I Still Think about Winslow Sometimes....

Things are not always as good or bad as we might think they are going to be.... Winslow never happened. I was never there. But I thought it would be great. In reality? Probably not. But I thought so.... Last Saturday I thought I was going to be single again. And if I was... then damn it! I was going to go to Winslow, finally.

Life.. it's too short to not follow our dreams. My coworker went ballistic in a meeting last week and threatened to shoot us. Life is way too short to not live the life that you dreamed of.

Wow... so I'm taking a good look at my life and realizing that all I've ever wanted, is that which I now have. I'm a lucky gal, and don't need Winslow to make my life complete.

How does this suit you? Dorothy Gale, PhD. ... Dr. Dorothy Gale. Hmmm. I'm not there yet, kits and kittens.... How about Mrs. Dorothy Gale-Othello, PhD? Now that's more like it!

I Don't Want Another Columbine (or VT, or... you name it!)

Bitter Bill at work today, in the middle of a staff meeting... threatened to shoot all of us. He said he was serious. He ranted and raved and then we all spent the day jittery and wondering if he was really going to end us... our manager the Angel Michael, nipped Bitter Bill in the bud, talking with his manager and his manager above him. This started at 10:30 and by 3:00, I was sitting in a room full of HR folk, reiterating the story.

Arrgh.

Significant Digits

Darling Othello is a complete mystery to me. There is a number that occurs over and over in our lives - it's in his email address, on his license plate, and pin codes. I know this number, yet he won't share its significance. All of his friends know this number because it is part of their culture of BMX riding.

If anyone knows why all of the BMX riding guys have the number 43 appear in every facet of their lives... if anyone can please tell me its significance and what it means (instead of, like Othello, smiling and saying "there are no words"...) I would be most grateful.

And plus, Othello told me that I would never find out... so y'all know I'm now out to prove him wrong!

Lucky Thirteen

So what? It's Friday the 13th. Big whoop, right?

My dad never wanted us kids to be superstitious...so he told us that since everyone else was having a bad day.... today was our LUCKY day (all of that bad luck has to balance out somewhere, right?).

I got up today and felt cheery and bright. It's hard to quantify how, other than that I miss my family in all it's idiosyncrasies.

Bashing Stereotypes

Over and over again during the Easter Holiday, I claimed that I was bashing stereotypes of Christians, because I could stand on a mountaintop and be closer to God in my heart, than someone who went to church three times on Resurrection Day.

So I started thinking about other stereotypes that I subscribed to... such as the fact that my extreme distaste for one certain Russian has coloured my view of all Russians. Don't get me wrong - I'm not a bigot. Well wait.. yes I am. That darn man I dated last summer... the one who was like peas and carrots? Based upon a sample of one, I held total disdain for all Russians.

Last month, I met yet another of Othello's long line of exs. She's a good gal and we are becoming fast friends. But we met for coffee. I got to Cicolet & Pain, "Chocolate and Bread" (What can be better?) first and sat at a patio table. Across the deck was the familiar "over-madeup" look of an otherwise gorgeous Ukrainian woman. Instantly I hated her. Then I spilled my coffee right in my lap, because God knows that I respond best to "instant karma". This woman ran over with a handful of napkins, and blotted my coat and pants until I was some semblance of dry.

You know what? I am a total a$$ for hating all Russians for the transgressions of one. And so I continue to bash stereotypes of Christians, by being what I wish all of us were (more accepting like Jesus... )... and now I do it without the 2x4 sticking out of my eye.

Where the Hell has the Time Gone?

Over 3.5 years ago, I wrote at the bottom of this post, that I would wait to be married for 3 years after my divorce.

Where has that time gone? In September, it will be 4 years since Nelson went crazy and we split up..... Sure I've gone and done some good things with my life.... but ... but...

I want to settle down again. Married, house, dog, kid. Man, wouldn't that be the life. It would be like... coming home.

-Dot.

Good ta See ya here, Yah?

Wow... I'm feeling like I'm finally starting to fit in, at grad school. One girl went to Australia for two weeks and missed the beginning of the term. She was so giggly and happy to see me just because I was there!

It is uncommon for me to have people treat me well, just because I am present. At work, like most places, it's a clique. But at school, these are people that I don't even know. And they are happy to know me on the sole principle of being present and accounted for. It's a nice feeling.

Good Friday

I have been longing to feel the way that I used to feel when I knew that we (the royal "we") were doing all that we could to worship and praise and be thankful to God for all that we have and all that we are. Was there ever such a time, at least when I wasn't miserable otherwise?

This morning my friend, who is a Christian Scientist, spoke of his Easter celebrations with family and friends. I felt jealous that he got to celebrate with those whom he loved. I miss celebrating my religious beliefs like that.

Last week I had food poisoning the worst that I've ever had, ever, in my life. It was disgusting and I was at one point sure that I'd die. Somewhere in the fugue of vomit and haze of a sleepless night, delirium took over and I could clearly see a little dorky 4-year old version of Othello, with hair the brightest copper. He looked just like his daddy, with puffy dark circles under his eyes, a sweetheart smile, and a backpack that matches both of ours. My little Hunter, in the Flesh!

Sweet little boy: I can't wait to meet you one day!

Forcing the Issue: My Soliloquy to Survivors

Upon reading this article today, I am reminded of an ugly part of my past. Go on, skim the article... I am not as concerned about the fashion designer, as to what he allegedly did to those women and girls.

It is most upsetting, as a rape survivor, because I hate when people are systematically abused and society keeps letting them off the hook because of who they are... or worse yet... who you are... or the very worst... you are afraid to even speak up because you fear that no one would believe you.

The thing that I didn't know at age 15, was that when someone abuses you in that manner, it is ingrained into the way your mind works. Those are your formative years... the time when you are learning about yourself, the world and your body... you are deciding what you think is sexy, what you think is hot and how you like being treated not only in a dating relationship, but in a physical relationship and ultimately, marriage.

That was more than half my life ago! And yet sometimes I feel the pain like it happened yesterday. After a failed marriage with a man who turned violent... after a failed relationship with someone very controlling... after 6 months of singledom that felt like an eternity... 8 months into one of the first truly healthy relationships I've shared in my life... I'm starting to take the wind out of the sails that haunted me all these years.

No, I'm over being angry. It's just those things that get ingrained. The momentary thought that you'd actually like to be treated violently.... the fleeting recollection of pain mingled with the slightest amount of... what? Pleasure? Surely you jest. But anyone who has been through this knows what I'm talking about.

The longer time it's been since this terrible thing happened, the more I question whether I fought hard enough... should I have told someone? (of course I should have)... and... did I... like it?

I DID NOT LIKE IT. No one would. Yet the battle rages on until the wind dies down and I can hear my tiny voice clearly saying "No."

-Dot.

P.S. Intense therapy and drugs for depression were also needed to quiet my storm. I encourage anyone who's been treated violently, to seek professional help. Every day is a struggle at first, but then we learn to live and ultimately to love (ourselves - loving others is not really the problem).