I am at the end of week five of my current fitness program. I have not missed a workout in these 5 weeks. The breakdown:
M
5:45 am
Turbo Jam 40 minute cardio
T
6:00 am
Turbo Jam 18 minute abs
W
5:45 am
Turbo Jam 40 minute body sculpt
Th
5:45 am
4o-50 min Pilates/Yoga
F
5:30 pm (after work on Fridays)
Weights - upper body and lower body alternate weeks
Additional: Walk the dog 2-4 times a week; 2 times for sure during the week at 25 minutes each; and trying to get 2 in on weekends, at 45 min to 1 hour each.
Typical Menu:
Breakfast - 1 serving size whole grain cereal which has less than 5 g sugar and 5 or more g of fiber, usually Kashi, with one banana, or a handful of strawberries, raspberries, or blueberries; with 1% milk.
Snack 1 - 1 banana or 1/2-1 apple, or 1 c grapes, or 1 orange, or 1/2 c sliced strawberries, + 1 slice lf cheese OR lf or ff yogurt
Lunch - Healthy choice soup, or leftover dinner, or ww tortilla w/turkey, lf cheese, lettuce, hummus, or a grilled chicken salad w/veggies and a little lf dressing
Snack 2 - 1 c carrot sticks and hummus OR protein powder w/1% milk
Dinner - a lean meat, pasta or ww rice, vegetable; varies...I have found many lean recipes to make; I like variety (who doesn't?)
Snack 3 - Protein powder and 1% milk; or sometimes a low cal dessert; or sometimes 1/2 of a blueberry mini-bagal (not the best choice; mostly a filler so I don't wake up starving); or sometimes just chocolate milk if I'm not really hungry
+ at least 64 oz of water a day
Saturdays and Sundays are sort of free days, but I mostly eat healthy those two days with 1 or 2 "bad" meals. I also don't worry about eating 6 meals a day on weekends, and don't really think so hard about the fitness program at all. We traditionally like to have a fun breakfast on Saturday, which includes real bacon and eggs, and to have take-out pizza or something like that Saturday night. I also allow a cola or two on weekends.
I have given up alcohol for Lent.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I've been pretty focused lately, just sort of WANTING to do this, which of course is important, and the simple key. Obviously, what I'm doing is not good for anyone trying to lose more body fat. You would need to be stricter. I am so lucky to be genetically blessed to not really get "fat", even when I'm out of shape. When I think of all my other genetic faults, I try to remember all the good things about me, too, like this.
But it's not just about outward appearance. I am glad I don't look fat, even when I'm unhealthy, but I work out to feel good. My energy levels increase 1000%...I mean I get so much done when I'm healthy, you wouldn't believe it. I get stronger physically. I gain self-confidence. And then there is my bum hip. A proper strength program helps my hip to a point where I go from chronic pain to not hurting much at all! Although I do have to be careful. I unfortunately cannot do high impact stuff.
I hate that I can't do the high impact stuff. I feel like I am doing the old-lady version of the video. Especially when she says, "Okay...if you can't do it now, that is fine, stay low-impact, and work up to high impact"...bleh. But I've decided to swallow my pride and do what is safe for me. The people on the video cannot really see me anyway, ha ha, even though they act like you can. "we are SO GLAD you are here with us today" "You HAVE to keep doing this to keep us company!" What??? Ha ha !
I can barely eat out anymore as all of that stuff makes me sick on some level, even the pizza we get sometimes. I've been trying really hard to buy unprocessed foods without additives, but it is a challenge. I can't always do it, but I'm getting better. I even found some organic macaroni and cheese for my son!
I am finally starting to have my doubts about artificial sweeteners. I almost think that real, pure sugar is better, but that you have to really limit yourself there. We ran out of sugar lately, and I've been using Splenda all week, and getting headaches and now "optical migraines" I think (I go to the dr. today to confirm). I wonder if Splenda is the cause? It is also in 17 oz of water I drink a day, the fruit flavored kind I enjoy. My birth control pills are also suspect as the cause, as well as fluorescent lights.
I've been pushing myself on weights, too, using heavier ones than I thought I could use, even on body sculpt. Throughout the whole session, I think I'm not going to be able to do it and there is no way I'll finish. But then somehow, I do! I can tell my muscles are looking more defined. And even though I have not lost a lot of scale weight or inches, I somehow FEEL more muscular and in shape. I wonder if that's psychological, and if I really look any different, but like I said, it's not as much about how I look.
Overall, I am feeling really good and am in a really good place in my life at the moment. I'm not relying on any addictions like I have in the past, whether it be food, booze, or the internet, I am not surrounding myself with people who try to encourage our shared weaknesses or bring me to a lower moral ground (not that hard to do; best for me to avoid altogether when I see it), and I'm recognizing all of these behaviors in people who I once thought were good for me, but are really, very, very bad for me. I feel like that I have control of my life, and overall, I could not be happier. It's making me a better wife and mother, and probably person. I am finally in a place in my life where outside validation is not as important for me, and I am able to validate myself. It's almost hard to believe I'm here!
I will continue this workout program for another 7 weeks, and then take a break. God Bless.
Showing posts with label self-analysis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-analysis. Show all posts
Friday, March 06, 2009
Monday, March 02, 2009
My Biggest Regret
I have been taking a lot of cute little surveys lately...you know those forwarded e-mails...and one of the questions that comes up is, "What is your biggest regret?", or something similar. The cool thing to say seems to be something to the effect of "I have no regrets" or "I regret nothing b/c my mistakes have made me what I am today". Very few people actually list their regrets, including myself, I suppose for fear of getting lectured on how you should not regret things, how it is illogical and senseless and counterproductive, and perhaps some people just feel it a sign of weakness to list regrets.
We watched a movie last night called "Away From Her", about a couple experiencing Alzheimer's disease. The wife is who has it, and the movie is about their relationship, with interesting twists compared to similar movies of this genre. A very good movie, I might add, although not altogether upbeat, as is to be expected.
I like movies like this though, b/c for me, it is yet another great reminder to cherish, I mean really cherish, what you have now. It is so easy for someone like me with my personality to take things for granted. I NEED reminding, sad to say (or maybe I'm not so abnormal in this sense?). Also, I tend to dwell on the petty things, the little annoyances. I need to be reminded to just be happy that things are so great right now, especially with my husband and I, and the little one. It may not always be this way. You can't predict it. I really should just let the little things go, and enjoy this!!!
Anyway, the wife ends up in a nursing home, as will happen. There a lot of scenes with family visiting patients. And here is my biggest regret in life:
That I did not visit my Grandpa more, both before and after he was in a nursing home, but especially after (I say especially b/c I did visit him more when he was still at his house, although still not enough). I am ashamed to say that I hardly ever visited him on my own, if ever. I wish now I would have made it a weekly thing, or monthly at the very least.
Why didn't I? I don't have a good excuse, b/c what good excuse is there other than I myself not being physically capable of visiting, which wasn't the case? One of the reasons is that I used to be very selfish. I had other things to do. I did not want to make time for that. I am learning how to become less selfish these days, although I am not to the level of selflessness that I aspire to be some day.
But the biggest reason, much bigger than the selfishness, is that I live in a constant state of denial when it comes to the deterioration of my loved ones, or when it comes to the fact that they are dying. So not fair to the person in question, I know. But in my younger mind (hopefully not my current one), if I don't acknowledge it outright, it's not happening, or at least I am not forced to face it.
I did not want to watch my Grandpa deteriorate. I wanted no part of it. Two things about this:
1) I was very, very close to his wife, my Grandma. I was close to Grandpa, too, b/c of Grandma, but she was really the one I was close to. Grandpa was great, too, but he was just sort of there, who I loved by way of Grandma. Grandma was the the dominant one who ran the show and who I interacted with more often.
Grandma died when I was 16, and Grandpa changed after that. First from his grief, which he really never got over losing her, but also b/c he did not have Grandma there to help him with anything, right down to daily tasks. He also changed in natural ways, but ways that I could not face...like he became a "dirty old man"...heh...buying Playboys and flirting with nurses, ha ha. Nothing really wrong with that, and I'd laugh in any other scenario, but I could not deal with the new Grandpa versus the old traditional Grandpa from my cherished childhood years. Therefore, I did not really enjoy visiting him.
2) I don't enjoy visits to nursing homes. Who does? I don't like seeing death everywhere...and it's just creepy. Selfishness at it's height - I know this. I got this from my dad...not to blame him...and I'll get back to that.
While Grandpa was still alive, I had thought about visiting him more often so that I could write down all of his stories about the old days, so they would not be lost. But obviously, I never did.
And I regret it now. After seeing a movie like that...I mean I know he was so lonely and depressed there. I should have been a better granddaughter. I will just have to regret this one.
But I must still learn from it. It's one thing to pity yourself for things you have done wrong, but one must actually DO something about it, or else it just becomes another thing you can feel sorry for yourself about, and then it becomes about YOU again.
My first plan of action is to be less selfish in general (instead of simply waiting for someone to be in a nursing home again) - and this means calling people more, being there when they need me, etc. Like I said earlier, I'm still not classified as a Good Samaritan, and I may never be. But I can tell you that I'm a much better person now, much more giving than I used to be. I am actually proud of some of my latest good deeds, and I wonder if it is okay to be proud of this? Maybe I just feel good about myself instead of being proud, and about what I've done, and hopefully that is okay to feel good. I'm writing it here, but I'm not going around bragging about it...and I think *that* defeats the purpose of doing good deeds, when you go around bragging about it. Do your good deed for the sake of it, right? Not for bragging purposes.
The second plan is to take my son to visit nursing homes or similar, or to involve him in good deeds. My parents avoided these places, and like I said, my dad was very negative about the whole thing, like I used to be, and still am to some degree. I understand how he feels...but I believe that being raised that way, it becomes more difficult to break the pattern. Also, you are simply not used to places like that then, and you are not used to doing a good deed like this if you are not brought up to do so.
I don't believe in blaming parents for all your faults...once you realize it, you should either decide to be just like them and shup up about it, or to not be like them. And I don't mind that they are like that, and my parents are really not bad people overall. I just want to expand my horizons, and take my son along with me. I don't want him to fear these things like I did, nor to be as selfish, even if he does end up an only child like me.
I can tell you I still won't like it, and I will still dread it...visiting a nursing home, if and when I have to. What there is to learn here is that it is not about me. It's about rising above my own needs. No one looks forward to these things, but it still needs to be done.
I am getting older, too. Hopefully, I myself have a long time to worry about this with regards to my going into a home. But getting older does remind you that you will be dying some day. You put yourself in their shoes, all alone, taken away from their home, in a nursing home...wouldn't it be awful if your grandchildren and your loved ones didn't visit you? I must forgive myself for betraying my Grandpa like that. But...I am sorry, Grandpa. That just sucked, that I did that. Royally.
Again, a movie like that makes we want to cherish every moment, to pray daily and give thanks, and to reach out to my family and friends. Life is short. But it can be a good life. And I am suddenly reminded that I need to visit my only living grandparent, my other Grandma, who is alive and well and at home, and 80, more often!!! I wasn't as close to her, but that doesn't matter, does it?
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Footnote 1: My Great-Grandma was also in a nursing home, but she was quite happy there. She got very old and unable to take care of herself physically, but mentally, she was sharp, up until the very end. She liked being in a new environment, with people her age. she had others to talk to, and she played games and did crafts and enjoyed herself, and died a peaceful death. I didn't visit her either (I was in college then, and even MORE selfish), and I don't feel *as* bad about it knowing that she fared better than my Grandpa. But, based on principle alone, I still should have visited her. For what it's worth, I did attend her funeral though. Drove there all by myself, in a nearby small town. I'm glad I did that, b/c it clearly made my family very happy that I was there.
Footnote 2: One thing I can be happy about myself with regards to Grandpa, is that I was there when he was actually dying. I got the call late at night, dropped what I was doing (unlike me) and went straight to the home. When I arrived, it was pretty clear that he was dying. I immediately dropped to his side and held his hand, and told him I loved him and that he would be with Grandma soon...I felt excited for him in that sense. I often wonder if I was being a little melodramatic, just to look good or make myself feel better, but I really do think I truly and sincerely felt this way. I also attended his funeral and actually gave the eulogy at his funeral. I felt some good amount of closure there, at least.
Footnote 3: My biggest regret USED to be that I wasn't there enough for my Grandma when she was dying. She died a long and awful death of cancer, and I was scared senseless. I was scared to be around her, and didn't want to see her dying. She was very bad off, depressed, and not herself at all. After she died and throughout my youth, I often blamed myself for her death. I had wished I would have rallied her through it...held her hand and said "c'mon Grandma - fight it...you can do this!!!", and I had wished I would have prayed more...and so I blamed myself for her death, b/c I didn't do enough. (the image of me holding her hand and rallying her through is probably what inspired me to take Grandpa's hand and tell him I love him. It was too late to rally him, but I also regretted not telling her outright that I loved her, and I at least did not make that mistake again, with Grandpa)
However, I have forgiven myself for this and no longer regret my actions. The primary reason is that I was all of 15 and 16 years old. So young to put someone else's life on my shoulders. The secondary reason is b/c I don't think it would have mattered. Kind of funny in a way to think that I thought I could have single-handedly pulled her through a cancer that was all over her body - in her bones and spine and brain and organs - everywhere. So I have asked her and God for forgiveness with regards to that selfishness, and instead of regretting, I mostly think about her fondly, and often.
My Grandpa though, I was old enough to know better, hence the regret. But I will still forgive myself, although I must not let myself forget.
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Final thought - I sometimes wonder if I write these things just to make myself feel better or to be prideful or something like this. And then I wonder if that is such a bad thing...to make myself feel better. I suppose not, as long as my actions actually improve in the future.
We watched a movie last night called "Away From Her", about a couple experiencing Alzheimer's disease. The wife is who has it, and the movie is about their relationship, with interesting twists compared to similar movies of this genre. A very good movie, I might add, although not altogether upbeat, as is to be expected.
I like movies like this though, b/c for me, it is yet another great reminder to cherish, I mean really cherish, what you have now. It is so easy for someone like me with my personality to take things for granted. I NEED reminding, sad to say (or maybe I'm not so abnormal in this sense?). Also, I tend to dwell on the petty things, the little annoyances. I need to be reminded to just be happy that things are so great right now, especially with my husband and I, and the little one. It may not always be this way. You can't predict it. I really should just let the little things go, and enjoy this!!!
Anyway, the wife ends up in a nursing home, as will happen. There a lot of scenes with family visiting patients. And here is my biggest regret in life:
That I did not visit my Grandpa more, both before and after he was in a nursing home, but especially after (I say especially b/c I did visit him more when he was still at his house, although still not enough). I am ashamed to say that I hardly ever visited him on my own, if ever. I wish now I would have made it a weekly thing, or monthly at the very least.
Why didn't I? I don't have a good excuse, b/c what good excuse is there other than I myself not being physically capable of visiting, which wasn't the case? One of the reasons is that I used to be very selfish. I had other things to do. I did not want to make time for that. I am learning how to become less selfish these days, although I am not to the level of selflessness that I aspire to be some day.
But the biggest reason, much bigger than the selfishness, is that I live in a constant state of denial when it comes to the deterioration of my loved ones, or when it comes to the fact that they are dying. So not fair to the person in question, I know. But in my younger mind (hopefully not my current one), if I don't acknowledge it outright, it's not happening, or at least I am not forced to face it.
I did not want to watch my Grandpa deteriorate. I wanted no part of it. Two things about this:
1) I was very, very close to his wife, my Grandma. I was close to Grandpa, too, b/c of Grandma, but she was really the one I was close to. Grandpa was great, too, but he was just sort of there, who I loved by way of Grandma. Grandma was the the dominant one who ran the show and who I interacted with more often.
Grandma died when I was 16, and Grandpa changed after that. First from his grief, which he really never got over losing her, but also b/c he did not have Grandma there to help him with anything, right down to daily tasks. He also changed in natural ways, but ways that I could not face...like he became a "dirty old man"...heh...buying Playboys and flirting with nurses, ha ha. Nothing really wrong with that, and I'd laugh in any other scenario, but I could not deal with the new Grandpa versus the old traditional Grandpa from my cherished childhood years. Therefore, I did not really enjoy visiting him.
2) I don't enjoy visits to nursing homes. Who does? I don't like seeing death everywhere...and it's just creepy. Selfishness at it's height - I know this. I got this from my dad...not to blame him...and I'll get back to that.
While Grandpa was still alive, I had thought about visiting him more often so that I could write down all of his stories about the old days, so they would not be lost. But obviously, I never did.
And I regret it now. After seeing a movie like that...I mean I know he was so lonely and depressed there. I should have been a better granddaughter. I will just have to regret this one.
But I must still learn from it. It's one thing to pity yourself for things you have done wrong, but one must actually DO something about it, or else it just becomes another thing you can feel sorry for yourself about, and then it becomes about YOU again.
My first plan of action is to be less selfish in general (instead of simply waiting for someone to be in a nursing home again) - and this means calling people more, being there when they need me, etc. Like I said earlier, I'm still not classified as a Good Samaritan, and I may never be. But I can tell you that I'm a much better person now, much more giving than I used to be. I am actually proud of some of my latest good deeds, and I wonder if it is okay to be proud of this? Maybe I just feel good about myself instead of being proud, and about what I've done, and hopefully that is okay to feel good. I'm writing it here, but I'm not going around bragging about it...and I think *that* defeats the purpose of doing good deeds, when you go around bragging about it. Do your good deed for the sake of it, right? Not for bragging purposes.
The second plan is to take my son to visit nursing homes or similar, or to involve him in good deeds. My parents avoided these places, and like I said, my dad was very negative about the whole thing, like I used to be, and still am to some degree. I understand how he feels...but I believe that being raised that way, it becomes more difficult to break the pattern. Also, you are simply not used to places like that then, and you are not used to doing a good deed like this if you are not brought up to do so.
I don't believe in blaming parents for all your faults...once you realize it, you should either decide to be just like them and shup up about it, or to not be like them. And I don't mind that they are like that, and my parents are really not bad people overall. I just want to expand my horizons, and take my son along with me. I don't want him to fear these things like I did, nor to be as selfish, even if he does end up an only child like me.
I can tell you I still won't like it, and I will still dread it...visiting a nursing home, if and when I have to. What there is to learn here is that it is not about me. It's about rising above my own needs. No one looks forward to these things, but it still needs to be done.
I am getting older, too. Hopefully, I myself have a long time to worry about this with regards to my going into a home. But getting older does remind you that you will be dying some day. You put yourself in their shoes, all alone, taken away from their home, in a nursing home...wouldn't it be awful if your grandchildren and your loved ones didn't visit you? I must forgive myself for betraying my Grandpa like that. But...I am sorry, Grandpa. That just sucked, that I did that. Royally.
Again, a movie like that makes we want to cherish every moment, to pray daily and give thanks, and to reach out to my family and friends. Life is short. But it can be a good life. And I am suddenly reminded that I need to visit my only living grandparent, my other Grandma, who is alive and well and at home, and 80, more often!!! I wasn't as close to her, but that doesn't matter, does it?
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Footnote 1: My Great-Grandma was also in a nursing home, but she was quite happy there. She got very old and unable to take care of herself physically, but mentally, she was sharp, up until the very end. She liked being in a new environment, with people her age. she had others to talk to, and she played games and did crafts and enjoyed herself, and died a peaceful death. I didn't visit her either (I was in college then, and even MORE selfish), and I don't feel *as* bad about it knowing that she fared better than my Grandpa. But, based on principle alone, I still should have visited her. For what it's worth, I did attend her funeral though. Drove there all by myself, in a nearby small town. I'm glad I did that, b/c it clearly made my family very happy that I was there.
Footnote 2: One thing I can be happy about myself with regards to Grandpa, is that I was there when he was actually dying. I got the call late at night, dropped what I was doing (unlike me) and went straight to the home. When I arrived, it was pretty clear that he was dying. I immediately dropped to his side and held his hand, and told him I loved him and that he would be with Grandma soon...I felt excited for him in that sense. I often wonder if I was being a little melodramatic, just to look good or make myself feel better, but I really do think I truly and sincerely felt this way. I also attended his funeral and actually gave the eulogy at his funeral. I felt some good amount of closure there, at least.
Footnote 3: My biggest regret USED to be that I wasn't there enough for my Grandma when she was dying. She died a long and awful death of cancer, and I was scared senseless. I was scared to be around her, and didn't want to see her dying. She was very bad off, depressed, and not herself at all. After she died and throughout my youth, I often blamed myself for her death. I had wished I would have rallied her through it...held her hand and said "c'mon Grandma - fight it...you can do this!!!", and I had wished I would have prayed more...and so I blamed myself for her death, b/c I didn't do enough. (the image of me holding her hand and rallying her through is probably what inspired me to take Grandpa's hand and tell him I love him. It was too late to rally him, but I also regretted not telling her outright that I loved her, and I at least did not make that mistake again, with Grandpa)
However, I have forgiven myself for this and no longer regret my actions. The primary reason is that I was all of 15 and 16 years old. So young to put someone else's life on my shoulders. The secondary reason is b/c I don't think it would have mattered. Kind of funny in a way to think that I thought I could have single-handedly pulled her through a cancer that was all over her body - in her bones and spine and brain and organs - everywhere. So I have asked her and God for forgiveness with regards to that selfishness, and instead of regretting, I mostly think about her fondly, and often.
My Grandpa though, I was old enough to know better, hence the regret. But I will still forgive myself, although I must not let myself forget.
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Final thought - I sometimes wonder if I write these things just to make myself feel better or to be prideful or something like this. And then I wonder if that is such a bad thing...to make myself feel better. I suppose not, as long as my actions actually improve in the future.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
I guess it's all a matter of perspective...
So, with regards to my last post....I was complaining/venting about someone. I have since deleted the post due to what I think should or should not be put out for public viewing for all eternity. So if you read that last post before I deleted it, this will make sense. If not....well, it might be fun to read anyway.
In my meditative drive to work, I realized something....the very thing I was complaining about this person doing....I'm pretty sure I do the same thing to Matt quite frequently. Now that I am aware of this issue I have with someone else, I am aware of myself doing it. Huh.
This is insightful for 2 reasons:
1) It is insightful in the sense that I wonder how Matt feels about this. He is getting this from 2 different directions. I am sure he does not appreciate it anymore than I do. It makes me want to quit doing it, just b/c I know how it feels when it's done to me. I think *I myself* will stifle. Funny how it's easy enough to criticize someone else when you have your own dang problems you should fix first!
2) It is also insightful b/c now I see it more from her perspective, knowing how I feel when I do it to Matt. I am not in fact trying to be mean or bossy or pushy or meddling when I do that to Matt. In my mind, I am being helpful. Truly and sincerely, I think I am helping. Now I am almost 100% sure that that is what she is thinking, too. And I am almost 100% sure that it is equally annoying to Matt when I do it to him.
So what to do now? Does this mean I back off on her totally just b/c I understand better? Understanding is important. I think most of the things I mentioned her doing were no big deal in the grand scheme of life. The shoe thing was the worst, and I think Janel was right...that I handled it fine...and I in fact did not let her get her way. I just need to work on not dwelling on it after the fact.
Although she is trying to be helpful, I think it is within my rights to tell her that she is not in fact being so helpful, and to tell her how I feel about things. However, I think it will be easier for me to do it more nicely now.
As far as Matt, I will definitely back off and let him take the reigns when he wants to. Weird...that urge to meddle and "help"...
Now I need to decide if I should share this revelation with Matt. It's not about pride (mostly not). It's more that I have a bad habit of talking the talk, but not walking the walk. So I can analyze a subject into the ground and talk about how smart I am now and how great I am going to be...but not actually *do* anything about it. I want the actions to speak for themselves.
And this is such a strange HABIT of mine...I am going to have to forcibly stop myself from interfering when I see Matt put shorts on Jude that I wouldn't have put on him, for instance. I can do it though. But again, enough talk. Let's just do it.
I'll update in a few weeks. :)
In my meditative drive to work, I realized something....the very thing I was complaining about this person doing....I'm pretty sure I do the same thing to Matt quite frequently. Now that I am aware of this issue I have with someone else, I am aware of myself doing it. Huh.
This is insightful for 2 reasons:
1) It is insightful in the sense that I wonder how Matt feels about this. He is getting this from 2 different directions. I am sure he does not appreciate it anymore than I do. It makes me want to quit doing it, just b/c I know how it feels when it's done to me. I think *I myself* will stifle. Funny how it's easy enough to criticize someone else when you have your own dang problems you should fix first!
2) It is also insightful b/c now I see it more from her perspective, knowing how I feel when I do it to Matt. I am not in fact trying to be mean or bossy or pushy or meddling when I do that to Matt. In my mind, I am being helpful. Truly and sincerely, I think I am helping. Now I am almost 100% sure that that is what she is thinking, too. And I am almost 100% sure that it is equally annoying to Matt when I do it to him.
So what to do now? Does this mean I back off on her totally just b/c I understand better? Understanding is important. I think most of the things I mentioned her doing were no big deal in the grand scheme of life. The shoe thing was the worst, and I think Janel was right...that I handled it fine...and I in fact did not let her get her way. I just need to work on not dwelling on it after the fact.
Although she is trying to be helpful, I think it is within my rights to tell her that she is not in fact being so helpful, and to tell her how I feel about things. However, I think it will be easier for me to do it more nicely now.
As far as Matt, I will definitely back off and let him take the reigns when he wants to. Weird...that urge to meddle and "help"...
Now I need to decide if I should share this revelation with Matt. It's not about pride (mostly not). It's more that I have a bad habit of talking the talk, but not walking the walk. So I can analyze a subject into the ground and talk about how smart I am now and how great I am going to be...but not actually *do* anything about it. I want the actions to speak for themselves.
And this is such a strange HABIT of mine...I am going to have to forcibly stop myself from interfering when I see Matt put shorts on Jude that I wouldn't have put on him, for instance. I can do it though. But again, enough talk. Let's just do it.
I'll update in a few weeks. :)
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Stressed out...
The things that are stressing me out lately, in no particular order (elaborations to follow):
1) My son's switch to a new daycare.
2) My mother-in-law.
3) Having to get special permission simply to take a shower.
4) Feeling guilty for wanting some "me" time.
5) Not wanting anyone to get sick and not wanting anyone to die. Ever.
6) Worrying about being the best mother, wife, and person that I can be.
7) Not having enough time for, well, anything.
8) Various household tasks that I just cannot get done.
9) Worries about my friend situation.
10) Worries about what I want in life, why I'm here on the internet, and what I should alter.
Whew...that's a lot! I'm letting it all get to me. I'm not sure why. I am allowing myself to feel these things though, and to realize that I will get stressed out sometimes, and it's okay to not ALWAYS be cheerful and upbeat, and to sometimes feel stress.
The thing is, I'm okay throughout the day, simply b/c I am so busy I don't have time to think about it. But, last night for instance, I just could...not...sleep. I just lay there, worrying, crying, upset, worrying, not sleeping. My thoughts were driving me mad.
and I know my life is great and I am very happy and couldn't ask for more. So I don't know why I'm stressing. I think it's the accumulation of it all. If only it were one thing at a time, I could handle it better, I think.
I'm tired today and have a headache and my jaw hurts. It does that when I let stress get to me b/c I clench my jaw a lot.
I don't have feelings of anger. Mostly of anxiety and angst and worry.
It's going to be too long of a post if I write it out here. So, I'm going to break it down in separate posts, I think. More to come.
1) My son's switch to a new daycare.
2) My mother-in-law.
3) Having to get special permission simply to take a shower.
4) Feeling guilty for wanting some "me" time.
5) Not wanting anyone to get sick and not wanting anyone to die. Ever.
6) Worrying about being the best mother, wife, and person that I can be.
7) Not having enough time for, well, anything.
8) Various household tasks that I just cannot get done.
9) Worries about my friend situation.
10) Worries about what I want in life, why I'm here on the internet, and what I should alter.
Whew...that's a lot! I'm letting it all get to me. I'm not sure why. I am allowing myself to feel these things though, and to realize that I will get stressed out sometimes, and it's okay to not ALWAYS be cheerful and upbeat, and to sometimes feel stress.
The thing is, I'm okay throughout the day, simply b/c I am so busy I don't have time to think about it. But, last night for instance, I just could...not...sleep. I just lay there, worrying, crying, upset, worrying, not sleeping. My thoughts were driving me mad.
and I know my life is great and I am very happy and couldn't ask for more. So I don't know why I'm stressing. I think it's the accumulation of it all. If only it were one thing at a time, I could handle it better, I think.
I'm tired today and have a headache and my jaw hurts. It does that when I let stress get to me b/c I clench my jaw a lot.
I don't have feelings of anger. Mostly of anxiety and angst and worry.
It's going to be too long of a post if I write it out here. So, I'm going to break it down in separate posts, I think. More to come.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
(un)Comfortably Numb
I am in a strange phase right now. I can't feel anything emotionally. Maybe I'm a man. Kidding.
Historically, I've been known to be a drama queen, and to enjoy the melodramatic. I've had very black and white thinking, and immature ways of handling things. My reasoning was that I'm a "writer" (laughable) and that this is how writers live and think - leaning towards the melodramatic, the theatrics - and I thought this made my life exciting and eventful. I thought this made me "artsy".
I've matured over the years, and more recently I have become more grown-up with the way I handle conflict. I also took an anti-drama vow. I am so over drama, my own and everyone else's. I don't feed into it, I don't add to it, and I steer clear from it, in fact.
But at what price? Has this caused me to become emotionally void? I don't feel passionate about ANYTHING at the moment. I mean nothing. I don't feel upset about the lack of passion, although I am obviously aware of it as I am writing about it. I'm not depressed. I'm not on medication. I feel love still, like for my baby, and I'd describe that/him as my greatest passion of the moment I suppose.
Everything else though...nothing. No great IN LOVE feeling, no projects or sports or books or anything that I'm excited about. I'm just sorta here, existing. It's like I have stepped outside myself to observe myself without really taking part in how I'm feeling or how things are affecting me.
Nothing is wrong with my life. I'm not exactly complaining.
Dealing with conflict has become interesting. Again, I used to get overly upset and melodramatic when conflict came along. The last conflicting event in my life though is what I think sent me into this indifferent state of mind. I didn't want to fight or argue or get upset or cry or anything. I was very matter-of-fact about it all, grown up, mature, saw things for what they were, didn't take it personally.
I feel uninspired. I guess that's the drawback. Could be just a mood. Maybe simply a coping mechanism. I find myself intrigued with myself, heh. And slightly startled, if I was going to feel anything. Maybe surprised or amused are better words.
Perhaps it's the black and white thinking creeping in again. I'm either overly dramatic, or dead inside. Middle ground, come hither.
Historically, I've been known to be a drama queen, and to enjoy the melodramatic. I've had very black and white thinking, and immature ways of handling things. My reasoning was that I'm a "writer" (laughable) and that this is how writers live and think - leaning towards the melodramatic, the theatrics - and I thought this made my life exciting and eventful. I thought this made me "artsy".
I've matured over the years, and more recently I have become more grown-up with the way I handle conflict. I also took an anti-drama vow. I am so over drama, my own and everyone else's. I don't feed into it, I don't add to it, and I steer clear from it, in fact.
But at what price? Has this caused me to become emotionally void? I don't feel passionate about ANYTHING at the moment. I mean nothing. I don't feel upset about the lack of passion, although I am obviously aware of it as I am writing about it. I'm not depressed. I'm not on medication. I feel love still, like for my baby, and I'd describe that/him as my greatest passion of the moment I suppose.
Everything else though...nothing. No great IN LOVE feeling, no projects or sports or books or anything that I'm excited about. I'm just sorta here, existing. It's like I have stepped outside myself to observe myself without really taking part in how I'm feeling or how things are affecting me.
Nothing is wrong with my life. I'm not exactly complaining.
Dealing with conflict has become interesting. Again, I used to get overly upset and melodramatic when conflict came along. The last conflicting event in my life though is what I think sent me into this indifferent state of mind. I didn't want to fight or argue or get upset or cry or anything. I was very matter-of-fact about it all, grown up, mature, saw things for what they were, didn't take it personally.
I feel uninspired. I guess that's the drawback. Could be just a mood. Maybe simply a coping mechanism. I find myself intrigued with myself, heh. And slightly startled, if I was going to feel anything. Maybe surprised or amused are better words.
Perhaps it's the black and white thinking creeping in again. I'm either overly dramatic, or dead inside. Middle ground, come hither.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
LOUD NOISES!!!
I've just realized a ?manic? problem I have: I can't stand loud noises.
Right now it's fireworks time in our neighborhood, or firecrackers, or whatever. The type that make really loud noises. They have been going on non-stop for a couple of hours, and will continue until midnight, and then resume every night throughout July and probably into August.
I'm sitting at the computer feeling very tense. I just realized how tense I was. How to describe the feeling....
My eyebrows are furrowed into a worried looking frown. I feel nervous. I feel on edge. Each time another goes off, I feel uncomfortable. I can't relax. I'm worried about the baby waking up. I'm worried about the noise pollution. I'm wondering if this is legal, and why someone can't stop this. I have a ball of worry and tension in the pit of my stomach. I just want it to quit.
Dogs often reflect the personalities of their owners. Ours does for sure. She hates this, and is also tense. When she's outside, it's nonstop barking. When she's inside, she paces and whines and sits as close to me as possible.
She's always done this, and I always wondered what her problem was. But now I realize she's learned it from me. I internalize it all...it's not like I'm pacing the house and whining. I just sit here and feel tense in my head. Dogs are amazing creatures to sense such things.
However, the dog makes things 100 times worse for me. She is so nervous, that every time I move, she darts right in front of me in her nervousness, and keeps circling around me and/or darting out of my way and grunting, and generally acting like a freak...all of which adds to my tense state and sort of makes me mad.
And now reflecting on my noise aversion, I realize that loud noises in any context make me tense. When I'm at work, any kind of loud noise around my office (people talking too loud, someone playing their music too loud, nearby construction) practically paralyzes me and I can no longer work. I sit there trying to block the noise out, but I get that furrowed brow thing again and a tension headache and overall antsyness. I lose all focus.
Sometimes, my husband goes on task rampages at the same time I've decided it's time to relax. He's loudly putting away dishes, running back and forth between rooms slamming doors and making lots of noise. I can't relax, and sometimes have to leave the house b/c I can't take it anymore. And he's not even doing anything wrong!
And forget about it if he's working on a house project and starts yelling and cussing. That's just the way he does projects, but I always make myself scarce then.
Maybe I need some Valium...not sure. I'm not sure why loud noises bother me so much. Something from my past? Something about being an only child?
Or maybe I'm a nervous or uptight person? I don't like to think of myself as such, but this whole situation reminds me of the Victorian Age when women used to get a "case of the nerves" and would pass out all the time and had to use smelling salts. Actually, what I need is that other stuff they used to get addicted to b/c of nerves. Wait...let me Google...laudalum I think.
Another related thing that makes me nervous is fighting. I mean real life loud arguments between individuals...they make me very tense and nervous and I want to leave. Physical fighting, too...as in bar fights and the like. I feel the adrenaline rush that everyone else feels, but I also feel immediately uptight and upset and want to leave. And I am certain that this aspect of it does stem from a couple of childhood events. I automatically feel it when the firecrackers start going off.
Now, the planned 4th of July fireworks cities have do not make me nervous. It's something about it being a planned event and I'm there watching it, expecting the noise, wanting the show.
But in my neighborhood right now, I'm trying to do other things, the noises are not planned and not supposed to happen, and they are an outside irritant interfering with my thinking and my life. They invade my household and thus, my personal space.
Ah well...I could live in a war-striken country, and then I'd *really* have a reason to be tense. I'm lucky. Now, pass the laudalum. (and now the baby is crying...great. I'm telling you...these fuckers are LOUD)
Right now it's fireworks time in our neighborhood, or firecrackers, or whatever. The type that make really loud noises. They have been going on non-stop for a couple of hours, and will continue until midnight, and then resume every night throughout July and probably into August.
I'm sitting at the computer feeling very tense. I just realized how tense I was. How to describe the feeling....
My eyebrows are furrowed into a worried looking frown. I feel nervous. I feel on edge. Each time another goes off, I feel uncomfortable. I can't relax. I'm worried about the baby waking up. I'm worried about the noise pollution. I'm wondering if this is legal, and why someone can't stop this. I have a ball of worry and tension in the pit of my stomach. I just want it to quit.
Dogs often reflect the personalities of their owners. Ours does for sure. She hates this, and is also tense. When she's outside, it's nonstop barking. When she's inside, she paces and whines and sits as close to me as possible.
She's always done this, and I always wondered what her problem was. But now I realize she's learned it from me. I internalize it all...it's not like I'm pacing the house and whining. I just sit here and feel tense in my head. Dogs are amazing creatures to sense such things.
However, the dog makes things 100 times worse for me. She is so nervous, that every time I move, she darts right in front of me in her nervousness, and keeps circling around me and/or darting out of my way and grunting, and generally acting like a freak...all of which adds to my tense state and sort of makes me mad.
And now reflecting on my noise aversion, I realize that loud noises in any context make me tense. When I'm at work, any kind of loud noise around my office (people talking too loud, someone playing their music too loud, nearby construction) practically paralyzes me and I can no longer work. I sit there trying to block the noise out, but I get that furrowed brow thing again and a tension headache and overall antsyness. I lose all focus.
Sometimes, my husband goes on task rampages at the same time I've decided it's time to relax. He's loudly putting away dishes, running back and forth between rooms slamming doors and making lots of noise. I can't relax, and sometimes have to leave the house b/c I can't take it anymore. And he's not even doing anything wrong!
And forget about it if he's working on a house project and starts yelling and cussing. That's just the way he does projects, but I always make myself scarce then.
Maybe I need some Valium...not sure. I'm not sure why loud noises bother me so much. Something from my past? Something about being an only child?
Or maybe I'm a nervous or uptight person? I don't like to think of myself as such, but this whole situation reminds me of the Victorian Age when women used to get a "case of the nerves" and would pass out all the time and had to use smelling salts. Actually, what I need is that other stuff they used to get addicted to b/c of nerves. Wait...let me Google...laudalum I think.
Another related thing that makes me nervous is fighting. I mean real life loud arguments between individuals...they make me very tense and nervous and I want to leave. Physical fighting, too...as in bar fights and the like. I feel the adrenaline rush that everyone else feels, but I also feel immediately uptight and upset and want to leave. And I am certain that this aspect of it does stem from a couple of childhood events. I automatically feel it when the firecrackers start going off.
Now, the planned 4th of July fireworks cities have do not make me nervous. It's something about it being a planned event and I'm there watching it, expecting the noise, wanting the show.
But in my neighborhood right now, I'm trying to do other things, the noises are not planned and not supposed to happen, and they are an outside irritant interfering with my thinking and my life. They invade my household and thus, my personal space.
Ah well...I could live in a war-striken country, and then I'd *really* have a reason to be tense. I'm lucky. Now, pass the laudalum. (and now the baby is crying...great. I'm telling you...these fuckers are LOUD)
Monday, June 25, 2007
I could be buff if I wanted to...
My husband and I have a tendency to be negative at times, and we feed off each other with that. We can really dig a hole of negativity and bury ourselves in it when we feel like it. We also tend to lean towards thinking that people are out to intentionally fuck with us, and that God and Fate hate us. The worse one of us is, the worse the other is, and it really wears us down. We enjoy talking about it a little too much, with a lot of fuck that and fuck them and fuck that's...which is funny at first, but then you know, it gets to be self-defeating.
At the same time, we feed off each other's positivity as well. We will never be the do-gooder type of bubbly happy happy joy joy silly folk. However, we could be happier. And many times, we are. It's a challenge when one of us is feeling negative for the other to be positive.
Matt and I are lucky in so many ways. God and Fate don't really hate us. The biggest blessing is Baby Jude. The chances of us having a child were zero to none, so we were told. We tried in-vitro on a whim, not really sure if it would work, and the odds were against us. We prayed and prayed and prayed, and asked family and friends to pray for us, too. Praying is very unlike Matt & I, but we really wanted the power of positive thinking in this case to work for us. We truly believed in the cause.
And it worked. We have our Baby Jude. I STILL cannot believe it. How could we ever question our fate again? Or God? Seriously. We are as born-again as we are going to get. I thank God every day. I'm not sure if we even deserved this blessing. It wasn't supposed to happen, and it did. We are forever changed.
On a way, way less serious note: Another blessing for Matt & I is our body types. We are both thin. We can eat crap, and remain relatively thin.
I am into fitness, and I see people struggle with their weight and body type and eating habits every day. I'd like to say I'm a great person, but I'm really not. Matt & I are blessed with good genetics when it comes to fat ratios. We're just not fat! We do happen to be very active, but it's not really a choice we make. We just are. Well, I guess it is a choice. Or is it? It's a debate really. It's not like we say "we really should get up off our asses". We both are the type who don't mind parking far away in a parking lot. Walking doesn't kill us. And I see others circle and circle until they get that close spot, and they are usually overweight. And you can't use having kids as an excuse. We bring Jude all the time. He doesn't care if we park far away.
Here's the downside to our body type genetics: We both have so much more potential. We could both be really buff and cut individuals. But we think so much alike. We are minimalists. We're thin, people tell us we look good, so why bother with the extra mile crap? Matt's doctor just told him the other day that he is healthy and needs to do exactly what he is doing, and Matt hasn't worked out in 3 weeks and eats his fair share of crap!
I am doing the minimum in workouts and eating about 85% clean, but I wear a size 4, people are pissed b/c I'm not fat post-baby...knowing all that and knowing I'm not giving 100% as it is...what is my incentive? I'm getting by on the minimum.
Matt & I both have this roadblock. We are underachievers in our jobs and in this. It's like we get really close to achieving and overachieving, and then we stop ourselves and stay below that line. Why is this? It's like it's just too easy.
Now, after having baby, I have cut myself some slack with my first BFL challenge. I think it's okay for me to just go along while I figure out my schedule, and while I'm still nursing. I could really look and feel so much better. I am longing to go that extra mile my next challenge, and really push myself. I think I could be killer if I really pushed myself. I think I could achieve what many people only dream of. It's all right there in front of me, on a silver platter. So...what is stopping me? Something is. I'm not sure what it is, but something is stopping me. It's like I cannot just let myself be successful. It's hard to explain what goes on in my brain.
At the same time, we feed off each other's positivity as well. We will never be the do-gooder type of bubbly happy happy joy joy silly folk. However, we could be happier. And many times, we are. It's a challenge when one of us is feeling negative for the other to be positive.
Matt and I are lucky in so many ways. God and Fate don't really hate us. The biggest blessing is Baby Jude. The chances of us having a child were zero to none, so we were told. We tried in-vitro on a whim, not really sure if it would work, and the odds were against us. We prayed and prayed and prayed, and asked family and friends to pray for us, too. Praying is very unlike Matt & I, but we really wanted the power of positive thinking in this case to work for us. We truly believed in the cause.
And it worked. We have our Baby Jude. I STILL cannot believe it. How could we ever question our fate again? Or God? Seriously. We are as born-again as we are going to get. I thank God every day. I'm not sure if we even deserved this blessing. It wasn't supposed to happen, and it did. We are forever changed.
On a way, way less serious note: Another blessing for Matt & I is our body types. We are both thin. We can eat crap, and remain relatively thin.
I am into fitness, and I see people struggle with their weight and body type and eating habits every day. I'd like to say I'm a great person, but I'm really not. Matt & I are blessed with good genetics when it comes to fat ratios. We're just not fat! We do happen to be very active, but it's not really a choice we make. We just are. Well, I guess it is a choice. Or is it? It's a debate really. It's not like we say "we really should get up off our asses". We both are the type who don't mind parking far away in a parking lot. Walking doesn't kill us. And I see others circle and circle until they get that close spot, and they are usually overweight. And you can't use having kids as an excuse. We bring Jude all the time. He doesn't care if we park far away.
Here's the downside to our body type genetics: We both have so much more potential. We could both be really buff and cut individuals. But we think so much alike. We are minimalists. We're thin, people tell us we look good, so why bother with the extra mile crap? Matt's doctor just told him the other day that he is healthy and needs to do exactly what he is doing, and Matt hasn't worked out in 3 weeks and eats his fair share of crap!
I am doing the minimum in workouts and eating about 85% clean, but I wear a size 4, people are pissed b/c I'm not fat post-baby...knowing all that and knowing I'm not giving 100% as it is...what is my incentive? I'm getting by on the minimum.
Matt & I both have this roadblock. We are underachievers in our jobs and in this. It's like we get really close to achieving and overachieving, and then we stop ourselves and stay below that line. Why is this? It's like it's just too easy.
Now, after having baby, I have cut myself some slack with my first BFL challenge. I think it's okay for me to just go along while I figure out my schedule, and while I'm still nursing. I could really look and feel so much better. I am longing to go that extra mile my next challenge, and really push myself. I think I could be killer if I really pushed myself. I think I could achieve what many people only dream of. It's all right there in front of me, on a silver platter. So...what is stopping me? Something is. I'm not sure what it is, but something is stopping me. It's like I cannot just let myself be successful. It's hard to explain what goes on in my brain.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Are We There Yet?
This is my perspective on what it means to a woman to have an orgasm versus what it means to a man:
NOTE: Graphic material
There is the physical versus the mental nature of having sex. For women it's more mental. For men it's more physical.
There are very few absolutes in life. Of COURSE women can enjoy the physical, too. And sometimes it's all physical for women. Of COURSE men can be very mental about making love, too.
But when it comes to coming, men have a true physical need, while women really do not. It just feels good. Sure, if we are brought to the brink and nothing happens, it might be slightly uncomfortable or slightly annoying, but not physically painful.
I'm not a man, so I won't pretend to be one, although I've tried several times, hence the strap-on. KIDDING! Seriously though...through my many years of observation, it seems that men get a buildup whereupon they need a release. I don't know if it's exactly painful, but from all accounts, it seems to be pretty uncomfortable. I think men really NEED to masturbate if they are not releasing some other way, whereas women just do it b/c they can. Women may feel a little on edge if they don't get that release, but it's not like we've got semen building up in our balls that need releasing. It's just a muscle contraction for us. Having an orgasm releases endorphins, which feels good, but we're not getting blue balls.
So when sexual activity commences, for men, there is a definite ending - they come. Everyone knows that is what the aim is (sometimes, I'm unprepared for where "the aim" is, heh). Everyone knows that when that happens, it's over. Everyone knows that when it doesn't happen, it's not really over.
Have I, as a woman, ever collapsed on top of my husband and then rolled off as if we're all down now after I came? Ha ha - that would be funny to try. Nope - we keep pushing forward until he's done, too. He'll push forward for me, too, in the opposite situation. But, something is different...there is a momentary lapse in thrusting wherein he glows in his achievement, and then it's just different if he keeps trying to please me. I mean...he's DONE. It's just not the same. Yeah, we can restart him sometimes, but then we're looking at a marathon fuck. More below on that. Whereas if I get there, I'm not done. My vagina doesn't literally close up for business afterwards. Now THAT WOULD be funny.
I don't know why people try to deny it. Men who act like they don't care if they do get there are lying. Men who act like they are still interested in pleasing a woman afterwards...well, those men are great sports, and I'd advise holding onto them if you have one like that. I personally do not feel satisfied if my partner does not get there, because I know that is what he wants.
I'm not saying I'm nothing more than a latex vagina for him to jerk off into. I know a lot is indeed mental for him in regards to the fact that it is *me* he is doing this with, and he wants me to enjoy it, too. I'm just saying that none of us is going to be happy until he gets there.
Which brings me to my point, cuz I do have a point:
It is not as important for me to get there every time, but he thinks it is, b/c it is important for him to get there.
The minute I catch on to the fact that he wants me to get there, like RIGHT NOW, it's never going to happen. I can't make people laugh on demand, I cannot pee on demand, and I cannot orgasm on demand. The minute he says "are you going to come for me?", the answer would be no. This is my mental hang-up. I do not think most women are like this. Not really sure actually.
There is a myth that the longer the duration, the better (note I did not say that "the bigger the better" is a myth, :) ). Now, I am all for marathon fucks and they have their important place in my life. Believe me. I'm not a huge fan of the "enter/stroke/cum" quick succession of events either. Somewhere between marathon and quickness, I am happy. When I feel like we all are trying too hard, the desire starts to fizzle.
I think he feels the same; if he gets the sense that I'm not having fun and just waiting for him to finish, I think it becomes a mental struggle for him. too. And rightly so. It's hardly ever like that, but you know, we all have our moments of imperfection in the bedroom. Lots of variables that would require way too much writing.
I must add there are those times that I will *not* be happy unless I do get there. I'd say about 2 out of every 5 times I feel that way. I let him know, and he knows exactly what needs to be done in those instances. :)
Communication, as always, is the key. I don't mind saying, "I'm sorry. It's just not going to happen". However, I don't want him to take it as a personal failure on his part. I know he feels that way, but it totally is not the case for me. I am happy with it 9.5 out of 10 times, even if I don't orgasm. I'd rather tell him this than fake an orgasm.
I wonder which one makes him happier though? He wouldn't want me to fake it, but would he be happier thinking I came than he would be knowing the truth? Hmmmm. One of those "is he better off not knowing" dilemmas wherein him knowing maybe just makes ME feel good and guilt-free, but does not do much for him. I can't ask him, cuz of course he will say he doesn't want me to fake it. So, he'd have to really think I finished. Interesting.
Further, knowing that he wants to on his end and needs it, I *do* consider it a personal failure when he does not, which is very, very rare, but it's happened. No amount of explaining will convince me otherwise.
It sounds like I'm a hypocrite and am pegging women and men into their respective stereotypes. Perhaps, but I do believe there is a marked difference between men and women in general, in what they want out of sex, and what an orgasm means to each.
Many similarities exist, of course, and this is the stuff that a good marriage is built upon. I don't think the differences are bad; just something men and women should know about.
NOTE: Graphic material
There is the physical versus the mental nature of having sex. For women it's more mental. For men it's more physical.
There are very few absolutes in life. Of COURSE women can enjoy the physical, too. And sometimes it's all physical for women. Of COURSE men can be very mental about making love, too.
But when it comes to coming, men have a true physical need, while women really do not. It just feels good. Sure, if we are brought to the brink and nothing happens, it might be slightly uncomfortable or slightly annoying, but not physically painful.
I'm not a man, so I won't pretend to be one, although I've tried several times, hence the strap-on. KIDDING! Seriously though...through my many years of observation, it seems that men get a buildup whereupon they need a release. I don't know if it's exactly painful, but from all accounts, it seems to be pretty uncomfortable. I think men really NEED to masturbate if they are not releasing some other way, whereas women just do it b/c they can. Women may feel a little on edge if they don't get that release, but it's not like we've got semen building up in our balls that need releasing. It's just a muscle contraction for us. Having an orgasm releases endorphins, which feels good, but we're not getting blue balls.
So when sexual activity commences, for men, there is a definite ending - they come. Everyone knows that is what the aim is (sometimes, I'm unprepared for where "the aim" is, heh). Everyone knows that when that happens, it's over. Everyone knows that when it doesn't happen, it's not really over.
Have I, as a woman, ever collapsed on top of my husband and then rolled off as if we're all down now after I came? Ha ha - that would be funny to try. Nope - we keep pushing forward until he's done, too. He'll push forward for me, too, in the opposite situation. But, something is different...there is a momentary lapse in thrusting wherein he glows in his achievement, and then it's just different if he keeps trying to please me. I mean...he's DONE. It's just not the same. Yeah, we can restart him sometimes, but then we're looking at a marathon fuck. More below on that. Whereas if I get there, I'm not done. My vagina doesn't literally close up for business afterwards. Now THAT WOULD be funny.
I don't know why people try to deny it. Men who act like they don't care if they do get there are lying. Men who act like they are still interested in pleasing a woman afterwards...well, those men are great sports, and I'd advise holding onto them if you have one like that. I personally do not feel satisfied if my partner does not get there, because I know that is what he wants.
I'm not saying I'm nothing more than a latex vagina for him to jerk off into. I know a lot is indeed mental for him in regards to the fact that it is *me* he is doing this with, and he wants me to enjoy it, too. I'm just saying that none of us is going to be happy until he gets there.
Which brings me to my point, cuz I do have a point:
It is not as important for me to get there every time, but he thinks it is, b/c it is important for him to get there.
The minute I catch on to the fact that he wants me to get there, like RIGHT NOW, it's never going to happen. I can't make people laugh on demand, I cannot pee on demand, and I cannot orgasm on demand. The minute he says "are you going to come for me?", the answer would be no. This is my mental hang-up. I do not think most women are like this. Not really sure actually.
There is a myth that the longer the duration, the better (note I did not say that "the bigger the better" is a myth, :) ). Now, I am all for marathon fucks and they have their important place in my life. Believe me. I'm not a huge fan of the "enter/stroke/cum" quick succession of events either. Somewhere between marathon and quickness, I am happy. When I feel like we all are trying too hard, the desire starts to fizzle.
I think he feels the same; if he gets the sense that I'm not having fun and just waiting for him to finish, I think it becomes a mental struggle for him. too. And rightly so. It's hardly ever like that, but you know, we all have our moments of imperfection in the bedroom. Lots of variables that would require way too much writing.
I must add there are those times that I will *not* be happy unless I do get there. I'd say about 2 out of every 5 times I feel that way. I let him know, and he knows exactly what needs to be done in those instances. :)
Communication, as always, is the key. I don't mind saying, "I'm sorry. It's just not going to happen". However, I don't want him to take it as a personal failure on his part. I know he feels that way, but it totally is not the case for me. I am happy with it 9.5 out of 10 times, even if I don't orgasm. I'd rather tell him this than fake an orgasm.
I wonder which one makes him happier though? He wouldn't want me to fake it, but would he be happier thinking I came than he would be knowing the truth? Hmmmm. One of those "is he better off not knowing" dilemmas wherein him knowing maybe just makes ME feel good and guilt-free, but does not do much for him. I can't ask him, cuz of course he will say he doesn't want me to fake it. So, he'd have to really think I finished. Interesting.
Further, knowing that he wants to on his end and needs it, I *do* consider it a personal failure when he does not, which is very, very rare, but it's happened. No amount of explaining will convince me otherwise.
It sounds like I'm a hypocrite and am pegging women and men into their respective stereotypes. Perhaps, but I do believe there is a marked difference between men and women in general, in what they want out of sex, and what an orgasm means to each.
Many similarities exist, of course, and this is the stuff that a good marriage is built upon. I don't think the differences are bad; just something men and women should know about.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Pill Popping, aka Swallowing
Why is it that at 36 years old, I still cannot swallow pills well?
I have to drink milk in order to take pills. Nothing else works. Then no one can be in the room while I attempt my feat of pill swallowing. Especially Matt - he cannot watch me. I just cannot swallow with him staring at me [insert dirty joke here]. It's weird.
Even when alone finally, I sit there with the pill on the back of my tongue for what seems like forever, bobbing my head up and down trying to get my throat to accept this foreign object (more dirty jokes popping up in my head, but I'm not talking about that).
Once I finally swallow [hee - I can't get past that word!), half the time, the stupid thing turns completely sideways, wherein I can feel it slowly slide down my food tube inch by painful inch, until it becomes lodged somewhere between my throat and my stomach, forcing me to drink a gallon of milk to get it completely down. What's the deal with that?
The other half of the time, I swallow it completely wrong, it doesn't make it past the back of my throat, and I end up gagging and sort of puking it back up, and all the outer coating has rubbed off and it's all gross and stuff.
The culprit pill of the moment is my prescription prenatal vitamins, which I still take for breastfeeding purposes. I take one every day, and every day, it's a battle. They are not small, but they are not the biggest pills I've ever taken, and at least they are coated with that slimy stuff that makes them a tad easier to swallow (cuz you know, slimy=more swallowable).
I once tried to take these calcium pills clearly made for horses, and with no good coating. Forget about it. After 2 or 3 days of trying to force those suckers down, I gave up, and upped my milk consumptin instead.
So, how old am I again? Am I going to have to crush my pills or take all liquid medicine? Do we need to wrap my pills up in a treat like we do for the dog? Geesh.
I have to drink milk in order to take pills. Nothing else works. Then no one can be in the room while I attempt my feat of pill swallowing. Especially Matt - he cannot watch me. I just cannot swallow with him staring at me [insert dirty joke here]. It's weird.
Even when alone finally, I sit there with the pill on the back of my tongue for what seems like forever, bobbing my head up and down trying to get my throat to accept this foreign object (more dirty jokes popping up in my head, but I'm not talking about that).
Once I finally swallow [hee - I can't get past that word!), half the time, the stupid thing turns completely sideways, wherein I can feel it slowly slide down my food tube inch by painful inch, until it becomes lodged somewhere between my throat and my stomach, forcing me to drink a gallon of milk to get it completely down. What's the deal with that?
The other half of the time, I swallow it completely wrong, it doesn't make it past the back of my throat, and I end up gagging and sort of puking it back up, and all the outer coating has rubbed off and it's all gross and stuff.
The culprit pill of the moment is my prescription prenatal vitamins, which I still take for breastfeeding purposes. I take one every day, and every day, it's a battle. They are not small, but they are not the biggest pills I've ever taken, and at least they are coated with that slimy stuff that makes them a tad easier to swallow (cuz you know, slimy=more swallowable).
I once tried to take these calcium pills clearly made for horses, and with no good coating. Forget about it. After 2 or 3 days of trying to force those suckers down, I gave up, and upped my milk consumptin instead.
So, how old am I again? Am I going to have to crush my pills or take all liquid medicine? Do we need to wrap my pills up in a treat like we do for the dog? Geesh.
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