*Southern for “getting ready to”


I pick a book off the library shelf—Change the Way You See Everything by Cramer and Wasiak. Cool photos, inspirational ideas until they get to be too much. I read a little more. Concentrate on the positive and stop trying to prevent and fix, it says. What???? Preventing and fixing is bad? That’s what I do. I’m furious. Back to the library you will go.

A few days go by. A few days of being at work, trying to prevent and fix, followed by a couple of days with a gnawing feeling that things are unpreventable and unfixable. Meanwhile, the people around me are content with working in pleasant, meandering ways.

I’ve noticed that the words that piss me off the most are often the truest.

I pick up the book again. This approach to things is definitely not me.



There is no security. Your security is in not expecting it.

After you land, you think about the trip and gather what you have. Then you stand there waiting to walk through the portal.

Figuring out what happened to me will not happen talking with family and friends. It will not happen in a therapist’s office. They will all give me the hints and ideas and truths and non-truths from other perspectives. That’s it.

I was the one in the marriage. I could just walk through the portal. But I need to pause first.

This is what really happened. I know because I was there and because I want to be honest and face it.

Today I will face the tough part. Today I will face my role:

I was myself in the marriage, but not completely. This wasn’t honest. I was the part of myself that is endearing. The confrontational part was always finessed during confrontations because of my fear of being rejected. This was a well-founded fear, because when I finally did confront directly, I was rejected permanently.

Since an incident in October of 2008, I’ve gone through separation, family therapy, therapy with what became left of the family, pouring my thoughts onto paper, pouring my thoughts into cyberspace, lawyers, divorce, realtors, job interviews, moving companies…

I love where I’ve landed.

The visual of my experience is no longer the streaks from motion. I’ve stopped and things look different now.

I am starting to see through the eyes of a realistic woman. I am not a cynical woman. I am a woman who wanted to see magic and who got hurt by that.

I am a woman who knows that the world is already magical, and that it is best experienced while looking through clear lenses.

For phlebotomy students, this is the big question.

I really didn’t think I wouldn’t make the required 100 blood draws. My focus continues to be on learning, learning, learning to do something well that can only be learned by experience, experience, experience…

I’ve had many days where I question if I can really do this. I will have many more days like that. Then there are days where I hope, because I love it, that I really will be able to do this. What I didn’t know about phlebotomy before taking the course is that it isn’t a skill that, once learned, is at your beck and call. Phlebotomists with years of experience have days where they miss easily accessed veins, and veins that are well accessed sometimes don’t give up their precious blood.  AND YOU NEVER KNOW WHY!

But yesterday, exactly at quitting time, after a wonderful day of tubes filled to capacity and patients saying that they didn’t feel a thing, that 100th patient was gauzed up and told to have a great day.

No confetti or balloons dropped down. Except in my head.

When it comes to trying to end my love affair with control (unrequited due to control’s nonexistence), I may be talking the talk and writing the writing, but I am struggling with living the life. From my sneaky subconscious, a  loop of tape keeps playing in my head:

When I get things under control, I will be able to relax and be happy.

Perhaps I could upgrade to new media and enjoy streaming reality.

Isn’t it more about remembering what we’ve unlearned over the years?