Monday, February 10, 2014


My evening practices have not gone well. 
I'm just not feeling the love. I swim and quit, start again. 
I'm not out of breath and don't feel overly stressed, 
just lethargic and discouraged.
Even Brian said on one occasion he thought he'd lost me.
I've just wanted to hide in a corner of the pool, 
to have a little pity party.

It has been this way since December; the cold
temperatures made my shoulders achy and stiff.
As I swim I try figure out whether I am stressing myself
just enough to improve or causing injury. 
Instead, I end up trying to not do any damage.
A lot of us have missed quite a bit of practice due to 
weather-related cancellations, so I am not alone.
 I guess what I am doing is just trying to catch up with myself. 
A week ago, I put in a good effort at a Saturday practice 
session and the troubles of the past 
weeks seemed to fall away.

And the psychological games continue.
On Monday, I was rude to someone I love 
and I've felt lousy about it since. The person has been 
nothing but kind to me, but I let myself have my
feelings hurt by another woman's emotional games,
and I took it out on him. There's no explaining to a man
the nightmares that came back to haunt me as I watched
a woman young enough to be our daughter tossing her 
fanny around for the benefit of a man I like.

I grew up watching as other girls flirted with, dated,
and married boys I'd liked. I never knew how to play
their games. I wasn't pretty and didn't have
the lines of chat they did. I retreated into my books
and artwork, knowing there was probably
never going to be a similar scenario for me.
So many years later, while all logic and reason tells me
differently, the pain came back almost as
sharply as it did back then, and I allowed myself
to be manipulated by her games.

I've since apologized to the man, but somehow
I felt as though it was not enough. I think he was more
hurt than he let on. I keep telling myself that things will work out
the way I want them just as long as I keep working hard
 in the pool, make nice drawings and paintings, 
take decent pictures, and continue to find ways to become
a decent writer. In the meanwhile, I've learned
that one keeps learning hard lessons every day, and I hope
I can learn them without hurting people I care about.


  1. Speaking of becoming a good writer, I liked your original title better.

    1. I like the other title, too, As a couple people have pointed out, however, I am no longer a manatee but becoming more like one of the seals. Now I look more like a Shar Pei. I just couldn't think of a title that worked with it.

  2. I know that you are not a manatee any more (except that the current post indicates that you feel like one lately), but are well on your way to becoming a seal yourself, but the blog is the story of your journey. It seems sad to eliminate the beginning Maybe, as you pass through stages of various aquatic animals, walrus (not the big guys, the lady walruses), dolphin, beaver (amazing swimmers as well as architects), on your way to seal (maybe some day, otter?) the title could adjust. But George Clooney, puleez!