Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.  Blah, Blah, Blah.  I despise gender generalizations, but like any generalization, there is usually some truth behind it. 

Take, for example, “compartmentalizing”.  I’ve known so many men over the years who are experts at packing their feelings into small boxes and shoving them deep down into their man caves.  I’ve known a few women who could do it, but not many.  I am not one of them.  In terms of compartmentalizing feelings, I am a proud failure.  Can’t do it; don’t want to. 

My husband’s an expert at it.  But this blog post is not about him. 

I seem to spend a lot of time with people who excel in repressing things, or asking me to do the same.  Even the men I’ve known who were good communicators could shut off unpleasant parts of their lives and continue on.  Sometimes those boxes would blow up - a little gunpowder in the mailbox, so to speak.  Usually, they didn’t.  This is how a few men I’ve known well have been able to date multiple women at the same time, all the while feeling love for each of them in their own way.  I’m sure some women can do that, but back in the day, those women were called sluts. 

I’ve been looking hard at myself.  I’m extremely (unhealthily) critical of myself.  I realize this.  Sometimes it is hard to pull yourself up from the bad feelings and force focus on the better things within yourself.  Most of the time, I can’t do it.  It’s a work in progress.  Occasionally I find something about myself that is perceived as a weakness or something worse; I am shocked to find that as I think about it, I am proud of the so-called failing. 

I am proud of my inability to not separate myself into small pieces.  If you are around me, you get the good, the bad, and a lot of the ugly.  I am an excellent friend and always have been.  I will put myself out there for the people I love and do just about anything I can; lately, though, it hasn’t been returned.  In some notable cases, I have been asked to ignore or forget some part of who I am in order for the greater good to survive.  Our marriage counselor actually told me life’s goal is to transcend the ego.  I’m not sure I want to transcend the ego. If that makes me a bad person, so be it.  While I like Mother Theresa, I’ve never wanted to be exactly like her.  Like most humans, I am flawed and inherently selfish.  I also am terrible - absolutely horrific - at hiding my feelings or pretending something is different than the way it is.

I wonder how much energy it takes people to wrap those pretty packages.  I wonder what the motivation to do so is.  I am frustrated with the shiny veneer of some of my friends.  Why bother?  Why even attempt to be good friends with someone if you are only going to show them the image you think they may want to see?  It’s exhausting to me to be around it; it has to be tiring to be the one doing it. 

I recently tweeted this question:  “Have any of you thought of closing your account?  If so, why?”  Funny that many people had thought of it.  A few had even done it, then come back under a different name so they could be full-on open without fear of discovery.  My reasons for considering closing mine are fairly simple.

I have met a ton of amazing people through Twitter.  I’ve been able to build business, form solid “real” relationships, and entertain myself on days when nothing could hold my interest.  There are also a lot of packaged and processed people there, like anywhere.  For me, I have a better crap detector when I meet someone face to face or see them interacting.  There is a lot of interaction on Twitter, if it’s done right - but very often people’s Twitter persona is so completely different.  It’s like playing dress-up on the interact. 

The same could be said about me, I suppose.  I’m probably much more likable behind 140 characters with a snarky sense of humor.  However, I have never been told I’m different than I appear online.  This is because I have no compartments, no barriers, and no walls.  This means I get hurt, and frequently.  Still, I keep on chugging.  I like this part of me.  In a body where many parts are disliked, even despised, I’ll take the parts I can live with any day. 

Richmond Presents ran a story on local area bloggers.  Not only did they showcase some of the best blogs in Richmond, they have me on the list as well.  Not sure how that happened - maybe because I paid the author?  (kidding!)  Some of my personal faves are on the list, including The Checkout Girl, Fiction Matters, Matt on Fire and Cafe Darkness.  If you want the links, check out the full article. 

I’ve been trying very hard to focus on my writing - all forms of it - and this blog has definitely run the gamut of “pain in the butt” to “thank god I have somewhere to write this stuff down”.  As the children have gotten older, I no longer focus so much on them.  This is primarily because I don’t want to invade their privacy. Eventually their classmates will find out about the internet, and may find this blog, so I don’t want pictures of them doing silly things. I’m already embarrassing enough without the blog to them. 

Amazingly enough, the worst year of my life has brought forth the best writing period too.  I’ve been fortunate enough to meet some amazing writers along the way, like Jason Kenney, TCG, Bradley (owner of Fiction Matters - see above), Trevor Dickerson (mayor of Short Pump) and many others.  Having them in my life is a constant reminder to keep on doing what I love, and hopefully become more proficient at the craft. 

I’m going to post my thoughts on NaNoWriMo at some point; I’m still burned out and I have WriteClubRVA tonight.  Speaking of, Trevor launched the website - there is actual information on it!

*By the way, someone thought my post about completing NaNoWriMo meant I had won the entire thing.  It’s a not a writing competition; anyone who gets to 50,000 words in 30 days is a winner.  It’s not a small task and I congratulate anyone who undertook the challenge, and especially those who met their goal. 

I’m participating in NaNoWriMo this year.  I’m a NaNoWriMo virgin, but I’m excited and I’m already 5,000 words in to my 50,000 in the month of November. I’m telling you this because it’s going to be a little, well, quiet around this here blog.  And yes, I know I’m delinquent posting adorable Halloween pics.  Sometime today, I promise.  I think. 

#WriteClubRVA is tonight, so maybe not . . .

I’m reading a book my therapist recommended. It’s by Lynette Triere with Richard Peacock and it’s called “Learning to Leave”.  It sounds more negative than it really is - it’s really an explanation of what women go through during a separation, divorce or reconciliation.  These two paragraphs really struck a chord with me:

...for many couples, it is not a question of finding new solutions to a building list of conflicts.  With some women and men, there is a fundamental difference in life goals, ways of communicating, belief systems, rhythms of living, temperment, and concepts of pleasure.  Faced with such basic incompatibility, women are now breaking out of their more common conservative roles and have become more frequently the initiators of divorce. 

But this realization is usually not an immediate one and the decision to leave is rarely hasty.  The very idea of divorce is so radical that some women refuse to even consider it at first.  In fact, stages of awareness can be outlined in the average movement of a woman toward leaving a relationship.  First, many women report that they only “subconsciously” felt the stirrings to leave, that these feelings would never be articulated even to themselves.  A surprising number have said that they harbored the secret for five years or longer before moving to the next stage of privately but deliberately thinking about leaving.  These thoughts might take the form of fantasy, the dream of living in another place alone or with another person, the desire to break out into a new style of living, the pursuit of a challenging career, perhaps a passion for travel.  This stage can be a consuming one.  A few women get stuck at this point and become permanent daydreamers.  But most will move on to relate their desires to a close friend, often a sympathetic woman who has experienced a similar situation.  They may at this stage seek out a professional therapist to confide in, or take the bolder step of seeking an attorney.

Not sure I agree with classifying seeking an attorney as a “bolder” step - it seems to me a premature step.  It’s also unfortunate that I am not alone in having been unable to express my true feelings firstly to myself, and then to my husband.  Had I been able to do that 36 months ago, we might be in a different place today. 

My goal set during Write Club RVA was to continue to blog through this haze and fog, and not shy away from the truth.  It’s very hard at times (like right now) to really find the strength to express my feelings in a way that others can understand. 

That being said, today has been hard.  I wish my medication would work, dammit, and work fast.  I know better than to expect it to erase all the pain and uncertainty and general angst I feel inside, but feeling hopeless day after day is pretty much a complete and total drag.  I even sat outside in the sun this afternoon soaking up some Vitamin D in the hopes it would snap me out of this horrible nightmare I can’t wake from. 

At some point, you have to start telling your friends and family you are fine, even when you don’t feel fine.  No one wants to hear, “I’m the same brand of shitty I was yesterday” day after day.  It’s depressing and boring.  I’m certain Mike feels the same way, though he puts on a good front for me - which is yet another example of why he’s a much better person than me.  He still worries about me, even though I’m in the process of dismantling and analyzing our life together that he thought was very solid.  I’ve made everything creaky and decayed with my words, and it’s an unsettling place to be - for both of us.  I do try to focus on my high moments:  pilates this morning, with sweat pouring off me, erasing any other thought than holding myself up on an elbow.  Arden’s face as she walked toward my car.  Cuddling with Arden, and stroking her hair.  Watching Lily drawing this afternoon.  Meeting a friend for a dinner in Carytown. 

In between those moments, I swing wildly between “WHAT AM I DOING?  I’m a horrible mother and wife” and “GET ME OUT. GET ME OUT.  GET ME OUT.”  Par for the course for me, there are no gray thoughts.  Perhaps that’s why I’ve been buying a lot of gray clothes lately - it’s a visceral reminder that there is such a color, and it’s not a bad place to live. 

On a happier note, I finally narrowed down my NaNoWriMo topics to two, and I’m going to force myself to pick one tonight.  Hopefully this weekend will get me working on the outline.  It’s been interesting to note that anything other than blogging has been impossible for me to write - my brain can only process my reality.  Fiction is a tall order these days. 

It’s already 10.15pm and my eye is twitching.  It does that when I’m either nervous or tired.  In this case I was a little of both, but thankfully my twitch went away when I was actually speaking. 

According to @trevordickerson, 17 people showed up tonight, and I was personally very thrilled that so many people had no life couldn’t wait to get out on a Monday night and talk about writing.  At the next meeting, in two weeks, we’re actually going to DO some writing. 

The website is live, but still in its infancy.  Considering the software and hosting is being donated by Matt Walters, design and layout is being done on an “when I have time to do it” by Jason Kenney and Trevor Dickerson, and I’m populating most of the content while having no idea what I’m doing on Wordpress, it might be a few weeks before it all comes together.  PS.  If you are considering setting up a WordPress blog or using it as a CMS and need a developer, you should totally give Matt your business because he’s super nice to groups with no money like us, and because he really knows his stuff.  PPS.  If you are a writer in Richmond and missed tonight’s meeting, you should never do that again. 

If you are on Twitter, you can now officially follow @WriteClubRVA. The hashtag is still being used if you prefer to search that way (#writeclubrva). 

I posted about tonight here as well. 

For once, I’m not being at all sarcastic when I say how moved and excited I was with both the turnout and the quality of writers.  As we shouted across the table at the very loud Capital Ale House, I realized how much of a diverse background we brought to each other.  Many of us are participating in NaNoWriMo, and planning to use each other to help us with our weak spots.  My weak spots are many, so I’m looking forward to having my writing ripped to shreds by knowledgeable people. 

Selfishly, it was entirely gratifying to see something I’ve only dreamed about actually happen.  Especially at this point in my life, when it’s so easy to get caught up in the negative.  Yes, I realize that is a fragmented sentence, but I think it works in this context.  It felt so good to focus on something positive, something I’m passionate about - something that helps me turn the pain and the terror and sadness inside me into something worthwhile.  At least, that’s the goal.