Tuesday, March 31, 2009

How was the event, Ayelet?

I got an email from the grateful event organizer:

Thank you so much for coming last night and doing a demonstration. The event was very successful and I heard a lot of positive feedback about the class. I hope that you will be willing to do it again in the future.

I'm glad he heard positive feedback, because the evening was very stressful for me. Not because I'm afraid of public speaking. At least, I never have been before. After last night, I might spontaneously develop that phobia. Why? Here's my response:

To be honest, I would only be willing to do this again if the event were much better organized. I don't understand why there were no signs on the doors indicating what activity would take place within. It was very demoralizing to have numerous people peek in, ask what the activity was, and then leave.

It was also extremely distracting to have people coming in and out to get drinks and shmooze while I was trying to talk -- to say nothing of the chazzarim who HAD to hit the dessert buffet before 8:30, also very distracting. I absolutely refuse to present again in a room with refreshments.

Finally, I felt that I was misrepresented in the publicity materials. Maybe I didn't make my self-description clear enough, but I'm not a fully licensed acupuncturist. I'm a certified detox acupuncturist and a substance abuse therapist with two master's degrees (I should have given you my full signature so you could have put that on the publicity materials). The protocol I'm trained in does promote better sleep and mood, but I had a ton of people asking me about their backs, knees, etc., and several of them left when they learned that wasn't what the talk was about.

Sorry to be so negative, but it was a very stressful experience for me. And while I'm happy to share whatever knowlege I have, I'm not comfortable explaining over and over about whatever knowledge I lack. Nor am I willing to try to talk over other people who are too inconsiderate, unmannerly, or greedy to limit their own conversation and consumption in a room where someone is trying to talk.

I think that was reasonably polite. The only good thing about the event was that I felt justified in saving the money I'd have spent on a manicure and a blowout, because the demographic of the event was old and older. Not a candidate in the bunch.

But -- I think it was good for me to go through with this commitment when I didn't feel like it. The group I covered went okay -- I had to remind a bunch of them to put away their cell phones, but they're generally the most resistent clients, so I kind of expected that. And forcing myself to do things I don't want to is good practice, because this morning Dr. R and I agreed that after Pesach, I'm going to exercise 10 minutes every day, either walking or dancing. Starting with an achievable goal, and we'll see where it takes me.

Dr. R is actually in the process of applying for the insurance I have. It might take a while, but it might be possible to back-bill -- or at least I'll get reimbursement after coverage starts. I'm also going to see him a little less frequently. After Pesach, I'll see if that means I should start psychotherapy again.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Monday, March 30, 2009

Now he's just messing with me

Why else would TD visit my profile days after his final email, which was so nasty and hostile? He really thinks I'm just a piece of meat.

At least that's how it feels. I'm not having a great morning. I'm supposed to demonstrate acupuncture at a singles event tonight, and I feel enormous. I'm also back to horribly anxious after a weekend stuffing my face with those frosted cookies -- I think it's time to admit I have a problem. I'm seeing Dr. R tomorrow and I don't know what he'll say about my insurance situation.

Also, one of my slippery clients is playing games with his attendance, which I can't stand, and the one who asked me out wore a shirt and tie to see his individual counselor. I assumed he had a job interview and told him, "Lookin' good!" According to his counselor, no job interview -- he's just "changing up his style." Or as his counselor put it, "He's still trying for Ayelet."

Of course, I'm wearing a tight red top with matching red nails and headband. For the singles event! Why can't Jewish guys like me as much as my clients?

I also promised to cover another counselor's group tonight -- thank Gd we have a DVD to watch. I don't know how I'm going to get through this day.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Sunday, March 29, 2009

More fan mail

I should either be showering, getting my nails done, or getting my hair blown out. But all of that would require a lot more effort than answering more fan mail. Granted, it's from the same fan, Marissa, but I'd still rather answer it than do what I should be doing.

I would still be grateful for more details about the initial diagnosis. Fair disclosure: The person in my family does not acknowledge her illness, although she's received the same diagnosis multiple times--but only when forced into treatment. She is not able, as you are, to deal with it and blames her employment problems, failed marriage,lack of close relationships, etc., on everyone else. I suppose I'm hoping to get some insight into why you've been able to accept and therefore "fight" with the disease, and why she can't.

I think I always felt something was wrong with me, from a very young age. I felt unhappier than everyone else, more volatile. While most adolescents feel this way, it's not normal in a young child. When I was driving in the car with my mother, I'd see another car coming our way and I'd want it to hit us instead of passing us. So I was depressed as a child, depressed as an adolescent, and clinically depressed to the point of nonfunctioning as an adult.

I never thought I was "normal," so finding out that I had an illness wasn't hard to accept. It was an explanation for what I'd always felt but had no name for. It was a relief.

Your cousin's personality disorder traits are likely what prevent her from accepting this or any diagnosis. People with personality disorders will never believe that they are the problem -- it's always somebody or something else. My boss says that all personality disorders are essentially narcissistic in origin.

There's nothing wrong with me -- everyone is against me, says Paranoid Personality Disorder.

There's nothing wrong with me -- people don't know how to keep a house clean and organized, or do their job right, says Obsessive-Compulsive PD.

There's nothing wrong with me -- people just don't appreciate or understand or love me enough, say Narcissistic and Borderline PD.

One criterion for a diagnosis of personality disorder is pervasive difficulty functioning across all realms -- work/school, family, community, etc. Disorders like bipolar and even schizophrenia are cyclical -- they come and go. There are periods of more or less normal functioning. But people with personality disorders are constantly impaired.

I also didn't realize that bipolar II sufferers can be thrown into a manic state by anti-depressants. Wow - it's such a fine line between medicine that helps and medicine that wreaks havoc.

So true. And we haven't even mentioned side effects. I still believe that the anti-depressant that worked best for me was Effexor -- but it gave me nightmares. I had anxiety dreams every night. Twice, over the course of several months, I spent the night in a room with my mother. Both nights I woke her up because I was crying in my sleep. So I don't take Effexor anymore.

I am curious - were there signs of your disease when you were younger? The little knowledge I think I've gleaned from reading suggests that people with bi-polar i or ii can start showing signs at an early age, at least of "mercurial" moods (as Kay Jamison Redfield stated multiple times). I know you felt "uncool" in high school -- do you think that was just high school, or do you think it was a brain thing as well?

See above. I think I was depressed as a child. My mother reports that I'd come home from school and slam doors. I didn't like my first grade teacher -- I corrected her spelling once, and she was a bitch to me for the rest of the year. This was after experiencing a serious trauma in kindergarten, which I won't go into but from which probably stems a good deal of my illness. Children often express depression as anger more than sadness.

Just in more reflections, I think your last two entries are good examples of what I see as your heightened coping skills. The Dirty Black Hat guy was inappropriate so you said "Eeeyach" and ended your association with him - but you didn't take HIS inappropriateness as having anything to do with you. There are lots of weird men in the world -- you've encountered plenty, but their weirdness has *nothing* to do with you. The question is whether you walk away or not. So this time you just walked away and said "what a creep." Similarly, you gave of yourself in a meaningful way with the baby this morning -- I wish I had the energy and skills for that.

Well, shucks, thanks. If I really had energy, I'd get my darn hair done ;) The skills -- I think anyone could do it with practice, and I hope I'll get better at it. She and I were both kind of wiped out after less than two hours. I've never been so glad I work with adult substance abusers, and I have a whole new respect for people who work with kids.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"


I thought, if I got up early and did a good deed, the rest of my day would be equally productive. So at 9 a.m. I reported for duty as an early childhood intervener. A couple in my community have a one-year-old daughter with Down's Syndrome, and they ask for volunteers to engage in early intervention enriching play with her.

Enriching play basically involves a lot of repetition. "See the dolly? You like the dolly? Where's the dolly's hair? Show me the dolly's hair! You like her shoes! She has nice shoes! Where's the dolly's hair?" After she gets tired of the dolly, which is roughly 4.3 minutes after you are really sick of the dolly, you move on to flash cards, baby books, puppets, etc. I love babies, but I've never been so glad I work with adults. Being with a baby has never been so exhausting, mentally.

I had also planned to get a haircut and a manicure. But first I'd need to shower, because I wanted to get my hair blown out and I don't want to get it wet after that. And somehow I can't seem to get myself motivated. Maybe because it's raining.

I just feel so blah. Not really depressed, but at the same time, I feel like I need to be reading or talking on the phone or watching TV on the computer. I need distraction from my thoughts -- I think that's why I don't want to get in the shower. Because I don't have any waterproof books.

I'm not even sure what the thoughts are that I need to be distracted from. That's how intently I'm avoiding them. And I'm even more tapped out mentally from my morning enrichment activities. I'll probably forgo the haircut and manicure -- even though I'm going to a singles event tomorrow evening and I need to look my best.

I think I'll just sleep in curlers. Because I will take a shower before the day is over.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Weird phone call

Yeshivish Black Hat is really not living up to his name. He called last Monday to say that he wouldn't have time to take me out on a proper date. I work late Tuesday and Thursday, and he was busy Wednesday.

"Don't I get points for being considerate?" he asked.

"Sure," I said.

"Maybe I should come over and just hang out with you right now," he said.


Seriously -- does this guy think he's going to get into my apartment and my pants (if I wore pants, I'd probably have less trouble in anger management group) without even taking me out to dinner?

I can't remember exactly what I said, but apparently I conveyed indignation, so he spent some time backpedaling -- never intended anything improper, had the highest respect for me, only wanted to get to know me as a person, yada yada yada. I should have hung up the phone; I don't know why I didn't.

"Let's change the subject," he said.

"Good idea," I sniffed.

"So... do you have any friends in the food business?" he asked.

Confused, I said, "Uh, no... why do you ask?"

"I'm in a lot of businesses," he said. "This is networking."

I thought it was dating. Another Frumster treasure. I think I'm going to screen his calls.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Friday, March 27, 2009

Fan mail

I got a really nice email recently from a woman I'll call Marissa. My mood was first too anxious and then too depressed to reply when it landed, but I'm feeling more or less back to normal -- just mildly dysphoric -- so I'm going to tackle it now.

Hi Ayelet, First of all, thank you for your blog. I recently started reading it and have now made my way through all of the archives.

How cool is that! I wish all my readers were that thorough.

I have learned a tremendous amount and feel like I now have some insight into what life is like for a relative of mine who has the same diagnosis (she also was diagnosed with histrionic personality traits, in addition to narcissistic personality traits). I am grateful to you for your openness and hope that it has helped you, and others.

I'm not free of narcissistic personality traits, by any means, and I'm pretty sure I'm at least a little histrionic. I'm glad I've helped you understand a little bit about the strange, distorted, painful world we inhabit. Writing the blog has helped me because I can vent about my feelings, and it's also helped my friends understand and support me better.

I don't know if this is at all appropriate, but I had a few questions and would be most grateful if you were willing to address them either on the blog or in an email. (You've been very open, but I understand if you find this invasive, if you're not interested in thinking about these things, or any other of the myriad reasons you might have for not wanting to take the time to answer me -- and if I am asking inappropriate things, I apologize in advance.)

If you've read my entire blog, Marissa, you've heard about the men I've dated and you know I have a pretty high tolerance for inappropriate. In all seriousness, I'm always glad to use my illness to educate the public, so there's very little I would find too invasive. Remember, my clients have seen my thong and looked up my skirt during group.

I'm trying to wring something positive out of the pain I've gone through. If you were to ask anything invasive, I'd let you know I can't respond to it. Your approach has been supremely sensitive, so I know you mean me no harm.

1) I am very curious about how you came to be diagnosed: I would be grateful to read about when was it and what led up to it, and what the process was like for you? I'm particularly curious how long it took you to "embrace" the label -- it seems that many people close to you didn't necessarily encourage you to be open about it. Did you feel shame and bafflement? Did you deny it? How did you come to work through all of this?

I was diagnosed with depression in college, briefly medicated, went off medication, and was re-diagnosed and re-medicated at age 25. It was a very bad episode of clinical depression -- I went down to about 99 pounds, which meant you could see my collarbones through my clothing. I was put on Prozac, the first and strongest (and probably crudest) of the SSRIs. That propelled me into hypomania, and my doctor put me on Depakote but didn't tell me what was happening to me. I didn't like the Depakote -- it's a mood stabilizer, which I don't think I was told at the time. It made me sleepy, so I stopped taking it.

Then one day I went to the emergency room because I was breathing funny, and in the course of taking a history, the interns determined I was hypomanic and showed me the diagnosis for type II bipolar disorder in the pocket-size DSM. The diagnosis came as a relief. I knew I had a problem with depression -- pretty much all my life I've been moody. I didn't understand the hypomania, even when it was happening to me.

Amazingly, I didn't fire my psychiatrist (or my horrendous psychologist) immediately. But I understood more of what he was trying to do to help me. Unfortunately, he's not very good at his job. He kept putting me on and taking me off different medications, until finally nothing was working and I overdosed. That got me the help I really needed.

2) I wondered if perhaps in the last few months you have chosen to avoid writing about certain things or were feeling differently? In prior months, the blog seemed to give unfiltered access to your pain, anger and frustration at the difficulties you face. For whatever reason, in the last few months, you seem to be handling your life with even more grace -- you're speaking to your sister (and you didn't write about what effected that reconciliation), you seem to be bouncing back emotionally more quickly from the vagaries of dating, and you generally seem to have a greater store of flexibility (whether it's for being people annoying or ignorant or for something going wrong). Certainly, you're to be praised for this - but I wondered if something changed (the dating coach, maybe? A change in meds? A new insight you gained?).

It's funny how people view your life so differently from the way you see it yourself. I thought I was just as pained, angry, resentful, and frustrated as ever, and you see me as responding with more grace, resilience and strength. Thank you.

One factor, I'm sure, is that I love my job. The beginning of my blog details my nightmarish experience in a doctoral clinical psychology program at The Bad Place, where they abused and devalued me. That was absolutely horrific. I'm sure they took years off my life with all the stress and grief they caused me. Then I was enrolled in a great clinical social work program, but still suffered a lot of ups and downs with the administration, so I still struggled.

I was lucky enough to find my job within a month of graduation. I really love what I do, I like my supervisor and most of my co-workers, and I love my clients. They are hilarious, usually unintentionally, sometimes maddening, sometimes frustrating, but in general a really interesting bunch of people who give me tons of validation.

So I'm happier in general, because my job is going well. Work is a big part of our lives, and for the first 10 years I was out of college, I drifted from job to job, not knowing what I was supposed to be doing, outgrowing jobs and stagnating. I was miserable. Figuring out what I wanted to do and going to grad school helped tremendously, but actually doing what I want to do is fantastic.

As far as my sister goes -- what can I do but forgive her, when she and her children need me so much after the divorce? It's a basic principle of cognitive-behavioral therapy that you can't change people and you can't always get them to give you what you want; if you're a good behaviorist, you can, but I'm not at that level yet. All I can do is accept Jerusha as what Albert Ellis would call "a fallible, fucked-up human being." (He loved to curse. Thought it shocked and disarmed people, which caused more of a therapeutic impact.)

3) Finally, you've mentioned Kay Redfield Jamison's wonderful book on a number of occasions; I also really enjoyed it and gained what I hope is not too small an amount of understanding (I do think that, however much I try, I cannot understand fully just how much-as you wrote-"dancing backwards in high heels" is required to live life fully while coping with various disorders). I was wondering what your thoughts were on her strong opinion that she disclose her illness to the clinicians with whom she works so that they can be a check on her if she were to go into a manic or depressive episode. My impression from your blog is that your supervisors and colleagues do not know about your medical condition. Am I right, and do you think, ideally, that they ought to know?

Kay Redfield Jamison is at a point in her career where she can afford to disclose to her co-workers. She has tenure, she has stature in the field. She also has type I bipolar disorder, which is much more severe than my illness. If I got very sick and couldn't cope with my job, I would tell my supervisor. Until that point, I don't think I need to.

I really appreciate you taking the time to read my e-mail and would obviously be grateful if you were able to answer me, either in an e-mail or on your blog. And I certainly understand if you'd prefer not to. And, again, I apologize if my questions are inappropriate (or, Gd forbid, hurtful - as I wrote, I am grateful to you for your openness with your struggle and the last thing I mean to do is to be insulting or insensitive).

Marissa, I really appreciate you telling me that you found my blog helpful -- and providing me with such an amazing view of the recent change in my outlook and behavior. Nothing you asked was inappropriate or hurtful. Your relative is lucky to have a person like you in her life.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Thursday, March 26, 2009

I'm too sexy for my skirt, too sexy for my skirt...

One of my anger management group participants asked if he could talk to me after group tonight. It had been a rather raucous discussion, so I was wondering if he felt I was having trouble controlling the fellas. We went into my office and sat down.

"Miss Ayelet," he said, "you know I like your group, and I respect you as a counselor. You have a great personality, and you're just a wonderful woman."

Please don't ask me out, I thought.

"Some of the other guys were talking about you after group last week in a way I didn't like," he continued, "and I wanted to let you know. You sometimes wear your skirts a little short, and sometimes, when you don't sit with your knees together... well, the guys say they can see up your skirt."


I mean, it's better than him asking me out, but how embarrassing is that? My clients are looking up my skirt? I thought wearing a short skirt would be harmless secondary gain, but not if it makes the clients lose respect for me.

It's funny -- I don't really see my clients as men. Most of them are male, but I don't view them as sexual objects. Clearly the feeling's not mutual. I forget that they see me as a woman -- and I need to wear longer skirts to anger management.

I thanked the client for letting me know, and he promptly asked if he could take me out to dinner after he was done with group. I let him down easy, walked him to the reception area, and saw Clarice. Something in my expression must have told her I needed to talk. We went into her office, and after about 5 minutes, she stopped laughing and asked if I was okay.

I think I am. As Clarice helpfully pointed out, a bunch of other clients have seen my thong. I should start a reality show called "The Naked Therapist."
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Not anxious, not depressed, not really happy either

It was hard getting up and going this morning, but I'm not feeling as anxious or depressed as I have been this past 2 weeks. I did call my insurance company and learned there are no out-of-network benefits, whether psychiatric or any other specialty. Still not sure what I'm going to do about that.

One of my Facebook friends (male) sent me this after reading about TD:

that guy is def a jerk for making such comments!

animals r naturally scared off by humans. Imagine how much we would suffer if dangerous animals were ATTRACTED to us. don't feel bad when u chased someone away even if its a single member of the opposite gender. You are prob. better off without that person in ur life if that's what happened. U want mr right and not mr wrong. so if for whatever reason someone leaves ur inner circle it is a sign that he didn't belong there.

If u think he was cute, take his pic and hang it up on ur wall. if he was nice than he must have been sent to make life easier while waiting for mr right to come along. Waiting rooms always have some sort of entertainment to keep ppl occupied.

Another Facebook friend tried to help me learn from the experience.

Ayelet: I can't believe how rude that guy was
FF: Yes, but... That does not put you 100% in the clear on this one. The last girl I dated was manipulative and selfish, but that does not mean my actions were always appropriate either.

Ayelet: what did I do wrong?
FF: You need to learn fromyour mistakes, not just ignore them because the guy's an ass..

Ayelet: that's what I'm trying to do
FF: So he's just looks based, now you know... lots of people are, and if you can't accept someone like that, then don't... But it is not just him, or even just men...

Ayelet: He already knew me and knew what I looked like. He was just messing with my mind.
FF: If you did not work out in the past, you should have waited for more than some note on Frumster to get back into it. No, he asked for new pictures, which is shallow, but predictable..

Ayelet: you're right, but what he said was still really nasty -- and wrong, I hope
FF: Relationships seldom go backwards... It was, but had you done things right, you'd never have gotten that far. If you give them enough rope, most people are assholes and will hang themselves.

Ayelet: that's harsh, I don't think most ppl are assholes
FF: especially if you are looking for them to

Ayelet: don't even think most men are. I wasn't looking for him to.
FF: part of you seems to have been

Ayelet: I was looking for him to step up, and I shouldn't have expected him to.

I don't know what made me think he'd be interested after he dumped me by email -- after I'd poured out my heart to him, and he appeared to pour out his to me. I guess the long and short of it is that I overreacted and he's a jerk.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

So that's why alcoholics drink

The anxiety is gone. In its place is depression. Not total despair, but it's difficult to get up, get dressed, go to work, etc. Once I'm at work, I find I can function surprisingly well. One of my clients paid me a very high compliment today: "I don't know why it's so much easier to talk to you than to my parole officer." Five years of grad school, I guess.

After work I went to a "Ladies' Night In" to celebrate Rosh Chodesh, had a few glasses of wine, shed a few tears, and felt a whole lot better. Amazingly better. Better enough to share a very painful exchange I had on Frumster. I had noticed that TD (Travelin' Dad, who dumped me by email -- remember him?) has been checking my profile on Frumster. My membership has run out. So I sent him an icebreaker (which is free).

Ayelet: I don't have a list of good IceBreakers to choose from since I am a basic member. Respond if you're interested & I will show you my true wit.

He wrote back, so I re-upped to read what he said. I'm going to reproduce the rest of our correspondence.

TD: Hi how are you doing?

Ayelet: Very well, thanks. How are you?

No response. I should have let it go, but apparently I can't.

Ayelet: I thought I'd hear more from you -- since you've been visiting my profile....

TD: Do you have some updated pictures?

Ayelet: More recent than my profile pics? Those are from New Year's. So you were just visiting to see how I look in red? I thought you were going to beg my forgiveness and ask me out again ;)

TD: Yes most recent pictures. Sorry about that.

Ayelet: So all you wanted were pictures of me? Mind if I ask why?

TD: I wanted to see what you looked like today that's all

This is where I should have left it, but I couldn't.

Ayelet: So all that stuff about you being too busy to date because you're focused on establishing your drug treatment facility -- was a lie. I would have preferred you were honest with me.

TD: Nothing was a lie. It was the truth. The last month or so i have started dating again. I was honest with you.

Ayelet: But you're not interested in dating me, just looking at my photos. I should never have re-upped my membership.

TD: I never said i was not interested in dating you? Did i tell you to renew your membership? I just asked you for current pictures that was all.

Ayelet: Now I'm confused. No, you didn't tell me to renew my membership, but I assumed you were visiting my profile because you were interested in. I suppose I shouldn't have assumed and then I wouldn't have gotten hurt.

TD: Correct i did not tell you to renew your membership. Never assume in life..... How did you get hurt? i just asked you for a current picture of you then depending on what i saw i was going to let you know if i was interested in you again that is all.

Ayelet: You were going to decide based on my current photo whether you wanted to go out with me again? You're right. I should only assume that guys like you are jerks.

TD: You see your problem in your life is you are very bitter person. I am the opposite of you a very positive person. I will not stoop as low as you did because I am an honest gentleman not like you who is full of drama and a made up imagination Good Luck To You. No wonder you cant find anybody to date. Its because of your attitude. Sorry to say....

That hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks, and it's been hurting me all day. Am I really a bitter person who goes around creating drama and scaring off eligible men? Or is he really a jerk? I know I'm better off without him -- maybe I'm better off without Frumster altogether. And I know having a few glasses of wine every night isn't an option.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Monday, March 23, 2009


While doing my taxes, I noticed that I hadn't received any reimbursement for my psychiatrist visits, even though I remembered submitting the receipts. I called today (among other things, I'm still being billed for the time I was hit by a car) and learned that there's no out-of-network coverage for behavioral health. Maybe for all health, I'm not sure.

So I'm in a bind. Do I stop seeing a psychiatrist I've been seeing for more than 5 years, who knows me well and has managed me up to this point? I'm too stunned to think. Gd knows how I'll get through the rest of the day. Hope my clients feel like talking, because I want to curl into a ball and go to sleep. In fact, I slept most of the weekend. But I can't do that all week. I'm just stunned. I don't know what to do.

At least I don't feel like eating. For once.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Sunday, March 22, 2009

The upside of anxiety.

Not all anxieties are created equal. A few years ago, depressed anxiety made me gain 20 pounds by eating every Entenmann's donut I could get my hands on. This time around, though, I'm not eating like a maniac. In fact, I usually don't feel like eating -- only when I feel very hungry or dizzy.

I'm still very uncomfortable -- facilitating groups is pure hell, because I've only got about 15% of my brain function; the rest is ruminating frantically. So it's hard to follow everything everyone says and formulate coherent responses. My clients are sharp; you can't phone this job in.

Apparently, however, there's the tiniest of silver linings, because I'm losing weight. Only 1.5 pounds so far, but every bit helps. (Also helps that my local grocery store has stopped selling Lofthouse cookies, but even if they had them, I don't think I'd eat an entire box at a sitting.)

I finished my taxes this morning, e-filed, and then pretty much slept the rest of the day. I'm trying not to drink coffee because of the anxiety -- I assume it could only make things worse -- and in my overheated apartment, there's not much else to do but play on the computer, read, or sleep. At work I drink one cup of green tea every day -- no more.

I did talk on the phone with Yeshivish Black Hat. Remember him? We spoke about 2.5 months ago, back when I was trying to play strictly by The Rules and driving men off even more efficiently than I usually do. I saw him on Frumster and sent him an IM (I re-joined to read a message someone sent me, and shouldn't have bothered). He responded with surprise: hadn't thought I was interested. I told him I'd been playing hard to get, and apparently succeeded. So he called, and we're supposedly going out sometime this week.

For the record, I see LL online all the time on Frumster. Not a word. No idea what I did wrong. Never should have bought him that CD.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Spring fever

That's how I'm trying to reframe the horrible anxiety I've been feeling these past few days. I have no apparent reason to be anxious, and yet I'm a mess. My thoughts jump around in my head like a mountain goat on crack. My heart pounds. I have trouble concentrating and doing routine paperwork.

Fortunately, most of my individual sessions are going smoothly. Since listening is about 95% of what I do anyway, I guess I can fake it. Somehow I'm building rapport with several clients who don't want to be in treatment -- they're all court-mandated. Group was arduous but bearable on Tuesday; hopefully it will go well tomorrow.

I have to thank Dov and Tovah. Not just for davening for me -- but for giving up thousands of frequent flyer miles so I can visit them over Pesach. In Israel. I have other friends who live there, whom I can't wait to see.

I should be more excited. Right now I'm still kind of a mess. I hope I'm in shape to enjoy the trip. I still have to call around and get invitations for the first days.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Frum, has a brain, seems nice, not morbidly obese

The cookies with frosting are starting to show up around my face and chin, but I had a lunch invitation from Ozer. I needed to get out of the house, and I was determined to act hot. Apparently confidence in yourself will take you pretty far, and a red dress with matching red fishnet stockings will bring you the rest of the way.

"You look hot, Ayelet!" said Aunt Raizy when I walked into Ozer's apartment. She's not my aunt -- she's Baruch and Elimelech's aunt, Shuli's sister. In town on business; her husband was holding down the fort at home, and she was staying with Shuli & Co.

"Thanks, Raiz," I said, smiling at Baruch, who apparently like all other males finds women in red alluring and was grinning at me. Or maybe I reminded him of Elmo, which apparently is one of his words, along with "Ma-ma," "up," "Leh-li" (for Elimelech) and "Da-da." I keep repeating "A - ye - let," but it hasn't taken yet.

Elimelech was playing an elaborate game with Ozer's roommate Jefferson (weird name for a Jew, don't you think?), who's a child psychologist. In fact, there was another family with young children at the meal; Jefferson was totally in his element, and I thanked my lucky stars that I work with adult substance abusers.

It was a nice meal. I got to hold Baruch for most of it, feeding him little bits of food and keeping my jewelry out of his reach. He's beyond the stage of putting everything in his mouth, so he's allowed to pull my hair. Elimelech sat next to me, mainly focused on his mom (he's so Oedipal these days, even Freud would say, "What the --?") but occasionally talking to me.

Also there was a guy named Yves. French Moroccan. Involved in some kind of VoIP business (I know what that stands for but not how it works) that has taken him to the Congo and other exotic locales. I thought he smiled at me when he came in, but he wasn't overly receptive, although he responded politely to my questions about Jewish life in France and laughed at one of my jokes.

Yves said that Ozer's home-made crusty bread was unlike anything he'd seen in America. "It's like it's French, or Sephardic -- I can't tell which," he said in his dreamy accent.

"Which is better?" I said innocently. People laughed. But then Yves spent most of the meal talking to Ozer and a few other guys. We weren't even formally introduced.

Of course, I was a few people down and across the table from Yves, and I was pretty focused on interacting with the baby. It's been a few weeks since I've seen Baruch, and I want to be sure we don't go through a period of alienation the way I did with Elimelech, who had really bad stranger anxiety and wouldn't let me touch him for a few years. Baruch reached for Shuli when I was first holding him, which broke my heart into a million little pieces. Fortunately, I later put him next to the sofa and stepped back, expecting him to furniture-walk along it, and instead he sat down and crawled to me. I love that baby. Have I mentioned that?

So I walked home with Shuli & Co., and happened to mention that Yves seemed nice.

"The guy with the big velvet yarmulke?" said Shuli. "I didn't think he was your type."

"Of course he's my type," I said. "He's frum, has a brain, seems nice, and isn't morbidly obese. You know what? That's my type!"

"Don't sell yourself short, Ayelet," said Shuli.

"I'm not," I said. "I just don't understand how people can reject other people just because of 'NML'."

"NML?" asked Raizy.

"Not My Look," I said. "Men invoke it more than women do, but women do too. Sure, I have a type. You know who's really my type? Jefferson. Short and compact, not scrawny. But he's had plenty of opportunities to ask me out -- I've needled him twice -- but he hasn't, so I can't pine for him. At this point, I'm trying to be as flexible as I can while my eggs are still potentially viable."

I guess I'll email Ozer and ask if Yves is dating anybody. Ozer says he wants to write a dating advice book -- he's a big fan of "How to Talk to Girls." But I think he should take a more active role and set people up. He's a natural busybody, and he loves gossip. He always says he just wants people to meet spontaneously at his meals and events, but maybe I'll plant the seed that sometimes people need a little push more than a little advice.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Friday, March 13, 2009

Why do some married women think they know EVERYTHING?

I don't know why I accepted her as a FB friend. I never liked her in person. But I did, and now the Relationship Maven (RM) knows too much about my life. She reads and comments on my status updates, and she sends me snotty little know-it-all emails disguised as caring.

How was your Purim?

she wrote.


I responded. (That was being generous.) After defining "meh" for her -- she doesn't watch "The Simpsons" -- I stated that my whole social life is "meh" right now.

ah, you cant let the jerks get to you, or theyve won

she commented sagely. Duh. I don't know why I bothered, but I wrote back:

he's not a jerk -- that's the problem. He just doesn't know what he wants out of life.

Mistake. Now she's intrigued.

commitaphobia or peter pan syndrome

Sigh. RM clearly has no idea what jockitch is all about. What does Ayelet do? Does Ayelet ignore the annoying would-be know-it-all? No, Ayelet tries to enlighten her.

you're trying to reduce a very complicated person to a cliché. he was railroaded young into a very bad marriage, kind of had a bunch of kids when his wife wanted them (without really being consulted), was divorced by her unexpectedly, doesn't want any more kids, and is also not sure whether he wants to keep his job in the family business but doesn't know what else he might want to do. He's living one day at a time. I need to plan for my future. It can't work.

You'd think that would shut her up, but noooooooooo......

Wow, thats some package.. I never met you personally, but from what I do know of you, I feel that you really deserve better.

Why do you need to be part of a soap opera. I find it hard to believe that there isnt a nice normal menshlic, guy out there. Maybe he doesnt look like Brad Pitt (ok Im showing my age), and maybe he isnt a very affluent professional, or the life of the party. Just a decent honest guy who will be good to you.

She really knows how to state the obvious. Of course I deserve better, and of course my standards aren't as ridiculous as she paints them.

So of course I try to explain....

I'm not looking for a rich Brad Pitt charmer. But I have to be able to talk to the guy and enjoy his company. I don't know why there's so much drama in my life. I really don't try to attract it. It just happens. This year alone a married guy fell in love with me, and then I met the guy I described to you. There are no normal, single guys who want me. I don't know why that is.

(I took down all the posts about the married guy, but loyal readers will remember that little dramafest.)

You lead a interesting life..:) How did you meet the married guy. Did you know he was married from the beginning or he deceived you. Where did you meet the other guy.

Its been my experience, that if friends introduce you, or you go to 'wholesome' singles events that are on the up and up, statistically there are better odds of meeting normal decent guys. No guarantees they wont be jerks or that there will be chemistry, but at least you wont have all the Drama.

Gee, why didn't I think of asking my friends to set me up? Why -- I believe I did!!!!! But I'm still nice...

It's like the Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times."

I met the married guy on Facebook. He was an old high school acquaintance -- actually he knew my sister and I knew his, he sent me an email, I responded... and it got totally out of hand. Things are fine now, it's an appropriate friendship, but it was really annoying that a guy who couldn't marry me fell completely in love with me, and available guys don't.

I met the other guy on Facebook too. And honestly, I go to all the "wholesome" singles events and ask friends to set me up. Nothing happens.

Does RM have an answer for that? Of course she does.

This may be reaching a bit, but is it possible that you are very desirable, but also somewhat intimidating. Hence, married guys have much less fear of rejection

Gevalt. Of course it's my fault.

Maybe. I'm very intimidating, I know that for sure. But I don't know how to turn it off.

How can I be anyone I'm not?

Off hand, Id recomend seeing a counselor. Often, in the Jewish Press, there are ads in the singles section for workshops where men and women get together and learn new approches to socializing.

I haven't responded to that because I'm too exasperated with RM at this point. I can't tell if she has a point or if she's just got her head up her tuchus. Who goes to the Jewish Press for anything but restaurant addresses?
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Thursday, March 12, 2009

What a difference a day makes

My period started today, and it's like all the crazy just flowed out of me along with the lining of my barren uterus. I feel happier and calmer, and nothing's essentially different. Jockitch still doesn't want to marry me, and my job is still stressful.

It's funny, too, though, which is why I keep it. In anger management tonight I basically sat back and let the participants debate the merits of telling some guy in the subway to stop telling a nice lady that he's going to slap the shit out of her.

See, the pro side opined that it is wrong for men to threaten ladies (not to mention using that kind of language around them), and a man should let them know that. The con side, however, noted that if you decide to lay the guy out with one good punch to the solar plexus, you might catch the attention of some undercover cop standing there pretending to be listening to his iPod. And then you would get arrested, which would definitely set back your treatment at least a few weeks, and your counselor would probably be annoyed.

Fortunately, the undercover identified himself before my client did any punching, and actually, after my client spoke a few choice words, the bully backed down -- even before the undercover flashed his badge. But it led to a very good discussion about the fine line between assertive and aggressive communication styles.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

So maybe I overreacted a little.

"Why did you say I won't take your calls?" asked jockitch.

"Because you were screening," I said. "You never picked up when I called."

"You never left a message!"

"You never picked up!"

"I would have called if you'd left a message!" he said.

Okay. We talked, and I felt a little better. But it's still so painful. He can't change what he is, and I don't think I can or should. So we're at an impasse.

It's ironic. I think one of the main reasons I became religious was that I thought it would be easier for me to get married. Had I known then what I know now, would I have made different decisions? No way to tell.

I used to be in group therapy with an extremely unpleasant woman, Joyce. She was nominally Jewish but not observant. Her husband had committed suicide, which propelled her into the psychiatric ward for a while (understandably). I could not abide Joyce. For someone undergoing CBT, her thinking was extremely rigid. Everything had to be her way, from her point of view, which is just a recipe for frustration and disaster.

At the time I had just met up with an old college friend/boyfriend again. Wonderful guy, brilliant, cute, supportive, yada yada. Not observant. And I was conflicted about getting involved with him. A fling senior year was one thing, but now we were both adults who wanted to get married (not necessarily to each other, but we were ready). Joyce started nagging me that my religious observance was keeping me from happiness, I was being ridiculous, blah blah blah.

"You should go out with him and eat ham!" she concluded.

I wanted to say, "I can see why your husband committed suicide." But I didn't. I transferred groups.

So now I'm sort of in the same boat. A great guy who cares about me and accepts me can't accept the idea of keeping kosher and Shabbos. And doesn't want any more children.

The scary thing is, even if I don't end up with him, there's a good chance I could end up alone and childless. If I compromised, would I ultimately be happier?

I tried doing that with G.I. Josh. We were strictly kosher, but on Shabbat we would watch TV and DVDs. It wasn't horrible. The relationship was bad for other reasons, but I wasn't too uncomfortable watching TV on Shabbat. I still do when I'm severely depressed and can't leave the house.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Desolate, but not really surprised

Is it passive-aggressive of me to complain that jockitch no longer takes my calls, knowing he reads my blog?

I don't know why I'm so disappointed. I should have seen this coming. I did see this coming. It's like I said, "Bring the pain!" and then said, "Ouch."
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Salvation in cookie form

I'll regret it at some point, but I have to say that the fastest way to wrest me out of my funk was the rapid consumption of five sugar cookies with frosting. I'm starting to understand why my clients love crack so much. Drugs must work even faster!

I went to the supermarket at 9:45 p.m. tonight to get the cookies. I made sure I had a nutritious meal and a bunch of tangerines first, so the evening wasn't a total loss. The staff were mopping up the aisles, so it took me a while to find the cookies; they had been moved from their usual spot near the deli to the meat aisle, where I never go because they don't sell any kosher meat. For a moment I almost panicked. I was too embarrassed to ask, "What happened to the good cookies?"

I guess I've successfully driven jockitch off with all this crazy. Which at some point I'll be glad of. Right now, thanks to the cookies, it doesn't hurt so bad.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Blame it on the time change

I am a wreck. Between the fight with Chaya, the self-imposed isolation, and the punishing regret for not forcing myself to go out (there are pictures all over Facebook of the fun I didn't have), I'm wretched. Not to mention the emotional mess jockitch kicked up in me. Can't blame him, he knew from the start what he wanted and what he didn't. It's just not enough. Story of my life.

My article was rejected. After 3 rewrites. I realize that happens, but I'm unhappy nonetheless. I suppose I could rewrite it and submit it elsewhere, but I don't know if I care anymore.

I didn't go into work yesterday because I felt absolutely miserable. I couldn't concentrate, couldn't even get dressed. So I took a mental health day, although I blamed it on the flu. Now I'm coping with a hot mess caused in my absence by my sickest client. Which wouldn't have been as hot or messy if I'd dragged my ass into work yesterday. No one's blaming me, but it's completely my fault. Add guilt to the mix. And hormones. Crazy hormones -- like PMDD.

Last night I thought about cutting my throat. I know, objectively, it would hurt. But in my mind I envision it as blissful relief -- a final exhale, a release of the life I can't stand, and then I won't have to worry about anything ever again.

Of course I'll never do it, if only to spare my parents the agony. Hopefully I'll get my period soon to even out my hormones, get used to the time change, and stabilize somewhat. Funny that I saw Dr. R last week and he thought I was doing well.

Then again, he also thought jockitch had potential. I of all people should know psychiatrists aren't perfect. To be fair, neither are patients, especially those who work with other patients. What on earth made me think I could do this work competently? I'm too weak. I'm too sick. I can't do it.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Monday, March 09, 2009

Crazy idea

Maybe I should go to Israel for Pesach.

Not the Sedarim -- I have to work erev Pesach, so I'd never get there in time. I'll barely make it to Sedarim in NYC on time. But I have the whole next week off. I could fly to Israel on Sunday and fly back the next Sunday. I'd have a week there. It would get me out of myself. And it would get me away from jockitch, for whom I am developing too strong an affection.

I was planning to go to Miami for chol hamoed and last days, but that was before Chaya 1) flaked and said she might be going to Israel, after inviting me to Miami and inducing me to take all that time off, and 2) we got into our stupid fight.

Something to consider. It wouldn't be cheap, but I've got enough in savings to cover airfare, and I'd stay with friends.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Sunday, March 08, 2009

Left out, let down

I made no plans for this weekend -- no Shabbos meals, no parties -- and nobody called me for anything. Actually, Minka called me about a party yesterday, but I didn't want to go. So why was I so offended when Zoya, Chaya, and others went to that same party without calling me?

I have no basis to be angry, but I am. And miserable. I spent the whole weekend alone, which was a mistake. And I don't feel like doing anything for Purim. I'm just completely miserable. I made the stupid mistake of leaving a pissy phone message for Chaya (I've already unFriended snotty too-good-for-AFG Zoya), so she called me back, yelled at me for being impossible, and told me I wasn't her friend anymore.

Last Wednesday I probably stayed up too late doing acupuncture, and drew off too much negative energy. Ever since I've been all out of balance. Could also be the onset of my menses. Or frustration with the blatant favoritism at work. In all, bad week, awful weekend eating too many cookies with sugary frosting.

It's not normal for all that to make me feel a little bit like cutting my throat. I know that.

Jockitch, who had his kids this weekend, said he would call and hasn't. Problem solved -- I don't have to worry about what to do with him, because I've handily driven him away. I can't believe I actually cleaned the blinds because he thought they were dirty.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

"I don't want to hold anyone back"

Last night I could have gone to two parties, and didn't. Partly because I was exhausted from a hard week at work, but mainly because I'm sulking over jockitch.

Dr. R was wrong. There's no hope. Jockitch barely feels like a father to the 4 kids he already has -- he can't possibly stand to have any more. And if he was in long relationships, it was more through inertia than choice.

Jockitch was joking again about not wanting to see "all my boyfriends" at the acupuncture party.

"Maybe I don't want any more boyfriends right now," I said.

"I don't want to hold anyone back," he temporized immediately. There goes that.

He's not looking for anything right now, because he doesn't know what he wants. If he says he wants something and you give it to him, he changes his mind.

For example: I gave jockitch the names and contact info for several therapists, and he hasn't called any of them.

"How often do you see your therapist?" jockitch asked me.

"Usually once a month," I said. "More often when I'm not doing well -- like every 2 or 3 weeks -- but generally once a month."

"How often do you think I would need to go?" he asked.

"I have no idea," I said. "I haven't done a thorough assessment."

"Once a week? Twice a week?" he asked, laughing nervously.

"I'd think more likely once a week to start," I said. "I didn't refer you to any psychoanalysts."

But I don't think he'll make an appointment. And I know he doesn't want a real relationship at this point. I think he justified staying with his ex-girlfriend Melissa because he knew it wouldn't lead anywhere, and in the meantime he didn't have to be alone.

"I thought I'd break up with Melissa at some point," he told me, "I'd get sick of her and tell her to leave. I was surprised when she left. I thought Mrs. Jockitch and I would get divorced at some point, when the kids were older, but I was kind of surprised when she left."

I suppose he expects me to get sick of him at some point and leave. And for my own sake, I probably should, sooner than he expects. It's just hard. I feel so comfortable with him, so accepted. What other guy is going to worry about whether I've taken my medication, rather than worry about the fact that I'm on medication?

So I've been sulking at home all weekend. Didn't go to any parties. The highlight of the weekend was that my local supermarket has started carrying the frosted sugar cookies I loved at my internship.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Friday, March 06, 2009

Not impressed with Amnon

Amnon, aka Mr. Frosting, sent me an email at 6:57 p.m. yesterday:

Hey Ayelet, some of us are getting together in (suburb) for Shabbos, if you are interested in joining please give me a call -- 917-xxx-xxxx.

I wasn't impressed. Granted, Amnon invited me to his friend's Oscar party, but he can't just keep inviting me at the last minute to communal events and expect me to join him. If he's interested, he needs to show it by asking me out on a real date.

Sorry, I have plans. Thanks for asking.

I don't, really, but I'm tired and cranky. I don't feel like shlepping out to the middle of nowhere this weekend. I don't know anyone to stay by in his town. And I want Amnon to fish or cut bait.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Thursday, March 05, 2009

The Dr. R seal of approval

"I think this relationship has potential," said Dr. R after I filled him in on jockitch -- the good, the bad, and the issues.

"You never say anything that direct about anything," I joked. "What makes jockitch different?"

"He has experience with relationships," mused the good doctor. "He has been married before, he had a girlfriend for several months. He likes to be in relationships. He needs your support and attention."

"But he doesn't want to keep kosher," I pointed out.

"He is used to keeping kosher inside the house. Many people are more kosher inside the house than out," Dr. R noted. "Maybe you could compromise."

"True," I said hesitantly. "It's not like I'd ask him every evening when he came home, 'What did you have for lunch?'"

"And he already has children," said Dr. R. "So you would not need to have any."

"But I still want to have a baby," I said. "I'm not ready to give up on that. Even though it's risky, given my illness. But I don't think he wants any more kids. He has four.

"Also, he's only been divorced a year, and who knows if he's ready for a real relationship?" I continued. "He didn't like his girlfriend very much -- or his wife, for that matter. But he kind of went along out of inertia until they left him. That doesn't mean he's ready to commit to a real marriage. I could invest 6 or 9 months and go nowhere."

"That is always a risk with anyone," concluded Dr. R, sounding more like himself. Sigh. I went to work, still a little annoyed about Zoya and AFG.

It was a grueling day. I've been working late hours, trying to process a whole bunch of new intakes. Sometimes I feel like, "Why do all these men come into my office and complain so much?" I don't know if it's compassion fatigue or just fatigue. The latter, I think. My sleep still isn't that great.

I thought I'd feel better if I told jockitch that Dr. R approved of him. Jockitch has been the teensiest bit jealous about the whole acupuncture party thing.

"All your boyfriends are going to be there," he said. "I don't want to go."

"Only one guy's remotely interested in me," I said at the time. He wasn't swayed. So I called jockitch to let him know that not even AFG is remotely interested.

Hard to tell if he was pleased. Jockitch isn't shy about expressing his feelings, but his affect doesn't alter much. I haven't seen him get really angry or really happy. He's very mellow. So when he said he might be too tired to get together tonight, I was kind of annoyed. He didn't seem any more tired than usual.

"When do you think you'll be able to let me know?" I asked, with a touch of sarcasm.

"Call me at the end of your day," he said. Fine, whatever. I did so. He was still tired. "Call me when you get home," he said. Fine, whatever. I did so. He was still tired.

"I don't think I can pick you up, take you out, take you home, and then drive home," he said. "What's the closest subway stop to you?"

"I'm too tired to take the subway," I said, "and you're too tired to drive. I don't think it's going to happen."

"Okay," he said, sounding a little hurt. "We'll call it a night."

Was I being too picky, expecting him to pick me up and take me home? Granted, I don't have a car, but driving can be tiring too, especially if you're already exhausted. I probably don't have a good reason to be annoyed, but I am.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

The blonde thing. Again.

Tonight I needled about 20 people, including Zoya and AFG (who shrieked like a little girl with the first stick). Then Zoya drove me home -- and told me that AFG's been chasing her these past few weeks. I saw that they became Facebook friends and wondered if she was interested. Apparently she isn't, and he is.

This would explain why he's been relatively hands-off with me. It made me feel like warmed-over crap. I'm so sick of men knocking me over to talk to a bleached blonde.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

AFG resurfaces

Jockitch, you might want to skip this post.

So I finally heard from Another Facebook Guy. I knew he was planning to attend tonight's acupuncture party, and today he sent me an email:

Subject: Poking Party ;)

Hi Ayelet, (Letty?)

I am looking forward to tonight. I told two people about it and they were going to rsvp on Facebook, but I don't see them listed so just in case they haven't told you they are: Eric Steinberg (my MJE chavruta) and Alyssa Moscowitz (lives in the Paris). See you later :) AFG

The Paris is Ozer's building, where the acupuncture party is being hosted -- I don't have the room (or the room is too cluttered) to entertain. I knew AFG was planning to attend -- he was one of the first to RSVP to the Facebook invite, and one of the first to post on the Event Wall:

This sound fascinating. Is there forced poking going on or is it all consensual?

That sounds flirtatious! I responded:

No one undergoes acupuncture against their will. You can come and just observe. There will be food and cool people as well as needling.

Playing it cool. He wrote:

Sounds good. What does it feel like? Are you the acupuncturist?

Very sensual. I explained:

I am the acupuncturist. It feels like a pinch or a sting when the point is inserted, but then you shouldn't feel anything but relaxed.

This is all good. Very good. And then he sends me a nice little email to boot. I wrote back:

Hi AFG (It's Ayelet),

Glad you're looking forward and you invited some friends! I look forward to meeting and needling them.

For the record, Amnon also wrote on the wall:

thanks for invite, would love to join, but can't wednesday ... next time :)

Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Resistance is futile

I'm dating jockitch. I can't deny it, and I can't call it anything else.

Is this a good idea? Honestly, I don't know. I feel a lot less lonely. I feel like he understands and appreciates and accepts me. That is so rare in a man who isn't 1) already married to another woman or 2) not Jewish.

It's weird that he reads my blog. (Which also means I have to think really hard before I post anything, part of the reason for the recent several-days' silence.) It is weirder that his ex-wife reads my blog and is rooting for us.

It's disheartening, albeit understandable, that he has four children and doesn't really want any more. (Who could blame him? He has at least one of each; he's fulfilled his halachic mandate.) I'm not ready to give up the dream of having a baby.

It's upsetting that he doesn't want to be shomer mitzvot. It's disturbing that he doesn't know where he wants to live or what he wants to do when he grows up, even though he has a very nice house in one of the more outer boroughs and holds down a responsible job in his family business. And he has other issues going on that I won't describe but that make now a really bad time for him to be in a tachlis relationship.

He's just very up in the air. Ironic, since he loves skydiving.

I'm giving it until Pesach. That's when my friend Dov will make the triple pilgrimage to the kever on my behalf. After that, I'll re-assess. I'm also taking a Frumster break. It's gotten me absolutely nowhere in more than three years. I'm not throwing more good money after bad.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"