Topsy Turvy - whining, bitching, moaning
Perhaps I shouldn’t take the time to write. My worklist is sincerely flowing off the charts today. But the thoughts are springing forth in my mind and I am afraid to wait, for fear they will all vanish. The group of people talking about LJ at rehearsals last night prompted me to put some stuff down in my LJ suddenly! Probably at the best time possible. You know - that time when everything feels fuzzy, life begins to feel topsy turvy, and the things you were clear about are beckoning once again to be re-evaluated - the time when a little introspection doesn’t harm the situation. Or does it?
Being a classic over-thinker, year in and year out, perhaps over thinking isn’t it. Certainly LJ land has been a great agent towards clarity for me at times. And now, it is most neglected for attention oriented info-bytes, catching attention for a mere moment and then passing along downwards in the stream of scrolling through facebook-land. No, it isn’t an indication of my feelings entirely, nor what is really going on in my life.
The things occurring in my life right now are all relatively glorious and brilliant. The kind of brilliant that I thought would never return to my living. Truly - most of them I couldn’t have dreamt up. The problem is less the beauty that lies around every waking corner for me (I acknowledge this in deep gratitude for all of it), but the essence of imbalance that is beginning to emerge for me.
I have committed myself towards giving a lot of stuff to my communities. In some places, I succeed more than others. The truth is, I haven’t been focusing on self care this year. And after 10 months of juggling teaching and working and loving and living - I am feeling the effects of that. I feel frazzled, confused, emotional, and unable to focus on anything. I feel like it is all spinning out of control, and I am not sure where my center is anymore. What is the most important? None of it. It’s all equally as high priority to me. For the first year in over 6 years, I have had the least consistent workout regimen. It’s an on again off again thing that normally doesn’t plague me. But let’s face it. I’m working two jobs. Even if passion is present in either position - they are still responsibilities that I value. This is not a complaint. I am all too expert at whining and moaning and bitching. Anyone who has to deal with me on a weekly basis beyond the surface level will see that in about two seconds. I enjoy whining and moaning and bitching.
I recognize if sometimes it’s self centered and trivial maybe?
Right now, I’m whining, bitching, moaning. I’m tired. Not physically? Maybe mentally tired in a way I’ve never been before. Because I can’t organize my life anymore.
Going home has drained me for a long time. In the last 2 - 3 years, my home has been a source of draining my vitality, rather than recharging it. It is messy, it is unmanageable to me, and it is one of my many bitch/moan topics.
Work on my primary relationship is another story. The schedule I keep, the priorities I toss around thoughtlessly - these have an impact on the story that is me and Jim. And I realize it is more driven by me than perhaps he. I am demanding, in such that my time is a premium and I treat his differently. “You are sitting around collecting dust in the house with the rest of our shit.”
That isn’t very kind. But I would be lying to say I don’t have that underlying feeling. When I being reasonable, I recognize that the activities I see aren’t that valuable, are a recharge for him. Our life together has been splendid, I do enjoy living and sharing our space together. I don’t enjoy our ability to steward over the beautiful townhouse. It is not beautiful to me because it is not taken care of the way I tend to take care of homes when I am living in them alone. I feel at ends to constant management of trying to get it where I want it - and having help doing so. I must become a better delegator. And even that is a stretch. The spinning, the flying out of control starts when I open my eyes and see my own room, and it expands to every step I take as I look around our home. It drains me unexplainably so. I have expressed this to him. He always has the same sunshiney view, the same “we can do this,” attitude, the same response every year.
Captain Sunshine. Always. To the point of blinding himself from reality.
“We’re working on it.”
We always say that, don’t we - and talk about improving when it just doesn’t seem to happen.
When will I feel we have arrived?!
Unreasonable moments have me blaming everything on him being in “MY” space (there isn’t such a thing.) I have since dissolved my temple into the new guest space. And never resurrected it because instead it was the place where all the “homeless things,” landed. So many homeless things in a home so large with so few people.
I hate the layout now. The layout I adored in 2008 has now come back to bite me.
Stacked, 3 floors of ill-managed zones that I feel I will suffocate under month after month. If I get one floor resolved, there is another. And if there are two - the third is always the “orphaned,” zone.
So the house is a thing unto itself. Right now, we are “working” on refinancing towards a lower interest rate. This is all self driven. Without me, he doesn’t sign a damn piece of paper. He wants me to read it all with him. I need to work more with him, admittedly. A part of me wants to yell and scream and say, “THESE ONES HAVE YOUR NAME ON IT. AND THE ONES IN MY FOLDER HAVE MY NAME ON THEM. We sign them how we sign them. Not rocket science, dumbfuck.”
But that’s rude. Instead I recognize it’s a rough thing. With so much to do. I’m so overwhelmed at managing my own financial shit, my Grandpa’s financial shit, the financial shit of a dead Grandma - it’s all over and I am doing a piss poor job of over spending and under managing my own and putting all the logic into someone else’s ledger.
I always had a rejection to my own success as to not want to even look at my money or spend it. Then last year I did something I had never done in my life. I began spending.
I spent my savings on teacher training. I refused to spend my 9 weeks pinching pennies so I allowed myself 9 weeks of letting go. And since then, I haven’t quite been right.
Now I am faced with a spendy ride (the car itself was a cost effective move) - but the transmission error it has thrown at me recently sort of stopped me momentarily in my tracks. I don’t want to drive it. I don’t want to do anything until I service the tranny.
The hydraulic line split from end to end. I can’t drop my top.
The two things combined stressed me out a little, to say the least. I am in love with the car for obvious reasons. I have treated it better than I treated any of my cars.
The teaching. I am so happy in Redmond it’s unreal. Still adjusting to the new studio. Not quite in sync with a set of new students yet, but getting there. People love me. I am working on my Dialogue. It’s an endless feat. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough. And then I hear people like my best friend Katty going on about being 99% verbatim. Bullshit.
There’s no way to daydream on a podium because I fiercely want to be better every class. I want all my students to get more out of the class and I want my own inadequacies to fade as they still somehow get their time and $$ worth. I am here to help you heal yourself. And the hallmark of accuracy is where it all starts. Spine Twist, Ardha-matsendrasana… Chest up, spine straight, rib cage more open. Look over your shoulder… twist and twist and twist, stretch up more… twisting and stretching your spine from coccyx to the neck, like a pearl necklace, exhale breathing and twist, last chance… twist…..
Tell me, you mighty perfect teachers, after a year only …… your spine twist is verbatim every time, tell me that. Everyone maybe, more perfect than me. That’s for damn sure. That’s how I was born. Set behind the world. Racing to get ahead. I look like I’m moving fast, but in the mirror it looks like paint drying. Some sloppy brush work and places with thin spots. You guys are just looking from 30 meters back.
My own Yoga practice is feels like an under-watered wilting, miserable, plant. My tech support, probably the same thing. Been doing that so long I can’t even begin to recognize what life is like without it. Except last year I was given a chance to see what that would look like. At the moment, that is not the option I am looking for.
My heart feels full and yet unattended. That’s my fault. I turn my back on myself, always focusing outward. I’m in a little deep, at the moment. There’s no insta-fix, like I am used to, towards this kind of in-attendance. I thought I wrote an “unattend” file, like installing windows with all those simple answers in a tiny text file ready to be called out in the background while I go off and work on the big stuff.
Guess what? I had a syntax error and it kinda stalled early on and now that I’ve been ignoring it, I’ve got to go back and work on that.
And it's going to take time.
It’s not a bad thing per se, but right now is when I came back to the console and realized it was happening! Whoa! Shit! Whoa Nelly! You were supposed to be finished! Oh, snap. A semi-colon where it shouldn’t have been!!!!
All the right questions, all the right answers, and something still a bit off. That’s what it is.
The kicking the stool right before my birthday kinda clinched it. It hurt like hell for 3 weeks, and FINALLY is beginning to feel normal. Ish. Kind of.
And so I can get back in the studio, look at myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s all going to be okay, that we can work through it all, that it’s all a piece of cake on the outside of the studio.
I miss teacher training where I got my practice… twice a day, no matter what. There was no choice in the matter. My medicine.
Now I skip my medicine every week. It’s not a good picture.
I teach when I would normally have practiced.
I love teaching. I need to keep teaching to stay sharp.
I need my practice also, to stay sharp.
There isn’t enough time or me to go around on that end. And there are other priorities too…….
And in the office, summer is passing and there is a fully loaded constant set of requests coming at me. Upgrades. Departmental moves. PC Help requests. My MEP isn’t even started and I need to do it in 2 months or else.
SHIT.
Truth is, I am reeling with everything going on around me.
Trying to learn to dance, to sing. I’m not a pretty singer. Dancing… I was never a flow yoga girl, first time it happened was for the audition. It felt amazing because someone helped me see my own potential and I understood I was graceful and beautiful in that piece. But with someone less natural at working with kids like me, I fight them, I fight myself, I fight. It’s not a natural birth of beauty. It’s choppy like the relationship, it’s raw and unrefined.
What a learning experience! Contrasts. It’s going to come together. But I don’t think it will be as good as it could be if there was someone how knew how to help me find myself and made minor adjustments that showed me that I really am beautiful. Strong. Capable.
Fortunately the more I progress in life, the more visible it is that I just have to break in and fuck up as many times as I need to find the grace. Some people are just better suited for getting people to do just that. Others … not so much. So we work with who we have, appreciate them for what they do have, and bury the sadness under fake smiles and effort to be the best to everyone.
I would cry about half of this, but the tears just stay stuck inside of me. Unsung stories.
Keep closing out requests, teaching classes, connecting with people, falling in love with people, over and over. It keeps it worth it. When I do not want to throw my hands up in exasperation and frustration, I am intensely in love with so many others. More yoga would resolve half of this. Except for my house. I just want to move out and leave all my crap with him. But you can’t escape some things. And He is the one who put up with my shit for years when I was literally at my worst. Now I glow, expand, grow. Now, I’m someone everyone can enjoy being around. He was there when I wasn’t so enjoyable.
He was there when I felt all alone. Except …he wasn’t there. He was working overnight at Target and I didn’t see him and I was all alone. What a paradox.
Point being, our challenges are normal in some aspects. We struggle with being too alike at times. We struggle with being too different at others. I mostly struggle with respecting him and his path. At the core, we’re intensely different creatures. I am always on the go, and am unhappy without that. I think he would be miserable with my “happy” parameters. I would express it a little more, except my brain is numbing and I have an appointment with a user shortly. Therefore, I wrap this up.
So much of what is happening is ultimately beautiful and worth while and wonderful and everything I wanted. So it makes me feel topsy turvy and confused. Especially when I realize there are things I just can't manage to fit in on top of all the other stuff, the confusion and the beautiful.
-Angela
Being a classic over-thinker, year in and year out, perhaps over thinking isn’t it. Certainly LJ land has been a great agent towards clarity for me at times. And now, it is most neglected for attention oriented info-bytes, catching attention for a mere moment and then passing along downwards in the stream of scrolling through facebook-land. No, it isn’t an indication of my feelings entirely, nor what is really going on in my life.
The things occurring in my life right now are all relatively glorious and brilliant. The kind of brilliant that I thought would never return to my living. Truly - most of them I couldn’t have dreamt up. The problem is less the beauty that lies around every waking corner for me (I acknowledge this in deep gratitude for all of it), but the essence of imbalance that is beginning to emerge for me.
I have committed myself towards giving a lot of stuff to my communities. In some places, I succeed more than others. The truth is, I haven’t been focusing on self care this year. And after 10 months of juggling teaching and working and loving and living - I am feeling the effects of that. I feel frazzled, confused, emotional, and unable to focus on anything. I feel like it is all spinning out of control, and I am not sure where my center is anymore. What is the most important? None of it. It’s all equally as high priority to me. For the first year in over 6 years, I have had the least consistent workout regimen. It’s an on again off again thing that normally doesn’t plague me. But let’s face it. I’m working two jobs. Even if passion is present in either position - they are still responsibilities that I value. This is not a complaint. I am all too expert at whining and moaning and bitching. Anyone who has to deal with me on a weekly basis beyond the surface level will see that in about two seconds. I enjoy whining and moaning and bitching.
I recognize if sometimes it’s self centered and trivial maybe?
Right now, I’m whining, bitching, moaning. I’m tired. Not physically? Maybe mentally tired in a way I’ve never been before. Because I can’t organize my life anymore.
Going home has drained me for a long time. In the last 2 - 3 years, my home has been a source of draining my vitality, rather than recharging it. It is messy, it is unmanageable to me, and it is one of my many bitch/moan topics.
Work on my primary relationship is another story. The schedule I keep, the priorities I toss around thoughtlessly - these have an impact on the story that is me and Jim. And I realize it is more driven by me than perhaps he. I am demanding, in such that my time is a premium and I treat his differently. “You are sitting around collecting dust in the house with the rest of our shit.”
That isn’t very kind. But I would be lying to say I don’t have that underlying feeling. When I being reasonable, I recognize that the activities I see aren’t that valuable, are a recharge for him. Our life together has been splendid, I do enjoy living and sharing our space together. I don’t enjoy our ability to steward over the beautiful townhouse. It is not beautiful to me because it is not taken care of the way I tend to take care of homes when I am living in them alone. I feel at ends to constant management of trying to get it where I want it - and having help doing so. I must become a better delegator. And even that is a stretch. The spinning, the flying out of control starts when I open my eyes and see my own room, and it expands to every step I take as I look around our home. It drains me unexplainably so. I have expressed this to him. He always has the same sunshiney view, the same “we can do this,” attitude, the same response every year.
Captain Sunshine. Always. To the point of blinding himself from reality.
“We’re working on it.”
We always say that, don’t we - and talk about improving when it just doesn’t seem to happen.
When will I feel we have arrived?!
Unreasonable moments have me blaming everything on him being in “MY” space (there isn’t such a thing.) I have since dissolved my temple into the new guest space. And never resurrected it because instead it was the place where all the “homeless things,” landed. So many homeless things in a home so large with so few people.
I hate the layout now. The layout I adored in 2008 has now come back to bite me.
Stacked, 3 floors of ill-managed zones that I feel I will suffocate under month after month. If I get one floor resolved, there is another. And if there are two - the third is always the “orphaned,” zone.
So the house is a thing unto itself. Right now, we are “working” on refinancing towards a lower interest rate. This is all self driven. Without me, he doesn’t sign a damn piece of paper. He wants me to read it all with him. I need to work more with him, admittedly. A part of me wants to yell and scream and say, “THESE ONES HAVE YOUR NAME ON IT. AND THE ONES IN MY FOLDER HAVE MY NAME ON THEM. We sign them how we sign them. Not rocket science, dumbfuck.”
But that’s rude. Instead I recognize it’s a rough thing. With so much to do. I’m so overwhelmed at managing my own financial shit, my Grandpa’s financial shit, the financial shit of a dead Grandma - it’s all over and I am doing a piss poor job of over spending and under managing my own and putting all the logic into someone else’s ledger.
I always had a rejection to my own success as to not want to even look at my money or spend it. Then last year I did something I had never done in my life. I began spending.
I spent my savings on teacher training. I refused to spend my 9 weeks pinching pennies so I allowed myself 9 weeks of letting go. And since then, I haven’t quite been right.
Now I am faced with a spendy ride (the car itself was a cost effective move) - but the transmission error it has thrown at me recently sort of stopped me momentarily in my tracks. I don’t want to drive it. I don’t want to do anything until I service the tranny.
The hydraulic line split from end to end. I can’t drop my top.
The two things combined stressed me out a little, to say the least. I am in love with the car for obvious reasons. I have treated it better than I treated any of my cars.
The teaching. I am so happy in Redmond it’s unreal. Still adjusting to the new studio. Not quite in sync with a set of new students yet, but getting there. People love me. I am working on my Dialogue. It’s an endless feat. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough. And then I hear people like my best friend Katty going on about being 99% verbatim. Bullshit.
There’s no way to daydream on a podium because I fiercely want to be better every class. I want all my students to get more out of the class and I want my own inadequacies to fade as they still somehow get their time and $$ worth. I am here to help you heal yourself. And the hallmark of accuracy is where it all starts. Spine Twist, Ardha-matsendrasana… Chest up, spine straight, rib cage more open. Look over your shoulder… twist and twist and twist, stretch up more… twisting and stretching your spine from coccyx to the neck, like a pearl necklace, exhale breathing and twist, last chance… twist…..
Tell me, you mighty perfect teachers, after a year only …… your spine twist is verbatim every time, tell me that. Everyone maybe, more perfect than me. That’s for damn sure. That’s how I was born. Set behind the world. Racing to get ahead. I look like I’m moving fast, but in the mirror it looks like paint drying. Some sloppy brush work and places with thin spots. You guys are just looking from 30 meters back.
My own Yoga practice is feels like an under-watered wilting, miserable, plant. My tech support, probably the same thing. Been doing that so long I can’t even begin to recognize what life is like without it. Except last year I was given a chance to see what that would look like. At the moment, that is not the option I am looking for.
My heart feels full and yet unattended. That’s my fault. I turn my back on myself, always focusing outward. I’m in a little deep, at the moment. There’s no insta-fix, like I am used to, towards this kind of in-attendance. I thought I wrote an “unattend” file, like installing windows with all those simple answers in a tiny text file ready to be called out in the background while I go off and work on the big stuff.
Guess what? I had a syntax error and it kinda stalled early on and now that I’ve been ignoring it, I’ve got to go back and work on that.
And it's going to take time.
It’s not a bad thing per se, but right now is when I came back to the console and realized it was happening! Whoa! Shit! Whoa Nelly! You were supposed to be finished! Oh, snap. A semi-colon where it shouldn’t have been!!!!
All the right questions, all the right answers, and something still a bit off. That’s what it is.
The kicking the stool right before my birthday kinda clinched it. It hurt like hell for 3 weeks, and FINALLY is beginning to feel normal. Ish. Kind of.
And so I can get back in the studio, look at myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s all going to be okay, that we can work through it all, that it’s all a piece of cake on the outside of the studio.
I miss teacher training where I got my practice… twice a day, no matter what. There was no choice in the matter. My medicine.
Now I skip my medicine every week. It’s not a good picture.
I teach when I would normally have practiced.
I love teaching. I need to keep teaching to stay sharp.
I need my practice also, to stay sharp.
There isn’t enough time or me to go around on that end. And there are other priorities too…….
And in the office, summer is passing and there is a fully loaded constant set of requests coming at me. Upgrades. Departmental moves. PC Help requests. My MEP isn’t even started and I need to do it in 2 months or else.
SHIT.
Truth is, I am reeling with everything going on around me.
Trying to learn to dance, to sing. I’m not a pretty singer. Dancing… I was never a flow yoga girl, first time it happened was for the audition. It felt amazing because someone helped me see my own potential and I understood I was graceful and beautiful in that piece. But with someone less natural at working with kids like me, I fight them, I fight myself, I fight. It’s not a natural birth of beauty. It’s choppy like the relationship, it’s raw and unrefined.
What a learning experience! Contrasts. It’s going to come together. But I don’t think it will be as good as it could be if there was someone how knew how to help me find myself and made minor adjustments that showed me that I really am beautiful. Strong. Capable.
Fortunately the more I progress in life, the more visible it is that I just have to break in and fuck up as many times as I need to find the grace. Some people are just better suited for getting people to do just that. Others … not so much. So we work with who we have, appreciate them for what they do have, and bury the sadness under fake smiles and effort to be the best to everyone.
I would cry about half of this, but the tears just stay stuck inside of me. Unsung stories.
Keep closing out requests, teaching classes, connecting with people, falling in love with people, over and over. It keeps it worth it. When I do not want to throw my hands up in exasperation and frustration, I am intensely in love with so many others. More yoga would resolve half of this. Except for my house. I just want to move out and leave all my crap with him. But you can’t escape some things. And He is the one who put up with my shit for years when I was literally at my worst. Now I glow, expand, grow. Now, I’m someone everyone can enjoy being around. He was there when I wasn’t so enjoyable.
He was there when I felt all alone. Except …he wasn’t there. He was working overnight at Target and I didn’t see him and I was all alone. What a paradox.
Point being, our challenges are normal in some aspects. We struggle with being too alike at times. We struggle with being too different at others. I mostly struggle with respecting him and his path. At the core, we’re intensely different creatures. I am always on the go, and am unhappy without that. I think he would be miserable with my “happy” parameters. I would express it a little more, except my brain is numbing and I have an appointment with a user shortly. Therefore, I wrap this up.
So much of what is happening is ultimately beautiful and worth while and wonderful and everything I wanted. So it makes me feel topsy turvy and confused. Especially when I realize there are things I just can't manage to fit in on top of all the other stuff, the confusion and the beautiful.
-Angela