I have reached a point where I can no longer continue being anti-social. During the winter months, my excuse for not being around people had been the miserable weather. Now that the weather has been sunny and warm, I have no excuse to turn my back to the world. Actually, I'm starting to go stir crazy from being in my own company so damn much. I need to get out and start enjoying everything that's around me. Otherwise, I fear that I will start smoking again and perhaps have my mind travel to places that aren't so pretty.
I called a friend of mine who is the male version of myself. We think a lot alike and it's just very comfortable being in his company. We decided that we would go to BB Kings Bar and Grill in 2 weeks to see a great bar band called Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. Just having made these plans to go and see this band had me feeling better. Plus, I love Manhattan.
I have made the decision to get back out there and start enjoying life. There is so much going on in NYC that I feel guilty for not taking advantage of some of the many things to do. I guess when the greatest city on earth is right there in your backyard, you keep thinking that you'll always have the opportunity to jump in and enjoy it whenever you feel like it.
I love NYC for many reasons. I won't even bother to try and sell you on it because you have to live in this area to really get the flavor of this fascinating city. I love the the shot of adrenalin I get as soon as my feet hit the ground in NYC. I feel more alive and a part of the world when I'm in Manhattan. Make no mistake about it, it has its downside. But I can't imagine a better place in the world to be, especially with my neurotic personality type.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Saturday, June 9, 2007
What Vanity!
The last cigarette I had was Tuesday night at 7 p.m. I remember that last cigarette well and I'm missing having one right now. I'm still experiencing the withdrawl symtoms which has me feeling great compassion for every drug addict trying to "kick their habit".
It should come as no surprise that the first cigarette I had was when I went to Turkey at the age of 19, Everybody - and I do mean eveybody - was smoking. I could not go anywhere in Turkey where at least more than half the people had a cigarette hanging out of their mouth. It became a situation where I thought if you can't beat 'em, join them. I also thought it would be a fine way to stay thin in that smoking would supress my appetite (remember, I was only 19). So my real reason for picking up the habit was out of vanity. It was not long before I became a full-time smoker.
Now 20 years later I'm trying to quit smoking for the same reason I started - vanity. I don't want to age prematurely and all of you already know that I am obssessed with staying and looking young. It's well documented that smoking causes wrinkles and I am determined to fight the aging process as much as I possibly can. That's what motivates me to stay off of cigarettes when I feel a weak moment coming on. Yes, I am aware that smoking causes everything from cancer to heart disease, and one would think that that should be enough reason for me to quit. But again, I can't see the damage being done to my heart or lungs, but I can see the harmful effects it can have on my face.
How would I be able to quit smoking? I needed to devise a strategy. So I asked myself the obvious question: When is it that I am not smoking? Sadly, the answer was that I don't smoke when I am at work or sleeping. Now I find myself going to bed at 8 p.m. just to not give in to my craving to have a smoke. They say that it takes 3 weeks to drop a habit, and that the highest rate of relapse is during those 3 weeks. I try to keep that in mind (along with the wrinkling) and keep telling myself that I am tougher than the addiction. But am I?
I guess in the end it doesn't really matter why I quit smoking. I'll tell you this much, I won't be going to Turkey until I'm 100% confident that I can resist having a cigarette.
It should come as no surprise that the first cigarette I had was when I went to Turkey at the age of 19, Everybody - and I do mean eveybody - was smoking. I could not go anywhere in Turkey where at least more than half the people had a cigarette hanging out of their mouth. It became a situation where I thought if you can't beat 'em, join them. I also thought it would be a fine way to stay thin in that smoking would supress my appetite (remember, I was only 19). So my real reason for picking up the habit was out of vanity. It was not long before I became a full-time smoker.
Now 20 years later I'm trying to quit smoking for the same reason I started - vanity. I don't want to age prematurely and all of you already know that I am obssessed with staying and looking young. It's well documented that smoking causes wrinkles and I am determined to fight the aging process as much as I possibly can. That's what motivates me to stay off of cigarettes when I feel a weak moment coming on. Yes, I am aware that smoking causes everything from cancer to heart disease, and one would think that that should be enough reason for me to quit. But again, I can't see the damage being done to my heart or lungs, but I can see the harmful effects it can have on my face.
How would I be able to quit smoking? I needed to devise a strategy. So I asked myself the obvious question: When is it that I am not smoking? Sadly, the answer was that I don't smoke when I am at work or sleeping. Now I find myself going to bed at 8 p.m. just to not give in to my craving to have a smoke. They say that it takes 3 weeks to drop a habit, and that the highest rate of relapse is during those 3 weeks. I try to keep that in mind (along with the wrinkling) and keep telling myself that I am tougher than the addiction. But am I?
I guess in the end it doesn't really matter why I quit smoking. I'll tell you this much, I won't be going to Turkey until I'm 100% confident that I can resist having a cigarette.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Ageism
Do you know that I would rather speak of my life's most painful events rather than to discuss my age? Yup, I'm that sensitive about it. It's a very, very touchy subject for me. Most people don't ask my age and I allow them to believe whatever age they think I am. If forced to, I will lie about it. I never understood why both men and women would lie about how old they are. That is, until now
What's the big deal about it? Ageism. It very much exists. It's a fact that older people have a tougher time landing a job, finding a mate and generally being seen as attractive by others. Are you with me on this? Guys: would you date a woman who was say 5 or ten years older than you? Women: same goes for you. Are you okay with dating or being in a relationship with someone 10 years your senior? Probably not. It was okay for me to date a 35 year old when I was 25, but now I look for men who are either around my age or are younger.
The only way to be considered young at the age of 40 is if you die at the age of 40. Then people will say, "How tragic. They were sooo young." But if you are alive and kicking at 40 what you may hear (if you are lucky) is "you look good for your age". Let me translate that for you: You are old. It's just a sad reality that we all must face someday.
Then there those people who try to make you feel better by saying things like "age is just a number". Yes, 40 is a number and it's a big number. Or how about this one: "it's not how old you are, it's all about how old you feel". Please stop saying these things, it just like pouring the salt directly on our open wound.
Yes, it is true that we get wiser as we get older, but I do fail to see any other advantages to aging. I wish to stay forever young!
What's the big deal about it? Ageism. It very much exists. It's a fact that older people have a tougher time landing a job, finding a mate and generally being seen as attractive by others. Are you with me on this? Guys: would you date a woman who was say 5 or ten years older than you? Women: same goes for you. Are you okay with dating or being in a relationship with someone 10 years your senior? Probably not. It was okay for me to date a 35 year old when I was 25, but now I look for men who are either around my age or are younger.
The only way to be considered young at the age of 40 is if you die at the age of 40. Then people will say, "How tragic. They were sooo young." But if you are alive and kicking at 40 what you may hear (if you are lucky) is "you look good for your age". Let me translate that for you: You are old. It's just a sad reality that we all must face someday.
Then there those people who try to make you feel better by saying things like "age is just a number". Yes, 40 is a number and it's a big number. Or how about this one: "it's not how old you are, it's all about how old you feel". Please stop saying these things, it just like pouring the salt directly on our open wound.
Yes, it is true that we get wiser as we get older, but I do fail to see any other advantages to aging. I wish to stay forever young!
Monday, June 4, 2007
Self-disclosure
I was once married to guy named Marc Bailey. Ladies, I am giving you his full name because in the unlikely event that you should come across him, RUN! I mean, run like a bat out of hell!
We both met at an alumni homecoming at the our alma mater. Although we attended the school at about the same time, our paths did not cross until many years later. At the social gathering, we met through a mutual friend. There were no "sparks" no "fire works", nothing. I was not attracted to him and we had little in common apart from having graduating from the same university.
You see, I did not even want to fly out for this event because I was in a deep and dark depression from losing someone close to me. That person's passing threw my world upside down. I spent a lot of time alone and felt no desire to socialize or do anything for that matter. After about a year of being a social recluse my friends and family began to worry because I had shut myself off from the world. At my friends urging, I got on a plane and I was off to Pittsburgh.
They thought that being in a familiar environment and with close friends may help me to get out of the funk I was in. I was going to be my closest friends. What harm could possibly come from that? Plenty.
I met my ex-husband the first day of this 3 day long event. I was a lost puppy and in need of some serious rescuing. Enter Satan, I mean my ex-husband. He was the perfect predator; and I, the perfect prey. He was soft-spoken and seemingly kind and generous. I had completely misjudged him and his true character.
He was living in Connecticut at the time and commuting 2 hours a day to see me. I actually knew then that he was bad news but I weak and vulnerable. After only 4 months of dating and one month of being engaged, we got married in Sin City. I would not recommend marrying in Las Vegas unless you are drunk out of your mind. But I was already out of my mind.
Marc played football at Pitt and is 5'11 and weighs in at about 250. I am 5'3'' and weigh in at about 105. As it turns out, Marc had anger issues and when he was explosive, I could not defend myself. Exactly one week after we married, he gave me my first black eye. I immediately called the police and he was arrested and I obtained a restraining order. What honeymoon! But it didn't end there because like all batterers, he "changed" and appeared remorseful and was just as sweet as can be...until his outbursts. It was a vicious cycle that I got caught up in and found difficult to escape since I was functioning on half a brain.
Here's how we know that people don't change. After a year long marriage, I filed for divorce. During the divorce proceedings, I learned that Marc's first wife also had a restraining order against him. Their marriage was also brief, lasting a mere 6 months. Had I known this, I absolutely would not have married him. I was still smart enough to know that people don't change. God only knows who he is beating up on now.
As a side note, I just wish to add, for those that asked me about my marriage and the events that unfolded assumed that I was married to a Turk and would say things like" I guess it's a cultural thing" "A cultural thing?", I would say, "he's American". People actually looked surprised and in some cases embarrassed (as though domestic violence doesn't occur in America!
Like many of you, I never could have imagined that I would be a victim of domestic violence. Not with my personality make up. No way! But I'm here to tell you that if you are making life decisions from a position of weakness, it can happen to anyone.
My marriage ended 5 years ago and I have no visible scars. But today I know the telltale signs of an abuser, and I can spot one coming a million miles away. There are lots of Marc Bailey's out there, unfortunately. And ladies, they select their victims very carefully. Beware. If it can happen to someone like me, it can happen to you. Any guy who is the least bit controlling has it in him. Steer clear and move on.
We both met at an alumni homecoming at the our alma mater. Although we attended the school at about the same time, our paths did not cross until many years later. At the social gathering, we met through a mutual friend. There were no "sparks" no "fire works", nothing. I was not attracted to him and we had little in common apart from having graduating from the same university.
You see, I did not even want to fly out for this event because I was in a deep and dark depression from losing someone close to me. That person's passing threw my world upside down. I spent a lot of time alone and felt no desire to socialize or do anything for that matter. After about a year of being a social recluse my friends and family began to worry because I had shut myself off from the world. At my friends urging, I got on a plane and I was off to Pittsburgh.
They thought that being in a familiar environment and with close friends may help me to get out of the funk I was in. I was going to be my closest friends. What harm could possibly come from that? Plenty.
I met my ex-husband the first day of this 3 day long event. I was a lost puppy and in need of some serious rescuing. Enter Satan, I mean my ex-husband. He was the perfect predator; and I, the perfect prey. He was soft-spoken and seemingly kind and generous. I had completely misjudged him and his true character.
He was living in Connecticut at the time and commuting 2 hours a day to see me. I actually knew then that he was bad news but I weak and vulnerable. After only 4 months of dating and one month of being engaged, we got married in Sin City. I would not recommend marrying in Las Vegas unless you are drunk out of your mind. But I was already out of my mind.
Marc played football at Pitt and is 5'11 and weighs in at about 250. I am 5'3'' and weigh in at about 105. As it turns out, Marc had anger issues and when he was explosive, I could not defend myself. Exactly one week after we married, he gave me my first black eye. I immediately called the police and he was arrested and I obtained a restraining order. What honeymoon! But it didn't end there because like all batterers, he "changed" and appeared remorseful and was just as sweet as can be...until his outbursts. It was a vicious cycle that I got caught up in and found difficult to escape since I was functioning on half a brain.
Here's how we know that people don't change. After a year long marriage, I filed for divorce. During the divorce proceedings, I learned that Marc's first wife also had a restraining order against him. Their marriage was also brief, lasting a mere 6 months. Had I known this, I absolutely would not have married him. I was still smart enough to know that people don't change. God only knows who he is beating up on now.
As a side note, I just wish to add, for those that asked me about my marriage and the events that unfolded assumed that I was married to a Turk and would say things like" I guess it's a cultural thing" "A cultural thing?", I would say, "he's American". People actually looked surprised and in some cases embarrassed (as though domestic violence doesn't occur in America!
Like many of you, I never could have imagined that I would be a victim of domestic violence. Not with my personality make up. No way! But I'm here to tell you that if you are making life decisions from a position of weakness, it can happen to anyone.
My marriage ended 5 years ago and I have no visible scars. But today I know the telltale signs of an abuser, and I can spot one coming a million miles away. There are lots of Marc Bailey's out there, unfortunately. And ladies, they select their victims very carefully. Beware. If it can happen to someone like me, it can happen to you. Any guy who is the least bit controlling has it in him. Steer clear and move on.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Stupid Cupid
As usual, I'm in a state of complete confusion about dating. More specifically, I have been asking myself lately if ethnicity makes any difference to me when it comes to romantic relationships. In many ways it would be easier to date someone who is Turkish, for obvious reasons. The familiarity of our culture would lessen the painstaking efforts I'd have to make to explain the Turkish way of life to a "foreigner". On the other hand, I find that the Turkish men that I meet are just too Turkish for me. What's a Turkish-American girl to do?
The non-Turks that I date find the Turkish thing to be exotic. They like that I am somewhat of a "foreigner" to them yet totally American in many other ways. The Turkish men that I meet - and there haven't been many - expect me to act more Turkish than I really am. Is any of this making any sense?
As I stated in a previous post, I thought that the answer to my problem would be solved by going on Turkish Personals. Surely I'd meet a Turkish-American like myself; someone who understands and appreciates both cultures. Or so I had thought But to my dismay, virtually every guy answered the questions on their profile in Turkish. And the ones that attempted to write in English had busted up English. Yet some of these guys identified themselves as being Turkish-American. They may have U.S. citizenship but they are not Americanized in the least.
The few Turkish-American men that I have met, I just wasn't attracted to. It's tough enough finding Mr. Right but when you throw 2 cultures into the mix, it seems like a formidable task. At this point, I'd be perfectly content with finding someone whose neuroses were compatible with mine.
The non-Turks that I date find the Turkish thing to be exotic. They like that I am somewhat of a "foreigner" to them yet totally American in many other ways. The Turkish men that I meet - and there haven't been many - expect me to act more Turkish than I really am. Is any of this making any sense?
As I stated in a previous post, I thought that the answer to my problem would be solved by going on Turkish Personals. Surely I'd meet a Turkish-American like myself; someone who understands and appreciates both cultures. Or so I had thought But to my dismay, virtually every guy answered the questions on their profile in Turkish. And the ones that attempted to write in English had busted up English. Yet some of these guys identified themselves as being Turkish-American. They may have U.S. citizenship but they are not Americanized in the least.
The few Turkish-American men that I have met, I just wasn't attracted to. It's tough enough finding Mr. Right but when you throw 2 cultures into the mix, it seems like a formidable task. At this point, I'd be perfectly content with finding someone whose neuroses were compatible with mine.
Panic Attacks and Chill Pills
It's no secret that that I have had my crappy bouts with depression over the past decade. That now seems to be under control with the help of a great anti-depressant. But I thought that I had moved past the panic attacks that used to accompany the depression. That is, up until yesterday. I was in my office and on my computer when BAM! I had my first panic attack in about a year. I never know when or if they are going to creep up on me , so I always carry around my emergency "chill pills". And thank goodness that I was in my office and able to reach for it when it hit me hard and fast.
Panic attacks are nothing like anxiety attacks (which I'm sure most of you have experienced at some point in your life). Anxiety attacks have a gradual onset and most of the time you know when and why they are coming on. Panic attacks come out of nowhere and they make you want to jump out of your skin. It's difficult to breath which leaves you feeling dizzy. You feel like you are going to pass out or die. My hands became numb. You have the urge to run but are left feeling paralyzed. They are terrifying, to say the least.
Within about 10 minutes or so, I felt the chill pill kicking in. This happened in the morning when I first go into work. Needless to say, I was the most relaxed employee in the organization that I work for. Nothing that took place at work had this Turkish girl feeling stressed!
My commute home was a breeze as well. I take the train to work and usually feel somewhat claustrophobic on it. When the train is packed, I sometimes would feel as though the crowded train is going to throw me into another panic attack, but just knowing that I have these meds makes me less anxious. For those of you who don't take commuter trains, I'm here to tell you that they stop in the middle of the tunnel from time-to-time. And it's hard to know when it's going start moving again. Not a good thing for those of us who suffer from panic attacks.
Because of yesterday's panic attack, I started to wonder if they are coming back or if this was just an isolated incident. They scare the shit out of me. Unless you have ever had one, you can't know how God awful they are. I can totally relate to Tony Soprano.
Panic attacks are nothing like anxiety attacks (which I'm sure most of you have experienced at some point in your life). Anxiety attacks have a gradual onset and most of the time you know when and why they are coming on. Panic attacks come out of nowhere and they make you want to jump out of your skin. It's difficult to breath which leaves you feeling dizzy. You feel like you are going to pass out or die. My hands became numb. You have the urge to run but are left feeling paralyzed. They are terrifying, to say the least.
Within about 10 minutes or so, I felt the chill pill kicking in. This happened in the morning when I first go into work. Needless to say, I was the most relaxed employee in the organization that I work for. Nothing that took place at work had this Turkish girl feeling stressed!
My commute home was a breeze as well. I take the train to work and usually feel somewhat claustrophobic on it. When the train is packed, I sometimes would feel as though the crowded train is going to throw me into another panic attack, but just knowing that I have these meds makes me less anxious. For those of you who don't take commuter trains, I'm here to tell you that they stop in the middle of the tunnel from time-to-time. And it's hard to know when it's going start moving again. Not a good thing for those of us who suffer from panic attacks.
Because of yesterday's panic attack, I started to wonder if they are coming back or if this was just an isolated incident. They scare the shit out of me. Unless you have ever had one, you can't know how God awful they are. I can totally relate to Tony Soprano.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Jesus Loves You
Here's my confessional: I once pretended to be deeply interested in Christianity to get closer to a born again Christian I once met. Let me start from the beginning. I went to my gym one day and learned that the hot abs instructor was Turkish. This guy was just smoking hot! And every gal at the gym was after his Turkish ass. When he found out that I was Turkish, he took an interest in me. We started hanging out together and I was in Heaven (if there is one).
What I quickly learned was that he had converted to Christianity and wanted for me to join his little cult. He would constantly bring up Jesus and talked about how my not accepting Jesus as my Lord and personal savior was the reason for any discontent in my life. But I thought "hey, I can act like I give a crap if that means being with him"
Yup, pretty soon I was going to church with him where I looked like a fish out of water. I couldn't follow which page they were on in the Bible during the sermons, but it didn't matter; I was sitting next to this hot guy. Shallow would be the perfect word to describe me. As I sat in a house of worship with him, my mind was having the most impure thoughts you can possibly imagine.
It wasn't long before I realized that his sole interest in me was to convert me. After awhile, I got tired of hearing about how much Jesus loves me. He also went onto to say that he could never be with a woman who did not not accept Jesus as the son of God. This "relationship" was going nowhere fast. I needed to end it and tell him that I would not convert AND that I do not subscribe to any organized religion.
What was interesting was the "social gathering" they would have after mass. I felt like a spy trying to get into the psyche of the members of this congregation and here's what I learned. Every person who "found" Jesus had the most horrendous life stories just before they became born again, including the hot Turkish personal trainer. These people were: sexually/physically abused as children, had addicts for parents or were addicts themselves, had unhealthy relationships, or simply felt lost...it just went on and on. I felt terribly sorry for each person that told me their personal story which lead to their finding Jesus. I had a lot of crap going on in my life at the time and was in need of a miracle myself. I understood how anyone can easily get sucked into any organized religion or cult if they are vulnerable and fragile enough. None of these people had a strong support system in place. That was the common thread. Now they felt like they were part of a "family".
I did not become a born again but I did feel awfully guilty for pretending to have an interest in what these people held so near and dear to their hearts. As for my Turkish personal trainer, he barely acknowledges me now. I can't say that I blame especially since I said a lot to challenge his beliefs. Okay, so it didn't work out but I sure learned a lot about those who are religious. I remain a deeply spiritual soul, but can't get on board with this religion thing.
What I quickly learned was that he had converted to Christianity and wanted for me to join his little cult. He would constantly bring up Jesus and talked about how my not accepting Jesus as my Lord and personal savior was the reason for any discontent in my life. But I thought "hey, I can act like I give a crap if that means being with him"
Yup, pretty soon I was going to church with him where I looked like a fish out of water. I couldn't follow which page they were on in the Bible during the sermons, but it didn't matter; I was sitting next to this hot guy. Shallow would be the perfect word to describe me. As I sat in a house of worship with him, my mind was having the most impure thoughts you can possibly imagine.
It wasn't long before I realized that his sole interest in me was to convert me. After awhile, I got tired of hearing about how much Jesus loves me. He also went onto to say that he could never be with a woman who did not not accept Jesus as the son of God. This "relationship" was going nowhere fast. I needed to end it and tell him that I would not convert AND that I do not subscribe to any organized religion.
What was interesting was the "social gathering" they would have after mass. I felt like a spy trying to get into the psyche of the members of this congregation and here's what I learned. Every person who "found" Jesus had the most horrendous life stories just before they became born again, including the hot Turkish personal trainer. These people were: sexually/physically abused as children, had addicts for parents or were addicts themselves, had unhealthy relationships, or simply felt lost...it just went on and on. I felt terribly sorry for each person that told me their personal story which lead to their finding Jesus. I had a lot of crap going on in my life at the time and was in need of a miracle myself. I understood how anyone can easily get sucked into any organized religion or cult if they are vulnerable and fragile enough. None of these people had a strong support system in place. That was the common thread. Now they felt like they were part of a "family".
I did not become a born again but I did feel awfully guilty for pretending to have an interest in what these people held so near and dear to their hearts. As for my Turkish personal trainer, he barely acknowledges me now. I can't say that I blame especially since I said a lot to challenge his beliefs. Okay, so it didn't work out but I sure learned a lot about those who are religious. I remain a deeply spiritual soul, but can't get on board with this religion thing.
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