do you know what an ACoA is?

You work with them. You go to school with them. You are friends with them. You ride the train with them. They are the Adult Children of Alcoholics.

Adult Children of Alcoholics is a book by Janet Geringer Woititz, Ed.D. It was a New York Times bestseller...in the 1980s. It is a book I was a little reluctant to read until about 3 weeks ago during my last days of residing at home with my mom. I say 'residing' because I was hardly living. All the bad things in the world only happen to my mom. I know that this is hardly the truth and I must remind her of how fortunate she is because I am her parent. I have never been a child and needless to say the role I took on in my family at 5 years old is the same role I will be viewed to have at 55 years old, barring any major changes in my parents habits.

There are 13 distinctive characteristics of an ACoA (and some of these are not limited to ACoAs and an ACoA may not show signs of all of these characteristics):

-ACoAs guess at what normal behavior is.

-ACoAs have difficulty following a project thru to its completion.

-ACoAs lie when it would be just as easy to tell the truth.

-ACoAs judge themselves without mercy.

-ACoAs have difficulty having fun.

-ACoAs take themselves very seriously.

-ACoAs have difficult with intimate relationships.

-ACoAs overreact to changes over which they have no control.

-ACoAs constantly seek approval or affirmation.

-ACoAs usually feel that they are different from other people.

-ACoAs are either super responsible or super irresponsible.

-ACoAs are extremely loyal, even in the face of evidence that their loyalty is undeserved.

-ACoAs are impulsive.

Although I am not finished with the book, reading it has shined a light on a very basic fact of our world today; the true effect that alcoholism has on families and children has still not been fully acknowledged, recognized, or researched. Growing up I spent an exorbitant amount of time trying to be opposite of the people who brought me into this world. I always remembered people that would say they grew up to be just like their mother or father without fail. Despite all of the time spent trying to change something that had not fully shaped yet, during my most crucial developmental years...I am finding that not all that much changed. I wake up and see my mother's face in the mirror almost everyday. I find myself resentful that I see normalcy around me and I can't attain it, grasp it, or become it. This book has opened my eyes a bit to my own issues and to the fact that the language of suffering is universal.

I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who has ever had an alcoholic friend or family member...especially those who have come into contact with an ACoA. It has helped thousands understand the thinking that comes with this kind of traumatic upbringing, an upbringing that doesn't get the national attention it warrants.

2009, I bid you good riddance...

"There's nothing like the brilliance of me loving me." -- A. Lopez

I've washed my hands of 2009. What a horrible, complicated, and utterly annoying year with all of its lessons and booby traps. There are only 2 good things about this year in my book: I rang it in with one of my favorite people in life and I graduated from college.

Since I've last blogged I've been swimming in growing pains and change. I've had mixed feelings about my writing and what it does for me...healthy and unhealthy. There is nothing like my appreciation for the spoken word but sometimes I write passionately and hate what results, a blinding and catastrophic swirl of words that probably don't mean anything to my readers...or anyone else in the world for that matter. I am often blinded my own circumstances, my past traumas, and current struggles...I often forget to make sense. I feel like one in a room full of many "opposites" and "differents"...like there can be no one who understands my views because ultimately there's no one else in the world like me, yes? I knew I should have been made an action figure by now.

As entirely self-centered as I may seem, lately life has been similar to walking on a tripwire suspended in mid-air above the city of my dreams that is wholly unattainable unless I am to allow myself to fall. As an act of self-defense I've spent a lot of time engulfed in my own issues, a place that is not happy 63% of the time. I desperately want self-betterment and excellence, confidence and clarity, joy and calm, intuition and sanity. Recently, I have tried my hand at minor internalization, a way of dealing with personal things way more personally...sort of like me having a conversation with who I see in the mirror as opposed to chatting with my boyfriend who would probably like to be in a coma while I talk, or maybe just shoot me. I answer my own questions, play my own games, and find my own ways to see the light in life. So far it's been...different. I write only a little now and of course, I get trapped in my own mind at times but overall I hope to achieve balance.

As a little girl I used to pick themes for each new year, as in goals to concentrate on...and for 2010 I will be resurrecting my old habit. 2010 is the year for my...[wait for it]...Positivity Makeover. I may not be writing as often but I'll still be around. As trite as the phrase "trimming the fat" is, the elimination of negativity in all regards is in full effect. I don't have to be self-centered but if things I can eliminate are not in line with where I'm trying to go or what I'm trying to do I won't hesitate to let go. I never let go and I never get over anything but this will have to change.

I'm so used to chaos that negativity feels like a normal part of the cosmos but as I've taken years to find out, it doesn't have to be. My makeover has already been graced by Glee ringtones, saved money, and frequent usage of exclamation points in texts or emails. Anything that makes me smile is not out of the question.

I made a list of 4 people that I absolutely need to lose contact with or forget about because at the end of the day all they do is make me feel like shit or act as an accomplice to such. The people on this list are all ex-boyfriends (except for one) and my complications with them have stemmed from trying to carry on post-relationship friendships. They all know that I'm conscientious and they all take advantage of it. Being nice is so overrated. Per my exit from an extremely shaky time...I am very optimistic about what is to come. Farewell '09, we'll see how this goes.

Cheers two-thousand-TEN.

the perks of being a wallflower

"so, this is my life. and I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."

-- the perks of being a wallflower

Yes, I am still alive. I haven't written in a while. OK, I'll write something that isn't more obvious...

I started my new job...my new government job...the job that is going to take me higher than...yea whatever. It's been good so far and I haven't wanted to judge it too quickly. A sister of mine told me recently that "people hate change, they are programmed to regard it as dangerous." The job does not suck but the change does. I miss my VA peeps and I actually felt more at home being an intern, as odd as that may sound. There is a serious gap in cohorts at my new and current office. I'd have to walk around for a long time in order to find someone my age. Everyone here is a "veteran fed"...they have been here, or in government...forever.

Last week, I had the day off for Veterans' Day and I went home. Upon returning to work the following day, when I walked into my office it felt normal for the first time. I would be lying if I explained it only by saying that "it felt normal". It actually just felt like acceptance. I didn't feel so foreign to my space when I came in. My challenging morning drag transformed from just that into an actual routine where familiarity is actually my new partner in crime. I am now searching for apartments because despite my deepest wishes, I have been considering moving back home to save money. Metaphorically speaking, I can go home and live right at the eye of a hurricane or I can stick it out in DC and eat beans out of can on occasion.

I think everyday of how much my life has changed in just 6 months. I am reminded of the Good Ol' Song and the walks to class I deemed ordinary and meaningless, everyday when I yawn because I am so tired...and I did not have the option to just skip work like I would have skipped class.

I am happy to be on my own and excited to see my life unfold but something is missing. I am sad that my life from 6 months is gone forever and it's something I don't really understand right now. I am going to take it one step at a time and all I want is for it to make sense one day and feel normal the next.

PSA: i am rebelling...against myself

I have been wearing hearing aids since I was 4 years old. The pair I have currently is going on 8 years old and a new pair, without a bunch of bells and whistles, but including bluetooth and MP3 capabilities, would run me about $5,000-$6,000.

Now I know hearing aids haven't existed forever but seriously...it's 2009. A smart person from an insurance company should have spearheaded accommodations and coverage for people who have no choice but to spend outrageous amounts of money on things that literally weigh as much as a quarter a long time ago! Thus begins my quest to find a smart and accommodating insurance company...and so far apparently there is only one. However, they only cover up to $1,000 per ear. This is wonderful but still I can NOT finance $3,000 on my own. To avoid being deemed incredibly spoiled here, I'll add that this is definitely better than nothing.

Instead of working my neighborhood corner to supplement the income of my fabulous government job, I've decided now that since I am on my own, it is cheaper and far more socially amusing to resort to asking "What?" more often. This of course sabotages any life mission I'd ever have to obtain normalcy. O bother.

"please watch out for her"

Hearing impaired heir to the free (and real) world as I am, I share a particularly interesting and cosmic connection with others who lack this sense. While waiting to get on the bus to New York this evening, Boopiece was asked by a woman escorting a deaf and mute young woman if he could, "Please watch out for her." When I caught the eyes of this young woman, she smiled openly and brightly. Yes, there is still trust in this world if this woman felt she could ask Boopiece to watch out for this girl. And yes, smiles still weigh heavily on communicating even the simplest of messages.

Her smile communicated a special openness to me as though she were saying, "Hi, I trust you." I could not imagine being deaf and mute in NYC of all places. At least now we know, Boopiece does not outwardly appear to be a rapist or anything of that nature. Cheers!

this type of [@#&!] totally infuriates me!!

Dear France,

Seriously, since when is it OK to drug and rape a 13-year old girl?

Sincerely,

You Suck

femme fatales and the real world

Part I

I spent an awesome past weekend in the Empire State with my boopiece, a few of my sisters, and some friends. I had a wonderful time being out and about. Some conversation tidbits made me realize that I'm in such a good place in my life currently. I am fortunate enough to be lame.

I spoke with several people about the supposed phenomenon that occurs sometime during a young person's transition from college to what I reluctantly call 'the real world'. I very spitefully accept that my cohort seems to feel that somehow people who are 0-22 years old are not real people. This phenomenon can be described as the transition from 'cool' to 'lame' or 'whack'. In my own personal experience, it's not that I won't go out and party but I have lost the interest. I'd rather spend my weekend traveling somewhere, seeing new movies, sleeping, trying news foods, etc.

By no means has alcohol lost its sloppy appeal but other things are just more appealing now and I mean now in a sense that the present is more valuable because I have less present to myself. While in college, the entire present was mine and for what I decided. Now I have to make a living...or I will die. Coming into work or attempting to do so hungover or otherwise disheveled from the activities of the night before not only brings me closer to dying but it also just isn't fun. It was fine to drink forever one night and evade class the following day in order to get well and still graduate...but I can't evade work and still get paid. I actually have to perform to get what I want AND need. How ridiculous is it that that's the bottom line?

Perhaps, it's just a couple thing. I have evidence for this. Most of my current post-grad friends who are single are very much bound but only to themselves and their own social wishes. Some drink like fishes still and others just spend hours reading or working out. Their habits have not changed much because they are not accommodating the interest of a lover and the ensuing circle of friends that comes with a lover. Unless someone is in an abusive relationship, I am not insinuating that having a lover is binding. However, with (healthy) couples there seems to be a place where both people have encased a space of mutuality so that things can be done together and enjoyed together. This is also the space where, the real world aside, both people are entirely free to be themselves. People change us; we are not the same with every friend, acquaintance, or lover. Is it because I am in a relationship that my college and single ways of behaving have become completely obsolete? Perhaps because I am 100% happy with my boyfriend I don't feel the need to waste away in obliteration every night. I repeat, I am not against dranking.

If it's not a couple thing or a single thing to party or not party, wouldn't it be too judgmental to say it's a matter of maturity level? How can I hate on someone for doing what they wanna do? And since when is it a crime to party when you are mature? A sister of mine has suggested that we don't party as often because we are secure. There's no need to market ourselves in the artificial microcosm that is the club or the bar.

My relationship aside, I have generally lost interest in the party scene and the sheer inconvenience of it. For this I am lame. For growing up I am whack...but I can honestly say that I am happy. I am exploring, paving roads, and tearing down old structures. While I am sure I'd enjoy going back a few years to my more careless times to recreate ruckus...I realized this past weekend that I can still have that.

Part II

Having decent friends is part of this whole real world debacle. There are no friendships like the ones in college because its becoming harder to facilitate relationships and meet people...because the streets are no longer lined with people that are all my age and bearing the same weights. Now, I butt heads with any and everyone and they all boast different burdens and brains.

As a female there's nothing of the same value as connecting with other sterling women. When I reunited with some of the greatest females I've ever met this weekend, I felt overjoyed. I was able to be myself around them and we have history; familiarity can be a beautiful thing. Having decent female friends has always been a struggle for me. This weekend I really felt I was around good people and I had a good time. It was good on so many levels. Of course I had a good time with my boopiece as always but I had a good time just letting loose and being entirely feminine and crazy. I took too many pictures, drank too much, my dress too short, my heels too high.

On Sunday, I met up with another friend in a more academic environment at the Met. Minus craziness, I was able to be girlesque with her...complain about working too hard, walking too much, and boys being too stupid.

I'd love it if these women lived within 10 minutes of me, we'd be so ride or die. They are hours away but even from afar, I love them. I love who they are and who they make me. The real world is not that bad after all.

the rare intern

[recall: August Disability Hiring Fair]

The 'superhero' line I used at the hiring fair exactly one month ago must have worked. The more I think about the job opportunity I was recently offered...my point of success must have occurred at the moment I used that line upon being put on the spot of all spots by the man I then presumed to be jerk, the same man...that is now going to be my boss. My only feeling about him now is confusion because he doesn't laugh when I say something funny. He must be weird because I am funny. I know I'm funny.

It had to be that line...I was competing with applicants who had their Masters. I know that weird kid that proceeded to stare me down had a Masters degree but not only was he weird, he wasn't me...he wasn't rare. I was recently put in charge of the newsletter at my current job/internship and I am actually glad that upon editing my article another co-worker proceeded to delete everything of value including the part where I laid out the specifics of my first experience with the man that is now going to be my boss. Whew...that would have caused problems.

My current supervisor is wonderful although she is a practicing office sideho...God Bless her heart. Because of her I have had the opportunity to handle things in my office that no other intern before me has. Because of her I was granted an internship extension to end in the middle of December whereas originally my last day would have been tomorrow . And now I can say despite the global state of affairs, in just 9 weeks and within 5 months of graduating, I have obtained permanent employment. I should be proud because as my co-worker David said, "It's rare for an intern to find placement so quickly". Right...who would have thought that I, out of approximately 1,400 other applicants, would be the success story?

I would have more readily accepted a position in my current office, I am nervous about leaving. I am excited too. My new job seems great and pays well but it's change. I have taken a risk and beggars can't be choosers, especially in this economy blah blah blah.

My new job will require me to commute to Southeast DC each day instead of beautiful Northwest...across from my lover, Barack Obama. Having eaten lunch in NW every day for the past few months, I got comfortable with the area and it's overflow of decent, above average restaurants...what if my new job isn't near good food? I need good food. What if I don't have a nice office/cube? What if they don't pay for my transit? What if I don't get 2 computers? What if my hours suck? What if I only have a 30 minute lunch break and I can't take an hour? What if no one likes me? OMG, what if gchat is blocked?!

Even as an intern I have received royal treatment from the federal government over the course of my fledgling career. I am spoiled and I don't want to go to another agency, in SE, across the river from Anacostia, that may not be so great. I don't want to but I will because beggars can't be choosers. I don't want to because it may be the best decision I've ever made and I won't know it isn't...until I start working there.

Wish me luck. Woo hoo.

fathers be good to your daughters...

I didn't ask for money. I didn't bring money up at all. He handed me a wad of cash, put his hazard lights on, and wanted to take a picture of us on his blackberry...and then he put a big wet one on my cheek. So weird. After driving away, he left me a voicemail at work telling me that he was grateful for my spending time with him.

Forgiveness sort of sucks and its one of those things that lies outside of the proverbial gray area when you least expect it to. It's inside one day and out the other. It makes you feel better one day and it makes you feel like shit the next.

My father is probably the last person I'd think to contact for a lunch date but my brain didn't seem to think so when I sent him a short email invitation to have lunch with me last week. He accepted and my father and I haven't bonded in nearly 10 years. He doesn't listen well, he doesn't show respect, and he rarely reaches out to me...oh and by the way, he is also a psychopath, really.

Lunch was enjoyable and I tried my hardest to curb any stirring discomfort. There came a lot of times when he would say something like, "I am not a bad person, but.." and I'd think, "Oh, but you are." There were a lot of times when I could see the good in him flicker for a split second across his face in an ephemeral expression. It is difficult to find the good in a person you know (medically) can't empathize with others while also knowing that that lack of humanity is the very reason you nearly hate them.

I try to convince myself that despite my father's past(?) penchant for putting me down, he is actually proud of me. He has to be...for all I've done. Somewhere inside underneath all that ugly insanity sometimes he thinks, "Wow."

I'm impressed by my ability to put his craziness aside time and time again. Some days I feel OK with letting him in and spending time with him. Some days the thought of him would never materialize. Sometimes it takes a huge effort to put aside your past but other times all it takes is sending a one line email.

'when keeping it real goes wrong'

I graduated from high school and I must have missed the memo that said it was a crime to talk about people. If it is indeed a crime, I'd like to sue about half of my senior class for upwards of $2 million...yea, that should do it.

If you are a(n) [insert word here], why shouldn't someone be able to write about it? It's really not as bad as hearing people spin off about you. And, if you have enough money to live safely in a country where free speech, press, & expression are prohibited...yea, you know where I am going with that. I have no problem encouraging people who hate this country to move.

First, that's what you get for being a celebrity. Second, that's what you get for living here, aka the United States of Hornblowers.