I’ve become a master at the mask.
It’s not a mask to hide treachery,
or a mask to hide true intentions.
But it does hide the truth.

It does hide the sneer when I change my clothes.
The fat, everywhere, spilling all around me.
Choking me, hiding me, keeping me from being.
It swallows me whole and buries me alive.

It does hide the ambivalence when I look in the mirror.
The too big nose, the freckles multiplying year by year.
The missing tooth that shames my grin into a tight-lipped smile.
The double chin, proof my face is next in the adipose quicksand.

It does hide the shame that I am unemployed.
No contribution, to society or family.
No longer a provider, only a consumer,
Taking more than I give; security a thing of the past.

It does hide the fear that I won’t make it in school.
That something will happen to keep me from finishing,
Meaning no more steps in my quest toward higher education.
Or that I just won’t measure up to the A standards I set for myself.

It does hide the anger…oh, the anger, like a live thing inside me.
It writhes and grows and taints everything I, even inadvertently, allow it to touch.
It slithers around the corners of my mind and heart and soul and eats up the pure,
Leaving its bitter trails to taunt my spirit…but it also cloaks the hurt.

It does hide the inadequacy. Too much of this, not enough of that.
I’m not worth the effort it takes to be true to word.
I’m not valuable enough to do the right thing.
And I’m too much to handle-much too demanding and pushy and proud.

It does hide the pain…the sheer destruction that trusting people has brought to my soul.
The deserted shell of my heart, wind howling through the cracked and shattered windows,
Dust and tumbleweeds, shattered dreams, unkept promises; they’re all the same.
Just reminders of why retreat beats surrender in the war with the world.

It does shield the ones I love from the truth…the ugly truth.
Ugly outside, ugly inside. Not good enough, strong enough.
Not pretty enough, not fun enough, not smart enough.
Not valued. Not honored. Not worthy. Not anything.

But the mask? It doesn’t hide anything from me.

*I closed comments on this post. I know my friends disagree with much of what I just wrote. I’m glad you do, because you wouldn’t be much interested in being my friend if you did agree. But that doesn’t change that I feel like this about MYSELF, right now. I haven’t always, and I won’t always, I’m sure. But right now, this is what is inside me. Sometimes it’s hard to hear the positive comments when you are just trying to be real.

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So, I fucked up royally at work and lost my job. I don’t want to talk about what or why or how, and some of those questions I couldn’t answer anyway because I just don’t know…let it lie with I screwed up, and the natural consequences of that suck, but are necessary, and deserved.

I’m actually relieved. I haven’t been effective for months. And the guilt and pressure of KNOWING I was falling short of not only what others expected from me, but what I expected from myself, was like a concrete block tied to my ankle as I sank deeper and deeper into the mess I created.

So, that’s over. People are disappointed in me; I am disappointed in myself…..but it’s over. Now that I am jobless, I will qualify for medical coverage and I can see a therapist, which I have desperately needed for at least all of 2010. The irony that I couldn’t get help that may have saved my job *because* I had a job is not lost on me.

Like anyone, my next thought was, what do I do now?

I spent a bit of time job hunting, getting a resume sorted, etc. And when I did not get the job I was most interested in, I realized that my options are severely limited in my county, which has the highest unemployment rate in the state, and with my educational background. After much thought and prayer and discussion, the next step was decided.

I’m going back to school. I have 22 credits. An A in every class I’ve completed except one B, that *should* be an A because it was a 90, but the damn professor died before I could discuss my grade with him. Fucker. (I’m not that big of an asshole..just trying to breathe some levity into the situation.) But, I also have LOTS of F’s because I kept dropping out when I was younger, and though I have two fantastic terms in 2008, when the Fall term began, it was just a month in when the troubles with Christian began. I was missing classes every week…for court, or lawyer appointments, or Juvenile Justice meetings, or psychological evaluations, or school conferences, and so forth and so on. So I dropped out again. I didn’t know until last week that I could have asked the Dean to grant me late withdrawals. So, yet another round of F’s on my transcript.

Only this time, I was already on a financial aid and academic suspension appeal, so I was actually dismissed from the school for the spring term.

This decision was made less than a week before summer term started. I felt like the chances of getting both re-appeals approved AT ALL were slim, much less in under a week, when everyone and their sister is scrambling to get things sorted for their own registration. So I went up to North Campus in Brooksville with a folder crammed with an inch thick pile of documentation of ‘The Trouble,” some samples of my papers, two appeal letters pleading my case, and a heavy heart. Five or six hours and one run home to get my ’08 tax return, and I walked out with two approved appeals, a Pell Grant, part time classes for summer and two textbooks. Providing that I do well in these two classes, I can go full time in the Fall.

I’m a student again. I can’t hardly believe it! I should be graduating PHCC with my AA in May of 2011. And then on to my BA.

And in the meantime, I will be developing a business idea I have had for over a year now.

PS As much as I have bitched about Brian’s lack of responsibility for this family in the past, I want to make it clear that I couldn’t do this now if it weren’t for him. It’s hard to depend on him, as that never panned out well when we were married. But to be fair, he’s been reliable with child support for years. So I’m trying to think of that when the panic sets in, and have Faith (hee!) that he will be similarly reliable now. So far, so good.

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So, my family just suffered a blow, as you probably know.  I’m doing the best I can to hold it together.  Brian is needing assurance that I don’t blame him or think he should have done more.  The girls are needing comforting and help making peace with loss-a lesson they will make use of throughout life.  Christian is just needing the stability of the routine we had fallen into returning.  All I need is my puppy back, but since that won’t happen I am just throwing myself into doing what needs to be done.  I’ve cleaned and rearranged and run the dishwasher more than I needed and started laundry and contacted or seen clients and started on paperwork….anything to stay busy and keep the hollowness at bay.

I spent last weekend with Kim, Becky, and Karl in Destin, Fl.  I’d never been to Destin, or even to the panhandle at all, save for driving through it to New Orleans when I was 19 or so.  It was lovely, as I expected, but the place meant far less than the company.  I would be quite happy staying in a shitty hotel in Topeka, Kansas with them.  Kim showed us the area she was familiar with through many family vacations.  We drank, a lot, we ate, a lot-and not always well, and we laughed, a lot.  I am so thankful to have been with such amazing, warm people when things were taking a turn for the worse at home.

The reason we all drew together on that particular weekend was that it was both the one year anniversary of Kim’s husband, Gregory’s death, and well as the three month anniversary of her father’s death.  Such devastating losses, and such a short time between them.  At one point, early in the weekend, Kim said how people call her strong, and she can’t relate to that because she just feels like she’s doing what has to be done.  That resonated within me, and I thought about it often throughout the weekend.

She may not know it, but Kim has helped me get through some pretty tough times…this last blow included.  I struggle with anxiety and occasional depression, but due to no affordable health insurance, I am undiagnosed and untreated.  Sometimes life runs me over, and it takes what feels like every ounce of strength I can muster to pull myself out of the despair and helplessness it can bring.  When I feel like I can’t do it, I think of Kim.  I think of Kim, and I think that if she can get through such a tragic loss, and not lose her zest for life, then I can face whatever I am dealing with.

Kim, you may not feel like you can relate to being called strong, but you are, nevertheless, strong.  You continue to get up every day, and you don’t settle for just putting one foot in front of the other, my friend.  You seize life.  You squeeze every drop out of it.  You didn’t let losing Gregory sour you on the beautiful things that life has to offer.  You honor him every. single. day. by sharing his memory with the rest of us and living life to the fullest every day.  You inspire people like me to keep it moving when things get rough.  You just really don’t even know the extent to which you, and Gregory, through you, have touched the lives of the people you come into contact with.

Thank you, Kim, for sharing last weekend with us…with me.  I’m thankful that I had the chance to spend time with you, and laugh with you, and cry with you, and connect with you on a deeper level.  I wish you hadn’t suffered the losses you have, and I wish I could take away the ache.  But all I can do is be here for you now, and I hope you know that I am here for you, anytime, anytime.

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I certainly can’t pretend to know what other women want.  But I finally, finally, since hitting my thirties, have figured out what I want.  I know who I want to be, who I am, and for the most part, how to bridge that gap.  And I am finally starting to make the hard decisions and take the leaps of faith and find peace and happiness where I am.  That doesn’t mean I will stop striving to improve…to be the best me I can be…to give more of myself.  But that drive for more doesn’t have to mean that I can’t find contentedness where I am right now.  Still, goals are important, and standards or boundaries for yourself and for others are necessary.

What I want with regard to my children:

• I want to provide a physically and emotionally safe and healthy environment for them.  I want to give them everything they need, and some of what they want.  I want them to grow in an environment that allows them room to make choices, and make mistakes when necessary, but safely within the boundaries I set for them.
• I want to set a positive example for them. I want to be the kind of woman I hope my girls will one day be, and the kind of woman I hope my son will someday choose. I don’t mean I want them to be just like me; I just want them to have the kind of values I live by.
• I want them to be as independent as possible.  I won’t always be here to guide their decisions.  I don’t want to control them…I want to give them the tools they need to control themselves.
• I want them to know, above all, that they are loved and cherished.  I will make mistakes….daily.  But I know if my love shines through, it will transcend them all and give them the self-worth they need to forgive me.
• I want to be clear about my expectations for them, and be consistent in the consequences for falling short of them. Uncertainty makes it next to impossible to learn, and learning is the whole point of discipline.
• I want to provide them with a routine that gives them the security of knowing what to expect.  But I also need to teach them the need for flexibility by bending the routine when necessary.

What I want with regard to my relationship:

• I want to laugh.  I want to be silly and goofy and let the stress of life melt away in the face of the bond I share with my partner.
• I want to know that my partner respects my strength, but will be there for me when I need to completely fall apart.  No one can be strong all of the time.  I want to be a team, taking on all the BS the world has to throw at us, knowing we can rely on one another.
• I want my partner to like my children. Loving them is important, but liking to be around them is just as critical, because I am with them most of the time.
• I want to be intellectually challenged by my partner.
• I want to know that my partner is honest with me, all of the time.  The kind of trust and security that honesty inspires in me keeps jealousy, clinginess, and suspicion out of our relationship.
• I want affection.  The connection stays vibrant with the seemingly insignificant brushes and touches and squeezes throughout the day.
• I want that surge….that jolt from my brain down to the bottom of my belly when I think about my partner intimately.
• I want my partner to “get” me.  He doesn’t have to like the same things….but I want him to understand the things that are important to me and allow me to enjoy them without being threatened by them because they don’t necessarily include him.  We both had lives before, and we should be able to meld our lives together without losing what was important to us then.
• I want to be listened to. Really listened to. I have issues with feeling insignificant, and not being heard feeds those insecurities.
• I want to be appreciated.  The more I feel like what I offer of myself is appreciated, the more I want to give. It’s a win/win.  I don’t ask for anything I am not willing to give.

What I want with regard to myself:

• I want to get to a size that I feel comfortable in. I don’t know exactly what weight that is, or even what size, but I just want to feel like I can be myself without feeling awkward because of my size.
• I want to re-enroll in school in 2010. There is no excuse for someone with my academic capability to not have even earned an associate’s degree at 32 years old. And I LOVE to learn.
• I want to get my local business site launched within the next four months.  I have a gut feeling that it could be really successful.
• I want to cook for my family five nights a week.  Because they are worth it, and I do love to cook when the fog leaves my head.  And I am usually a damned good cook, too.
• I want to start my non-profit next year.  I need to create a curriculum and pitch it to churches locally.  I’ll teach the groups for whatever the church and participants can donate, because people need these kind of skills to be functional.
• I want to procrastinate less.  I can only imagine what changing this one habit of mine will do for my stress level.
• I want to live in the moment more. I’m a planner..and I enjoy planning..but sometimes I get so wrapped up in planning that DOING never happens.

Some of these things are already happening…but far too few.  Life is short, and I’ve spent a lot of mine unsure of who I was and what I want, and having no idea what direction to move in to even begin creeping closer to whatever it was I wanted.  These days, I just want a simple, happy life with my kids, and I want to share it with someone that puts our relationship high on his list of priorities.  And above all, I want to be at peace with the woman I see in the mirror every day.

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Once upon a time there was a princess. But she wasn’t your average petite waifish princess. She was more along the lines of Princess Fiona….in her green form. Sometimes people would call her fat, and she certainly felt fat some days. But mostly she was called thick, at least by the people who loved her and saw her in relation to the soul they knew.

She loved her Mom and Dad, but she didn’t follow in the path they created. She questioned the things they felt she should blindly accept, and she always had to make her own way, no matter how clean of a path was cleared for her. She disappointed them, but she always meant well. The blindness of her youth pained them.

The princess struggled to fit in, in every sense of the word. She felt like a square peg in a round hole, or an extra large in a medium dress. She married a king and became a queen and had little handsome princes and beautiful princesses of her own. She busied herself with mommy things and tried to forget the loneliness that haunted her.

But one day everything changed.

That day she found a secret passage in her castle; one that led to a whole new world she never knew about. In it there was an endless hall lined windows that she could see people like her through. She could read the thoughts of these people, and pass her own messages through them, too. She found queens and kings from across the land who they were like her, but they were each unique in the most spectacular ways, too! She found acceptance without question. She found community. There was the strength of relationships built upon respect.

The princess, now a queen, began to visit the secret garden she had discovered as often as possible. She tended to her family as usual, but there grew a gratitude from the personal satisfaction she was discovering that made it more of a pleasure to be a mother and a wife than before. She was taught to be more thankful for her healthy children. She was taught that there is strength in vulnerability. She learned that faith does not mean there is no room for asking questions. She learned that the people you touch throughout your life will carry on your legacy long after you are unable to physically reach them. She learned that there is courage in the truth, no matter how simple that truth appears.

After a time, she realized that every now and again, some of the windows that divided the gardens of her new friends and herself were thrown open. If she could only time her visit right, she could overcome the barriers between her brothers and sisters and herself and spend a short time cementing the relationships she had cultivated.

She miscalculated three times, and missed her opportunity to build bridges. She was so deeply saddened by her inability to time her visits that she appealed to her king, explaining what her secret garden meant to her and why it was so important to her. She showed him the place that had made her remember who she was, aside from being a mother and a wife, and he was a kind king. He was happy for her, and he promised to help her.

He kept his promise, and the queen was at the next gathering, eager to meet her friends without the barriers of the glass that had separated them. It was everything she had imagined, and then some. The other queens and the few kings who braved the crush of ballgowns were even more wonderful than she imagined, and she felt like a part of something so powerful. She knew the people beyond the windows not only by their voices now, but by their faces. Her only concern now was knowing which face was behind which window in the never-ending hall she called her secret garden! Without a way to know where to find her special friends, she went into a tailspin and found herself flustered and unable to keep the connections she had made flourishing. After much thought, she decided she should label the windows, so she would know which of them were the deep friendships she had just worked so hard on and which ones she would be sowing for the first time at the next gathering, which she desperately hoped she would be able to attend.

The queen went to work on making her idea a reality, but she needed a partner. She searched her kingdom high and low, and finally she found Label Daddy. With Label Daddy’s help, she was able to continue to build the relationships she had established, as well as work on making new connections. Label Daddy was so impressed with the unique way that the queen used their labels that they decided to do everything they could to make sure she didn’t miss another gathering.

The queen was flabbergasted. She had found a community that welcomed her with open arms, and in addition, she was rewarded for following her offbeat nature. It was almost more than she could absorb! She was so thrilled at the dual realization of her dreams both to fit in, and to be appreciated for *not* fitting in that she pranced around the gathering telling every queen, and the few kings who braved yet another crush of ballgowns, about how Label Daddy had opened those windows for her. It was merely the blink of an eye, and every secret garden in the land was gleefully decorated with Label Daddy labels in the most creative ways-showcasing the individuality of the others, as well! They could also be found resting in the chambers of the royal families in every kingdom-in their slippers, on their toys, in their closets and cupboards….making every day hassle-free.

This story was created as my entry into the Label Daddy BlogHer ’09 Sponsorship.  Go visit and enter yourself so we can spread the word that Label Daddy REALLY loves bloggers!  They are going *all out* to put more of us at the conference-more than any other company that I am aware of!

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Am I the only one who finds some humor in the fact that little Faith starts kindergarten the same week that Tropical Storm Fay is coming?  Maybe you just have to know Faith’s tempestuous nature to find it funny.

Anyway.

So, my baby started school this morning.  I tried to be upbeat and positive, and show no weakness, because she has said several times that she was nervous about all the new people.  I explained to her that every single student at that school is feeling the same way, because it’s a brand new school.  I told her she would be great, and that she would have to work on learning more than in Pre-K, but overall it would be very similar.  I reminded her of the rules, most of which she told me without me ever telling her.  I dressed her in a uniform jumper and polo, even though the dress code was vetoed at the last minute by the school board, because I had already bought them and they will keep her regular clothes from getting all those kindergarten art supplies on them.  I braided her hair and I held her hand all the way to the bus, where her sister and my friend and colleague’s daughter took her hands and led her up those big steps.

And I waited by the phone for three hours in case she panicked at school.

She didn’t.

She’ll be home in about 2 hours.  And I will hug her and kiss her and tell her how much I missed her and that I am so very proud of her for walking right up to that bus even though she was scared.

And I will learn from her, when I start my own classes next week, I will think of my tiny little brave kindergartener, and I will have Faith.

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