Let me tell you about my Daddy issues.

My father was a concert organist. He started playing piano at age 6. He was writing his own compositions at age 12. I don't know when he graduated to the pipe organ, but my grandparents had a Hallman Pipe Organ (video link) in their home. If you have never seen one of these things, they required on the fly programming. If you wanted to change the tone of keys or the pedals, there were flip keys and pull levers that would change the tone and timbre of the music. 

My father also played the church pipe organs for various church services and weddings. He attended the University of the Pacific and got his degree in Spanish Poetry and Music. He studied at the conservatory and as I recall, he studied with Dave Brubeck and he could always do a mean rendition of Take Five (video link)

My father stopped playing music regularly after he returned from Vietnam. There were two reasons that he would play. Whenever we visited with my grandparents (my father's parents), I would twiddle on the organ. At some point my father would come into the parlor and would play. Some of my favorite memories of my father are sitting in the front room and listening him play the Nutcracker Suite and Flight of the Bumblebee. 

The other way he would play is if he was short on funds. There weren't many people in California who were able to play a pipe organ. I guess they must have all known each other because as I remember it, I would get a pizza while my father would play a set or two. Sometimes the organ player would sit with us and talk shop, other times he would just enjoy a longer than usual break. I don't recall it feeling strange, but looking back, I wonder how many times my father and I would just wander into one of the pizza and pipes joints; my father gambling that he would be able to play for our supper. 

My relationship with my father feels very similar to his relationship with music. It was something he loved and loved to share. However, whatever it was that happened to him in Vietnam took away his ability to share his passions. He could be prompted and coerced into sharing his music when there was a need, but I am not quite sure he still loved music. 

There are some wonderful moments that I remember. My father tuning my violin and accompanying me as I learned to play pieces by Bach, Telemann, and Haydn. He introduced me to some of my favorite characters, Bilbo, Alice,  Paul Atreides, Screwtape and Wormwood. I have an illustrated copy of the Hobbit that warms my heart because it is similar to the one that father read from for me.

But there are many moment when I remember my father not noticing me. He never went to a swim meet, a concert, or any of the other things that parents are supposed to attend. He wasn't terribly present in my life. He didn't help me with my homework and he wasn't a person to run to for comfort. He was volatile and someone I couldn't predict. 

My father and I had many unresolved issues. His mental stability and health deteriorated before I could ever find common ground or figure out what there was between us. I can go weeks without thinking about him and then I'll hear a classical piece or see a science fiction program and it will hit me like a Mac Truck. I will wish that I could share it with my father. He would have loved Dr. Strange and I would be curious to hear his take. I think he would have adored Zootopia, which is one of the reasons I haven't been able to watch it yet. 

Since my father has passed, I have come to the understanding that I will never be able to resolve things with him. I also have to stop looking for that resolution from my relationships. Yes, I have Daddy issues. I am a Gen Xer, of course I do.

So my work for the next few months is to pull apart said "Daddy" issues and figure out how to build positive relationships instead of ones where I feel like I am only noticed when I make a lot of noise.

So today's song (actually piece) is an electronic rendition of Bach's Toccata. My father could play the hell out of this piece and if I want to test a sound system, this is my go to piece. I simply adore it.

"You keep losing when you oughta not bet..."

I remember that Lawyer Guy told me once that the way to walk away from someone was to simply walk away and not look back.

• No calls.
• No e-mail.
• No texts.
• Zero communication

Erase them from your life and if your brain insists on thinking about them, play a game of solitaire or something else mindless until your brain can move on to something else.

I have walked away, successfully, on a number of occasions. In fact, I did it to Lawyer Guy. I cut off communication and haven't spoken to him in over six months. Today is the first time, in a long time, that I have given him any thought and it was because of that specific piece of advice. (It isn't that he was the first person to tell it to me, just that he put it so succinctly and simply.)

Cutting off contact is something I do know how to do. I could (and probably should) do it to the person who hurt me.

I wrote the e-mail telling the person that I want them out of my life.  It's vicious. It's vitriolic. I meant every damn word. I stuck it in my drafts folder. It's probably one of those things that I should consider carefully before sending. I didn't want to. It would have felt so good to just send it off. I know it would cause the person some amount of pain and that thought makes me rather happy at the moment. So I guess I should add vengeful to the list of adjectives describing that e-mail.

The reason I am so angry, well one of the reasons, is that I feel that this person took away my agency. I would like to give them the benefit of the doubt and hear their side of the story. However, they have been unable (or unwilling) to tell me anything. My only choice is patience or walking away and I am fresh out of patience. I feel the only way I can have any control is to be the one who puts on the boots and starts walking.

But I guess my walkin' boots can wait until tomorrow. Until then, the song choice was glaringly obvious.

"Don't walk, they just glide in and out of life..."

My therapist called in sick today. After the past couple of days, I really wanted to see her. Because she is part of a medical group her schedule is really packed, so unless I get lucky, I won't see her until our next scheduled appointment.

I did manage to see my psychiatrist today. We discussed some possibilities to help with my ADHD, but I want to see how I manage a few weeks in the classroom before I change my medications. I can get pills, but no therapy.

Mental Health in America, isn't it grand.

I am left unsure what to do with myself. I was really hoping to discuss my reactions with my therapist. Since she isn't available, I guess writing will have to do. This isn't enlightened or constructive. I am just angry. I know, my blog, my content. But I believe a warning is polite. So, there, you are warned.

The big question is should I listen, strike that, should I ask for an explanation? I think I know what the answers are. In fact, the answers aren't the problem. The photos were a gut punch, but in retrospect, I should have anticipated them. The photos weren't the problem. It was the lack of communication.

I think that is why I just pulled into myself. I don't want to hear the excuses. I am perfectly aware of how attached that person is to their devices. I really can't believe that they couldn't take the time to talk to me. I am angry that they didn't think to say, "Hey, we were all together and so this is what happened." I needed reassurance and I didn't receive any. So instead I feel forgotten and neglected.

And I feel guilty that I need reassurance. I feel like I am supposed to be strong and confident and I shouldn't need someone to tell me that the pictures on Facebook didn't mean anything. I also feel like I am in high school, because online shit, really?

I emailed the person. I told them that I need to focus on my job, my family and I wasn't going to spare them bandwidth for a while. I didn't tell them not to contact me, but I said I wasn't able to pretend that things were all right. I don't know what I expected. I suppose a reply that says something akin, "I understand that you are upset. I wish we could talk sooner, but I respect that you are setting boundaries for yourself. I would like to discuss this when you are ready."

Instead they decided that they shouldn't respond in any way. I suppose I should understand that. Silence in the midst of conflict always makes things better. I have already had nearly 48 hours to think of all the worst case scenarios, so when I don't hear anything from them, I should find that a positive, right? (To be fair, they have been traveling and they went back to work today, but honestly how long does it take to text, "I got your message. I am sorry that you are hurt. I will respond as soon as I am able"?)

No, I think their silence is a chicken shit move and I also think they know they fucked up and they aren't willing to face the music. I think that I should just go with my Plan A and shove them out of my life and stick to the idea that I wish I had never met them.

Oh, did I mention that I am angry and hurt?

It's weird, because with the medication I am on means that while I feel the anger and hurt, it's not consuming me. It's just there. It's noise I can block out or listen to, but I have the choice. For the purposes of writing this entry, I am opening up and letting the anger out, because I didn't have a therapy appointment to discuss it in. Yesterday and Monday it was there, but I had other things to do, so it was in the background, like so much noise.

I should note, for the record, that the person I am discussing is aware of this blog and reads it. So I am going to openly address that fact. I know that they may read this. And if they hadn't been chicken shit, then they wouldn't have had to read my anger and feelings being vented online. I am sure that they have their own emotions and problems, but silence means I can ignore them, because what I don't know doesn't matter to me.

All right, I feel very petty right now. I hate that I feel guilty about my own feelings. I hate that I still want to give them the benefit of the doubt. I hate that I want to believe that this is all a big misunderstanding.

It is a misunderstanding, but I wasn't the one who caused it. I am not the one who decided avoiding the problem was the way to resolve it. I am the one who is deciding that if someone else wants to avoid the problem, I can make things easier for them and simply stop engaging with them at all.

Because with incomplete data and a lack of communication, I can only decide that I am unable to solve the problem and walk away.

Of course, I have come to that conclusion countless times and the walking part has yet to actually work. That's why I wanted to see my therapist. I didn't need to tell her the story. I just needed to ask how I say "enough is enough" and tell the person to fuck off and then walk away. It's obvious to everyone else that's what I should do, so why can't I?

Ok, that's enough ranting for one session. Thank you internet for being my interim therapist.

Today is a good day for some Bowie. I think Sons of the Silent Age is about perfect.

"You promise your love, how much you care..."

I haven't been blogging much recently. There is the usual going on, but writing hasn't been as appealing these days. I feel like I simply don't have good words.

I feel very lost. I don't know where I am supposed to stand, where my life is supposed to be.

Dancing used to be so important to me. I would drive from San Jose to Berkeley every Monday night just so I could do Irish dancing. I loved it. For over ten years, I was a part of the community. This is not a post about why I am no longer in that community, let's just say that it was not by choice that I left.

I have been struggling to find a community where I feel truly accepted ever since. I suppose that might sound very harsh, but it isn't that communities and people aren't accepting me. I don't feel accepted.

That's the problem with social anxiety, it just poisons everything, if you let it.

I fight it all the time. I fought with it when there was conflict in my theater group. I thought no one wanted me around. I thought the my problems were because of me. It wasn't until the same problems happened when I wasn't around that I realized that I wasn't the cause of all the issues in the group. I came back to the group, but I am still wary, I am still waiting for them to tell me that letting me back in was a mistake.

I take medication, I do therapy, I work my cogitative behavioral exercises. I don't live in a world where I think everyone hates me. I live in a world where I worry that most people dislike me and wish I would quit bothering them. I just ignore it.

It's just noise most of the time. I live day to day without worrying about who I offended today or what wrong thing I said. I dismiss it the way I would the myriad of distractions that exist for all of us. The same way I can have Dr. Strange streaming on Netflix and write at the same time, I swap my attention between the two and give one task more focus than the other.

It's not the most efficient way of doing things, but I am sure I am not the only one to have multiple inputs going at once. I suppose that is one advantage of being ADHD, I am used to having to sift through a lot of noise.

I don't trust my anxiety. I tend to err on the side of withdrawing but sometimes I fall on the side of extreme loyalty, even when I am hurting myself. That is what I faced this morning. My loyalty to someone was abused (again) and I found out because of facebook. It is a horrible way to learn anything. The information is incomplete, there is no context, but pictures contain so much data. My brain latches on and then I endlessly process and analyze. I try to see the best possible scenarios and I end up with the worst. Of course the person isn't able to communicate with me and I am so tired of having issues with them, I doubt I could listen.

Today I just wished I had never met the person. I wished that they had never been a part of my life. I regret that I ever allowed them in. I regret that it was possible for some fairly mundane photos to cut my heart so deeply.

And then the social anxiety steps in and now it's hard to shut it out. Now it's not just noise. Now it's strident voices in my head telling me that I deserved what happened. They yell that I don't stand up for myself. They say the worst phrase in the English language: I should have known better.

I don't want to even tell anyone the story because if they knew all the details I think they would simply shake their heads and wonder how I could have been so fucking blind.

I guess I was distracted.

I won't try to explain the song. It's an oldie and while not perfectly appropriate, the anger is resonating with me tonight.

"If you peel away the armor is something underneath ..."

I think that everyone takes measures to protect themselves. I believe that they are different based on personality and upbringing, but people protect themselves. 

I think we build emotional armor to keep people from hurting our hearts. I think that we have spiritual beliefs that help us deal with those things that feel bigger than ourselves. I think we have our intellectual beliefs that allow us to debate points of view. 

What never fails to amaze me is the human propensity for self-deception. I was with my second husband for seven years. I would have told you that our relationship was troubled, but overall a good one, for 6.5 of them. It was not until I got out of the relationship that my friends told me how bad that things were. No, strike that - It wasn't until he left me that I heard what my friends said about him. It has been thirteen years and I am still discovering trauma from that relationship.

I promised myself that I would never stay in such a destructive relationship again. I wish that I had kept that promise, but I'm human. 

I believe that some of the human propensity for self-deception is because we don't want to face being alone. I think that we become blind to what we are doing to others; feeling it is better to be hurt and emotionally devastated than abandoned and alone. 

I do not know how my friends felt about me when I was still married to my ex-husband. I imagine it must have been incredibly frustrating. While they did tell me that they were relieved when I left, not one of my friends condemned me. I remember nothing but love and support. I remember a friend taught me to knit so I would have something to focus on instead of my separation. I remember other friends took me to movies to give me distractions. It was not easy. 2004 is probably one of the most emotionally devastating years I have ever gone through. 

It was also the biggest turning point in my life. I met my current husband. Because of that year, I discovered who my friends were, I found the motivation to change careers and I discovered inner resources that I never knew I had. 

I have been involved in relationships that aren't that good for me. I have put up with things that I probably shouldn't have. I don't think I have ever repeated the mistakes of my second marriage. If nothing else, I haven't stayed in a bad relationship for as many years and have been better about getting out of relationships that seem destructive. 

What I haven't done is dealt with a friend who seems to be in a bad relationship and being hurt. I want to be supportive, but I realized that the only thing I can do is distance myself from the situation. I guess that is what my friends did. Hopefully I can be supportive if the time comes that my friend gets out of their quandary.

I wish I could do more. I have tried, but I realized yesterday that nothing I say or do will help my friend. It isn't my business and it isn't my responsibility to save my friend. It's their life. I am just going to have to let it go. 

I really feel for the people who had to watch the downward spiral of my marriage. I am more thankful than ever for their patience and understanding. I imagine it wasn't easy.

"You and I get so damn dysfunctional, we start keeping score..."

I saw my therapist today. She told me how well she felt I dealt with my mother. When I noted that I could have done better, she told me that it wasn't about being perfect, it was about improving.

I have been thinking about that a lot today. I feel like I am in a situation where someone (not my mother) keeps standing on my foot. I have said, "Ow, quit it.". I have tried to explain why I don't like having my foot stepped on.  "You are stepping on my foot, stop" seems like it should be sufficient.

This person stepped on my foot yesterday, hard. It was mostly inadvertent and due to a misunderstanding, but they still stepped on my foot. Frankly, I am sick and tired of people stepping on my feet. I don't care about the why anymore. I just want to stop being stepped upon.

In therapy today we discussed that I would like to approach my life from a different perspective. I am not in this world to be liked. I am not teaching so my students will like me. I am not here so people can step on me. There is a lot of good I can do in this world, but I can't dance if people keep bruising my feet.

This is really an addendum to my previous post, I guess. I am just trying to figure out how to apply this to my teaching practice, my day-to-day life and my relationships. It's not a natural inclination and after years of being good ole' reliable Rachel, it's hard to tell people no.

So, to applaud myself, I told a friend no, that I couldn't get involved in Renaissance Faire this year, I simply don't have time. I have a potential compromise, so I might still be able to attend for at least one weekend as a participant. I also asked a friend for a raincheck on lunch today. There were puppy complications to attend to, and I decided that I shouldn't overwhelm myself. In both cases, the friend was understanding and apparently they don't hate me because I cancelled on them.

I think I am just going to focus on not getting my foot stepped upon and no longer try to explain it to people. It doesn't seem worth the energy and it doesn't prevent some folks from causing me pain.

So, there's some shoving I have to do.

Today's song (does anyone even notice these things? I suppose it doesn't matter) was playing as I was driving back from IKEA today. It reminded me that even when I know that things are bad for me, I still keep doing them. It's not about being perfect, it's about improving, even if the steps are incremental. I know the song well, but I had never seen the video before today. Improvement is great, but too little, too late just means I will feel bad when I leave. It doesn't prevent me from deciding I should.

"It's time to live in the scattered sun..."

I spoke with my mother. She wanted to rant and yell. I didn't let her. It wasn't a good talk, per say, but it was a productive one.

Someone stated that it doesn't matter why someone is stepping on your foot, the point is to simply get them off of your foot so it stops hurting. While it was spoken in terms of my mother, I have noticed it has wider application, at least in my life.

Boundaries are difficult for me. I am so scared of losing people and being abandoned that I will take a stupid amount of abuse. This incident with my mother just happened at a time when I needed a nudge.

I am not sure how to stop feeling like a fool or how to stop feeling exploited. But starting today I am going to clean up my mental house. I am not going to stay in relationships where I feel like I am getting the raw end of the deal. No more excuses, no more understanding, no more pretending that things will get better.

If you are standing on my foot, get off of it. Then we can discuss it, but as long as my foot's in pain, I don't give a damn what you have to tell me, because an apology or an empty promise doesn't fix my problem, it just makes it take longer to fix it.

Easy to say, now to see if it holds water.

"But the mother and child reunion Is only a motion away..."

I haven't spoken to my mother. She hasn't called. I know she is waiting for me to call her.

I am really glad that I didn't give up Disneyland. The case has been rescheduled for for 9/13. The DA office neglected to inform either the victim's advocate office or my mother that the hearing was cancelled. The assigned DA had to go into surgery. Thankfully someone did come and explain to my mother, so she is better prepared for what she will need to do for the hearing in September. It wasn't my mother's fault, but I would have been livid if I had cancelled my trip only to find out the hearing was cancelled.

There was a lot of discussion about whether or not my mother is toxic. A friend of mine, who knows my mother and has spent time with her, made a salient point. It's not that my mother is toxic, but that she simply doesn't have the social awareness or skills to communicate well. My mother is not neurotypical and so I interpret her behavior through that lens. Yes, she is very self-centered.

I need to think very carefully about some boundaries and figure out how to explain them to my mother. I am thinking that a letter might be my best way. I can write it carefully and explain what my boundaries are going to be and how they will be enforced. It will not go over well. I have to make sure that I am all right with making my mother upset.

I think I will draft my letter and bring it to my therapy appointment next week. It will help to have someone who isn't emotionally invested in either me or my mother take a look at what I am trying to communicate.