Years ago, I ran in a 10k race in Eugene, Oregon. Up until the event, I hadn't run more than 2 miles, but the race was packed with energetic, excited women and I got caught up in the frenetic buzz. I ran a seven minute mile right out of the shoot. Problem was, I wasn't a runner, I was more of a walker. And I ultimately finished the race in Last Place, but I didn't care because I was victorious from having shown up and for having finished.

Fast forward to this afternoon, where I was completing my pre-screen interview for the training position in Denver. The recruiter surprised me by inviting me to ask my questions first. Then, she requested high level summary responses to her questions. I answered to the best of my ability, but frankly, I'm not in Pro Form. At the conclusion of the interview, I asked, "Given the qualities and experience you're seeking, what parallels do you see with my experience base and skill set?" "To be perfectly candid," she replied smoothly, "I do see some transference of skills, but not as many as some of our other candidates." And in that moment, I felt a single burst of wind blow right through me.

I don't feel victorious from this experience. I feel sad. To my core.

And I can't stop the questions from rampaging through my head: Why didn't I mindfully prepare higher level responses? When did my life shift so radically that I impress very few people? What does this mean for the rest of my life if I can't land my dream job?

And finally, the most poignant one of all: What the hell am I going to do now?

Dear Jen

You and I have never met, but I know you.

You're a good person, proud of who you are. You've raised two kids, and you've done it competently through all of the ups and downs. You are loyal and loving with your family...along with funny, creative and generous. Your career has been marked with achievement and your colleagues respect you. And most apparent to me, you're a gifted writer. Insightful, humorous, sometimes caustic, and always profound.

I sat in envy as I read all about you and your loving and supportive husband...your very own, biological kids...and a father who is respected by the community - someone who probably mentored you, exposed you to higher lessons, took you on vacations...a man you could feel proud to call your dad.

Things rolled along nicely. Until I voiced My Opinion. Something that you never requested. Something that came blasting out of me like a cannon.

I've learned alot from our interaction.

• It's not my role to shape other peoples' lives, and I'm sorry I took that task upon myself with you.
• Blogs are a place for people to vent and explore their own lessons as they unfold.
• Supportive insight goes a lot farther than critical insight.
• I never intended to sound Righteous, because God knows, there are very few perfect qualities in me.

I'm glad you found your way over to this blog. Perhaps this was Destiny for us both.

Mea Culpa and Optimus Vota. I'm glad you're well.

I've always believed that God talks to me in many, different ways.

Through the opening of my heart when I'm in deep prayer.

Through the freshness and beauty of nature being absorbed by my mind in a way that causes me to develop a new perspective on things.

Through closed doors and open doors in my day to day existence.

A lot of doors have been closing, especially at work. And conflict is literally swirling around me. For the first time, I have issues with almost every other department head. Yes, I'm culpable in a couple of instances (i.e. I turned my expense reports in late so accounting is not pleased with me), but my actions have never been escalated the way they are right now. It occurs to me that God may be sending me a message. I'm a slow learner, I know.

But does my life really have to crumble like blue cheese before I finally get the hint?

Stand Up and Fight.

My husband sat me down yesterday to have a chat.

"Jill, I've been thinking. Terrible things have been happening that are out of your control. You couldn't control the fact that Ann died. You don't control what is happening to your mother. It's time to let it all go and not let everything continue to overwhelm you. It's time for you to get your 'fight' back."

With that being said, he then left the room to go clean the garage.

What is it with men and their garages? Why do they feel that their lives are in order if the garage is tidy?

I can only parallel this to women and their weight.

So obviously, my world is rocking. And I keep daydreaming that a move to Denver is going to fix everything, when the truth is that I need to start fixing things now. To focus on the things that I can control...things that pertain directly to me.

To regain a sliver of strength over my destiny. And not let these circumstances bring about the End of Me.

Rather than beat around the bush, I've decided to list the #1 reason why I no longer enjoy living in the Bay Area.

Other examples?

Look at this. And this.

And this. Yes, you're reading this correctly. A lovely one bedroom, one bathroom home in Los Gatos with 738 square feet is listed for $850,000. And it will invariably sell.

I'm not saying that these aren't perfectly sweet homes. But really, now. Has the world gone mad?

On Friday night, we ordered take-out from a local Japanese restaurant. I didn't have a menu...I just ordered two beef sukiyakis. Which is essentially thinly sliced beef in a sweet broth with clear noodles and cabbage.

My husband went to pick them up and came home with the bill. The cost? $17.00 each.

For. Beef. Broth.

Thus qualifying for reason #8 of why I no longer enjoy living in the Bay Area.

My Ability to Blog is...Clogged.

We have been so busy running from crisis to crisis, I have lost the ability to reflect. I have no interest in learning anything right now. Too much intensity and drama is hitting me in torrents, and I don't have the capacity to take anything else "in."

Mom is still in the hospital and her hemoglobin keeps falling. Which means she may require more transfusions and surgery to find the new source of internal bleeding.

Bax has an advanced URI, which is highly contagious in cats. Which means the other 5 felines in this household will require antibiotics and a vet bill of $100+. Each.

My deceased sister's business is being run by my older sister Denise. The suppliers recently refused to fulfill the orders because they were notified of my sister's passing. We are up to our necks in paperwork to nominate Denise as the executor.

Denise and I realized this week that we need to talk to my parents about giving us power of attorney for their finances. We need to sell the house, sell the cars/belongings...actions that require our ability to sign the paperwork. Who knows when all of this can actually be done - we also must do the same with Ann's condo and belongings. And with mom in the hospital and certainly requiring rehab when she finally is released...

Oy vey. It's only 8:30am in the morning and I am exhausted.

Mom was downgraded from critical care last night. We're hoping that she'll be transferred to a rehab hospital by Monday. My sister leaves tonight to return to her home in Southern California. I don't want her to leave. Not only because she's been a huge help in taking care of mom, but also because I love her and she's fun to be with. And that helps me to get through the day.

I saw a Mini-Couper on the freeway today...and I smiled.

Then, I read this blog and my heart wept. It's where I have gone when I was sad or bored or lonely or exhausted. It always surprised me, impressed me, made me think deeply about life and my place in it.

I feel as though Calvin & Hobbes was retired...all over again.

The hospital has assigned a liver specialist to monitor my mom's progress. He called me this morning to make several inquiries about her history, and I asked him for an update on her health.

"I have to be honest, it isn't a good story," was his reply.

After that, I pretty much blanked out.

My mom is deeply frightened and doesn't want to be left alone in the hospital, so my sister Denise is flying up tomorrow to lend moral support. (We both wanted her to get up here today, but Denise is due in court tomorrow to be awarded Power of Attorney for my sister Ann's estate.) Both she and I are shell-shocked and worried about the near future. All that we are praying for is for mom to get well enough to get back to her apartment, to live in peace for just a little while...to just feel a little bit of sustained happiness...something that she really has never had much of before.

We just returned from the hospital after spending 9 hours there with my mom. She woke up this morning and discovered that her right leg had turned black. She was bleeding internally, and we couldn't identify the source.

After many tests and several hours, we learned that she isn't supposed to be on a medication called coumadin for more than 6 months (it's been 1+ year). This drug is a blood thinner and protects the patient from blood clots.

Mom's blood is so thin from taking the meds for so long, she was listed as "Critical." The ER staff didn't mention why no one brought this up during mom's multiple visits in October and November. Nor could they imagine why the prescribing physician didn't place an expiration date on the prescription - so it couldn't be refilled.

My mom is in the hospital tonight and receiving her first unit of blood about now. She initially screamed, "No transfusion. I'm in San Francisco...I don't want aids." (This was an extremely awkward moment.) After consulting with my sister Denise, mom changed her mind and agreed to the transfusion(s). Let's hope they work.

Yesterday, we found out that my niece Julie (who was one of my flower girls) either has a brain tumor or schizophrenia. Her parents are the ones with the meth addiction, and they don't have any health insurance or money for a cat scan. I am scrambling to talk to Julie's doctor to see if there is a way for us to cover the cost. The test needs to happen Pronto. I'm worried about her prognosis.

I'm tired. I'm sad. I'm overwhelmed by these issues that keep pounding my family. I am thisclose to lighting candles, smoking ground bat wings and shaking a rubber chicken over my head.

Unbelievable.

Reason #42 why I no longer enjoy living in the Bay Area.

Spousetrap

Am I angry at my husband for quitting his $40/hour job? No. He was miserable, and I supported his decision. His health was failing, his eyesight was being damaged, and he didn't respect his boss or his peers.

Am I angry that my husband started his own business to paint murals and do faux treatments? No way. We talked about this opportunity for him to pursue his dream. I was behind him 100%. I went into this knowing full well that his income would split in half. Immediately.

Am I angry that my husband's business tanked last year and he earned $10/hour? No. He worked really hard and did everything he could to find new business. He's genuinely distraught over his results last year - and he didn't have much fun either.

Am I angry that my husband adamantly refuses to get a job? Yes. All kinds of issues come up for me on this. I've explained to him that I am exhausted and that I need to shift down. He understands that if I leave my job we can't afford the house and we won't have medical insurance. He takes zero ownership in being a reliable provider for the family. And even though he acknowledges that the last 5 years have not resulted in a viable business...he refuses to consider any other employment. R-E-F-U-S-E-S. And this is the part that I just don't "get." He's not supporting me in the way that I supported him 5 years ago. I agreed to "bear the load" while he developed his business. Now, I'm asking him to do the same for me so I can slow down and rest and rebuild my health...and he won't do it. He's not even embarrassed to admit it.

Do I love my husband? Yes, with all my heart.

Which is why I feel so trapped.

I wish I could go back to the days when life was so much more simple. When all I cared about was how I looked, who I was dating, how much I weighed. It was easy to believe that I Could Do Anything that I Wanted to Do. And nothing worried me too much, because I had a long, long life ahead of me. I was in search of Finding Myself...and I loved every minute along the way.

Now that I have been Found...well...how utterly disappointing.

Don't Pat Yourself on the Back Too Hard, OK?

It was a low day.

My mind kept racing in circles.

"I want to change jobs, but I can't shift into a lower paying job and still live in the Bay Area. We'll have to move, but I don't have a new job and I want to go now because I am miserable to my core. But that's unreasonable and irresponsible. I'm being immature and selfish. A better life is only a dream. So - I - must - stay - put."

"I want to change jobs, but I can't shift into a lower paying job and still live in the Bay Area. We'll have to move, but I don't have a new job and I want to go now because I am miserable to my core. But that's unreasonable and irresponsible. I'm being immature and selfish. A better life is only a dream. So - I - must - stay - put."

"I want to change jobs, but I can't shift into a lower paying job and still live in the Bay Area. We'll have to move, but I don't have a new job and I want to go now because I am miserable to my core. But that's unreasonable and irresponsible. I'm being immature and selfish. A better life is only a dream. So - I - must - stay - put."

"I want to change jobs, but I can't shift into a lower paying job and still live in the Bay Area. We'll have to move, but I don't have a new job and I want to go now because I am miserable to my core. But that's unreasonable and irresponsible. I'm being immature and selfish. A better life is only a dream. So - I - must - stay - put."

I'm in agony and feel completely stuck. Every day is like walking through pudding.

I've prayed. I've requested a prayer chain from my family. I'm on meds. I let myself cry when the urge hits me. I'm trying to give to others. And I'm trying to keep moving forward.

But my life's momentum has slowed to a stop, and I keep asking, "Why? Is this all there is? Is this what I have busted my yams for? Where is the Joy? What the hell am I doing?"

I tried to talk to my husband about it. I said something like, "Remember when you did pre-press and you were miserable? You didn't like your peers, you didn't like your boss, you didn't like being bossed around, you didn't like the pressure. Remember what that felt like?"

Yeah, " he replied. "At least I did something about it."

That response sent me into stunned silence.

Stunned Silence.

If I were to follow his lead, I would quit my job, release the 401k benefits, sick time and health coverage, and earn $10 an hour.

Yeah buddy, you're a hero. No, make that a Super Hero.

Because You Did Something About It.

A Walk Down Memory Lane.

I don't really know what came over me. I was sitting by the fire, thumbing my way through the direct mail catalogs yesterday, when I spotted this....this DVD filled with cartoons from my childhood.

I remember watching Casper the Ghost every afternoon after school. Mighty Mouse and Popeye too. I can't wait to see if this series also has AquaMan or Speed Racer or Gigantor.

I'm positively giddy over this!


BTW, I bought it from here. I even got free shipping.

I'm glad you're OK, Mr. Squeaks.

Oh, plus a few (more) of these. 

I suppose now I'm going to have to get one of these. 

The Inevitable.

After my sister Ann lost her two cats Murray and Madison, she was inconsolable. So we encouraged her to go out and get a kitten...in a hurry. She came home later that day with 2 kittens, Lennard and Nelson. They are brothers, and they are both orange tabbies.

If Lennard was a human, he would be Prince Harry. He has the same sort of sweet, freckly face with the wild, mangy hair. Nelson has a bobbed-tail and his posture is slanted, meaning his rear end sits higher up in the air than his shoulders. When he runs, his hind legs sort of hop together. It's really, really cute.

Ann had the boys for about 2 years before she passed away. For the last 4 weeks, they've been living alone in the condo, only seeing my other sister Denise every other day for fresh food and water and about an hour of cuddles.

My husband and I knew that we would have to take them. Denise already has 2 cats of her own that are semi-terrorized by a screaming/chasing 3 year old toddler named Pierce. I knew that she wouldn't be able to adopt them. And because Ann loved those cats with all of her heart, I also knew that there was no way we could ever give them away - no matter how good the home.

It really came down to this: My husband and I have always felt that my sisters should take our cats if anything ever happened to us. So we feel duty-bound to do that which we expected. Plus, it's a final way to honor my sister.

The addition of Lennard and Nelson means that we will have a total of 6 cats. In my little, three bedroom, 1.5 bath home. We have cleared the additional space in the garage that we'll need to house a total of six cat boxes. Not to mention the two, 20lb bags of kitty food. And the four boxes of kitty litter.

We haven't told any of our neighbors about this. We hope to sneak the cats into the house at night...to avoid the confession that yes, we adopted two more.

In essence, it's a rescue mission...and an act of love.

One of the Reasons I Like Being a Manager

Today, I officially thanked my 3 supervisors for covering all aspects of our department business while I was out for 2+ weeks on bereavement.

I invited them out to lunch and blocked 3 hours on the calendar.

First, I drove toward the restaurant...but veered off into the opposite direction at the last minute, citing heavy traffic. I stopped the car in front of Nordstrom...where I promptly gave each of them a $100 gift card for an immediate shopping spree. The looks on their faces are etched forever in my mind...they were utterly surprised. Kelly actually squealed. They walked into the store together, and then I saw them split into separate directions and almost run to their desired department. When they were done, they each walked out of the store swinging their bag with delight.

Then, we went here and dined on Chicken Parmesan sandwiches. We laughed, we talked about our Super Bowl plans, and we caught up on the personal details that have been cast aside because of the heavy work schedule.

It was a fabulous afternoon.

and then there were two

This is a picture of me with my oldest sister, Denise. I never, ever thought it would be just the two of us.

I can't stop thinking...what if something happens to me? Denise will be alone. Forever. Or what if something happens to her?? Who would I call? There is no one on this planet who could ever replace her.

Just as there is no one who will ever replace Ann.

Ah, geez. I miss her.

My hypnotist, who I will now refer to as Susan, made several recommendations for activities that I could do to begin the healing process. She had to work really hard to help me identify things that would exhilarate me.

Take walks on the beach. Spend time in the mountains...listening to the quiet murmur of the wind. Exercise in a fun way, rather than go to the gym. (We came up with lifting weights while I watch Law & Order reruns in the privacy of my family room.) Journey to Bimini or Hawaii to swim with dolphins in the ocean.

...OK, that last one really talked to me.

These programs are designed to help people heal. I've been assured that folks of all ages, shapes and sizes attend and many are there for help through a serious health problem.

So I'm researching, talking to my husband, and figuring out a way to do this.

Swim with dolphins.

That is exhilarating!

Don't Hate Me Because I Am Anxious.

I spent the day at doctor's appointments yesterday. I haven't felt healthy or happy for a very long time.

For the record, I am an anti-pill kind of person. I don't like to take prescriptive medicines and do my best to avoid them. However, several years ago, I fell into a depression and I couldn't pull myself out. At the time, it was the issue of my dad requesting that I take a DNA test to prove his firmly held belief that I was not his biological daughter. That really threw me for a loop and I wasn't able to recover on my own, so I started taking (gasp) depression medication. I remember feeling so low, I couldn't stop crying. I really didn't have a choice but to take the pills.

About two years ago, I switched meds and started taking Effexor because I'd read a bunch of articles that stated it impacted hunger and helped people lose weight.

Negatory, my friends. Effexor has been a disaster for me. The first year, I slept through every weekend. I was dazed and numbed-out at all times. The only benefit to the pill is that it reduced my anxiety, and for the first time, I found some element of mental peace. So I stayed with it. And I gained 45 pounds. Yes, 45 pounds.

Before you start shaking your head, you need to know that anxiety is a horrible condition, and chosing to gain weight vs being anxious is simply a terrible trade-off. I don't wish it on anyone.

Yesterday, my (new) doctor switched me to Zoloft. It should continue to help with the anxiety, but it is also supposed to cut down on the Carb Cravings that Effexor seems to induce. It's also known for perking people up. I hope this helps with my mental clarity, which has taken a real hit over the last two years.

I also spent time with a hypnotist yesterday. That was an amazing experience...I could feel myself healing while we met. I'll write more about this experience at a later time.

I am planning to call the accupunturist and the physical therapist today to schedule appointments. And most importantly, I am planning to travel 30 minutes to the coast to walk on the beach at least once a week. To feel the ocean breeze on my face and allow nature to rebuild me.

I want to be healthy again. Inside and out.



p.s. (It is with great pain that I write today, as I weigh my concerns over my blog buddies knowing that I take depression medication. Funny, I've never been one to bow down to a stigma, and yet....here I am.)

It was still dark outside when we woke-up this morning. In my daze, I heard my neighbor pulling his car out of the driveway to go to work. He leaves at 6:30am everyday.

I was about to turn over and go back to sleep, when my husband asked me, "Do you hear that?" I propped my head up and listened for a moment...until I heard something from far away come into focus.

It was the sound of birds singing. Spring is on its way!