Lately I’ve spent a lot of time saying the following phrase “It could have been worse”.  I say it in regards to my recent hospitalization.  I say it about the bills I’m paying as a result of that hospitalization.  I say it when speaking about the new diet and exercise program I’m starting, and the stress I’ve been under, and really, at this point, most of my life.   It has become kind of a mantra.

Now, mind you, I really mean that things could have been worse when I say my new mantra.  I realize the consequences of my heart problems could have been far more disastrous.  I realize that my insurance could have paid far less of the bills from my hospitalization.  I realize that learning to eat differently and exercise more is not the end of the world as I know it, and that life will continue even if I never eat another Idaho pizza or a plate of nachos.   I do know I’m fortunate and I’m grateful for that fortune.  

The problem is, I’m also a bit angry.  For every “It could have been worse” there’s a little voice inside of me that’s saying “It could have been better” too.  I could have taken better care of myself and perhaps not ended up in the hospital.  I could have lost weight and gotten in shape far earlier than this.  I could have avoided having to spend money I really don’t have to pay bills I really don’t want to pay.  If I’d treated myself better and acted like an intelligent human being, I might have avoided a lot of what is happening now. 

They say hindsight is 20/20, and I suppose they’re right.  My problem is that I keep trying to look on the bright side while simultaneously realizing that I created the dark side myself.  Things could have been better had I done what I knew should have been done.  The hard fact is I didn’t and I’m mad at myself because of that fact.  If I’d treated myself like I mattered, a lot of this might not have happened.  Or maybe everything would have gone down exactly the same, there’s really no way to know. 

I guess, in the end, we all have to do the best we can where we are at that time.  One thing my recent experiences have taught me is that I need to like myself more, and treat myself with more respect.  That means eating right, exercising, listening to the signals that my body gives me when it is unwell, and dealing with those signals instead of ignoring them.  Yes, things could have been worse, but they also could have been better.

Next time, if it is in my power, they will be.

As some of you may know, if you’ve read anything else on this blog, I recently spent a week in the hospital.  I’m still receiving bills as a result of my stay. The latest was a $2,500 bill for which I am responsible.  The total which I owe now stands at about $4,000.  Granted, that’s out of probably a $25,000+ bill, so it could have been a lot worse, but still, that’s $4,000 I don’t have on hand, and money that I had earmarked for other things when I did get it.

All things considered, I suppose I’m lucky.  I have insurance and it is reasonably good.  I could be facing paying a much larger portion of the bill.  I could have no insurance at all and be paying the entire bill.  There are a lot of people facing that issue, and I’m betting most of them would be happy to be in my position.  So, I am grateful for the insurance I have. 

One thing this whole recent health scare has taught me is how valuable your health can be and how hard you should work to safeguard it.  I know I need to lose weight and get into better physical shape, and if living a longer, healthier life wasn’t enough incentive I now also have the incentive of saving money.  After all, if I’m healthier and more fit, I’m less likely to have health problems that will put me in the hospital.   That only makes sense.

Today, as I contemplate bills that I know I can pay, even if I’m a bit grumpy about doing so and even if it will take a while, my heart goes out to all the people who aren’t getting care or who are going hideously in debt.  I may grumble, but I do know that, all things considered, I’m pretty lucky to be where I am and to have the insurance coverage that I do. 

All in all, I’m pretty fortunate and, even when I’m grouchy, I do remember that.

I try to think positive.  When I was younger I often took the negative view of everything.  If there was a bright or a dark way to look at a situation, I was firmly on the dark side.  Finally, a well meaning friend took me aside and explained that, not only was I not helping myself, but I was really becoming a pain in the ass for those around me.  I sat down and took a hard look at myself and realized I didn’t want to be that person.  I resolved from then on to be more cheerful, positive and upbeat and to look at the bright side of things.  Most of the time I’m able to do that.  Occasionally, like today, I’m not.

When I came back from my recent hospitalization, I was told that I needed to get some FMLA paperwork filled out and, when this paperwork was submitted, my absence would be covered.  I wouldn’t have to use any vacation, and I wouldn’t lose any money.  As it turns out, that summation of my situation may not have been accurate.  Now it seems, I may lose all my vacation and all my personal days and be left with the prospect of any further absences being unpaid. 

Now, looking on the bright side, I realize that I’m lucky to have a job with decent health insurance to begin with.  I’m lucky that I got good care during my recent health scare and I’m lucky that something much worse didn’t happen to me.  Although I do have some medical bills to pay, I’m making enough so I can get them paid.  My car is paid for.  My rent is cheap.  I’m writing this on a nearly new laptop which is connected to the Internet through a high speed connection.  I’m not starving, or suffering from a terminal illness.  Last year I only used two of the five vacation days I was allowed, so I probably wouldn’t have used all my vacation this year either.  Also, even if I had known what might happen, I wouldn’t have made a different choice anyway.  My health had to come first.

So, obviously, this isn’t the worst news I’ve ever had.  There are a lot of positive things in my life and a lot of positive ways to look at the situation.  My brain knows this, but the five year old kid inside of me is just pissed.  Sometimes, as much as I want to look on the bright side and be grateful for what I have, I can’t do it. Sometimes I’m not sure what I have is so great.

I guess, sometimes, you just have to take a moment and wallow in being mad and disappointed.  Tomorrow is another day and anything could happen.  All things considered there is much more good in my life than bad.  Although I sometimes want to complain, there isn’t that much that really warrants complaint.  So, I’ll cling to my resolution to be positive and tell myself that tomorrow will look brighter.  I’ll also cling to my belief that believing that will work.

Because, you see, sometimes it doesn’t.  

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about where I want my life to go.  I’ve realized that, given recent events, I may not have as much time as I want to believe I have.  I don’t say that to illicit sympathy, it is simply a reality.  Having an episode of a-fib at 39 doesn’t exactly bode well for future heart health.  So, I may not have much more time to waste on settling. 

Here’s the real problem, though.  It’s not so much that I don’t know what I want, it’s that I don’t think I deserve what I want.  In my head I can think that I deserve to structure my work life so I’m getting paid what I’m worth and enjoying the work.  In my head I can believe that I deserve to have a nice home that reflects my tastes. In my head I can believe that I deserve to have loving relationships with people who value me and love me back.  In my head I can believe a lot of things, but every time I have these thoughts, this little voice pops into my head as well.  All it says is “No, you don’t.”

I think the real problem is that I know all the right words to say, and I know all the right feelings that I should be having, but I can’t seem to internalize them.  On one hand I do believe I’m a good person who deserves health and love and success.  On the other hand there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe that, and that’s the part I seem to listen to the most.  If you asked me, I’d say I love myself and that I deserve only the best.  Unfortunately, I sometimes feel like I’m only paying lip service to that idea.

Loving yourself is always hard for people who’ve been abused.  If you’re told enough that it’s your fault and you deserve it, you come to think that’s true.  As much as I want to believe I know my own worth, when I step back from myself and watch my own actions, it quickly becomes apparent that I don’t believe as much as I would like to think I do.  That makes me sad, and also angry, because I’m letting that little voice hold me back and I do deserve a better life. 

I guess, in the end, the only thing to do is to ignore that little voice and press on regardless of what it might be telling me.  I’ve never been one for affirmations, but in this case I might make an exception.  Here’s what I’m going to be telling myself from now on.

I am worthy, I am worth it, and I refuse to settle for less anymore.

I suppose, if I were asked, I would say that my primary goal in life is to be happy. Being happy isn’t something I’ve managed to do very often in my life.  I was either worrying about the future, trying to manage the catastrophe that was my present, or brooding about the past.  I’ve never been good at being happy, largely because I’ve never been entirely sure what would make me happy.

When I was broke, and eating every third day, I thought money was the answer.  Now I’m gainfully employed and have a savings, and I’m not any happier.  When I had boring jobs that didn’t challenge me, I thought having a job that allowed me to use my talents and placed demands on me would make me happy.  Now I have that sort of job (sort of anyway) and I’ve discovered that isn’t the key to happiness either.  Over the years I’ve thought the key to happiness lay in being part of a couple, being thin, being away from my family, being with my family, writing, not writing, being in charge, and being a drone.  About the only thing I haven’t tried to find happiness in is religion.  We won’t, at this point, go into the reasons why.

You may have noticed that, since my recent illness, I haven’t been updating this blog very regularly.  There are a couple of reasons for that.  One is that being ill shook my world view a little bit.  Things that I thought really mattered were revealed as meaning very little.  Things I depended on were revealed to be more shaky than I had suspected.  I felt, and still feel I guess, that I was being pushed to settle for less and I wasn’t sure how I could continue to pursue settling for more.  The truth is I’m still not sure. 

That lack of certainty is the other reason I’ve had difficulty writing here lately.  How can I say that settling for more is the way to go when I’m not even sure what my more is, much less how I’m going to get there.  One thing my recent illness did teach me is that life is short, and that I need to get moving if I want to build the kind of life I want to live.  The problem is I’m not sure in which direction to move, or where I want to be when my journey toward settling for more ends.

A friend of mine, who is quite wise, tells me that when you’re on the right path the universe will support you.   I really, really want to believe that, but I’m not sure that I do.  I’ve always had a problem with trust, whether it is trusting another person or trusting the universe to work for my highest good.  I can say the words, but I’m not sure I believe the sentiment.  I really do want to believe though. 

Maybe, when you think about, believing is my first step toward settling for more.

I live in an apartment building.  It’s a quiet building with eight units.  Most of the people who live here are singles or young, married couples.  The rent is reasonable and the building is safe and we have a pretty good cross section of people here.  Apartments do change occupants, but the same types of people seem to move in and out, that is until recently.

A few months ago Very Annoying Mom (VAM) and her Very Annoying Kid (VAK) moved in.  VAM is recently divorced and seems to specialize in the poor, wounded woman persona.  I met her in the parking lot one night as we were both arriving home, and she asked me in a wistful, sighing voice what one should cook when one is cooking for one.  Apparently, up until recently, she “had a family”.  I muttered something about stirfrys and escaped as fast as possible.  VAM and I haven’t talked much since.

VAK is probably eight or nine, but sounds and behaves as though she is about four.  She is one of those pre-teen girls who has been taught to act younger than she is as though that will be cute.  She also is prone to hysterics, which VAM likes to share with the building.  You haven’t lived until you’ve heard a nine year old screech and cry about lunch at the top of her lungs.  If I weren’t already certain I didn’t want children, VAK would certainly have put the nail in that coffin.

Taken alone and together, both VAM and VAK are annoying, but what I can’t figure out is why they annoy me so much.  I don’t really have that much actual contact with them.  I don’t live above them, so it isn’t as though I hear the noises they make every day.  In fact, other than hearing them enter and exit the building on occasion, and listening to VAK’s random hysteria fits, I don’t have much to do with either of them at all.  Still, I find even the thought of them annoying.

I guess, probably, I see what I might have been, or even was, in both of them.  VAK does remind me a bit of me, desperate for attention and sensitive.  I want so badly to tell her she needs to toughen up and start acting her age.  VAM reminds me of me in my wounded bird phase.  I want to tell her much the same thing I want to tell her daughter.  I also wonder if both of them are reflecting parts of myself that I didn’t like and don’t want to remember and that’s why I find them so annoying. 

Or maybe I’m just analyzing things too much.

It could, after all, just be that they’re both really annoying.

I never have been one for the bar scene.  I like to sit in a restaurant and have a conversation and a meal with people who can hold a good conversation. I enjoy playing cards or board games.  I want to do something that both entertains me and uses my mind.  I also, however, need my quiet and my peace.  I like my time to think and dream and write, and mostly I like to do that sort of thing alone.

I’ve never been what you would call a social butterfly.  I’ve always had friends, but I’ve never been one who needed people around me every minute.  In fact, too many people around me, wanting too many things, tends to stress me out. 

One of the things I’ve learned is that I need people.  I want to have close relationships and friendships and hopefully a love relationship. I never have had doubts about my ability to give in such relationships, what remains a problem is my ability to take.  I’m fiercely independent and I have a hard time letting other people help me.  I also have a hard time admitting I need other people. 

One of the goals I’ve set for myself is to cultivate some new relationships and to meet new people.  I miss having friends I can sit and discuss issues with, or people I know I can count on just as I know they can count on me.  I’ve resolved that I will step out of my old ruts and try some new paths and see where they lead.  I may not become a social butterfly, but I will become at least a social caterpillar.  I think it will do me good.

One of the things I’ve realized is that other people can bring part of the more that I want to my life.   I’ve been looking to myself to supply all the things I think I want, and I’m coming to recognize that’s not possible.  If I truly want to settle for more, I’m also going to have to settle for the idea of letting more people into my life, and of letting myself be open to the possibility of being close to those people and maybe coming to need them.  As scary as that sounds at times, I also think allowing myself this experience will enrich my life in ways I probably can’t even fathom.

And that, truly, would be settling for more.

I’ve always been a secret romantic.  I want the girl to get the guy, and I want her to be treated like a princess.  I’ve always loved the movies where the shy, unassuming girl is seen for who she really is by the man who sees what no one else can see.  I want, oh how I want, to believe that can happen.  I guess I do believe that can happen, I’m just not sure it can happen for me.

I look around and see everyone paired up and wonder why I always seem to be a solo act.  I know part of it is my own fear, and a lot of it has been, in times past, lack of self confidence.  There was probably a healthy dose of self sabotage.  I had a tendency to develop crushes on men who were either unavailable or had some fatal flaw.  As I’ve said before, guaranteed failure makes the whole process a lot easier.  When you know everything will end in tears and flames it takes a lot of the worry out of the relationship.

My fear is that I will never meet that guy.  I have too much respect for myself to settle for less than what I want, which is, I suppose, a good thing.  What that leaves me with, however, is the impossible dream of the perfect guy, and the hard reality of being alone.   I can’t seem to find any middle ground on this one.

I look at other people, those who aren’t as pretty as me, those women who are awful to their boyfriends or husbands, those women who seem to take being loved for granted, and I wonder what they have that I don’t have.  Maybe it is as simple as they have the courage to put themselves out there and I have yet to take that step.  Maybe their standards are different than mine.  Maybe the men they date or marry are men I wouldn’t have at any price. 

Never having been part of a healthy, supportive relationship, I can’t say I know what one is like.  I, of course, have fantasies of what it would be, probably nurtured by reading far too many romance books and watching too many sappy movies.  Still, I’d like to experience, just once, being the center of a man’s admiration and attention.  I’d like to be spoiled a bit, and I’d like to do some spoiling in return.  I know I have a lot to give, I’m just afraid I’m going to end up giving only to my 20 cats, and not another human person who can love me back.

I guess the first step is to start getting out there more and see who is looking as well.  If I truly believe I have something to offer, I need to make that known.  My knight in shining armor is out there, I think.  I guess I’ll just have to go find him.