I was thinking about doing the right thing--how I think it should be easy to always make decisions based on what is right and how I sometimes choose just to go along with things I know are inherently wrong simply because I don't want to make waves or make a scene. I don't know why that is. I don't know if it's an indication of a deep character flaw on my part, but I'm fairly certain that it is. I know it's impossible to be perfect, to live the perfect life, always choosing wisely. But when I look back on my life, I see so many instances where I should have done things differently, when I should have spoken up or questioned more, or fought harder to make my truths be as important as I allowed everyone else's truth be for them. It makes me feel like I've given away important pieces of who I really am--a selling out of my soul for a few moments of serenity that never make up for what I've lost.
I know people who are not afraid of speaking up and defending their truths. Some of them are much younger than me and I wonder where they get the courage to be so strong so early in life. I study everything about those kinds of people looking for clues to see how they make it look so easy. It's taken me half a lifetime to get to the point where I am not afraid anymore, but even now I still find myself tempted to keep my mouth shut because there will be less fallout, less drama if I allow my truths to take a back seat.
Here's the thing: I want to be better than that. I want to risk being uncomfortable. I want to be what I know I can and should be. I've tried to remember back to when it became important to me that I just go along, and all I can remember is that it's how I've always been. I want to be someone different than that because I do not want to regret not changing after recognizing the error of my ways. I don't watch Dr. Phil anymore, but I used to. I think he would say something like, "when you know better, you do better"--and I think that's a perfect sentiment.
Playing it safe for the sake of a false sense of peace is wearing me out from the inside. The people I love best in this world are the people who say what's on their mind and don't worry about anyone else. And I think what I love most about those people is that they seem to have figured out that they are only saying what everyone else is thinking behind your back. They find a way to live their best lives without all the censors most of us have drilled into us and though they might not have a bunch of superfluous friends on hand like everyone else, the people they do have around them are pretty stellar. That's what I've discovered.
When I do the wrong thing, it inevitably stays with me forever. I replay scenes in my head and I think about how free I would be feeling if only I was brave enough to stand behind what I know is right. I'm going to work on that. I want to feel free.
Showing posts with label beautiful life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beautiful life. Show all posts
Friday, March 5, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
the 7 o'clock hour of dread
Just recently I have been noticing a growing sense of dread coming over me when the 7 o'clock hour rolls around. This is the time of the evening when my youngest daughter has taken to calling me to chat about her day. When I say chat I guess I really mean complain. For 30 minutes to an hour, I get a run down of what's been happening since the last time I spoke with her (within 24 hours at most.) Her list of complaints gets longer by the day and sometimes I think my brain will burst from all the negativity. Here are some of the things she complains about:
....being really, really tired, her feet hurting from walking to and from class, how much homework she has, how overly liberal her professors are, how hot it is in her dorm, how her roommate is super messy, how her roommate keeps her up at night because her classes don't start till the afternoon, how the food in the cafeteria sucks, how much she hates the showers in the dorm, how her head is aching from one thing or another, how uncomfortable her bed is, how she is out of diet coke with caffeine, how there is still an infestation of ladybugs in her dorm room even though I've called to complain about it numerous times as has she, how late the buses always are, how heavy her book bag is and how it is making her shoulders ache, how hot or cold it is outside that day, how slow her computer is, how her phone is getting on her nerves, how she hates her haircut, how she's bored, how she's out of money, how she forgot her favorite top at home the last time she visited and that's what she wants to wear tomorrow....and on and on and on...
Since August 14th, I have been getting these calls on a nightly basis, and it's taken until this past week or so to finally feel I'm at my limit. At around 6 PM, I start feeling edgy, anticipating the call, and when I see her name pop up on my phone, I think, "Oh, here we go again!" I flip open the phone, take a deep breath, and ask her about her day.
A number of years ago, when my children were young, I wrote a poem called, A Good Mother. The poem listed all the things a good mother would do that I did not do. It starts, "A good mother wakes up in the morning and makes her children eggs..." because that's what I've always thought good mothers should do. Me? I served toast and cereal because it was easy and fast. I slipped eggs into their diet at night when I would occasionally serve breakfast for dinner, but I never felt I should get credit for that because it felt like I was cheating. Truth be told, I was too lazy and grumpy to make eggs in the morning and as far as I was concerned, that's what a good mother would do.
That poem felt like a purging of all the awful things I felt about myself as a mother--all the "shoulds" I couldn't manage to do---all the ways I felt I was falling short. I'm not sure what happened to that poem but if I find it, I'll post it here so you can see where my head was at. There is a quiet sadness about stay at home mothers that nobody seems to notice. We never hear enough good things about how important and difficult our job is. Never.
That poem came back to me today when I started writing this because I imagine if I wrote it today I would probably say something like, "A good mother would listen to her college age daughter complain without watching the clock to see when the call might be over." After hanging up with her, I find myself heading to the kitchen to look for something crunchy to eat like pretzels, or something crunchy AND sweet like Frosted Mini Wheats which I eat out of the box until I have my fill. I crunch and crunch and crunch and crunch. Can y'all hear me wherever you are?
If I'm extra lucky, on those same nights I get a call from my daughter, my husband will be out of town and call me to recount his list of complaints so that I get a double dose of downers. I can be bobbing around the ceiling like a helium balloon all day, and in no time, my feet are planted back on the ground where good mothers and good wives listen with compassion, and promise with conviction, that tomorrow will be better, for sure.
....being really, really tired, her feet hurting from walking to and from class, how much homework she has, how overly liberal her professors are, how hot it is in her dorm, how her roommate is super messy, how her roommate keeps her up at night because her classes don't start till the afternoon, how the food in the cafeteria sucks, how much she hates the showers in the dorm, how her head is aching from one thing or another, how uncomfortable her bed is, how she is out of diet coke with caffeine, how there is still an infestation of ladybugs in her dorm room even though I've called to complain about it numerous times as has she, how late the buses always are, how heavy her book bag is and how it is making her shoulders ache, how hot or cold it is outside that day, how slow her computer is, how her phone is getting on her nerves, how she hates her haircut, how she's bored, how she's out of money, how she forgot her favorite top at home the last time she visited and that's what she wants to wear tomorrow....and on and on and on...
Since August 14th, I have been getting these calls on a nightly basis, and it's taken until this past week or so to finally feel I'm at my limit. At around 6 PM, I start feeling edgy, anticipating the call, and when I see her name pop up on my phone, I think, "Oh, here we go again!" I flip open the phone, take a deep breath, and ask her about her day.
A number of years ago, when my children were young, I wrote a poem called, A Good Mother. The poem listed all the things a good mother would do that I did not do. It starts, "A good mother wakes up in the morning and makes her children eggs..." because that's what I've always thought good mothers should do. Me? I served toast and cereal because it was easy and fast. I slipped eggs into their diet at night when I would occasionally serve breakfast for dinner, but I never felt I should get credit for that because it felt like I was cheating. Truth be told, I was too lazy and grumpy to make eggs in the morning and as far as I was concerned, that's what a good mother would do.
That poem felt like a purging of all the awful things I felt about myself as a mother--all the "shoulds" I couldn't manage to do---all the ways I felt I was falling short. I'm not sure what happened to that poem but if I find it, I'll post it here so you can see where my head was at. There is a quiet sadness about stay at home mothers that nobody seems to notice. We never hear enough good things about how important and difficult our job is. Never.
That poem came back to me today when I started writing this because I imagine if I wrote it today I would probably say something like, "A good mother would listen to her college age daughter complain without watching the clock to see when the call might be over." After hanging up with her, I find myself heading to the kitchen to look for something crunchy to eat like pretzels, or something crunchy AND sweet like Frosted Mini Wheats which I eat out of the box until I have my fill. I crunch and crunch and crunch and crunch. Can y'all hear me wherever you are?
If I'm extra lucky, on those same nights I get a call from my daughter, my husband will be out of town and call me to recount his list of complaints so that I get a double dose of downers. I can be bobbing around the ceiling like a helium balloon all day, and in no time, my feet are planted back on the ground where good mothers and good wives listen with compassion, and promise with conviction, that tomorrow will be better, for sure.
Friday, January 29, 2010
you wanted something more than this
My husband is in one room and he hears the water running but he thinks it's someone taking a shower. I am in another room, with my daughter, watching a Jersey Shore episode I have DVR'd and saved to watch with her when she comes home on the weekend from college. We cannot explain why we love that show--we just do. We laugh about their accents and their hair and the ridiculous tans they get from tanning beds when the beach sits right outside their front door. I hear water at one point, but it is raining outside and so I shake my head and tell myself it's just rain. More time passes and I hear the sound of water again and I think to myself that something is not right, that it sounds as though it is raining INSIDE the house. I walk out of the room and I turn towards the sound of the water and discover it is coming from the bathroom. The toilet has overflowed and flooded everywhere.
I start screaming OMG but then I shift into clean-up mode. I am good in a crisis. I panic initially for a number of seconds, but then you can count on me to find a way out of whatever mess I am in with quiet and cool. You want me on your side because I can make you believe everything will be ok, that I can fix anything. My husband is just the opposite. He can be counted on to help, but he cannot give up on his raging against whatever mess we are in. He screams and he rages and he does not get that nothing he says will change the fact that we simply need to shut up and deal with what's in front of us. He makes whatever mess we're in a thousand times worse just because he cannot keep his mouth shut.
We spend the afternoon wet vacuuming up the excess water and attempting to dry the carpets with big, industrial sized fans. The entire time we are dealing with this mess, my husband is screaming his lungs out about everything. How he is sick of living this way, how hard he works and how much he hates living with the insanity of toilets overflowing, etc., etc., etc. He can turn the smallest thing into the biggest problem and the biggest problem into something much worse without even trying. In my head I am plotting how I will leave him even though I know I will never go anywhere. It helps to pretend there is a place I can go when madness is all around me.
That evening, after cleaning up all the toilet water we've been knee deep in all day, we head off to see the play Annie downtown. It is still raining outside--the freezing kind of rain that makes you think the whole world is crying, and our parking space is two blocks from the theater. We do not have an umbrella because I forgot to bring one and if I don't remember everything, then nothing gets remembered. We are drenched and so very miserable. I am heartsick about everything, mostly about being stuck in a life that sometimes feels like a trap I can't find my way out of, but then Annie comes on stage and starts singing The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow and I feel my own heart start floating back into its proper place from where it fell inside me.
Sometimes I am amazed at the level of dysfunction I've created for myself without even knowing I was creating it. I own it all, even the crazy, because it's all part of who I am.
I start screaming OMG but then I shift into clean-up mode. I am good in a crisis. I panic initially for a number of seconds, but then you can count on me to find a way out of whatever mess I am in with quiet and cool. You want me on your side because I can make you believe everything will be ok, that I can fix anything. My husband is just the opposite. He can be counted on to help, but he cannot give up on his raging against whatever mess we are in. He screams and he rages and he does not get that nothing he says will change the fact that we simply need to shut up and deal with what's in front of us. He makes whatever mess we're in a thousand times worse just because he cannot keep his mouth shut.
We spend the afternoon wet vacuuming up the excess water and attempting to dry the carpets with big, industrial sized fans. The entire time we are dealing with this mess, my husband is screaming his lungs out about everything. How he is sick of living this way, how hard he works and how much he hates living with the insanity of toilets overflowing, etc., etc., etc. He can turn the smallest thing into the biggest problem and the biggest problem into something much worse without even trying. In my head I am plotting how I will leave him even though I know I will never go anywhere. It helps to pretend there is a place I can go when madness is all around me.
That evening, after cleaning up all the toilet water we've been knee deep in all day, we head off to see the play Annie downtown. It is still raining outside--the freezing kind of rain that makes you think the whole world is crying, and our parking space is two blocks from the theater. We do not have an umbrella because I forgot to bring one and if I don't remember everything, then nothing gets remembered. We are drenched and so very miserable. I am heartsick about everything, mostly about being stuck in a life that sometimes feels like a trap I can't find my way out of, but then Annie comes on stage and starts singing The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow and I feel my own heart start floating back into its proper place from where it fell inside me.
Sometimes I am amazed at the level of dysfunction I've created for myself without even knowing I was creating it. I own it all, even the crazy, because it's all part of who I am.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
the bearer of unconditional things
I know this is really strange, but every once in a while I go to my brother's flicker site and go through his pictures--a virtual stalker, if you will. I have two brothers who don't speak to me, who I have not seen in over 20 years. My one brother doesn't speak to me just because (really!). My other brother who doesn't speak to me, basically cut the whole family off and I was just collateral damage thrown into the mix because he severed ties with them. Even though I did nothing to him except love him, I got cut off, too. I've spent a lifetime trying to process this. I cannot tell you how it feels to be erased like that from someone's life because there are no words. I never talk about it to anyone because I don't know what to say. I know that a lot of my childhood years have been forgotten because of this.
I cannot remember so many things. My sister will ask me if I remember this or that and I have to tell her no. I try to remember, but I can't. I was literally erased from their lives, then I think my mind erased most things connected to them. I do remember my older brother being a know-it-all and I remember him playing the Elvis Costello song "Alison" over and over and over again. I remember this about my little brother: When he first started school, he cried and cried, and could not be consoled, so I would stand in line with him to take him to his class in the morning so that he would feel safe and stop all that crying. I have never been able to stand seeing little kids cry.
Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a trip down memory lane where I get all weepy over lost relationships because I'm at peace with my life at this point. What I wanted to write was that as I was going through my brother's Christmas flicker pictures, I noticed something weird. There were pictures of the inside of his house decorated for the holidays and what I noticed is that both my sister and my brother have almost 100% copied the way my parents furnish and decorate their home. They all have open beams on their ceilings. They have the same type of rug in the family room. Their kitchens are set up in identical ways. Their wooden tables all have a sheet of glass on top and a white doily runner between the wood and the glass. There are built in bookshelves in the family room of all their homes. Their fireplace mantles are adorned in similar fashions. When my parents started to collect a certain kind of expensive pottery, my sister went out and bought a ton of it herself. My mother has an extensive collection of Hummels and I noticed that my sister started collecting them as well. They all have the same type of curtains in the windows, too. Let me be clear, their homes are beautiful. But it's like this weird copycatville where they all seem compelled to be carbon copies of each other. I wonder what they think about when they visit each other. I'm guessing they think what good taste they all have since they all have the exact same taste.
I'm trying to figure out what this means because I think there has to be some reason why they both felt the need to replicate our parents home inside their own homes. I think it might have something to do with needing my parents approval and knowing that they would have it if they copied them. What else could it be? There's no hint of originality in either home that screams, THIS IS ME, I AM DIFFERENT FROM YOU.
I guess I just find it fascinating to know that there isn't anything in my home that resembles their homes. If I never moved away, I wonder if my home would mimic theirs. I wonder if I would reside in copycatville as well due to the pressure of living in the same area, or if I would have the courage to be the me that is different from them that I feel free to be because I am so far away.
I cannot remember so many things. My sister will ask me if I remember this or that and I have to tell her no. I try to remember, but I can't. I was literally erased from their lives, then I think my mind erased most things connected to them. I do remember my older brother being a know-it-all and I remember him playing the Elvis Costello song "Alison" over and over and over again. I remember this about my little brother: When he first started school, he cried and cried, and could not be consoled, so I would stand in line with him to take him to his class in the morning so that he would feel safe and stop all that crying. I have never been able to stand seeing little kids cry.
Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a trip down memory lane where I get all weepy over lost relationships because I'm at peace with my life at this point. What I wanted to write was that as I was going through my brother's Christmas flicker pictures, I noticed something weird. There were pictures of the inside of his house decorated for the holidays and what I noticed is that both my sister and my brother have almost 100% copied the way my parents furnish and decorate their home. They all have open beams on their ceilings. They have the same type of rug in the family room. Their kitchens are set up in identical ways. Their wooden tables all have a sheet of glass on top and a white doily runner between the wood and the glass. There are built in bookshelves in the family room of all their homes. Their fireplace mantles are adorned in similar fashions. When my parents started to collect a certain kind of expensive pottery, my sister went out and bought a ton of it herself. My mother has an extensive collection of Hummels and I noticed that my sister started collecting them as well. They all have the same type of curtains in the windows, too. Let me be clear, their homes are beautiful. But it's like this weird copycatville where they all seem compelled to be carbon copies of each other. I wonder what they think about when they visit each other. I'm guessing they think what good taste they all have since they all have the exact same taste.
I'm trying to figure out what this means because I think there has to be some reason why they both felt the need to replicate our parents home inside their own homes. I think it might have something to do with needing my parents approval and knowing that they would have it if they copied them. What else could it be? There's no hint of originality in either home that screams, THIS IS ME, I AM DIFFERENT FROM YOU.
I guess I just find it fascinating to know that there isn't anything in my home that resembles their homes. If I never moved away, I wonder if my home would mimic theirs. I wonder if I would reside in copycatville as well due to the pressure of living in the same area, or if I would have the courage to be the me that is different from them that I feel free to be because I am so far away.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Blue moon ringing in a New Year, 2010
There's an eclipsed Blue Moon tonight, so I am taking that as a sign that 2010 will be good.
2009 has been mostly wonderful. I am enormously blessed. I look forward to the promise that a new year brings and will do my best to honor my life here on earth. I will continue to seek the truth in all things and I will work to acquire the knowledge I need to help myself and my family navigate through this world. I will look for the divine everywhere and in everyone. I will strive to remain in the light.
Happy New Year!
May health, happiness and prosperity be yours.
2009 has been mostly wonderful. I am enormously blessed. I look forward to the promise that a new year brings and will do my best to honor my life here on earth. I will continue to seek the truth in all things and I will work to acquire the knowledge I need to help myself and my family navigate through this world. I will look for the divine everywhere and in everyone. I will strive to remain in the light.
Happy New Year!
May health, happiness and prosperity be yours.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The center of everything
I am trying to burn down a pumpkin spiced candle that's almost at its end. I should probably just put it away already but I love the scent. It's raining outside--has been raining and cold most of the day. I ended up doing a little Christmas shopping today and bought some poinsettias for the house. I finally threw my pumpkins in the trash although what I wanted to do was toss them out back into the woods at the edge of our lawn so that they would rot and maybe the seeds would take root and sprout pumpkins next year but my husband said it would attract ants and apparently we don't want to attract a bunch of ants outside where they live anyway so in the trash they went.
I can't wait to run tomorrow since I wasn't able to run today. Sometimes I hate running so much I want to cry because of all the aches I end up having, but then I'll miss a day because of rain and all I can think about is running. I'm never sure whether I am running away from something or towards something--maybe a little of both. I do know that when I am out there, I forget about everything and that's a good thing when your head is always filled to bursting with thoughts that won't let you rest.
I received the most thoughtful, wonderful gift for my birthday--tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera and I can hardly wait until Saturday when we go. I had been quietly promoting this as a gift for a while amongst my family but no one seemed to get a clue so I gave up throwing out hints about a year ago. Then one day I was listening to the soundtrack and thinking to myself that I'd really like to go see it in person and the next day tickets arrived in the mail!! It was like magic. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself and I wasn't angry that I hadn't had the opportunity to go yet, I was simply thinking how great it would be to go. I didn't say a thing--I just had the thought in my head that I wanted to go and just like that, I am going!
In my dreams--the ones I manage to remember--I always have magical powers. I like thinking I'm learning to find the magic of my dreams when I'm awake.
I can't wait to run tomorrow since I wasn't able to run today. Sometimes I hate running so much I want to cry because of all the aches I end up having, but then I'll miss a day because of rain and all I can think about is running. I'm never sure whether I am running away from something or towards something--maybe a little of both. I do know that when I am out there, I forget about everything and that's a good thing when your head is always filled to bursting with thoughts that won't let you rest.
I received the most thoughtful, wonderful gift for my birthday--tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera and I can hardly wait until Saturday when we go. I had been quietly promoting this as a gift for a while amongst my family but no one seemed to get a clue so I gave up throwing out hints about a year ago. Then one day I was listening to the soundtrack and thinking to myself that I'd really like to go see it in person and the next day tickets arrived in the mail!! It was like magic. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself and I wasn't angry that I hadn't had the opportunity to go yet, I was simply thinking how great it would be to go. I didn't say a thing--I just had the thought in my head that I wanted to go and just like that, I am going!
In my dreams--the ones I manage to remember--I always have magical powers. I like thinking I'm learning to find the magic of my dreams when I'm awake.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Drop by drop
"Writing a journal means that facing your ocean, you are afraid to swim across it, so you attempt to drink it drop by drop."~George Sand
I've been watching the second season of HBO's In Treatment on demand and decided that there is an art to listening I had never noticed before and I wonder if maybe the only way to have access to that type of listening is to pay for it. I'm not being snarky here. It's just that no one I know listens the way the therapist on the show listens to his patients--with such care, such attention to detail, and such compassion. It is truly an art and something I would like to learn to do better, and have done better in regards to me.
~~~~~~~~~~
For the past couple of weeks I have been on an eating binge. I eat everything in sight--leftover Baby Ruth bars from Halloween, chips, pretzels--you name it and I eat it. I go to bed at night with a container of extra strength tropical fruit TUMS by my nightstand and chew those up like skittles to combat the indigestion brought on by these feeding frenzies, then I wake up the next day and do it all over again. I am never filled up. I am never filled up.
~~~~~~~~~~
There is an angel tree filled with requests by children at the grocery store where I shop. The other day I stood there and read the little wishes and I almost started crying because I wanted to scoop them all up and be the person who filled all those wishes but I know my husband would flip out if I did such a thing. Instead I think I will take an angel every time I go and fill that wish from now until Christmas. I have been blessed with much and it makes me happy to share--especially with children who remind me to be ever hopeful of just about everything.
``````````````````````
Weekends get a little stressful around here. I want a break from the same old, same old and want to be free to do what I want to do and yet my adult children seem only to think of my life in terms of what I can do for them. It's all so predictable and annoying and I do not know of a way to complain about it that gets my point across for more than 5 minutes. I do not want to be that parent who wishes her children would just hurry up and leave but I find myself becoming her more and more--especially on the weekends. It's a fight to keep my newly found serenity and it worries me that I feel serenity most strongly when I am by myself.
``````````````````
I have hated running the past two weeks. It's a struggle to get myself out the door, not because I hate being outside but because I dread running the same paths and hearing the same music. I started to think about how many miles I have run in the last 21 weeks of religious exercise and it feels like a million. I am running up and down streets and around cul de sacs--like a lab rat stuck in a maze. So I'm thinking about changing up my scenery by going somewhere new. And I bought some new sneakers to have something new and shiny to motivate me not to give up. You should hear the pep talks I give myself each morning. This is what I say: "You can't give up. You have to keep trying. Remember how good you feel afterwards. Don't be that person who can't stick to things for more than just a short while." This is a dangerous time for me. I always know when I am about to take a little break from exercising that will last 6 months or more and I am determined not to let that happen. I'll keep you posted.
~~~~~~~~
I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving. I've got pies to bake and a turkey to cook correctly so that I don't give my family food poisoning. This is always a worry of my husband's even though no one has ever gotten food poisoning from food I have prepared in over 20 years. Still, each year I get cautioned that I must prepare the turkey correctly. This year he has also suggested that perhaps instead of potentially poisoning everyone with turkey, maybe I should just make meatloaf and mashed potatoes instead. It promises to be another interesting holiday in my corner of the world.
I've been watching the second season of HBO's In Treatment on demand and decided that there is an art to listening I had never noticed before and I wonder if maybe the only way to have access to that type of listening is to pay for it. I'm not being snarky here. It's just that no one I know listens the way the therapist on the show listens to his patients--with such care, such attention to detail, and such compassion. It is truly an art and something I would like to learn to do better, and have done better in regards to me.
~~~~~~~~~~
For the past couple of weeks I have been on an eating binge. I eat everything in sight--leftover Baby Ruth bars from Halloween, chips, pretzels--you name it and I eat it. I go to bed at night with a container of extra strength tropical fruit TUMS by my nightstand and chew those up like skittles to combat the indigestion brought on by these feeding frenzies, then I wake up the next day and do it all over again. I am never filled up. I am never filled up.
~~~~~~~~~~
There is an angel tree filled with requests by children at the grocery store where I shop. The other day I stood there and read the little wishes and I almost started crying because I wanted to scoop them all up and be the person who filled all those wishes but I know my husband would flip out if I did such a thing. Instead I think I will take an angel every time I go and fill that wish from now until Christmas. I have been blessed with much and it makes me happy to share--especially with children who remind me to be ever hopeful of just about everything.
``````````````````````
Weekends get a little stressful around here. I want a break from the same old, same old and want to be free to do what I want to do and yet my adult children seem only to think of my life in terms of what I can do for them. It's all so predictable and annoying and I do not know of a way to complain about it that gets my point across for more than 5 minutes. I do not want to be that parent who wishes her children would just hurry up and leave but I find myself becoming her more and more--especially on the weekends. It's a fight to keep my newly found serenity and it worries me that I feel serenity most strongly when I am by myself.
``````````````````
I have hated running the past two weeks. It's a struggle to get myself out the door, not because I hate being outside but because I dread running the same paths and hearing the same music. I started to think about how many miles I have run in the last 21 weeks of religious exercise and it feels like a million. I am running up and down streets and around cul de sacs--like a lab rat stuck in a maze. So I'm thinking about changing up my scenery by going somewhere new. And I bought some new sneakers to have something new and shiny to motivate me not to give up. You should hear the pep talks I give myself each morning. This is what I say: "You can't give up. You have to keep trying. Remember how good you feel afterwards. Don't be that person who can't stick to things for more than just a short while." This is a dangerous time for me. I always know when I am about to take a little break from exercising that will last 6 months or more and I am determined not to let that happen. I'll keep you posted.
~~~~~~~~
I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving. I've got pies to bake and a turkey to cook correctly so that I don't give my family food poisoning. This is always a worry of my husband's even though no one has ever gotten food poisoning from food I have prepared in over 20 years. Still, each year I get cautioned that I must prepare the turkey correctly. This year he has also suggested that perhaps instead of potentially poisoning everyone with turkey, maybe I should just make meatloaf and mashed potatoes instead. It promises to be another interesting holiday in my corner of the world.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
another me
I have the window opened a little more than a crack, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke is snaking its way into the room. I imagine our neighbor next door standing on her deck out back to keep the smell of smoke out of her house and away from her little boy. Growing up, my father smoked like a mad man. There are pictures of him, at thirteen years old, sneaking a smoke in the back of a building somewhere. When we were little, and would go through old photographs, my siblings and I couldn't get over how bad he must have been to be smoking at thirteen. We couldn't even imagine.
Our house smelled like smoke--the curtains, the furniture, our clothes--everything. When my father turned forty, his mother was diagnosed with lung cancer--from being a smoker her entire life. Her ugly, painful death from this disease made my father give up smoking. He simply stopped one day and never smoked again.
Although I've never been a smoker, there are times I get the urge to buy myself a pack of cigarettes. It's the strangest thing. I imagine myself in some secluded spot, sneaking a cigarette or two then coming back to a life where that's not something I would ever do in a million years.
Our house smelled like smoke--the curtains, the furniture, our clothes--everything. When my father turned forty, his mother was diagnosed with lung cancer--from being a smoker her entire life. Her ugly, painful death from this disease made my father give up smoking. He simply stopped one day and never smoked again.
Although I've never been a smoker, there are times I get the urge to buy myself a pack of cigarettes. It's the strangest thing. I imagine myself in some secluded spot, sneaking a cigarette or two then coming back to a life where that's not something I would ever do in a million years.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Not stopping
"One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eye."~The Little Prince
I waited all morning and half the afternoon for the rain to die down to a drizzle so that I could go outside and do my run. This blog is becoming monotonous--I run, and I talk about running but I can't help it--it's what makes me happy and feel at peace. This was the second day this week that rain was trying to take away my fun. I was impatient for it to be gone. But then I went out there with a hat on and a SWEATSHIRT! and my music in my ears and I ran. I loved everything about the drizzle hitting my face, keeping me cool. I loved the clouds in the sky and the trees turning beautiful fall colors and the stream of water rushing down the street beside me. I feel closest to God--with the divine greatness of the universe--when I am outdoors. I never, ever in my whole life took the time to look around and really appreciate all the natural beauty around me, so it's like I am making up for lost time.
I spent the last couple of weeks getting my house in shape for a visit from my in-laws and then at the very last minute they decided that the trip was just too long to make. At first I was like---huh? But then I remembered how miserable I feel when I am in a car for endless hours--how my body aches and how bored to death I feel. And I thought about how they're so much older and shouldn't have to do anything they don't want to do and then I was ok with it. It's not like getting angry would have changed things anyway so I didn't bother wasting the energy. My house is looking spotless and organized, so in a way, I am thankful for the little push to get things in order.
Believe it or not, I think about writing here a lot, although it's clear that I do not actually come here and write very often. There really isn't much going on in my life that's interesting from the outside looking in. I've been going through some internal changes that are difficult to articulate. All I know is that I have searched tirelessly for truth and peace and God---and after all the searching, I found them all inside me. I was looking outside when I should have been looking within. I'm rejecting fear and choosing love. As much as possible, I am trying to send out into the world good energies so that good energies come back to me and it's working. I am being pleasantly surprised by the power I have that I did not know I had. I am happier than I have ever been in my entire life. My life is truly what I make it.
I waited all morning and half the afternoon for the rain to die down to a drizzle so that I could go outside and do my run. This blog is becoming monotonous--I run, and I talk about running but I can't help it--it's what makes me happy and feel at peace. This was the second day this week that rain was trying to take away my fun. I was impatient for it to be gone. But then I went out there with a hat on and a SWEATSHIRT! and my music in my ears and I ran. I loved everything about the drizzle hitting my face, keeping me cool. I loved the clouds in the sky and the trees turning beautiful fall colors and the stream of water rushing down the street beside me. I feel closest to God--with the divine greatness of the universe--when I am outdoors. I never, ever in my whole life took the time to look around and really appreciate all the natural beauty around me, so it's like I am making up for lost time.
I spent the last couple of weeks getting my house in shape for a visit from my in-laws and then at the very last minute they decided that the trip was just too long to make. At first I was like---huh? But then I remembered how miserable I feel when I am in a car for endless hours--how my body aches and how bored to death I feel. And I thought about how they're so much older and shouldn't have to do anything they don't want to do and then I was ok with it. It's not like getting angry would have changed things anyway so I didn't bother wasting the energy. My house is looking spotless and organized, so in a way, I am thankful for the little push to get things in order.
Believe it or not, I think about writing here a lot, although it's clear that I do not actually come here and write very often. There really isn't much going on in my life that's interesting from the outside looking in. I've been going through some internal changes that are difficult to articulate. All I know is that I have searched tirelessly for truth and peace and God---and after all the searching, I found them all inside me. I was looking outside when I should have been looking within. I'm rejecting fear and choosing love. As much as possible, I am trying to send out into the world good energies so that good energies come back to me and it's working. I am being pleasantly surprised by the power I have that I did not know I had. I am happier than I have ever been in my entire life. My life is truly what I make it.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Have a nice day
I got up this morning as usual and prepared to go for a run. It was sprinkling just a little bit so I decided that I'd do a little housework and wait to see if it cleared. Around 9:00 AM, someone rings my front doorbell and starts knocking on the door. I peeked out the blinds and saw a 20 something male standing there kind of shuffling around. I know I shouldn't have opened the door, but I did and he immediately went into some spiel about his mother being in a bad accident and how he needed gas and/or money for gas so that he could go to the hospital to see his dying mother. He was crying and very dramatic about the whole thing. He told me he owned a pressure washing business and that if I gave him gas or gas money to go see his dying mother, that he'd be happy to come back and pressure wash my house and driveway. I told him that wasn't necessary because at this point, all I really wanted to do was get rid of him because he made me nervous with all his shuffling around. He also had really bad teeth--they were black and this gloomy gray color and they kind of freaked me out. I immediately chastised myself for being judgmental and told him I'd check in my garage to see if we had any gas. I closed the door and locked it as quick as lightening.
In the back of my head, I knew that I wanted to tell him straight up to just go away, but I've been trying to find my sense of compassion towards other human beings again. And I've been working hard at removing fear from my life because when I stopped to think about all the things I fear, I found the list was pretty endless. I hated knowing that a lot of my life has been defined by fears that simply stole away time I could have used being happy and productive. There is so much to be afraid of and I think our society plays on those fears so that they can push through agendas that do not benefit any of us. Lately, my mind has been filled with fears about our disastrous financial situation, and the swine flu fear mongering seems to escalate by the minute. It's just endless and I decided I did not want to participate in all that fear anymore so when I feel the panic rising, I retrain my brain to calm myself down about whatever it is that is making me feel scared. I've been very successful at stamping out fears over which I ultimately have no control, and as a reward, I feel much happier.
So when I closed the door on the jittery man out front--even though a part of me sensed something wasn't right--I decided I'd give him money because I tried to think how I would feel if I was alone in the world and I needed to get somewhere and I didn't have any money to buy gas. I thought it wouldn't hurt me to give him money and whatever gas I had in the gas can in the garage because I have enough of both and could get more any time I wanted more. When you're blessed with riches, it costs nothing to give some away--I truly believe that. I tried to see past his exterior into his spirit where I know goodness lies in all of us, and decided I could trust this person I did not know for more than 3 minutes.
As I was digging out my wallet, my son, who was home at the time, came out of his room and asked me what I was doing so I told him the story. He informed me that a cop was out front and, of course, started in on the "don't ever open the door for anyone" lecture as if I was the child and he was the parent. The cop rings our doorbell and asked us if we knew this man and we told him no and I recounted the tale he had told me just moments before. He said he'd been called by some other neighbors and that he was going to look into the background of this fellow.
Long story short, Mr. jittery-black-teeth-money/gas-solicitor was lying. Apparently he's some sort of druggie/dealer. Pretty soon police cruiser number two arrives, then police cruiser number three. It was quite a show. They handcuffed him and hauled him off to jail!
All I could think about today was how these rotten, lying scumbag people ruin things for everyone because they make you harden your heart, they make you suspicious, they make you not want to trust anyone, or do nice things. I was thinking what must go through the mind of someone like that to come onto private property and blatantly lie to scam money to buy drugs. In a million years, I cannot imagine myself in a scenario like that and for that, I am grateful. Still, I feel ridiculous that I chose to believe him, that my kindness is a weakness that other people see as an opportunity to take advantage of.
There is never a dull moment in this neighborhood. I could toss out all the TV's we own and just sit by the windows and be entertained both day and night. I couldn't make up half this stuff even if I tried. I look around me and there's so much dysfunction, so much moral depravity I can hardly stand it. It's hard feeling like you're the only normal person in a world full of whackos.
In the back of my head, I knew that I wanted to tell him straight up to just go away, but I've been trying to find my sense of compassion towards other human beings again. And I've been working hard at removing fear from my life because when I stopped to think about all the things I fear, I found the list was pretty endless. I hated knowing that a lot of my life has been defined by fears that simply stole away time I could have used being happy and productive. There is so much to be afraid of and I think our society plays on those fears so that they can push through agendas that do not benefit any of us. Lately, my mind has been filled with fears about our disastrous financial situation, and the swine flu fear mongering seems to escalate by the minute. It's just endless and I decided I did not want to participate in all that fear anymore so when I feel the panic rising, I retrain my brain to calm myself down about whatever it is that is making me feel scared. I've been very successful at stamping out fears over which I ultimately have no control, and as a reward, I feel much happier.
So when I closed the door on the jittery man out front--even though a part of me sensed something wasn't right--I decided I'd give him money because I tried to think how I would feel if I was alone in the world and I needed to get somewhere and I didn't have any money to buy gas. I thought it wouldn't hurt me to give him money and whatever gas I had in the gas can in the garage because I have enough of both and could get more any time I wanted more. When you're blessed with riches, it costs nothing to give some away--I truly believe that. I tried to see past his exterior into his spirit where I know goodness lies in all of us, and decided I could trust this person I did not know for more than 3 minutes.
As I was digging out my wallet, my son, who was home at the time, came out of his room and asked me what I was doing so I told him the story. He informed me that a cop was out front and, of course, started in on the "don't ever open the door for anyone" lecture as if I was the child and he was the parent. The cop rings our doorbell and asked us if we knew this man and we told him no and I recounted the tale he had told me just moments before. He said he'd been called by some other neighbors and that he was going to look into the background of this fellow.
Long story short, Mr. jittery-black-teeth-money/gas-solicitor was lying. Apparently he's some sort of druggie/dealer. Pretty soon police cruiser number two arrives, then police cruiser number three. It was quite a show. They handcuffed him and hauled him off to jail!
All I could think about today was how these rotten, lying scumbag people ruin things for everyone because they make you harden your heart, they make you suspicious, they make you not want to trust anyone, or do nice things. I was thinking what must go through the mind of someone like that to come onto private property and blatantly lie to scam money to buy drugs. In a million years, I cannot imagine myself in a scenario like that and for that, I am grateful. Still, I feel ridiculous that I chose to believe him, that my kindness is a weakness that other people see as an opportunity to take advantage of.
There is never a dull moment in this neighborhood. I could toss out all the TV's we own and just sit by the windows and be entertained both day and night. I couldn't make up half this stuff even if I tried. I look around me and there's so much dysfunction, so much moral depravity I can hardly stand it. It's hard feeling like you're the only normal person in a world full of whackos.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The earth turns, the sun burns
I decided not to be hateful to the man who walks his dogs and won't say hello to me when I say hi to him. All summer long, I've been ignoring him whenever I see him. It takes a lot of effort to ignore someone who is right across the street hanging onto a dog that is barking wildly and struggling mightily to cross the street and sniff me out. I need to believe that there is goodness in everyone. Whether this is a foolish belief or not remains to be seen. I saw him today and said hello. He said hello back. Progress.
This morning was a gift. The air was just a little bit cool here and that's the first time in forever that I have not been met with a wall of heat the moment I step outdoors. A shadow of the moon was still up in the sky, so was the sun, and so were the clouds. I wished I could be up there, too, floating on a cloud or something, sipping a drink with lots of ice. Sometimes the earth feels too crowded with people and stuff. In my dreams, I can fly. If only.
Everything is going well here. My youngest seems to be adjusting to college life and we are adjusting to life without her here all the time. Every day it's a new drama at the school--tonight it was a fire in her dorm. She proudly stated that she remembered to take her cell phone and her favorite blanket when the alarm went off in the building. No mention of the $2,000 laptop, though. Priorities, I guess.
Anyway, I want to say that I've been busy being happy, because that's what's true.
This morning was a gift. The air was just a little bit cool here and that's the first time in forever that I have not been met with a wall of heat the moment I step outdoors. A shadow of the moon was still up in the sky, so was the sun, and so were the clouds. I wished I could be up there, too, floating on a cloud or something, sipping a drink with lots of ice. Sometimes the earth feels too crowded with people and stuff. In my dreams, I can fly. If only.
Everything is going well here. My youngest seems to be adjusting to college life and we are adjusting to life without her here all the time. Every day it's a new drama at the school--tonight it was a fire in her dorm. She proudly stated that she remembered to take her cell phone and her favorite blanket when the alarm went off in the building. No mention of the $2,000 laptop, though. Priorities, I guess.
Anyway, I want to say that I've been busy being happy, because that's what's true.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
who i am, who i'm not, who i want to be
My summer has been a whirlwind of activity and now we're getting ready for our youngest to go off to college. It's such an exciting time for her and I'm so happy to be a part of it. I'm not sad in the least--I'm thrilled for her. It is not enough to say I wish the world for her. My dreams for her are limitless. I forget about being negative when I'm around my children. They have always been my hope for bigger and better things. In my deepest heart, I know that what I get from them is more than what I have given to them. The list is endless. Not surprisingly, the list begins and ends with love.
One of the pleasures of running every day is that I turn a glorious shade of bronze just by trekking through my neighborhood. I think exposure to the sun has been demonized by medical professionals to the point of ridiculousness and I'm sure that's mostly because sunshine cannot be bottled and sold at exorbitant prices to the masses. The sun has always felt so healing to me and maybe that's because my body instinctively knows how good it is for me. My blistered, aching feet are wounds I curse and cherish simultaneously. They remind me I am alive. They keep me in the moment.
I am not sure why I haven't been writing as much lately. Partly it has to do with me trying to come to terms with this life of mine. I've been on a quest for truth in everything and have found that you cannot find the truth if truth is not inside you. This has proved difficult because I'm a keeper of secrets. I can bury secrets deep inside the vault of my soul and forget about them. Occasionally, I will take them out in the dead of the night but never long enough to sort anything out. I ask myself what it is that I am afraid of and I answer that I am afraid I will fall apart if I dare to stare down the secrets/truths about myself that feel impossible to come to terms with. I think I do not have the time to fall apart when I've got real life to deal with and so I keep putting this showdown off till another day. I think the sun will continue to shine and time will continue to march on, but there are days I'm not convinced of it. There is truth inside me that I need to set free, that I need to face without fear so that I can find the truth in everything.
One of the pleasures of running every day is that I turn a glorious shade of bronze just by trekking through my neighborhood. I think exposure to the sun has been demonized by medical professionals to the point of ridiculousness and I'm sure that's mostly because sunshine cannot be bottled and sold at exorbitant prices to the masses. The sun has always felt so healing to me and maybe that's because my body instinctively knows how good it is for me. My blistered, aching feet are wounds I curse and cherish simultaneously. They remind me I am alive. They keep me in the moment.
I am not sure why I haven't been writing as much lately. Partly it has to do with me trying to come to terms with this life of mine. I've been on a quest for truth in everything and have found that you cannot find the truth if truth is not inside you. This has proved difficult because I'm a keeper of secrets. I can bury secrets deep inside the vault of my soul and forget about them. Occasionally, I will take them out in the dead of the night but never long enough to sort anything out. I ask myself what it is that I am afraid of and I answer that I am afraid I will fall apart if I dare to stare down the secrets/truths about myself that feel impossible to come to terms with. I think I do not have the time to fall apart when I've got real life to deal with and so I keep putting this showdown off till another day. I think the sun will continue to shine and time will continue to march on, but there are days I'm not convinced of it. There is truth inside me that I need to set free, that I need to face without fear so that I can find the truth in everything.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Rule breakers
(another shitty person story)
I had picked up about 25-30 items at the grocery store last night. I walked up to one line and saw that there were two people ahead of me with their carts filled to the brim so I wandered down to another lane and started to unload my stuff. I was halfway through unloading (I was bending over my cart picking a couple of yogurts up) when this woman comes up behind me and shouts, "WELL, I GUESS THIS ISN'T A 15 ITEMS OR LESS LINE ANYMORE!!!" then she stomped off in a huff. It was at that moment that I happened to glance up to see that I had wandered (unknowingly) into a 15 items or less line. I seriously did not even notice the sign hanging from the ceiling (also, not that this is an excuse, but these stores all have different item limits--some say 10 some say 15 some say 25--I clearly had more than 15 items, but they were yogurts and gatorades and some canned goods--and checking out would have been quick). Apparently this is a death row offense as far as some people are concerned. The woman behind the indignant bitch said jokingly, "ooooooooo, you're such a rule breaker!" I told her that WOW, I would have moved if she had just acted like a normal person, but she assumed that I was conspiring to make all the 15-items-and-less-people wait behind me on purpose when I didn't even realize I was in one of those stupid lines. OMG, people are really trying my patience lately!
I was incensed for most of my trip home, but then a good song came on the radio and I let it go. I mean, if the biggest problem that woman has in life is ME making a mistake and unloading too many items at the checkout, then she has nothing to complain about, and if MY biggest problem is a nasty old bitch griping about a silly mistake that I would have been glad to rectify if she had simply been normal, then my life is quite excellent indeed.
I had picked up about 25-30 items at the grocery store last night. I walked up to one line and saw that there were two people ahead of me with their carts filled to the brim so I wandered down to another lane and started to unload my stuff. I was halfway through unloading (I was bending over my cart picking a couple of yogurts up) when this woman comes up behind me and shouts, "WELL, I GUESS THIS ISN'T A 15 ITEMS OR LESS LINE ANYMORE!!!" then she stomped off in a huff. It was at that moment that I happened to glance up to see that I had wandered (unknowingly) into a 15 items or less line. I seriously did not even notice the sign hanging from the ceiling (also, not that this is an excuse, but these stores all have different item limits--some say 10 some say 15 some say 25--I clearly had more than 15 items, but they were yogurts and gatorades and some canned goods--and checking out would have been quick). Apparently this is a death row offense as far as some people are concerned. The woman behind the indignant bitch said jokingly, "ooooooooo, you're such a rule breaker!" I told her that WOW, I would have moved if she had just acted like a normal person, but she assumed that I was conspiring to make all the 15-items-and-less-people wait behind me on purpose when I didn't even realize I was in one of those stupid lines. OMG, people are really trying my patience lately!
I was incensed for most of my trip home, but then a good song came on the radio and I let it go. I mean, if the biggest problem that woman has in life is ME making a mistake and unloading too many items at the checkout, then she has nothing to complain about, and if MY biggest problem is a nasty old bitch griping about a silly mistake that I would have been glad to rectify if she had simply been normal, then my life is quite excellent indeed.
Monday, July 20, 2009
He said, ask anything
I am trying to limit my time online. I was becoming increasingly depressed about the state of, well, everything. The mainstream media insults our intelligence by only reporting news which has been approved by "higher ups" in the broadcasting industry. This means we get watered down information or bloated information depending on what the real agenda is behind the scenes. So I look to the internet to tell me the truth, and the truth is mostly always ugly. I'll be in a good mood and forget that our government is marching us towards socialism/communism and then I'll read something that reminds me and I start sinking into a pit of despair again.
I have been making sure that I stay committed to my running again. I feel less pessimistic about the world for at least the couple of hours it takes me to work out, cool down, shower and get on with my day. I feel peace in those two hours, and there are even moments where I can convince myself that we are not doomed, that something or someone will intervene on our behalf and save us from our traitorous government. I'll be quite honest--I've handed it over to God because I do not know what else to do. On my good days, I am convinced that evil will not prevail because no matter how powerful evil forces can be, God, in His infinite goodness, is the ultimate superpower. I find myself praying all the time--for guidance, for strength, for patience, for hope. I have spent inordinate amounts of time searching for answers, for truth. I read everything and I am open to all sorts of different opinions on things because I think it is a mistake to think that there is only one way that is the right way. I've read articles by people who say there is no God and I can understand where they are coming from even though I do not feel that same way. For me, it's essential to believe in God, to know that He is somewhere watching over all of us. I try not to question if my faith is a result of not being able to bear the thought that God doesn't exist, because I pretty much know I couldn't bear the thought of that. So it's settled for me. There is a God of goodness and light and I pray to Him always to watch over us and keep us safe. I pray for the destruction of the evil people who are ruining everything. I don't even care if this is an awful thing to do because it feels right to me. I'm sick and tired of being kind to people who wish to do me and my family harm--so I wish on them what they are doing to us--times a million.
My washing machine broke today, so I had to run out and buy a new one but it won't be delivered until Wednesday. By then, the pile of unwashed clothes ought to be up to the ceiling in the laundry room. I usually can't skip even a day or I end up being sorry that I thought I could get by without doing at least one load. My life is one thrill after another, to be sure.
I am struggling to find a balance between acknowledging the alarming reality of our changing world and living my best life, and it is proving to be quite the challenge. Sometimes I wish I didn't know so much, that I didn't search and search and search to find out truths that take some of the color out of the world for me. Still, I think I'd rather know than not know because at least I will not be surprised, I will not be caught off guard. I've always hated surprises unless the surprises are diamonds or sapphires or rubies.
I have been making sure that I stay committed to my running again. I feel less pessimistic about the world for at least the couple of hours it takes me to work out, cool down, shower and get on with my day. I feel peace in those two hours, and there are even moments where I can convince myself that we are not doomed, that something or someone will intervene on our behalf and save us from our traitorous government. I'll be quite honest--I've handed it over to God because I do not know what else to do. On my good days, I am convinced that evil will not prevail because no matter how powerful evil forces can be, God, in His infinite goodness, is the ultimate superpower. I find myself praying all the time--for guidance, for strength, for patience, for hope. I have spent inordinate amounts of time searching for answers, for truth. I read everything and I am open to all sorts of different opinions on things because I think it is a mistake to think that there is only one way that is the right way. I've read articles by people who say there is no God and I can understand where they are coming from even though I do not feel that same way. For me, it's essential to believe in God, to know that He is somewhere watching over all of us. I try not to question if my faith is a result of not being able to bear the thought that God doesn't exist, because I pretty much know I couldn't bear the thought of that. So it's settled for me. There is a God of goodness and light and I pray to Him always to watch over us and keep us safe. I pray for the destruction of the evil people who are ruining everything. I don't even care if this is an awful thing to do because it feels right to me. I'm sick and tired of being kind to people who wish to do me and my family harm--so I wish on them what they are doing to us--times a million.
My washing machine broke today, so I had to run out and buy a new one but it won't be delivered until Wednesday. By then, the pile of unwashed clothes ought to be up to the ceiling in the laundry room. I usually can't skip even a day or I end up being sorry that I thought I could get by without doing at least one load. My life is one thrill after another, to be sure.
I am struggling to find a balance between acknowledging the alarming reality of our changing world and living my best life, and it is proving to be quite the challenge. Sometimes I wish I didn't know so much, that I didn't search and search and search to find out truths that take some of the color out of the world for me. Still, I think I'd rather know than not know because at least I will not be surprised, I will not be caught off guard. I've always hated surprises unless the surprises are diamonds or sapphires or rubies.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Let freedom ring.
I read somewhere today that freedom is a state of mind and I like that thought so I'm going to try to remember it the next time I start worrying. The worries. The worries are heavy. I want to knock them off my shoulders and dump them in a bottomless pit so that I never have to deal with them again. The worries keep me up at night, they consume my thoughts throughout the day. I breath them in and breath them out. I cannot make them go away.
Freedom is a state of mind. Ok. For the moment, it's working.
My hair smells like smoke from the grill. I had a massive grease fire going on this afternoon when I was cooking up the food. I'm the griller in my family which I know is unusual, but with my husband gone a lot of the time, I needed to know how to fire up a grill or go without and so now I am an expert. We had hamburgers, hotdogs, sweet italian sausage, baked beans, salad, my specialty deviled eggs, and corn on the cob. It was all so delicious. I don't think there are fireworks in town this year due to the economy but no big deal. We can buy fireworks in the grocery stores here so if we want them we can go buy them. When I was growing up, my father would put on a fireworks show each year for the neighborhood. We'd crawl up on the roof of our house and watch them and it's great how I can think back to that time and I'm back there. I love the snapshot memories that take me back.
I bought a new pair of sneakers last night and I am thinking about taking up my walking/running routine again. I took a "day" off that lasted 8 months. I always do this. I run like an engine for a year then get tired and decide to rest a day and then I don't go back. There is no sense in this, I know and I fight to understand why I'm wired this way. I lose motivation somehow. It leaves me when I don't realize it's going and then I can't get it back no matter how hard I try. I know the motivation must come from within, though, so there's that.
I'm trying to keep my mind off the economic difficulties going on in our world. I'd feel better if I felt that we had people working toward fixing what is broken, however I think we have people intentionally working to destroy rather than build up. I worry for the people without jobs. I feel strangely calm about my husband's job even though he is in an industry that the Obama administration is working tirelessly to decimate. I'm certain we will be ok but I still care deeply about the direction our world is headed and I wish I could get everyone to think good thoughts and pray to God to help us. We have a bunch of people in our government who are not our friends, who are following a path that is wrong, who are betraying us. I've gotten beyond the democrat/republican thing because I think both are rotten and corrupt.
Anyway, my hope is that freedom, or at least the form of freedom we have now, does not get smaller. That is my wish this 4th of July. For everyone.
Freedom is a state of mind. Ok. For the moment, it's working.
My hair smells like smoke from the grill. I had a massive grease fire going on this afternoon when I was cooking up the food. I'm the griller in my family which I know is unusual, but with my husband gone a lot of the time, I needed to know how to fire up a grill or go without and so now I am an expert. We had hamburgers, hotdogs, sweet italian sausage, baked beans, salad, my specialty deviled eggs, and corn on the cob. It was all so delicious. I don't think there are fireworks in town this year due to the economy but no big deal. We can buy fireworks in the grocery stores here so if we want them we can go buy them. When I was growing up, my father would put on a fireworks show each year for the neighborhood. We'd crawl up on the roof of our house and watch them and it's great how I can think back to that time and I'm back there. I love the snapshot memories that take me back.
I bought a new pair of sneakers last night and I am thinking about taking up my walking/running routine again. I took a "day" off that lasted 8 months. I always do this. I run like an engine for a year then get tired and decide to rest a day and then I don't go back. There is no sense in this, I know and I fight to understand why I'm wired this way. I lose motivation somehow. It leaves me when I don't realize it's going and then I can't get it back no matter how hard I try. I know the motivation must come from within, though, so there's that.
I'm trying to keep my mind off the economic difficulties going on in our world. I'd feel better if I felt that we had people working toward fixing what is broken, however I think we have people intentionally working to destroy rather than build up. I worry for the people without jobs. I feel strangely calm about my husband's job even though he is in an industry that the Obama administration is working tirelessly to decimate. I'm certain we will be ok but I still care deeply about the direction our world is headed and I wish I could get everyone to think good thoughts and pray to God to help us. We have a bunch of people in our government who are not our friends, who are following a path that is wrong, who are betraying us. I've gotten beyond the democrat/republican thing because I think both are rotten and corrupt.
Anyway, my hope is that freedom, or at least the form of freedom we have now, does not get smaller. That is my wish this 4th of July. For everyone.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Close your eyes and sleep to dream
I've been reading a lot of political blogs lately and what I've found is that they tend to depress me and make me lose hope in everything and I think hope is important to have. It makes getting up in the morning worthwhile if you believe that there are positives to counter all the negatives, that there is light somewhere within the darkness. So I decided to stop obsessing over wanting to read everything and know everything because what can one person do with all that knowledge anyway? I want to know what is going on, but I need to continue to have hope that things will be ok. I'm not sure if I'm just fooling myself or what. I've become somewhat jaded about everything and I am not exaggerating when I write this. I'm like the dark cloud over Eyeore's head threatening to rain at any moment and spoil everyone's day. Tell me something wonderful and I'll be able to root out the evil that's lurking beneath the all the wonderfulness. I've turned into quite the killjoy for sure.
I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and we were both lamenting about how our lives did not turn out the way we had dreamed they would--how things happened that we had no control over and how we had to adapt to a different life plan. There isn't a place to go where we can just cry about the losses that probably aren't significant to most of the outside world but still feel huge to us. There's this fear of expressing dissatisfaction when you know that mostly your life is blessed, because the rule is that you count your blessings and you do not ask for more than enough when you have enough. And so we discuss this with each other and tell each other that we're lucky because we are. And the speaking of the words that feel like a betrayal helps for a while. We hang up our phones and get on with the lives we have and we feel less alone knowing there is at least one person walking the earth who feels the same things.
I'm on one of my cleaning binges again. It's always all or nothing with me and I tend to disrespect housecleaning now that I have been doing it more than half of my life. There's nothing rewarding about it but I get to the point where I feel like I need control of something, anything, and so I clean. Even when I know that tomorrow at this time everything I've done will be undone there are at least a few moments when things are in order and that gives me a little peace. My gravestone will probably read something like, She lived, She cleaned, She saw her cleaning come undone, She died.
I'm almost done the Bible and know that I will have to go back and read it all again because there is just so much to take in after just one reading. My mind is filled with all the stories and all the questions I have that I am afraid I will never get the answers to--at least not in this life. I've found some of the most beautiful prose inside the Bible and I wasn't expecting that. And I've also found that while there were things I did not understand, I did get the messages of love that were preached throughout, and the messages of forgiveness. Life is so complicated, and people make it more complicated than it needs to be. The message of loving one another is such a simple thing, yet most of us can't sustain that sort of love long enough to make a difference. There are too many outside annoyances calling our attention away from what is most important and we simply allow those distractions to steal the gift of love away and put it on a back burner. I start off each day swearing to do better and by noon I'm off track. I'm not sure good intentions count for anything when good intentions are all I ever end up having.
Watermelon is great this time of the year...and air conditioning is the greatest invention of all time when it is 100 degrees outside. I feel alive when I go outside and within a minute am covered in sweat. I feel alive when I come inside and am met with a wall of cool air. I am here in this corner of the world struggling to make sense of everything that doesn't make sense. I turn the page and think about all the things I need to put down in words so that I will not be forgotten. I scream inside my head, don't forget me.
I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and we were both lamenting about how our lives did not turn out the way we had dreamed they would--how things happened that we had no control over and how we had to adapt to a different life plan. There isn't a place to go where we can just cry about the losses that probably aren't significant to most of the outside world but still feel huge to us. There's this fear of expressing dissatisfaction when you know that mostly your life is blessed, because the rule is that you count your blessings and you do not ask for more than enough when you have enough. And so we discuss this with each other and tell each other that we're lucky because we are. And the speaking of the words that feel like a betrayal helps for a while. We hang up our phones and get on with the lives we have and we feel less alone knowing there is at least one person walking the earth who feels the same things.
I'm on one of my cleaning binges again. It's always all or nothing with me and I tend to disrespect housecleaning now that I have been doing it more than half of my life. There's nothing rewarding about it but I get to the point where I feel like I need control of something, anything, and so I clean. Even when I know that tomorrow at this time everything I've done will be undone there are at least a few moments when things are in order and that gives me a little peace. My gravestone will probably read something like, She lived, She cleaned, She saw her cleaning come undone, She died.
I'm almost done the Bible and know that I will have to go back and read it all again because there is just so much to take in after just one reading. My mind is filled with all the stories and all the questions I have that I am afraid I will never get the answers to--at least not in this life. I've found some of the most beautiful prose inside the Bible and I wasn't expecting that. And I've also found that while there were things I did not understand, I did get the messages of love that were preached throughout, and the messages of forgiveness. Life is so complicated, and people make it more complicated than it needs to be. The message of loving one another is such a simple thing, yet most of us can't sustain that sort of love long enough to make a difference. There are too many outside annoyances calling our attention away from what is most important and we simply allow those distractions to steal the gift of love away and put it on a back burner. I start off each day swearing to do better and by noon I'm off track. I'm not sure good intentions count for anything when good intentions are all I ever end up having.
Watermelon is great this time of the year...and air conditioning is the greatest invention of all time when it is 100 degrees outside. I feel alive when I go outside and within a minute am covered in sweat. I feel alive when I come inside and am met with a wall of cool air. I am here in this corner of the world struggling to make sense of everything that doesn't make sense. I turn the page and think about all the things I need to put down in words so that I will not be forgotten. I scream inside my head, don't forget me.
Friday, June 12, 2009
I never wanted to fit in any place except your heart
I went with my youngest daughter to her college orientation this week. She was accepted at a top 10 university and the place is enormous but she's coming from a one of the largest high schools in the nation so it shouldn't be too big of an adjustment--just lots of walking to classes and whatnot. I spent a lot of time riding around the campus trying to find all the different places so I could get a feel for where she'll be, and for the first time in a long time I really started to feel old--like more of my life is behind me than in front of me now. I don't know if that's true--it's just how I felt at the time.
There was so much young life all around me, and feverish activity, and I remembered how it felt to be in that place feeling those things. For a moment or two, or three, I wished I could go back. I don't know if that's a horrible thing to feel or not, but I wished it with my heart. Not that I would undo anything that's happened since I've been to college, it's just that feeling I would like to get back, of the world being this wide open place filled with nothing but hope (not Barack Obama socialist hope--REAL HOPE). And I miss having dreams for myself, because most of my dreams are now for my children, and it's been this way for as long as I've had them (many, many years). I think I need to find a way to change all that and get out of this funk.
I was walking the other day and passed by this gorgeous magnolia tree. Have you ever seen one with your own eyes? They are staggeringly beautiful. The flower is like some sort of sculpture it is so exquisite. They make you want to stop and stare at them, and in this world of "hurry up and get there yesterday" that's saying something. It was the scent, though, that felt most like heaven. It's a scent you wish you could drink so you could get filled up with it. I think I will always want to live in a place where magnolia trees grow.
There was so much young life all around me, and feverish activity, and I remembered how it felt to be in that place feeling those things. For a moment or two, or three, I wished I could go back. I don't know if that's a horrible thing to feel or not, but I wished it with my heart. Not that I would undo anything that's happened since I've been to college, it's just that feeling I would like to get back, of the world being this wide open place filled with nothing but hope (not Barack Obama socialist hope--REAL HOPE). And I miss having dreams for myself, because most of my dreams are now for my children, and it's been this way for as long as I've had them (many, many years). I think I need to find a way to change all that and get out of this funk.
I was walking the other day and passed by this gorgeous magnolia tree. Have you ever seen one with your own eyes? They are staggeringly beautiful. The flower is like some sort of sculpture it is so exquisite. They make you want to stop and stare at them, and in this world of "hurry up and get there yesterday" that's saying something. It was the scent, though, that felt most like heaven. It's a scent you wish you could drink so you could get filled up with it. I think I will always want to live in a place where magnolia trees grow.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Tic toc, tic toc
"If someone love you for what you can do then it's flattering, but why do they love you? If someone loves you for who you are then they have to know you, which means you have to know them."~Ann Patchett
At the beginning of the week my husband informed me that he was taking the entire next week off because he felt burnt out from work. I wish I could be the type of wife who, when I heard something like that, could find some semblance of joy in that news. But I'm the type of person who thinks..."GRRREEAATTT!!! Another person I'll have to pick up after, and another person who just takes and takes and takes from me as though I am a never ending well of giving."
These impromptu vacations of his always involve "lists of things to do" which would be great if he took that list and did those things himself, but that's not what happens. What happens is that there becomes this constant talk of "togetherness" which translates into me doing more than my share of the work because I do things quickly while he seems to take on a supervisor role handing out critiques on how I'm coming along with whatever job he's got lined up for me. Totally not fun. His vacations mean more work for me and I don't understand why he doesn't understand why this would not excite me. These are the times when the ticking inside my head gets progressively louder by the day and because no one can see or hear it, it always comes as a surprise to everyone when I explode from the frustration of it all.
I, too, know why the caged bird sings.
Today he calls me and says, "Hey, how about next week we go room to room and deep clean everything and throw away stuff we don't need."
So, yeah, I'm really looking forward to THAT!
At the beginning of the week my husband informed me that he was taking the entire next week off because he felt burnt out from work. I wish I could be the type of wife who, when I heard something like that, could find some semblance of joy in that news. But I'm the type of person who thinks..."GRRREEAATTT!!! Another person I'll have to pick up after, and another person who just takes and takes and takes from me as though I am a never ending well of giving."
These impromptu vacations of his always involve "lists of things to do" which would be great if he took that list and did those things himself, but that's not what happens. What happens is that there becomes this constant talk of "togetherness" which translates into me doing more than my share of the work because I do things quickly while he seems to take on a supervisor role handing out critiques on how I'm coming along with whatever job he's got lined up for me. Totally not fun. His vacations mean more work for me and I don't understand why he doesn't understand why this would not excite me. These are the times when the ticking inside my head gets progressively louder by the day and because no one can see or hear it, it always comes as a surprise to everyone when I explode from the frustration of it all.
I, too, know why the caged bird sings.
Today he calls me and says, "Hey, how about next week we go room to room and deep clean everything and throw away stuff we don't need."
So, yeah, I'm really looking forward to THAT!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Searching for something
To combat monotony in my life, I have taken to cooking new things. Every week I ask around the house for suggestions and someone always comes through with an idea and I make it. I've tried lots of different things and I've had more hits than misses, however I think this is mostly about having a challenge, of doing something different. My life has come to this: I cook for a little excitement, to say I've done something new.
My youngest has only 1 more day of high school left. I thought by now my heart would be breaking with sadness for all the time that has slipped by without me really noticing. I thought tears would constantly be at the ready to fall and fall some more. But here I am, not really all that wistful or sad. I cannot cry for what I am losing because I need to focus on everything good that is in front of her. There is a world out there with its arms open wide just waiting for her. I pray the world is gentle with her, with all of us she leaves behind.
I had a bit of a meltdown last weekend and if I must say so myself, it was not one of my brightest moments. I feel this ticking inside my head sometimes, like a bomb just waiting to go off at the smallest of provocations. I've learned to turn it off a good deal of the time, but there are moments when it gets the best of me and I lose control. Afterwards I feel like such a loser--like I will never be able to rise above the pettiness of life and people because inevitably, I engage in these despicable scenes where I don't know who I am anymore. And I could not even tell you what was really wrong, just that everything felt too much and one wrong word sent me over the edge. I resolve not to do it again until I do it again then feel rotten for my lack of self-control.
I'm still searching for the truth in religion, God, faith, church, life. I have this idea that the truth should be simple, clear, static. I think that the truth should not be subjective, depending on a particular agenda we might have inside our heads. It's like molding a truth to what you want it to be. That's not real. But I'll read something about church/God/religion and it will strike such a chord with me and I think that I have found the truth and then I'll read something else that makes more sense and completely leave the first truth to stand behind the second truth I've just found. So I think--what is it? What is the truth? Are there as many truths as there are people in this world, or is there one truth that I must dig and dig to find? And will that truth still be the same 10 years from now, because I want it to be the truth 10 years from now and not have to find out that I've had faith in something false. So is it that I'm afraid to be wrong--or wrong again? I think I am. It's not like I haven't been wrong a million times before. It's not such a big deal. If I'm wrong, life will go on and I'll just believe in a new truth. I should be happy that my heart is open to hearing everything and sifting through it all to try to find what I am looking for.
My youngest has only 1 more day of high school left. I thought by now my heart would be breaking with sadness for all the time that has slipped by without me really noticing. I thought tears would constantly be at the ready to fall and fall some more. But here I am, not really all that wistful or sad. I cannot cry for what I am losing because I need to focus on everything good that is in front of her. There is a world out there with its arms open wide just waiting for her. I pray the world is gentle with her, with all of us she leaves behind.
I had a bit of a meltdown last weekend and if I must say so myself, it was not one of my brightest moments. I feel this ticking inside my head sometimes, like a bomb just waiting to go off at the smallest of provocations. I've learned to turn it off a good deal of the time, but there are moments when it gets the best of me and I lose control. Afterwards I feel like such a loser--like I will never be able to rise above the pettiness of life and people because inevitably, I engage in these despicable scenes where I don't know who I am anymore. And I could not even tell you what was really wrong, just that everything felt too much and one wrong word sent me over the edge. I resolve not to do it again until I do it again then feel rotten for my lack of self-control.
I'm still searching for the truth in religion, God, faith, church, life. I have this idea that the truth should be simple, clear, static. I think that the truth should not be subjective, depending on a particular agenda we might have inside our heads. It's like molding a truth to what you want it to be. That's not real. But I'll read something about church/God/religion and it will strike such a chord with me and I think that I have found the truth and then I'll read something else that makes more sense and completely leave the first truth to stand behind the second truth I've just found. So I think--what is it? What is the truth? Are there as many truths as there are people in this world, or is there one truth that I must dig and dig to find? And will that truth still be the same 10 years from now, because I want it to be the truth 10 years from now and not have to find out that I've had faith in something false. So is it that I'm afraid to be wrong--or wrong again? I think I am. It's not like I haven't been wrong a million times before. It's not such a big deal. If I'm wrong, life will go on and I'll just believe in a new truth. I should be happy that my heart is open to hearing everything and sifting through it all to try to find what I am looking for.
Monday, April 13, 2009
There you go with hope again
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I spent the last week sitting on a beach staring out at this awe-inspiring ocean.
I keep this memory close and take it out when I need to remember just how beautiful life can be.
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