The Waterfall

I saved two people from drowning in Mexico. I was there, and I was the closest one to them. A mom and her son – maybe three years old. I hesitated. The people watching said I didn’t, but the only thing I remember between realizing they were drowning and being next to them was thinking ‘You’re not supposed to swim up to drowning people because they pull you under’. And then I swam up to them. I don’t remember swimming to them. I remember as she went under, she yelled ‘ayuda!’.

When I got to them, the mom was holding her son above water while she was submerged. She was going to drown to save him. I grabbed him and then her. There was a floaty there, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to get her too. I swam them to shore and that's when I started shaking. It still terrifies me to think about it. 

This is where it happened

I told my mom what happened, and she said that when I was really little, we went to Cabo to visit my aunt and I jumped into a pool. I was only a few years old, and couldn't swim. A stranger saved me.

The Run Away

YET AGAIN, I'm starting over. While I'm excited about the prospect of pursuing my own goals, and doing things to create confidence in myself, I'm also exhausted. When I look back at the chapters of my life, they aren't a consecutive line. They don't flow smoothly from one plan to the next. They end abruptly, like unrelated short stories by the same author, smashed together to make the book of my life.

The pages don't want to touch

Once upon a time, there was a girl from Colorado. She lived there until she was 22. Then she ran away to Mexico.

La la la, Life is easy...

Then she ran away to Chicago for grad school to escape the crazy lifestyle she had created and do something serious.

Can you see the look of total confusion at not knowing what to do next?

Then she ran away back to Mexico because she realized she didn't want to live in Chicago, and that Mexico was much more fun.

My Mexican Party Hat

Then she ran away, back home, to settle down and get a "Real Life". Husband, Career, Dog, House. The white picket fence fantasy.

Sure, why not throw in some hydrangeas.

Can you guess what the girl did next? She ran away! The middle east this time. A choice in partners was made, and she began to create the foundation for the picket fence fantasy... except instead of a fence, it was sand. Instead of a dog, it was more sand.

Something seems a little off...

The end. The end to the running-away. I'm going to start running-towards. I'm going to run towards my goals. MY goals, not the socially imposed ones. I'm going to run towards surrounding myself with people that are positive and who are improving their own lives. I'm going to start running towards a youth sexuality education center to help kids with questions. I'm going to start running towards a life of helping others, which having a career that affords me time AND money. I'll let you know how it goes.

Taco Salad

After taking the stairs (FROM THE GYM) to my apartment on the 31st floor, I thought to myself, 'I think I'll have a salad'. What is happening to me?

Ok, so it was taco salad, but it counts

This is coming from the girl who's college friend had to convince her that one big mac was really enough, but if she wanted two, she should at least breathe between them. Since moving, however, I've developed quite the health routine. Gym and stairs every other day, and yoga in between (the yoga is a new thing).

Maybe it was my loving father, who, concerned about my laptop lifestyle, said before I left, "Make sure you work out in Bahrain".  Thanks dad. Does he do this to my sisters? Or is it only me that, when I go over a certain poundage, he likes to sweetly tell me how I've filled out?

Maybe it's the new friend who competes in bikini fitness competitions. After I told her I've started working out, but that I don't really know what I'm doing, she offered to do a gym sesh together so I could develop a routine. Buz saw her in the gym, and he came back wide eyed, saying, "believe me baby, you DO NOT want to work out with her". He's afraid I may die. He might be right.

This isn't her, but it looks strikingly similar.

Maybe it's that new year's resolution to work out every other day that nags me. I promised myself I would be a healthier person in Bahrain. I put on about 10 pounds from the holidays and from Buzzy's mom's cherry torte, and I was hoping to shed it. However, since we don't own a scale, nor does our gym have one, I have no idea where I am in regard to that number. It seems silly to purchase one just to torture myself.

But what I know it is- I want to be healthy. I want to feel like the chick on the cover of the yoga DVD we bought. Not look like her, although that would be nice, but feel like her. When I moved to Mexico after college, I decided it was time for debauchery. I would eat the three a.m. tacos, I would drink the vodka cranberries, and I would eat cake every damn day. I didn't let go in college, and I was determined to do it. Now, starting this new fase of my life, I've taken a new route. It's time to get on the fitness schedule that I will keep for the next 5 years or so. I'll be in my... gulp... 30's after that, so I better get used to working out.

Who knows if I'll keep it up. I hope I will... at least until the end of January.

Harmonious Habitation

In a week, for the first time, I will be moving in with a romantic partner. I am feeling kind of... trepidatious.  A nice little mix of nervous, anxious and curious. Of course, I decided it was a topic for the last girls' night I had. They had some tips -

1. Have separate baskets for our respective stuff. That way, one person can put the other person's things away and the other person will know where to look for it.

2. A shut door means you're Done. There will no longer be the option of going home when I'm mad. I am home. It's something I'm not sure how to handle, but my brilliant friend said in her household, when  you are having a disagreement, and you're at the point where you can't take any more- you leave the room and shut the door. It gives just enough space where you can cool down, and collect your thoughts. My addition- the only reason either party should open the door is to apologize. We'll see how that goes. :)

3. Finally, there is the possibility of rules. Each person can write a rule, and the other person gets to write one of their own. Tit for tat. For example, I can't stand a messy toothpaste tube. My rule may be to wipe off the toothpaste when it gets messy. His corresponding rule may be that I can only have one pair of shoes out at a time. One rule for one rule. Then we can see what things are really important, and which are things we can let go.

I was and am very grateful for these co-habitant hints.  Please tell me what tips you've learned over the years of living with another person (who you happen to love). 

Could Need CoDA

On two rare occasions, I have been able to read the personal journals of people close to me. (With permission of course.) I was impressed with the meta level thinking and deep analysis of life that they wrote of. I looked back on my own journal after both instances, and felt... shallow. The only thing I really wrote about, with no one looking, was boys.

When I do a recap of my life, it's characterized by phases of my education (high school, under grad, grad school) but more so by relationships. (When I was dating so and so.) I'm sure I could find other ways to file away information, but when I'm being honest, it's about who I was dating. Taking the journal and the life chapter analysis into consideration, I have to think, something is wrong here.

Why would an educated woman be so boy crazy? After some traumatic events at the hand of a long distance relationship I actually want to keep, I took a good hard look inside my motives. I can't be alone. A sneaking thought has been with me ever since a class back in undergrad (aka Jeremy Time). We were studying the Self, and we had to read a book about Co-Dependents Anonymous (CoDA). We used them as a case study for revealing the self, but we also had to learn about the actual group. We looked at the common patterns for Codependents, and I remember them hitting a little too close to home. As a 21 year old, I buried it. I didn't want to join a 12 step program. I didn't want to admit there could be anything wrong with me at all.

I'm not 21 anymore. Maybe it doesn't end up being as bad as I thought, maybe it's just a stepping stone into a more conscious life. Or maybe, with the help of this group, I admit that I have felt for a long time that I have a problem with being codependent on my partners. I've yearned for affection and attention at an unhealthy level. I've manipulated and lied in so many relationships, and I always thought that the right guy would fix that. If it happens in all my relationships, then the common denominator is me.

I'm sure there will be more on this to come, I'm at the beginning. As cliche as it is, I'm at step one. I'm admitting I have a problem.

Long Distance

He asked for More Time...



She responded I Will Wait...

A life with Substance

Today is an Up. Yesterday, a down. The majority of relationships that I've been in have been roller coaster relationships. Wicked fights and passionate make ups. I've also been in vanilla pudding relationships, but those usually don't last as long. Does it mean that I thrive on instability? My current partner says that ups and downs are to be expected, but I'm like an EKG with these wicked spikes. Thankfully, we are mostly up, but the downs are pretty bad. Most - no, all - of the bad days have been days with drinking involved.

When my parents met, they were a couple of drinking, smoking party animals. This worked for them for a while, but eventually, my mother joined AA and became sober in all respects. My father reluctantly followed suit and quit drinking. My mother always says that substance abuse was the hardest obstacle for their marriage, and perhaps was the end of it.

As I look forward to my future, I wonder if there will be a point that I stop drinking all together. Furthermore, if I do, wonder if I'll need my partner to quit as well. I've brought it up, but didn't get great results. Do normal people cut back on drinking when they get older? I mean, there are probably less crazy party nights, but we all know the older person at the bar, constantly getting wasted. How do I know I won't end up as or with someone like that? What's the cut off age for party nights? Is it your bachelor or bachelorette party? Is the expectation that I'll eventually have a dry house something that I need to bring up now? I'm wondering if I need to talk about my eventual need for a life with out substances.