I hate politics. Ask anyone I know and they will tell you I hate politics. The bad news is that I work in politics. Worse news is that I thrive on politics. Do you see my problem? I have read the line between love and hate is a thin one and I think I zig zag across it daily. Who is running for what, who is not running, who says they are running but really will not, who will be president and what does that do to the state offices..... the questions are endless and exhausting and at the end of the day absolutely useless to me in my everyday life. I should get out but have no idea what else to do. I am open for suggestions. I have dreams of starting my own business, publishing my book, establishing a brand (I already have websites purchased) the kicker is that I need to make money and I have no clue how to do that.
I am reading articles, websites and blogs about recognizing my value, putting a price on my talents, creating my own destiny and liberating myself from politics. There are some great resources out there, for example: http://dailyworth.com/ but here I am still sitting on Square1. My husband says it takes money to make money so what I apparently need is a sugar daddy or the desire to rid myself of my earthly belongings and see them all on EBay I just do not see either of them happening.
Crap, I have to go, a legislative office is on hold for me......
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
My Sobering Experience
My friend earned his one year sobriety chip last night. He asked me to attend his AA meeting and I agreed to go. I did not know what to wear or what kind of people I would encounter. I was feeling a little nervous, a little scared and secretly little superior to those I was sure would show up. The meeting was held on a university campus but close to downtown so I was sure there would be a mix of students and professionals. All of them would be addicts. I was sure I would not fit in with them.
The meeting promptly started and there I sat overdressed, arms crossed with open ears and an open heart. These people deserved my respect for what they have overcome and my pity for where they have been in their journeys to sobriety; didn’t they? I looked around and surmised the average age of the crowded room was 22. I was not just overdressed but now I felt old. The fresh, innocent faces showed few, if any signs, of their addictions. One by one, they put a voice to their struggles and it became clear that although I was older than most of them had lived enough for four lifetimes. The journeys and Hell they have seen and lived also made them wiser than I expected. It was a sobering thought when I realized I could learn a lot from an addict.
The meeting took place in a basement but the atmosphere loosely resembled a church. Actually, it resembled what a church should be. The honesty in the room was disarming. “Hi. I am John and I am an addict/alcoholic” I smirked when I first heard it because it really was just like in the movies. After hearing one testimony after another, the purity of their words and the strength of their faith was overwhelming. This was a room full of addicts and alcoholics; this was also a room full of Christians. My presence in a church should be viewed as a declaration that I am weak. I should stand and say, “Hi. My name is Wendy and I am a sinner,” but I don’t. I go to church once a week for an hour a week and I question why I feel lost at times. These people live church every minute everyday as a way to stay clean but more importantly alive.
A familiar theme in last night’s meeting was living not in the past or future but the present; this very moment. When you live in the moment you are fully present and can correct or address actions that cause you anxiety. When you live in the moment you do not regret a moment that you lived today next week. Then it hit me; I am not an addict or alcoholic but I am “one of them” only I strive to reach the level of faith that many of them live every day. We should all be so lucky to live with that kind of faith. I hate to think I would need an addiction to get me there.
To be blunt, I am inspired. There were no saints in that room last night. We were all sinners just trying to find our way.
The meeting promptly started and there I sat overdressed, arms crossed with open ears and an open heart. These people deserved my respect for what they have overcome and my pity for where they have been in their journeys to sobriety; didn’t they? I looked around and surmised the average age of the crowded room was 22. I was not just overdressed but now I felt old. The fresh, innocent faces showed few, if any signs, of their addictions. One by one, they put a voice to their struggles and it became clear that although I was older than most of them had lived enough for four lifetimes. The journeys and Hell they have seen and lived also made them wiser than I expected. It was a sobering thought when I realized I could learn a lot from an addict.
The meeting took place in a basement but the atmosphere loosely resembled a church. Actually, it resembled what a church should be. The honesty in the room was disarming. “Hi. I am John and I am an addict/alcoholic” I smirked when I first heard it because it really was just like in the movies. After hearing one testimony after another, the purity of their words and the strength of their faith was overwhelming. This was a room full of addicts and alcoholics; this was also a room full of Christians. My presence in a church should be viewed as a declaration that I am weak. I should stand and say, “Hi. My name is Wendy and I am a sinner,” but I don’t. I go to church once a week for an hour a week and I question why I feel lost at times. These people live church every minute everyday as a way to stay clean but more importantly alive.
A familiar theme in last night’s meeting was living not in the past or future but the present; this very moment. When you live in the moment you are fully present and can correct or address actions that cause you anxiety. When you live in the moment you do not regret a moment that you lived today next week. Then it hit me; I am not an addict or alcoholic but I am “one of them” only I strive to reach the level of faith that many of them live every day. We should all be so lucky to live with that kind of faith. I hate to think I would need an addiction to get me there.
To be blunt, I am inspired. There were no saints in that room last night. We were all sinners just trying to find our way.
Friday, September 2, 2011
You Can't Teach Boy
My baby boy, Boone, is 18 months old. He is expressive, strong willed and obsessed with balls of all types and size: footballs, basketballs, soccer balls, tennis balls. His fascination has become borderline obsessive. Given my athletic tendencies (I was a great high school athlete..) I have hoped that my son would be athletic. There is nothing wrong with a brainiac kid or a kid who would rather play the tuba than kick a ball but I have maintained the dream that my kid would be able to be/do those things and be highly coordinated with a competitive strike that would enhance his field performance. Just saying. And to take it a bit further, I have hoped he will be inclined to play baseball, golf, track, basketball, soccer- anything but football. I do not want my baby at the bottom of some pile of big ol’ boys or have his helmet crash into an over-amped wanna be hero. It is a wonder I can even sleep at night worrying about such things.
Anyway, back to balls; the college football season has begun. My husband’s mood has lifted considerably and despite the 100 degree temperatures you know Fall is just around the corner. (insert prayers here that Fall will bring 80 degree temperatures and a little rain) Last night Wisconsin played UNLV. The game was on in the living room and I walked in to find both the males in my family enjoying the game. Each time the ball was run baby boy would yell and clap and carry on. Hunt turned the channel and Boone cried. The moment I learned that you can’t teach “boy” was when I had to turn the TV in the kitchen from the Wonder Pets to the football game to get him to sit down and eat. He is 18months old! You cannot teach “boy” to an 18 month year old, they have it or they don’t. It looks like I got my wish and it is going to be a long college football season.
Anyway, back to balls; the college football season has begun. My husband’s mood has lifted considerably and despite the 100 degree temperatures you know Fall is just around the corner. (insert prayers here that Fall will bring 80 degree temperatures and a little rain) Last night Wisconsin played UNLV. The game was on in the living room and I walked in to find both the males in my family enjoying the game. Each time the ball was run baby boy would yell and clap and carry on. Hunt turned the channel and Boone cried. The moment I learned that you can’t teach “boy” was when I had to turn the TV in the kitchen from the Wonder Pets to the football game to get him to sit down and eat. He is 18months old! You cannot teach “boy” to an 18 month year old, they have it or they don’t. It looks like I got my wish and it is going to be a long college football season.
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