Daily Cup of Projection

Today, there seems to be a lot of people around me, asking the questions. 
They are the questions that at some point in your life you must ask, if you are
on the path.  The answers to these questions, are in the mirror, and have just
been waiting for you.

 I have been divorced nearly nine years now.  I thought for sure, I would find
my next prince, and I would finish living the rest of my life with him in wedded
bliss. Well I guess Prince Charming fell off his horse on the way to my house,
because that has not happened.  There have been some loves, some I even thought
I would spend my life with, but  that did not come to pass.

 The one thing I have learned in my time alone, is how when there is another
person around, it sure is easy to toss you unresolved issues all over them, and
then somehow make it look like their fault.  I am  now developing the very
things that used to make me crazy with my ex-s.  When you are the only one that
uses the walk in closet, the “who’s side is cleaner” game, ceases to be fun. 
Now both sides are mine, and they are a mess.  I used to go nuts when my ex 
carelessly left his ATM slips around the car and house, while I proudly kept
track of mine, and would methodically check them off in my check book.  I barely
even take them from the ATM machine now.  I have a slight intention to deduct
them, but I don’t.  There is no longer someone to be better than now, only me,
doing what I do, exactly the way I want to.  Now, I see projection in the way I
relate to my kids.  I will often go into my son’s room and scold him for his
lack of organization, then go into mine and see that I have not unpacked my
suitcase since last summer, and there are books all over my floor, and clothes
hanging all over my inversion table, that I never use.  Not once, have either of
my children ever come into my room and told me it was a pig sty.  So, I am
trying to be mindful of not expecting from them, or anyone, that which I do not
do myself.

 If I feel like my kids are being lazy, I will go for a walk.  If I feel like
someone is not treating me properly, I will treat myself with respect by
speaking my truth.  I am a sensitive woman, and it has been used against me my
whole life.  Sensitivity is good right?  I have come to learn, that I can only
feel hurt about something, if I hold that belief within me somewhere.  I believe
the more I rid myself of things that pinch me emotionally, the less I will need
to use anyone else to relieve my own pain.  When the pain is too much for us to
accept and process, we often throw it to the ones we love the most, like a hot
potato that lands in the innocent hands of the people closest to us.  When I do
this to my kids, they know enough to say, “Mom, don’t project your stuff onto
us.”  I have taught them well, and although I am far from not doing this from
time to time, we are all at least on the same playing field here in my home.

 If I ever do marry again, I will bite my tongue about the many things that
used to drive me crazy.  It seems I used those experiences as some kind
measuring stick to make myself feel bigger and better. Anytime we are are
feeling superior or inferior, we are in some kind of fear.  I will still always
believe that I make coffee the best way, but even that, I will just have let go
of, and shut up and watch.  And if I am lucky, perhaps he will bring me a cup in
the morning, along with a kiss, while I am getting ready in my half of the
bathroom, that will no longer be perfect.  Sometimes I do not even put the lid
back on the toothpaste, because hey, I just don’t have to anymore.

Daily Cup of Details

Well, short of having to deal with my credit card company, I am currently in
the throws of negotiating details with doctors, hospitals, insurance companies
and the DMV.  Having to sift through the daunting task of all this red tape, not
to mention having to listen to hours of horrifying music while on hold, while
repeatedly hearing how valuable my call was, really gives me an opportunity to
go postal, or take the higher road.  My son needs his ACL repaired this
Thursday, and trying to get any info on how much this surgery is going to cost
us, is apparently entrusted only to the secret service.  I finally left a
message saying that if I did not get some kind of baseline numbers I was going
to cancel his surgery.  Now, mind you, he is not in pain, and we could have
waited, another week or so.  Well, after that message, I received a call within
ten minutes, from his assistant finally giving me some idea of cost.  I told
her, “Next to buying my home, this is the biggest purchase of my lifetime,” and
I cannot imagine just going into this blind.  I understand they cannot give me a
specific total, but they can at least give me a starting point.  So, we are now
scheduled for surgery this Thursday, but not without at least ten phone calls,
and threats of cancellation.  I do not understand this keeping people in the
dark, only to slam them with this huge bill, after the fact, then expect them to
pay for it without having any financial arrangements.  I would love to obtain a
car this way, just drive off the the lot, yelling, “I will let you know how much
I can pay, as soon as I know.”  I worked in dentistry for years, and our motto
was “Inform, before you perform.”  I just don’t think this is too much to
ask.

If this was not enough red tape, I had to throw in the DMV all on the same
day.  I braved the one in Carson, only to find it looked like there had been a
national disaster, and they all showed up there.  The energy in that building
was toxic, like I needed a gas mask just to endure the negatively that swirled
through the ominous lines.  There were twenty five people just in the
information line.  I interviewed several of the people about the the protocol
for getting a license, and decided to abort that facility, and take a two hour
round trip to Yerington, to be able to speak to a human.  The phone number on
the web site did not work, and referred me to another number where no one
answered.  Once again, I was faced with getting angry with all that I was
powerless over, or getting creative. I picked up my son after school, and told
him we were taking a drive all the way to Yerington so he could hopefully get
his license before this huge surgery on Thursday.  I was shuffling documents all
the way there, not at all sure that we had every piece of paper needed to get
his license, in addition to a DNA sample, finger prints, proof of birth,
including his umbilical cord stump, and the hat he came home from the hospital
in. We tentatively  entered the DMV.  Well, this one was full too, same pinched
up faces, long sighs and bad energy, only on a much smaller scale with cows a
hundred feet away.  I boldly asked a question while the clerk was helping
someone else, as I did not want to wait for an hour, only to be told he could
not take his test that day.  She looked up sternly from behind her dated
glasses, and informed me that we would need an appointment.  I figured as much,
but at least I got to speak to a human, even if we had to drive two hours round
trip to get a response.  I proudly came home with a yellow sticky, and a number
for the Yerington DMV, and felt like I had come home from the hunt triumphant. 
My son said, “This was a waste of your time,” to which I responded, “No son,
this was well worth it.”  It was a beautiful drive, I got the information I
needed from a human, and got to spend two blissful hours with my sixteen year
old son, alone, in his new, old Caddy, while we talked about the ways of the
world, and he attempted to educate me about the meaning of his music, and I
listened.  Yes, I listened, and for that I am grateful to the quagmire the
institutions, because it gave me time with my son.