self analysis reveals ... i have issues. surprise!

Well, it happened again.  I vowed to write more often.  And then I didn’t.  No excuse really.  Just busy and not enough hours in the day. There are so many hilarious stories I would love to share.  But I have a line that I cannot cross.  I never want to make friends or coworkers appear unprofessional, or potentially get someone in trouble with their company – or their company in trouble.  So, no work stories.  And trust me, the world is not a better place for this.  Because some of the stuff that I witness – it’s hilarious.  And horribly inappropriate on so many levels.

So where does that leave me?  Feeling at a bit of a loss.  I could write plenty of things.  I’ve started several post ideas in my head.  But all of them always end up toward the serious, and maybe a little bit heavy.  And that’s not usually what I do.  So I haven’t decided if I should go there or not.  But since I, much like Simba, laugh in the face of danger, I’m gonna run with it and see what happens.  This is what happens when I turn my brain loose to ramble untethered … don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I lurk among the halls of FB way too much.  And I am judgy.  Oh, so very judgy.  I don’t get the people that complain about being so broke, so behind on bills, so poor … yet they are posting pics from a vacation, or showing off the new phone/tv/gaming system/CAR they just got.  Really?  If you are so broke you can’t afford food, then somehow I doubt you can afford a week at the beach in an exotic locale, or a new SUV, or that giant plasma screen.  So – where’s the lie?  Are they really not that broke and just wanting to bitch and moan about nothing?  Or are they really that broke and digging themselves into a larger, deeper, more ridiculous hole by continuing to leave WAY above their means?  Did they win the trip or get an inheritance from a tragic loss or cash in a savings bond?  Does it matter?  And more importantly, why do I care?  Why does it make me so mad when it has zero impact on my life?

We spent the day at my father’s house on Sunday.  One of my most traumatic memories as a kid is of him holding me in the pool, counting to three, and then dunking me under the water.  To this day I hate going underwater.  I hate water on my face.  I have water ISSUES.  Seriously.  I can’t even watch Deadliest Catch without almost hyperventilating.  Yet, there we were, in the pool, with my Minion.  A Minion who seemingly proves that water issues are passed via DNA because he hates having his face wet and freaks at the idea of going under.  I try really hard to shield him from my water issues so that he doesn’t have them because of me.  I go out of my way to show him that I love water.  I am happy in the water.  I am practically sprouting gills in front of the kid.  But there he is having a Major Meltdown over water.  And I found myself telling my father – the man who dunked and traumatized me in my memory – that we should just go ahead and dunk him and get it over with.  Really?  What does that even mean?

It should be noted that POF did in fact hold The Minion and dunk him.  And he freaked for about ten seconds and then he was fine.  In fact, he was better than fine.  After that he willingly used the swim ring, and happily dog paddled around without assistance.

I am not a drinker.  I just really don’t like the taste.  And I am one of those rare birds that doesn’t really get the warm fuzzy from it.  I am stone cold sober and then puking in a bush.  There is no in-between.  So, drinking really doesn’t appeal to me.  But it was a holiday weekend and I decided to be wild and out of control.  Ha.  So, I had two drinks at my dad’s house.  I tried one of those strawberry margarita beer drinks and it was not bad.  Beer is repulsive to me, so this was progress.  Then I consumed a frozen Parrot Bay pina colada thingy.  It too was tasty.  There was no warm fuzzy, but there was also no regurgitation, so I consider this a success.  And my father was beyond pleased that I kicked back and had a drink.  The man was elated.  Giddy even.  Somewhere, there is something fundamentally wrong with that I think. 

But seriously, the man was happy.  With me.  And all it took was consuming a couple of alcoholic beverages.  For those that know me and the long rocky relationship with my father, this is hilarious.  Me chugging a six pack with the man could have saved YEARS of angst.

I have a slew of friends on Facebook that I really don’t interact with.  But there are a few that I have reconnected with and it’s been wonderful.  This past weekend, I actually hung out with one of them.  We went to elementary school together, but haven’t seen each other really since about sophomore year of high school.  That, my friends, is a long damn time.  And it was awesome.  It was like no time had passed.  She was every bit as funny and kind and cool as I remembered.  But a lot of time had passed, and a lot of things about us had changed.  We didn’t dwell on the bad, and she spoke of her things in passing without a lot of detail.

And I realized something.  I had no idea.  I saw her in the halls.  I talked to her.  I considered her a friend.  And yet, I really didn’t know her at all.  And that got me thinking.  Would I have done anything different if I had known some of those things back then?  Would I have tried harder to stay in touch with her? Would I have tried to help?  Would it have made me not want to be her friend?  Should I have noticed these things?  Should I have seen signs?  Should I have been a better friend?

I don’t know.  I was a teenager too, with my own host of problems and ordeals to go through.  I was too wrapped up in my own stuff to really notice anyone else’s stuff.  I just recently realized that I pretty much spent the years between junior year of high school and senior year of college on autopilot, with pretty much a total emotional disconnect.  I have memories, but they are vague and fragmented.  I went through the motions.  I played the part.  But I was totally closed off.  No one got in.  No one really knew what was in my head.  Not even my best friend at the time.  I don’t know why.  I mean, I know reasons.  But in the grand scheme of things – compared to what my friend dealt with – I had it pretty perfect. 

So what was my deal?  Why was I so closed off?  Why do I have huge gaps of just nothing at all in my memory?  Why did I go through most of college on total emotional lockdown, going to class, going through the motions, but not really being engaged with the world?  I have no idea.  It bothers me sometimes.  I honestly do not really remember most of college.  I pretty much went to class and nothing else.  I didn’t do activities or engage in groups and stuff?  None of those strong bonds for life that people talk about.  The only connection I have from college is my roommate from my first year.  One person.  That is not normal.  And I was 100 percent sober.  No drugs or alcohol for this girl.  So, WTF?  It baffles me.

I can distinctly remember one thing from my junior year.  That was the last year I did color guard with the band.  Guard was something that I enjoyed doing.  Something I loved even.  But I can remember that year, going to games and just not really being there -  in the reality of it.  Doing preshow stuff, going into the bleachers, curling up under the pressbox and just zoning out.  I wasn’t really asleep.  But I was also not really conscious.  I was aware enough to get moving when it was time to go down and get set for the half time show.  And I performed.  Then I came off that field and went back to the stands and zoned out again until the game was over.  And I have no idea why.  Social interaction in a group like that has never been my strong suit, but I just had zero ability to interact with the world at that point in time.  It kinda freaks me out if I dwell on it.

I also realized that I have never been a group person.  I never wanted to be a part of a group.  I mean, in my head, sometimes, it would be nice to have that big group of girlfriends to do stuff with.  But the actual mechanics of that is just beyond me.  I am more of a one on one kind of girl.  I can go through my school years and pretty much name the one friend from each year.  Some over a couple of years, but for the most part it was always one friend at a time.  And there was never really any specific reason that we stopped being friends.  Just growing up, finding other interests, moving apart.  No big falling out or dramatic scenes.  Just life.

I wonder sometimes if I should have clung harder to some of those friendships.  Made more effort to stay connected as time moved on.  Or if that is just the natural progression of things.  Like the ebb and flow of the tide.  People pass in and out of your life when you are in need of them, and they of you.  Is it really that simple to explain?

I do know that I have reconnected with two friends from my elementary school days.  Friends that I loved dearly as a kid, made fantastic memories with for a while, and then drifted away from slowly over time.  Finding them again has been wonderful.  Sharing our journeys from then to now, the ups and downs and all the in-betweens.  Watching our kids play together.  Finding new common ground.  Building a new friendship as adults.  Appreciating the memories we have together and how we have changed in so many ways yet still have so much in common.

I have a small circle of friends.  And for the most part they never really share the same space at the same time.  I am still very much a one friend at a time kind of girl.  But I am working on it, getting better at being in a group.  And I love bringing some of the old friendships back into that circle.  Still one at a time, but eventually, maybe, as a group.  If I can manage it.  Baby steps.