Author: ladyquirky

Learning to live life as an adventure.

Why This? Why Now?

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

I am one of those people who probably spent too much time in therapy. I find myself questioning my intentions on just about every single decision I make. I open up to my friends (and “friends”) and explore my motivations and inspirations. I seek the advice and gentle leadership I get from my mentors. Some of the questions I ponder:

  • Why do I want to do this?
  • Is this going to improve my life?
  • Does this frighten me?
  • Or am I running away?
  • What am I hoping to accomplish?
  • How will this affect my family?
  • How will this affect my career?
  • Will people laugh at me?
  • Can I get people to laugh with me?
  • Am I being honest?
  • Will this embarrass my family?
  • Are other people doing this?
  • What will my friends think?
  • Should I tell anyone I want to do this?
  • If ___ finds out, what will they think?
  • Do I care what other people think about this?
  • Is this going to change who I am as a person?
  • Who am I as a person?
  • Does this matter?
  • Did anyone else cry when Steve went to college on Blue’s Clues?
  • Who cares?
  • Do I have the energy and ambition to do this?
  • Am I good enough to do this?
  • Just who exactly, do I think I am?
  • What’s the worst thing that can happen?
  • What is the best thing that can happen?

Now, as you must have gathered by now, all of these questions go running through my head ALL AT THE SAME TIME! Sometimes, I get so overwhelmed by my inner dialogue that I simply give up and stop. Other times I dwell on the potential disaster that I have fabricated in my mind. Now, when it comes to major life decisions, it is entirely appropriate to consider at least some of these questions. It may be a little less appropriate to ponder these points while trying to maneuver through the grocery store. (Embarrassingly enough, the grocery store is fraught with stress for me.)

So, what? What is the point? Come on, Nyki- do we really care about your motivations? Well, probably not. I have to consider that all my angst and social awkwardness is really just making me look like an ass on FB. However, I do have good intentions. I suspect that there are other people out there who are like me. People who want to make a difference in the world, and who are completely unsure of the skills they possess that will allow that to happen. No, I am not seeking fame and glory (Oh, yes. I totally am- that was one of those fake humble things people say.) But, seriously. I am putting myself out there- and I suppose I could be seeking reassurance. Reassurance that my words and thoughts are somehow meaningful. I want to matter.

Why is this important to a girl who would swear on her life that she does not care what people think of her? To be honest, I only do not care about the opinions that are in direct opposition to my opinions. Anyone who claims they believe otherwise is a liar in my book. Now, I do not have strong feelings about a lot of things. I love a good debate. I can usually argue a different view point about most subjects. Wait, I try to avoid the word argue- (because then I am seen as being difficult and obstinate.)

Random question: Do Terrorists call themselves Terrorists? Who can answer that? Should I google it?

See? I am easily distracted. So, it is now time to refocus. Why this? Why now? These questions can be applied to so many parts of my life. Most immediately (because I am actually writing it at this very moment) my blog. Why did I want to start a blog?  Well, the most popular answer I can come up with is to be inspiring. However, people seeking to be inspiring freak me out. I mean to wake up every day and tell myself that I need to inspire someone is a lot of pressure. And, it is based on the assumption that I have done something inspirational. Nope. Not yet. I know all the crap that runs through my head. It is usually a mix of snarky judgement coupled with sincere confusion about what on earth is going on. No, this is honestly an exercise to prove to myself that I can actually do anything I set my mind to.

You see, I have spent a very long time defining myself through my career. This was probably not the best choice. Especially when I cannot even really talk about my career in any sort of intelligent, thoughtful, or honest way. And, I finally figured out- and this was a painful realization, it is just a job. It is what I do to make money. No one wants me to talk all about spending my days in the hospital and clinic when they ask me to tell them about myself. Nope, my career does not define me. I honestly thought it would. I thought that by achieving this higher level of education, I could make up for the fact that I punked out in high school. Nope, it did not alleviate my guilt over that. Apparently, nothing will ever erase that shame. I do not identify as a professional with an advanced degree. Nope, I am still a high school dropout.

The mistake I made: I did not allow myself to become a whole person! I had nothing of interest to talk about outside of my career. I had no hobbies. No craft. No skills. For years, I had very few actual relationships outside of my immediate family and my work comrades. This was a mistake, because I had no compass or outlet to grow. I was stagnant. I was bored. I had achieved “the job,” the one that had consumed my every waking thought and dream. Now what?

I decided to start working out. I wanted to be healthy. (Actually, if I am being honest, I wanted to be hot. And get a boyfriend.) This strategy did not start working for me until I realized that I deserved to be healthy. (It does not help that I am still not hot, and still don’t have a boyfriend.) I deserved to take care of my body. That it was 100% okay to go out in public and try something new, and be very bad at it. I am so bad at boxing. SO VERY BAD. But, I love it. It is a challenge. Something that I do for me. Only for me. My poor mother was so confused when I told her about going to a boxing class. She expressed concern for the butchiness of it. (butchiness is not a word, and I do not think that is what she actually said- but, that is what I took away from the conversation.) Then, she saw how much more feminine feeling strong made me. Now, she is completely on board. I know, it seems odd that boxing would make me feel more like a woman. It totally does. I equate the word woman with strength, confidence, and in general- badassery.  I really think my mother secretly wishes I had found a more girly physical activity. (I don’t know, maybe dancing?- except I have zero rhythm, and absolutely cannot dance.) And, this whole Tough Mudder thing. Why would a clumsy, still out of shape girl actually want to go crawl around in the mud with a bunch of people she does not know? (Much better than to crawl around in the mud with the people who will see you Monday morning- don’t ya think?) I am doing this to once and for all prove to myself that I can! Now, I have no delusions about how this is going to go. I am sure it is going to be a disaster. But, I am going. I am training for it. More than anything, I am looking forward to the social aspect of it. There is no way I can honestly delude myself that the actual Mudder is going to be fun. The team part is intriguing though.

I have never really been part of a team. I thought I had found a team to be on in my work. No, that was not actually what it turned out to be. I am not bitter, I am just realistic. I have to seek that fulfillment somewhere else. Now, don’t forget, I love my job. It is my dream job, but, I am having to alter my expectations and see it for what it is. A part of my life. If I fall into the trap and make it my whole life- I am doing both the job and myself a disservice.

Now, about the blog. Wait. Let me finish the health part. I cannot make just being healthy and trying to improve my body my entire life either. That would be a slap in the face to the whole balance thing I am striving for. My history with the whole eating disorder- and my neuroses, has taught me that no one thing can be my entire life. I need more. This is where the blog came in. I have always loved writing. I kept journals- doodles- and have a serious love of words. I had never really spent any time learning the proper way to write. (I have this weird fantasy of being published- perhaps this is the closest I can get?) I thought maybe I could find something professional to research and write about, however, that is not really the voice I am craving to use. There must be a format for writing the way I think, you know, my inner dialogue. (I am really hoping this is the appropriate format for this style.)

My voice. I wanted to be able to speak my truth as it is at that moment. I did not want to be forever locked into a specific theory. I wanted something fluid- where you can see the vacillating nature of my thoughts. (Vacillating is an interesting word for me- one day, IN COLLEGE (sheez) someone accused me of being “a stuck up bitch” because I was using “big words”- ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME???? I was unaware that VACILATE was a big word!!!! Besides, I did not know another way to describe how I process big decisions.)

I strive to be better. I want to be:

  • A better mother
  • A better Tiki Nyk (that’s nephew code for auntie)
  • A better daughter
  • A better sister
  • A better granddaughter
  • A better friend
  • A better nurse practitioner
  • A better employee (mentee? I wonder what the word is for that?) (guess I could look it up- naw)
  • A better leader
  • A better follower
  • A much better writer
  • A better boxer
  • A runner (I am not one yet- so, not better)

So, how do I define better? I don’t. This is another one of those things that there are too many answers for. I am constantly learning more about all of these roles. That is the best way I know of to become better. I would like to say I strive for excellence. My only concern about this term is this; it seems to be a terminal condition. What is better than excellent? When I stop trying to improve, then I am complacent and stop taking care of the relationships I have the good fortune to be in.

My quest for constant improvement puts me at danger for never achieving fulfillment. This is another reason that focusing solely on my career was detrimental for my well- being. You see, while my career is intimately fulfilling- as many healthcare careers are, it still will not keep me warm at night. My career cannot give me a hug, or tell me good job. There are a few people (those mentors I mentioned earlier) who can do that, however, I need to believe that even if I were to be doing something different with my life, those particular people would still be interested in my development. (Even if this is not true, please don’t tell me. I desperately need to believe this. Even if it is a delusion.)

The simple fact that my job is not always fun, and somedays I absolutely do not want to be there, left me feeling disoriented and without an anchor. I did not have a way to define myself. I felt like I was a failure. This was so hard to overcome. I had to find outside interests. I had to find people who were not comfortable reaching INTO other people’s bodies. (I know, gross.) I needed friends who did something different. I needed another level to relate to people. Working out gave me that outlet. More importantly, sharing my funny selfies- making ridiculous car dancing videos- and cheering for other people gave me that outlet. I had this group of people (I hope no one finds this insulting, because I am saying it with all the fond and loving feelings I have, but, this Tribe of Misfits) who found me funny. For some strange reason they found my disdain of the gym inspiring. Some have said they found my honesty refreshing. Seriously, why can’t more people find me refreshing?

I do not honestly think I can change the world. For one thing… I simply fail to see how I am all that important. I do think that I have the potential to be happy though. I believe I can do whatever I want to do. I am extremely lucky to have a whole slew of people in my life who support whatever crazy endeavor I find myself on. So, to answer the question- Why This? Why Now? I want to be better. I want to be more. I want to find my limits and push them.

*It is important to note: My family and friends are extremely important to me.

**I will still strive to be the absolute best that I can be in my career.

***I will seek new adventures, and hopefully be able to write about them in a meaningful way.

****If somehow I manage to make a mark on the world, I would totally have a lot of people to thank. After all, we are a product of the people who love and support us. Nothing wonderful is created in a vacuum. I certainly hope that I am able to express my love and appreciation to everyone who has helped me through my journey.

*****Most of all, I hope I have fun- and if you are reading whatever nonsense I manage to come up with- I hope it is fun for you.

******For those of you who don’t like what I have to say- sorry. Nope. Not sorry. But, I certainly mean no offense. I never seek to offend anyone. Just sharing my thoughts on whatever topic it is at that particular moment. I am sure my feelings will change. Remember, I am striving to be fluid. hmmm. Perhaps I should leave this part out. eh, no. It popped into my head for some reason. So, it can stay.

Photo on 1-18-15 at 10.07 AM

 

Yes! Yes! YES!!!!

~ ladyquirky ~ 1 Comment

I bet you are wondering what on earth this girl is carrying on about now. Well, if you are sure you are ready. I accepted a proposal. Yes. I totally want to embark on this amazing adventure with you. I have been waiting for this my entire life. I was weepy, and so full of emotion.

And… it was at this moment, the one where I was trying to figure out who I would call first to share my AMAZING and life shattering plans. It was the moment that I remembered… I am sitting on my couch trying to write. Drinking my unsweet blueberry green with a splash of sweet blueberry pomegranate tea. Wonder if I can get paid for advertising…

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So, back to my life shattering news. Don’t forget, it is amazing. And, I said “YES!” Okay. We all know that Prince Charming did not actually come careening up my street on his valiant steed (okay, or super loud motorcycle, in full tattooed, and neatly trimmed bearded glory). But, HOW COOL WOULD THAT BE? I can only imagine the depths of my overreacting and excitement. The ring was beautiful and he said the most amazingly romantic thing. Swept me away in a tide of love, romance, and rose petals to the beach- where obviously, we took a long walk, held hands and planned our glorious star-studded future. Ok—ay… none of that actually happened- but, I seriously enjoyed thinking about it while I was in the shower this morning.

I know I am not the only woman who has planned out like 17 weddings. Not to mention all the engagement rings, proposals, honeymoons, and anniversaries. Ummmm, hello Pinterest anyone? Okay, I do not actually really do Pinterest. I get lost and confused. I start off looking for a hairstyle- and end up reading celebrity gossip trash. I do spent hours watching Say Yes to the Dress and whatever other wedding crap TV I can find. I weep at pretty much all weddings on TV. Okay, I love/ hate weddings. And, it seems to me that if I am going to somehow squeeze having this many “most special days of my life”- then, I had better get busy and at least start dating or something.

Remember when we were kids? We were encouraged to use our imaginations, to play! Now, unless you are one of those lucky fools who works in a creative field (so jealous), then there are decidedly fewer socially acceptable opportunities to act out our fantasies. (No! This is not a post about whips and bondage… although, Fifty Shades is coming out in theaters soon.) So, it is with great embarrassment that I admit to living in an almost constant state of daydreaming. I have spent many productive hours planning out a fictional future (with the most amazingly beautiful heroine that one could possibly imagine), written witty acceptance speeches for awards that have not even been invented, planned my television interviews… oh, and let us not forget planning the wardrobe and jewelry choices that I would make. I am a world traveling, life saving humanitarian. I am funny, write best-selling novels, self-help books, and memoirs that are destined to become required reading in college classes that teach you how to be awesome. My art is highly sought after, and people offer me commissions to make their lives richer and a little prettier.

I am pretty sure that I am going to be an amazing lawyer, totally awesome pilot, and ground- breaking scientist. No. I do not actually have any real plans to make any of this happen. It is just something fun to think about. Geez, I am not insane. Well, maybe a little. 

I also think about people I see, or read about and decide whether or not they would like to be my friend. There are a few people who should totally be my friend. Sandra Bullock is one. Another woman who I am pretty sure I should email and invite into my inner circle is Jenny Lawson. She writes a blog I like. Oh, and she wrote one of my favorite books. (Look, if you want to know who she is just google her.) She went to college in my hometown, and I think she would make a fabulous addition to my posse. (Hehe. I just said posse. Perhaps entourage would sound better.) I am feeling fairly certain that Dax Shepard and Kristin Bell would find me charming. (Yes, I was just watching Ellen on my DVR earlier.) Kevin Spacey would probably make me seem smarter. I am sure you are getting the gist. OH, I almost forgot about Ellen, she and I would spend hours watching cat videos and laughing. It would be epic! Oh, and if my real-life friends are reading this… You are more than welcome to come watch cat videos with me sometime. Or, we could just share inane stuff on FB. Oh. I am not trying to replace you- I am sure these famous folk will love you too!!!!

I imagine climbing mountains, exploring the rain forest, and winning an olympic medal. All of these fantasies are fun. It does not actually mean that I think I deserve to do this. I have so much respect for people who manage to be successful in their endeavors. I think this is part of this insane TM stuff for me. It is a challenge, one that with some help can be faced.

So, it is totally not weird that I practice acceptance speeches in the shower. I am willing to practice enough speeches to be worthy of winning any award or prize someone would like to bestow on me. I would be happy to accept a proposal from a man who wants to spend his life with me (well, as long as I like him and stuff.) But, even if none of these things happen- I can still be successful in my life on my own terms.

 

PS. If Sandra Bullock or Jenny Lawson somehow happen to read this- hit me up on FB. Give me a call. Write me a letter. Whatever- I promise to provide you with tons of entertaining things. Besides, you should see my drunk texts.

Mud and the Art of Making “Friends” on FB

~ ladyquirky ~ 2 Comments

So, it goes without saying… I have always struggled with making friends. I never know what to say. I never know what the cool kids are doing. I have no idea about current fashion. I am seriously socially awkward. I am loud, forgetful, and at times judgmental.

I had been on FB for a while, and it was interesting… I guess. The only thing it was really good for was seeing what other people were doing (pregnant, married, engaged, divorced, and graduated- oh, and throw in a few “I am so drunks.”) I had no idea how groups worked and frankly, it was pretty boring. I had lots of “friends,” (mostly people from my past) and I got to see what they were posting. The one good thing FB gave me was suggestions for pages I might like. I got to see blogs other people were reading. This is how I accidentally joined the Health Club group I am part of.

Remember, I knew nothing about FB groups… so, I vaguely wondered why there were all these videos and pictures of sweaty people doing push- ups in my news feed. I did not really pursue it until one day, a video caught my attention and I clicked on it. This opened the page. I scrolled through the posts so confused. What was a PWS and NSV? Eventually, I started commenting on other’s posts and then one day I posted something. And people commented. I responded. A conversation ensued. It was gradual at first. I did not really invest any time in it. Eventually, I started to recognize people and would comment on their posts. Then, they would invariably comment on mine. We had become “friends.” These new friends were sharing their struggles and victories with trying to be healthy and eat well. So, last April I joined the gym.

Meeting these friends at the Mudder is one of the most exciting parts. They have watched me go from complete couch potato to someone who actually works out. (Except for when I am boycotting and pouting because it hurts that day.) I do not actually have any friends who weighed as much as I did. I certainly did not have anyone who had started working out at that weight. I needed someone who could relate to the idea of a girl who has never been athletic trying to morph into an athlete. In her mid 30s no less. I learned things about macros and shoes. FitBit vs Garmin vs Polar. Cardio vs strength training. I saw people sharing their progress pics. Transformation Tuesday. Flex Friday. Muscle Monday. I took pictures of my almost visible triceps. I competed in challenges between the members. I looked forward to posting my picture and a description of that I had accomplished that day. 

Over time we would gradually become real FB “friends”. Not everyone but, the ones I related to or found inspiring or funny. I have had the good fortune to meet some women who have so many special talents, and a unique outlook on the world. They have been so supportive and kind. Sometimes, someone will message me and tell me they signed up for a boxing class because they saw me posting about it. This whole fitty adventure has been enriched by this group of people. It is way more fun. Besides, it took me a long time to get brave enough to workout with my superstar friends. (I would have never been able to keep up at all in the beginning.)

FB is a great way to practice “talking” to people. One of the big risk, just like with our obsession with texting, is the inability to pick up vocal and body language cues. This increases the risk for misunderstandings. I tend to think (and speak) in a borderline obnoxious tone. Sarcasm is one of my favorite tools. I find delight in irony (especially irony and inside jokes that can be shared between people). This is a dangerous tone to use in written communication. So, I find myself explaining what I actually meant however, by that point… the damage has been done. I have been very fortunate. A few of these people have somehow infiltrated my real life. I talk to them on the phone. I make vague plans to someday come visit them if I am ever incidentally in that part of the country. I share some of my personal struggles and consider their view-point and see if they have any personal experience with the situation. We share tidbits and information about our real lives. So, FB friends can morph into real friends. 

Now, to define the word friend is hard. These people on FB are not my friend in the way that my best friend is my friend. They are not a friend in the way WM or SD are my friends. Those are close friends, or actually, they are people who I feel are basically part of my family. These FB people offer fun or interesting conversation. I would not call them to come bail me out of jail. I would not give them my home address and let them have a spare key to my house. They are FB friends.

I think that it is human nature to seek a connection with other people. We are social beings. We live in a community. Turns out, a community can be formed on FB. However, just like in real life, it requires effort. I have to be reactive and engaged. These are conversations, and I have learned a lot about forging interpersonal relationships with people in the real world by fostering and nurturing relationships on FB.

There is a real danger for folks who invest more time in their virtual relationships than their “real” ones. FB friends do not replace real friends. However, if you are lucky, the FB relationships can grow into significant real relationships. I can use the communication skills I learned to get out in the real world and foster some new relationships. Making friends is hard! One of the ways to make friends is to find a common interest and to share that part of my life. I do not have to share my entire being with everyone I meet. It is okay to keep my life somewhat compartmentalized.That being said, I still have to invest something in the relationship. I have to be willing to put myself out there. I have to pay attention to what is going on. Play a game. Post a picture. Develop inside jokes. Create memories that can be referenced. It is impossible to forge new relationships if I hold everyone at arm’s length.

I am so excited that I have made these new friends on FB. In a couple of months they will no longer be FB friends. I will be able to say with pride that I embarked on a crazy, muddy adventure with them. I am pretty sure that I will leave Mesa with a slew of new friends and the confidence to continue this crazy quest I am on.

 

When did I become A Volvo Driving Soccer Mom? (I am actually not- but, I like the song)

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

So, last night I am minding my own business- snooping and spying on FB. Then I see it- a petition has been started by a local high school student. Oh, if the radio station is sharing this- it MUST be something amazing right?????

Ummm. No. It was a poorly written lame argument in response to the new tardy policy at the school. Now, you only get two a semester before you get “written up.” Whatever that means. This person discussed the fact that the students do not have time to use the facilities- because it takes the average person 4 minutes to do that. Not sure where she obtained that nice little statistic- however, I am fairly certain she is wrong.

So, in honor of my Master’s of Science degree- (see, I am a scientist), I went to conduct a study. I found the first group of people I saw and tried to explain what I was trying to find out. We ended up having a multigenerational argument over whether or not 5 minutes is plenty of time to take care of your elimination needs. ( I really think that the people who disagreed with me are too young to get a vote- so, I won.)

I remember vividly (okay, perhaps I only have a vague recollection- but, whatever) having this exact same discussion when I was in 7th grade. So, obviously this proves that we were advanced. We tried to start a petition, without the aid of the internet- and it lasted about 6.5 minutes. I remember feeling so indignant. I would never be one of those adults lacking in compassion. I mean, these people do not understand! The adults have no idea what it is like to have to switch classes- not to mention stop and talk to our friends, go to our locker- try to find a piece of contraband bubble gum… AND go to the bathroom- all in five minutes!!!! Oh, the horror!

Then, I started looking at our comments. Several of the adult commenters were actually friends of mine- pretty cool people in my opinion, and we were all spouting essentially verbatim,- the SAME arguments that were provided for our teenage quest for justice.

Oops. We had become those judgmental freaks that we all swore we would never be like. I see teenagers out in public, and I shudder. Why? Why would they act that way? Why can’t they just GROW UP? I seem to have forgotten- they are just kids. They are learning to deal with the world in their own way. They have not yet experienced every thing I have.

As much as I hate to say it, my mother was actually pretty smart. She employed a rather clever tool- “If all of your friend’s parents allow them to do ___ (insert whatever insane thing I wanted to do), and they call me, then you can go.” So, my friends and I would spend hours planning our trip (Okay, it was probably minutes- and most likely said in passing) to Woodstock ’94. It was life or death. A life changing event. If I was not allowed to go, I was certain I would die, or at the very least spend the rest of my life decidedly uncool. Needless to say- none of us went. I probably did end up decidedly uncool. My mother simply found a way to avoid the whole “THAT’s NOT FAIR!!!!” conversation. Pretty smart chic. It still irritates me.

I did not realize that I had left the realm of young adulthood, and entered this gray area of just plain old adult. I am in my mid-thirties, and really thought I was still pretty much the same as a kid. I did not understand that I was hurtling through life so fast. Furthermore, I did not realize that I had stopped thinking that irresponsible behavior is okay. It happens gradually. So gradually that you cannot even see how intolerant you are becoming. I suppose it is maturing. Perhaps a better word is evolving.

This act of becoming a “grown- up” is so cruel. You do not even see the changes that are subtly changing the way you view the world. It’s funny that it just takes one little girl’s petition to remind you- remind you that you did become that person who caused you so much grief as a child. Experience changes everything about us- and part of the process is giving these kids the room to have their own experience. They tried to tell us- we did not listen. And, now… we are trying to tell our kids. Guess what? They are not listening. Because “Parents just don’t understand.”

*I do not drive a Volvo and my son does not play soccer. However, I do LOVE Everclear.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

I have a bit of a filter problem. I tend to say whatever pops into my head. Adderall entering my life in my second semester of college helped, although did not solve the problem. This has led to many interesting conversations, has cost me a more than a few friendships over the years, and has in general wreaked havoc on my life. Now, throw in the constant barrage of stimuli and I am constantly in the eye of a perfect storm.

Remember the movie Short Circuit? Johnny Five is one of my favorite characters of all time. Johnny Five is a robot that was struck by lightning a la Frankenstein- which obviously brought him to life. So, of course he has explore his new world- all the while seeking input. I have the good fortune to constantly be seeking input in my own life. I cannot function in a room that is too quiet. I get frustrated because at that point, my thoughts take on a life of their own. Non sequitur seem to be my special gift- although the apparent randomness of my musings actually follow a train of thought that when broken down makes sense. (okay- maybe it only makes sense to me- but, that cannot be helped. The previous sentence is bad. Actually, it’s not the previous sentence. It is the sentence immediately before the parenthesis. I may need some grammar help.)

You wanna know something kinda funny? Well, if not- too bad. Writing about ADD is hard. I am struggling with staying on topic.

So, refocus. Back to the filter/ input problem. No, I have something else I need to point out first. I frequently say things that inadvertently hurt people’s feelings. You see, I am constantly trying to learn and assimilate all that data into a usable format. So, I tend to make incredulous statements- and sometimes forget that people are not necessarily following my train of thought. This is because for everything that comes out of my mouth- there are about 3 other statements that did not make the cut. Typically, the things that do not make the journey to my lips are the things I assume (yes, I used the word assume- yes, I know the danger of that- and yes, I frequently fall into this trap) that the omitted information is common knowledge. I wrote this insanely long- over researched “proposal” while I was waiting to start my job. Okay, let’s be honest- I was hoping for the position to somehow become vacant so that I could take my rightful place on the throne. ha! (I am not royalty- and I realize now that it may have been a little overconfident on my part.) However, there was a whole section that I dedicated to assumptions. You see, most ideas are based on certain assumptions.

There are so many things that run through my head any given moment.  I have to allow myself at least a nanosecond to process before I respond. (However, with ADD- you frequently forget to allow yourself that beat. And, that is where the trouble starts.) You see, I have had lots of therapy. I have read lots of self- help books. I have learned that in order for me to be happy- for the most part, I have to mind my own business. This means that I only need to concern myself with my part of things.

  • What did I do?
  • What was my part?
  • What should I have done?
  • What should I do in the future?
  • Is this an accurate representation of the facts?
  • Was I wrong?
  • Is it really even about me?
  • Is there a lesson I needed to learn?
  • Did I actually cause this?
  • Or- and in my mind, most importantly, is the other person crazy? (If so, I can disregard all of my part.) I may be kidding about the last one. Well, I am probably kidding a little.

When someone says something to me that I find offensive- I really try hard to evaluate whether or not it is something I actually need to worry about. Usually, it is not. So, I try to let it go. (I often fail at that part- but, I do try.) However, if they are responding to something I have done- then, I try to step back and evaluate my behavior. What is my part in this? Usually, there is something I need to work on. Hence all the damn self- help books.

But, did we forget? My filter does not work very well. So, I say whatever thing it is that pops into my head. Hence, lots of people think I am quite rude. Makes me sad sometimes. Not usually. Most people who do not like me are not people I would want to hang out with anyway. But, there is a problem with that logic. When you do things as a member of a team- like my work- or, even more importantly, the upcoming Tough Mudder then you have to be able to work with and both respect and be respected by the other members of the team. Okay, maybe the TM is not more important that my career- but, it IS pretty important. So, I am reading How to Win Friends and Influence People. Yep. The same book Grandaddy got me for Christmas when I was 8 years old. I guess he knew even back then that there was bound to be a problem.

Interesting book. So far, I have figured out- Don’t criticize. Be nice. Ask questions. There is more… but, I cannot remember it right now. I may need to take notes.

I am not using my ADD to make excuses- no, far from it. I just wish I could somehow get people to understand… I would never purposefully hurt anyone’s feelings. I think that is just mean. There is really nothing mean about me. I just forget sometimes that other people do not have the same perspective I do. (A lot of them have not had as much therapy as I have, and may have not really read their self-help books closely enough.) Oh. Wait. See? that was one of things that I probably should not have said.

The best defense I have found is to surround myself with people who know me- people who do not assume that I am being mean. People who give me the chance to completely flesh out what I think about something. You know, I tend to process situations by trying to think of different arguments for it either way. I am a debater. It’s what I do. I am not so naive as to think there are absolutely right or wrong answers about anything. In almost every situation, I can see a time that I might have to change my stance. That is frustrating enough to throw off your whole equilibrium.

So, the next time someone comes up to me to tell me they passed a test, or achieved something they had been working on- I should pause and think before I say, “Oh, you did?” Perhaps it would be better to say “Congratulations!”

As far as the Tough Mudder goes, I am just going to do my best to pay attention and be careful with my words. I am not going to assume that everyone knows what I mean or who I am. I am going to try to be available for the people who are struggling and perhaps feeling like they are not part of the team. I am just going to be present- and not make it all about me. I am going to make it all about us. I am really so very excited that so many people are coming. I feel like they are my friends.

This Tough Mudder is so far out of my comfort zone. I am not going to be athletically ready. I know this!!! However, I am going to do the very best that I can. For me, being part of a team is the most important part. I am going to be vulnerable, and I am going to need help. I have to trust that these people who I have never met, are going to be there to support me. No, they are not going to carry me through it- although Dan already promised he would…. I am going to get through it all- With a Little Help From My Friends.

 

Turns out- I was Wrong

~ ladyquirky ~ 4 Comments

My health and fitness journey started out on accident. I had tried to jump on the “I love my curves” bandwagon, until I realized- those are not curves. Those are fat rolls. You never see a woman screaming at the top of her lungs- “I love my fat rolls!!!!”- If you ever do see that, just walk away. quickly. They are obviously insane.

Now, this does not mean that I am advocating for women to hate their bodies. However, instead of focusing on what our bodies look like, and their flaws- many women who seem to have a healthy body image- love what their body allows them to DO! These women are my heroes right now. I am currently attempting to train for my Tough Mudder adventure that is happening in… 9 weeks!!!! Gulp. Nine. 9. Nine- one less than 10. Holy Crap on a cracker. What is wrong with me?

And, then… I remembered. I remembered why I wanted to do this in the first place. You see, I “met” all these groovy people on FB in a health club. It was a place where I could post my sweaty gross PWS (post workout selfies) and have people cheer. Yes, it sounds cheesy to want a group of people to cheer for you- but, when you have spent your entire life as an athletic mess, it’s fun to have a cheering squad. These people have encouraged me wholeheartedly. I need that. I tend to divide the world into compartments- there is FB world. Then, there is the Real World. People in the real world don’t want to hear that I lasted 3 whole minutes longer on the treadmill. My fitty buddies get it. They totally get the struggle of trying to drink enough water- How to find protein when you just don’t want to eat more meat… and think your protein powder tastes like sweaty ass. (Quest Bars… although I only like a couple of flavors)

We can discuss sports bras- the horror of being smothered by our breasts when we attempt a Handstand without the sports bra, shin splints, C25K, shoes, compression garments, and for some reason- Zumba. These were the first people who cheered me on when I was new to boxing. They would encourage me to go when I was actually shaking with fear. So, now we are gonna do a TM. WHY????

Well, let me be honest. For some reason- it is a little less scary to be doing this with a group of people who remember that not very long ago- I was excited to walk a mile. They know how much I used to weigh… and if they can do math- they know how much I still weigh. They have seen pics of me trying to find muscles… all in all… they know some of the most private and embarrassing parts of me. The ones I would never discuss with my work friends. And, Angela is going with me. Knowing she will be there is one of the main reasons I know I can do this.

You see, Tough Mudder is often touted as the hardest OCR around. However, if you do some reading- It is really not a race at all. It is all about facing your own personal fears- and reaching out and helping those around you attain their goals. THAT is why I want to do it. I know there are going to be obstacles that I just cannot do. I live in mortal fear of getting stuck in those damn tubes. (I am probably not even going to attempt those. My dreams were too vivid. My poor soul cannot imagine surviving that.)

So, once again- why? Why would a fat, scared girl want to go roll around in the mud with a bunch of fitty fools? They have given me hope. Hope that I can change. Hope that if I keep working- I can be better. Healthier. Stronger. I have never been an athlete. I want to be able to call myself one.

I do not trust people who say they are okay with being fat and unhealthy. It makes me nervous. There is a sense of complacency that surrounds that statement. Now, there was a time- when I was all eating disordered and tired. I did not ever imagine being able to be thin without spending half my life in a bathroom with my fingers stuck down my throat. So, in order to stop that behavior- I stopped weighing myself. I did not get healthy- I just stopped thinking about it. I told myself I did not want to go hike up that sand dune to see the living coral or whatever. That was a lie!!!! I did want to see it- I was just too scared of trying and failing once again.

I had to stop saying I want to be thin!!! Now, I believe that will most likely be a byproduct of eating well and exercising. I do not really have a goal weight. I have a desire to be active. I secretly want to become a runner. I want to earn medals for running a marathon. I want to make it through a boxing class without someone having to steadily encourage me to keep moving. I want to be able to take a dance class without everyone being afraid that I am going to die. I want to be able to go to hot yoga- and not be afraid that I look like a beached walrus.

You know, getting fitty for fat folk is a pride swallowing endeavor. It is frightening. I am  embarrassed  to really work hard- because I am afraid people are going to assume all my panting and sweating are a byproduct of my fat ass moving. I automatically assume that people are watching and judging me. (For the most part, this has not happened. I have had nothing but encouragement- except for one asshat that laughed at my TM goal.) There are some things I am pretty good at. There are lots of things that scare the crap out of me. I have one bad knee- and I live in constant fear of having to use crutches again. I started out wearing big baggy clothes to the gym. Then, I realized that compression gear- made working out so much more comfortable. So, now I wear form-fitting gear- and fuck em if they don’t like it.

I am fat. I am working pretty hard to change it. I have good weeks and bad weeks. I still struggle with the whole thing frequently. I get nervous when people point out that they can tell I am losing weight. The most important thing for me- is I am trying. I am trying to be healthy. I am trying to get stronger. You, see… I was wrong. I don’t want to be thin. I am never going to be 5’8 and a blonde bombshell. I am going to be me. I am pretty fucking fantastic. I am okay with that. And, when I earn my orange headband… I am going to celebrate it. So, with the help of both new and old friends- I totally got this.

Frankly My Dear, I Don’t Give a Damn about My Bad Reputation

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

I was never a feminist. I found the fight for equal pay and affirmative action boring and distasteful. I did not want to admit that women are held to a different standard than men. I honestly believed that the world was fair, and that in The United States- everyone had the same shot. Also, I had a negative mental image of what I imagine a militant feminist to be.

However, I googled the term. It is simply a theory of political, social, and economic equality between the sexes. Turns out, it has nothing to do with refusing to shave your underarms. I recently figured out that my status as a woman- more specifically, a young woman is actually acting against me in my professional life. Now, throw another wrench into the mess. I am a fat, single mother, who happens to be… just a nurse practitioner.

Yes. You heard me right. I am NOT a doctor. I did not go to medical school. I never wore the short white coat. Believe me, I kick myself on a regular basis for not achieving this level of education. I find it appalling that I did not graduate from college until I was 27 years old. I am horrified by the fact that I have to take medication to slow my thoughts down enough that I can focus on the task at hand. People assume that they can tear me down, and I assure you- I have torn myself to pieces for years, and there is nothing they can say that shocks me- or even worse, that I have not said to myself.

Apparently, in the eyes of some folks, I also happen to have been born without a very important appendage. A penis.

I must have missed school on the day that they taught charm. Apparently, I am an abrasive bitch who has the audacity to speak her mind- even if it differs from the man standing in front of me. I have had physicians completely ignore me and seek the counsel of the nearest man standing. Never mind that I actually knew what I was talking about.

Oh, no. She forgot her penis. She must not have anything valuable to add. Let us forget the fact that I have made it my mission to learn and remember what each of the physicians I work for expect and prefer when it comes to patient care. I have to switch back and forth every week- all depending on who is in the unit that week. It is maddening.

I am left to wonder how a woman can possibly be expected to sound confident, yet remain demure. I perhaps come across as mercurial. Difficult to manage. Disruptive. However, I would like to point out that I am frequently the one who is focusing on the minutia of the moment. I do have a flaw. I am absolutely unable to fulfill my duties as a sycophant. I struggle with being quiet when I see information that does not appear to be on the table. I struggle with not asking “why?” when I do not understand the plan of care. I fear that this could be seen as insubordination, when in all actuality- I am seeking knowledge to facilitate stronger clinical skills on my part.

My role is often quite hermetic. The isolation of being the only person in a particular role within a large group of healthcare providers is profound. I am not one of the doctors. I am also not one of the nurses. I no longer work in MICU, however, I am only in the office sometimes. I am simply an object that is passed around. Passed to whichever nurse or medical assistant gets stuck with me. I am frequently an afterthought- or an inconvenience that must be dealt with. I think that I felt adrift. Cast out. So, I inadvertently sought to find a place of familiarity. A lighter, easier tone. I needed some of the formalities to lighten up. I needed a level playing field. That was a mistake. Through my attempts to cope with a difficult situation- I unintentionally diminished the professional courtesy that my superiors had earned.

I frequently have nurses choose not to speak to me or answer if I ask a question. I have overheard people say “Oh, Nyki ordered that- not the doctor. That is why I did not do it.” There is a nurse manager who frequently berates me and demands explanations for things that are quite simply beyond my control. She finds it appropriate to speak of our team in disparaging tones anytime they are out of earshot. It is funny, I worked for her for over 7 years- and yet, I have ridden up the elevator with her on more than one occasion with her glaring at me in stony silence.

I should have known there was going to be trouble even before I started. I had been warned. There were so many people who doubted my ability to succeed in this role in this Multidisciplinary team. I did not know that many people viewed my role as that of a scribe. I have actually been told on more than one occasion that is essentially what I am. I sincerely believed that if I read enough, and tried to adapt to each individuals preferences that I could overcome these obstacles. I honestly thought I would earn their respect. I simply wanted to be viewed as a competent healthcare provider- who was well aware of her limitations. I was not prepared for the incongruous actions of displaying both competent and “humble” attitudes.

Another interesting caveat of my “mid-level” role… I am torn between the need to shield the doctors I work for from mundane tasks, and trivial matters, while also acting as the easy to approach friend of the nurses. I never gave it much thought until I realized that I was being attacked on all fronts. I think the moment of clarity was when I was asked if I felt betrayed. My initial response was no. That had not occurred to me. Until I realized that perhaps I had been betrayed. Set up. Essentially lied about. Okay, perhaps not lies… but, exaggerations. Which has left me in the position that I cannot defend myself. Because I am not perfect. I am high-strung. I do talk over people sometimes. I get excited. I am so sorry that I am passionate about my job.

I should have known that stepping into a different role with my former employers would be difficult. I think I underestimated my abilities to charm the serpents. My inability to have a candid conversation with the majority of people with whom I work for and with has left me without an anchor. I am quite simply afraid now. I fear that will inhibit my ability to act as a patient advocate. It is funny, writing this was supposed to get me all fired up and ready to hop on a feminist band wagon. I am afraid it is doing the opposite. Perhaps the master manipulator was right. I am not the right person for this job. I actually kinda think there is no right person for this job. I do not know how one person can bend and live up to every single fucking person on earth’s expectations. Don’t forget, it is not only how well you do your job… it is also based on whether or not each person happens to like your personality.

I never dreamed that it would be a crime to be outspoken. Never in my wildest imagination did I envision being told to be quiet. I was raised in a time that outspoken, strong-willed women were all the rage. Remember the song Bitch? It was an anthem for young girls like me. And, now… I am faced with a choice. Be a sycophant or lose my livelihood. No. It is just not fair.

How does a woman earn the respect of her male counterparts? How do I influence the world and leave my mark- if I am being hushed? Is it a crime to want your ideas to be spoken? How do I succeed when it seems that no one in the world wants me to? Do I have to trade companionship and camaraderie for professional accolades? It’s true. You really can’t have it all.

 

Waiting

~ ladyquirky ~ 2 Comments

You have all heard the romantic tale of The Message in the Bottle. A woman finds the most wonderful man- the man to ease her troubled history- and he has his own demons that she manages to quell for a moment. And then, all hell breaks loose when he is trying to say good-bye to his dead wife. And, all the woman is left with is the memory of the man- the man who made her a better person. The man who showed her how to love. (Excuse me while I go barf somewhere).

I am one of those unfortunate souls who loves a good romance. I have fallen for the scheme- hook, line, and sinker. I want the fairy tale. A knight in shining armor who needs me as much as I need him. The man who will never forget my birthday. The man who would rather hurl himself onto a bed of hot coals than to cause me a moment of distress.

Let me tell ya ladies, I have never met anyone who met this guy. Apparently, there is no perfect man. You want to know something else? There is no perfect woman either. We have filled our heads and hearts with these completely quixotic notions. (by the way- I love that word. I never finished the book… but, that word seems to sum up all of my fabulous plans). Time to stop tilting at windmills. Stop looking for dragons to slay- and magic unicorns to carry us and our prince off into the sunset.

The inevitability of disappointment is hard to avoid as long as we keep up these fantasies. I am a total sucker for a good hero. Especially one who manages to get the girl in the end. I would be lying if I led you to believe that I did not harbor very sincere hopes of being that girl.

I know I talk a lot about waiting. I am constantly waiting. I no longer know what I am waiting for. When I was younger, it had a lot to do with my body. I was waiting until I was 5’8 and 110 pounds, with long flowing blonde hair. Oh, and I had perfect breasts too. WTH? That makes no sense. For one thing- I am 5’5- well, I am probably really 5’4… but, that is not the point. I am also never going to be 110 pounds. I would look odd if that did happen. Oh, and I am a brunette… and my hairdresser steadfastly refuses to ever bleach my hair again. So, now that we have determined that none of these feats of amazingness are ever going to happen… what am I waiting for?

I found an old journal. It spans about 8 years of my 20s. There are some happy parts. There is a lot of delusional wishful thinking about men. And, there is a lot of heartbreak. And, once again- there is a lot of waiting. Waiting. Hoping. Wishing. Not a lot of DOING. Now, obviously, there was some doing. I graduated from college. Started Grad school- Finished grad school. But, I still felt like there was something I was forgetting. This is a very real struggle for me. Is it actually possible that I am waiting for a man- STILL?

Now, keep in mind- I like to tell myself that I don’t need a man. No, I can be the master of my own life, thank you very much. Let’s be real though. I think that humans are programmed to want a partner. Maybe not all of them, but, there seems to be an evolutionary, biological need to share your life with someone. Even a can of soup holds two servings. Everything in life seems geared towards people having a significant other to do things with.

Now, I have heard the fables of the extraordinary women who live full lives and are perfectly content to be alone. I try to convince myself that I am one of those women. I AM NOT! This is a lie. Now, I am not willing to settle down with whatever loser I can find that needs a place to live. Someone who wants to mooch off me. Believe me, I see women do that every day. However, how do you express a desire to find someone without putting off a desperate vibe?

So, the crux of the situation is this. How do you be honest about what is missing from your life- without searching and driving yourself mad with the impatience of your heart? How do you find a way to be honest about what you want- while not allowing people to take advantage of your heart? Furthermore, why are so many people willing to play on your desires- and take advantage of your lonely heart? All in the name of a folly or distraction? Why are so many people liars? I do not have the necessary skill set for bullshit. I am really confused by all of this.

You would think that a woman of my advanced age- remember the definition of spinster from earlier post- would have it more together. I have read the romance novels, the Cosmo magazines, and watch all the romantic comedies. I have changed my expectations- (I no longer think that Robert Redford or Dave Grohl are secretly waiting to meet me.- or their younger twin…) In fact, I have plainly stated that I am open to anyone who is a nice, smart, educated person. Perhaps that is the problem. I have not defined what I want in a man. How do you do that? Make a list? Draw a picture on an etch-a-sketch? (yes, I know that is from She’s Come Undone- great book, don’t ya think?) Seriously, what is the deal?

So, in light of the fact that I have found no answers- despite all my literary research, I am going to start living life looking for adventure. I am going to do this Tough Mudder. I am going to learn to run. I am going to continue boxing. I may not have figured out how to get a man…. but, I think I am beginning to understand how to seek out new challenges. Perhaps I do not need a man to help me push myself. Perhaps, I can be my own hero. And, maybe… just maybe… I can rescue myself.

Elves and Other Untrustworthy Folk

~ ladyquirky ~ 2 Comments

Okay… before I start sounding like a jilted lover… I never even met this man. We were simply “talking.” For hours on end- repeatedly. I should have seen the signs, I should have known better- but, in my usual fashion— I allowed myself to become hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, this guy could be The ONE! Giddy giggle, cough, choke, laugh. Then, he posted on Facebook that he was in a relationship. Okay. No problem. I get it. I had nothing invested in this relationship- barring the $1.29 I spent on iTunes to buy Walking on Sunshine- Just because it seemed fitting.

Ugh. Then, about a week later- he called. Full of complaints about this new girl. His complaints were so similar to the complaints I have voiced so often in the past. I commiserated- and he kept repeating that he and I would be perfect together- Heck, I should move to this other state- (Where there is a disproportionate number of people of the Mormon faith). Then, the next day on FB- he was gushing about this woman- the love of his life. I deleted his phone number and unfollowed him on FB. Now, I only checked it when someone reached out to make sure I was “okay.”

Then, tonight- he has apparently proposed. ???? WHAT???? Are you kidding me? You have known this woman for all of five minutes. And, you “Know” she is the one? WOW! So, I call my usual suspects- who happen to know this fella- to inquire about his confusing frame of mind. I am not sad. Remember, I do not know this man- However, I am bewildered. Embarrassed. Shocked. Most importantly, I am dying to lash out and say something snarky to this dude. However, as a professional, adult woman in her mid-30s, I would NEVER do something like that.

So, I am relating this embarrassing tale with the knowledge that no self-respecting woman would give this another moment of her time. Well, I have not always had this much self- respect. It is entirely too easy for me to have lapses of judgment, and to participate in my youthful ways. You know, rush heart first into every new relationship- err, rather date.. with the intention of “making it work.” Just knowing that the man of my dreams was sure to swoop in and rescue me from the entirely too scary fate of becoming a spinster. HA! Oops, I messed that one up. Guess who is most likely a spinster? Yep, you got it. Me.

According to the handy-dandy dictionary App on my iPhone- A spinster is: An unmarried woman who is past the usual age for marrying and is considered unlikely to marry. Oh, my. What is the usual age for marriage- let me google that. According to the first site I opened- (that is the best way to get accurate information- this is wisegeek.org), the current usual age for marrying in the US is 25.1 years. Eek! I am almost 10 years too late. Not sure if this qualifies me for spinsterhood, but- it might be close enough to cause me alarm. To make me lose a little sleep at night. Yes, I may be overreacting, however… I am somewhat concerned. Maybe I am too picky. Maybe I am too undesirable. Maybe I am too… Me. The crazy cats (yes, it’s plural- no, there are not 10 of them… yet).

Women today are expected to have it all. The perfect body, the perfect career, great hobbies, wonderful friends, and an awesome husband. Oh, and a gaggle of perfect children with a plethora of amazing talents. She must devote time to charity, be civic-minded, and always stay calm. Organic Paleo cooking- stand by your man, and all that crap. I am obviously not up to muster in the womanhood department. I do not know how to walk in heels. My clothes rarely complete an outfit. I am too loud. My hair is usually a mess. I am still terrified of the eyelash curler. How on earth does one do a smokey eye anyway? My car is always a mess. Heck, I am not sure how I manage to make it through everyday in the state I am in.

Now, of course I do not actually expect any other woman to live up to my standards… No, we girls need to give ourselves a break- and love who we are. Celebrate our curves- let our voices be heard. But, late at night… when I am all alone, and once again assessing who I am as a woman- I have a sense of failure. Why are we taught from a young age that we need to get a man, keep a man, and then raise a man? (I am helping to raise a man, with the wonderful assistance of my family- and he is perfect and talented- not to mention- absolutely too handsome for words).

This is all ridiculous. I find it appalling that I hold myself to standards that are so outdated. Why do I need a man to complete me? Thanks for that Jerry Maguire. I have spent the last almost 20 years searching for a hapless, secretly wonderfully flawed man to find me and love me. ugh. I seriously think this is why I am attracted to guys who are a mess. Surely, they will accept me for me. (On a side note- I have a seriously mentally ill cat who is determined to destroy my house.) Where is the love that I am supposed to be lavishing on myself? Where is the amazing sense of accomplishment that losing weight and having a career should be affording me? Why am I still waiting? More importantly- what am I waiting for? It’s like the U2 song- “And I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” You know what? I still haven’t figured out what to look for.

Which brings me to my next issue. We have all heard the saying- “You will find him when you stop looking.” Well, if you are not looking, how do you know you have found it? What, exactly is it? A companion? Someone who makes you scream in the sack? A protector? A provider? A friend? I want a beau. I want to be wooed. Just like Mr. Darcy woos Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice. Please let a man look at me like that. Please. Let someone crave my company. Let him want to share his stories with me. Let him think of me at random times through the day- and just send me a little emoticon. Seriously. I do not want much. I just want someone to share my life with. I want to be challenged. I do not want to be lied to. I do not want to be placated. All of these romantic stories must have started somewhere. I mean, have you read Nicholas Sparks???? Do these men even exist? Until I manage to find this man- I am better off alone- away from the elves and other untrustworthy folk.

Happy Holidays to You! And the Damn Flu!

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

Ok. Yep. The title sounds a little angsty. That would be because I am sick! I have been sick with the flu for the past week. No working. No working out. Simply going from the bed to the couch all week. I am lonely and tired. I have a Tough Mudder to train for.

Monday- I puked all over my boxing hand wraps. Yes. It has been a tough week.