...be-cuz, as a Recovering Good Girl, it's important for me to start swearing more.)

I also have to stop saying "hello" to every single person I see in the hallway, asking every pregnant woman I meet about her pregnancy, and telling people that they need to "start taking better care of themselves." Why do I have to be so damn nice?! I also have to start saying the word "No" and "Yes," in opposite contexts. For instance, I need to practice saying things like, "Yes," when people ask me if I'm too busy to listen to their long-winded story about shopping at Target (I know I have my own Target stories...but they're short...) and "No" when vampires ask me to be their therapist (I mean they're nice people, but they do suck blood...and that's just the truth...)

Just for today, I can take a small step towards recovering from compulsive niceness by using the F word in my blog.

I just sent a scary e-mail to the GUY (the guy I'm dating) telling him a bunch of things I wouldn't be able to say in real life. Because despite what my therapist thinks, I am a grown woman who doesn't "expect people to be able to read my mind," but am mature enough to ASK FOR MY NEEDS TO BE MET!

So, I sent a scary e-mail asking scary questions like:

"Would you take me to see iRobot?"

(Not that he doesn't take me out, but, unlike me, he's not one to getexcited about cheezeball formulaic Hollywood movies.)

Because I'm ASKING for my NEEDS TO BE MET!

PLEASE NOTE: While I respect conventinonal self-help psycho babble for creating concepts like "asking for your needs to be met," after having listened to Esther Hicks-Abraham (she's this Texan housewife who chanels friends from a previous life...it gets even weirder, but just click on the link...) and understanding that we are all actually vibrational magnets on different planes of consciousness, I've come to see verbal communication as slightly primitive. Because sometimes I will think of someone and they will call, or I will need some money and it will come and I never verbalized my needs to anyone! I have also found that sometimes when people are really close, like couples who have been married for thirty years, they actually CAN read each other's minds (I guess my shrink hasn't experienced that) and they don't have to send any weird scary e-mails. However, because I'm not that connected with any living thing (except maybe one of my plants and my downstairs neighbors abusive boyfriend who really connects with my crankiness, because those are the exact moments that he will begin his yelling marathon with his girlfriend...which he always wins)...

...Because I have not yet developed a deep meaningful mutual connection with anyone, I have to, for the time being...

...ASK FOR MY NEEDS TO BE MET!

(I am very proud of myself).

Just for today, I CAN HAVE NEEDS!

I spent yesterday with the Relatively Happily Married Couple (relative only because they have two kids under two) who live down the street. They love me because I play with their kids and they can do things like drink coffee and clean up day old burritos from plastic pails...Anyway, I was telling my friend Montana about my new relationship when her husband walked in and cut to the chase with, "So, how is the sex?!" Before I could answer Montana embarked on her journey into her sexuality as a married woman and how certain things have gotten stretched out. It only took a few minutes for her to pull out her neon vibrator and asked Jack (her husband) in a dead serious tone, "Does this go all the way up me?" Jack thought about it and answered yes, like he was saying yes to salmon for dinner.

Just for today, I can appreciate the lack of sexual hang-ups of my Happily Married Couple Friends.

When I said that "the greatest form of service from one human being to another (hmmm...I just noticed that already this sentence makes no sense...) is the capacity to look another human being in the eye and see NO HUMAN FRAILTIES..." I MEANT that when we look at people and see weakness we project that quality onto them and reinforce that part of them. But when we see them as strong, capable, forces of nature and are like "you don't need my help" or "get out of my face with your self-pity cuz you know you secretly rock," then we reinforce their strength and power. Because by and large (in my wealth of experience in the land of dysfunction) few humans give each other enough credit. And that's because we don't believe in ourselves. So, if you keep feeling sorry for your depressed grandmother, or alcoholic building manager, or whoever, you're holding them in that place, and keeping yourself down as well. So, THAT'S WHAT I MEANT (which is not to say that other forms of service don't help as well, but this is just MY OPINION of the greatest form of human service...)!

Just for today, I can shoot for greater clarity in my writing.

What I Believe In
The healing potential of unconditional love, boundaries, hydrogen peroxide, the Muppets, the smell of clean laundry, the inherent goodness of Pete's Coffee, bright colors, the power of vision, that the greatest form of service from one human being to another is the capacity to look another human in the eye and see NO HUMAN FRAILTIES,...

What I Don't Believe In
Death, fear, vegetarianism (for me...for me, okay?), the belief that God is accessible only through a "spiritual practice," regrets, the existence of evil...

Who I Trust
My Persian Eyebrow Lady

Who I Don't Trust
People who teach classes on "creativity," or "breathing" in Los Angeles, "healers," my Persian Eyebrow Lady when she's telling me I need a facial (she also gives facials)...(there's more, trust me...)

What I Don't Understand
Why (some) people think humans are bad for eating animals, but tigers aren't bad for eating other animals...

Why coffee is bad for me...

There are so many Mirandas in this society (the redhead from Sex and the City who typifies the angry, bitter, hurt woman who has no faith in relationships and, yet, simultaneously kicks ass in her career - LOVE HER!), that it's hard to find women who will support me in my relationship instead of fanning the flame of Creepy Cat Lady Fear. However, my friend Mary, who has has been married for thirty years, has five kids and has had reams of therapy (because it comes in reams), told me today that I am just scared to "give it up.." (um, give what up?) and that "there are no guarantees..." (what?! after 30 years there are no guarantees?!) and how she always feels resistance when she's about to walk through the fear to "get to the next level" with her husband (after 30 years there are still other levels?!).

Mary doesn't see relationships as a place of perfection, but a journey of continual growth. WHY?! Because she's not Miranda, she's a character that never made it to Sex and the City because the SHOW ENDED once all the ladies got into commited relationships! I know I am fortunate to have this fountain of wisdom (my friend) at my place of employment, but sometimes talking to he makes me worried that the fear and confusion WILL NEVER END (because that's exactly what she says)!

Just for today, I will trust the words of the non-Mirandas in my life.

There's just no way I can compete. She's an attractive woman who listens to everything he says without having a freakout, or if she does, she will work it out and deal with it on her own because she is being PAID TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP! HE never has to see her breakdown and cry when she feels abandoned, or get angry he says the "wrong" thing (and all people say the "wrong" thing at some point in non-paid relationships), or get cranky because she's tired from listening to everyone's drama. So, of course she's awesome and it's all legit because everyone needs a shrink.

Maybe I'm being a BRAT, because I have ISSUES and FEARS or maybe it feels a little sketchy because if I'm with someone more than one hour a week, I can't not be human and fallible. Of course she's going to seem more attractive and understanding...

Just for today, I can think that therapists are raising the bar too high for regular relationships.

Deep down inside, I think, I'm a Hippy.

However, my friend Marco says that I can't be a Hippy because I'm phobic about dirt and obsessed with cleaning (he's seen me spray Windex in my face - accidentally - on more than one occasion, so he knows about this problem I have with compulsively cleaning things). So, I guess the only way I could ever be a real hippy (as defined by Marco) is if I have have a full-time maid to preserve the illusion that my existence and actions don't have consequences on the environment (i.e., dirty dishes, dust, etc.), which, while cool, doesn't really go with the Hippy vibe.

In truth (because I try to be truthful), a lot of people (all caucasians) that I have met who dress like they live on a $5 clothing budget and speak in a relaxed montone, actually have giant trust funds. Which not only makes me question the whole hippy movement in general (doesn't it cost money to chill out?) but begs the question, what constitutes a hippy? For me, it's about a strong peronal belief realness, freedom, love, and a deep acceptance of my humanity...which, FOR ME, just happens to include a need to control my environment with mops and sponges and Comet (due to emotional truama experienced in childhood by Clean Hippy parents).

Just for today, I can be a Clean Hippy.

While I have no problem sharing my innermost feelings with total strangers who stumble upon my site looking for information about sinus cures or the location of the nearest Loman's, I am surprisingly withdrawn and in hiding when it comes to relationships. Whoever I'm with has to pull information out of me with pliers that I would otherwise spew like a geyser all over my blog. While John Grey (Men are From Mars...blah, blah, blah) says that men go into their caves and women go into...I don't know...a nail salon...I'm not sure (that guy is such a sexist idiot), I feel that if anyone is in a cave it's me. Because I think, for me, sadness and loneliness is a place I go into to be by myself and get some privacy. I once read someone say that it's like touching the bottom of a pool because it's all upward motion afterwards. But the problem is that I can't check into cave land as easily if I'm in a relationship . Growing up, I think I identified with more with my father, because up until a year ago I thought that women who went around whining about wanting marriage and kids (read my April blogs) were CRAZY, INSANE, and BORDERLINE PATHETIC. But having repressed my natural need for a committed relations with a soul mate (ideally, "The One") and procreation, this past year it started to spring out of me like the aliens sprung out of everyone except Sigourney Weaver (until second or third sequel). So now I have to come out of hiding...otherwise, what is the point of having a conversation with anyone, period?

Just for today, I can come out of hiding.

While I try very hard to be super-fabulous super-conscious, recovered woman, I actually have many inner-people who need to be loved and honored just as much. My inner child is another, but she gets therapy once a week and lots of Boba coffee sugar bombshells, so she pretty much leaves me alone. However, there is also Inner-Hippy-Earthy-White-Chick who loves to tell anyone she meets about my urinary tract infections, IBS, and other internal physical processes (I'll try to contain her for the sake of this blog). I have repressed her for a long time because I was afraid if I let her out she would dirty up my apartment and stop shaving my armpits. But now I realize that she's cool, she just wants to hang out by the beach and stare at the waves every once in a while. Then there is my Inner-Big-Black-Woman who I repress cuz I'm afraid she might get me fired. But now I realize that she just wants to set boundaries with people who want to take advantage of my Inner-Child's and Inner-Hippy-Chick's cluessness.

Just for today, I can love all the people inside of me.

I have to go the doctor's office to discuss problems relating to sexual activity and that area of my body where my uterus and bladder meets everything else (please note: while in anatomy class it - organs and stuff like that - all looks neatly laid out like a map, it's actually smooshed together like…I don't know…laundry?) Anyway, the point is that I have to discuss, without irony, the details of my sex life (yes, amazingly, I have one) with an Adult Male (who I'm not having sex with) without wilting in shame [please note: I'm writing about this on a public web site not because I'm cool and "whatever" about broadcasting my personal life to the world, but because sans Sex and the City (God bless that show) I don't read bout this stuff much in Protestant America.}

Talking to a male doctor about my "sex life," well, there are only two places for me to go: Father Figure or Predatorial Male. I could possibly get to Concerned Male Authority Figure…but getting to a Sex and the City Hey-it's-no-big-deal place…well, that's just not going to happen.

My heart goes out to women living in patriarchal societies all over the world and throughout history.

Just for today, I can go to the doctor without shame.

I'm getting triggered by The Guy's (the person I'm dating's) triggers. And then my triggers re-trigger his triggers and it's a big trigger show down into the depths of miscommunciation and family of origin hell. I know I have no choice but to walk this path or else resign myself to the solitary comforts of staring at the hypnotic motion of my ceiling fan while contemplating the best way to clean the mildew in my bathroom and to fulfill my dream of participating in a marathon singalong of "Jesus Christ Superstar." I've also conteplated the positive side of becoming Creepy Cat Lady, but decided that there aren't any...

Just for today, it's OK to get triggered by somebody else's triggers.

There is something about a party where the majority of guests consist of people from 12-step programs that makes for odd slightly un-party-like conversations. While people at "regular" (non-recovery) parties may start conversations with things like, "Hey, how are you? I'm great! Been working a lot, but I'm going to Maui in August, can't wait...," at 12-step parties you might hear:

"Hey! I'm sorry, I forgot your name. My short-term memory is shot because I have a neurotransmitter deficiency that I'm taking anti-psychotics for...but I remember your face!"

"Do you mind if I take a second to share? The site of people eating cheesecake is bringing up a lot of feelings for me..."

"I just wanted to compliment your wonderful warm energy..."

"Let me just get one of those barbecued corn and then I'll tell you about the healing session between me and my brother...would you like some more vege caserole and another O'Doul's?"

...news, weather, sports...not happening.

Just for today, I can party with people in recovery!

I told my friend the other day that I could probably sleep 30 Ugandan children in my apartment and, while crowded, they would probably have much more fun than I have ever had on any given night flipping through cable. It was then that I knew I need to stop living in my fortress and come out of hiding.

Some people hide behind careers, relationships, marriages, and lists of errands . I hide out literally. And I do this by spending all my time in an apartment of which no other living person has a key (more on that later). Right when I had the Ugandan epiphany, I also realized that I wasn't keeping any dangerous people out, but locking the real crazy in.

So...amazingly, I'm starting a relationship (I think..pretty sure) and for the first time in my life I refuse to approach it with fear and skepticism, like another battle in the gender wars, but with courage and defenselessness. Which, for me, is like deciding to talk backwards all day ("you..are...how"). Not to sound like the voice over of the last scene of a Hollywood cheezefest (does The Notebook appeal to anyone), but it takes more courage to believe in love (boy, that DOES sound cheezy!), than to do other things, like, scuba dive with sharks, or jump out of airplanes, or start wars with countries for no apparent reason, or write blogs, or check my e-mail for the eight millionth time that day.

Just for today, I can have courage.