What Shall Today Bring?

I've noticed I'm rapidly coming to the point that caused me to abandon ship all the times before.  I'm starting to feel again.  I'm starting to not immediately put my emotions in  lockbox the instant I notice them.  This is a scary place.  All the negative Don'ts are coming out again when I feel them.
"Ladies don't get mad."
"Angry?  Do you want a reason to be angry?"
You're not dying, so you shouldn't be sad."
"What the hell are you so damn happy over?"
"Wipe that shit eating grin off your face or I will."
And so on.
One of the Al- Anon books suggests overriding negative self talk with positive slogans. Another suggestion is taking all of those negative self talks, writing them down, and putting them away physically.
Actually allowing myself to feel things is scary.  I hafta not only feel them, but figure out what is socially acceptable to show.  I obviously can't punch a wall every time I'm angry or break into tears every time I'm sad. Sometimes, the emotion itself is a scary one that I generally try to avoid, because it's a Bad Feeling.  It's one a regular person shouldn't admit to having. I realize most humans experience most, if not all, of these negative emotions.  I'm just afraid of pushing people away with the Bad emotions.
This is not a place I want to be.  This is not a path I want to take.  I need to take it.  I've turned away from this path, at this point, several times before. Dealing with who I actually am and what I actually feel isn't pleasant.
What is this emotion?  I recognize the heart squeezy feeling.  I recognize the anxiety.  I think this is dread. I acknowledge the dread.  Dread is brought on by fear. I recognize the fear and acknowledge it by name: fear of abandonment. I hold the dread and the fear as the tiny little rat babies they are in my hands. I recognize the worry over what comes next.
I can do this. I can be honest with myself and feel the true emotion.  I might even be able to name them. This next step is a giant leap into unknown territory.  Then again, Neil Armstrong only put one foot at a time on the moon as he uttered "That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind."  If one movement at a time put humans on the moon, one movement at a time will edge me towards sanity.

Emotions, Part 3

Today's been a hard day.  I've been up and down, up and down, with very little forward momentum. I've been feeling stuck, like I'm spinning my wheels, because I'm not sure where to go.  I tried to do some digging on where to go, only to be told to wait at every instance.
Patience is not my strong suit.  I don't wait easily or well. I do it because I must, but "wait" is a bitch of an answer.
In a way, I feel depressed.  Not the usual version of fear and old sad creeping over me.  This one is an honest fear of the future.  I don't recall a time I've ever feared the future.  Feared the present, hated the idea of the future, and ran at all costs to stop an undesirable future, but straight through the gut fear.
I have a lot riding on this test.  I pretty much only get one shot to get it right.  I should do fine with some review, but I fear fucking it up.  I fear losing the chance at an awesome job by not being good enough.  I feel like this is my right path, but I'm not sure of the next right step.  I don't want to fuck this up.  Paralysis by analysis.  At least with the FE, I has seen it recently enough that I felt good about it.  Same goes for the APs and CLEPs.  I haven't touched some of this stuff in over a decade, nearly 15 year.  This test means I need to face my past with biology, that most loathed subject.  It means facing some facts I've held long true about myself and breaking them down.
I need to face that I do well with facts, even rote memorized facts.  I do it well everywhere else.
8th grade biology are the only classes I've failed a marking period for in straight science.  I almost failed that same marking period in history and math (I need to remember what made 8th grade an emotional struggle.)  I failed the basic structures course. Twice.  I despise structures as well.  I hate the things that prove I'm not perfect or that carry reminders of that.
There are memories attached to those early failures.  I would have preferred yelling to the disappointed looks. I would have preferred a beating to the blame and shame I heaped upon myself, far more than m parents gave me.  My parents never saw my college grades.  I never showed them off.  They weren't what I wanted to show them.  Again, I heaped shame upon myself.  I called myself every name in the book. I told myself that I must be stupid for not getting it. I told myself I wasn't worthy of certain things I enjoyed and grounded myself away from them.  You know what the grades were that caused so much havoc?  A 69 and a 68 out of 100.  So fucking close.  I still would have chastised myself for a 70, but nowhere near as badly. That at least was passing.  I shredded my psyche for every C and obliterated myself for a failing grade.  They meant I wasn't perfect, and that couldn't happen.
So I rationalized.  Internalized.  Obviously I wasn't good at biology.  Why wasn't I good at biology?  All the rote memorization without explanation of why things worked the way they did.
A while back, I picked up a genetics text and a biochem text.  I was determined to get to the heart  of why biology worked and fix that preconception by giving myself the whys.  I never got very far. I kept running up against that preconceived "I'm bad at biology" and giving myself excuses not to do it.
So, my next trick is breaking down that wall I created. (Remembering what fucked up my 8th grade year wouldn't be a bad thing either.)

Step 4, Part 3

I've hit that magical level of exhaustion where things click into place because I don't have the energy to overthink them.  Time to exploit that fact.
More inventory:
My red rage scares me.  I don't mean anger or frustration, I mean flat out, berserker RAGE. I don't have it as often as I once did, but it's still far more common than I wish it was. It's always over something I can't control.  It's always well beyond what the situation calls for. And much of the time I either lash out and hurt someone I love, or turn inwards and feed the storm into myself because I don't want to or believe I can't take it out on the offender (see: getting laid off.)  Neither of these is healthy.  I actually got complimented, once, for how professionally I took being removed from a position.  What he didn't know is that I was being very neutral and clipped in my speech so I didn't get arrested for assault, and it was taking every ounce of strength and determination I had.
I guess being able to hide, or at least mask, unwelcome expressions can be a good thing in the working world.  Being labelled sensitive or  explosive can haunt you.  I do need to remember to deal with those emotions, though, and nt keep them sealed off forever.
I'm still not sure how much of my anxiety (GAD) is situation based, past based, and asthma based.  I have a difficult time distinguishing between them, because so often it's one feeding another feeding the other, like an anxiety centipede.  I do know it has a firmer grip on my life than I'd like it to, and that I need to remember my emergency inhaler's existence more often.
I expect chaos.  I may not thrive in it, but I expect it.  When will the other shoe drop?  When will things go to hell, because things always go to hell?  What drama will unfold?  I ask my God to remove me from the hurricane I live in, and in the same breath wonder how I'd survive in calm normalcy.  Even something that should be minimal chaos, like talking to friends, or asking for another project at work, has me making contingency plans along the way for when it will all go to hell.
I make contingency plans.  Hell, some of my contingency plans have contingency plans. I realize that planning ahead and having certain contingency plans aren't necessarily a bad thing, that it's actually quite a good trait, in moderation. I don't do it in moderation.  I have contingency plans for the most inane things, like if I run out of gas on a stretch of road when I have a full tank, or if the dog dies suddenly.  There are times I haven't even realized I had a shit plan until shit happened.  There are other places I need a contingency plan and I refuse to even touch the topic (see: talking to my mother on a bad day and dealing with my middle sister.)
I have a strongly mathematical and scientific, but not necessarily rational mind.  I like to think I consider logic above all else, but my heart tends to rule my head.  These two sides of me seem to be constantly at war.  I get a gut instinct and then try to figure out if it could be rational.
I am frugal and often cheap.  Frugal is not spending more than you need, cheap is buying the same $5 item 20 times when I could have bought it once for $20.  My husband is slowly helping me go frugal as opposed to cheap.  I'd say that's largely due to not having enough money to be frugal when I was a kid; we had to settle for cheap. (Did you know there was knock off ramen?  I didn't know name brand ramen existed until college.)
I am tiny built, and fit into extremely small spaces well.  I learned how as a method to hide from pain.  I still find myself curling into a smaller shape or whatever crevice I can find when I'm in pain or uncomfortable.  It's a defense, but that defense doesn't work against emotional pain.
I can, and do, sacrifice myself for others, far more than I should.  It was an unspoken rule growing up: take care of the small people (those younger, smaller, or more delicate than you) first, be that giving them your dinner, comforting them when you're in your own hell, or protecting them  (Hey, look, a memory.)  I guess it can be a god thing, in moderation, to help those in need, but my needs should (often don't, but should) come first.
Aside from basic survival needs, I put myself last. If you look hungrier than me, I'll even push my hunger aside.  That hurts to admit.  I thought I did a pretty good job taking care of myself, but looking at it, I guess I should probably do more for me.  It's funny.  People tell me to relax, take time for myself, do things I want to do for myself.  I don't know how to do any of that, really.  I know how to do what needs to be done, but when it comes to my wants, those tend to get shoved aside.  The only relaxation I know is a bath with a book and one I hate to admit, even to myself (booze.) As I refuse to become my father, I refuse to comfort myself with alcohol.  I try meditation, and get caught up in trying to be "perfect" in it. I can't thoroughly relax while getting a pedicure because sudden movements tweak me out.  My journals are my outlet, and I tend to censor those, to an extent.
I have dysthymia.  It's a form of depression where my high points of elation don't really reach much higher than your blah days and my dark days are like falling away from the sun with an anchor strapped to your back.  People have actually said "Just TRY to be happy!"  I give them a Wednesday Addams smile and send them on their way. When I eat right, I get a glimpse and a taste of nondysthymic emotions.  They scare me.  To actually be able to be consistently happy feels like euphoria, which scares the hell out of me because it feels like a loss of self control.  I think that's why I self sabotage my efforts to eat right with "treats."  The euphoria of normal happy scares the pants off of me.
I occasionally get the urge to run (I ran so far awayay) like my mother used to do.  I've never acted on them.  I know that my problems can outrun me and will be waiting on me when I get home.  Even if running would help (I don't see how,) I refuse to do it for fear of turning into my mother.  I don't even run to exercise, for fear I might like it and then start running away, like Mom.  (Well, that and the real possibility of a severe asthma attack.)
When I was younger, the only reason I didn't cut was fear of discovery.  I had dreams of carving symbols and words into myself and making them scars.  I'm glad I didn't.
On my worst days, I am suicidal. It's not really something I can ignore.  My mind will see every day objects and views and invent ways I can off myself.  I don't see suicide as an option, but that doesn't stop my imagination from inventing new way to do it.
I need a safe coping mechanism, a candle against the red and the darkness. Biting it down only works for so long before it festers. I don't know of any way to handle negative emotion besides a whirlwind of emotion that dissipates quickly and leaves destruction in it's wake or biting it back until it festers into tears weeks, months, even years after it was created.
I can't name most of my emotions.  I can tell you the Big 3: Sad, Mad, Glad, and Sad and Mad weren't to be shown when I was little.  I can point out some others now (bemusement, bewilderment, confusion, frustration, fury, irritation, euphoria, calm, happy, elated) but the majority of my emotions fall into the lumpy category of Other.
I will push myself to my snapping point, and beyond, to the point where my head is doing nothing but screaming "I want out, I want out, I want out."  Being able to push myself can be good, within reason.

Working the Book, Step 4, Part2

How do I know when I am ready to move on from the first three Steps to my Step Four inventory?
Is this a trick question?  I thought once you had  made the first 3 Steps, and started applying them to your life, you moved on to Step 4.
I guess, in a way, I've been taking a breather between Thee and Four.  Not intentionally, and I've still made some headway on Four, but it hasn't had that sense of urgency that the first 3 did.  I dunno. I still need to do it, but I now have a way to make peace with myself over those flaws and I'm using it as I go.
I really have no answer for this one.  When it feels right? I innately knew when to move on, but being able to vocalize how I came to that conclusion is another animal entirely.  It also seems like a staircase: you're on step 3, and done with what you needed to do there, time to move on and upward.
This answer feels like a cop out.  I would say, well, maybe that means I'm not ready to move on to Step 4, maybe I still have work on Step 3.  Except I am  tackling Step 4 through step 3, if that makes any sense. I'm using the God of my understanding to help me understand, analyze, and forgive those negative things I'm finding in myself.
This still isn't my right answer to this question.  It's a tautological answer.  It's time to move on because it's time to move on.
I would say it's when God gives you the kick in the ass to move on, but, while closer to the answer, that isn't it either.
I think it's when you NEED to move on, not when you think you're  ready, or when you want to, but when there is some desperate internal need to move on.  If that's the case, I'm not sure I'm done with Steps One through Three yet.  I want to move on, but in the same breath, I'm perfectly comfortable just dumping it all over to God and not touching it.  I haven't found that urgency or NEED yet for Step Four.

step Four, Part 2

I've been avoiding Step 4, regardless of how much I say I want it.  I thought the God stuff would be the hard part. To find out that discovering myself is the hard part right now kinda sucks.
Figuring out what's me and what's chameleon or defense is difficult. I guess I need to explore those.
I am a people pleaser. It is difficult for me to express something different from the general consensus or even to lead a group to a common decision. I fear getting it "wrong" or causing problems and disagreements.  I'm too used to trying to keep the peace and keeping things happy, even if it means keeping my needs and wants to myself. I guess that is a defense mechanism that can fall.
I have issues with silence. Silence was not to be trusted, because too often it was a prelude to having to comfort or find Mom or Dad's drunken requests and punishments. Silence was/ is scarier than yelling, because at least yelling let you know what was going on. Silence leads to fear of the unknown and fear of what's possible.
I fear eye contact, for the same reason a dog doesn't like eye contact: it comes across as a display of dominance, and I have trouble with dominance. I had too many displays of aggression and fear causes that came hand in hand with eye contact. Eye contact has been construed as defiance and I've gotten severely punished for "looking at [someone] like that."
I work well with children. I don't know if that is innate or because I had to mother my mother and siblings from not even double digits in age. I have seemingly infinite patience with kids, even when they misbehave or irritate me. I have more patience with kids than adults, mostly because adults should know better, and a kid is still learning.
I truly think all my issues come from two main fears and one secondary fear: fear of retribution, fear of abandonment, and fear of imperfection. If I can face those, the other, negative ones will fall.

As I Lay Dreaming 1

First, a bit of a preface.  There are certain intuitive traits (I hesitate to use the word "psychic," though they could be perceived that way) that run down the female line of my mother's side of the family.  One is the ability to see the present or future in dreams.  I have never had one be literal, but most are so close to literal it's scary.  I do not choose when these occur, nor can I force one to occur. They come to me.
I had such a dream right before I woke up just now.  It wasn't a full nightmare, but I woke up crying in my sleep.  I dreamt my Sponsor had died, and I was going to the funeral.  I could easily point out to you on  map where the funeral service was help, but it wasn't as it is now.  Another church(?) had taken over that spot.  I dreamt they spoke of her childhood, but there was a movie in my head.  I think it mixed up her childhood and her college years, just based on an address that they spoke of.  It showed her wandering about a forest in brown cords, a green shirt, and wild curly hair, clutching 2 action figures and a dinosaur(?)  She sat down to play beside a puddle that, from an overhead view, was easily discernible as a dinosaur footprint.  The voiceover gave what I thought then was an intersection but I now think was a street name of some importance when she was in college, thanks to Google.  It described lots similar to what Google maps shows for those streets.  I dreamt I came out of that reverie and someone that was her, but not her, was sitting beside me.  Whoever it was looked closely at me and said "She spoke often of you, and proudly, like you were another of her kids."  Before I could ask anything, I woke up.
I woke up convinced for a second that she had died, that I'd hafta find another Sponsor.  I know she didn't, but those dreams definitely stick with you for a few days.
I think it also provoked a realization that, while I CAN go it alone, I'd rather someone else with a torch lead the way.  While I'd sorely miss her if she vanished for some reason, I think I could handle finding another Sponsor, as scary and depressing as that sounds.
I think it may also have be a warning, for my own journey. There will be times where she'll only be able to go up to the mouth of the cave, and I'll hafta be the one to spelunk inside.  She might be cheering me on the whole way, and encouraging me, but I'll hafta face some things that go bump in the night on my own.

Working the Book, Step 4, Part 1

What has kept me from working Step Four?
Fear. It has many different shapes and forms, but it is fear.
Fear of the unknown. I'm not sure what seeing it all listed out would do to me.  I may find pieces of myself that I deeply dislike.  I may find pieces in the inventory that I believe are "too good" and subconsciously want to thwart myself, because if I'm "good," people can't pin things on me.  Fear that knowing myself would remove my ability to chameleon change and I'd lose one of my handiest/ easiest/ worst coping mechanisms.  (Intellectually, I know that would not be a bad thing.)
Fear of harming others.  Not myself.  Others.  Fear that knowing myself and starting to act true to myself would hurt those I love and possibly drive them away.  Intellectually, I know that if someone would run away because I started trying to get better, they aren't someone to have.  The part of me that fears being abandoned goes "NOOOOO!!! Get back here, you can't leave me all alone!"  Fear that facing the music might somehow harm my mother and cause her to go into self destruct mode.  As ridiculous as that sounds, I blame/ blamed myself for some of herself destructive behavior.  Fear that my true self is nowhere near as kind/ generous/ helping as this persona I've put on.  While I know it's actually quite the opposite, that once you remove the cynicism, sardonicism, and expectation for things to fail  (hey, those are all related!), my personality will only get better,  there's still that little nagging voice warning me I'll turn into the martyr.
Fear of myself.  I've been this version of me for so long, what if I don't like what I turn into? My brain calls that preposterous, that this change can only be positive and that if I don't like it, I can always change it again.
Fear of doing it imperfectly.  I can't exactly go at this with surgical shears.  I'm kind of ripping and scrabbling and tearing at it, resulting in imperfect edges and bad seams.  While I know humans are flawed creatures at heart, I can't be, I hafta be perfect, right? Wrong. It's like I'm this quilt, with all these rips, tears, bubbling seams and flat out missing pieces.  While I can fix most of this, there will always be missing pieces and sewing errors.  The thing of it is, an imperfect quilt has more personality, hence the love of the crazy quilt and T-shirt quilt.  I'm allowed to be flawed.  I'm allowed to be imperfect.  I'm allowed to be the REAL me, without the layers of airbrushing and learned behavior.
Fear of fucking it up, which I guess goes hand in hand with the fear of doing it imperfectly.
How is Step Four helping me to accept myself?
Interesting word, "Accept."  Part of me wants to rebel and fight back with "whaddaya mean?  I've always accepted myself.  I'm here, aren't I?"  I don't think that "accept" was right, though. That one implies complacency and a certain "well, it's here, might as well do something with it."  I think the correct "Accept" in this context is the acceptance of the path to self love.
It's funny.  All these years, I've thought I had enough self love for 3 people, and enough ego for 4.  Looking back, I realize it was a pretty horrible cover stretched way too thin.  That self love was what I was "supposed to have," so I manufactured a version and dropped it in. It was cobbled together out of the wrong bits and pieces, so it never quite fit, but I'll be damned if I didn't keep trying to do it. It ws kinda like a round peg in a square hole.  It'd fit, with enough force, but it never really worked right.  That ego was a self defense ward.  If I piled it on thick enough, you couldn't see my pain and weakness.
I'm starting to see that the real version of me, the part that's been hiding (or chained up, not sure which) isn't quite so "bad"as I thought she was.  Weak?  It takes strength to show the truth.  Imperfect?  Think of Crazy quilts. Smiles too damn much?  Might be a side effect sign of a happy soul, not a cover against a dark world.
I'm starting to be able to shuck some of the layers of armor in favor of the goodness I've found within myself.
What benefits do I gain by completing a Step Four inventory?
I can find those holes and puckers and bubbling seams and replace them with fresh parts.  Well, not quite  "Fresh."  More like old pieces that fit better.  I can find those parts of me that no longer work and find old pieces of me that work better.  It's all in there.  It's just a matter of cleaning house.

Al- Anon Meeting 2

Today was another Al- Anon meeting, this one a discussion meeting.  This one was especially beneficial, as it tackled the stuff I've been dancing around all week. Not so much "what is God" as "how do you hear God" and "how do you know you're on the right path."
Some of the things said really struck me.  One person's story could've been pulled from my mouth. (Not their exact words:) 'I don't pray. I'll wish you luck, send good vibes, and hope for you.  I guess that's my form of prayer.'  I've gotten better about true prayer.  I still can't do the come to Jeebus,  holy holy stuff.  That always smacked me more as showing off.  I will; however, let loose "God, help!" or "please let them be ok" or "where to from here?"  I just refuse to "Oh, praise Jeebus, holy of holies, hear my loud prayer, Amen." 
Another person mentioned a change in their prayer style, going from "I want, I need, I demand" to "what is Your will?"     I've noticed myself making that transition, from "Fix this," "Do this," "all I need is this" to "help me do Your will," and "what is the right path," and, admittedly "please do this.  I want this so badly.  I realize it may not be right, but please let it be right."
My sponsor's reading had to do with the free will of other people.  Heh.  That's one of my reasons for letting go of my control of the world.
There were people there on their first meeting.  Hearing them, I was struck by how far I'd come (and how much of me I still heard in them.)
My sponsor gave me some kind advice, and heard one of my more recent fears regarding fucking up my potential hypothetical kids.  She introduced an idea that made perfect sense and was a foreign concept at the same time: treat myself to something positive when I handle something difficult in Al Anon or on here.  The idea made sense, but it had just never occurred to me to give myself a treat for good behavior.  I never got rewards for good behavior as a kid, so it never occurred to give them to myself.  Of course, it never processed that I didn't get rewarded as a kid, just not punished, until she mentioned it.  One of those disconnects between my childhood and a normal childhood.  You can't miss what you never had, so they say.

Step 3, Processing

I went to a park earlier, to walk and try to process the "life" part of step 3.  I could handle the turning over my problems, even mostly handle turning over my will.  Turning over all of my life invoked the 3 year old in me: "nuh-uh, that's MINE."
So I walk.  And thought, and (surreptitiously) watched kids play.  I picked up pecans, and passed them from hand to hand.  With each pecan that fell, or that I tossed away, another obstacle fell.  I'd like to say I know what thought process it was that unlocked being able to hand over my life.  I don't remember it.  It happened all of 45 minutes ago, if that, and I don't remember it.  I just know that by the time I only had one pecan left and had made 3 circuits around the park, I had not only figured it out, but done it. I found serenity, even if only temporarily.  The last half circuit was bizarre (I may have been going into a hypoglycemic reaction), but euphoric.  No.  Not euphoric.  Not worrying.  Happy.  Existing without anxiety or worry.
Even hours later, I've maintained that calm happiness and lack of anxiety.  It seems surreal that I can do this, but somehow, I did it and am doing it.  If I think on it too much, the anxiety starts to return, I think because I start trying to yank control back from God by worrying.  So,  I try to find my center whenever I catch myself doing that.
Last question of Step 3 in the workbook:
How did forcing my will on others make the situation worse?
If I was successful in forcing my will, the other person felt displaced, or worse, disrespected.  It hurt friendships and family bonds that were probably already in trouble from previous attempts to force my will.  It also tended to make the other person feel angry and took away their free will.  I may not like the decisions people make, but they should be free to make their own decisions. If they ask, then I can help.  Forcing my will on them just makes tempers shorter, situations more volatile, and things go from bad to worse.
^I think that's the realization I came to as part of my walk this afternoon.  It was a realization in terms of "do unto others as you'd have them do unto you," instead of my more frequent "do unto others lest they do unto you."  You hafta let folks live their lives.  To interfere not only would muck things up worse and possibly ruin a relationship, but you would be trying to remove their free will, which is never cool.

Working the Book, Step 3, Part 6

When have I seen a Higher Power working in the Lives of those around me?
I have seen those around me who should be just as miserable as me, if not more, living happy, grateful lives because of their God.
I have seen pure miracles that science couldn't explain.  My grandmother lived for years after her projected death date when she had cancer, although whether that was from spite, hope, or God, I'll never know.  My middle sister found God (the God I don't care for) in jail, and seemingly can control herself (albeit not well) without meds now. I have seen my mother step back from the brink of the bridge.
I have seen minor miracles that some might call luck or coincidence, that timed suspiciously well with asking for help.
As much as I hate to admit it, the happiest, sanest people I know are the ones most devout in their devotions, be it God, the goodness of man, or love.  They are also the ones that seem '"luckiest."

How do I use Step Three in my daily life?
I have to.  If I don't, I worry at things and work myself into a giant ball of stress.  Each day, each instant of stress, worry, or pain, I have to ask God "take this away.  This is yours."  There are problems where God says "I need to work through you to solve this."  I can live with that, so long as I know I'm not shouldering the burden alone.  There are days where it seems like God doesn't hear me, or won't hear me, where it seems I'll worry myself into a giant ball of stress.  Those are the days where I know there is something inside, compounding what's outside, and that I need to attack what's inside and hand that to God before I can hand him what's outside.  Some days, I need to hand him my whole damn life and say "Help, I can't."  Then he sorts through the madness and gives me back what I can handle.  Some days, I hand him tears.  Some days, I hand him smiles.  Most days, he gets a confused basket of yarn monsters, and I get back a couple balls of yarn to work with.

What have I experienced when I have turned my will and life over to the  care of a Higher Power?
I swear I already answered this...It seems like this question asks the same thing as question 2 in Part 5.  I guess they are different.  One is "will" and "God," the other is "will and life" and "Higher Power."  Still doesn't make sense that they ask it twice.  I guess I'll attack turning over my life in this one.
Turning my life over has been a bitch, but overly simple at the same time.  I think it's been so hard because it seems too easy.  Things can't be easy.  If it's easy, that means I messed up somewhere along the way.  Yet, it is easy, in a way, to go "God, I can't do this, you take it."  It's like the parent I never had, the one that helps me, as opposed to me having to help him.  I think that is part of what makes it so difficult.  I'm not used to having someone in authority say "here, I can help" and mean it.  If I hear that, it's almost always a trick or not meant.  Having some omnipotent being patiently sitting there, waiting to take and help me handle whatever I throw their way is mind boggling.  Throwing bits and pieces has helped and, loathe as I am to admit it, served as a bit of an acid test.  "Can God help me handle this?  Ok, good. Can he help me with this bigger thing? Ok, good."  I keep tossing my life to him and in the same breath saying "Ok, that's enough, give it back."
I recognize what must be love and serenity when I can manage to let him have my life for more than a split second.  I'm slowly getting more of those moments as I can hand more of my life over to God.  I yearn for the day that I can consistently walk in that serenity and love, but even the moment and seconds I'm getting are more than I had.
For someone with major trust issues and that wasn't even sure there was a god as of a month ago, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn good.

Emotions, Part 2

I just went to what was supposed to be an interview with a headhunter at a personnel firm for an engineering job.  They had me fill out the personnel paperwork, which I thought odd, but figured it was SOP.  While she was explaining the paperwork, the woman mistook me for a secretary.  I corrected her and she went on explaining everything.  As I was filling out the paperwork, and was halfway done, the lady came back in and said "Oh, you don't hafta fill that out.  Just come back tomorrow for an interview with your resume."  When I told her that was what I was told today would be, she vanished to talk to somebody and came back and said "just come back tomorrow."
It irritated me that I had wasted the gas to drive to the neighboring town to be told to come back tomorrow.  It angered me that they couldn't keep a schedule that they had set. It frustrated me that I had rearranged my schedule to be told "come back tomorrow."  It made me feel not worth their time and worthless. Instead of calling them on their horseshit (more than I already did), I just said thank you and left.  I'm still fuming.  I know the firm must generally work more with the nonprofessional fields, but you can't treat someone like that and expect them to be happy!  I was treated like drone number 2356896786346756, like I wasn't worth the lint on the bottom of their shoes.  I'm actually kinda angry at myself for keeping my professional cool and just taking it.  I know it's better for my career to do what I did, but I wanted to remind her that I drove 45 fucking minutes for an interview that didn't happen.  It made me feel shame, like it was somehow my fault they couldn't keep a schedule straight.  I felt worthless, like I was someone they couldn't be bothered with.  I felt that enough as a child, I don't need it from someone I just met.  It's really tempting to not go back.  If that's how they treat me now, how will they treat me in the long run?  I know I will go back, though.  I need that potential job.
I hate it when something like that happens.  Especially when I feel trapped into doing what they say, because my options seem limited.  I know I'm not trapped, that I could walk away and not go back tomorrow.  In the same breath, I don't feel I have an option, because this may be one of my few engineering job chances.
Gods, how I wish I hadn't screwed my resume.  I wish people were more understanding.  I wish people were kinder, and there were more smiles and fewer tears.  If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
I also kinda wonder if maybe this is a hint from God.  Maybe one of those "quit trying to work around me and trust" moments.  I also know better  than to count my chickens before they've hatched. I've had promising interviews fail before.  Sorry, God.  I trust you, but I also know you can only help those who help themselves.
Well, God, the ball's in your court now.  I'm done with what happened earlier.  I'll listen for your small voice in me.  I really don't want to go back tomorrow, though.