would intimidate me.  But I am so grateful for my experience in public confrontation (thanks cult!!).  In public speaking, in business, in everything.  I had one hell of a tit for his tat.  And he has 20 years of experience in this technical industry, but when I pulled my 16 years of technical experience together and shot back.  His guys started to back down and walk away. Hit the bully once, big, publicly and with humor not anger (like he had).  Now he minds his own business and I got cred.

I wasn’t going to come out as bisexual because I am trying to practice personal boundaries and I didn’t want people all up in my business.  And I didn’t want the whispers and chortling of being a bi-chick among dudes.  I didn’t want that to be the only thing they remembered about me.  I at least wanted my 90 day probation to be overwith.  But I messed up the “pronoun game”.  And said she when talking about my ex, instead of letting them assume he.  It was only in front of my manager.  After that he had a vacation planned and he came back and it’s not an issue.  Except that he told me he’s too ugly to be gay.

Politically correct doesn’t really happen here and that is actually extremely refreshing to me.  Because they don’t care if you walk away if you don’t want to hear it.  And I do feel perfectly comfortable walking away.  I love that they’ve only known me at this age.  Everyone else has known me as a younger me, and people don’t see me as especially  young here.  That’s really liberating.

Everyone is mostly awesome and sweet.  Lots of Southern charm.  I love it.

an engaging tale

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07/30/11

When we were saving up for our relocation to North Carolina, I was working 2.5 gigs.  I only had one day off a week.  We wanted to have one last weekend in San Francisco because we love that town.  E was planning it and he asked me if there was anything I wanted to do in San Francisco that I haven’t done yet.  I wanted to see the buffalo.

Hotel Bijou

Hotel Bijou

He booked us a gorgeous room at Hotel Bijou!  Each room is named after a film that was shot or set in San Francisco.  Our room was “The Competition”.

 

And we went out to go see the bison at the park.  We walked and held hands.  I was expecting a thundering herd of 40 bison, as well as a cowboy playing harmonica.  That didn’t happen.  There were three very sleepy bison shaped logs.  One rolled over, so we are almost certain that there were three bison.

Golden Gate Bison

Click this for their frickin Yelp review

 

The park was all abuzz with getting ready for a marathon the next day; we drove through the winding streets.  It was so gorgeous; we jumped out and looked around a pond with a waterfall.  I think we frolicked, we definitely engaged in conviviality and hijinks.

Good for frolicking

Good for frolicking

 

The weather was perfect.  We decided to go to the redwood grove.  As soon as we walked into the grove there was a hush, it was like entering the most sacred space.  The energy was pure and we walked in silence.  I tingled.  We weaved through it, exploring separately and together.  I breathed in the trees.

 

Then we were looking for the perfect space.  I had a feeling it was coming, but I didn’t want to count on it and be disappointed or jump the gun and wreck it.

Cathedral or family groups of trees are simply trees that have grown up from the living remains of the stump of a fallen redwood, and since they grew out of the perimeter, they are organized in a circle. If you looked at the genetic information in a cell of each of these trees, you would find that they were identical to each other and to the stump they sprang from. They are clones! The only cathedral I’ll ever need.

We found this gorgeous curvy log, all the bark was gone and it was smooth.  From one side it looked like a beautiful pregnant woman.  Then we noticed it kind of looked like that from the other side too.  So we perched on the smooth, freaky double-pregnant log lady and snuggled up and kissed and said very nice things about each other to each other, loving each other like we do.  It was smooth and slick from the mist and I gracefully fell off the log and onto my ass on the dirt.  I got back on the log, very um, romantically.

I found that if I straddled a woody knob that I could gracefully stay on the alien lady log.  After laughing, we sat their silently.  A wind made my hat fly off into the path.  “REALLY” I said to myself…

E started to play around with something behind me.  I felt that it was time to make small talk so that he couldn’t tell that I could tell he was playing with something behind my butt.  I couldn’t really help but look and see what was going on so I started to turn around and he kissed me.  I leaned into him and then I tried to peek and he kissed me.  So, we went back to small talk and odd fiddling.

Then I heard Gene Kelly sing…  Singin’ in the Rain is our favorite movie and the first thing we found out that we had in common about 12 years ago.  He had been trying to get youtube on his phone through the fog and the trees and he had been buffering…

You Were Meant For Me on YouTube

I was so touched, I started crying immediately.  When the video paused, I said.  “I get it”.  We sang it to each other.  When we were almost done, the buffering ended and the video started again-interrupting us.  He stopped it.  We kissed through my tears.

He pulled out a ring that had a blue topaz as the main stone.  A stone that he had bought at an antique fair in Santa Cruz a year ago.  And he said, “You know, Suzi.  If you put this ring on it means that you want to be my wife.  Do you want to put the ring on?  Suzi, will you marry me?”  I said yes!  Then I had him ask me a few more times and slip the ring on a couple more times for fun.  We kissed a million more times.

Cliff House

Cliff House

We remained there for a while and then decided to go to dinner to celebrate.  I couldn’t drive because I was too mesmerized by my sparkly finger.

I walked up to the hostess and she asked for a name.  I said “Future Mrs. #######, Party of 2″!  She said, “Oh girl, let me see the ring!”

The dinner was amazing, the night was amazing.  The night at the room was not a competition, but a collaboration.  And all feels amazing in my soul and just as it should be.  This is my one.