The Guys I Dated

 

I dated a guy a while ago and wrote a trilogy about him.  It’s entitled “Why I don’t date.”  You can find the first post to it here.

I should come with a warning label for all who date me.

WARNING:  I read into and analyze everything.

Nothing slips by me.

I’m empathetic to a telepathic degree,

and I SEE THROUGH EVERYTHING.  

It’s illegal to remove or tamper with this tag.

The only time I get hurt is when other people’s insecurities seep out and affect me.

I’m going to go deep here, but if you think good and hard, you’ll understand all that I say.

It all comes down to insecurities.  Why do men use women?  Why do they sleep with them and toss them aside?  For one thing.  Validation.  And why do they need validation?  Because they’re insecure.  As long as a person remains insecure, they’re incapable of loving anyone – they can love a pet, or someone they feel comfortable around.  They can love a person they consider to be on or below their “level.”

If they’re attracted to someone who they discretely view as “above (doesn’t need)” them, they’ll cut them down.  Intentionally or unintentionally, it happens.  It happens because they feel threatened.  It’s an innate impulse that both men and women share.

When I was under ayahuasca (I know, blah blah shut up with that already), I seen all this so immaculately clear.  I also understood that as long as you love yourself unconditionally, you will never feel the need for validation.  And when that happens, only then can you love others unconditionally.

But none of us love ourselves unconditionally.  We always doubt.  We always need someone to tell us we’re okay.  We can only love ourselves when others love us first.

And when a person detaches themselves from us we say good riddens.  “I never liked you anyway.”

I’ve been in that bad place where I had no one to tell me that I’m okay.  I been there.  That’s how I know all this!  You can only know the things you’ve experienced.  But you can only wake from it once you’re aware of it – once you understand and actually see it.

The heart always leads you into understanding – don’t let go until you find it.

But then again, once you understand what’s happening, you realize that it has absolutely nothing to do with you.  And in some cases, it’s in fact you who needs and wants validation from a person who needs and wants validation from you.

Us humans make love out to be just another ego game.  We don’t have the capacity understand it.

Sure we can love our kids, but when they start misbehaving, do we retract our love?  Sure we can love our spouse, but do we retract our love when they’re unresponsive?

Love IS understanding.  If people understood each other, there would be no disagreements.  There would be no hate.  My heart is always tugged in the direction of understanding.

But then again, ayahuasca told me to let go and to trust.  That I don’t need to understand.  But how can I grow and evolve if I’m unable to see my own mistakes?

I can’t let go, understand, or see something that I’m emotionally attached to.

But anyways, where was I?  Ah yes.  Insecurities.

I am hurt by other people’s insecurities.  The way they treat and view themselves, is in exact accordance with how they view and treat me.  If you’re unable to understand this, you’ll just have to trust me on it.  I’m a big deep thinker and did all the grunt work for you, but yeah, it’s true.

Trust me.

But the crazy thing is, once you do understand, you can see it in yourself.  How your actions towards others is in exact accordance with how much love and trust you give to yourself.

Everything is relative.  There is only one tree of life, all is dependent (which by the way amazes me and I’ll have to write about that separately).

I’m NOT saying this to make myself sound grand or anything, but I can see everything there is to know about a person.  And I mean everything.  I swear, it’s like I have X-ray goggles or something.  I’m not embellishing.  If anything, I’m watering it down.

I step back, take in the full view, and I empathize.  I empathize while remaining detached.  I believe it’s for this very reason, why people are attracted to me.  And because I remain detached, they look at me as a puzzle to be cracked.

They don’t trust themselves, so they don’t trust me – they don’t trust me because they can’t own me, just like they can’t own themselves.  There’s a certain degree of fear in all my relationships.  I bring out the demons in people.  I swear I see everything.

I wasn’t expecting to write all this.

Initially I wanted to write about the guys I dated.

The guy that triggered my “Why I don’t date” trilogy, he’s been trying to contact me for the past month or two.  My interest in him has plummeted down to zero which leaves me to wonder, am I unforgiving and/or judgmental?

I just don’t give a shit to be honest.  I’m too tired.

But he’s not what brought about this post.  What really brought it on is that Norm, a guy I dated once two years ago (you can read about him here), died yesterday.

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I was a different person back then.  I was happier, but scattered.  Now I’m transfixed and miserable.  I dated him when I was scattered and happy.

I can’t believe he died.  It’s freaky because he said that life is short and we should spend every minute embracing it by doing exactly what we want to do in every moment.

He said it to get me to sleep with him.  But he was actually sincere in his words – it wasn’t just a line, he truly meant it.

One of the warnings on my label suggests that I’m empathetic – which means I can tell the fakes from the phonies.  Well, this guy meant it.  He meant it to the point where I felt what he was feeling and I agreed with him.

But he died of a heroin overdose.  He died doing exactly what he wanted to do, which leads me to wonder, at what point is the cut off?

Ethics, morals?  Do they play a part?

For me, it comes down to respect.  I respect myself and my body.  I respect it so much in fact, that I don’t want to do drugs or have promiscuous sex.  I can have either one.  They are a phone call away.  I’d rather eat cold shrimp and blog at 3:30 AM (which I’m doing now).

And in a weird way, because I respect myself and my body, I respect life.  My desires, or perspective rather, was different from his.  Not that his were wrong, only that they’re not mine.  Just a different path.  I respect his path and withhold all judgement.

You change your perspective, you change your life.  Stop being insecure, don’t stop wanting to find answers – you’re actually finding answers about yourself, not just answers to why someone hurt you.

Norm escaped all that.  He opted out.

I learned in life that the hardest thing to do is often the right thing to do.  It’s not about doing exactly what you want to do, but seeing the bigger picture and how everything ties in.  Empathize, understand, naturally detach only to reconnect with truth.

It all comes down to the bigger picture in the end.  It’s something none of us can see until a part of us dies.

 

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I’m officially the boss of someone

I had a panic attack last night all because the girl I hired didn’t text me back right away.

“Oh no she changed her mind!  Now I have to settle on one of those other girls I interviewed!”

I interviewed four people so far.  The only one I really liked, I hired on the spot.  I gave her a key and put her on the schedule starting April 18th.

I’m learning so much about myself during this whole process of hiring people.  I’m learning the importance of confidence and especially of self-worth.  The girl I hired acted like she belonged there.  That she’s not below me, or below being a confident MT.  I see her potential.

And as silly as it sounds, I hired her because she’s a new massage therapist.  I’ll get to mold her to my liking without her taking offense.  That can’t be done with seasoned vet’s.

Yesterday I interviewed a woman from India.

“Oh yay!”  I thought to myself.  “This woman must know her shit.  People from India take massage very seriously.”

I glanced at her application, and looked up at her.  “Oh man I really want you to massage me right now.”

“You do?  I can do that.”

Me – “Are you sure?  I don’t want to put you on the spot.”

Her – “No problem.  I’ll massage you.”

Well, she massaged me and it wasn’t what I had hoped.  She has experience, she’s Indian, professional, confident, but, eh.

Racial profiling is rarely accurate…

Also, she’s somebody that can’t be molded.  She’s somebody that believes there’s a clear definitive line between swedish and deep tissue.  There is no clear line, only sucky massage verses a great one.

Another girl I interviewed felt a bit impulsive and overbearing.  She told me I should charge more for pregnancy massage and that I should keep the massages to 50 minutes.

Another girl was incredibly sweet.  She’s been working at Massage Envy for 3 years and wants out.  She treated me like I was an actual boss and sincerely laughed at my stupid jokes.  But…..would I want to get a massage from her?  Would I come back to see her?  To request her?

She gave me the impression that no, I wouldn’t anticipate another massage from her.  But she’s so sweet and genuine!  Why Melanie must you be such a prick?

It’s business.  Nothing personal.

I’m looking for people with intelligence, confidence, and charisma – someone who wants to learn.  Someone I can teach without them taking offense.

And so, last night I panicked because the one girl I felt was perfect for the job, didn’t text me back right away.  My mind swirled out of control.

“It’s not real Mel.  None of what you’re feeling is real.”

The thing with panic attacks is that they’re just as much physical as they are mental.  Meaning, that becoming aware of my thoughts and getting a grip on them doesn’t always stop the physical side effects from happening.  Shortness of breath, speedy pulse, complete terror.  I swerved very close to experiencing the terror – I felt it before, and so I recognized what was happening to me.  And it IS physical.

“It’s an attack!  Calm the eff down girl.  Calm the eff down.”

It’s like sitting atop a spooked horse.  You, the rider, know what’s happening, but the bucking bronco between your legs won’t stop.

“First control your thoughts….but businesses fail.  MOST businesses fail!  I don’t know what I’m doing.  And I’m alone in this!”

“It’s not life or death.”

“But it’s my life!”

The physical side of anxiety can best be described as chronic pain.  People with chronic physical pain can’t get better because they can’t separate themselves from the pain.  It’s always there.  They can’t forget and let go, but cope.

Anxiety is no different.  You can’t separate yourself from the physical repercussions of it.  It’s a cycle that needs to run it’s course.

At the time of the attack, I was playing a video game called Borderlands which I attribute as being the trigger.  It wasn’t all because that girl didn’t text me back, but that I was playing a highly frustrating first person shooter game on a big screen TV.

It stressed out my adrenals, I was dehydrated, I haven’t been eating well because of stress – it was NOT a good time to be playing that game.  I’m throughly convinced now, after getting an attack, that video games cause ADD.

I’m home and working on a sign for my business that I can zip-tie to a poll on our one main road in town.  There aren’t many signs on polls where I’m from, so when I come across them, I notice and can’t help to read them.  One guy buys houses, another one is selling mattresses.  Really guy?  Mattresses?

My sign is going to overpower their little crappy signs.

$45 INTRO MASSAGE

GRAND OPENING APRIL 18TH.  

And since I’m an artsy dork with Prismacolor markers, I colored the crap out of it.

But anyway, interviewing people really got me thinking…

What makes a person confident?  Belief?  But what makes them believe?

I took this question and kneaded it over for about three hours while I was massaging.  And what I found it all comes down to is this:

Experience.

Not only experience, but the ability to do something scary – something you’re really not confident for, but you do it anyway.  It’s how people learn.  And in my personal experience with walking the Camino, it’s only when you push yourself, do you find your self-worth.

I’m slowly getting my mind back.  Slowly – very slowly.  This past week I blocked off most of my schedule because well, I needed it.

How easily we can get lost in our lives.  To lose perspective, to lose ourselves.  It’s too easy.  But for me, it’s a necessity that I don’t.  Because when I do, episodes like last night happen.

The thing is, no matter what I’m thinking about, no matter where my focus is, I go deep into it and stretch my sanity strands until they’re frayed and broken.  It doesn’t matter what it is.  I could be sitting on the toilet completely engrossed in my bathroom book (the lazy intellectual), reading about linguistics and the history of language – amazing.

Like for instance, did you know that seibzehnhundertsechsundseibzig is 1776 written out in German?  What’s it like writing out checks for those guys, you know?

It’s like massaging a person and palpating their tight muscles – it’s understanding them to the point where I communicate with them, I experience them as much as the client.

So if we learn through experience, and experience alone, what entails experience?  What is it exactly?

I kneaded this one over too.  While I massaged for those 3 long isolating hours.

When we perceive something, our eyes are the first to see it.  If what we are seeing doesn’t register, we have no gut reaction to it – no feeling towards it.  And so, our thoughts are used to decipher what we see when our feelings are absent.  Can thought be experience?

I found the answer to be no.

“Can you experience a thought?”  I thought to myself.  “Not if that thought doesn’t carry any emotion.  A thought can’t carry emotion like an idea can.”

In buddhism, yes.  Technically yes you can experience a thought.  As long as you’re an outside observer of that thought, you can say, “hey look guys!  I’m experiencing a thought right now.”  But that’s besides the point and will only confuse you.  I’m sure you’re already confused.

No, what I’m trying to say is that experience happens when you are emotionally moved by a thought.  Emotions help you to understand the thought.  Without emotions, we wouldn’t be able to comprehend anything and grow.

So, in conclusion, to feel something emotionally brings about experience.  Experience teaches you.  Experience brings you confidence.  As long as you’re aware of your emotions, you gain experience.

“But what about con men or sociopaths?  They have no emotions and yet they come off as being charming and experienced.  If you only learn through emotions, than how do you explain that?”

Rational brain, I missed our debates!

“Answer the question.”

Um, okay.  That’s a good one.  I was wondering that myself.

“You’re completely schizophrenic I hope you know.”

Con men and sociopaths have no empathy, but that doesn’t mean they’re incapable of feeling emotion.  If they were incapable of emotion, they wouldn’t get off on doing what they do.  They are emotionally selfish and have reached the highest level of narcissism.  Their emotions are self-fulfilling, completely turned inward.

“But aren’t all emotions inward?”

Not love or curiosity.  With those two things, you are connecting yourself with something outside yourself.  You can only know yourself by seeing the contrasts, and you can only see the contrasts if you experience the outside world.  This is where you find self-love, worth, and confidence.

“Sociopaths can be curious.  They can set people up and prod them to get a reaction.  Like all people are guinea pigs to them.”

“You are so freaking difficult.  Yes, okay, they can be curious.  I guess that’s partly where they get their experience from.”

Anyway, it’s late.  It’s 1:25am actually.  My sign board for my business sits uncompleted.  I won’t be able to sleep until it’s finished.

I have two more interviews to give tomorrow and then hopefully I’ll be done with that portion of the business building.

A part of me feels like it’s all pretend.  Like I’m interviewing these people, but not really.  I don’t have the money to employ them, I’m not a boss, I have no work for them.  It almost feels like I’m playing.  I’m playing a game called “let’s see what it feels like to start a business” game.

It would be horrible – absolutely horrible if this feeling actually holds merit.  A portion of it does, but the bigger part of it is yes, I can pay them, yes, I can get them tons of work and damn right I’m the boss.

Okay, I really need to finish my sign.

Tonight is the first in months where I was able to settle down and think.

There are three types of people in the world;  Those who can be moved, those who can’t be moved, and those who move.

Let your emotions move you, but not control you.  Let your thoughts guide you, but not fool you.  Let experience in, and become it to the world.

A wise tribal man once told me to “Be the experience.”  Since I’m on the topic of experience, I thought I’d throw that in.  I’m too tired to connect it to the post however, and I already wrote about his phrase thoroughly in the past, so I’ll just let it sit for now.

Okay, I gotta go.

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No rest for the weary

On top of everything, my two best friends in the entire world are going on vacation without me.  Not only did they not ask, but they refuse to let me come.  My two best friends!  This sent me into a torrential downpour of feeling sorry for myself.  I can’t explain why they won’t let me come because I have no idea, except, well, they hate me.

Me – “What if I come for the last day?”

Friend – “It wouldn’t be worth it.”

I can’t explain the amount of hurt this gave me.  It’s one of those things you’d just have to experience for yourself.

After hearing the news, I drank myself into oblivion at a friends house until 4:30 in the morning.  It was a fire pit and there were a group of us there.  I got along with everybody and felt they all loved me and my company.

That’s the thing about taking things personally.  All it does is hurt your ego.  You feel like something is wrong with you, or your money (worth) holds no value to anyone.  But then when you step away from all that, talking to people who adore you until 4:30 in the morning, you can’t help wonder why everyone can’t all be like that.  Why there are some who make things so complicated.  If it’s not me, then what?  And why?  What did I do or didn’t do?

I haven’t visited my friend who lives in MN for two years.  That’s what I didn’t do.  She texted that to me today, while I’m here massaging people in my tiny office – a place that drives me completely insane.

It’s dark.  I’m alone with my thoughts.  I listen to the same 100 songs being played over and over again all while it’s absolutely gorgeous outside.

Them going away together and leaving me out is my fault.  Nobody is completely blameless, but at least now I know.  At least now it makes a little more sense.

When I learn what I do wrong, that’s when everything makes sense.  I’m a bad friend.  A horrible, retched friend.  The reason why I forgive others so easily is because I myself, am horrible.

But at the same time, it’s all perspective.  People gossip and spread poison, it gets in your head until that’s all you see.  You stop empathizing and start judging and blaming.  The more closed off you are, the more things you hide, the more you blame and judge and close yourself off from any form of understanding.

All done out of pride.  To preserve the ego.  To bask in the merriment of being on the winning side and not at all be labeled the crazy one.  You can’t be crazy if others see what you see.  But how can anyone be proud of that?

I have little pride, but I know I’m worth something.  We’re all worth something.

Me having little pride and just wanting everyone to get along, gnaws at people.  By accepting blame, going any length to make things right – this gnaws at people too.  I don’t let up with wanting to talk things through.  I don’t let up with my apologies that land on stone ears.  I can’t let go if I don’t understand.

The stuff that happened with Krissy and Amy – I completely understand.  I tried talking things out with Amy, but it turned out that she couldn’t get past the fact that she can’t own me.  And it’s the same with Krissy.  I texted Krissy until my fingers bled, but I got nothing.  I let her down one too many times.

If I was under ayahuasca, she’d tell me all this is meaningless.  None of it matters in the end.  All that matters is how you’ve grown from it.

How do I know if I grew?  When I stop getting hurt all the time and instead I get disappointed?

Damn I miss you blog.  You’re missing so much of my life lately – more so than usual.

 

 

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My Brother’s using my laundry detergent

I’m almost sure he is.  Not only that, but my toothpaste too.

He has the tendency to fall asleep during a movie and the menu screen pops up and plays the same theme music over and over again.  Very loud mind you.

We both live downstairs in my parents split level house.  I have my own enclosed bedroom, while he sleeps on the couch without any real privacy. The place is a sty.

Two nights ago I woke up to the loud repeating theme music playing on the DVD’s title screen.  I couldn’t fall back to sleep with it on.  So I got up, opened my bedroom door and caught him in the act of “cuddling” his girlfriend.  I didn’t care.  I went right over to the TV and shut the damn thing off.

Not to mention there’s never any hot water anymore.

I’m sitting here in my stink hole office feeling thankful that my first client never showed.  My brain is still on autopilot.  I have no time to delve into deep thought.  My cheese is sliding off it’s cracker.

But him using my laundry detergent really irks me.  I need it to wash sheets everyday.  And the other day when I told him I needed to take a shower, he put a load of wash in and set it to warm/cold.

“But there’s no hot water for me!”

“This laundry needs to get done.”

I needed to be at work in an hour.

I switched it on cold/cold the first chance I got.  There was no warm water anyway!

I blocked yesterday off so I could focus on my new office.  I ran around from one store to the next, and stayed at the new office until 8:30 at night – when my stomach could no longer contain its hunger.  And I’m still not done.

I’m so close.  Sheets need to go in the cabinets, lotion bottles need to be filled.  I need to set up my Kuerig, unroll a rug I bought from Ikea, move a bench from my old office into the new.  Mount mirrors in each room, write up a cheat sheet so my employee’s can learn how to book appointments online and oh yeah, hire employee’s.

I can’t do anything while I’m here in this stink hole waiting for clients.

My excitement manifests into frustration whenever I can’t have my way immediately.  I have no patience.

And I’m sick on top of everything.  My phone won’t stop ringing.  Some weird guy just called asking about massages.

My blog will duly suck for the time being.  I must end this post.

 

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8 days left

My brain still doesn’t’ work.  That’s why I haven’t been blogging lately.

When my brain fails to ponder, life goes by really fast.  I can’t catch up to it.  I have no time.

Wow shit.  I can’t think.  Is this how normal people are?

Today is March 23, 2014 which leaves me with 8 days left to finish setting up my new office.   8 days to get everything done.  It sounds like enough time, but I’m still taking clients here at my stink hole office in Middlefield.

I’m here now.  Here at my little office.  The guitar instructor that rents an office down the hall bought a massage for his girlfriend and that’s who I’m waiting for.  A quick $70 bucks then off to Bed Bath & Beyond.

Okay, she’s done.  That was fun.

So yeah, my blog sucks right now.  My brain sucks.  I’m suffering from real exhaustion.  My eyes want to close, I’m coughing and I have a sore throat.  The people helping me with my office are Godsends – real life angels!

My friend fixed the closet in my office yesterday.  She fixed the damn thing in 10 minutes!  And the day before that, Dave stopped by toting a few beers and fixed a lock I was having trouble with and then helped me build two Ikea lamps.  He literally felt like an angel.

One friend gave me wall decorations, another is making shit loads of homemade soap so we can sell it together when the place opens.  My dad has unrelenting support in helping me build cabinets, move stuff, fix stuff.  My Mother is excited about the whole thing.  Texting me that everything will be wonderful.

My brother gave me shells he found on the beach. He calls them whompom and they’re supposed to relieve stress when I rub them.  Even if he’s full of shit, the fact he cared enough to do that, made me happy and appreciative.

I’m beyond words as to how much work is actually involved in something like this.  Something as simple as dealing with AT&T to come fix my severed phone line, made me miserable.  Four times they showed up while I wasn’t’ there.  Four!

Anyway, my brain is not working properly, so this post needs to end.  I’m writing with no point, just for the sake of it.  That’s never a good time to write.  I need to make face cradle covers tonight.  This involves a sewing machine.

I better go.

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A rubbish post

I shouldn’t be here.  My parents tried for six long years before they had me.  And after nine months of being in the womb, I still didn’t want to come out.  I was a full grown baby living inside someones stomach until the doctors decided enough was enough.  And now that I’m out (unwillingly), 34 years later, I still haven’t left.  Not really.

I always keep one foot outside reality, placed in a dream that I no longer belong to.  A dream of vast possibilities, of emptiness (the good kind).  A dream I could never understand or grasp for more than a few seconds at a time.

Lately I’ve been getting flashes of serenity.  Of some great power hidden inside me.  A power that I once knew how to wield, far before I knew this world.  It’s not exactly destiny, more like learning who I am.  Learning my capabilities and learning what I can do is just another way of learning who I am.

To avoid sounding vague, and to avoid subjective misinterpretations of what I’m saying, I’ll be clear.

I feel golden.

Not all the time mind you, just flashes.  They are golden flashes amid a sea of worry, sadness, doubt, and depression.  The sea of fear is where this little golden child was born into.  A place where she choses to keep one foot affixed in the interstellar matrix of wonder and amazement. Of possibilities that allude and delude….shit my next client is here.

It’s now the next day.  What the hell was I talking about yesterday?  It’s the kind of post that never leaves my draft folder.  My draft folder has hundreds of these doodles.  I call them “doodles” because they’re meaningless and have no ending.

Life is a doodle of creation.

There I go again.  WTF brain?

I’m in work and just finished with my last client.  Now I have to go to Target to exchange some curtain rods, then Joe-anne Fabric to get about 6 yards of fleece for face cradle covers (they are less expensive that way), then Bed Bath & Beyond to get their cute water jug with a spout and a versatile $50 cabinet that can store all my face cradle covers.  Then off to Pier One to pick up my bench that just came in, then to my office where I have mass tons of work to do.  Massive truck loads of work.

This is the shit that no one cares about.  The shit that goo’s up your brain.  Where am I in all this?  I haven’t’ been sleeping or eating.  I look atrocious.

My Dad – “You look horrible.”

Me – “It’s windy out and I haven’t been sleeping.”

That video I shot a few days ago, I was tired then, but things keep piling up and I look even worse now.  I can’t breathe, I can’t relax.

Shit, I have leave to go do all that stuff.  I need to go to the post office and the bank too.  Oh man…..

:(

This post is rubbish.  My brain can’t think when it’s like this.

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Snags

I severed my phone line.  Yes I did.  I chopped it down and threw away the cord.  Why?  Because the last business that occupied my space was a telemarketing company.  There were wires everywhere!  Climbing up the walls and out of mouse holes.  Hanging everywhere like cobwebs.

I went crazy and sliced them all down.  I filled the small dumpster out back with gobs of unused cables.

When I was done, I trudged back into my office like the little soldier that I am and glanced at my office phone.  NO LINE shown on its display.

“Shit.  Oh no come on.  Shit!”

I sat and I pouted.  Too tired and defeated to move.  Too depressed, too overcome with debt, with doubt, with overwhelm.

“What am I even doing here.”

I went home and slept.  I slept until I woke up today at noon.  Still tired, still without energy.  And I called the phone company.  AT&T.

I hate automated answering services.

“This is an automated service.  You can talk to me like a real person.  Please state your problem.”

Me – “I want to talk to a real person.”

“You can talk to me just like a real person.  Please state your problem.”

After about an hour of getting transferred to talk to more robots, and getting hung up on because – “We’re sorry we’re having trouble understanding you.  Please try again later,” I finally been directed to a live person.

Live person – “That number shows up as SNET New England.  It’s different from us.”

Me – “Okay, so I’m not with AT&T then?”

Live person – “It says here you’re with SNET, sorry.  I can’t help you.”

And I was at ground zero again.  This time worse than before.  All the SNET websites out there directed me to AT&T.  They directed me to the same number as before.

And so I called the same number as I did five times previous and got the same talking robot that walked me through the questions I already answered numerous times before.  Only this time, I answered one question differently and was directed to a live person.

“Thank God!”

I told her I severed my phone line.  She told me someone will look at it tomorrow.

“Will I need to be there?”

Her – “No.”

She gave me a ticket number and ended the call.

“But it’s not outside, it’s inside.  Why didn’t she ask me where the phone line was cut?”

Five minutes later another woman from AT&T called and asked me just that.  Where the problem was.  I explained everything.

“This is why we’re here.  Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything.  The same thing happened to me actually.  Someone will be there tomorrow.”

“Would you be able to have them call me before they come?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you thank you thank you.”

She felt like an angel.  An angel that came to rescue me in my darkest hour.

I had one client today at my other office.  I don’t want to work anymore.  I don’t want my life to be taken over with massaging people over and over again.  Who in their right mind likes this?  Who?

It’s 7:45PM and I should head home.  It was so nice out today and I missed it.  I missed it because I was on the phone with AT&T for most of the day, then had to give a massage.

Life is too short for this.  It goes by way too fast.  My client even told me this.  She’s turning 60 and can’t get over how fast life happens.

Client – “This is sad to say, but I would’ve been happier if I never had kids.”

That comment is besides the point, but just thought I’d share.  I mean shit, right?

All I need is a few more months to stabilize and everything will be okay.  Just a few more months.  It’ll be worth it.  I’ve technically been waiting my whole life for something like this.

The thing I haven’t been waiting for?  Having kids.

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Following my unexplored heart

Life is certainly bizarre.  I could’ve settled into my one-room office doing everything myself, building a 401K, paying off my bills, eventually saving enough for a house.  Get married, double my income, pop out a few kids.

But instead I’m choosing the scarier, more unexplored option by following my heart.

I would’ve been miserable in that other, more stagnant life.  I know what I want, and I don’t want that.

Anytime a person follows their heart, it moves them towards progress.  And while in the act of progressing, you WILL suffer.  It’s all part of the game.  It’s all part of growth.  The suffering that takes place is all done in your own mind.  A rewiring of old beliefs to make room for the new.  You’ll doubt yourself, worry, suffer loss.  Any type of change you face, has to do with also facing some type of loss.

It’s the loss that makes you suffer.

I’m losing the ground beneath my feet and investing everything I have into following my heart.  And I’m doing it all without a mentor, a guide, a Dumbledore to tell me what to do.

Do you have any idea how much an employee actually costs?

I have to pay:

  1. Employer portion of Social Security tax
  2. Employer portion of Medicare tax
  3. State unemployment tax
  4. Federal unemployment tax
  5. Worker compensation insurance

Plus I still have to figure out about liability insurance.  Massage therapists come equipped with their own, but I’m not sure if I need more.  I can’t find this information anywhere!  And I searched my towns website for a general business license, but I can’t figure out how to get my hands on one.  Maybe I don’t need one?  Legal Zoom has a company that says they can get me one for $100, but they might be scammers.  Legal Zoom also offered to obtain an EIN for me for $79, even though it’s free and easy to do yourself.  Research such as this is the stuff I have to learn on my own.  And it’s time consuming.

Before I buy anything, I always do my research.  Just as I did while hunting for a new car.

When I get home from work today, I have to sign my business up with federal unemployment tax and workmen’s comp.  Tomorrow I have a Spa Booker online training seminar at 3:00 and the phone and internet guys are scheduled to come to the office between 1:00 – 3:00.  I have four applicants waiting to hear back from me, a shit ton of Ikea crap that needs to be put together.  My new website has yet to be built.

My deadline is March 31.  If I can be done by March 31, I can leave my old office.  Once I’m moved into my new office and my clients start going there instead, I’ll be somewhat settled.  The transition will near its completion.

I was a live wire of emotion yesterday.  Any cruel look or comment could’ve sent me into a crying frenzy.  Mostly from the Facebook haters.  They really did a number on me.  It’s insane how cruel and hopeless the world feels after getting the shit kicked out of you by 70 plus people.  How everything, and everyone feels mean.  It’s something darker than depression, it’s fear.

And today I feel fine.  I’m back to my old self.

I asked my brother yesterday – “Do you need liability insurance for your workers?”

My brother – “Ha ha I hope you have a lawyer.  Do you have a lawyer?  I paid my lawyer 10 grand last year.  Yes you need insurance and it costs a LOT.”

Me – “Can you help me?  Do you have the name of the guy you use?”

Him – “Sorry, you’re on your own.”

He was back to his phone.

My brother was preoccupied with his phone all while I was trying to talk to him.  He was laughing and saying funny things as usual.

Him – “No ain’t going to help you.  You’re moving in here and taking my business away.  No way.”

Me – “You’re kidding, right?  You must be kidding.”

I literally felt the tears welling up.

Me – “I would help you if you were me.  You really won’t help me?”

Him – “Yeah, I’ll help you.  But I’m still going to spread rumors that your place has maggots.”

I felt a 100 pound weight lift from me when he said that.  I’m not joking when I say I was a live wire of emotion yesterday.  Even though he was having a go at me, I still wanted to cry.  It felt like not only did Facebook people hate me, but my brother hated me as well.

I’m insanely sensitive at times.  Times when I feel not together, when I feel there’s too much that needs to be done and nowhere and no resources to pull from.  It’s like finding myself stranded at the bottom of the ocean with half a tank of oxygen left and no strength to swim up.  I can’t swim up because it’s hopeless and I won’t make it out in time.

But then I bounce back.  Like today.  I’m perfectly fine and have my head back.  Thank God for my resilience.  Maybe my resilience comes from never wanting to give up and lose hope.  I can get through and get over anything because I never give up.  My heart always leads me, and I trust it.

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I’m being chased with pitchforks and torches by an angry mob of Facebookers. Just another regular day in the life of Mel.

“Get a massage by me and find out if you’re an alien!”

This was posted on a billboard for my new massage clinic.  Directly in front of my building.  It even depicted a green alien holding up a peace sign.

“What a great idea!”  I thought to myself.  “People can finally find out if they’re aliens by getting a massage from me.  It’s brilliant!”

Then I woke up.

“Is this really a good idea or was it only a good idea in my dream?”  This was my first thought of today.

Nope, only in my dream.  Damn, it sounded really good.

Today was hard.  First item of the day was to contact Spa Booker for my new online scheduling system.  I’m taking a big hit financially by signing up with them, but the perks of their software are worth it.  I won’t bore you with the details, only that they are fantastic.

The financial hit with Spa Booker sent me into another panic mode frenzy.

“Shit I’m screwed if this doesn’t work.  I don’t even have employee’s yet!”

I freaked and started posting jobs to various sites.  I even posted a job to Massage Nerd, a Facebook support group.  And got shunned.

I’m using Massage Envy’s business structure as my own, and this is the first thing that people spotted about my Facebook ad.  They read between the lines into who I really am – someone looking to profit from another persons hard work.  Duh!  Isn’t that the point of employee’s?

Most massage therapists hate massage chains.  They are the McDonalds of massage, only instead of cheap burgers, I’m selling the same quality burger you’d find anywhere, only cheaper and easier to book with.  They are easier to book with because they hire employee’s to sit there for an hourly wage, take walk-in clients, and are readily available instead of other clinics that have to hunt down their on-call therapists (most of whom ignore the call).

It’s so bizarre when first coming into view of these two clashing worlds.  Therapists who want to massage people for a living, work from home or in their own office to make a modest profit.  They like their job.  They like what they do.

But then there are people like me, the people who view the massage industry differently.  For us, it’s not a way of life, but a profession.  A paid occupation.  It’s a tool to profit from.  I can’t escape the gnawing dread of breaking an arm, or getting a nasty gash on my hand.  If I don’t work, I don’t get paid.  Something must be done about this.  How are others not seeing this?

And so, I’m using Massage Envy as a base model.  Their system is proven to work.

I’m a person that massage therapists hate.  I am a hated person.  Shit.

They hate me because I lower their value, I lower their worth.  It’s all an ego thing with them and they can’t see it!

When someone offends you, it’s because you feel they lowered your worth.  They take things personally.  I shrug my shoulders at everything, but what scares me most right now is that I want to laugh at all the haters.  I have this bubble of laughter in my gut just waiting to explode.

This is not good.  Why do I want to laugh?  These people commenting on my Facebook ad, many of them shunning me with torches and pitchforks, and here I am wanting to laugh at them.  Is it my egoic baser survival instinct kicking on to block all hate?  Or do I see the true nature of the situation and find it comical?  I feel like I’m the older sibling holding a kicking screaming child by their head while their flailing arms and legs aren’t long enough to reach me.  Their fighting makes me laugh.

Am I a sociopath because of this?  No no, I can’t be.  Right?

Anyway, it’s a few hours later and my Facebook ad got well over 90 discriminating comments.  Okay, not all discriminating.  Half of them are for me, while the other half is spewing vile discharge out of their anuses.  Did you know that synthetic vanilla flavoring comes from beaver anal discharge?  Neither did I.

I received my first legitimate response to my help wanted ad from a reputable job search engine, and a woman on Facebook wants to work for me per diem.  Sorry per diem lady, I need stability.

It felt like a half dozen sparrows encased my heart in silk ribbons and lifted it high into the air when I saw her resume in my inbox.

Yes!  Score.  This will work.  This will work.  Eat it Facebook turds.

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Don’t watch this video. It’s mainly for my memories.

I was super tired and had a very long hard day, but I wanted to shoot some footage of my new office before it got furnished.  I’m going to shoot the finished product once I’m done with everything.

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