Duh?? But I thought...
I think it's hard when someone longs deeply to do something...because they are so afraid of it. But maybe, the fear involved, is the very reason they should not do it. I have figured out that this is the reason that I am not content being single. I've always held the idea of marriage in my mind as a refuge for all of the uncertainty of being single. Sorry for breaking the rule of "enjoying" being single...but it's true.
In the very back of my Bible I have a note that reads:
"The intensity of my desire to be married has been fueled by a profound fear that I'd never succeed at it."
Yes, this is quoted...actually written in the back of my Bible. No one else said it (on the radio, or anything). This is literally a major answer to prayer that I was prompted with one day, and I was convicted that I needed to write it down. It's dated February 10, 2008. Do I want to be motivated by a spirit of fear? Absolutely not. But I must be honest, and forgive me in advance if this becomes too intense. The more time that goes on, the more the fear that I will never get married seems to choke me. Then I feel doubly bad because apparently, I'm not handling this like an adult.
The truth is, I am a child of divorce who is scared out of her mind that I've been disqualified from being married at all because of things that she's already been through. On top of that, I tend to have a bad temper and a lot of difficulty making transitions. Gee, the groundwork for staying single permanently seems to be laid, doesn't it?
I hate those parts of me. My bad temper. My trouble making transitions. My pessimism, and my tendency to assume the worst. Awful. That's not how I see myself in my head, ya know? In my head, I want to overcome all my laziness and help anybody I can. I want to be self-controlled and have things be decent and in order. Temperate. Mellow. Somebody who knows God is in control, and she models that...rather than being moody and panicked. I've heard it all. I know it always comes when you're not looking for it. I know God is in control. I know he knows what he's doing. I know he knows exactly what I can handle. I know I can't rush it. I know singleness is a gift. I know there are a lot of lonely married people. I know marriage is not a fix-all. I know married people have problems too.
Okay, so now that it has been established that I'm such a "know it all"... (sorry) :) I'm going to be a know it all just a little bit longer, and then I'll stop.
I know I need to keep busy. I know I need to GET busy and serve people. I know I can't look for anybody to complete me. I know the divorce rate is alarmingly high, and I know I don't want to become another statistic. I also know that I romanticize way too much and this doesn't help. I know that I'm living in a culture that does not encourage marriage anymore because too many of them fail. I've been told countless times that I'm just better off not being married. It's easier, and anyway, it's not worth it to get married because it probably won't last. All of this just breaks my heart. The truth is, that I do have a terrible sense of incompleteness (even with God in my life) that I know marriage will not fix. I'm embarrassed to talk about that because I don't have the life experience to understand that marriage won't fix that. I know I don't want to find this out the hard way. But then I'm left suspended in mid air, between a rock and a hard place, having no clue what to do.
I end up beating myself up because I can't seem to learn that God is enough, and I need to trust Him. Why can't I understand this? Why don't I get it? I feel like I'm in a world where practically everything is something I'm not allowed to do, and I'm supposed to be happy about that because it's so much easier than trying to make a life with someone. Maybe so...but something is definitely wrong, and I need to know what it is. Maybe I really do think that I am less of a person because I'm not joined in marriage to someone. How could I ever admit this without feeling like the dumbest Christian who ever lived, because I should know better?
I hate the fact that I feel unqualified to handle God's most sacred covenant. This is heartbreaking to me! I don't like it at all. If I spend everyday feeling like I can't be who God made me to be...how am I supposed to be assured that I'm not less of a person? Apparently, this IS who God made me to be...single. But it's miserable. It's lonely. It's incomplete...I'm sorry, but it is! Yes, I know, there are a lot of lonely married people out there too right? So does that disqualify me from even saying anything about it? I'm just trying to figure out where the screw up came in. Something is wrong. I just wanna know what it is. Is that all that life is...just being thankful that things are (just) horrible and not MISERABLE too?
I know a lot of successfully married people. I want so badly to understand what makes them so...but none of them seem to want to encourage me that I could ever have the same thing. What is wrong with me? What do you guys know that I don't? (a lot, I'm sure!). If marriage is that miserable, why'd you guys do it then? Seriously...these are things I want to ask someone.
In the end, I just need to keep trusting God. This is true. I'm not stupid. I know marriage is hard and it will never complete me. NEVER will I run out & just marry anyone because I just don't wanna be single anymore. I have too much pride in the person God has made me to be. Am I scared to get married? Yes! Of course! I don't think I'd be human if I were not. All I can say is...I need to (at the right time) conquer this fear. A fear that I must get honest about, but I shouldn't even be operating out of...so, what do do with that?? Anyway, we're all damaged (not perfect, I mean). I think the deception comes when we (I) believe that I am more damaged than most. My goal now, is going to be to humble myself & not be so full of conceit.
Showing posts with label Loneliness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Loneliness. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Lectured...
Duh?? But I thought...
My step dad used to lecture me incessantly. He made me nervous...what else can I say? Very rarely, would he ever speak to me. Instead, it was always AT me. I remember...his vehicle (whichever one he had at the time) would pull in the driveway, and everyone in the house had to quickly look like they were doing something...because if not, we were lectured on the ills of having done nothing all day. Usually, we were only relaxing because it was evening, and we were tired because we'd been busy all day...but that made no difference. I remember him making me look up the words "Independence" and "Systematic" in the dictionary because he'd decided that I wasn't good at either one one of these things...and it was time I learned what they were. I was only 11.
He was an artist. When he married my mother, our garage became his (sort of) studio. One afternoon while I was washing dishes (a MUST as a daily chore), I suddenly heard him out there cussing. I thought I heard him drop something, and I wondered if he hurt himself. When he came in the house, I made the mistake of asking him if anything was wrong. It was a mistake because he became really nasty with me. He demanded to know why I would assume anything was wrong...and didn't I know what I was doing when I ASSUME things? Apparently, I was making an ASS out of both him and myself (ME).
He stood in the kitchen and lectured me; warning me I needed to mind my own business. I stood there mortified, with a squished dish rag in one hand and a wet glass in the other as he went and got a pad of paper and...wrote the word ASSUME on it in all caps. I figured out that he was still showing me what I had done wrong...but. WHAT was that exactly? I had't even gotten to tell him that I just wanted to make sure he was okay. He wouldn't let me! He asked me if I knew what I had done...telling me to LOOK at the word on the paper. I stared at it hard; but had NO idea what he meant. (For goodness sakes, I was only a kid!)
Many a discussion with him suddenly and unexpectedly turned into a noisy torrent of words that just made me wish I could dissolve onto the floor into a puddle. Then I wouldn't have to hear anymore. His words hurt. Sometimes, I felt like he was literally hitting me on the head with a hammer. I wanted to scream: STOP!!! But then, I'd never hear the end of THAT. My only option was to stand there and allow him to "teach" me what I'd done wrong. I had done nothing wrong. So why did my "parent" (figure) suddenly seem so determined to "break" me? I remember one night, he came in the door from work, and mom and I were relaxing on the sofa. The armchair in the corner was piled with clean laundry...which he suddenly began throwing at us. Here it came...the lecture...and all the humiliation that came with it. Why were we so lazy and why hadn't we done anything all day. (??)
This is not about laundry, dishes, or looking up words in the dictionary. And that is exactly my point. These things are not important. So why did I need to build an imaginary wall around myself? I didn't want to; but so often, perpetual "bullets" would fly. Why did he get SO MAD...SO EASILY?? I drove myself crazy trying to answer this question. I decided (at some point) that I would not love him; I didn't want to be close to him...and I would NEVER be like him...EVER. I learned quickly to keep as close as possible to my mother, and do everything I could to rise above, what I deemed was, his own stupidity.
If he lectured me or called me any names, I'd pretend I was holding a giant mirror in between us. That way, he'd be staring in that mirror and treating HIMSELF like dirt kicked under somebody's shoe. He wasn't talking that way to ME!
I think there's a lot of truth in the way I sheltered myself. As badly as he treated me at times...he must've felt a hundred times worse about himself. In order to "dump" all that on someone else, a person has to have all that going on inside of them...yeah? The problem was that my "empathy" Became less and less. Oh, don 't misunderstand me: His treatment of me and refusal to ever acknowledge it was NOT my fault. The thing was...the less empathy I allowed myself to have for him...the angrier I became. The angrier I became, the more isolated I was...even though I poured myself into so many other things, like my friend's at school, my homework, and the support group I attended. I knew nothing at that time about AS or Autism...I just knew that I had a step dad who would get mad at me and ask me if I wanted to be dumb all my life. Looking back...I wonder if he was actually petrified because he thought that I believed HE was dumb. Poor guy. Yeah...I said that...poor guy.
People only wound someone else when they are wounded themselves. As an adult, now determined to move on with my life...I need to remember this. Back then, the one thing we had in common that smothered everything else, was our wounded spirits...mine because he was wounding it...and his because of years of experiences (most of which I will never know about) that I as a child, should never have been expected to grasp. I now know, that we really did have so much more in common with each other than that; but his need to hold me down, and my need to be left alone suffocated everything. I had not planed to write this...but I think I needed to because here it is...what can I say?
Anyway...he died a few years back. He'd had mounting health issues, and we'd been silently preparing (or knowing we needed to) for a long time. I'd spent the first night in the first place I had all to myself. I was still in bed that morning, boxes stacked everywhere, when my phone rang. I didn't answer it. I was exhausted and I let it ring. About an hour later, it rang again, and I was up then. It was my mother, telling me that he had passed away the night before. I was numb...but it was a displaced, well-we-knew-this-was-coming kind of numb. I hadn't allowed myself to "feel" towards him for so long, that it was hard now. I was sad, of course, but I immediately went down the road of well-at-least-he's-not-suffering-anymore. I know now, that I was only continuing to do what I'd always done: I held myself together because I'd learned for so long that around him...it was not safe to fall apart. At his funeral, the dam broke (as it were), and I cried like a baby...sobbed on my mother's shoulder. I don't think anybody expected this... certainly not me! It's not that I was DETERMINED to keep it out...I just didn't even realize that I felt that bad...that I was hurting that much...that I missed him...that I loved him.
The feelings that I had wanted to express to the man that I came to know as a parent when he was alive...had to wait until he had died to show themselves. I guess in his world, vulnerability was not accepted...so try as he might...he couldn't take it from anyone else. This is my theory, anyway. I know now, that I had convinced myself for so long that I had never needed him...that I would not let myself know that really did need him.
I needed him. I loved him.
I'm still not used to saying this at all...because I'm still waiting for the "lecture.". Now...I'm scared to death of someday marrying somebody just like him. But this is a tragic statement... One that I do not want to become my mantra! This is why...as long as I've been single...the idea of marriage has never left my mind. But determining who I will never be like is pitiful grounds on which to build God's most sacred institution. So I'm now attempting to do what I could not... and then WOULD not allow myself to do. I know I need to let myself love the man that I was so determined I hated...only to protect myself. Hard as this might be...I really believe I need to open these "floodgates"...either that, or stay bound to trying to keep them locked up. Who needs that?!! I don't want my heart to stay a place where vulnerability isn't allowed to flow freely. I need to do this for ME...not anyone else; and for so long, this had never occurred to me.
So now, I want to take memories...experiences...things from back somewhere in my mind that don't involve a feeling of "drop.". I want to invite these things in, and start allowing myself to embrace all the things good, about a man that I learned to look at as a threat. Children should never have to learn to defend themselves from those who are supposed to make them feel cared for and safe; nor should adults, for that matter. But so often, this is what happens, and as a result, so many believe that marriage isn't even worth it anymore. How sad is that? No, marriage is not a requirement to be a great person...I just Want to make sure that I don't forfeit my future because I can't face my past.
PS...I know I have not said his name once here. It was Daniel.
My step dad used to lecture me incessantly. He made me nervous...what else can I say? Very rarely, would he ever speak to me. Instead, it was always AT me. I remember...his vehicle (whichever one he had at the time) would pull in the driveway, and everyone in the house had to quickly look like they were doing something...because if not, we were lectured on the ills of having done nothing all day. Usually, we were only relaxing because it was evening, and we were tired because we'd been busy all day...but that made no difference. I remember him making me look up the words "Independence" and "Systematic" in the dictionary because he'd decided that I wasn't good at either one one of these things...and it was time I learned what they were. I was only 11.
He was an artist. When he married my mother, our garage became his (sort of) studio. One afternoon while I was washing dishes (a MUST as a daily chore), I suddenly heard him out there cussing. I thought I heard him drop something, and I wondered if he hurt himself. When he came in the house, I made the mistake of asking him if anything was wrong. It was a mistake because he became really nasty with me. He demanded to know why I would assume anything was wrong...and didn't I know what I was doing when I ASSUME things? Apparently, I was making an ASS out of both him and myself (ME).
He stood in the kitchen and lectured me; warning me I needed to mind my own business. I stood there mortified, with a squished dish rag in one hand and a wet glass in the other as he went and got a pad of paper and...wrote the word ASSUME on it in all caps. I figured out that he was still showing me what I had done wrong...but. WHAT was that exactly? I had't even gotten to tell him that I just wanted to make sure he was okay. He wouldn't let me! He asked me if I knew what I had done...telling me to LOOK at the word on the paper. I stared at it hard; but had NO idea what he meant. (For goodness sakes, I was only a kid!)
Many a discussion with him suddenly and unexpectedly turned into a noisy torrent of words that just made me wish I could dissolve onto the floor into a puddle. Then I wouldn't have to hear anymore. His words hurt. Sometimes, I felt like he was literally hitting me on the head with a hammer. I wanted to scream: STOP!!! But then, I'd never hear the end of THAT. My only option was to stand there and allow him to "teach" me what I'd done wrong. I had done nothing wrong. So why did my "parent" (figure) suddenly seem so determined to "break" me? I remember one night, he came in the door from work, and mom and I were relaxing on the sofa. The armchair in the corner was piled with clean laundry...which he suddenly began throwing at us. Here it came...the lecture...and all the humiliation that came with it. Why were we so lazy and why hadn't we done anything all day. (??)
This is not about laundry, dishes, or looking up words in the dictionary. And that is exactly my point. These things are not important. So why did I need to build an imaginary wall around myself? I didn't want to; but so often, perpetual "bullets" would fly. Why did he get SO MAD...SO EASILY?? I drove myself crazy trying to answer this question. I decided (at some point) that I would not love him; I didn't want to be close to him...and I would NEVER be like him...EVER. I learned quickly to keep as close as possible to my mother, and do everything I could to rise above, what I deemed was, his own stupidity.
If he lectured me or called me any names, I'd pretend I was holding a giant mirror in between us. That way, he'd be staring in that mirror and treating HIMSELF like dirt kicked under somebody's shoe. He wasn't talking that way to ME!
I think there's a lot of truth in the way I sheltered myself. As badly as he treated me at times...he must've felt a hundred times worse about himself. In order to "dump" all that on someone else, a person has to have all that going on inside of them...yeah? The problem was that my "empathy" Became less and less. Oh, don 't misunderstand me: His treatment of me and refusal to ever acknowledge it was NOT my fault. The thing was...the less empathy I allowed myself to have for him...the angrier I became. The angrier I became, the more isolated I was...even though I poured myself into so many other things, like my friend's at school, my homework, and the support group I attended. I knew nothing at that time about AS or Autism...I just knew that I had a step dad who would get mad at me and ask me if I wanted to be dumb all my life. Looking back...I wonder if he was actually petrified because he thought that I believed HE was dumb. Poor guy. Yeah...I said that...poor guy.
People only wound someone else when they are wounded themselves. As an adult, now determined to move on with my life...I need to remember this. Back then, the one thing we had in common that smothered everything else, was our wounded spirits...mine because he was wounding it...and his because of years of experiences (most of which I will never know about) that I as a child, should never have been expected to grasp. I now know, that we really did have so much more in common with each other than that; but his need to hold me down, and my need to be left alone suffocated everything. I had not planed to write this...but I think I needed to because here it is...what can I say?
Anyway...he died a few years back. He'd had mounting health issues, and we'd been silently preparing (or knowing we needed to) for a long time. I'd spent the first night in the first place I had all to myself. I was still in bed that morning, boxes stacked everywhere, when my phone rang. I didn't answer it. I was exhausted and I let it ring. About an hour later, it rang again, and I was up then. It was my mother, telling me that he had passed away the night before. I was numb...but it was a displaced, well-we-knew-this-was-coming kind of numb. I hadn't allowed myself to "feel" towards him for so long, that it was hard now. I was sad, of course, but I immediately went down the road of well-at-least-he's-not-suffering-anymore. I know now, that I was only continuing to do what I'd always done: I held myself together because I'd learned for so long that around him...it was not safe to fall apart. At his funeral, the dam broke (as it were), and I cried like a baby...sobbed on my mother's shoulder. I don't think anybody expected this... certainly not me! It's not that I was DETERMINED to keep it out...I just didn't even realize that I felt that bad...that I was hurting that much...that I missed him...that I loved him.
The feelings that I had wanted to express to the man that I came to know as a parent when he was alive...had to wait until he had died to show themselves. I guess in his world, vulnerability was not accepted...so try as he might...he couldn't take it from anyone else. This is my theory, anyway. I know now, that I had convinced myself for so long that I had never needed him...that I would not let myself know that really did need him.
I needed him. I loved him.
I'm still not used to saying this at all...because I'm still waiting for the "lecture.". Now...I'm scared to death of someday marrying somebody just like him. But this is a tragic statement... One that I do not want to become my mantra! This is why...as long as I've been single...the idea of marriage has never left my mind. But determining who I will never be like is pitiful grounds on which to build God's most sacred institution. So I'm now attempting to do what I could not... and then WOULD not allow myself to do. I know I need to let myself love the man that I was so determined I hated...only to protect myself. Hard as this might be...I really believe I need to open these "floodgates"...either that, or stay bound to trying to keep them locked up. Who needs that?!! I don't want my heart to stay a place where vulnerability isn't allowed to flow freely. I need to do this for ME...not anyone else; and for so long, this had never occurred to me.
So now, I want to take memories...experiences...things from back somewhere in my mind that don't involve a feeling of "drop.". I want to invite these things in, and start allowing myself to embrace all the things good, about a man that I learned to look at as a threat. Children should never have to learn to defend themselves from those who are supposed to make them feel cared for and safe; nor should adults, for that matter. But so often, this is what happens, and as a result, so many believe that marriage isn't even worth it anymore. How sad is that? No, marriage is not a requirement to be a great person...I just Want to make sure that I don't forfeit my future because I can't face my past.
PS...I know I have not said his name once here. It was Daniel.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Noise
Duh?? But I thought... My family always seems to be in perfect sync with each other when when they talk. They speak in sync with each other and it doesn't matter what else is going on,...they always know what the other one is saying. But I'm the one who does not get heard. I try to join in conversations like those around me, and I'm ignored. I have to say things 3 to 5 times before they are even heard. I begin a sentence and I'm completely cut off. I sit between my family, trying to literally be in the middle of what's going on. It never ceases to amaze me, because my family will talk AROUND me and OVER me to each other, but I get cut off, and am not heard. I try to explain my position, and just sound completely ridiculous because the only problem seems to be that I am just too sensitive(maybe...but I can't help it.). I end up sitting on the sofa, just looking at my IPad, and grinding my teeth because I want to be heard, but I can't. When I raise my voice, I seem to just disrupt the flow of everything. My family is in sync with each other, and then they look at me like; "What's your problem?"
Most of the time, I don't really know how to get excited about the stuff my family goes on about. I find that I usually have to hear a conversation about three times before I can really respond to it the way I want. The first time, would simply be to take it all in, and make sure I understand what it's about! The second time would be to pick through and find the parts that best relate to me, and that I'm interested in. The third time would be to put together something thoughtful in response that I really want to say. However, this "process" is not real life. I only get one shot, and I'm dealing with switching subjects and sarcasm, and loud voices and jokes, and whatever is on TV. And that's another thing: Why does everybody always wait until I'm trying to watch TV to talk about everything under the sun?? I'll be watching a program that I've been waiting to watch ALL DAY, and THEN my family will start talking back and forth to each other, across the living room and the kitchen.
It is at this time that I officially become the "bad sport" because I literally become a spoiled sport. I have to get as close to the TV as possible, so I can try to hear what's going on. If ever I ask that others hush so that I can hear what's going on, I can tell that they don't get what my problem is. Then they feel nervous, like they can't say anything. (No... Just quiet down so I can hear!). The other thing I never understand is that supposedly, my family wanted to watch the same show too. But then they talk through it...loudly, and usually about things that have NOTHING to do with what's on TV.
Well...I can't hear. I can't concentrate. I can't enjoy the show because all the noise just gets mixed together and I can't process what's going on. But the worst is yet to be told :). At any given point somebody will suddenly go "So what happened?". I don't know...because I'm finding out what's happening at the same time they are...and I'm now being interrupted by someone asking me to explain what's going on! This just distracts me even further! So then, that person goes: "Well, you've been watching it, haven't you?". Strange. At the risk of just being a selfish brat: Umm, doesn't anyone else get that maybe if they would shut the hell up, I would KNOW what was going on?? Doesn't anyone else get that they said THEY wanted to watch this too...and now they're just being rude?? Doesn't anyone else see me sitting as close to the TV as possible so I can hear?? Doesn't anyone else hear me trying to " break into" this conversation so that I don't just sit there with a bad attitude all night? Doesn't anyone else get that I'm just trying to "join" what's going on, so that I don't give others the feeling that I'm being rude to them?? No. They don't even notice.
But if I get Mad, and I tell them how I feel, and I let them know that I'm mad...now I'm the one who's being rude to THEM... I'm the one with the bad attitude (they think)...I'm the one with the problem. It's ridiculous! And people wonder why those with autism are not very sociable! One minute people feel the need to remind me that I need to say something when something is wrong. The next minute, I'm trying to say that something is wrong, and I feel like I have to scream to do it because nobody hears me, and then people don't want to talk to me because they don't know what my problem is. Such is life, in an Autistic's world, I think. They say, don't sweat the small stuff. What if all you have is "the small stuff"? Amazing, when all you want to do us live your life, and others won't let you and then they think (I'm) the one with the problem. I know this is the kind of stuff that we are supposed to just laugh off...but I don't think it's funny, myself. If this were a Dear Abbey letter...I would sign it, "Frustrated."
Most of the time, I don't really know how to get excited about the stuff my family goes on about. I find that I usually have to hear a conversation about three times before I can really respond to it the way I want. The first time, would simply be to take it all in, and make sure I understand what it's about! The second time would be to pick through and find the parts that best relate to me, and that I'm interested in. The third time would be to put together something thoughtful in response that I really want to say. However, this "process" is not real life. I only get one shot, and I'm dealing with switching subjects and sarcasm, and loud voices and jokes, and whatever is on TV. And that's another thing: Why does everybody always wait until I'm trying to watch TV to talk about everything under the sun?? I'll be watching a program that I've been waiting to watch ALL DAY, and THEN my family will start talking back and forth to each other, across the living room and the kitchen.
It is at this time that I officially become the "bad sport" because I literally become a spoiled sport. I have to get as close to the TV as possible, so I can try to hear what's going on. If ever I ask that others hush so that I can hear what's going on, I can tell that they don't get what my problem is. Then they feel nervous, like they can't say anything. (No... Just quiet down so I can hear!). The other thing I never understand is that supposedly, my family wanted to watch the same show too. But then they talk through it...loudly, and usually about things that have NOTHING to do with what's on TV.
Well...I can't hear. I can't concentrate. I can't enjoy the show because all the noise just gets mixed together and I can't process what's going on. But the worst is yet to be told :). At any given point somebody will suddenly go "So what happened?". I don't know...because I'm finding out what's happening at the same time they are...and I'm now being interrupted by someone asking me to explain what's going on! This just distracts me even further! So then, that person goes: "Well, you've been watching it, haven't you?". Strange. At the risk of just being a selfish brat: Umm, doesn't anyone else get that maybe if they would shut the hell up, I would KNOW what was going on?? Doesn't anyone else get that they said THEY wanted to watch this too...and now they're just being rude?? Doesn't anyone else see me sitting as close to the TV as possible so I can hear?? Doesn't anyone else hear me trying to " break into" this conversation so that I don't just sit there with a bad attitude all night? Doesn't anyone else get that I'm just trying to "join" what's going on, so that I don't give others the feeling that I'm being rude to them?? No. They don't even notice.
But if I get Mad, and I tell them how I feel, and I let them know that I'm mad...now I'm the one who's being rude to THEM... I'm the one with the bad attitude (they think)...I'm the one with the problem. It's ridiculous! And people wonder why those with autism are not very sociable! One minute people feel the need to remind me that I need to say something when something is wrong. The next minute, I'm trying to say that something is wrong, and I feel like I have to scream to do it because nobody hears me, and then people don't want to talk to me because they don't know what my problem is. Such is life, in an Autistic's world, I think. They say, don't sweat the small stuff. What if all you have is "the small stuff"? Amazing, when all you want to do us live your life, and others won't let you and then they think (I'm) the one with the problem. I know this is the kind of stuff that we are supposed to just laugh off...but I don't think it's funny, myself. If this were a Dear Abbey letter...I would sign it, "Frustrated."
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