Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
A year ago today Grandma Joanne was in the hospital. In about 15 hours, it will have been a year since she died with no one but a nurse holding her hand. (I still don't know who that nurse was, but someday, I would like to tell him how wonderful I think he is for staying with her.) I thought that by now, I would have dealt with more of this. There are times when I feel like I have, but there are also times where it hits me out of no where, like a heavy weight on my chest. Thanksgiving was hard. A year ago on Thanksgiving I was blocks away from her. No one answered the phone when I called so I gave up. I should have gone over there. I should have been there. I should have asked my mom how else to get a hold of her live-in partner/caretaker. But I didn't. I tried once and I gave up. At least she wouldn't have been so alone if I had done something more.
The man held responsible just got out of jail and is playing games on facebook. Why this is sticking in my head, I couldn't tell you. What else he is doing, I don't know. But knowing he is out is enough to keep me thinking twice about visiting the rest of my family over there. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him because I am more angry than I even realize and am afraid of what I would say or do. I don't want to see him because I am afraid of him and what he would say or do. I don't want to go because I am tired of hearing other people's opinions of him, of my grandmother, of the whole situation. I don't put all the blame on him entirely, I feel he is responsible for most of it, but not all. And I try to give respect and the benefit of the doubt. I have to believe that it is possible for good to exist in bad situations. But this by no means makes it ok for people to tell me what a wonderful person he is and how he could not have played any part in her death. It's still too raw.
I miss her.
The man held responsible just got out of jail and is playing games on facebook. Why this is sticking in my head, I couldn't tell you. What else he is doing, I don't know. But knowing he is out is enough to keep me thinking twice about visiting the rest of my family over there. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him because I am more angry than I even realize and am afraid of what I would say or do. I don't want to see him because I am afraid of him and what he would say or do. I don't want to go because I am tired of hearing other people's opinions of him, of my grandmother, of the whole situation. I don't put all the blame on him entirely, I feel he is responsible for most of it, but not all. And I try to give respect and the benefit of the doubt. I have to believe that it is possible for good to exist in bad situations. But this by no means makes it ok for people to tell me what a wonderful person he is and how he could not have played any part in her death. It's still too raw.
I miss her.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Dear Universe
Dear Universe,
Generally I try not complain about my problems because I KNOW I could have it a lot worse, and I am incredibly grateful for what I do have. But at this moment, I am finding it hard to breath my way through this and see the other side. I feel so stuck and I can't see a way out. I feel like crap for the way I have unintentionally made people feel, and am frustrated that in taking care of myself and my child, I just make it worse. I know that every little step is a good thing, but I am ready to be able to take some big steps too. I am tired of being so broke, I am tired of debt, and I am tired of feeling like a failure. I know I sound like a whiny baby right now, but it would be really nice to feel financially stable at some point in my life.
Thank you for listening to me gripe, and for all the blessings in my life.
Generally I try not complain about my problems because I KNOW I could have it a lot worse, and I am incredibly grateful for what I do have. But at this moment, I am finding it hard to breath my way through this and see the other side. I feel so stuck and I can't see a way out. I feel like crap for the way I have unintentionally made people feel, and am frustrated that in taking care of myself and my child, I just make it worse. I know that every little step is a good thing, but I am ready to be able to take some big steps too. I am tired of being so broke, I am tired of debt, and I am tired of feeling like a failure. I know I sound like a whiny baby right now, but it would be really nice to feel financially stable at some point in my life.
Thank you for listening to me gripe, and for all the blessings in my life.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Snow days and growing up
Something about waking up to the hush that comes about on a snowy morning turns me into a giddy 8 year old inside. I love it. Not that I rush right out and jump in it like I used to. Being older and crabby about getting cold and wet gets in the way. (What is it about getting older that makes us more susceptible to the weather extremes?) I did however get up at 6:30 and take my dog out. It is endlessly amusing to watch a stubby legged dog try and come to terms with the cold, wet, sticking to his legs quality of snow. (It is also a lot harder to pick up after your pet in the snow, especially when it's still dark outside, because it melts down into the snow and you have to plunge your hand in after it.)
The other amusing thing about waking up to snow that wasn't there the night before is not the sounds of delight emanating from the neighbor kids outside, but the flood of texts I got from grown people exclaiming and heralding the snow. Some from co-workers out of joy for an unexpected day off. Others from people whom I would have expected to be asleep talking about wishes for snow coming true. My mother called what feels like 8 or 9 times to check on us. (In reality it was only twice I think, and both times she had other reasons for calling but still. "Did you see the snow!?") I sat and watched the snow on my back porch very early this morning and drank some tea and realized that I must be at least a little more grown up that I used to be because when I was a child, I would look at it and think "Well, I don't know about all the beauty crap the adults are talking about, but it's going to need to snow a lot more before there is enough for the snow fort!" Now that I am considered an adult I look at the snow and think to myself how beautiful it is. And THEN consider forts, snow ball fights and snow angels.
Facebook statuses are primarily about snow, hot chocolate, and maybe a few gripes about having to work in it. I heard my neighbor upstairs singing a song about the joy of snow days while her children chanted for hot chocolate. I may or may not have thrown a snow ball or two at the kids outside, and may or may not have thrown some at my dog just to watch him run wild in confusion and joy.
It may be less than an inch on the ground, and it may be almost entirely gone by noon, but I love that something so simple can elicit so much joy in people.
The other amusing thing about waking up to snow that wasn't there the night before is not the sounds of delight emanating from the neighbor kids outside, but the flood of texts I got from grown people exclaiming and heralding the snow. Some from co-workers out of joy for an unexpected day off. Others from people whom I would have expected to be asleep talking about wishes for snow coming true. My mother called what feels like 8 or 9 times to check on us. (In reality it was only twice I think, and both times she had other reasons for calling but still. "Did you see the snow!?") I sat and watched the snow on my back porch very early this morning and drank some tea and realized that I must be at least a little more grown up that I used to be because when I was a child, I would look at it and think "Well, I don't know about all the beauty crap the adults are talking about, but it's going to need to snow a lot more before there is enough for the snow fort!" Now that I am considered an adult I look at the snow and think to myself how beautiful it is. And THEN consider forts, snow ball fights and snow angels.
Facebook statuses are primarily about snow, hot chocolate, and maybe a few gripes about having to work in it. I heard my neighbor upstairs singing a song about the joy of snow days while her children chanted for hot chocolate. I may or may not have thrown a snow ball or two at the kids outside, and may or may not have thrown some at my dog just to watch him run wild in confusion and joy.
It may be less than an inch on the ground, and it may be almost entirely gone by noon, but I love that something so simple can elicit so much joy in people.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
So that last post, the one about staying home all day? I still mean every word of it.
But.
I have been sick for a little over 24 hours and it's driving me crazy being stuck here with all my clutter. I have cabin fever in the worst sort of way. Contributing to this is a sense of feeling like I am still in my early 20's and just left home when I look around and notice that NOTHING in my house matches. Usually, I don't really care, but there is something that instills a sense of comfort and home when you actually put forth effort to make your home your own.
So here I sit, surrounded by too much stuff. Most of it stuff that I took because someone was offering it to me. Not because I need it. I didn't need the hide-a-bed couch, because my living room isn't big enough for two couches. I struggle with clutter a lot. It is my biggest challenge. Some of it is sentimental clutter and tied to emotional issues inside of me that I continue to work through every day. Some of it makes me feel like bad mom for not wanting to keep it around. Some of it is still there out of a lack of motivation and presence of never-endings ways to distract myself. I am so ready to be done with it. So. Once I get better. My winter mission is to make my home more of my own. Get rid of the couch. Get some shelves to organize some necessary stuff, and get rid of the things that when I look at, I am instantly drained by a sense of obligation or just frustrated by it's presence.
Not that I put much stock in appearing as an adult, but it would be nice to have a little more ownership over my space.
And to reward myself? Dinner party!
But.
I have been sick for a little over 24 hours and it's driving me crazy being stuck here with all my clutter. I have cabin fever in the worst sort of way. Contributing to this is a sense of feeling like I am still in my early 20's and just left home when I look around and notice that NOTHING in my house matches. Usually, I don't really care, but there is something that instills a sense of comfort and home when you actually put forth effort to make your home your own.
So here I sit, surrounded by too much stuff. Most of it stuff that I took because someone was offering it to me. Not because I need it. I didn't need the hide-a-bed couch, because my living room isn't big enough for two couches. I struggle with clutter a lot. It is my biggest challenge. Some of it is sentimental clutter and tied to emotional issues inside of me that I continue to work through every day. Some of it makes me feel like bad mom for not wanting to keep it around. Some of it is still there out of a lack of motivation and presence of never-endings ways to distract myself. I am so ready to be done with it. So. Once I get better. My winter mission is to make my home more of my own. Get rid of the couch. Get some shelves to organize some necessary stuff, and get rid of the things that when I look at, I am instantly drained by a sense of obligation or just frustrated by it's presence.
Not that I put much stock in appearing as an adult, but it would be nice to have a little more ownership over my space.
And to reward myself? Dinner party!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Every winter, the days become dark and gray, the world outside my home is under constant assault of Oregon's indecisive weather, and I mentally and emotionally crawl inside of myself. Without fail, every year when this time rolls around, as I trudge out of bed and off to the obligations the day brings, all I really want to do is stay home in my warm, comfortable house, drink tea, make art, read books and cook good food. I love it.
And I think that maybe it's a little odd for someone who has a tendency to get suffocated pretty quickly in situations, relationships, jobs, friendships and anything else that I would be so completely happy at the prospect of holing up inside of myself, inside of my apartment. But I can't help it. I love spending the day moving from project to project as my attention or desire wanders. I love the smell of baking, and beeswax candles that burn all day. I love taking my time.
And I think that is really what it comes down to. A craving for time. It is a luxury to be able to wander as I please. The world around me naturally goes to sleep during the winter months, it's a natural inclination to slow down that drives me to shut out the rest of the world and just be with myself for a bit.
For years I have felt that in someway, it is selfish or strange or unacceptable for me to do that. But this year I am practicing radical self care and have decided to honor that need inside of me instead of fight it. While I may not be able to sleep until I am ready to open my eyes everyday, the fact that I know I have carved out time in my life to be able to do this SOMETIMES is rejuvenating and feels awesome. I have already noticed a huge difference as I do this. Instead of feeling at odds with the world around me and that incredible stress that plagues a lot of people this time of year, I have a quiet sense of peace at my core.
And with that, it is time to take cinnamon rolls out of the oven, and pick out yarn from my stash for that new scarf I have been wanting to try my hand at crocheting.
Happy Sunday.
And I think that maybe it's a little odd for someone who has a tendency to get suffocated pretty quickly in situations, relationships, jobs, friendships and anything else that I would be so completely happy at the prospect of holing up inside of myself, inside of my apartment. But I can't help it. I love spending the day moving from project to project as my attention or desire wanders. I love the smell of baking, and beeswax candles that burn all day. I love taking my time.
And I think that is really what it comes down to. A craving for time. It is a luxury to be able to wander as I please. The world around me naturally goes to sleep during the winter months, it's a natural inclination to slow down that drives me to shut out the rest of the world and just be with myself for a bit.
For years I have felt that in someway, it is selfish or strange or unacceptable for me to do that. But this year I am practicing radical self care and have decided to honor that need inside of me instead of fight it. While I may not be able to sleep until I am ready to open my eyes everyday, the fact that I know I have carved out time in my life to be able to do this SOMETIMES is rejuvenating and feels awesome. I have already noticed a huge difference as I do this. Instead of feeling at odds with the world around me and that incredible stress that plagues a lot of people this time of year, I have a quiet sense of peace at my core.
And with that, it is time to take cinnamon rolls out of the oven, and pick out yarn from my stash for that new scarf I have been wanting to try my hand at crocheting.
Happy Sunday.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Things from kindergarten that are more useful now than they used to be #5439
Sticker charts.
I mean, really. How many balls can one person expect to juggle without one of them dropping? A day planner no longer cuts it. There are so many little things daily that I would like to accomplish, and writing them all in my day planner, for every day of the week, every week, all year would be a pain in the ass.
SO I am going to make myself a sticker chart. Because, nothing beats that silly drive inside of me to see how great I am written down on paper. What will be going on my sticker chart? Simple stuff that aren't ingrained as routine, such as taking my multi-vitamin (mom will be so proud!), leaving no un-rinsed dishes in the sink, eating gluten-free (bonus points for sugar free maybe?), and giving myself ten minutes at the beginning and end of the day to myself.
Is it weird that I am ridiculously excited about this?
I mean, really. How many balls can one person expect to juggle without one of them dropping? A day planner no longer cuts it. There are so many little things daily that I would like to accomplish, and writing them all in my day planner, for every day of the week, every week, all year would be a pain in the ass.
SO I am going to make myself a sticker chart. Because, nothing beats that silly drive inside of me to see how great I am written down on paper. What will be going on my sticker chart? Simple stuff that aren't ingrained as routine, such as taking my multi-vitamin (mom will be so proud!), leaving no un-rinsed dishes in the sink, eating gluten-free (bonus points for sugar free maybe?), and giving myself ten minutes at the beginning and end of the day to myself.
Is it weird that I am ridiculously excited about this?
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Remembering
Sometimes I forget. I forget the pain, the sadness and the anger that my family evokes deep within me. Most of the time I don't. Sometimes I forget the amusement I oddly enough find in our dysfunction. Most people will say they have dysfunctional families, but mine takes the cake. It goes so far beyond embarrassing, weird and sad that I actually laugh at it. What I always fail to remember is how very good it feels to sit with someone who understands. Who can laugh with me and not just because it's so ridiculous that there is no other way left to react, but because she understands, she has experienced it. SHE KNOWS. There is something that brings about a sense of peace deep within me when I am able to spend my time with someone who doesn't listen or speak of it out of sympathy, but as a way to remember our shared history.
My cousin was here last week and words cannot describe how very amazing it was to see her. We have not seen each other in 12 years, and I could probably count on one hand how many times we have seen each other in person. We do not talk often. But despite that, we have this weird, freaky cousin sense. We are a little over 9 months apart in age, our children are exactly nine months apart in age. We begin and end relationships with similar people at roughly the same time, with people that came into our lives through similar paths. We seem to have rough spells at similar times, and after talking about our parenting experiences, parts of it are eerily similar. A friend of mine who got to meet her said it was like looking at a shorter, more blunt version of me. Five days was nowhere near long enough.
I have spent so much of my life trying to let go or forget a large part of my fathers family that I forget how very much I love and cherish some of them. Why does it have to be the part so damn far away? Having Katie here reminded me how even in the parts of life that I have deemed painful, there is beauty and love, and something to cherish. And, she is just too awesome for words. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful people in my life.
My cousin was here last week and words cannot describe how very amazing it was to see her. We have not seen each other in 12 years, and I could probably count on one hand how many times we have seen each other in person. We do not talk often. But despite that, we have this weird, freaky cousin sense. We are a little over 9 months apart in age, our children are exactly nine months apart in age. We begin and end relationships with similar people at roughly the same time, with people that came into our lives through similar paths. We seem to have rough spells at similar times, and after talking about our parenting experiences, parts of it are eerily similar. A friend of mine who got to meet her said it was like looking at a shorter, more blunt version of me. Five days was nowhere near long enough.
I have spent so much of my life trying to let go or forget a large part of my fathers family that I forget how very much I love and cherish some of them. Why does it have to be the part so damn far away? Having Katie here reminded me how even in the parts of life that I have deemed painful, there is beauty and love, and something to cherish. And, she is just too awesome for words. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful people in my life.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
I love this time of year. I love the smell and sound of rain, I love the cool temperatures, I love the seasonal food coming available. I love the natural inclination to reflect. I love that this all coincides with my birthday, a logical time to reflect, with a season that is symbolic of certain things coming to an end and other new beginnings.
Today I am all by myself at home. In my yoga pants and sweatshirt, drinking tea and slowly doing some house work. The last week has been a stressful one, but has brought about some much needed change and questions. I ended a professional relationship with a client, which at first brought tremendous feelings of failure and guilt, but when settled in with, brought a huge sense of relief. I love being a health coach, but I need to refocus myself a but, and refine exactly who and how I want to help. It was my first full week at the part time job I took working with children. It was wonderful and tiring. I am not used to having to be up and presentable and at work by 7am. That is a dreadfully early time for me and my mind/body, which is part of the appeal of being self employed. But I love the people I work with and for, I love that I get paid to remember how to play and I love that it will provide some financial stability while I wade through this professional swamp I put myself in the middle of. Most of all, I love that I am off work in time to pick up Em from school and spend my afternoons with her. But, after a full week of it, I am exhausted.
All of the stress and change and changing of my mind left me in a bit of a funk the last few weeks. Well, more than just a bit of a funk, in a huge funk. But Friday came and found me ready to float out of it. My work day brought me laughter, my afternoon brought me some time to myself to organize my surroundings physically in order to make space mentally, and my evening brought me the company of a wonderful person who reminded me how to feel joyful about who I am. And to feel pretty. (I am comfortable enough now to be ok admitting that I like to feel pretty.)
My birthday is in a few weeks, and while turning 29 does not usually lead to a lot of re-evaluation and contemplation as 30 does in most people, I find myself spending a lot of time the last few days looking back at what I had expected to do with my 20's, and where I anticipated being as I stepped into my 30's. On the whole, I am not too upset with where I am, I am happy with my life. I think most of all, I am craving certain kinds of stability. None of this is new, but it is on my mind. Financial stability is something I continue to work towards, and probably always will because it doesn't seem a wise thing to just shirk that off. But also, stability that comes along with a solid community of people. Yes, I have my church community, my friends, but when I look at all the people dearest to my heart, they are scattered across the globe like seeds to the wind. I have started to focus a lot more on my immediate community, and working on finding people here, now, that feel like good people to align with, to care for, to laugh with, and to love.
As my daughter continues to grow, being a mom is an incredible gift. I enjoy her so much more than I think I ever thoughts parents could. Is that weird? That I thought that? Seeing her make her bold statements to the world around her inspires me to be more courageous and confident.
Yes, there are things I would like to change, to overcome, to repair. But as I look back on the last year of my life, I can say with confidence that this is the first time in my life that my problems and my stress don't encompass all of me. They don't define me, they don't rule my moods and decisions as much as they used to, and they don't sap my happiness. I am happy. And I love that.
I know I say this a lot, but it is so very true. I have a blessed life.
Today I am all by myself at home. In my yoga pants and sweatshirt, drinking tea and slowly doing some house work. The last week has been a stressful one, but has brought about some much needed change and questions. I ended a professional relationship with a client, which at first brought tremendous feelings of failure and guilt, but when settled in with, brought a huge sense of relief. I love being a health coach, but I need to refocus myself a but, and refine exactly who and how I want to help. It was my first full week at the part time job I took working with children. It was wonderful and tiring. I am not used to having to be up and presentable and at work by 7am. That is a dreadfully early time for me and my mind/body, which is part of the appeal of being self employed. But I love the people I work with and for, I love that I get paid to remember how to play and I love that it will provide some financial stability while I wade through this professional swamp I put myself in the middle of. Most of all, I love that I am off work in time to pick up Em from school and spend my afternoons with her. But, after a full week of it, I am exhausted.
All of the stress and change and changing of my mind left me in a bit of a funk the last few weeks. Well, more than just a bit of a funk, in a huge funk. But Friday came and found me ready to float out of it. My work day brought me laughter, my afternoon brought me some time to myself to organize my surroundings physically in order to make space mentally, and my evening brought me the company of a wonderful person who reminded me how to feel joyful about who I am. And to feel pretty. (I am comfortable enough now to be ok admitting that I like to feel pretty.)
My birthday is in a few weeks, and while turning 29 does not usually lead to a lot of re-evaluation and contemplation as 30 does in most people, I find myself spending a lot of time the last few days looking back at what I had expected to do with my 20's, and where I anticipated being as I stepped into my 30's. On the whole, I am not too upset with where I am, I am happy with my life. I think most of all, I am craving certain kinds of stability. None of this is new, but it is on my mind. Financial stability is something I continue to work towards, and probably always will because it doesn't seem a wise thing to just shirk that off. But also, stability that comes along with a solid community of people. Yes, I have my church community, my friends, but when I look at all the people dearest to my heart, they are scattered across the globe like seeds to the wind. I have started to focus a lot more on my immediate community, and working on finding people here, now, that feel like good people to align with, to care for, to laugh with, and to love.
As my daughter continues to grow, being a mom is an incredible gift. I enjoy her so much more than I think I ever thoughts parents could. Is that weird? That I thought that? Seeing her make her bold statements to the world around her inspires me to be more courageous and confident.
Yes, there are things I would like to change, to overcome, to repair. But as I look back on the last year of my life, I can say with confidence that this is the first time in my life that my problems and my stress don't encompass all of me. They don't define me, they don't rule my moods and decisions as much as they used to, and they don't sap my happiness. I am happy. And I love that.
I know I say this a lot, but it is so very true. I have a blessed life.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Best friends are awesome. They listen to you go on and on about a new someone in your life. They drive impossible distances to come and see you. They help with whatever they can. They make your kid laugh that deep, contagious laugh. And they stay up late watching ridiculous tv shows with you.
Children are awesome. They snuggle up to you to remind you of how much love there is in life and how very blessed life is. They laugh in a way that drains stress out of your day in two seconds. They smell good, even when they smell bad. And they make all the struggle worth it.
I am feeling blessed in life right about now.
Children are awesome. They snuggle up to you to remind you of how much love there is in life and how very blessed life is. They laugh in a way that drains stress out of your day in two seconds. They smell good, even when they smell bad. And they make all the struggle worth it.
I am feeling blessed in life right about now.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Another reason to not have more kids: Camping
Sometimes I get these Super-Mom-like notions in my head of what would be a really great idea. Like this one: gosh, it would be so fun to take Emily camping with friend-of-her-choice for a WHOLE weekend on the coast, AND take the dog.
Not that it wasn't fun, the girls were super stars, and earned all three levels of the Junior Ranger program thing they do at state parks here in Oregon. We swam, we hiked, we played, we sang, we laughed, we ate our body weight in s'mores. But, ohmygosh. Something about the dull, stuck inside-ness of the winter must have washed out of my working memory how very difficult it is to camp sometimes with children. Or, let me say, how difficult it is to camp the way I LIKE to, when there are children. That is not to say it's not fun, it's just....work.
Something in little girls clicks at the age of 6 and suddenly getting along and being nice isn't cool. What's cool now I guess is this snotty, pretend we are teenagers with more cool "stuff" than you game that drives me up the wall and tears my heart into a million pieces all at once. It hurts to watch this mean, competitive backstabbing attitude become the social norm in my sweet little girl. Watching the pain in her eyes at points during the frantic "Oh yeah? My limo has..." just kills me. Can't we all just get along? I remember not liking most females growing up, but I don't remember it starting this young, or being so...materialistic and vicious.
The amount of dirt that works it's way into every crevice of all people and equipment grows exponentially with each living being that is present, or so it feels like. Also, I take my child for granted. Not every child has such a respectful curiosity for nature. Some children, for instance, seem to have this kill it/eat it situation where if you can't become intimate with it, it's scary/gross/poisonous or all of the above and must cease to live or exist. This also reminds me that when the dog relaxes a bit, there are several patches of unidentified goo that need to be picked off or cut out of his fur.
My dog, bless his little soul, is not a camping dog. I have gained pounds of guilt for every instance I glanced at him, shivering and shaking and looking at me with that pitiful "WWWHHHYYYYY do you have be tethered to something like this in this cold, cold place with all of these people and dogs I can't play with" look. He would nearly jump for joy (as much as his stubbiness allows for at least) when we crawled into the tent for the night and would whine until someone let him crawl to the bottom of a sleeping bag where he could finally cuddle up to someone and be loved and warm.
This morning the bickering came to a head when the girls were arguing over which of the *identical* camping chairs they got to sit in. I moved them to opposite sides of the campsite, and for the first time in three days, had some quiet. And it came to me...as much as I love children, other people's children really get to me sometimes. I can work with them yes, but when they are a part of my family for days at a time, I become someone I don't know that I like. I don't like the way they chew, or the nickname they have given my daughter, I don't like the tone of their voice when they are picking on my kid, or the way they pick their nose and eat it. When they roll all over everyone's bed buck naked, I am surprisingly grossed out. I hate when they ask my kid if her mom and dad ever have sex because it opens a door that no one is really ready to explore. It drives me batty when they burp as loud as they can in my ear and I can smell it, when they make farting and pooping and peeing noises, and when they ask to hold my dog's leash only to yank on it so hard it sends him into a coughing fit. And then, when they say I am the best cooker ever and give me a hug I feel like the worst person ever for thinking or feeling all those things and nearly cry out of guilt. Is this any easier when there is another parent there? Who knows. I don't.
We got home, dropped of the Friend and unloaded. We showered the grime off (why is it that scrubbing the shower can take 45 minutes to get it clean and then 7 minutes of showering renders it worthy of a pig-sty?) and Emily looked up at me as we were watching a movie and said "Momma, I really just want to lay in bed and snuggle and have 5 minutes where it's just me and you. Camping was fun, but I wish it was just you and I, even though I wanted her to come with us. I miss you."
*tear*
So we climbed into bed, and promptly feel into a cuddled-induced sleep for almost three hours.
I will now be spending the rest of my night on the quiet porch, with a glass of ginger ale, and nothing but my thoughts.
Or the latest episode of True Blood and a friend. We'll see.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
There are times in my life where the words seems to flow endlessly out of me. Onto paper, into a computer, into someone else, into the air. They never stop. An endless train of consciousness or something like it. An incessant need to try and relate the experience of life in words that never seem to do it justice.
And then there are times when even if I try, no words will come because the emotion has welled up so intensely that the words fall away and all I need is to sit and feel. To observe. To witness. To be. It is in moments like these that my mind stops and my hearts bursts with gratefulness and joy for all that I have been given. Even the struggles are blessings in moments like these.
Summer is passing so quickly. One snapshot after the other in my mind of life the last few months. Emily is growing so fast. She now reads some of the bedtime story, and has lost her first two teeth recently. We have been spending a lot of time at the park playing, and by we, I mean her and her friends. I am the mom sitting on the bench realizing how fast my daughter is hurtling towards the point of not needing me as much as I need her. I find joy in her confidence in life, mingled with a little sadness that I couldn't have slowed it all down and enjoyed it more.
I worry about my mother more and more all the time. And my father. It's funny and discomforting to watch the process as you grow of your parents going from all-knowing, protecting giants to smaller, weaker, more insecure individuals. My father took that fall a lot faster in my eyes than my mom, and for very different, self-created reasons. But my mom, life has battered up and down and she is still there, still treading or moving on. Whether she's smiling or crying she is still living and moving and working towards a better life. I am proud of her. But it's an odd sensation to be on the side of life where I no longer expect shelter from her regardless of my struggles and also feel compelled to shelter and protect her.
I have amazing people in my life, and my mother is among the most amazing. Someday, I will write about her life.
Life is surrounding me with love. Friends that do stupid things just to see me smile, who drive impossible distances to eat ice cream on my couch and color with crayons, friends who throw aside their "adult maturity and pride" to watch stupid movies with me, friends who support me however I may need it in the blink of an eye and unquestioningly. And most recently, a man who will drive over in the middle of the night and bring me ice cream and sit up with me after I have eaten something I am allergic to, just so I don't panic about being alone if something really bad happens, who tells me how incredible he thinks I am, and who will do goofy things with me just for the sake of being silly and assinine.
I am working with my first client, and it's very awesome. Some Great Spirit is throwing me spiritual experiences left and right to pry open my eyes, my heart, my mind. My dog intuitively knows when to cuddle and when to give me space. My kitchen is full of food, my house is full of love.
Life is SO very good.
And then there are times when even if I try, no words will come because the emotion has welled up so intensely that the words fall away and all I need is to sit and feel. To observe. To witness. To be. It is in moments like these that my mind stops and my hearts bursts with gratefulness and joy for all that I have been given. Even the struggles are blessings in moments like these.
Summer is passing so quickly. One snapshot after the other in my mind of life the last few months. Emily is growing so fast. She now reads some of the bedtime story, and has lost her first two teeth recently. We have been spending a lot of time at the park playing, and by we, I mean her and her friends. I am the mom sitting on the bench realizing how fast my daughter is hurtling towards the point of not needing me as much as I need her. I find joy in her confidence in life, mingled with a little sadness that I couldn't have slowed it all down and enjoyed it more.
I worry about my mother more and more all the time. And my father. It's funny and discomforting to watch the process as you grow of your parents going from all-knowing, protecting giants to smaller, weaker, more insecure individuals. My father took that fall a lot faster in my eyes than my mom, and for very different, self-created reasons. But my mom, life has battered up and down and she is still there, still treading or moving on. Whether she's smiling or crying she is still living and moving and working towards a better life. I am proud of her. But it's an odd sensation to be on the side of life where I no longer expect shelter from her regardless of my struggles and also feel compelled to shelter and protect her.
I have amazing people in my life, and my mother is among the most amazing. Someday, I will write about her life.
Life is surrounding me with love. Friends that do stupid things just to see me smile, who drive impossible distances to eat ice cream on my couch and color with crayons, friends who throw aside their "adult maturity and pride" to watch stupid movies with me, friends who support me however I may need it in the blink of an eye and unquestioningly. And most recently, a man who will drive over in the middle of the night and bring me ice cream and sit up with me after I have eaten something I am allergic to, just so I don't panic about being alone if something really bad happens, who tells me how incredible he thinks I am, and who will do goofy things with me just for the sake of being silly and assinine.
I am working with my first client, and it's very awesome. Some Great Spirit is throwing me spiritual experiences left and right to pry open my eyes, my heart, my mind. My dog intuitively knows when to cuddle and when to give me space. My kitchen is full of food, my house is full of love.
Life is SO very good.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Growing up FTW!
I recently ran into someone I went to high school with and it was nice in a nostalgic "oh yeah, your one of the ones I liked" kind of way. As we were catching up, he lamented "Man, we are getting old!"
Ok, first off, no, we aren't. We are OLDER, but if you feel old at 28, I have this nice little health coaching business to help you out...
And second, I have discovered that I LOVE "getting old". Here is why:
-There is a self-confidence that has crept in with age and life experience that is really comforting. Or maybe it is just that over time, I care less and less what other people think? Either way, it's grand.
-Insurance discounts that kicked in once I turned 25. What is it about 25 that dictates I am suddenly mature and responsible enough to not have to pay as much for car insurance?
-I have found that it's ok to embrace the parts of me I was told (whether overtly or not) were negative, or bad, or just not acceptable. Such as: I enjoy sex and being a sexual person; I love to be a reclusive, gluttonous sloth when I need to unwind; I no longer feel the need to commit myself to something just because it is something I *could* do; sometimes I enjoy really crappy literature; I don't like some people and feel no need to go out of my way to be nice to the really offensive ones; and there is nothing quite as satisfying as sitting on the couch in my underwear while watching an old movie and eating ice cream straight out of the carton (I can see my mother cringing right now).
-I don't care if I can't dance up to par with other people's standards anymore, it feels good.
-While it is somewhat of an ego-boost to get hit on in the bar, instead of internalizing it as a sign of my worth, I merely take it as a compliment. It neither makes or breaks my night in it's absence or presence.
-I no longer automatically register the things my mom tells me are good for me as solid gold fact, but take the time to do my own research and decide whether it really is good and right for me. (No, I don't feel like crap after eating too many nightshades.) (AAAND, eating too much of anything can make almost anyone feel like crap.)
-I like that the older my actual age is, the more people assume I am not, in fact, a mindless girl. And I like that I receive less condescending BS from people.
-As I age, I find my voice more and more. I like being a mouthy, opinionated woman who is ok making my needs known.
-I take care of myself in ways that work for me and feel right to me, because I *want* to be a healthy person, not because someone else is telling me that it's good for me.
All this being said, I still like being taken care of when I get sick, I still laugh at fart jokes, and I still have my teddy bear. And I am more than ok with all of the above.
Ok, first off, no, we aren't. We are OLDER, but if you feel old at 28, I have this nice little health coaching business to help you out...
And second, I have discovered that I LOVE "getting old". Here is why:
-There is a self-confidence that has crept in with age and life experience that is really comforting. Or maybe it is just that over time, I care less and less what other people think? Either way, it's grand.
-Insurance discounts that kicked in once I turned 25. What is it about 25 that dictates I am suddenly mature and responsible enough to not have to pay as much for car insurance?
-I have found that it's ok to embrace the parts of me I was told (whether overtly or not) were negative, or bad, or just not acceptable. Such as: I enjoy sex and being a sexual person; I love to be a reclusive, gluttonous sloth when I need to unwind; I no longer feel the need to commit myself to something just because it is something I *could* do; sometimes I enjoy really crappy literature; I don't like some people and feel no need to go out of my way to be nice to the really offensive ones; and there is nothing quite as satisfying as sitting on the couch in my underwear while watching an old movie and eating ice cream straight out of the carton (I can see my mother cringing right now).
-I don't care if I can't dance up to par with other people's standards anymore, it feels good.
-While it is somewhat of an ego-boost to get hit on in the bar, instead of internalizing it as a sign of my worth, I merely take it as a compliment. It neither makes or breaks my night in it's absence or presence.
-I no longer automatically register the things my mom tells me are good for me as solid gold fact, but take the time to do my own research and decide whether it really is good and right for me. (No, I don't feel like crap after eating too many nightshades.) (AAAND, eating too much of anything can make almost anyone feel like crap.)
-I like that the older my actual age is, the more people assume I am not, in fact, a mindless girl. And I like that I receive less condescending BS from people.
-As I age, I find my voice more and more. I like being a mouthy, opinionated woman who is ok making my needs known.
-I take care of myself in ways that work for me and feel right to me, because I *want* to be a healthy person, not because someone else is telling me that it's good for me.
All this being said, I still like being taken care of when I get sick, I still laugh at fart jokes, and I still have my teddy bear. And I am more than ok with all of the above.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Are fixed dogs supposed to be this horny?
Because mine is. Seriously. Every night upon following us into the bedroom for bed he has a little humping session with his doggie bed. The other night when the Boy was over and playing music on his guitar for me (*swoon*), he started humping his toy. My mom was petting him the other day and he started humping her leg. He humped my daughter's stuffed cat yesterday. He licks himself and humps the air.
This is getting ridiculous.
This is getting ridiculous.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Knowledge is power but sometimes, it's scary
Normally, I don't write about my struggles with anxiety, but today, I am going to. I am sitting here staring at the computer and waiting for a nurse to call my back before I take these drugs. I have a kidney infection. How it advanced from bladder to kidney without me feeling ANYTHING, I have no idea. How I got it, I have no idea. All I know is that I have one. And ya know, it can kinda be a big deal if it goes untreated. So I go to pick up the meds they prescribed and with it came three pages of fine print warnings about side effects. Scary things like nerve damage and bursting tendons.
**an hour later**
This is the part where I admit that upon reading that I turned into a complete basket case. I called my mom, because no matter how unknowledgable mothers may be about what their children ask them, they are still an authority for some reason. I succeed in freaking her out because, hey, my anxiety had to come from somewhere, right? (She apologizes for this profusely every time she receives one of these phone calls.) Then I call the pharmacist. And she tells me hardly anyone ever experiences those side effects, they just HAVE to tell people about them. (What would the world be like without scare tactics I wonder? I mean, I see why they have to, but f-ing hell...). Then she tells me how serious a kidney infection is, like I don't already know. (From my mom, from the doctor, from past schooling I have received). That I should relax and just take them. Then I talk to my moms nurse friend who essentially says the same thing, and that she is allergic to it, and that yes it has side effects, but so does food. And then how serious a kidney infection is. She is, however, the only person to not do any of the following a)ask if my partner (assuming I even have one) is a clean individual, b) whether I pee after sex, or c) why didn't I seek a doctor when it was just a bladder infection. (Really? If I knew I had one, I would have!) I have a good cry about it because what is an anxiety attack without tears? I freak my daughter out. In between all this, I vent to friends who do wonderful things to calm me down. I put Em down for a nap and cuddle with her for a bit. Eventually I do calm down.
I need to remember to breath in situations like this. And that life is bigger than this body I life in, and that I will be ok.
And, in really bad situations, just remember that an astrologer told my mom that I would live into my 80's. ;)
**an hour later**
This is the part where I admit that upon reading that I turned into a complete basket case. I called my mom, because no matter how unknowledgable mothers may be about what their children ask them, they are still an authority for some reason. I succeed in freaking her out because, hey, my anxiety had to come from somewhere, right? (She apologizes for this profusely every time she receives one of these phone calls.) Then I call the pharmacist. And she tells me hardly anyone ever experiences those side effects, they just HAVE to tell people about them. (What would the world be like without scare tactics I wonder? I mean, I see why they have to, but f-ing hell...). Then she tells me how serious a kidney infection is, like I don't already know. (From my mom, from the doctor, from past schooling I have received). That I should relax and just take them. Then I talk to my moms nurse friend who essentially says the same thing, and that she is allergic to it, and that yes it has side effects, but so does food. And then how serious a kidney infection is. She is, however, the only person to not do any of the following a)ask if my partner (assuming I even have one) is a clean individual, b) whether I pee after sex, or c) why didn't I seek a doctor when it was just a bladder infection. (Really? If I knew I had one, I would have!) I have a good cry about it because what is an anxiety attack without tears? I freak my daughter out. In between all this, I vent to friends who do wonderful things to calm me down. I put Em down for a nap and cuddle with her for a bit. Eventually I do calm down.
I need to remember to breath in situations like this. And that life is bigger than this body I life in, and that I will be ok.
And, in really bad situations, just remember that an astrologer told my mom that I would live into my 80's. ;)
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
hurdles of awesome
I am my largest obstacle.
Seriously. I am. My fear of my past becomes fear of my present and anxiety over my future. I create scenarios in my head that just make those walls I build around myself even higher. I have spent a lot of time that last two weeks examining these bits of myself, as I got to the point where I completely unmotivated myself into paralyzation. Ugh. What an awful feeling. I know that part of it came from dealing with residual stress from the sentencing hearing, but I was using that as an excuse. I quit doing all school work and prepping my business for the opening this month. The wonderful person that recently came into my life suddenly scared to hell out of me and I started pushing away and pretending that I didn't care as much as I thought I did.
Until I had this perfect moment of clarity. I was laying in the park, staring up at the trees, and I suddenly just KNEW how awesome my life could be if I would just let all that anxiety go. So I started to. I would like to say "SO I DID!" but its a process that is longer and more involved than that.
I am ready for what is coming my way! I open for business this month! I am enjoying the people in my life! I am acknowledging my fear but not making decisions based on it. BRING IT!
Oh! And visit my website! www.gracefulexistence.com
Seriously. I am. My fear of my past becomes fear of my present and anxiety over my future. I create scenarios in my head that just make those walls I build around myself even higher. I have spent a lot of time that last two weeks examining these bits of myself, as I got to the point where I completely unmotivated myself into paralyzation. Ugh. What an awful feeling. I know that part of it came from dealing with residual stress from the sentencing hearing, but I was using that as an excuse. I quit doing all school work and prepping my business for the opening this month. The wonderful person that recently came into my life suddenly scared to hell out of me and I started pushing away and pretending that I didn't care as much as I thought I did.
Until I had this perfect moment of clarity. I was laying in the park, staring up at the trees, and I suddenly just KNEW how awesome my life could be if I would just let all that anxiety go. So I started to. I would like to say "SO I DID!" but its a process that is longer and more involved than that.
I am ready for what is coming my way! I open for business this month! I am enjoying the people in my life! I am acknowledging my fear but not making decisions based on it. BRING IT!
Oh! And visit my website! www.gracefulexistence.com
Friday, May 21, 2010
In the wake of two really unhealthy relationships, I hid myself away quite well. Over the last two years, I have slowly been trying to unfold myself and air out a little bit, but have had trouble with that whole defensive walls going up as soon as someone gets close thing. Letting people see the parts of me that still may be a bit broken are scary.
Well, I let the walls down a bit very recently. And he is still around. SO, this is a start, yes?
Well, I let the walls down a bit very recently. And he is still around. SO, this is a start, yes?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Some things in life that we see reflected on TV are way over-dramaticized. And some things are not.
Maybe it was the thumping of my heart or that my emotions were vascillating at an impressive speed between anger, pain, and sorrow. But the intricate dance of legalities and formal interactions between lawyer, judge, client, and witness are just as they have appeared on TV to me. The long run-on sentences full of legalese that skidded over my head without making much impact, the dramatic silence that preceeded the defendent being sworn in, and the quiet cursing as the victims family sat and listened to a defense case built on lies.
It was an odd sensation, being numb yet raw at the same time. I made it through my moms statement with a steady voice but my voice started to quiver as I began mine. I was breathing so heavily to keep myself from sobbing that I started to hyperventilate and my hands started to fall asleep. For the last little bit of my statement, I had to sit with my head on the desk, so as to be able to see straight. While my Uncle and Aunts statements focused on their anger towards this man and what they would like to see happen to him ("rot in a jail cell by yourself, just like you did to my mother you son of a bitch") my mother and I sought out answers to questions that never cease to surface in dealing with this. As this man took the stand and responded directly to our statements it became abundantly clear that we will never really get these answers from him. Outright lying about what we have and have not done, the defense's case was built solely on the absense of my grandmothers children. Not on his innocence. Luckily for my family's sanity and the mounting guilt we already feel, the judge would not entertain this line of questioning and they were left asking about the food he used to cook my grandmother because they had prepared nothing else. I will admit to a descending sense of hopelessness as they called witness after witness that said he was such a wonderful man, never did anything wrong. This kind of surprised me as I am not sure I really blame him for much.
When he took the stand he called us all his kids and I nearly vomited. He is not my family. He never was and he never acted like he really wanted to be deep down.
We were told that his medical condition warrants a light sentence and not to expect much. So we didn't. And because the whole damn town that he lives in pities him and thinks he is just the sweetest man, we also didn't expect him to be held responsible for much.
So when the judge began his closing judgement, I was floored to hear him say "Mr. Ev*****, frankly, I don't care how present the rest of Ms. Nelsons family was, that case would take hours and it is not what we are here for. What it comes down to is that you voluntarily took responsibility to care for this woman. The pictures from the night she went into the ER alone tell me that you are guilty of this crime..."
Within the closing judgement we learned of the horror of her condition like we hadn't known before. It is the first exposure to the medical examiners report and the autopsy report that we were allowed. My grandma's toenails were close to an inch long when she died. The implications of the lack of care in this one detail, as the judge pointed out, are horrendous.
A year in jail. Five years bench probation. 200 hours of community service. Thousands of dollars in restitution. In the end, we heard him being turned over to the sheriff and taken to jail.
I am still in shock. This is bouncing around in my head making me restless and irritable.
I am not sure how to let it all out and find a little peace.
Maybe it was the thumping of my heart or that my emotions were vascillating at an impressive speed between anger, pain, and sorrow. But the intricate dance of legalities and formal interactions between lawyer, judge, client, and witness are just as they have appeared on TV to me. The long run-on sentences full of legalese that skidded over my head without making much impact, the dramatic silence that preceeded the defendent being sworn in, and the quiet cursing as the victims family sat and listened to a defense case built on lies.
It was an odd sensation, being numb yet raw at the same time. I made it through my moms statement with a steady voice but my voice started to quiver as I began mine. I was breathing so heavily to keep myself from sobbing that I started to hyperventilate and my hands started to fall asleep. For the last little bit of my statement, I had to sit with my head on the desk, so as to be able to see straight. While my Uncle and Aunts statements focused on their anger towards this man and what they would like to see happen to him ("rot in a jail cell by yourself, just like you did to my mother you son of a bitch") my mother and I sought out answers to questions that never cease to surface in dealing with this. As this man took the stand and responded directly to our statements it became abundantly clear that we will never really get these answers from him. Outright lying about what we have and have not done, the defense's case was built solely on the absense of my grandmothers children. Not on his innocence. Luckily for my family's sanity and the mounting guilt we already feel, the judge would not entertain this line of questioning and they were left asking about the food he used to cook my grandmother because they had prepared nothing else. I will admit to a descending sense of hopelessness as they called witness after witness that said he was such a wonderful man, never did anything wrong. This kind of surprised me as I am not sure I really blame him for much.
When he took the stand he called us all his kids and I nearly vomited. He is not my family. He never was and he never acted like he really wanted to be deep down.
We were told that his medical condition warrants a light sentence and not to expect much. So we didn't. And because the whole damn town that he lives in pities him and thinks he is just the sweetest man, we also didn't expect him to be held responsible for much.
So when the judge began his closing judgement, I was floored to hear him say "Mr. Ev*****, frankly, I don't care how present the rest of Ms. Nelsons family was, that case would take hours and it is not what we are here for. What it comes down to is that you voluntarily took responsibility to care for this woman. The pictures from the night she went into the ER alone tell me that you are guilty of this crime..."
Within the closing judgement we learned of the horror of her condition like we hadn't known before. It is the first exposure to the medical examiners report and the autopsy report that we were allowed. My grandma's toenails were close to an inch long when she died. The implications of the lack of care in this one detail, as the judge pointed out, are horrendous.
A year in jail. Five years bench probation. 200 hours of community service. Thousands of dollars in restitution. In the end, we heard him being turned over to the sheriff and taken to jail.
I am still in shock. This is bouncing around in my head making me restless and irritable.
I am not sure how to let it all out and find a little peace.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
In about three hours I will be linked via conference call to the sentencing hearing of the man being held responsible for my grandmothers death. I have been asked to write and read a victim's impact statement. I have been struggling with what to say. How do you portray grief in words? You can't. A feeling so basic yet complicated and intense cannot be translated into words in a way which would satisfactorily represent what I am feeling. But I had to try. Below is what I think I will be reading at the hearing. You many be asking why I am posting this publicly. Because, I want people to know what happened. I have had so many conversations with people in total awe that this man could do this, while my experiences with him have not always been that way, so this is my way of respecting their opinions and honoring my own. No one has to read this. But here, I will have a record of my efforts and my journey to come to terms and be at peace with this situation.
My name is Amber Alexander and I am Joanne Nelson's granddaughter. My mother, Cindy ******, is her daughter. My Grandma Joanne is so much of who I am today. Her presence in my life, especially during my childhood, was a guiding force in my explorations and discoveries of the person I am and the person I want to be. Through her I learned skills and hobbies of hers that are now passions of my own, and her warm embrace was such a strong part of my childhood that I can still feel it surround me today. I have hardly begun the grieving process because her death has hit me incredibly hard. The circumstances of her passing are confusing and painful for me.
I do not feel that I have enough wisdom or insight to draw conclusions as to what I think should happen to whom in the wake of her death because I am still making sense of it. My emotions flare between grief, sorrow, anger, guilt, sadness and pain. And a lot of confusion and unanswered questions. I can't begin to imagine what it was like in the final weeks of her life, I can't say whether I believe everything was done to ensure my grandmother spent her final days with the best possible quality of life, because I was not there. I do not know what was happening, I do not know what was done to help her, to ease her pain, or make her comfortable. What I do know is that my grandmother died in way that must have been unimaginably painful, in a hospital room with one blessed person holding her hand. A nurse she did not know.
What I would like to come away from this whole thing with are answers. In trying to make sense of this tremendous sorrow, there are several things that keep going through my mind, bringing up more questions. The first of which surrounding the last couple times I saw my Grandma Joanne. One was in her home in the early afternoon. She was laying in bed and the whole time asking Gil if he was going to get her out of bed soon. While I know that in the wake of her stroke, one of the lasting effects was a very focused one-track mind, I still can't help but wonder how much of her days were spent like this? Was she in bed all the time? Asking to get up? Another is when she was put in a nursing home while Gil was in the hospital. By the time we were notified, she had been there three weeks, and we found out because one of Gil's sisters finally called my mother to let her know. Why did no one tell us what was going on sooner? We had offered in the past to help, only to be turned down, so we quit offering. Partly because we trusted that if help was needed, or additional care required, they would let us know.
My grandmother went into the hospital just before midnight, November 30th from what I have been told. Her condition was grave enough to warrant law enforcement notification so I know she must have been in really bad shape, yet, the first call made to us was at 8am the next morning, 8 hours after she was admitted. And about an hour after we left the house for the morning, leaving this urgent news waiting for almost the entire day until we heard it two hours before she passed away. This effectively made it impossible for us to get to her before she died, and we never got to say goodbye. That is one of the hardest parts of my grieving process. Why was there more than an 8 hour gap between the time Gil called 911 and the time he called us?
Shortly after my Grandma Joannes passing one of my other grandmothers, Ida *********, whom is my fathers mother and a retired nurse, told me that she ran into Gil in the grocery store shortly before Thanksgiving. She asked him if he had heard from me and whether I would be in town for the holidays with my daughter. Gil replied that he never heard from us. Ida asked how Joanne was doing and Gil replied that she wasn't doing well at all. At that point my Grandma Ida told Gil that she didn't think he looked well either and according to her memory he said neither of them were doing very well. At this point my Grandma Ida told Gil that they had home services that would come in and help take care of Grandma Joanne, or even just help with housework and cooking and she asked him if he had looked into any of this. My Grandma Ida does not remember Gil's exact response but she says that it was to the extent of "We will get by". She remembers saying something about him not being able to handle this on his own. This was about two or three weeks before her death. What I want to know, is if it was acknowledged that neither he nor my grandmother were doing well, why didn't he reach out? Why had he turned down offers of help? I cannot say whether reaching out and asking for help would have prevented my Grandma Joannes death, but at the very least, she would have had more people there with her when she passed. And he wouldn't have had to do it all by himself. Judging from his response to my grandma Ida's question about hearing from us, I can only assume that Gil was at the very least, bitter that we were not in better touch. I will be the first to acknowledge I did not call that often. But I think it is also important to acknowledge that communication is a two way street. There were phone calls on my part made that went unanswered, the phone just rang endlessly with no answering machine. There were several times that they had plans to come and join my mother and I for holidays yet failed to show up and failed to call to tell us they would not be coming. There were also many times that my mom would call and Gil would say that Grandma was in bed, but that he would call back when she got up, yet he never did. While I strive to be a compassionate person I am struggling with the anger I feel towards this man whom my grandmother trusted, as did my family, to care for her, who failed to reach out at times of need. One can only hear a rejection to offered help so many times before they quit offering and I fail to understand why he didn't tell us what was really going on, or how any bitterness or anger or resentment towards us would warrant not making phone calls at these times like these.
My Grandma Joanne was foundational to the person I am today. I truly feel that in order for me to honor her memory, and the impact she had on my life, and to make peace with this terrible situation, I must try to find the answers to these questions.
My name is Amber Alexander and I am Joanne Nelson's granddaughter. My mother, Cindy ******, is her daughter. My Grandma Joanne is so much of who I am today. Her presence in my life, especially during my childhood, was a guiding force in my explorations and discoveries of the person I am and the person I want to be. Through her I learned skills and hobbies of hers that are now passions of my own, and her warm embrace was such a strong part of my childhood that I can still feel it surround me today. I have hardly begun the grieving process because her death has hit me incredibly hard. The circumstances of her passing are confusing and painful for me.
I do not feel that I have enough wisdom or insight to draw conclusions as to what I think should happen to whom in the wake of her death because I am still making sense of it. My emotions flare between grief, sorrow, anger, guilt, sadness and pain. And a lot of confusion and unanswered questions. I can't begin to imagine what it was like in the final weeks of her life, I can't say whether I believe everything was done to ensure my grandmother spent her final days with the best possible quality of life, because I was not there. I do not know what was happening, I do not know what was done to help her, to ease her pain, or make her comfortable. What I do know is that my grandmother died in way that must have been unimaginably painful, in a hospital room with one blessed person holding her hand. A nurse she did not know.
What I would like to come away from this whole thing with are answers. In trying to make sense of this tremendous sorrow, there are several things that keep going through my mind, bringing up more questions. The first of which surrounding the last couple times I saw my Grandma Joanne. One was in her home in the early afternoon. She was laying in bed and the whole time asking Gil if he was going to get her out of bed soon. While I know that in the wake of her stroke, one of the lasting effects was a very focused one-track mind, I still can't help but wonder how much of her days were spent like this? Was she in bed all the time? Asking to get up? Another is when she was put in a nursing home while Gil was in the hospital. By the time we were notified, she had been there three weeks, and we found out because one of Gil's sisters finally called my mother to let her know. Why did no one tell us what was going on sooner? We had offered in the past to help, only to be turned down, so we quit offering. Partly because we trusted that if help was needed, or additional care required, they would let us know.
My grandmother went into the hospital just before midnight, November 30th from what I have been told. Her condition was grave enough to warrant law enforcement notification so I know she must have been in really bad shape, yet, the first call made to us was at 8am the next morning, 8 hours after she was admitted. And about an hour after we left the house for the morning, leaving this urgent news waiting for almost the entire day until we heard it two hours before she passed away. This effectively made it impossible for us to get to her before she died, and we never got to say goodbye. That is one of the hardest parts of my grieving process. Why was there more than an 8 hour gap between the time Gil called 911 and the time he called us?
Shortly after my Grandma Joannes passing one of my other grandmothers, Ida *********, whom is my fathers mother and a retired nurse, told me that she ran into Gil in the grocery store shortly before Thanksgiving. She asked him if he had heard from me and whether I would be in town for the holidays with my daughter. Gil replied that he never heard from us. Ida asked how Joanne was doing and Gil replied that she wasn't doing well at all. At that point my Grandma Ida told Gil that she didn't think he looked well either and according to her memory he said neither of them were doing very well. At this point my Grandma Ida told Gil that they had home services that would come in and help take care of Grandma Joanne, or even just help with housework and cooking and she asked him if he had looked into any of this. My Grandma Ida does not remember Gil's exact response but she says that it was to the extent of "We will get by". She remembers saying something about him not being able to handle this on his own. This was about two or three weeks before her death. What I want to know, is if it was acknowledged that neither he nor my grandmother were doing well, why didn't he reach out? Why had he turned down offers of help? I cannot say whether reaching out and asking for help would have prevented my Grandma Joannes death, but at the very least, she would have had more people there with her when she passed. And he wouldn't have had to do it all by himself. Judging from his response to my grandma Ida's question about hearing from us, I can only assume that Gil was at the very least, bitter that we were not in better touch. I will be the first to acknowledge I did not call that often. But I think it is also important to acknowledge that communication is a two way street. There were phone calls on my part made that went unanswered, the phone just rang endlessly with no answering machine. There were several times that they had plans to come and join my mother and I for holidays yet failed to show up and failed to call to tell us they would not be coming. There were also many times that my mom would call and Gil would say that Grandma was in bed, but that he would call back when she got up, yet he never did. While I strive to be a compassionate person I am struggling with the anger I feel towards this man whom my grandmother trusted, as did my family, to care for her, who failed to reach out at times of need. One can only hear a rejection to offered help so many times before they quit offering and I fail to understand why he didn't tell us what was really going on, or how any bitterness or anger or resentment towards us would warrant not making phone calls at these times like these.
My Grandma Joanne was foundational to the person I am today. I truly feel that in order for me to honor her memory, and the impact she had on my life, and to make peace with this terrible situation, I must try to find the answers to these questions.
Friday, May 7, 2010
With Sepia-Toned Loving
After my grandmother's death, we had to go into her house to look for insurance papers and other information for the death certificate. I remember being so absolutely numb about the whole experience until I opened a drawer of her sweaters and her scent hit me like a ton of bricks. It washed over me and into me, it blurred my vision and for a moment it felt as if I was wrapped up in her warmth and love. As the smell faded my heart was left raw, the numbness no where in sight. The next drawer I opened was full of pictures. Memories of a life recorded, with the story left untold. So many smiling faces, some of them I knew, a lot of them I didn't, and still don't. I am generally not one for obtaining a lot of possessions, but I hoarded these pictures fiercely. I snatched up all that I could, taking an armload out to my car. It felt disrespectful to be thinking about what of hers I wanted to take with her death so fresh in my mind and heart.
But I realized something. They are more than just things. They are a life line into my past and a connection to a family I wish I would have held closer. Sorting through them the other day for the first time since I brought them home, I came across one of a 6-year old Joanne, blonde curly ringlets, standing by the ocean with her mother. My daughter was staring at me through those eyes. Last night, Emily and I sat down and I showed her these brittle, black and white relics.
"See, you look so much like your Great Grandma Joanne, look at her hair!"
"And her smile! Look mom! I smile like her!"
Thumbing through these pictures and reliving moments I shared with this woman, stories that she told me, and the magic she brought to my life, I was able for the first time to hold her in my mind with love, and feel at peace with my relationship with her. I was able to remember all the joy, the wisdom, the love and start to release some of the sorrow and pain. Just a little. But it's a start, right?
"Mommy, she's so beautiful! I miss her but I don't remember her...will you tell me more about her?"
This is why I kept the pictures.
But I realized something. They are more than just things. They are a life line into my past and a connection to a family I wish I would have held closer. Sorting through them the other day for the first time since I brought them home, I came across one of a 6-year old Joanne, blonde curly ringlets, standing by the ocean with her mother. My daughter was staring at me through those eyes. Last night, Emily and I sat down and I showed her these brittle, black and white relics.
"See, you look so much like your Great Grandma Joanne, look at her hair!"
"And her smile! Look mom! I smile like her!"
Thumbing through these pictures and reliving moments I shared with this woman, stories that she told me, and the magic she brought to my life, I was able for the first time to hold her in my mind with love, and feel at peace with my relationship with her. I was able to remember all the joy, the wisdom, the love and start to release some of the sorrow and pain. Just a little. But it's a start, right?
"Mommy, she's so beautiful! I miss her but I don't remember her...will you tell me more about her?"
This is why I kept the pictures.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Canine Awesomeness
So we have this dog. And at first, he was more for my daughter, but I have to admit I have quite fallen for the little bugger. And, apparently, he is smart.
So, at my house, there isn't much privacy, and usually when it is just my daughter and I, the bathroom door never gets shut. (I know, I know, too much information for some of you, but whatever.) But having this little dog stare at you while you pee is a little unnerving. So for the first few months he was with us, I would shoo him out of the bathroom and he would slink out with a sad look on his face. (And yes, I am quite aware the easy thing to do would be to just shut the damn door.)
But now?
He still follows me on my heels to the bathroom, but he will stop at the doorway, turn his back to the bathroom and politely wait.
So, at my house, there isn't much privacy, and usually when it is just my daughter and I, the bathroom door never gets shut. (I know, I know, too much information for some of you, but whatever.) But having this little dog stare at you while you pee is a little unnerving. So for the first few months he was with us, I would shoo him out of the bathroom and he would slink out with a sad look on his face. (And yes, I am quite aware the easy thing to do would be to just shut the damn door.)
But now?
He still follows me on my heels to the bathroom, but he will stop at the doorway, turn his back to the bathroom and politely wait.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Wading through It
There is a quiet and fierce storm raging inside of me so I am going to do what I tell my daughter to do when she is rendered speechless due to her emotions: I am going to use my words as best I can.
Lilacs are blooming all over town, each one serving as a reminder of my Grandma Joanne who passed away this last December. I have known all along that I was not done grieving, I don't know that I ever will, her absence has hit me hard. This woman was foundational in the development of who I am and what I value in life. She had a gigantic lilac bush in her side yard that my cousin Stephen and I used to use as a fort. The smell permeates the good memories from my childhood and reminds me of her embrace. Her musical voice. Her chocolate kisses.
I have not talked about her death much because it has been so painful to process. And because I feel guilty for not being there more. But I think I need to let it out, it's eating me inside. She died of sepsis (systemic blood infection) that was caused by bed sores on her back that were not taken care of. As someone who used to be a caregiver, it kills me to know who painful those are, and how slow and painful a way to die it is. At the time of her death, this woman who in life averaged 150 pounds weighed 88 pounds. Her medical records indicated that contrary to what her partner/caregiver had been telling us, she had not been to a doctor in three years. Senior and Disabled Services had tried to investigate but due to manipulation, they never made it through the front door. She entered the hospital around midnight on November 30th, hardly conscious and the infection was so bad that she couldn't speak, and could barely breathe on her own. She was gone within 12 hours. Her caregiver didn't tell them how to get a hold of us. He was barred from the room because when he entered, her heart rate and respitory rate would go through the roof. She died in a hospital room, with an off-duty nurse holding her hand because he didn't want her to die alone. We listened over the phone as the monitor flat-lined, never even being able to mutter a good-bye through the phone. The signs of malnourishment and mistreatment were so severe that her caregiver was charged on the spot. At a time when we should have been able to just sit and grieve we were dealing with police detectives and autopsy reports. When we were finally able to see her after her death, it didn't look like her. The harsh, sad face of the body in front of us was not the tender, warm, loving grandmother of my childhood. Her body was bruised from IV's that tried to save her and an autopsy that tried to answer questions. Her arthritic hands and feet were balled up. She was cold.
Last week the DA submitted a plea bargain for us to give input on before they offer it to the man that was someone she trusted, someone who was supposed to be taking care of her. While I am still trying to answer questions of my own about what I should have/could have done, and whether I feel he did this consciously, I am being asked to determine whether I think this judgement is a fair exchange for what he has done. I haven't even decided what it is I think he did do. But reading the plea bargain all my grief resurfaces and I am feeling a quiet rage inside of me for this man, who had everyone convinced we never offered help, that no one ever called to check in on him and my grandmother. He had my uncle convinced we had been out of contact so long that he didn't even know how to get a hold of us. And us the same about my uncle. He took out at least 10 credit cards in my paralyzed grandmothers name and wracked up over $30,000 of debt.
What I do know is this:
Court ordered letters of apologies and restitution in situations like this just feel really offensive. None of it will change the circumstances of her death. None of it will bring her back. It doesn't change anything, and it's not genuine. And what is money going to do? All the money he had, he stole from her. Two years of probation and 200 hours of community service in exchange for being responsible for taking someones life? Also offensive.
After spending so long trying to have compassion for someone who I would like to believe was doing the best he could, this rage is surprising and a little overwhelming. While on the one hand I would like to speak with him, hear his side, and understand and feel at least compassion for him, there is this greater part of me that wants answers. Why didn't he reach out for help? Why did he lie to us about so many things concerning her health and her care? And then there is the hurt granddaughter that just wants to yell "I WANT MY GRANDMA BACK YOU ASSHOLE!"
Lilacs are blooming all over town, each one serving as a reminder of my Grandma Joanne who passed away this last December. I have known all along that I was not done grieving, I don't know that I ever will, her absence has hit me hard. This woman was foundational in the development of who I am and what I value in life. She had a gigantic lilac bush in her side yard that my cousin Stephen and I used to use as a fort. The smell permeates the good memories from my childhood and reminds me of her embrace. Her musical voice. Her chocolate kisses.
I have not talked about her death much because it has been so painful to process. And because I feel guilty for not being there more. But I think I need to let it out, it's eating me inside. She died of sepsis (systemic blood infection) that was caused by bed sores on her back that were not taken care of. As someone who used to be a caregiver, it kills me to know who painful those are, and how slow and painful a way to die it is. At the time of her death, this woman who in life averaged 150 pounds weighed 88 pounds. Her medical records indicated that contrary to what her partner/caregiver had been telling us, she had not been to a doctor in three years. Senior and Disabled Services had tried to investigate but due to manipulation, they never made it through the front door. She entered the hospital around midnight on November 30th, hardly conscious and the infection was so bad that she couldn't speak, and could barely breathe on her own. She was gone within 12 hours. Her caregiver didn't tell them how to get a hold of us. He was barred from the room because when he entered, her heart rate and respitory rate would go through the roof. She died in a hospital room, with an off-duty nurse holding her hand because he didn't want her to die alone. We listened over the phone as the monitor flat-lined, never even being able to mutter a good-bye through the phone. The signs of malnourishment and mistreatment were so severe that her caregiver was charged on the spot. At a time when we should have been able to just sit and grieve we were dealing with police detectives and autopsy reports. When we were finally able to see her after her death, it didn't look like her. The harsh, sad face of the body in front of us was not the tender, warm, loving grandmother of my childhood. Her body was bruised from IV's that tried to save her and an autopsy that tried to answer questions. Her arthritic hands and feet were balled up. She was cold.
Last week the DA submitted a plea bargain for us to give input on before they offer it to the man that was someone she trusted, someone who was supposed to be taking care of her. While I am still trying to answer questions of my own about what I should have/could have done, and whether I feel he did this consciously, I am being asked to determine whether I think this judgement is a fair exchange for what he has done. I haven't even decided what it is I think he did do. But reading the plea bargain all my grief resurfaces and I am feeling a quiet rage inside of me for this man, who had everyone convinced we never offered help, that no one ever called to check in on him and my grandmother. He had my uncle convinced we had been out of contact so long that he didn't even know how to get a hold of us. And us the same about my uncle. He took out at least 10 credit cards in my paralyzed grandmothers name and wracked up over $30,000 of debt.
What I do know is this:
Court ordered letters of apologies and restitution in situations like this just feel really offensive. None of it will change the circumstances of her death. None of it will bring her back. It doesn't change anything, and it's not genuine. And what is money going to do? All the money he had, he stole from her. Two years of probation and 200 hours of community service in exchange for being responsible for taking someones life? Also offensive.
After spending so long trying to have compassion for someone who I would like to believe was doing the best he could, this rage is surprising and a little overwhelming. While on the one hand I would like to speak with him, hear his side, and understand and feel at least compassion for him, there is this greater part of me that wants answers. Why didn't he reach out for help? Why did he lie to us about so many things concerning her health and her care? And then there is the hurt granddaughter that just wants to yell "I WANT MY GRANDMA BACK YOU ASSHOLE!"
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
clouds
I think I need to dance it out or something. Maybe climb to the top of a mountain and scream? Life is fantastic, yet there is this mounting cloud of emotion building over my head. It's a bipolar cloud, one minute it's raining marshmallows of happiness and joy, the next sourness drops of angst and grump. Emily says that means it's time for another naked dance party. I am leaning towards agreement on this.
Today I got my brakes fixed for free. I love free. They started making this awful grinding noise this weekend and I got all preemptive pissy about it because I JUST had them fixed in September and it was almost $500. I had visions of passing by the garage on the bus to see my car sitting there waiting to be taken home for months because I can't afford to fix it right now. And then? Oh, hey there warranty, you are my best friend today. Shiny and new. A lesson that I need to not assume to worst, because it rarely is the worst.
I went out this weekend. I was not excited about it at the beginning of the evening because I hate the part of it where that one drunk guy won't go away(I don't mean to sound stuck up about it either, it just seems to happen in bars. And not just to me), and I was having one of those days where none of my clothes fit the way I wanted them to and then when they did, my shoes didn't look right. I hate those days. Anyways, Saturday a friends' friend and his band were playing and she said I MUST go. So I did. Because she is pretty damn great and I like having friends that live here. There was that one drunk guy, he was Australian and I didn't believe him at first, I thought he was faking the accent until he pulled out a passport to prove it to me. But overall, it was a great night. Her friend, I am totally smitten with because he is cute, sweet, and I have a weakness for guitar and bass players who can sing. We got flowers from some guy at the bar who felt bad about the Australian guy, and I got to spend the evening with awesome people. Another lesson in not being a sourpuss before the situation calls for it. I had fun. And I realized just how much I miss having close friends that live close by. I must keep cultivating that...
I keep getting whiffs of pee. If the dog peed in the house, I am going to be very put off.
Today I got my brakes fixed for free. I love free. They started making this awful grinding noise this weekend and I got all preemptive pissy about it because I JUST had them fixed in September and it was almost $500. I had visions of passing by the garage on the bus to see my car sitting there waiting to be taken home for months because I can't afford to fix it right now. And then? Oh, hey there warranty, you are my best friend today. Shiny and new. A lesson that I need to not assume to worst, because it rarely is the worst.
I went out this weekend. I was not excited about it at the beginning of the evening because I hate the part of it where that one drunk guy won't go away(I don't mean to sound stuck up about it either, it just seems to happen in bars. And not just to me), and I was having one of those days where none of my clothes fit the way I wanted them to and then when they did, my shoes didn't look right. I hate those days. Anyways, Saturday a friends' friend and his band were playing and she said I MUST go. So I did. Because she is pretty damn great and I like having friends that live here. There was that one drunk guy, he was Australian and I didn't believe him at first, I thought he was faking the accent until he pulled out a passport to prove it to me. But overall, it was a great night. Her friend, I am totally smitten with because he is cute, sweet, and I have a weakness for guitar and bass players who can sing. We got flowers from some guy at the bar who felt bad about the Australian guy, and I got to spend the evening with awesome people. Another lesson in not being a sourpuss before the situation calls for it. I had fun. And I realized just how much I miss having close friends that live close by. I must keep cultivating that...
I keep getting whiffs of pee. If the dog peed in the house, I am going to be very put off.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I cultivate what I want and need
I am constantly amazed at the responsiveness of the Universe to my needs when I take the conscious time and effort to just recognize what they are and let them be known. Just the other day I was thinking "gosh, it would be nice to have some female friends here in town that x,y, and z." BAM! A friend from high school is back in touch and fabulous, and has fabulous friends and they are all x,y, and z, and then some. I need to remember this secret super power of mine when I am feeling down and out and sorry for myself. I create my life. It is what it is because that is what I made out of it all.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Over the last few years or more, I have put a focus on being really intentional about the people I let into my life. And this has done me much good. I have let go of some really unhealthy relationships, and made peace with situations that were beyond my control. But there are a few people that I have held close to me through out all of this because I really like the idea of them in my life, of the way it feels when they are actually present in my life. At one time, all of these people were very vital parts of my life. I couldn't differentiate between what used to be and what is now without feeling like I was disrespecting where they used to stand within my heart. This has taught me a great deal about the lengths I will go for people sometimes.
But I can only stretch so far for some of these people. Recently I realized that through my efforts to keep one particular person in my life, I have kept in my mind an idea of who we used to be around each other. And I used to be someone very different. Such as, my tendency to be a door mat to certain people. And my tendency to put ungodly amounts of effort into certain people and not enough into others. I have been done with that part of me for so long, but in failing to see the bigger picture and possibility, I have become her again around this person. I am not going to be the one that makes all the effort anymore. I am letting go of sole responsibility for maintaining these friendships so that I can free up some energy to direct to people who are capable of acting like they give a damn. And I am *really* tired of the arrogance that comes along with some people thinking that because they aren't here, my life sucks ass.
I am ready to cultivate more reciprocal relationships in my life. And I don't mean just letting people in that will give back what they are getting (even though that's cool too), but relationships that of mutual benefit and respect. I am ready for people in my life that are there throughout, not just when they are lonely or have nothing better to do. I am demanding that I treat people in my life with more respect, and I am demanding that the people in my life treat me with more as well.
This post wasn't meant to sound like an epic declaration. Just a reminder to myself that it's ok to let these people go. Because I am tired of the drama and the pain that comes with trying to keep these people around. No more fairweather friends.
But I can only stretch so far for some of these people. Recently I realized that through my efforts to keep one particular person in my life, I have kept in my mind an idea of who we used to be around each other. And I used to be someone very different. Such as, my tendency to be a door mat to certain people. And my tendency to put ungodly amounts of effort into certain people and not enough into others. I have been done with that part of me for so long, but in failing to see the bigger picture and possibility, I have become her again around this person. I am not going to be the one that makes all the effort anymore. I am letting go of sole responsibility for maintaining these friendships so that I can free up some energy to direct to people who are capable of acting like they give a damn. And I am *really* tired of the arrogance that comes along with some people thinking that because they aren't here, my life sucks ass.
I am ready to cultivate more reciprocal relationships in my life. And I don't mean just letting people in that will give back what they are getting (even though that's cool too), but relationships that of mutual benefit and respect. I am ready for people in my life that are there throughout, not just when they are lonely or have nothing better to do. I am demanding that I treat people in my life with more respect, and I am demanding that the people in my life treat me with more as well.
This post wasn't meant to sound like an epic declaration. Just a reminder to myself that it's ok to let these people go. Because I am tired of the drama and the pain that comes with trying to keep these people around. No more fairweather friends.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
My inner craft nerd
Ok. So. I am not a quilter. My mom has been going on and on for a long long while about how great she thinks quilting is and it always makes my eyes glaze over, just like budget meetings. So then the other day she mentions this quilting bee. Where you buy your fabric, sent bits to participants and they each make you a quilting block. Then they send them back and you have a whole quilts worth of blocks to put together. And then the next person sends out their fabric and on and on. Why this sounds so much more interesting than just making my own damn quilt, I have no idea. But I am so excited about it. This worried me for a moment, as everytime I throw myself into a new hobby that I cared nothing about before it is usually to avoid something in my life. SO I sat with this for abit and decided that it's really just that I love the idea that I get a little peice of something handmade from a bunch of people I know and care about, and I get to peice it together, and it keeps me warm and happy. And that I get to help create something like this for other people.
Plus, once I found this fabric, I knew I had to do it, because who can resist these twisted little love birds and bunnies?
Plus, once I found this fabric, I knew I had to do it, because who can resist these twisted little love birds and bunnies?
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
I arrived at the young adult con this weekend feeling mildly stressed out and very distant. I have so much work to do lately, and spiritually speaking I have been very confused. I have had this idea in my head that I don't feel at home in any of the communities that I used to. So much of my interactions with the young adult community in the past have been colored with expectations and entitlement issues and drama that I got weary of, and I felt that for the most part, most of the community, while absolutely full of wonderful people, were people that I couldn't relate to or that were at completely different places than I am.
I drove home after the conference feeling cradled and supported with love and caring.
Isn't it nice when we are wrong about things like this?
On the way home, I also got a new tattoo. Now, most people view tattoos as body decoration or rebellious moments in life. Mine are spiritual, all three. But this third one was by far the most spiritual and meaningful experience out of all of them. Coming from a community that reminded me of the incredible support that can be found in this world, and of the spirit that dwells everywhere, I was tattooed by a very dear friend of mine, which is a first as far as my tattoos go. I was surrounded by some very good friends, which was also a first. And the work that I was getting done is so intricately tied to my life the last five years and seeing the lessons I have learn now there on my arm as a reminder to me, it's just so...meaningful. It was a little like childbirth. I had Vanessa holding on to me in one place, and Elona stroking my arm. Both were talking to me, and giving me room to breathe. In some ways, it was a nice lesson in letting others support me through my pain. Others may think that sounds silly, but I have so completely isolated myself in my pain and my challenges the last few years that I put a whole new meaning to "going it alone". Surrendering to the physical pain I was experiencing was a release, and feeling the presence of those around me holding me and loving me, it's something I have forgotten how to feel until now.
On the whole, I feel so much less alone. And I am reminded that the magic in life finds me in the most unexpected of places.
I drove home after the conference feeling cradled and supported with love and caring.
Isn't it nice when we are wrong about things like this?
On the way home, I also got a new tattoo. Now, most people view tattoos as body decoration or rebellious moments in life. Mine are spiritual, all three. But this third one was by far the most spiritual and meaningful experience out of all of them. Coming from a community that reminded me of the incredible support that can be found in this world, and of the spirit that dwells everywhere, I was tattooed by a very dear friend of mine, which is a first as far as my tattoos go. I was surrounded by some very good friends, which was also a first. And the work that I was getting done is so intricately tied to my life the last five years and seeing the lessons I have learn now there on my arm as a reminder to me, it's just so...meaningful. It was a little like childbirth. I had Vanessa holding on to me in one place, and Elona stroking my arm. Both were talking to me, and giving me room to breathe. In some ways, it was a nice lesson in letting others support me through my pain. Others may think that sounds silly, but I have so completely isolated myself in my pain and my challenges the last few years that I put a whole new meaning to "going it alone". Surrendering to the physical pain I was experiencing was a release, and feeling the presence of those around me holding me and loving me, it's something I have forgotten how to feel until now.
On the whole, I feel so much less alone. And I am reminded that the magic in life finds me in the most unexpected of places.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
I have great people in my life. I just thought you all should know that.
I have been on this high-productivity binge lately that I am really kind of loving. I wonder how long this will last? I know I am not the only one because one of said great people mentioned above, Lizzy, mentioned it in her blog today too. (By the way, she is made of awesome.) It feels pretty bad ass, but maybe that is just because I was really done with feeling like I did for days on end was sit? Don't get me wrong, embracing my inner sloth was a wonderful, informative experience, and I really perfected my gluten free oatmeal chocolate chip cookie recipe, but it's nice to know that circulation still works once I remove myself from the butt groove I have created in front of the computer and on the couch.
My energy levels have always come in little spurts, but lately it is just like a productivity God spewed some life into me or something. I think a lot of it has to do with putting so much focus on m health lately, and really focusing on what I am putting into my body. Eliminating gluten and drastically reducing my sugar intake has made me feel so amazing, but I didn't realize just how great until I threw it all out the window this weekend and ate all the crap I have been avoiding, practically in one sitting. Talk about feeling like a slug! And my skin broke out. I have always been a pretty healthy eater. Or, I have been ever since becoming a mom, but there is something different about it this time, and I think it is because I am really invested in feeling better about my life, versus trying to be a good model so that someone else doesn't feel like I do, or treat themselves the way I have. Not that positive role modeling isn't a good thing, it really REALLY is, but it just feels different when it is coming from this place. As soon as I got all that junk out of my system and ate a really awesome and wholesome meal, I felt better and my energy levels were right back up where they had been the previous days. Anyhow, we all benefit from it because I feel better, so I am more pleasant to be around and everyone else is happier too.
Today two friends of mine who live in New York came to visit and I must say that watching someone I have known for like 15 years meet my kid for the first time is just about the cutest. Nothing boosts a momma's pride like being able to show off how awesome her child is. But it is interesting to me that lately, so many people from my past have come back into my life in one way for another. And not those "oh-my-gawd, how on earth did they find me?" people, but the "oh! i am so happy you called because I was pretty sure I would never talk to you ever again!" people. I'd like to think that it is a sign of some sort, or a reward for being so intentional about life lately. But maybe it is just coincidence triggered by the alignment of awesome and nostalgia? (I know that statement made no sense, sorry.) Whatever it is, I am pretty happy with life lately.
And. I have new hair.
And I hate taking pictures of myself...
I have been on this high-productivity binge lately that I am really kind of loving. I wonder how long this will last? I know I am not the only one because one of said great people mentioned above, Lizzy, mentioned it in her blog today too. (By the way, she is made of awesome.) It feels pretty bad ass, but maybe that is just because I was really done with feeling like I did for days on end was sit? Don't get me wrong, embracing my inner sloth was a wonderful, informative experience, and I really perfected my gluten free oatmeal chocolate chip cookie recipe, but it's nice to know that circulation still works once I remove myself from the butt groove I have created in front of the computer and on the couch.
My energy levels have always come in little spurts, but lately it is just like a productivity God spewed some life into me or something. I think a lot of it has to do with putting so much focus on m health lately, and really focusing on what I am putting into my body. Eliminating gluten and drastically reducing my sugar intake has made me feel so amazing, but I didn't realize just how great until I threw it all out the window this weekend and ate all the crap I have been avoiding, practically in one sitting. Talk about feeling like a slug! And my skin broke out. I have always been a pretty healthy eater. Or, I have been ever since becoming a mom, but there is something different about it this time, and I think it is because I am really invested in feeling better about my life, versus trying to be a good model so that someone else doesn't feel like I do, or treat themselves the way I have. Not that positive role modeling isn't a good thing, it really REALLY is, but it just feels different when it is coming from this place. As soon as I got all that junk out of my system and ate a really awesome and wholesome meal, I felt better and my energy levels were right back up where they had been the previous days. Anyhow, we all benefit from it because I feel better, so I am more pleasant to be around and everyone else is happier too.
Today two friends of mine who live in New York came to visit and I must say that watching someone I have known for like 15 years meet my kid for the first time is just about the cutest. Nothing boosts a momma's pride like being able to show off how awesome her child is. But it is interesting to me that lately, so many people from my past have come back into my life in one way for another. And not those "oh-my-gawd, how on earth did they find me?" people, but the "oh! i am so happy you called because I was pretty sure I would never talk to you ever again!" people. I'd like to think that it is a sign of some sort, or a reward for being so intentional about life lately. But maybe it is just coincidence triggered by the alignment of awesome and nostalgia? (I know that statement made no sense, sorry.) Whatever it is, I am pretty happy with life lately.
And. I have new hair.
And I hate taking pictures of myself...
Monday, March 22, 2010
renewing myself
Ahhh, spring. I love this time of year. Especially before the pollen starts trying to rearrange my DNA through my nose. I love that it is light until almost 8pm. I love that there are flowers out, and birds, and I can officially start my garden.
This year spring seems especially pivotal in my life. I have made changes that have been a long time coming, I am focusing on parts of my life I have been hiding from the past few years, and I am moving in a direction that feels right. Renewal at it's most invigorating.
This weekend my best friend came into town and on the day of the equinox, we went for a hike out in the woods. Being surrounded my trees and the running water, it was so grounding. But more than that, it was incredible to be surrounded by such beauty, with someone, but in silence. So often life gets so filled with noise and I don't realize how overwhelming that is for me, or how it only lends to a feeling of lonliness because the noise serves as a barrier. Silence is so powerful.
I am looking forward to the experience the Universe throws my way in the coming months. I am starting my own business, going to a chaplaincy training, going for an adventure in New York City, and have been emerging back into communities I thought I had left behind long ago but am realizing now that I just needed to be there on my own terms, not someone else's expectations.
Isn't life grand?
Oh-and, have I mentioned that I get all impulsive and experimental around my best friend? I cut off my hair and put some red in it. It's pretty fun.
This year spring seems especially pivotal in my life. I have made changes that have been a long time coming, I am focusing on parts of my life I have been hiding from the past few years, and I am moving in a direction that feels right. Renewal at it's most invigorating.
This weekend my best friend came into town and on the day of the equinox, we went for a hike out in the woods. Being surrounded my trees and the running water, it was so grounding. But more than that, it was incredible to be surrounded by such beauty, with someone, but in silence. So often life gets so filled with noise and I don't realize how overwhelming that is for me, or how it only lends to a feeling of lonliness because the noise serves as a barrier. Silence is so powerful.
I am looking forward to the experience the Universe throws my way in the coming months. I am starting my own business, going to a chaplaincy training, going for an adventure in New York City, and have been emerging back into communities I thought I had left behind long ago but am realizing now that I just needed to be there on my own terms, not someone else's expectations.
Isn't life grand?
Oh-and, have I mentioned that I get all impulsive and experimental around my best friend? I cut off my hair and put some red in it. It's pretty fun.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Post Run Reflections
So, on a blog I used to keep I had a tag called 'listastic-ness' because sometimes lists are the manner in which my brain functions and organizes things. Such as right now. I have been making an effort to start running again, and to do it in the morning because the last time I ran in the evening I was up until 4am due to post-run endorphin rush.
-Running in the morning? This is cool, I can do this. I like birds, and I like hearing them sing to me and I prance down the road.
-Wearing sunglasses while running? Not so much. Specifically my sunglasses that are meant for someone whose noggin is slightly wider than mine. The bounce of them as I run makes me feel like someone slipped something in my morning green smoothie.
-Man, all that sugar I ate last night made my head fill with snot. Hmm. So that's what sugar does to me. Good to know. Approaching mile two thinking about this, the cookies from last night were less worth it.
-Running with music=epic win. "Someday", that elusive day, I will put together a really awesome playlist with songs like 'Eye of The Tiger' and 'Greatest Man that Ever Lived' and 'Starfuckers, Inc.'. For now I will settle for the jumble of songs that itunes, the fickle bitch that it is, allowed me to put on the shuffle.
-Big skittish dogs + low fences? Not my friend. I mean, a heightened heart rate is beneficial and all, but give. me. a. fucking. heart attack. will ya?
-I need something to cover my ears. I think when they ache like they are trying to tell me they are cold.
-Running in the morning? This is cool, I can do this. I like birds, and I like hearing them sing to me and I prance down the road.
-Wearing sunglasses while running? Not so much. Specifically my sunglasses that are meant for someone whose noggin is slightly wider than mine. The bounce of them as I run makes me feel like someone slipped something in my morning green smoothie.
-Man, all that sugar I ate last night made my head fill with snot. Hmm. So that's what sugar does to me. Good to know. Approaching mile two thinking about this, the cookies from last night were less worth it.
-Running with music=epic win. "Someday", that elusive day, I will put together a really awesome playlist with songs like 'Eye of The Tiger' and 'Greatest Man that Ever Lived' and 'Starfuckers, Inc.'. For now I will settle for the jumble of songs that itunes, the fickle bitch that it is, allowed me to put on the shuffle.
-Big skittish dogs + low fences? Not my friend. I mean, a heightened heart rate is beneficial and all, but give. me. a. fucking. heart attack. will ya?
-I need something to cover my ears. I think when they ache like they are trying to tell me they are cold.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
I think that setting our intentions is a valuable exercise in life. They are a little different that New Years Resolutions. Which is good because I don't really ever make those. But setting intentions is putting out into the Universe what you are wanting to cultivate and work towards in your life. And I have some big ones right now.
1) I am going to become more financially stable over the next 12 months. I am going to do this by being open and available for any means of making/receiving money that align with my values. I will start looking for a part time job that fits my schedule and isn't flipping burgers at a fast food joint. And I am opening my own health coaching business this summer.
2) I am going to get the most out of this awesome education that I have the opportunity to receive.
3) I am only going to let the energy that I need and is beneficial to me into my life.
I think that is enough for now. There are birds singing outside and taunting me to come out and play...
1) I am going to become more financially stable over the next 12 months. I am going to do this by being open and available for any means of making/receiving money that align with my values. I will start looking for a part time job that fits my schedule and isn't flipping burgers at a fast food joint. And I am opening my own health coaching business this summer.
2) I am going to get the most out of this awesome education that I have the opportunity to receive.
3) I am only going to let the energy that I need and is beneficial to me into my life.
I think that is enough for now. There are birds singing outside and taunting me to come out and play...
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Note to Self
Dear Wonderful Self,
I know if felt really awesome to get back out there and run yesterday evening, but you were so amped up that the endorphins were wreaking havoc on my ability to sleep last night. I feel no sorrow for you as you contemplate how awful that dull ache behind your sleep-deprived eyes is. Ok, maybe a little because I have to put up with it too, but still.
If you are going to take such good care of yourself that you have all this awesome energy, can we please make it happen during daylight when the rest of the world expects me to be a functioning unit? Not that being up and cleaning at 3am because there was nothing else to do was such a bad experience, but being up and feeling hung over without having had a drop of alcohol really kind of sucks.
I am sure we can navigate this bump in our relationship and will have many more years of a happy union.
Yours Truly,
Your Self.
I know if felt really awesome to get back out there and run yesterday evening, but you were so amped up that the endorphins were wreaking havoc on my ability to sleep last night. I feel no sorrow for you as you contemplate how awful that dull ache behind your sleep-deprived eyes is. Ok, maybe a little because I have to put up with it too, but still.
If you are going to take such good care of yourself that you have all this awesome energy, can we please make it happen during daylight when the rest of the world expects me to be a functioning unit? Not that being up and cleaning at 3am because there was nothing else to do was such a bad experience, but being up and feeling hung over without having had a drop of alcohol really kind of sucks.
I am sure we can navigate this bump in our relationship and will have many more years of a happy union.
Yours Truly,
Your Self.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Breaking through sloth
The sloth-like behavior was nice for a time but it began to be too much. SO! I went for a run. My first real run since my knee injury a few months ago, which I didn't really blog about because the whole thing was just so gracefully ridiculous.
Anyhow. I ran. And it was awesome. I decided to start the Couch to 5k program over again, so I started with week one. It was much easier than I could have hoped for this time around. Maybe that is because it isn't 95 degrees outside.
I had dinner with a good friend tonight and as we sat talking and catching up on this crazy life I realized something. I am happy. Not that I wasn't happy before, but for the first time in a while, my stress and my problems aren't defining me because I'm not letting them. There is plenty I could complain about, but I don't really want to. It is a relief to realize I have reached this point in my life.
Also, I would just like to say, for the record, that the Avett Brothers are awesome.
Anyhow. I ran. And it was awesome. I decided to start the Couch to 5k program over again, so I started with week one. It was much easier than I could have hoped for this time around. Maybe that is because it isn't 95 degrees outside.
I had dinner with a good friend tonight and as we sat talking and catching up on this crazy life I realized something. I am happy. Not that I wasn't happy before, but for the first time in a while, my stress and my problems aren't defining me because I'm not letting them. There is plenty I could complain about, but I don't really want to. It is a relief to realize I have reached this point in my life.
Also, I would just like to say, for the record, that the Avett Brothers are awesome.
Monday, March 15, 2010
In Which She Accomplishes Nothing
I have done absolutely nothing today except rock the sweat pants in a sexy manner, and read fluffy books that take no brain power. And cook food for myself. The only thing saving me from making and then eating an entire batch of cookies right now is the fact that I am out of sugar and have no chocolate chips. And the sweat pants make a persuasive argument for staying home. Besides. I have hot chocolate.
Some of you may be wondering what has sent me into hermititude and depression, but before the picture show in your head gets too far, let me tell you, I SO deserve this down time. It's finals week after all. And, I entered myself in the "mom of the year" contest this weekend letting Em have a sleep over (I even over heard the "your mom is so cool. my mom isn't special like yours, shes a different special though...), then hosting three children and four grown adults for the day (I cooked AND had a clean kitchen when all said and done. I am currently pondering just what super-human influence allowed me to accomplish this in my lazy stupor), and hung out with my mother the following day. Which was nice. But I was tired.
I woke up this morning with stuff to do. I got out of bed and did the most important, which is good because it means I continue to have a place to live. I promptly came home, thought of what else I should be doing, put my pajamas back on and curled up with my book. Maybe tomorrow I will work on my book some more and finish up that last assignment so I can take my online final. And maybe I will go grocery shopping, but I have enough vegetable matter in my fridge for a few days, so maybe not. I have rather enjoyed being lazy.
Happy Monday.
Some of you may be wondering what has sent me into hermititude and depression, but before the picture show in your head gets too far, let me tell you, I SO deserve this down time. It's finals week after all. And, I entered myself in the "mom of the year" contest this weekend letting Em have a sleep over (I even over heard the "your mom is so cool. my mom isn't special like yours, shes a different special though...), then hosting three children and four grown adults for the day (I cooked AND had a clean kitchen when all said and done. I am currently pondering just what super-human influence allowed me to accomplish this in my lazy stupor), and hung out with my mother the following day. Which was nice. But I was tired.
I woke up this morning with stuff to do. I got out of bed and did the most important, which is good because it means I continue to have a place to live. I promptly came home, thought of what else I should be doing, put my pajamas back on and curled up with my book. Maybe tomorrow I will work on my book some more and finish up that last assignment so I can take my online final. And maybe I will go grocery shopping, but I have enough vegetable matter in my fridge for a few days, so maybe not. I have rather enjoyed being lazy.
Happy Monday.
Friday, March 12, 2010
in/peccare
I have been receiving a lot of messages in life recently. Most of them are telling me to ignore people in one way or another. The attitude people project and the way they treat people is a projection of what is inside of them, and the way they feel about themselves. I think this is so valuable to remember. How many times has the way I am feeling about myself colored my feelings and actions towards other people? More than I care to admit. I am the kind of person who tends to take things really personally. There are certain people in my life with whom it is a constant struggle to not walk away from interactions with them angry or hurt. It helps me to remember just how miserable they are inside. (Not that I assume all assholes are miserable inside, but the ones I know well really are miserable inside.) It is not my responsibility to account for their misery, nor is it to make them feel better, or take some of the toxic load off of their shoulders. I am responsible for myself.
I was recently given a copy of "The Four Agreements" based on Toltec wisdom. The first agreement is to be impeccable with my words. Sounds simple enough right? The word comes from the latin word impeccabilis. In- (without) and -peccare (to sin). Sin is not only a biblicial thing, but an intent, a presence of malice. So to be impeccable with my words is to be without judgement, or falsity. (Is falsity a word? It is now...) To have an intent of positivity or gentleness. Not only with others, but with myself. This affects the way I interact with myself and with others. The way I approach, engage, and respond.
I have been working on this the last week or two. This and not internalizing the negativity of others. The pleasant side effect of this is that it has helped me cultivate positive attitudes and presence in life. I have this vision that can only be described as vitality. An attitude and feeling in life that I strive for. A way of life. A way of serving others. A way of being. It is closer. I can feel it.
I was recently given a copy of "The Four Agreements" based on Toltec wisdom. The first agreement is to be impeccable with my words. Sounds simple enough right? The word comes from the latin word impeccabilis. In- (without) and -peccare (to sin). Sin is not only a biblicial thing, but an intent, a presence of malice. So to be impeccable with my words is to be without judgement, or falsity. (Is falsity a word? It is now...) To have an intent of positivity or gentleness. Not only with others, but with myself. This affects the way I interact with myself and with others. The way I approach, engage, and respond.
I have been working on this the last week or two. This and not internalizing the negativity of others. The pleasant side effect of this is that it has helped me cultivate positive attitudes and presence in life. I have this vision that can only be described as vitality. An attitude and feeling in life that I strive for. A way of life. A way of serving others. A way of being. It is closer. I can feel it.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Clearing out the pantry
As spring approaches, and as I delve into my happiness project, I have been experiencing the strong urge to declutter my life. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. What an overwhelming task. I have lived in my home for 5 years now. It's the longest I have ever lived in one place in my entire life. I love that fact. But what I have learned is that being stationary enables me to collect more "stuff". Piles of old mail have hidden themselves away on shelves, in nooks, and crannies. Notes from friends, lovers, and nemeses stored away because I wanted to keep them for one reason or another. The good ones were to remind me of the happiness, warmth and love. The negative ones were most likely being saved for a court date. Knick knacks, copious amounts of art work, and other kidlet stuff are abound. Way too many shoes. Clothes that have been on the hanger so long they literally have collected dust. More yarn that I will ever need. Camping gear. And all of this, just in my bedroom closet. It's ridiculous. I spent three hours in there today. Three garbage bags of recycling, two of clothes, one of paper needing to be shredded and then recycled, one giant one of craft supplies, and two of random knick knacks. It's organized. It's spacious. It's awesome. As I dropped off the donations and dumped the recycling, I felt so light and airy that I wanted to dance.
I realized something today. I started out with the intention of clearing my physical clutter because at first glance that would be the easiest to tackle. However, I noticed that most of my physical clutter is tied to me emotionally in some way. It makes perfect sense, but it was an AHA moment for me. Letting it all go was such a relief, yet also a very emotional experience for me. Reading through letters I was reminded how wonderful the people in my life are, and how some of those connections have disappeared. Going through clothes and jewelry I forgot I even owned I was reminded of occasions in which they were worn. Some good, some bad. The most difficult was the journal of dealings and goings on between my childs father and I right after I left. Reading the things he did or said put me right there all over again. Being able to look at all of these experiences, and then let them go, or put them away, was so freeing!
I have always been a sentimental person. I have a piece of yarn that was part of a worship service at a youth con where I met my two best friends at when I was 15. I have stupid overwhelming stacks of pictures from all different parts of my life. But today I noticed that while it's nice to be able to look back at theses things, it weighs me down more than I'd like. Maybe I have romaticized parts of my past, and that interferes with my present because nothing now is as good as what I created in my mind as 'then'. Also, knowing that there were piles of old bills, invoices, pay stubs was so depressing. Seeing them was like adding one more weight to my shoulders. That constant reminders of the money I owe, the money I don't have, the money I wasn't smart with. I don't need that hanging over my day. Throwing out the paper part of those lessons doesn't mean I will have learned less from my experiences in the past. I still have that in me.
Also, seeing so much evidence of my work and my progress makes me feel like a bad ass!
I realized something today. I started out with the intention of clearing my physical clutter because at first glance that would be the easiest to tackle. However, I noticed that most of my physical clutter is tied to me emotionally in some way. It makes perfect sense, but it was an AHA moment for me. Letting it all go was such a relief, yet also a very emotional experience for me. Reading through letters I was reminded how wonderful the people in my life are, and how some of those connections have disappeared. Going through clothes and jewelry I forgot I even owned I was reminded of occasions in which they were worn. Some good, some bad. The most difficult was the journal of dealings and goings on between my childs father and I right after I left. Reading the things he did or said put me right there all over again. Being able to look at all of these experiences, and then let them go, or put them away, was so freeing!
I have always been a sentimental person. I have a piece of yarn that was part of a worship service at a youth con where I met my two best friends at when I was 15. I have stupid overwhelming stacks of pictures from all different parts of my life. But today I noticed that while it's nice to be able to look back at theses things, it weighs me down more than I'd like. Maybe I have romaticized parts of my past, and that interferes with my present because nothing now is as good as what I created in my mind as 'then'. Also, knowing that there were piles of old bills, invoices, pay stubs was so depressing. Seeing them was like adding one more weight to my shoulders. That constant reminders of the money I owe, the money I don't have, the money I wasn't smart with. I don't need that hanging over my day. Throwing out the paper part of those lessons doesn't mean I will have learned less from my experiences in the past. I still have that in me.
Also, seeing so much evidence of my work and my progress makes me feel like a bad ass!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Happiness Project Launch Party....er...blog post!
This book really kicked me in the ass and got me to thinking. So much of life is spent working towards something in the future. I get caught up in that. "Once I do ____, or make ____, or go to _____, life will be happier!" I have a great life! I am happy right now! But I could be spending so much more time on NOW then I do. I was to appreciate life more, enjoy it more, spend more time savoring the now so that when I hit hard times, I have this to carry me through it.
So, I am starting my own little happiness project. I started by making a list of my own personal commandments to abide by, writing down some Secrets to Adulthood that I already know, and swimming in the essence of the Happiness Manifesto that I just posted in the previous entry. I have a couple resolutions to get me going on the first couple of months, and I am excited to see where this takes me!
My personal commandments of happiness are:
- Be Amber
- Let tomorrow come tomorrow
- Act the way I want to feel
- Remember the days are long but the years are short-savor it all now
- Be good to myself and others everyday
- Embrace the need to write
- Do it now
- Enjoy the process
- There is only love
you can learn more about or start your own happiness project using tools and outlines found at www.happinessprojecttoolbox.com.
Gretchen Rubin's Happiness Manifesto.
A Happiness Manifesto
- To be happy, you need to consider feeling good, feeling bad, and feeling right, in an atmosphere of growth.
- One of the best ways to make yourself happy is to make other people happy; One of the best ways to make other people happy is to be happy yourself.
- The days are long, but the years are short.
- You're not happy unless you think you're happy.
- Your body matters.
- Happiness is other people.
- Think about yourself so you can forget yourself.
- "It is easy to be heavy: hard to be light."—G. K. Chesterton
- What's fun for other people may not be fun for you, and vice versa.
- Best is good, better is best.
- Outer order contributes to inner calm.
- Happiness comes not from having more, not from having less, but from wanting what you have.
- You can choose what you do, but you can't choose what you like to do.
- "There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy." —Robert Louis Stevenson
- You manage what you measure.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Reasons my kid is awesome #547 and #892
#547: Today we were walking across campus and Emily said "Mom, do you remember that time we were walking down here and Ben jumped out of the bushes and scared me? I think he was playing psychic!"
#892: Emily is in the bath tub, picking her teeth vie her reflection in that circular metal knob thing (what are those for anyway?).
Em: Mom, where do babies come from?
Me: They come out of their mommy's vagina.
Em: But where before that?
Me: They live in their mommy's uterus until they have grown enough to come out.
Em: But how do they get there?
Me: They get there when a man and a woman have sex.
Em: What's sex?
Me: *deep breathe* Sexual intercourse is where a man sticks his penis in a womans vagina. Sometimes, it results in the woman becoming pregnant.
Em: *blank astonished look and long silence* *glance at her own vagina* *confused look back at me* I bet he forgot.
Me: What?
Em: The man, I bet he forgot about putting his penis in her 'gina!
Then she calmly returned to picking her teeth.
#892: Emily is in the bath tub, picking her teeth vie her reflection in that circular metal knob thing (what are those for anyway?).
Em: Mom, where do babies come from?
Me: They come out of their mommy's vagina.
Em: But where before that?
Me: They live in their mommy's uterus until they have grown enough to come out.
Em: But how do they get there?
Me: They get there when a man and a woman have sex.
Em: What's sex?
Me: *deep breathe* Sexual intercourse is where a man sticks his penis in a womans vagina. Sometimes, it results in the woman becoming pregnant.
Em: *blank astonished look and long silence* *glance at her own vagina* *confused look back at me* I bet he forgot.
Me: What?
Em: The man, I bet he forgot about putting his penis in her 'gina!
Then she calmly returned to picking her teeth.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
The Grandma Jo memoirs. take 1.
My Grandma Joanne was a remarkable woman. She never learned how to swim, and never left the country, but she was smarter than most people I know. When I was little she taught me the magic of growing things in the ground to sustain us. She would dig the holes, in rows of tilled soil, and I would drop the seeds in. Together we would cover this little spark of life and water it. Within the weeks that would pass, waiting for something to grow, she would teach me about flowers, let me walk the dog, and bake me cookies or make me milkshakes. When the corn stalks were tall enough to tower over both of our heads (she was a relatively short woman), we would run up and down the rows of the green silk stalks, laughing. I can hear her whimsical voice, "Come find meeeee" as she disappeared around the corner of a row.
She taught me how to write my name, how to crack the eggs into the batter, and the proper way to cuddle up on the couch. She would embrace me, surround me, and hold me in what I remember as her M&M blanket. A crocheted blanket that was the color of M&M's, her favorite candy. We would lay there and watch National Geographic shows or the Discovery channel. She used to grow pumpkins every year. And when they were still green she would take me and my cousins out there and carve each of our names in one. Our very own pumpkin.
My grandma had a very comforting smell. Clinique moisturizer, sunshine, baking, and love. When I was at her house shortly after her death, I opened a drawer of her sweaters and I could smell her. It was as if she were right there with me. Holding me one last time. I wish I had taken the time to hold her, at least one more time before she left. To tell her I love her. To tell her how very much she meant to me, how foundational she is to who I am and what I hold dear in this life. Her patience was unmatched. Her guidance and nurturing are some of the warmest memories I have. Her presence was a comfort to me.
I felt her here tonight. I could smell her. Standing behind me like she used to when I was waist high, with her arm around me so that I could lean back into her. I used to love being that close to her. So close that I could feel her chuckle. So close that her love would wrap me up and keep me safe and warm.
She taught me how to write my name, how to crack the eggs into the batter, and the proper way to cuddle up on the couch. She would embrace me, surround me, and hold me in what I remember as her M&M blanket. A crocheted blanket that was the color of M&M's, her favorite candy. We would lay there and watch National Geographic shows or the Discovery channel. She used to grow pumpkins every year. And when they were still green she would take me and my cousins out there and carve each of our names in one. Our very own pumpkin.
My grandma had a very comforting smell. Clinique moisturizer, sunshine, baking, and love. When I was at her house shortly after her death, I opened a drawer of her sweaters and I could smell her. It was as if she were right there with me. Holding me one last time. I wish I had taken the time to hold her, at least one more time before she left. To tell her I love her. To tell her how very much she meant to me, how foundational she is to who I am and what I hold dear in this life. Her patience was unmatched. Her guidance and nurturing are some of the warmest memories I have. Her presence was a comfort to me.
I felt her here tonight. I could smell her. Standing behind me like she used to when I was waist high, with her arm around me so that I could lean back into her. I used to love being that close to her. So close that I could feel her chuckle. So close that her love would wrap me up and keep me safe and warm.
where are you going, my little one, little one?
The ways in which little girls play amongst themselves really baffles me. They compete, they cut each other down, and one up each other. Everything is a game of who has the better this or that, who is wearing the coolest ___, or who is the best at___. Just listening to it takes my self-esteem down a few notches and gives the creeps. Where do they learn this? What happened to the nice, playing together and being positive, uplifting friends stage? I liked that one.
This stage, not so much. As a parent who may or may not have an overprotective tendency, it is really difficult to listen to two girls sort through these issues on their own without intervening with a grouchy "CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?!" There is value in letting children figure out how to navigate through other peoples bullshit, but damn. There is that fine line. The line in which on one side I am explaining why the way those words sounded may have hurt the other persons feelings and suggesting we look for a better way to say it, and then there is the other side where I am dancing up and down madly, pulling my hair out (or imagine myself doing so in my head) as I say wildly "Will you two just knock it off? I am tired of listening to you to treat each other this way!" Depending on delivery, that last part might not be so bad but it seems that every time I say that, the response I get is "But we are just playing!"
When did playing become so mean? Or has it really always been this way and I have just done a really excellent job of blocking all of my own childhood experiences from memory? Of course, this also may be where the whole 'more friends that are boys than girls' thing comes in.
On the up side, I made some awesome gluten free cupcakes tonight.
This stage, not so much. As a parent who may or may not have an overprotective tendency, it is really difficult to listen to two girls sort through these issues on their own without intervening with a grouchy "CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?!" There is value in letting children figure out how to navigate through other peoples bullshit, but damn. There is that fine line. The line in which on one side I am explaining why the way those words sounded may have hurt the other persons feelings and suggesting we look for a better way to say it, and then there is the other side where I am dancing up and down madly, pulling my hair out (or imagine myself doing so in my head) as I say wildly "Will you two just knock it off? I am tired of listening to you to treat each other this way!" Depending on delivery, that last part might not be so bad but it seems that every time I say that, the response I get is "But we are just playing!"
When did playing become so mean? Or has it really always been this way and I have just done a really excellent job of blocking all of my own childhood experiences from memory? Of course, this also may be where the whole 'more friends that are boys than girls' thing comes in.
On the up side, I made some awesome gluten free cupcakes tonight.
Credo Week, day four: What is my faith?
What do I trust?
What experiences have taught me to trust?
Where do I look for strength and encouragement?
How do I celebrate my life and experiences?
What do I trust in that does not require explanation?
What has earned my unconditional trust and faith? Why?
I trust in the power of love for one another. I trust in strength of passions that drive us to become more authentic selves. I trust that the Universe wants me to succeed and has provided me with options to do so. I trust in my ability to listen to these things. I trust that this moment, as with the last, shall pass and make room for the next moment. Nature has a way of doing things. It may take longer than I want it to, but it works out in the end the way that it should. Childbirth is a perfect example of this. It hurts. It takes a long time, and your body does things you never thought it could, would, or should. But in the end, the nature of your body has produced a tiny human being and seen its passage into this world. I think all of life is like this. If I can only take the time to stop long enough to feel the natural passage from this step to the next, I will see what is meant to be. Or maybe I won't, but I will feel nature there at work. I trust in this process because when I quit believing in it, it was still there. Life was still happening all around me. Plants and animals and people, still living, breathing, loving. Still there.
Strength and encouragement is all around me. I can find it when I am looking, and sometimes, even when I'm not. Because it is in the nature of the Universe, and in the nature of people, to care for one another. I go to the mountains, or to the beach to sit and listen to the quiet drum of the earth that consoles me and strengthens me when I am down. I can watch the waves roll in and out and am reminded that life is like this. A wave rolls in, and I am close to divinity, it rolls out, and divinity is pulling me to where I might be meant to go. I trust in this guidance. And I trust in my ability to choose which way to turn. I trust in the ability to hear the divine through the people in my life. Wisdom can be found in the most wondrous, unexepected places. My daughter can find it in a slug making it's way across the sidewalk. I strive to be able to do this as well. When I listen to the words and experiences of others, I am strengthened in my belief in the potential of us all. When I trust their intentions and support, I am strengthened in my belief in myself.
I celebrate my life and experiences with my community. With my circle of loved ones. With my friends, family, my church. It is in sharing our joys with each other that I am reinvested in my faith. My faith in people, and my faith in nature. I celebrate out in the open, and I celebrate quietly inside of myself too. Even my failures are worth celebrating as long as they have jarred my consciousness enough to make me think in a new way about what I have failed.
I have unconditional trust and faith in the human experience. It is all that I can trust in sometimes. Life may be going in a direction that is not in my favor, but it is still an experience. My human-ness is the lens through which I experience it all, it is a foundation for my reception of and reaction to it all. All of life will be my human experience, whether I embrace it or not. I have unconditional trust and faith in my ability to choose. I have the power to view this all as an adventure, to let love in, to laugh and to learn. Just as I have the choice to hunker down and put my blinders on, as if this shall pass over like a terrible storm. And I have unconditional trust and faith in the experience of love. My faith is love. It is my experience of the divine. It is my expression of the divine. We nurture and care and support because of love. We defend and fight because of love. We learn and grow and move because of love. We accept, serve, give and receive because of love. Because of life.
What experiences have taught me to trust?
Where do I look for strength and encouragement?
How do I celebrate my life and experiences?
What do I trust in that does not require explanation?
What has earned my unconditional trust and faith? Why?
I trust in the power of love for one another. I trust in strength of passions that drive us to become more authentic selves. I trust that the Universe wants me to succeed and has provided me with options to do so. I trust in my ability to listen to these things. I trust that this moment, as with the last, shall pass and make room for the next moment. Nature has a way of doing things. It may take longer than I want it to, but it works out in the end the way that it should. Childbirth is a perfect example of this. It hurts. It takes a long time, and your body does things you never thought it could, would, or should. But in the end, the nature of your body has produced a tiny human being and seen its passage into this world. I think all of life is like this. If I can only take the time to stop long enough to feel the natural passage from this step to the next, I will see what is meant to be. Or maybe I won't, but I will feel nature there at work. I trust in this process because when I quit believing in it, it was still there. Life was still happening all around me. Plants and animals and people, still living, breathing, loving. Still there.
Strength and encouragement is all around me. I can find it when I am looking, and sometimes, even when I'm not. Because it is in the nature of the Universe, and in the nature of people, to care for one another. I go to the mountains, or to the beach to sit and listen to the quiet drum of the earth that consoles me and strengthens me when I am down. I can watch the waves roll in and out and am reminded that life is like this. A wave rolls in, and I am close to divinity, it rolls out, and divinity is pulling me to where I might be meant to go. I trust in this guidance. And I trust in my ability to choose which way to turn. I trust in the ability to hear the divine through the people in my life. Wisdom can be found in the most wondrous, unexepected places. My daughter can find it in a slug making it's way across the sidewalk. I strive to be able to do this as well. When I listen to the words and experiences of others, I am strengthened in my belief in the potential of us all. When I trust their intentions and support, I am strengthened in my belief in myself.
I celebrate my life and experiences with my community. With my circle of loved ones. With my friends, family, my church. It is in sharing our joys with each other that I am reinvested in my faith. My faith in people, and my faith in nature. I celebrate out in the open, and I celebrate quietly inside of myself too. Even my failures are worth celebrating as long as they have jarred my consciousness enough to make me think in a new way about what I have failed.
I have unconditional trust and faith in the human experience. It is all that I can trust in sometimes. Life may be going in a direction that is not in my favor, but it is still an experience. My human-ness is the lens through which I experience it all, it is a foundation for my reception of and reaction to it all. All of life will be my human experience, whether I embrace it or not. I have unconditional trust and faith in my ability to choose. I have the power to view this all as an adventure, to let love in, to laugh and to learn. Just as I have the choice to hunker down and put my blinders on, as if this shall pass over like a terrible storm. And I have unconditional trust and faith in the experience of love. My faith is love. It is my experience of the divine. It is my expression of the divine. We nurture and care and support because of love. We defend and fight because of love. We learn and grow and move because of love. We accept, serve, give and receive because of love. Because of life.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Credo Week, day three: Why Am I Here?
What is my purpose?
What have I been doing with my life?
What would the last chapter of my autobiography look like if it were already written?
What will I do with my gifts?
My purpose in this life is to heal people. To give more love than I receive. And to help nurture the passions of people around me. It is through these things that I feel most fulfilled and content. It is through these things I will leave this world a better place. Or, at least my little corner of it.
With my life, I have done a tremendous amount of wandering around inside of myself, and my immediate surroundings, searching for what has felt true for me. Growing up, in my teens, I poured my existence into my Unitarian identity and experiences because it was the first place I found that celebrated who I was when I got there, who I was while I was there, and who I was when I left. Because of this, I put energy in my life towards creating that for others. I have not taken very many of the traditional paths that have come my way, and for a while, this bothered me. Until I realized that it is because I have done things differently that I know what I do, that I feel what I do, and that I would not have been satisfied doing it any other way. I have immersed myself in communities I never would have found had I gone straight to college. I have experienced ways of life that I wouldn't have had time for had I been busy "becoming my grown-up self". I have tried professions I wouldn't have found. It is through these experiences that I have learned a lot about what I don't want to be, and more than a little about what I do. None of these experiences even comes close to the experience of being a mom. By parenting my child the way I want her to be raised I have learned the kind of world I want to create around me. I have had to teach myself to be intentional about my life. The people I let into it, the food that I eat, the way that I speak, the way I show love. Everything. It is through caring so intensely for her that I have learned that my radical act of love and change in this world has to be through helping the lives of others, that is the only way it will feel genuine to me. I have been given a tremendous amount of love and support from those around me, in ways big and small, and for me to walk away from that and not pay it forward would be unfortunate. And ungrateful of me. I have been cradled at times I needed it most so that I could pick myself up again and keep going. It is through these gestures of love and generosity that I have learned just how much we all need each other. The walls that we as people and societies build up between ourselves do us no service. They prevent us from realizing how connected we all really are. They justify the times when we consciously choose not to be good to each other, and prevent us from seeing the damage we do to all, when we damage one.
I like imagining what the last chapter of my autobiography will be like. My life is a collection of stories already, what will it be like then? I will be an old, opinionated, content, crotchedy woman surrounded by the people I love. I will sit on my porch with Vanessa, wearing moo-moo's with our obscenely colored hair, being as honest and blunt as I chose; because I will have overcome my irrational fear of expressing myself at the expense of others to the point where it is at the expense of myself. I will have a beautiful garden that all the neighborhood will come to help in, to learn in, and to be in community together. The lives of hundreds of people will be healthier, and lived with more intention because of my work with them. My daughter will be grown, happy, and healthy, living out her passions with as much love and support as I can give her and as she will take. Hatchets buried, I will be at peace with the things in my life that did not go as smoothly as I had hoped. I will have traveled to many places and experienced many cultures and ways of life. I will have been of service to the people that I encounter. I will have known love of every kind. I will live in among the trees, in harmony with the earth and all the living things around me. I will be a modern day Mrs. Piggle Wiggle with a wild streak. Life will be creative, and beautiful, and lived.
With my gifts, I will do what I can to live my values and heal my surroundings. With my gifts I will draw in love, I will give away love, I will feel it all around me. With my gifts, I will help people realize their own, help them choose the life they want, help them realize it. With my gifts, I will create change and harmony. With my gifts I will live, so that others may also live.
What have I been doing with my life?
What would the last chapter of my autobiography look like if it were already written?
What will I do with my gifts?
My purpose in this life is to heal people. To give more love than I receive. And to help nurture the passions of people around me. It is through these things that I feel most fulfilled and content. It is through these things I will leave this world a better place. Or, at least my little corner of it.
With my life, I have done a tremendous amount of wandering around inside of myself, and my immediate surroundings, searching for what has felt true for me. Growing up, in my teens, I poured my existence into my Unitarian identity and experiences because it was the first place I found that celebrated who I was when I got there, who I was while I was there, and who I was when I left. Because of this, I put energy in my life towards creating that for others. I have not taken very many of the traditional paths that have come my way, and for a while, this bothered me. Until I realized that it is because I have done things differently that I know what I do, that I feel what I do, and that I would not have been satisfied doing it any other way. I have immersed myself in communities I never would have found had I gone straight to college. I have experienced ways of life that I wouldn't have had time for had I been busy "becoming my grown-up self". I have tried professions I wouldn't have found. It is through these experiences that I have learned a lot about what I don't want to be, and more than a little about what I do. None of these experiences even comes close to the experience of being a mom. By parenting my child the way I want her to be raised I have learned the kind of world I want to create around me. I have had to teach myself to be intentional about my life. The people I let into it, the food that I eat, the way that I speak, the way I show love. Everything. It is through caring so intensely for her that I have learned that my radical act of love and change in this world has to be through helping the lives of others, that is the only way it will feel genuine to me. I have been given a tremendous amount of love and support from those around me, in ways big and small, and for me to walk away from that and not pay it forward would be unfortunate. And ungrateful of me. I have been cradled at times I needed it most so that I could pick myself up again and keep going. It is through these gestures of love and generosity that I have learned just how much we all need each other. The walls that we as people and societies build up between ourselves do us no service. They prevent us from realizing how connected we all really are. They justify the times when we consciously choose not to be good to each other, and prevent us from seeing the damage we do to all, when we damage one.
I like imagining what the last chapter of my autobiography will be like. My life is a collection of stories already, what will it be like then? I will be an old, opinionated, content, crotchedy woman surrounded by the people I love. I will sit on my porch with Vanessa, wearing moo-moo's with our obscenely colored hair, being as honest and blunt as I chose; because I will have overcome my irrational fear of expressing myself at the expense of others to the point where it is at the expense of myself. I will have a beautiful garden that all the neighborhood will come to help in, to learn in, and to be in community together. The lives of hundreds of people will be healthier, and lived with more intention because of my work with them. My daughter will be grown, happy, and healthy, living out her passions with as much love and support as I can give her and as she will take. Hatchets buried, I will be at peace with the things in my life that did not go as smoothly as I had hoped. I will have traveled to many places and experienced many cultures and ways of life. I will have been of service to the people that I encounter. I will have known love of every kind. I will live in among the trees, in harmony with the earth and all the living things around me. I will be a modern day Mrs. Piggle Wiggle with a wild streak. Life will be creative, and beautiful, and lived.
With my gifts, I will do what I can to live my values and heal my surroundings. With my gifts I will draw in love, I will give away love, I will feel it all around me. With my gifts, I will help people realize their own, help them choose the life they want, help them realize it. With my gifts, I will create change and harmony. With my gifts I will live, so that others may also live.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Credo Week, day two: What is good, right, true?
WHAT IS GOOD, RIGHT, TRUE?
What values and authorities do I respect and why?
Who do I consider a role model?
What examples do I follow?
Do I base my ethical choices on rules, culture, consequences or something else entirely?
Does human evil exist and if so how so?
How could I change the world to be a better place and what do I do already?
What do I believe about ultimate authority, God(s) and/or Goddess(es)?
Who has the power to decide the truth?
There is plenty in this world that is good, right, and true. Too many people try to define this for everyone else, yet cannot define what it means for themselves when they look within. Maybe this is because when we look within, we have to face the times when we have not chosen what is good, right, and true? I have a special admiration and respect for people who know beyond any doubt what their values are. Or have the courage to evaluate and change accordingly so that they are true to themselves in this moment. I value and respect people who have the courage to broadcast their values to a general public that has no obligation to be joyous or even respectful of those values. I may not agree with another's values, but the fact that they are strong enough in their belief is something I envy at times.
I value those walks of life that take into account their impact on the world around them. I value the kindness and decency of treating others as you'd like to be treated, and I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that what we put out into the universe comes back to us threefold. I respect people who have the mindfulness to be able to see through the exterior that people put up and realize that we are all struggling at times, that what we portray of ourselves on the outside is not the whole person we really are, and that can treat everyone with patience and gentleness. I struggle with this sometimes.
I think everyone is a role model. Not necessarily a good one though. Some people step up to the challenge and responsibility and live their lives as a role model, wearing their values on their sleeves and letting their actions speak for them. Others tend to ignore or not see the potential they have in affecting change, or hide from that responsibility, because it is a huge one to live up to. It requires us to be accountable for our choices and actions in life. It means being able to know and explain why we eat, live, act the way we do. It also means acknowledging and accepting the times when we did not do right by ourselves or others, learning from it, and then incorporating that lesson into who we are. Not everyone is conscious enough of themselves to do this. Who do I see as role models is my life? There are so many. The first three that come to mind are my daughter, for her endless ability to see the magic in life and remember what is good and important. My mother, for her strength she has for others. I have never seen someone sacrifice so much or be so steadfast in times of struggle as she has in my lifetime. She is also a role model to me because she has exhibited that when you sacrifice of yourself too much, that strength becomes a weakness, and through her, I have learned to care for myself. And St. Therese of Lisieux. Her dedication to being happy in order to help others be happy is inspiring. In her book she talks about making a point to feel love for another nun in the convent who she was least fond of, by way of smiling at her always and greeting her with love. I think if we all took time to be nicer to ourselves, those we love, and especially those we don't, the world be a lot more stable.
Does human evil exist? Maybe in the choices that we make. I don't believe that anyone is inherently evil. The idea of original sin is silly to me. We are all a product of our environment and as we grow older we become our own person, and make choices accordingly. We each have to power to make our lives as good, happy, hard, or evil as we choose. To a large extent I feel all of life is a choice for each of us. It is easier to leave ultimate authority to a Diety for some, but when it comes down to standing there deciding to help the person who has tripped in the middle of the street or walk away, I am the only person debating what to do inside of my head. At the end of the day, I may feel my choice aligned with my Great Spirit, or maybe it didn't and it is fuel to try more next time. Ultimate authority rests within ourselves, we choose to give it up to someone or something else, but we have the ability to take control of it. Diety, to me, serves as guidance and gentle support, not ruler and judge.
At the end of the day, truth is decided within me. I live my life based on my intuitions, and so far, the times I have listened to it, it hasn't failed me yet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)