Category Archives: Personal Growth

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“Underwear in my backpocket, sure sign of the morning after”

I had one of my worst days yesterday. Found out I didn’t get a job I have been dreaming about since May. Two close friends of mine got the job over me, which is a whole new kind of confusing: feeling of disappointment for me but happiness for them mixed with trying to read this manual on how to cut someone’s brake lines. Talk about confusing. No matter how hard you try to prepare yourself you can never really know how it’s going to hit you until it happens. Kris and Shoshana, remember our Superpower discussion? One of my superpowers was getting every job I ever interviewed for. A much more useful super power than my text messaging and typing power. Alas, the glorious reign has ended.

On a more humorous note, since I looked and felt like crap all day yesterday I decided to dress up today so I can try that whole “Look good on the outside and maybe it will help me feel good on the inside” dealio. I may have made that up, but I have a sneaking suspicion my mom whispered it into my crib at night. Needless to say, I looked good today and felt much better. I forgot my blue shirt which immediately makes people think you are dressed up, but I also had a skirt on and ass-kickin’ boots, as well as a little mascara (gasp!). Many a compliment was given to me throughout the day and my spirits were lifting. I honestly couldn’t believe how much better I was handling things today in comparison to yesterday’s hourly cry in the bathroom and clothes that smelt like a bar (had to drink my sorrows away a bit the night before).

Even as I was walking to use the restroom for its actual purpose instead of as a giant kleenex, I thought to myself, “You’ve made it through and you’re over it. You’ve pulled your shit together. Well done, Toftie.” A few minutes later I was looking down at my underwear around my knees (they’re never really at your ankles) and thought, “Well, Toft, you spoke too soon.” Underwear on inside out. Underneath it all…I was still a mess.

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With this kitchen, I thee wed.

Here I am in Spokane and my brand new house sits empty. I have boxes in the garage I didn’t bother to unpack, but I did set up my bed so if I decide to come home some weekend I’ll have a place to crash. My lovely next door neighbors, Dave and John, let the couch guys in so at least I have a couch, but really it’s just empty.

If it weren’t for my longing to live in my house, I actually like being in Spokane. My mom’s whole family is here and she’s the oldest of eight so you can just imagine the Catholicism at work here. This weekend I visited many relatives and helped move some of my grandparents stuff into their new place, but the best part of the whole weekend was playing with my cousin Denie’s two kids. Max and Ella are so clever and sweet. I wanted to pack them up and take them home. People have pointed out that the ticking of my clock is interrupting their conversations. Sorry. Never thought it would happen.

Until (if?) I follow the path of marriage and family, I have this house. People keep asking me if I feel any differently owning a house. What I realized is that I feel like I just married Seattle. It’s as if Seattle proposed to me a few years back and I thought long and hard about it, dated a few other cities, had a couple one night stands with some little towns, and flirted with a bunch of other states, until finally I said, “Alright Seattle, I think I do love you, let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

The truth is it’s all about the kitchen. When I was dating this guy a couple years ago, we used to joke that the only way he could get me to marry him was to build a beautiful master suite above his house. That sounds so materialistic of me, but well, I don’t know how to defend myself except that I knew it was a safe bet he wasn’t going to do that. My point is that Seattle wooed me with this beautiful kitchen and I was sunk. So here it is and here I am and all is good. Seattle and I shall have many a dinner party together in our kitchen of love.

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LizBear is Getting Lots of Love

Great news. I’m over in Spokane working for nine weeks, but was able to sign my papers on the house just before I left town. My friend Scott, my sister Maddy, and her co-worker Kevin all did the walkthrough on my place yesterday. If I had to pick three of the most nit-picky, OCD, thorough people in the world, it would be them. I am giddy with how they went through my place and found things I would never have seen. Great eyes and I owe them quite a bit for the amazing job.

The best part is that my realtor informed them I had officially closed and gave my keys to Scott so when I get home on the plane tonight I will be a brand new home owner!

This whole week knowing that I had done everything I could and had left my place in good hands, I slept so well. Better than I had in the past three months and I was more than happy to curl up with my Teddy Bear and fall asleep smiling.

Thank you everyone who helped me get through this. And an advance thank you to those who are helping me move half of my stuff in tomorrow morning before I fly back to Spokane for the rest of my stint as a Blue Shirt.

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Let’s make that a NONFAT Latte

Pants don’t fit. Too tight around the waist. Undo them in the car for my forty minute commute. Get out at a starbucks. All the business men sitting out front see me walking up with my pants undone. I mean really undone. Turn around to zip them back up and walk in with my head high. Nothing to see here folks.

It’s a proud moment.

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Top Ramen in an empty living room

I’m not sure why I haven’t been blogging about something big that’s happening in my life. I’d say there seems to be a trend that really important BIG days don’t get blogged about. For example, Dave and John’s wedding. That will probably be the wedding of my life. I doubt my sisters will get married and I don’t see me getting married. My parents were at the wedding and a good deal of the people I care about. Two men who I trust with my life started their lives together and I have to say it was one fucking unbelievable wedding.

I’m not into weddings. It’s just not my thing. When I go, I usually have more fun the night before when we are all out drinking and partying away with the excuse that it’s the last night for them to be single. But in this case the wedding itself was one of the most enjoyable days of my life. Quite possibly one of the biggest days of my life. How sad is that?

So why no blog? I guess it could be I keep some things private. Or it could be that I am so busy enjoying or going through the big stuff that I just don’t have time to sit down and write about it until it’s long over and then I feel like it’s too late.

But with the wedding, I think I was just worried I wouldn’t do it justice. It’s easy to write throw away entries on tea and ordering at a restaurant, but when you go to write about something that was unforgettable, suddenly you don’t think you are up to the task. And quite frankly, unless you know all of us or the grooms, you may not find it as special or interesting as I do.

So what is the new big thing, you’re asking?

What is it that has caused me to be stressed out, tired, excited, distracted, emotional, and just plain schizophrenic?

What has caused my cell phone minutes to run out and my email box to be overloaded?

What crazy thing am I doing now?

What am I doing that is going to drastically change my lifestyle?

What could make me eat tunafish out of a can instead of Mashikos at the sushi bar?

I just put an offer on a house.

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In a word, Mental Health, my mental health, your mental health, other people’s mental health…

I’ve been working in the Behavioral Health department at work this month and I have to say that it is by far my favorite place to be. The providers are almost always great to work with because they take everything in stride. “I have to learn an entirely new computer system? Well, I guess I’ll just work on my breathing and calming exercises.” 🙂

I park myself in a pass-through between hallways so everyone can find me and I basically stand there all day at my laptop. Actually, most of the time I can be found in various offices helping people because they have a lot of questions. Medical Records in mental health are trickier than other places because they need to only be visible to the Mental Health department and not the entire staff of the clinics. Makes it fun and gives me a lot to troubleshoot.

So I find myself wearing a path in the carpet as I wander from office to office answering questions and advising on work flow. Last week I noticed a divot in the carpet at one point in my path. My foot sunk down into it and I thought, “I don’t remember this being here before.” Today my foot fell into it again and I wondered if I had caused it to form. Did I walk too hard and often on this path that I have sunken in part of the floor? Was this here before?

First I found myself trying to avoid stepping into it out of fear I would make it worse or, even better, trip myself. Now I notice I am purposely synchronizing my steps to make it so I walk right into it because I find it comforting. A little blip in my day that makes me feel like I’m someplace familiar.

I think I’m starting to lose it. You don’t think so?

Example #2: While assisting a therapist in her office, I noticed the Game of Sorry. Do you remember that game? At first when I saw this in her bin of therapy games I thought “Why would she have that game? What could that possibly teach them?” But then I suddenly flashbacked to playing it as a kid and realizing it was completely horrifying to knock somebody off their path and send them back home. The game requires that you say, “I’m Sorry” when you do it and we always complied.

Example #3: I also realized that the only reason I liked playing the game was because of the way the pieces felt in my hand…and my mouth. Man I sucked on those little suckers all the time.

So, shall I make an appointment?

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Mornin’ Govenah!

So I think the shockingly terrible, or maybe wonderful, thing that has happened to me since starting XGym is that I may have become a morning person. I told someone recently that you couldn’t change who you are. If you aren’t a morning person, you will NEVER be a morning person. But I’m finding that if I get up before 8am, I do really well.

I can get my ass out of bed and in the shower (ee-gasp! shower for katie!) and I’ll even have enough time to grab a cappuccino or something on my way to work. Or on Wednesdays and Saturdays I eat a little cottage cheese before heading to my workout at 6:30 am.

The best part? I have the whole day to do whatever I need to do. Saturdays are wonderful now. Although I do start to get the heavy eyes and the tired thoughts around 11am, but I perk back up easily if the right activity is presented.

So I decree, I may be eating my words and turning over a new leaf. Although I still don’t like to talk in the morning. So don’t flipping talk to me if I’ve only been up for 45 minutes. I need time before I can be pleasant to other people. Except for Tasha, my sister’s cat. She can talk to me all she wants. I’ll be pleasant to her because she doesn’t require me to respond except with a kiss or a pet. I can do that. For anyone. But no talking.

So Good Morning everyone!

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Time is on our side, yes it is

The other day as I was rushing to work I glanced at my clock to see if I was running late. It read 8:23am and I was relieved to know that I had 7 minutes to make it to the parking garage and up to the floor of the clinic I needed to be on (which, in my calculation, would take 5 minutes). Sorry to disappoint, but this is not the beginning of an exciting story about me overcoming obstacles and miraculously making my way to work anyhow. This is merely a self-reflection piece. So gear up for cheesy useless Katie thoughts.

I realized at that moment in the car that there was no doubt in my mind that it was exactly 8:23am and it dawned on me that somewhere along the line, sometime in the last few years, I had stopped setting all my clocks ahead. It used to be standard for me, starting back in high school, to set my clocks at least 10-13 minutes ahead. People would always say, “But if you know it’s fast, you’ll just allow yourself to take more time.” This was not entirely true. I wouldn’t watch while I set the clocks ahead. I would close my eyes and hold down the button for a few seconds on each clock. None of them would say the same time and none of them would be the correct time, so there was no way of knowing what time it really was.

Of course, I had to redo this every so often once I would catch on to how fast they were because, yes, I would of course adjust to that time difference and invariably be late anyway. Especially if one clock is 12 minutes fast, but the other is only 7 minutes, because I would get them mixed up and think I had 5 more minutes of dilly dallying to do.

So where does this bring me? Today, all my clocks are within a minute of each other and a few of them are dead on. I find myself on time more often and I am more realistic about how long it takes for me to get anywhere or do anything.

So the other day in the car, I thought to myself, “When did all this start? When did I stop setting them ahead? And what does it say about me? Does it signify anything?”

I thought maybe it meant I was finally growing up. Or perhaps I was just becoming more responsible (those two things could go hand in hand). Then again, having a real job with real people waiting for you (not just people who want their porn, or other teenagers wanting to leave work) might make you take promptness more seriously.

In the end, I’ve decided that the real cause for my new “clock behavior” is due to cell phones. Specifically cell phones that set their time through the magic little signal coming through the air. Not to mention my need to catch a plane on time.

So I ask you this, how many of you set your clocks ahead? And if you did once, but don’t anymore, can pinpoint when and why that changed? Thoughts?

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Quiet Time with NPR, an Electric Sander, and a Beer.

My basement

As many of you know, I moved in with my sister into her new house (new to us, but built in 1929) and we have had a lot of projects. Our current project is the kitchen, which needed a complete paint job, new floor, and new molding. With the help of my sister and my own motivation to have it done, and then a surprise paint job from a friend of ours who is quickly becoming our Houseboy, we finally have the kitchen painted. But that leaves the floor and the cabinet doors and drawers.

On Saturday, while the Houseboy and Marie painted the last bit of the kitchen, I carted the doors and drawers down to the unfinished basement and set up shop at a couple of workbenches. After getting everything I needed, and using this great cordless drill/screwdriver to remove all the hinges, gifted to me by the Houseboy, I went to work sanding away. There is something methodical and comforting in the motions of sanding and vibrations of the motor. With two hands I gripped the sander and my mind went into a peaceful state of concentration. I wouldn’t say my mind was completely empty (I can remember replaying some silly shows plots around in my head a bit) but I do think it’s the closest thing to meditation that I have ever done.

After the sanding was done, I went upstairs to grab the portable radio and a beer, thanked our Houseboy for bringing the half rack over and for the helpful electric screwdriver, checked out his shirtless display, then headed back down to what had become my temporary sanctuary. I immediately put NPR on and began priming. In the midst of priming, the Houseboy brought me down some potato chips, which I gratefully accepted.

It wasn’t long before I was entranced by the priming. With perfect precision I did the edges and the fronts of the doors without dripping or pooling. In the background I realized I had become completely engrossed in Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz show on NPR. If you haven’t ever listened, she is this amusing and talented woman who has musical guests come on her show and play with her while they discuss their musical histories, their colorful lives, and reminisce about the greats. It is amazing to listen to because she is so humble yet no matter what the guest wants to play, she is able to accompany on her piano. Her guest on Saturday was trumpeter Jon Faddis whose mentor was Dizzy Gillespie, so his stories were incredible.

By the end of her show I realized that I had discovered a new pleasure. Not the jazz show per se, for I had listened to her before, but instead the enjoyment of having a workshop and a project, and the time to escape into it.

What could be better than NPR, a cold beer, potato chips, and a satisfying project? Now I know why my dad spent my life in his garage.

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Pink Elephants and Lemonade

Portland, Oregon

I’m starting to think that I need to create a category for my blog specifically called Karmic Balance or “It all evens out in the end.” If you recall I’ve had a few entries where just when I thought things were turning from bad to worse for me, I would be hit with perfect luck or that moment of clarity that was just what I needed. I would classify this week as one of those weeks.

This was the first time since losing my job that I could feel the dread of job hunting lurking around the corner about to bite me in the ass. Until now I have been traveling around as if I’m still being fronted by my sugar daddy employer from before. It wasn’t until I started helping my parents move and finally saw my sister’s new house that I realized I just wanted my life in Seattle to start now and that means getting a job. I was quickly ruling out the cruise ship job for that very reason. Then as some family junk was making me question why I was even staying in Seattle, I found out about a job that sounded like the perfect fit.

Now get ready for this. You may all hate me and as my dad would say, I’m unconscious (meaning that good things just happen to me without any effort on my part). After hearing of the job opening, I submitted my resume on Monday, was called Tuesday morning to set up an interview for Thursday, and on Friday I was accepting their job offer. As of January 12th I will be a working girl again. All thanks to five amazing people. Three former co-workers and two managers who all in some way, shape, or form helped me land this job with their recommendations and words of praise on my behalf.

Then to top it off I was lucky enough to attend the holiday party for said former job, and this time I worked up enough guts to talk to Bill Gates. The best part was I had the opportunity to tell him about Act of Giving and thank him for his generosity which helped to make it happen. But my original intention was to find out if he stayed at my grandparents’ house 30 years ago and that was a big no. Oh well.

Then to top off my impossible to top week, I jumped on the train and headed down to KB’s in Portland where I had a blast with the gang. There was great food, silly games, and much wine for me. And for those who may be wondering, yes I’m still wearing my outfit from the holiday party at KB’s because I only had a few minutes after a long crazy night to catch my train. And frankly, the outfit seemed train worthy. 🙂

Thanks to all for the support and good wishes. It’s sick that I only applied for this one job and got it. My parents think I’m the luckiest freak ever and I think my Dad worries about the day when my luck runs out and I get a job at the Olive Garden again. 🙂 Never!

The only downfall? I never filed for unemployment. I know, I know. Go ahead and kick me.

Last bit: A nice big e-mail from me to whoever can tell me where the title for entry comes from. (Max, I’m looking at you to get this one.)