Emotional intelligent quotient on the rise

There was a time in my life when I couldn't handle shit. I was always emotional, crying and hated when shit didn't go my way. No one ever saw that side of me unless they were in my inner circle. To the world at large, I was hard as a rock, impenetrable and stoic even. But I would break down when I was on my own. I happen to have a pretty decent IQ, but emotionally? It's my Achilles heel.

Or so I thought.

It just occurred to me this evening that I'm amidst a pretty complicated situation and handling it with amazing levity. I don't really feel emotionally torn up about it ... But the old me would've been distraught and crying and seeking thejadednyer's ear and shoulder. (I don't know how she's put up with me for so long). But I'm not ... But I have a few things to get off my chest just the same:

Thejadednyer (google her ... Her blog is great and she's one of my bestest besties and has known me for longer than I care to admit.) had once told me that I just keep going on out there dating even after all the shit I've been through. And, if there's one difference between her and I ... It's that I refuse to be jaded.

For me, look - i have been cheated on, yes: but I have never cheated. Never.

I have been dragged through court on ridiculous charges that were totally dropped 1 hour before court was in session - but I have never treated someone unfairly.

I have known love and lost love and know what it's like to be hurt ... But in the end, it really was good for me.

But I will not be jaded ... My experiences are what they are ... And I have gleaned from them every drop of educative benefit that I could ... And I have walked away from what was left over a better person ... And ready to try again.

But let me get indignant for a second: I refuse ... REFUSE to give any one of my ex's one IOTA more of my life. If I stay paralyzed by indecision, but the fear to move on, of getting hurt ... Well, I continue to give him control over me. Really?! He'll to the mutha fucking naw.

So, my refusal to be jaded ... The thing that keeps me moving forward and ready to try again ... And again ... And again? It's this: I will not live in bondage to an ex.

Naan uh one of em.

Unloveable

In my last post, I briefly touched on my own personal battles with feeling like I do not possess the ability to be loved. After discussing the post with a friend, I thought I would expound upon that ... mainly because he mentioned that I wasn't the only one who felt that way.

That took me aback, actually - I really thought that shit was specific to my crazy ass. Knowing that readers could potentially see themselves in what I write, and that they could potentially comment below to say some things that would enlighten me ... that has egged me on all the more.

First, you need to know that I always felt misplaced as a kid. I never, ever really felt at home ... well, anywhere. When I was born, I left the hospital with my aunt and uncle after a three-month stint in an incubator. My mother wasn't exactly "motherly" and, quite frankly, she couldn't stand the sight of me ... so my aunt raised me until I was 9. That's when I finally moved in with my mom.

While I lived with my aunt and uncle - I never really had a room. I always shared a place to sleep with one of my cousins. And I mean shared a bed, not just shared a room. I didn't have my own bed. Until I was 9.

AFter I moved in with my mom, I always felt like a nuisance - my brother was always getting into trouble with gangs, and gang fights, and failing grades ... and I trudged along like a greased wheel ... tired of spinning but not really making any noise. So, while I had my own bed - I was still somewhat obscure.

So - that's the synopsis ... and from where stems this feeling within me that I cannot possibly be the object of someone's love. It was a battle for a really long time - when I myself fell in love when I was 21 ... I was scared as hell. Scared that he couldn't feel the same way I did ... because I was wanting him to feel that way about ME. I wanted him to love me - but I didn't think it was possible for love within him to be directed at me. I just struggled with it whenever he said I Love You - he said it first ... and it was weeks before I said it back.

"I know you love me, too," he said one day. "I'll wait until you're ready to say it."

(I threw that in there because it's one of the devices I use to talk myself through it when I feel unloveable ... I *saw* the love he had for me - it resided in him and I could SEE it when he looked at me and said that)

Feeling like no one can possibly love me? That has become a defense mechanism for me. It's comfortable, and like a security blanket, it's been with me for a long time. I KNOW that feeling - and knowing it makes me comfortable ... even if it sucks. And occasionally I find myself traveling down that path, feeling woe-is-me about love because I'm unloveable.

But a few things helped me get through it and those few things still help me snap out of it today:

1) I'm a grown ass man - what the fuck I look like trying to blame my mommy for my not having a partner? I'm thirty-fuckin-five .. my mommy? Seriously, at some point after 18, a man has to be a man, has to man up and has to take responsibility for his own shit. Still blame momma? No - that won't be me.

2) I fucking adore me! I really do - I happen to think I'm funny as hell, I think I'm relatively smart, I know I'm a good dad ... and all-in-all, I'm fucking great I think. I don't like pain and I don't like for things to hurt ... so why would I allow me to scar myself with giving in to feeling unloveable ... when *I* love me. As real as is my propensity to love myself is my ability to be loved. Right? My own love for me proves that I am able to be loved.

3) There's just too much other shit to think about. Work, kids, shopping, finances, cooking, cleaning, driving, mowing the lawn ... there's too much riding on my ability to function and I simply can NOT give in to a way of thinking that has long ago proven to spin me into depressive cycles. I hate depressive cycles - and I will not willingly choose to get into one.

Those are the top three - yes, I'm 35 and single ... but I have two kids who love me, own a home, a car and have a pretty decent balance in my 401(K) ... so, I haven't been successful in finding a partner yet ...

... but my being single does not a failure make me.

And I'm not looking for someone to complete me. My partner needs to complement me. I am whole already.

The many faces of Mr. Right

Some time ago, I thought I had run into The One. And by some time ago, I mean ... nearly 2 years ago. By the time I had the courage to do something about it, I found that I didn't have nearly the courage that I thought. It was riddled with anecdotes and ummms and such ... and Im not particularly proud of how i handled that.

But the truth is that he embodied the great majority of the things i want in a partner. And that really made me nervous broaching the subject - and well, whatever, there was no reciprocity (as it turned out) and I suppose it doesn't really matter HOW that all clumsily stumbled out of my mouth. I put my grown man on, accepted it and kept i moving. The truth is that I dont care how deeply I care about someone - if reciprocity is nil, then no matter how I *feel* about it, I'm going to behave accordingly and keep it moving. And thats what I did.

However, what I haven't breathed to a soul ... not to him, not to my family, not to my best friends, not even to god almighty ... is this: The thing that made me nervous is both the thing within me that foretold what his response was going to be and the thing that rears its ugly head periodically when I am far from the mountain tops of life ...the notion that I simply do not possess the ability to be loved.

Crazy, right?

I could go on and on about my childhood to cite instances that tore into the fallow ground of my adolescent heart and planted that self-deprecating seed within me - but, i will give a synopsis of the cliff notes version here: by the time I was 10, I knew mine was a pregnancy my mother didn't want, that she tried to abort me and she gave me to her brother and sister-in-law to raise because she just didn't appreciate the sight of me.

Look, Im a grown ass man, a father of two, earned a bachelors degree and then a masters degree and have been on my own since I was 17 ... I am not in somw whoa-is-me place begging for someone to save me from me ... I have dealt with this, I know from where it stems and I know how to talk myself through it when I fall into old ways of thinking. Just know that dealing with that rejection wasn't easy - and know that he doesn't know how hard that was.

The main reason he doesn't know is that people have a tendency to think more highly of themselves when someone is crushed by their disinterest - but this wasn't about him and his rejecting me and about what a great thing I lost when he said he wasn't interested. It was about me ... and my own bouts with self-doubt. I had to fight hard as hell after that not to fall into some matter-of-fact place where i simply chalk it up to "eh - I mean, its ME ... why WOULD he be interested." because that would have meant that my life is meaningless, my love is worthless and my body isnt a temple after all.

Again .. not because of HIM, but because of ME. I had to keep reminding myself that I have made enormous changes in my life because I *am* lovable ... that he wasn't proof that the rejections in my childhood were indications that I lacked the ability to be loved. He was simply just another fool who couldn't see the venerable storehouse of good things within me. like my momma was. I posses the ability to be loved, dammit ... i simply do.

So - what if after all that work ... he gives an indication that maybe he was interested all along?

Busy beyond belief, but bussin' for baby

I'm sitting on the floor at the San Antonio airport waiting for my 615am departure. They've already changed the gate from one end of the world to the other and now there are two flights out ofthe new gate at the same time. I don't kow how they plan to work that out, but they better get their shit together. I have a connection in Atlanta that I do not intend to miss ... I've got to make it home to my baby girl.

She's nine today. Nine. I've struggled wi it this morning, accepting that I have a nine year old. Not that I feel old or anything, because I don't ... I just can't accept that she's her own little person with her own ideas and ability to vocalize them to the world at large. I want her to still be small, dependent on me and for that look of utter adoration when she looks at me to last forever.

Fortunately, it's still there. She called me yesterday to tell me that she really misses me and I nearly changed my flight Ruhr then, left the board meeting and went on home to her. Oh, how I love my daughter. Today is all about her.

So, if airtran airways plans on fucking with my travel plans this morning, I'm a lose my got.damn.mind. Like Lil Kim did ....

"who da fuck want war? FedEx beef right to your front door ..."

Getting a Grip

So, my last post - I guess I really did put a lot out there. I just reread it and I can't believe how MUCH I fucking said - lol.

Anyway - I had this notion in my head that I would let myself indulge through the holidays and so I did. And then the holidays were over and I started to count calories and I've done so successfully for more than a week. I've lost 6 pounds.

My goal is a total of 30 pounds - so that's 20% complete.

Admittedly, it's all been about eating properly and portion control ... very, VERY little about exercise. One fucking thing at a time - ok? I gave up smoking, I gave up casual NSA sex, I trained for and completed a half marathon ... and that all in the last 12 months.

So, I know about setting a goal and sticking to it.

I just really need to do one thing at a time. When I feel as though I've got a good grip on the eating thing, I'll be able to wrap my mind around the exercise thing. It will happen. Six pounds per month is really all I'm after.

Of course, the first six are always easy - I'll HAVE to go back to the gym to get the rest off - but hey - six pounds already and I'm done for January, ok?

I'm trying to get a grip on my time, my family life, my career and reaching a better balance - so, there's that too. I swear to GOD I'm not taking no nonsense into my 40s. I've 5 years left and I can't let life grap me by the ankle and body slam me at will ... I've got to be the one grabbing life by the horns.

More on the family, career, blah blah blah stuff later.

Sex and Cigarettes: Diet and Exercise

I must admit that when I say I haven't had sex since mid-December 2009, I do mean intercourse. The totality of everything else since mid-December is like 4 sessions - and I didn't even let it go very far those times. So, seriously - JACK had more sexual contact in a _month_ than I've had in 12. I do consider that progress.

PLUS - I know the name of each dude I fooled around with. That's a HUGE difference.

It's going on 47 weeks without a cigarette, though - and there I have not cheated at all. I have not put a cigarette to my lips since January 4. In fact, I have not touched one, lit one or otherwise engaged in any inappropriate cigarette touching in all this time.

In these two areas of my life I have seen great progress in 2010.

Diet and Exercise? Stop judging me, already!

Seriously, though, I have to really get a grip on my having given up on going to the gym and on eating healthily. Knowing myself as an emotional eater, I wonder if I shouldn't make an appointment with a counselor to discuss some things. I might need his objectivity, and the fact that I haven't seen him in 3 or 4 years would really make a session or two with him actually FEEL objective.

I am realizing that the issue with my First Love is a problem for me. His asking me for my blessing to marry another man was an emotional blow and while I hid it very well, I can't deny that it's been there bothering me. And as I contemplate how much I've eaten in the last week (under the guise of thanksgiving feasting), I really have to admit to myself that the totality of that situation is a heavy weight.

And it is so because I can't confront my ex-wife about the role she played in keeping him and me apart because we're co-parenting and I really can't let all of that out because when she feels attacked and gets defensive, she's like a cornered opossum ... and I've not intentions on co-parenting with a rabid wild animal.

I really do think that if I see that social worker again and just let it out, confess out loud that I forgive her and really do give him my blessing, then I can really deal with how my emotions about it have affected my diet and exercise habits.

I know it may sound crazy - but I am quite self-aware ... and the fact that the one person I have ever been in love with was actually in love with me too and opined for me as much as I did for him really does make me wonder What If.

What if I had the balls to be out the closet when I was in college ...
What if I actually had told him that he was my first boyfriend, that I was a virgin when I met him?
What if I fought for him?

And while I know I wouldn't have my children and my career and the life i currently have - that I would be a different me today, and that I really do love me ... even tough wouldn't change a thing ... I wonder: What if.

It's time I stop the bullshit and answer the only question that makes a lick of sense: What if I actually dealt with this in the here and now?

I died a little today

I told my daughter that I wanted to make sure we deep conditioned her hair tonight - it was a dry ratty mess and I have this "thing" about her walking around looking like her dad did her hair. I'm a GAY dad, dammit - her hair should be on point. So, this is no new thing - I have been doing her hair since forever. And I've come to enjoy it.

Today she asked me WHY. Why did I want to condition her hair. Um, because it's a dry ratty mess, that's why. So, she called me into the bathroom after she had brushed the conditioner through. And like we've done for going on eight years - I sat on the toilet running the wet comb through her hair making sure every bit of it was untangled ... while we talked. I like those moments while I condition and detangle her hair - we talk about things she thinks about and it's just OUR time.

She had her arms crossed over her chest today. And she kept trying to hide herself behind her arms. I kept wondering what the hell was wrong with her - and then it hit me. OMG - she's growing up. Yes, I understand she's been wearing a bra for the greater part of this year and that she's beginning to fill in those damn trainers. But she's still 8 and she's still my baby girl and I still do her hair!

But, I asked her - "baby, does it make you uncomfortable that I'm in here when you're naked?

"Well, yes."

"Oh - I'm sorry, honey. I can leave."

"ok."

As I left the bathroom, she said, "thank you."

"You're welcome, baby."

I came back to this here computer to ponder what had just happened - and that while I understood this moment in ethereal terms, it was always far off ... and it definitely wasn't TODAY. I sat in front of my computer and waited for her to get dressed and come on out of her room after she was done with her bath.

"Baby - I'm really sorry I was making you uncomfortable - I just didn't know."

"You're fine," she said as she walked off into the living room holding the stuffed snowman she can't sleep without.