Finding Peace in the midst of ALS

This month, I had the opportunity to visit my brother Jon's family twice. The first visit was at the impetus of my brother, Gerry, who lives in London and wanted to visit. Six of the seven Neu siblings were able to gather at Jon's house, working on home improvement projects, visiting, and eating yummy food. I went up yet again two weekends after to help with more home improvement projects and just try to be of service.

With each passing week and every visit, I think about this diagnosis. I try to understand it. How should I help? How should I feel? How DO I feel? Should I be doing this differently? Should I be understanding this differently?

When Jon was first diagnosed with ALS, it was very difficult to come to terms with. I read books about the disease, and the odds he faces.My family members and I started a frenzy of fasting, praying, pleading for healing, for beating those odds. I grappled with images and stories of others with ALS, like the Team Gleason commercial above, and  the documentary "Indestructible". Putting Jon's face into these stories causes me such anguish, even if the stories are infused with hope.

We don't know what the future holds.  But we must acknowledge our reality, including the fact the disease is progressing. While coming to terms with this reality is still difficult, I find peace in these thoughts:

We all still have a lot of hope for that better future. Miracles and cures are always possible.

I repeatedly remind myself that I have not actually lost my brother. In fact, I'm lucky he's still here. Some people lose their loved ones in an instant -- wonderful people who are treasured, just as much as my brother.

Despite my good fortune, I repeatedly experience feelings of devastation and loss. This will likely not stop. And it's OK. Obviously Jon is not gone, but the invincible Jon, and my expectations of a future invincible Jon -- they have been diminished. That is something to grieve.

As much as I feel overwhelmed to process this, I struggle even more to imagine how it would feel to be Jon in this situation. As I consider how to manage emotions in this uncertainty, I try to remember to be most mindful of his.

We, his extended family, fumble with how to anticipate and accommodate Jon's family's needs. But it's a kind, loving thing to fumble with.

My sister is picking up her whole family and moving to Minnesota, just to be there in case that would be helpful. She's awesome. My whole family is awesome.

It doesn't matter to me whether they "really need something" or if something could be put off till later. If there is something to do and I'm able,  I will seize the opportunity. We may not be able to move heaven and earth, or cure my brother, but we can do everything within our capacity to help-- if for no other purpose, just to prove that if we could, we would. And we do.

I am unwilling, despite my good fortune that his disease is not taking him from us more quickly, to give Jon up to ALS. Even if losing Jon to ALS was inevitable (which it's not). I won't give him up till I have to.

ALS And My Brother Jon

Something most people don't know about me. When I meet new people, and love them (Which I usually do. I can't help myself), there's one thing I want to do: I want to share them with the people I love -- aka my family. I imagine bringing them into the fold, and saying, " You're gonna love this." And then they would love it. I think I want to do this so they can enjoy the comfort, joy and love that is my family.  But I can't get you there, mostly because "there" does not exist. My family is geographically very dispersed. You'd think people who like each other so much would live closer together. Alas, 'tis not so.  But I can bring a little of my family to all of you, right here on my blog. And I can bring you no better than the fine specimen named Jonathon Tilton Neu. I shall tell you about him.

As many of you may be aware, my brother, Jon, was recently diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease, also called Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or ALS. As this news will likely be the impetus for many future posts, I'd like to tell you about my brother. First, he's pretty cute. And we Neu's are incredibly superficial, so we want you to know how good-looking we are, first and foremost. See picture of happy, adored son, devoted brother, and doting father below:

1. Thing to adore about Jon: he is hilarious. Both he and his wife Anne are a good time, in a red-neck, best not come here if you're too good for your britches, kind of way. Pretentious and self-important folk need not apply here. But you're missing out. Just sayin'.

2. Thing to hate about Jon: He's incredibly good at pretty much all strategy games. I love strategy games. And I'm decent at some of them. On some occasions I lose. I much prefer winning, but just by a little, so you still enjoy the game too and think you have a fighting chance. :) Sadly. I lose against Jon pretty much all the time. It's kind of unsatisfying, yet addictive, like gambling at a casino (a fitting analogy, as my chances of winning there are probably as good). My only solace is that everyone I have seen play has succumbed to defeat when they play with Jon. I don't know how he figures out how to win so fast. And while it's remarkable, it drives me crazy.

3. Thing to be worried about Jon: He has amazing power over children. They love him. And they want to do anything that he says just for the joy of pleasing him. I know, because I used to be that young kid and I would have done anything for Jon when I was little. (Ok, so that's still true). Sounds like a good thing, right? Yeah, UNTIL you consider the fact that I now have 28 nieces and nephews.  And while I don't normally worry about holding my own around people smaller than me, I have been made aware of the fact that 20+ of them CAN, in fact, throw you into a pool, whether you want them to or not, as long as Jon wants them to. Jon has a veritable army at his disposal. Small but mighty. You've been warned. 

4. Thing to admire about Jon: He's as strong as an ox. While the rest of us poor saps are portaging canoes by twos, Jon takes the heavy ones all by himself. I'm gonna guess he gets it from my farming grandfather on my mom's side. Us little Jews with my dad's genes just can't hack it.

5. Thing to relish about Jon: He's a feeder and he makes yummy food. Favorite foods to enjoy at his house include homemade pizza (he used to work at a pizza place in high school and they taught him good), goulash & galushka (did I mention we're Hungarian Jews?), all things barbecue, and wassail. And whenever planning a get-together with Jon, you can rest assured that food will be a primary consideration. Even ahead of sleeping arrangements. It's a big deal.

6. Thing to idolize about Jon: He has a heart of gold. he's taught me at least a few times about how to be less judgmental and to pay attention to important, as opposed to stupid, things. He has a gift for making people feel welcome and special. Maybe it's because he has a great laugh which he applies liberally, and he has a charming, witty, self-deprecating sense of humor.Whatever it is that he has, it disarms everyone.

7. Thing to take into consideration when doing anything with Jon: He has an intimate relationship with the laws of physics, and tests them regularly, with mostly success but some fails. You wanna know how large of a bonfire you can build next to your house without catching your home on fire? Jon knows. You wanna know how to handle an off-road vehicle without flipping over or pitching anyone off? Jon mostly knows. I think. You wanna know how fast and curvy you can drive the boat without killing the people riding on the tube you're pulling? You hope Jon knows. Because he's the one driving. You wanna know the limits of the power of a potato gun? I'm not sure, but I'm gonna guess Jon knows. I'm sure he's come across one. Jon's experience with most things imbues a naive level of confidence in his ability to take care of you while getting very close to the limits of important laws. Like gravity. Momentum. And Thermodynamics. And you wade into the situation thinking, "It's all good because he's tested the limits already." And that's true. And he'll verify that it's true, and that everything is good. And it IS all good... until you realize he's still "testing".

8. Thing to always remember about Jon: Call him Philippe. No, really. Do. Why? Well, my Dad is French, so he probably didn't know better. And my mother is innately very accommodating. But being the good mother she is, she couldn't let that happen, so she went back to the hospital to have it changed on the birth certificate to Jonathon. Only, she didn't know it was too late. Philippe would never totally be gone when there were six siblings to remember Philippe existed.

9. Thing to grin about Jon: Sometimes he makes sounds like Yogi Bear. It's awesome. 

10. Thing that makes this thing about Jon really hard: He has a huge presence, and is sorely missed when he's not there. 

Tom Hanks is my favorite actor.And I know he's an American sweetheart to many for a number of reasons, but I think TH was bound to be my favorite one because he looks like Jon. I named my car Tom Hanks, as associating the car with both the actor and  my brother makes me smile on a regular basis.

So, here's my brother Jon. You can fall in love with him too. I will probably be talking a lot about him and expounding on meditations on life and faith that have occupied my mind and heart since his diagnosis. More to come. Much love to you all.

Bad News

I got on the bus after work. I left the office just a few minutes after I got the text. “Confirmed.” I didn’t leave the office because I was upset about the news. And I didn’t leave the office early or rushed, except that I was rushed because I was about to miss the bus. However, the timing was serendipitous, as it was best, as the news sunk in, that I was on the bus. On the bus, though surrounded by strangers, I was also alone, sitting in my own row, able to turn my face to the window that I knew was tinted so that no one in traffic could see me as we passed. And the roar of traffic, the hum of the large bus engine, and the loud air conditioning system were enough to give me hope that I was in my own space; that all that noise would separate me from my surroundings like walls,  enough to drown out my silent cries and distract from my anguished side face sufficient that no other passengers would notice. It came faster than I thought it would, and I was so glad for it.

Glad to cry? Yes. I wanted to cry all the way home. I wanted to cry long enough so that I could come home and see Ben, and he would see me and know that I was hurt. And I could cry about it in his arms. But I knew that was unlikely because the bus ride is about 45 minutes, and after that time passes, I have a 10 minute drive from the park and ride. And I rarely cry for a full hour. I was sad. And thinking about my own sadness about this made me feel quite vain. After all, it wasn’t my news. Why did I need anyone to see me? I was already crying in public, after all. And yet, despite my wish to expose my pain, I had my hair as much forward in front of my face, and my face angled towards the window as much as possible, so that none of the other passengers would be exposed to my intimate, and exposed emotions.

I cried because I was defiant in the face of the news. I refused to accept it and yet I knew I was helpless to change it. Confirmed. I had assumed for the last two weeks that this would be the news. They’d already told me there as about an 85% likelihood this was the case. And I had already cried about it multiple times. Did I really need to cry about it again? Apparently. And I was glad to. My heart was feeling broken. I let my mind explore all the fears this diagnosis could conjure. Fears of mine, and threatening realities for all those closest. I don’t want these visions to become true. I thought if I stopped thinking about it then my tears would stop. But even in dwelling on my own selfish desires, desire to be crying and to cry with Ben, for my own selfish purposes, the tears did not stop. 

I cried up until we pulled out of the park & ride stop before mine. That was about 30 minutes into my 45 minute ride. I would not cry all the way home after all. As I suspected. But I would defiantly leave my mascara all over my cheeks so that he knew. I would not wipe this hurt away or soften it. I wanted it to be recognizable and clear. As I pulled down the mirror in my car visor to see how ridiculous I really looked, I was surprised by how much more my right eye had teared up than my left, as evidenced by the uneven distribution of black crumbles of mascara over my two cheeks.

I drove home a stoic. And I walked in the door. Ben was just a few steps away, sitting at the computer in the office, which has its doorway facing the door to the garage, where I entered the house. Upon hearing the stir of my arrival, he said, “You’re home! How was your day?"  It was a very normal, cheery greeting. And though I had wanted to weep in his arms, the normalcy evoked a reflexive normalcy in myself. Suddenly, I wanted to say “Good. How was yours?” And I would have probably responded that way to anyone else, even in that moment, on that evening. But it was Ben. And before I replied, I admonished myself to respond acknowledging what had happened, as if to respond normally would have been disrespectful. I would have told him earlier. I would have sent him a text too. But I left my phone in the office in my rush not to miss the bus. And perhaps because I was more frazzled by the news than I had thought. He would want to know too. And so I responded with something that let him know that I’d gotten bad news, but I can’t really recall what I said. He said, “They got the results back? What did they say?” And only then did I look at him, and said, “I think you can guess.” And he saw my make-up stained cheeks. I was so glad for them, not for my vanity that he would know I was hurt, but because it meant I didn’t have to say any of those words. 

Saying things out loud is more earth-shattering than just understanding something, and it would have been painful to do in that moment. It was shattering enough that we were acknowledging the news out loud. Even in indirect references. I was glad not to have to say the words. Or word, as it were. I put my bags down. And Ben, as sweet as he was, and as strange as it must have been to him as I am not sure if I have ever cried in his arms, even after five years of marriage, came to me to give me comfort. And to my relief, all the tears came right back. And I cried for a few moments.

I made sure not to cry for too long. After all, I had cried on the bus enough. Was it controlled crying? What's uncontrolled crying? My emotional outburst was paradoxical to the controlled thoughts in my head. When is it proper to stop? Should I stop now because I'd already cried enough? I don't want to wear out Ben's shoulder. Perhaps if I don't stop myself now, I could go on forever. Or just too long. Stop now? Now? Now. I can stop now. I never seem to let my brain turn off enough to let my emotions have their way. They never take me over completely. And I wondered if at this point I just cried because I was in a habit of crying, rather than crying because of the news.

But maybe that’s how it is when you get bad news. Perhaps the news itself is like a dagger. And it wounds you. And even if you remove the dagger, and don’t think about it, you’re still wounded. And you still bleed. And it bleeds out after that, whenever something brushes up against it to break up the scab, be it external provocation, a passing thought, or just because you're moving around too much and hurting things inside that are still fragile. Yes, it’s like a wound.

This does not explain the joy in my tears. There was a time when I did not cry like this. When tragedy would strike those I loved. And while I knew my soul was wounded, or at least very much should be, I did not feel the wounds. As a young girl, I remember riding on the bus from school, conjuring up imaginings of family tragedy and personal losses, just to see if I could get myself to cry.  I suspect that on a subconscious level I was aware I was disconnected from my feelings. But I didn’t know they’d been dislodged from me like one might have a dislocated shoulder.

It wasn’t until I started dating Ben that I learned I had issues with emotional dislocation. I found myself  on several occasions during our courtship crying for no reason, unprovoked, without any daggers to my soul, by odd triggers. And I went to therapy because I had no idea how else to figure out what was going on. And in therapy, emotions I had buried, unable to acknowledge at a much more tender age, came bubbling up to the surface. I acknowledged them out loud for the first time, over 20 years after they happened. Quiet all that time. And yet still there. I had no idea until then that there were words I had never said out loud. Or that saying things out loud mattered so much. Or hurt so much. And they were shattering to say. But they were also very healing. All those years, I had no idea how much I wasn’t feeling. My emotions have since come back to me, taking their place close to me, more and more as time goes by.

So it may seem strange to some. And though it is selfish and odd to put it this way, I was so grateful to be devastated. I wondered if it wasn’t possible the Savior was also glad in the garden of Gethsemane to feel all he felt for our pains and our anguishes and our wounded souls. Because I think, at its most basic level, pain is often the thing that connects us. For me, it is an evidence of my devotion and my love. But rather than a conscious sense of devotion as I’ve had in the past, it is instinctive. I have been wounded and I can feel this wound. And each time they come, though I would wish these daggers to cease to exist, I would never wish to not feel the resulting pain from the emotional wounds and share in that agony. For those you love, you wish to feel nothing less. 

Life Lessons From a Very Crappy Week

Things have been very tumultuous at my job lately. And they have been tumultuous before (I'm starting to notice a pattern). And as I'm sure you can understand, frequent episodes of upheaval and personal attack seem to cause me...mmm, distress. Regardless, I get up every day, put on my big girl panties, and go to my job to face the day. So far, it hasn't killed me and, shockingly enough, I have not yet run out of "big girl panties" (as a faithful Mormon, I try to keep a healthy stock of all emergency needs, including the panties.)

I've mostly felt frustrated, battered, angry, let down, sad, threatened and unjustifiably persecuted (if I thought it was justified then I'd be in REALLY bad shape). I was feeling pretty pit-poor yesterday. Probably the worst thus far. And I was feeling shocked and pit-poor the day before (though I'm not sure why I was shocked. As I mentioned, this happens at my job frequently enough that I should see it coming by now). I don't like being treated in this manner for the simple crime of having done my job. Dealing with people's egos appears to be akin to walking through a minefield. You can inadvertently step on one at any time, and when you do it will blow up all over you.

Today, I went to the gym for my lunch break, which I have not done in a couple weeks. I wasn't sure what I was doing there because I did not have any mojo in me to run or work out. But I knew I needed to get out of my office. And I figured, even if I didn't feel like it, I could walk. And as I pressed the button to accelerate my walking speed to "actually moving", I figured I could just TRY to run. I ran for 20 minutes at a nice light pace. And it felt good. I spent the whole time day-dreaming about my accuser being in a court room on the stand and me lambasting them for their foolish and incorrect arguments and accusations. I probably could have gone for a lot longer than 20 minutes. But, as I mentioned, I hadn't been running for two weeks. No need to get carried away. It was a refreshing run. Sometimes it's nice to know that even if you don't think you have it in you, if you try, you just might surprise yourself. I was grateful to find that.

Another thing I'm grateful for -- emotional exhaustion. I was really upset Wednesday. And quite demoralized yesterday. But today -- I'm really just too tired to care all that much. Subsequently, I feel a bit of relief. On occasion, a little bit of apathy can go a long way.

Tomorrow morning I am going to a rhythm & motion class at the Cincinnati Ballet with my friend Bette. I am going to salsa, leap and swing my hips. It's my effort to put an end to what has heretofore been a very crappy week. Goodbye week. Thank you for the survival lessons. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Risky Questions

It was a normal evening. I had just picked Ben up from work and we were home. I was warming up the experimental dinner I'd prepared -- potato salsa fritatta -- and we were catching up on our days. And then the question came --

Ben: "So, how are those placebo pills working?"

Sharon: "What do you mean?" Pause...

Sharon: "Oh. Well, I haven't started my period yet. But it's only day two and it may take some time for my hormone levels to go down. I think I'm still adjusting to the birth control pills."

Ben: "Oh. Ok. Well, what if you don't get your period?"

Sharon: "Well, I have to start it. That's how the female body works. I'm not on the regular pills, so with the placebo pills my body will naturally start its period. It has too. It's cyclical, like the seasons. My body just does that."

Ben: "Right. But what if you DON'T start it?"

Sharon: ----------

Ben: "Sharon?"

Sharon: "But that wouldn't make any sense. I've been on the pill the whole time."

Ben: "Maybe it doesn't work for you."

I think I flat-lined for a few moments. ANd then I came back to consciousness. Loudly. And furiously.

WHAT!?!? And then the fear took hold. Is it possible that I am a super, unstoppable reproductive machine? Really? That doesn't seem quite fair. I don't really wanna be preg-- preg-- preg-a-nent. I mean. It's totally not a good time. I need to get a job. I have had a total of THREE different jobs this year. It doesn't look good to end like that. I'll have no future.

This world of having people ask me if I'm pregnant and suddenly realizing that each time, shockingly, this is actually possible, is frightening the bejeebers out of me. They need to stop asking me.

Then came despair. I'm totally out of shape right now! And they don't let you get back into shape while you're pregnant. They say that's bad. It would be so cruel to be stripped of my gym membership, be forced into out-of-shapeness and gain a few pounds and then be thrown into the depths of pregnancy. I can't even.... I don't know if I can bear it! And I've taken the pill so faithfully! Ok, there was the two day slip up while I was traveling. But after that two day slip up, I verified with TWO nurses that it would still work AND I didn't let you touch me for a month! How is this possible?!?

How can I, in good conscience, go to job interviews knowing I'm pregnant? And do they have policies like insurance companies that get them out of being considerate if you have a previous condition? And what about Sharon Charles? I suppose I can just work through and it doesn't have to change much. But it's a kid? If it doesn't change much doesn't that mean I'm ignoring the kid? I mean.... it's just not a good time. We've been married for like a day. I know I said I'd be sad for a while and then I'd get over it.... but I'm really thinking I might be sad for a REALLY LONG time. I could need longer than 9 months to get over it and be happy. I wouldn't have that much time....

It's happening. And I don't even have a choice. I have been taken from my job and thrown into housewife status and NOW I'm going to be insta-preggo right after? I SO did not think I was signing up for this! It's like a bad dream. Now I'm going to be shopping at target for the rest of my life. And I'll find myself adding cream of something soup to everything I cook. And I'll start wearing sweat pants and.....

I feel so... so TRICKED! They tell you sex is ok after you're married. But if you're a super, reproducing machine like me -- IT'S NOT TRUE. It's NEVER safe.

Then, from nowhere, a small ray of hope: It's ok. It's only day two. I could still start. I have a whole week to start. I want cramps. I want cramps. Start. Start. Please? No cramps. Please start? Nope. Now? Still no cramps. I waited all night. It was SUCH a long night. Ben put a movie on to distract me. The Aviator. Not a bad film. It worked. A little.

This my friends, was quite possibly the longest night of my life. OK, not really. But it was TOTALLY overwhelming! And reaffirmed that, though it may be socially and religiously appropriate and permissable to have children at this time, I really REALLY don't want any yet. I know, I know. Very unfemale instictual of me. But I just don't have the "I wanna be a mommy" gene. It's not my fault! Maybe it is. But it is, nonetheless, true. It makes me very weird. It may change in the future. But it's just how I am at the moment. I can't help it.

Alas, all is well and I woke up this morning with my wish. I am safe for now. And I've never been so delighted for cramps and all that attends them in my entire life.

But I think Ben should be aware that it is a great detriment to the future of our sex lives to ask me questions like that. Really.

This Week

Things I'm grateful for this week:

1. My sister -- I'm SO glad she moved back and is close by and I can talk to her and see her regular and talk her ear off about all the details of my me-centric life. She humors me and loves me all at the same time. And she compliments me a lot. I like that too. And she's just awesome. She's not crazy or mean like some sisters can be. She's sensible and nice and caring and has AMAZING perspective. She's awesome.

2. Good friends -- I don't talk with as many people on a regular basis as I used to. My life has changed a bit in that regard in comparison to my early twenties. And I am grateful for all my friends. But I have some very close friends who I love having around, hearing about their lives, getting advice from them when I get to my wits end(which can happen pretty often), going on vacations with, double dating with, planning game nights with, doing choreographed lip sync routines to ridiculous song compilations, hot tubbing with, book clubbing with, going to the gym with.... the list goes on. What would I do without you?

3. Jefita -- I wouldn't be going into business without him. I wouldn't have had as many fun and crazy stories from college without him. I would not have a lot of things without him. He's a great cheerleader, a great friend, a great supporter, a hard worker, a great talent and, overall, a good person to have around. Everybody should have their own Jefita.

4. An ability to budget -- I am not a frugal person. I would say, in general, I am a terrible waster of money and very bad at saving. I am not thrifty when it comes to my wardrobe budget. Especially my shoe budget. I take vacations. I buy new cd's. I like to buy people nice presents. I just bought a new car. I buy expensive cheeses and shop at Wild Oats for most of my groceries. See? Not frugal. But I was going over all my financial obligations and necessary expenses in my head yesterday and going over my income and then the state of my bank account. (I really like doing that. Really. It's fun for me. It's like a weird, twisted, fun past-time I have to look over money and account balances and see where it all goes. I know. Weird.) Well, after all was analyzed, my conclusion is: Wow. I saved all that? With all those bills? On my little nonprofit salary? I am an amazing budgeter! I'm like Houdini! It's like the loaves and the fishes all over again! An LDS individual such as myself might also accredit and sing praises to the blessings of tithing. And I think it's true in this case. But I still like to think of myself as an amazing budgeter. It strokes my ego. But the best part is knowing I don't overspend, as it brings great peace and relief to my soul.

5. Male -- he's a boy with ill-timed napping tendencies, yes. But a good friend pointed out that as far as faults go, it could be a lot worse. On the plus side, he's really nice to me. And he calls me all the time and he likes to see me and he always opens my doors and he always tells me what he thinks as opposed to what I would like to hear (even when it would be a REALLY good idea for him to tell me what I want to hear. But at least I always know he's honest). And he's kinda cute. And I have to admit, I'm a lot more of a stable and settled kind of person since he stepped in than I was pre-Male. Much less neurotic. I know, I know. I'm still neurotic. I'm telling you -- I was REALLY neurotic before. Seriously. It wasn't healthy.

6. Music -- Given the right afternoon and a bit of free time and the right mood, the perfect cd in my car while I'm on a drive just makes me soar. Does life get better than that?

7. Airplanes -- I love love love to travel and I can't wait for my next trip. Vegas. Yeah, baby! After that, I have no idea when or where it will be to. But I know I will like it. I actually just got "roped in" to another business trip in July. I say roped in because I've decided I'll be much cooler if I act like I'm "put off" by the "inconvenience" of having to tear myself away from my life to travel for business. We'll pretend I'm cool like that. Ok, maybe not. I'm not fooling anyone. I love traveling, be it for business, pleasure or otherwise. Love it. And when I'm not doing it, I'm probably day dreaming about it. I love airplanes. They're my portal to everywhere I want to be.

8. Good coworkers -- I love good coworkers. And at my current place of employment, I have a few really CRAZY coworkers. These crazy coworkers magnify the fabulousness of the other good coworkers I have by A LOT. I like and appreciate the good ones twenty times more than I did before because of the crazy ones. Funny how that works? Thank heavens for working with people who are fun and helpful to work with.

9. My curly hair -- I don't always wear my hair curly, but I have been a lot lately and I've decided I really like my curly hair. I hate it sometimes when I have a bad hairday. I have very thick hair so as opposed to a person with a thinner head of hair, my bad hair day tends to be a lot BIGGER bunch of bad than they're smaller bunch of bad (im my humble opinion.) But despite these traumatic, large-headed days, I like my hair a lot lately. Maybe it's because I'm getting older and growing to like myself better than I used to. For whatever the reason, I'll take it.

10. My appreciation for basketball -- I actually like to watch basketball. I don't really do it of my own accord very often because I like shopping better, but when persuaded to watch a game, I really enjoy it. Male loves watching basketball and has asked me to watch many games with him over the past few months. I think our relationship would be less fun for me if I didn't actually like watching with him. Or maybe it would be less fun for him because I wouldn't be willing to do it. Either way, I like that it's a non-issue.

I didn't have too many big events or details about this week, but lots of things have struck me that I have been very grateful for, so I wanted to list them. I also updated the Sartorial Freshman as a lot has been happening with the business, so that might be why not a lot of other stuff has happened.

It just so happens that sometimes, rather than having been to a place physically, I feel like I have gone to a very profound spot, worthy of note, inside. Just those little moments where something true rings very loudly and makes you stop and notice for a moment.

Can you date out of obedience, or is it delusion?

So, my lovely sister has committed to atrocity of all atrocities and gotten me addicted to the inevitable show called "Sex and the City." I was watching it the other night, and although not so drastically caught up in the hyperbole of fake life filled with loose if not tenious meetings they like to call relationships, oddly realistic plights, thoughts and provocations usually encountered by individuals involved in relationships much longer than the show projects, and with much more devastating results than those profferred.

Yet, nonetheless, I am intrigued. I watch ritualistically like a ravenous beast eyeing its next feast. And why? Because even though I don't participate in 99% of the relationship activities presented in the show, I pose similar questions to myself, and as such, the question for today.

Can you date out of obedience, or is it delusion?

I pose this question because I often find myself in relationships, (my friends call me a serial "dater") that, well, sometimes I feel I am in them not for myself, but because I feel I am "supposed" to be in them. So, my question is, if you feel some inner drive, ambition, etc., that pushes you to date, or at least stay in a relationship with, a particular individual, that is other than attraction, desire to be with that person, or other seemingly "normative" reason for being in a relationship.

Sometimes I think this is simpy because I am a guy that follows always what he feels he is supposed to do, mostly because I don't trust logic in regards to relationships very often, and other times because it seems that relationships are so much a time and a space for growth and personal development.

If you truly are in to someone, most likely that individual is pushing you in ways that you wouldn't puch yourself. Hopefully exposing you to things that you normally wouldn't search out and explore on your own. Everything from the simple new flavors of ice cream and new types of food, to pushing and exploring personal and emotional barriers. (Hopefully in a helpful, uplifting, and personally strengthening way.)

But, can you date someone, and do dating justice, just by being in the relationship because you feel that you are supposed to be there? Do you miss out on all that yummy relationship goodness because you aren't even considering the notion of making a life with that person?

I have done it, or feel that I have done it, but was it right? was it progressive? Am I somewhere now that I could not have been save I made those previous decisions? Or if not me, is that person somewhere they are now, simply because of hopefully some good that came out of the obedient dating?

For now, I tend to think that you can date out of obedience, mostly because I trust that which I obey. But in the end, it all could be a self delusion leading to nothing more than a self praising denial of insecurity.