How making a tie dye shirt is an exercise in trust

Tie dye renewed my faith in life.

I’m 33 years old and I have never done tie dye.  Last weekend I had and opportunity and I jumped at the chance to do something new and creative.  I had heard that the instructor knew of a method to make a heart, so days before the class I had already decided that a heart was what I was going to make.

The class was chaotic.  It was mixed ages and levels.  You had whining kids chomping at the bit to do tie dye, anxious parents worried about their kids getting dye all over themselves, old timers who were pros at it, sulky teenagers unhappy they were there at all, and then me.  I sat quietly and patiently while the instructor went table to table.  I knew I didn’t want my lesson to be rushed.  I wanted to do it perfectly.  So I waited and my table was the last table she helped.

With me were three overly excited little girls, an overprotective mom, and a preteen that was too cool for school.  The instructor showed us how to do a swirl, bunches, and the heart.  Everyone at my table did theirs in 3 minutes flat.  Except for me.  I took my time.

I lovingly folded and refolded my shirt, meticulously drew the outline of the heart, painstakingly (yet precisely) bunched up the shirt exactly how she showed us.  I carefully tightly wrapped many rubber bands around it and then followed the rest of the directions to the tee.

When I was done and my tie dyed shirt was put in a bag to sit for 24 hours I was elated and excited, and then…the doubt crept in.  I kept looking at the shirt in the bag.  It looked like a bleeding blob of fabric!  I didn’t see the heart.  I didn’t see the beautiful colors I had chosen.  I didn’t see how it could ever be what I hoped it would be.

All I saw was yet another failure. I had done it again and tried too hard to make something beautiful.  And within those 24 hours I had already accepted my fate. I was already making excuses in my mind trying to forgive myself for messing up.  “It was my first time after all.”  “Next time I’ll do better.” “It’ll be okay.”

The next day I rinsed it out and put it in the washing machine.  And when I took it out, I couldn’t believe how beautiful it looked!  It was prettier than I had imagined. Once I was able to try it on, it fit perfectly.  I had done it! I hadn’t failed. My efforts actually paid off!

Tie dye reminded me: don’t doubt myself, trust the process, and…I am not a failure.  Even when things look ugly and that nothing beautiful can come from it…trust that it will be even more wonderful than you can imagine.

Insane in the Membrane!

Crazy insane, got no brain!

Am I falling in love or just losing my mind?  I’m excited, thrilled, and giddy.  Yet at the same time irritable, annoyed, and confused.  It’s all spinning out of control.  Feeling trapped and sucked into a vortex.

I like to think I’m an intelligent person, yet my actions last week say otherwise.  I’ve lost the ability to make wise decisions.  How did this happen to me??  The connectedness feels suffocating and overwhelming.  But when gone, I feel lost and empty.

Help! This is bullshit!

I think I’m going crazay!

~Sonja Braun

Daddy’s Girl

Just what the world needs, another woman with daddy issues.

Is a good man hard to find? Or is it that I just keep picking my fathers over and over again?  I’ve had two fathers in my life: biological and step.  Both have been useless as healthy male role models.

Many of the men in my life have been weak.  Unreliable, unpredictable, flaky.  Irresponsible. Short sighted.  Conditional love: I’ll love you as long as you’re perfect, the moment you’re not (or I get bored), well…you know.  Unforgiving.  Mean.  Taking.  Dismissive. Withholding.  And yet are charming, well spoken, unique.  Peter pan.

Now that I’m aware that I have daddy issues, I worry that I’m jumping at my own shadow.  I see my fathers in every man I meet.  I’m 33 years old, any man I date is going to have some level of baggage, the same way I do.  A divorce/children…what happened? Conditional love? Or on the other end of the spectrum, never been married/no children…Non-committal?

I’d like to get off this rollercoaster.

I heard this saying: A good relationship is when someone accepts your past, supports your present, and encourages your future.  I know as someone with her own baggage, I’d really like to find someone who does all that for me.  Yet I struggle with accepting other people’s pasts.  If they’ve fucked up before, well…

And if I’ve fucked up before, well….

But life is not an algorithm.  And we’re not just robots programmed to keep picking our mothers and fathers.  Are we?

~Sonja Braun

Trials and tribulations of me learning how to flirt Part 1 out of ??

Please don’t judge me!

As I mentioned in an earlier post, some friends have challenged me to start dating.  I’ve done the internet dating thing before, but in my 32 years of living I really haven’t done the bar/club scene except for one year in college.  So I figured, let me try something different as a thirty-something and meet guys in the traditional places.  Amongst my friends I can be the life of the party, but in group settings where there are lots of strangers, I am a wall flower.  So after a few times of going out and being invisible, it dawned on me…I’m going to have to flirt.  This is the story of my first night out “flirting” (if that’s what you want to call it).  I was inspired by a friend to be: outrageous!  And outrageous I was.

It was a Wednesday night in downtown Ft. Lauderdale, Florida and a group of girlfriends and I went out bar hopping.  I gave myself ample time for the outrageousness to build, so it wasn’t until the third bar that I attempted any flirting.  As a side note, I’m not a big drinker, so I was completely sober during the whole night.  And still managed to act a fool!

My girlfriends knew my mission of the night was to flirt with guys and one of my girlfriends, let’s call her “Suzy,” is a master flirter and promised to give me pointers throughout the night.  So we enter the third bar and I really don’t find many of the men attractive.  They’re all the standard meaty college-boy-grew-up-and-still-wears-baseball-caps-backwards type of crowd.  And then… there…across the bar I see HIM.  The only guy in the bar that doesn’t look like every other guy.  He has a mohawk and is tatted out.  I’m not always attracted to the bad boy look but I appreciated the fact that with him in this crowd, I knew I could look away for five minutes, find him again, and not confuse him with ten other guys.

So I turned to Suzy and told her I found a guy I want to flirt with.  She’s so sweet and willing to help, she immediately starts giving me pointers.  As she and I are coming up with a strategy, another one of my friends elbows me and whispers that he’s coming this way.  I look up and there he is!  It turns out one of his friends was just a few feet from us.  I panic!  And think to myself, if I don’t do it now I’m never going to do it.  What on earth does “it” mean? I had no idea, but we were all going to find out together.  Again, please don’t judge me.  I’m still learning.

I grab his arm and loudly declare, “You’re cute!”

It takes him a second to process, and he’s such a nice guy he thanks me and says this never happens to him.  And that I just made his night.

I go on and boldly ask, “You have a girlfriend?”

He says no.  I say, “Perfect!” and then finally ask his name.  But don’t ask me what his name is, the blood was rushing so loudly in my ears that as he and I are conversing I really don’t hear a word he’s saying.  I just keep smiling, nodding my head, and every once in a while punctuate the conversation with, “Oh wow!  That’s so cool!”  After about 5 minutes of crappy one-sided conversation, he finally exits to go meet his friends.  Without asking for my number.

I was crushed!  I had so valiantly braved new territory and was rejected.  I pouted for about five minutes.  Suzy consoled me, reminded me it was my first try and I’ll be ok.  And then I remembered I’m there to flirt not to pout.  And gave myself props for doing something “outrageous”, maybe more accurately “outrageously desperate”, but definitely something new and different which was the purpose of the night.  I cheer up and keep having a good time with my girlfriends.

About 20-30 minutes later a good looking guy, let’s call him “Ryan”, approached me and said he’s been admiring me all night long!  He and I talked and danced for a little while and then before my friends and I left, he asked for my number.  SCORE! Mission accomplished.  I definitely felt like focusing on having fun with my friends instead of pouting was good for the soul and good for the night.

Hold on!  There is an epilogue to this story…

Ryan texts me the very next day telling me how nice it was to meet me, etc. and we chit chat over the next few days via text.  Then Sunday afternoon comes, here are the text messages word for word:

Ryan’s text, “Hey there! How was your weekend?”

My text, “It was great! I had some college buddies visiting.  How was your weekend?”

Ryan’s text, “Good weekend for the most part.  I had to work this weekend so it kind of sucked.  Would have been better if I got to see you :). I should have texted you earlier and invited you over to come hang out at the pool with me.  I was chillin out there by myself”

My text, “Relaxing sounds nice!  I’m actually just getting home from dropping my friends off at the airport.  So I wouldn’t have been able to meet up with you today.  But I’d love to hang out some time.”

Ryan’s text, “Yea we have to set something up soon….. Side note… I do have a girl.  Just wanted to let you know and its not something I was trying to hide from you.”

What?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Don’t worry, I kept it cool.

My text, “Lol! Well then this is the last time we’ll be communicating.  Good luck!”

Ryan’s text, “Understandable”

Jesus Christ!! Really??! Yes, really!  I guess my air of “outrageously desperate” was more desperate than outrageous!  But hey, I had a good night out with friends.  Met some people.  Now have a great story to share.  And most importantly, I’m learning what’s working for me and what’s NOT working for me.  Mission accomplished.

Stay tuned for more adventures.

~Sonja Braun

Tainted love

Do you ever feel as if you love the wrong way?

Or the wrong things? The wrong people?  Somehow it just always feels like there is something inherently wrong about me and love.  It just feels so…unnatural. Strained.

When I was younger I used to think that because I was born with a congenital heart defect, that I was born with a mangled heart.  So that when I loved, it would equally be defective.  Mangled.  Like I needed a surgeon to come in and fix my love.

And now I understand that love doesn’t come from a physical place, but some mystical magical wonderland.  Or God.  Or something.  I don’t know where the fuck it comes from.  It just always feels wrong.  I always feel wrong doing it.  Like I’m soon going to get scolded for doing something bad.

I often feel that those people who are in love are delusional and that it’s just a matter of time before they realize they made it all up.  That it only existed in their heads.  “Love is for suckas.  Don’t get duped!”

But the shit’s not working for me.  Being rational sucks.  I want to be delusional and wrong.  I want to check myself into the insane asylum and join the crazies in howling at the moon.  Luckily I have a nice ass, so it should look good in those gowns with the back open.

Hopefully some of you will come see me during visiting hours.

~Sonja Braun

Tainted love

Do you ever feel as if you love the wrong way?

Or the wrong things? The wrong people?  Somehow it just always feels like there is something inherently wrong about me and love.  It just feels so…unnatural. Strained.

When I was younger I used to think that because I was born with a congenital heart defect, that I was born with a mangled heart.  So that when I loved, it would equally be defective.  Mangled.  Like I needed a surgeon to come in and fix my love.

And now I understand that love doesn’t come from a physical place, but some mystical magical wonderland.  Or God.  Or something.  I don’t know where the fuck it comes from.  It just always feels wrong.  I always feel wrong doing it.  Like I’m soon going to get scolded for doing something bad.

I often feel that those people who are in love are delusional and that it’s just a matter of time before they realize they made it all up.  That it only existed in their heads.  “Love is for suckas.  Don’t get duped!”

But the shit’s not working for me.  Being rational sucks.  I want to be delusional and wrong.  I want to check myself into the insane asylum and join the crazies in howling at the moon.  Luckily I have a nice ass, so it should look good in those gowns with the back open.

Hopefully some of you will come see me during visiting hours.

~Sonja Braun

So…umm…can I talk to you?

We need to talk…

Four little words everyone hates to hear, but everyone needs to say at some point in their lives.  What’s funny about those four little words is they are often associated with break ups, but I’m starting to realize they’re not a sign of an ending, but more of an uncomfortable change.

Change is something most people hate.  Something I hate.  It’s unpredictable, uncontrollable.  If you’re a somewhat successful adult it’s mainly because you’ve mastered the art of control.  You’ve learned that control is your friend, whether it’s controlling yourself or controlling others.

But at some point you realize maintaining the status quo isn’t satisfying, that something is going to have to change.  That you actually want something to change.  And if that something is a relationship with another person, you’re going to have to use those four little words.  You’re going to have to be uncomfortable.

What’s most scary about using those four little words is the person who says it is actually the one that’s most vulnerable.  You wonder to yourself: Should I rock the boat?  Are they going to be mad at me? Am I going to hurt them?  Are they going to lose respect for me?  Will they stop loving me after hearing what I have to say?

And the truth is the answer to many of those questions might be yes.  But if the relationship is important to both parties, it will recover.  And when it does, it’ll be stronger.  Or at least that’s what I tell myself.  Because all I know is hiding from what I really feel hasn’t been working for me.  And that has to change.

I actually want it to change.

~Sonja Braun

I’m thinking of becoming a nun

I’ve been challenged by a group of friends to start dating again.  And as I embark on this adventure, I can’t help but think…I’d be a great nun!

I offer into evidence, my top 10 reasons I should become a nun:

1. I can still help people
2. I won’t have to worry about paying my rent any more
3. I’ll never have to step into a mall and be forced to go shopping ever again
4. I can spend my hours reading
5. I’ll never have to worry about what to wear
6. I can officially be labeled a wild rebel by the Pope
7. I can cloister myself and never have to see people I don’t like ever again
8. I can finally stop waxing
9. I’ll never again have to worry if one of us remembered to bring a condom
10. But most importantly…I won’t have to go on any more dates!!

Now, I’m not quite sure if all of the above can be considered a “calling”, but it might just be good enough for me.  Pray for me everyone!

~Sonja Braun