SABOTAGE

Self-defeating behaviors sometimes need to be pointed out to us.

But we often find ourselves taking actions that we intellectually know are not going to improve our quality of life - for example, reaching for that cigarette twenty minutes after we "quit" for good - procrastinating on preparing the presentation that will precipitate your promotion (hey, pretty good for amount of p's, yeah?) - or instead of driving to the gym, stopping at the mall and spending half of your paycheck on DVDs which you KNOW you will watch late at night while eating out of a huge bowl of heavily-buttered popcorn.

I am finding myself currently in a cycle of  "a persistent pattern of behavior detrimental to the self, including being drawn to problematic situations or relationships and failing to accomplish tasks crucial to life objectives." (see this site)

And so, of course, am drawn to Google for self-diagnosis and free counsel.

I liked some of the suggestions from this site - to help you become aware of self-defeating acts. And in color are my responses:

Physical awareness. Where do you feel the tension? Pinpoint it -- a knot in your stomach... tight shoulders, etc. -- and give the sensation a name. Yeah, my stomach - like I WANT ICE CREAM.

Emotional awareness. Attach an emotion to the physical sensation. Example: "I feel angry... bored... afraid, etc."  Duh... it's called HUNGER and emotionally also wanting COMFORT FOOD.

Impulse awareness. Complete the sentence, "This feeling makes me want to..." Fill in the blank with your immediate emotional reaction. STUFF MY FACE?

Consequence awareness. Answer the question, "If I respond this way, what's likely to happen?" Think through all the possible consequences. Okay, this is where I am supposed to act like an adult and act mature? Yeah, if I eat an entire Ben and Jerry's Double Chocolate Brownie Fudge while watching the Jay Leno show, I will consume an entire's day worth of calories and two week's worth of fat intake in aprx. 14 minutes.

Solution awareness. Complete the sentence, "A better thing to do would be..."  Sure, like at 11:20 p.m. when I am in my pajamas, I have a whole  lot of options such as "go to the gym and work-out" or living three miles from the Mexican border to be able to "walk the dogs for 40 minutes" or "saddle Najale and do ground work with him" - NOT.

Benefit awareness. Finish the sentence, "If I try that strategy, the benefits will be..." List as many as possible.  Sure, I can list benefits - losing weight, discovering my waist again, and being able to leave all the Just-My-Size, Women Within, and Silhouette fat-women-clothing-disguised-as-figure-flattering catalogs aside.

Yeah, forget it - just next time my husband insists on bringing ice cream home, I'm just gonna throw it immediately into the trash.

Hey, now that's not self-defeating.......... is it?

GLASS GLASS GLASS

A couple of minutes ago, my grandson issued the ultimate threat to his dad; "I won't be your friend anymore!" He also warned me one afternoon this week that "I'm going to tell mommy about you!" when I insisted he take care of the toys splayed all over the front room.

It's cute to hear things like this from a six-year old, but it also makes me think of reasons people do suddenly not return your phone calls - shy away from conversations - somehow don't see you when you pass by.

Some are just as juvenile as the ones coming from a six-year old:

1) Politics. The two 'dangerous' areas of discussion seem to be this and religion, but I would happily, cheerful and THANKFULLY talk hours and hours on my spiritual beliefs rather than 30 seconds of "wait a minute, you voted for who?!"

2) Other friends. Somehow being able to hold an adult conversation with someone that they cannot is grounds for immediate dislike. Much like if you play with them, you can't play with me.

3) Personal and private life. There are certain subjects that just don't and probably shouldn't come up normally - which way your toilet paper roll hangs (I used to be completely an 'under' roller, and now I am unashamedly an 'over') - whether you are a Pepsi or a Coke drinker - what type of underwear you may put on in the privacy of your own bedroom.

Unless you and I are going to be sharing a whole lot of TP, it doesn't really matter. If your interest is in adorable fluffy white poodles, and mine is Black Labs, it just ain't a big deal.

And if you drink beer on Sunday, watch "Dueling Grizzlies" and hang out with the county's Lesbian Homeschooling Support Group, I may be tempted to throw a large stone or two in your direction ("But that's just wrong, I can't been see supporting that") - but hopefully stop as soon as I realize all of us live in extremely large glass huts of our own creating.

MY LOVE IS AN ANCHOR

There are some evenings that are just perfect.

A hot day, followed by the rapid cooling of twilight. The sweat's still trickling down you back, but the breeze coming in through the windows suddenly causes chicken skin (that expression is so much better than 'goose bumps') all over your body.

And you're driving, and the local radio station which normally carries music you can just barely tolerate is blasting out the absolute best songs ever.

Songs that you know every single lyric to - songs which have that perfect harmony part (essential to someone like me who can never stay with the melody alone).

Songs from when you were in college - or when you had that incredible job or when you lived in that fabulous place.

Some times they are the ones that make you cry.

The first song you danced to with him.

And sometimes lyrics don't even tug, they simply wrench your heart.

Do these lyrics mean anything to any of you? Because these were the ones I was hearing:

It's kind of a special feeling
When you're out on the sea alone
Staring at the full moon, like a lover


So I'm sailing for tomorrow, my dreams are a dyin'.
And my love is an anchor tied to you
Tied with a silver chain.
I have my ship and all her flags are a flyin'
She is all that I have left
And music is her name.


He runs, wishing he could fly
Only to trip at the sound of good-bye
Wordlessly watching
He waits by the window
And wonders
At the empty place inside
Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams
He worries
Did he hear a good-bye?
Or even hello?


You need to find a brand new start
But you're almost afraid to be true to yourself
Oh, but it's all right
Once you get past the pain


I've come far
From the life I've strayed in
I've got scars
From those dives I've played in
Now I'm home
And I'm weary in my bones
Every dreary one night stand



Someday your child may cry
And if you sing this lullaby
Then in your heart
There will always be a part of me

There's just an empty space
And you coming back to me
Is against all the odds
And that's what I got to take


Get up in the morning, look in the mirror
A moment there's a toothbrush hanging in the stand
My face ain't looking any younger




Oh.


And you need to be eating an ice cream, especially one that is rapidly melting, during all this.

Trust me on this last one.

STEREOTYPICAL

Last night I was (SURPRISE!) in the drive-thru line at Dairy Queen because I was feeling..
1) unappreciated,
2) sorry for myself, and
3) angry at my spouse.

Solution? ICE CREAM!

I was second-in-line, right behind a Big Wheels For Adults Super Jacked-Up-So-High-You-Can-Drive-Another-Car-Under It Big Truck.

Now, I must share something extremely personal.

I am a compulsive rear-view voyeur. When stopped at a light or in line, I casually watch the people behind me.

And much more often than I should, when I am driving at down the highway at 65 mph.

It began as a good driving technique - my dad taught me that being aware of who was behind me was as important as knowing what was in front of you -- and since he went 65 years accident-free...

Then it became just fun to watch what people are doing behind you.

To a SICK fixation to observe those who have no idea that they are being scrutinized by me.

I know, I know; someone, please tell me there is a twelve-step program out there for this, and send me the website address.

Anyway, yesterday behind me was (okay, I am being brutally honest here) was a white dude, wife-beater shirt, military crew-cut but a little bit too much weight to be active-duty... in a not-as-manly as the truck in front of me, but real close.

He and his wife were doing that irritating (and not just to rear-view watchers such as myself, but each and every one of s who has ever worked a drive-up window) drive up to the menu, stop, then stare straight ahead and not even GLANCE at the menu until the speaker squawks with "Whaddayawant?!"

And THEN, and only then, begin to look over the menu for four minutes before even beginning to come to a decision.

Come on, people, this is DAIRY QUEEN - it's ice cream or nothing - don't you know what you CAME here for ALREADY?!

So I am mentally beginning to catalog all the grating failings of this dude - unappetizing physical appearance, blank stare, obviously over active
testosterone glands judging by the amount of underarm hair in plain view....

HOLD ON JUST A MINUTE. The only real thing wrong with this guy is that I am in a bad mood. I am being critical and judgemental and MEAN.

And also a total hypocrite, since I am always furious when people are judging ME by my external (and obviously far from perfect) appearance.

So I stopped myself, and began listing the possible positive characteristics that this guy very well could have:

- He obviously loved his wife/girlfriend/significant other sitting next to him; he was getting her ice cream (always a smart move for any type of guy - if doubt, don't get her roses, get her ice cream)

- He was probably a great dad, and coached his son's Little League team, taught his daughter's karate class, and knitted gun cosies like Emerson Cod for his associated weapons.

- He possibly was dealing with the slowing down of construction, and was working a second job as a .... a wife-beater?

Okay, well, give me some credit, at least I tried.

UNIVERSAL BAD KARMA

I don't believe in astrology. I don't believe in phases of the moon and positions of the stars to influence our behavior. And I only rarely will pause when a black cat crosses my path, or I have to walk under a ladder, or I step on a sidewalk crack.

But I swear that there are universal 'bad' days.

(Well, not actually universal, because life forms in the Alpha Centuri quadrant may be experiencing an excellent day, but the word 'planetary' just doesn't look the same)

These are the days when everyone seems to be in a rush - angry about some inner demon - grumpy - can offer only extremely forced smiles. Drivers won't yield, horns are blown, rude hand gestures are exchanged.

So the bad moods compound; you're madder because the traffic was horrible, so you are less patient waiting at the pharmacy, and then when that *@^$%!( cuts in front of you at McDonald's.... it becomes contagious.

My morning was actually going great; I was home ALONE (I just love solitude), getting a lot of things done (to include finding out how incredible Pandora radio is, surfing the Internet and scratching my horse's belly - important stuff like that), and just enjoying the day.

My middle child had talked me into picking her up after work (2 p.m.) and treating her to a late lunch, so I drove into town and actually got there on time (not a normal thing for me), and I parked to wait for her.

Sitting with the windows of my truck down, enjoying a brisk breeze, just waiting all mellow (great old Elton John song for you true fans out there)....

First hint of how the day was being carved out was by a couple of cars fighting over an empty parking spot right in front of my parking spot.

Although, as always, there were a horde of opening spots just a short walk away, this empty spot suddenly was the most important thing in the world for both of these drivers. Blood would be shed - honor was at risk - we will DIE for this parking spot.

Right in the middle of watching this face-off (of which the smaller red car won, to my personal satisfaction), my daughter called, more than slightly hysterical - she was having to WORK THREE MORE HOURS. So instead of a three hour shift, she was

working six. Which she would begin after a break - and a meal.

Yeah, tough.

Okay...

So I went over to the pharmacy to pick up some scripts for my husband and one for me, to be certain that this trip was not a complete waste.

Hmm... a line of people waiting, including one handicapped cart stopping all possible traffic passing by... overworked pharmacists... we can't find your prescription... oh, we do have your prescription but the insurance line is blocked and we can't get approval for it... can you come back in an hour?

Sure, sure, I can go shop. I can waste time very easily... when there is a Target, Staples and WalMart (last choice) within walking distance. Even if I don't have any extra money, I am an expert at window-shopping (boy, what an old expression - who shows things in windows anymore? Really - when was the last time you actually looked in a window to see a display?)

And is it just my imagination, or do there seems to be a large percentage of crying children - fussy babies - irritated checkers - people rushing?

I go back to the pharmacy - whoops, now, where did the three scripts disappear... AGAIN. I took pity on the young tech and said, don't worry, I'll ask my husband to pick them up after work.

I do my standard when-I-go-into-town-I-get-a-Dairy-Queen-medium-vanilla-ice-cream-cone. It's such a regular thing that, I swear, they see my truck pulling up to the window and they have my cone ready for me.

Look in the dictionary under the word "predictable" - there is a photo of me.

But, hey, guess what - there is a line. With cars containing people who are not happy with their order - who want more napkins - who spill their drinks...

The negative emotions were spreading out in waves; like the dipped chocolate shell which immediately hardens and begins to slip off the ice cream onto either onto your hand or just touching every piece of cloth in the vehicle.

Driving home, middle child calls AGAIN - now in tears while being apologetic about previous behavior. I am trying to talk calmly, rationally... while trying to eat an ice cream cone, hold a cell phone, and drive a stick shift.

Final straw of the day - husband gets home after going through similar interaction at pharmacy, but has reacted more violently... hit some things, kicked some other things, and almost physically hurt someone. Did recognize it, asked for shrink appointment, and additional sleep meds.

Can we get a rubber room for everyone in the world, please, especially for me?

CREEPY THINGS IN THE DARK

Power outages can be the standard where I live in southern Arizona, and now seem to have followed me to Oahu.

At home, we are attached quite literally to any electrical power by a single strand of wire. High atop old utility poles by the highway which, unfortunately, have been blown, shot and knocked down - and then off the highway the wires are buried inside cheap plastic tubing that leaks. The telephone routinely goes out whenever it rains (which, for better or worse, does not happen often). Our water comes from a well with an electrical pump - so no electricity, no water.

Our wiring has persisted through eight years of gnawing by local residents. Now, this nibbling is done not by ungainly & ugly city rodents - but bright-eyed little field mice (vegans) who move inside only during the cold months to share hot chocolate, watch "Law & Order" marathons and help me with Sudoku puzzles. They have a completely legal agreement with the cat - he can pretend to scare them, and the mice won't openly flaunt their complete power over him.

But it does mean we only have one working telephone line, and lights that flicker even when the utility company has everything in the field working.

I don't mind power outages at home, even when "The Office" is on. It forces me to read by candlelight (which sounds oh so romantic, but is pretty tough on 50+ year-old eyes), walk outside by the moon and starlight, and (most often) going to bed incredibly early.

It is a wonderful excuse to be late for anything ("my alarm didn't go off!"), to add dash of the apprehensive disaster mode ("but all our power is off!") and the best reason possible to go ahead and eat all the ice cream in the freezer ("otherwise it's just gonna melt!").

But here in Hawaii it comes with at a bigger price - not just lights and phones, but sacrifices that must be made BY THE TOURISTS. Honolulu exists solely because of the military and the visitors to the islands - and if they can't count on artificial climate control, frozen foods straight from the mainland then made into colorful local dishes, ice to cool their drinks and cold air pouring of into their hotel rooms... well, who would come then?

Turns out during the last island-wide power failure in December, President-elect Obama and family were here on the island. Talk about bad publicity - can you imagine if the Secret Service didn't have enough Duracell batteries - did their little ear-wigs work - back-up generators for Air Force One?

I also discovered that both of my grandkids have MAJOR problems with the dark. I knew each one had a night light, but figure that was mainly for mommy's convenience when she comes in to check on them at night. Not so! Apparently creepy monsters and huge hairy bugs just wait for the dark so they can jump out and do their damage.

Wanna bet this coming week we'll have another power outage when it's just grandma and the kids?

So - I'll stock up on the ice cream this week!