Hello and thank you for reading today's blog entry.  I decided to give a little rawness to what I am going to share today.  This will lack the overthought I tend to have when I write, so there will be some tangents that may or may not make sense.  I only hope that when you read what I am sharing, that you understand that I am trying to be as clear as I can in the jumbled ramblings I am setting free from my jumbled thinking lately.

I really have no clue where to start because I really have a broken feeling washing over me.  Broken from opinion and speculation.  Heck, it also comes from expectations that I feel the weight of pressing down on me to be this centered, happy being that society places before us.  That nothing could possibly be wrong and that the life of perfection is just as common as breathing.  No longer is the saying that you cannot please everyone all the time happening here, because you are the magical and mystical being that can achieve such a lofty goal, all the while, never losing the truth of who you are.  People ask me all the time how I am doing and all I can muster is that I am doing well.  I am asked how my family is and I offer the same, non-descript reply of "doing well". Then, the questions of "what's new", "anything exciting happening in your life", and the ever panful question of "got any plans for (insert day, weekend, month, year and so on).  All the while, I am contemplating of telling my personal truth, but already knowing that this small talk really is not about my truth, but is just small talk to fill in the void of silence I have been offering lately.  Really, who cares about my personal struggles?

In light of my restraint from telling my truth, I have become an observer of my feeling of worth crumble into dust.  I do not have a jet setting lifestyle where I get to travel.  My anxiety has me tethered to staying in the same, small bubble that I have managed to create.. I want to live, but I am really afraid of dying.  My enabling ways has me trained to cater to people that refuse to muster up the appreciation to even offer something similar to benefit helping me.  Simply put, I am not allowed to ask for help, but expected to do everything on my own.  I am told that I talk too much, but when I am quiet and reserved, I am told that I lack communication skills.  I get mad wrong and I am too emotional when I take a moment to let a few tears fall down my cheek.  I want to connect with people, but I don't know how anymore.  I am just so jealous of those people that seem to get everything right....  Those fortunate many that have their life figured out and are successful at it.

I have been told that bullies are people that are jealous of what you have, but when you are convinced you have nothing...  What are they jealous of?  What am I not seeing that they see?  I have also been told that a person who is mean to you is just directing their pain upon you in order to feel better about themselves.  So, how is it that I am not a mean person if I am the one taking the slings and arrows of cruel intentions?  Shouldn't I be allowed to lash out in anger or frustration?  I know that when I have tried, I have been told to "grow up"  Maybe that is why the occasional tear falls down my cheek.  It is some kind of pressure valve that lets a little of the pain loose so I don't totally fall apart.  But it is the shame that I am so damn broken that gets me to detach.  Detach from family, friends, work....

Maybe my punishment is from a higher source.  Some sort of Karmic slap that just keeps on giving.  Maybe my suffering is the buffer for others to do better, so farther, and get more.  Maybe I am punishing myself because I am so accustomed to being hurt.  If I thought far enough back, I was the youngest of four.  An eight year gap between my brother and I and an even longer gap between my sisters and I.  I always felt like the unwanted sibling, the little swat to get away or get out really hurt back then.  Even now, I feel less than equal, but at least we have a slightly stronger connection than we have had in the past.  Sadly, it took the loss of both our parents for that to happen.  Marriage is never easy, but I keep trying to make it work.  I gave up so much to give more and to this day.... I am not giving up enough and not giving enough in the same breath.  Even with my job, I am missing that sweet spot that would make me successful.  My availability is wrong and while my work is on point, my value is underappreciated. 

I wonder if my destiny is to be a broken self.  Never truly successful, but capable enough to get by....  happy enough to have less, yet sad enough to be humble and angry enough to keep fighting to stay above ground.  All I can say is that I am damn tired of faking it until I make it because I just don't see ever making it... whatever "it" is.  I would like to just get this damn "kick me" sign off my back  That would be a nice start, but with years of "conditioning" that I don't deserve better... or more... or even less... I am not counting on that happening any time soon.

Yes, this is a pity party of one here.  All those "boxes" that I kept my memories in have opened and released all those broken pieces (experiences) that I would rather forget about have tumbled out.  The memories of being picked on, bullied, and shut out... the memories of all the mean slings and arrows in the form of words and looks of disgust and distain in my direction flickering back to life on the big screen in my head.  The countless times being told I am wrong to share, wrong to speak, wrong to feel, and the broken record repeat of, "grow up" echoing in my mind.  Being told that I am a selfish and self-centered human being as I recall all the times I went out of my way to be helpful.  I am recalling every moment that I was told that I could never be enough, never good enough, never pretty enough and never thin enough.  I was not the popular kid in school, I was not the cool kid either.  I was that kid that got chased home from school, taunted, teased, called names and rejected.  The few friends I managed to have, I swear felt pity for me. I tried so hard to make friends.  I hid my insecurities behind a smile and wrote poetry about the pain I felt from rejection.  In all honesty, I did manage to find some really good friends along the way, but life marches on and changes happen.  But to have a childhood that was seen as difficult then, remaining painful now just.....

Yep, cannot find the right words to finish that statement.  Not sure if it is all the other memories rearing up to take center stage, but all I can think is that I am a broken person.... I am a broken person.... I am a broken person.  I am not looking for sympathy at my pitiful state of mind.  I have decided to accept that I am broken.  That the tape and glue that holds me together is showing its wear.  That no matter what I do, I will never be perfect.  And while I am broken, I have the power to forgive those that broke me, but I sadly can never forget.  

A different reaction

A recent revelation has me thinking.  I wonder if I am a bad daughter because I am reacting differently as of late.  I really have not made much of an effort to figure if my behavior is different between the loss of my mother as to the loss of my father.  To be honest here, there has been a 20 year difference between the two.  Being close to both my mother and my father, I never put much thought in my grieving process.  Like, did I cry more or less?  Did I handle the knowledge that their passing made it hard to handle holidays, birthdays or anniversaries because they are no longer here?  Don't get me wrong, I cried when my dad passed away.  I cried when my mom passed away, too.  It is the days, weeks, months, and years that follow that has me thinking.  It is how I have changed as a person that has me wondering.  Here are a few observations....

When my dad passed away in 2001, I was far from prepared to accept his passing.  Seeing him roughly 8 hours before he passed away was difficult.  Seeing him suffer with all those tubes and wires gave me reason to question the news of his "passing away quietly and not in pain".  It had me question my faith in God and made me quite angry.  It took a lot of effort to let a tear fall at his funeral, and when the tears fell freely was the day at the cemetery when his headstone arrived.  That first year of his passing was the hardest for me, but got a little easier as each year passed.  I still miss my father, but I was never an emotional wreck.

My mom's passing on August 8, 2020, was different.  I was affected a bit differently.  I cried really hard, but I also felt relief.  She was suffering, depressed and difficult.  She was placed in hospice when the efforts to help her with her failing kidneys were not enough.  She had so many health issues.  Some were known and others she refused to face until it was too late.  I know she missed my dad and wanted to be reunited with him.  The depression was palpable and formed a cloud around her so thick, it was hard to be around her.  Watching that once viable and capable woman crumble away in front of me was painful and difficult to face.  Her need to use a walker, her inability to move around and her demeanor when it came to expectations were quite difficult to handle.  I was coming over daily to change the bandages on her legs from the weeping wounds.  She was hiding the fluid retention from her failing kidneys with blankets and was refusing to see the doctor.  She demanded constant care from her grown children that couldn't manage to make enough time and her attitude made it difficult to want to.  Don't get me wrong.... we all loved our mom, but she was far more difficult than we could handle.  We just couldn't seem to meet her expectations.  No matter how hard we tried.  When she was placed in hospice, it was the most difficult thing to face for me.  Seeing her on her "bad day" was the hardest thing for me to see, but getting to see her on the one "good day" before she passed is what has helped me through the loss process.  Having that one last conversation with her gave me peace and her mention of speaking to her long passed sister gave me hope that the afterlife is real, that heaven exists and that she is reunited with my dad in heaven.  I think that is why I seem to be more accepting of her passing.  Still sad, but more accepting.

What I have noticed after losing both my parents is how I have crawled into a shell of sorts.  My once talkative self is more quiet and I appear to be a bit detached.  My once social personality has now become more introverted and when I try to be more social, it looks forced and uncomfortable.  Am I still a little introspective when holidays and birthdays come around?  I am.  I miss both my mom and dad.  Do I still cry with the feeling of loss they left behind?  I do.  It just seems far  less than I would think is expected of what is normal.

I guess the reason I decided to share this is because of a conversation I had with a client recently.  She was aware of my mother's passing as I was aware of her husband's passing.  She asked how I was doing and how I was handling with grief.  She made me think and reflect, but also told me that grief is handled differently as everyone is an individual.  Pain from loss is not the same process from one person to the next and that the magnitude of pain will be different as well.  I said I was feeling like I was a bad daughter for not feeling the deep pain of loss that my mother felt when she lost her husband or when she lost a friend or family member of the past.  That this little feeling of relief that she was no longer suffering is actually normal.  Her suffering was making me suffer with her and that feeling of relief made me think I am a bad daughter... a selfish one.  I still think I am, but having someone validate my feelings as "normal" has lessened the blow of the realization a little.

I am already feeling a little hit to the heart this month because tomorrow (May 4th) is my mom's birthday and Mother's Day is coming up (May 9th this year).  She is not physically here and it makes me sad.  I miss her and it makes me feel terrible that I cannot find the right words.... heck, any words.

Thanks for allowing me to share and have a great day...  

Reacting wrong

The year 2020 really sucked!

It is the day before Christmas Eve 2020 and I am really trying to be optimistic, but life has been making it really hard.  While I am fully aware that I am not the only passenger on the miserable ride of 2020, and I am certain that what has happened this year is not about me while I feel otherwise....  I have one major flaw.  I react poorly to bad news.

When it comes to bad news, my reaction teeters between childish/petulant and a 2.0 version of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.... far more annoying with the negative undertones.  Of course, I am firmly believing that it really does not matter what I do/react to because I manage to drive DH nuts.  I have been told that I just cannot dial in or dial back my reaction properly.

This whole pandemic was the catalyst, to what I believe is the worst year ever.  Sure, there are some silver linings here and there that I managed to find, but believe me.... it took some serious effort to find it.  Our financial strain has been non stop since 2008 and the moment we were starting to see a little above the red line... WHAM! Smashed down under again!  I held off seeing the doctor as long as I could and because I am (cough cough) 52 years old, I finally decided to focus on my health for once.  Little did I know that unleashing the testing hounds would result in being diagnosed type 2 diabetic and all the fun pokes, prods and tests that would follow.  Colonoscopy resulted in finding 5 polyps and a request to repeat that miserable test in 5 years instead of 10.  Getting the diagnosis of Eosinophilic gastritis requires a daily pill I hate swallowing to go with the other 3 I take for my diabetes.  Restricted diet is not easy to follow when DH has such a picky palate and is the key holder to the food budget.  What I thought was a silver lining with managing to lose 60 pounds over the past 10 months became overshadowed with the demand from my doctor to lose another 50 pounds. I have managed to lose an extra 12 pounds, so 38 more pounds to go!  Starting to look like a shrinky-dink that didn't shrink properly.  Darn getting older does not allow excess skin to shrink back.  Lucky me that I look better in clothes, but I will never look good in a swimsuit....  I guess the lighter weight might keep my spine from degenerating more than it is now.  Sadly, I knew that losing weight does bring on other issues, because really, this is not my first time trying.  Last time I lost weight, I had dental issues that resulted in getting a second root canal done on a tooth to remove the elusive extra nerve the dentist missed the first round and I also got my gall bladder removed.  This time, I am staring down the barrel of getting that darn 2-time-root-canal tooth removed because it broke off at the gum line on a banana (of all things!), and have a tooth next to it removed because a different dentist misaligned a crown and left a gap in a tight space to get a cavity that is traveling down to the root.  Then, I get to spend roughly $3,000 on a partial denture so I can chew food.  Money I don't have and haven't had access to since the Obama legislation!  With all of this going on, my mom passes away and I mentally broke from the sadness.  The clients that I have at the salon, (the ones that came back after reopening during the pandemic that is still not over), have noticed that I am not the same person.  The once chatty gal is struggling to carry a conversation.  Of course, the panic attacks of working with a mask on for hours on end does not help matters much.

Of course, I am taking it personally about the things happening at home.  My printer broke and my reaction set DH into a frenzy that I need to "get a grip".  Then, the dryer breaks and DH was not thrilled to spend money we don't have on a new one, but did once he saw how much money is costs to go to the laundromat every week. Then, there was the broken maple tree in the back yard.  About 1/4th of it snapped and was wedged into the oak tree, and just between the trees are the power lines to the house.  Total hazard!  Only took several estimates for DH to pick someone to take the tree down (the tree was actually cracked all the way to the trunk and was also a threat to hitting the house), and 6 weeks for ComEd to come to cut the power so the tree can be taken down safely.  A little under $3,000 for that experience (including trimming the oak tree).  Money we don't have, yet again being spent.  I am still waiting for the water damage in my kitchen to be handled, but our homeowners insurance denied the claim and.... yep.... we don't have the money to fix it.  Luckily, DH did manage to fix the issue that created the water issue in the first place. It is just replacing what is damaged that needs to be done.

Now, there is only one thing I was allowed to react poorly to this year and that is the loss of my mom.  Well, I was allowed to react as I felt fit for a little while.  Then, I was reminded that while it is okay to grieve, it is also important to keep living.

As this year has been filled with challenges and difficulties, I did the best I could to try to find a "silver lining" in all this doom and gloom.  My biggest blessings are my grandsons.  Yep, I have 2 grandsons now.  Both were surprise pregnancies for DD, but she and her fiancé are finally getting the horse in the right place to the cart with getting married soon.  They wanted to save up for a traditional church wedding, but with 2 little ones to tend to.... a courthouse wedding will have to do.  Something else with a celebration to follow will happen at a later date.  I am thankful that everyone in my house (DH, DD, her fiancé, the grandkids, and the family dog), myself included, are relatively healthy and safe while a pandemic rages all around.  A couple of my mom's cookbooks from her expansive library have produced some diabetic friendly meals that the picky eating committee (aka DH) enjoys.  I am blessed to have a stronger connection with my siblings during this year of loss and I pray it stays strong.  I have no doubt that my parents are smiling from heaven with the knowledge that their kids are finally getting along.

So, with the chapter of the year 2020 nearing it's close, I pray that 2021 is far better than what 2020 has offered.  Thanks for letting me share my thoughts today and I hope you all have a blessed holiday and better 2021...  

Letters to Mom

I made the announcement that I would start blogging again and I knew I had to take some time to think long and hard as to what I would decide to share.  Trust me, it has been really hard to unleash the blogging beast after such a long break.  What I failed to mention was that I did something I even harder than typing my feelings for those who choose to read my blog just last month.  I wrote my first eulogy.

I think the dent in my forehead from bashing it on the table, trying to find the right words to write that eulogy, has finally healed.  Now, I suffer writer's block something fierce.  You see, that eulogy was for my mom that passed away on Saturday, August 8, 2020.

Now, as over a month has passed, I did my best to go through the grieving period.  Most of my crying happened, in secret, while my mom was in the hospital, then in a nursing home, back to the hospital, back to the nursing home, and while she was in hospice.  All this happened in roughly a month, during a pandemic, nonetheless.  I did my bet to hold it together for those around me, but my family saw the strain and pain I felt.  I tried to hide reading books, playing games on my Kindle, and a few times I spent praying at my father's grave for strength.  Because of the pandemic, visiting my mom was not exactly allowed.  That is, when she was placed in hospice, we were allowed to visit her, but with the restrictions, it was a process.  I can at least admit that while it was really hard to see my mom in her final stages, I did get to see her a couple times before the call came that she passed.  One day, I call "the bad day:, and the other "the good day".

The first day my mom was placed in hospice, I was called at work.  Having a light day and basically done with my clients for the day, I raced out of work to go see her.  Being told that my siblings would understand if I didn't go see her, I knew deep in my heart I had to.  That day, was the bad day.  She was sedated, confused... and a little detached from her surroundings. She couldn't speak.  Her beautiful blue eyes looked almost translucent in color, and a tear formed in the corner of her eye.  I was not sure if she even recognized me.  Seeing her like that nearly killed me.  I did my best to not cry and talked to her.  All I remember saying is that I loved her and that everything is going to be okay.  I ran from that room crying all the way back to my car, and sat there crying for a good half hour.  Once I calmed down, I went and saw my brother for a bit, then I went home.

The second day of hospice, I was not all that certain I could return there alone.  I didn't know if I was strong enough to see my mom again.  I called my brother to see how he was doing and he got a call from my older sister, telling him that mom was alert and talkative.  Shocked to hear this, but thrilled to go see her, I raced back to the nursing home to see for myself.  To my relief and surprise, my mom looked great.  We had a good talk and I managed to get out what I needed to say about how much I loved her, to tell her I am sorry that I failed her as a daughter.  I should have done more for her instead of pushing her to do more for herself.  While I admitted that I have always seen her as a strong and capable woman, I should have listened more to her truth than brushed it off like I did for so long. She said she forgave me and loved me.  She reminded me that she is proud and loves all her kids no matter what.  We talked about my daughter, my grandson, and my husband.  She asked about work, and our conversation fell back into what we usually did.  She told me she wanted to go home and I said she would, knowing that was not going to be the case made me feel sick to my stomach, but deep down I had hope that would happen.  I noticed her looking tired, so I told her I loved her one more time for good measure and said I would be back the next day.  That was the good day.

The next two days that followed were bad days and I couldn't bring myself to have my last memory of her be from the bad days, so I didn't go.  She passed away the next morning.

Knowing that blogging would help with the grieving process, I hemmed and hawed over what I would blog about.  I had too much and too little to share.  My panic attacks came back with a vengeance.  With those attacks, I tend to do one of two things... I shut up or I shut down.  I have done both.

I announced on social media that I would start blogging again and started to think of what I should blog about and this one thought came to mind.... Letters to Mom.  You see, the first thing about losing a parent is the inability to have a conversation with them anymore.  That daily phone call.  Sometimes I would do the dialing and others... she would do the dialing.  I could easily dial up her number, but she is not there to pick up anymore and that just hurts.  With the eulogy that I wrote for her, I felt I said all that I could have said, but there are some times it would be so wonderful to still have a conversation with her.  I know prayer can do that, but I wanted to do something more.  Maybe it will help squash the panic attacks, maybe it will let me share what I would say if she was here to show you the relationship I had with my mom, but without her "nothing held back opinions", it will definitely fall short.  so here goes....

Hi Mom,

I bought a journal the other day.  I know, I know... that crackpot of a therapist didn't help with finding how to stop the panic attacks, but maybe she had something right.  Maybe, if I write you letters about how I am feeling, then maybe I can crack the code to jam those damn feelings of that I am going to die at any given moment back into the box of things to stop fretting about.  I know it is a tall order to do that, but I am at least going to try.  So here goes.

Let's start with the obvious.  I feel a little lost since you have been gone.  I also became a little curious about life and started reading the bible.  I am not that far into reading it, but I am willing to take some time from my day to read a little.  I guess I am trying to find solace in my faith that life does go on.  Since I had a talk with my priest all those years ago, I am still grasping that while faith is blind, it is that faith that allows me to believe that God does have a plan for everyone.  Including me.  Doesn't give much to ease my mind not knowing what is going to happen to me.  Nor does it give me peace to take comfort that when my time comes that it doesn't leave me feeling like I missed something, or left something behind that causes pain to those I left behind.  Sure, my brother, my sisters and myself are handling things fine in your absence, but that is because you taught us to move forward.  Heck, sometimes you pushed us forward against our will.  You were a great teacher.  I am not all that certain that I managed to follow your footsteps for my daughter.  Maybe you could give me a guiding hand sometime?  That is, if you feel compelled to do so.  Since I gather that Heaven is all that we have been told it is to be.  I guess that is why I am turning to reading the bible.  To understand what God has for us and also be thankful for his son and his sacrifices to make that happen.

Work has been slow lately.  Not sure if it is the hype of rushing through the doors dying down or if the fact that the economy tanked that is killing business, but I have had a little more free time on my hands lately,  Oh, and if you offered a little help to push our circa 1970 Maytag dryer to pasture?  Thanks!  You knew I wouldn't see a new appliance in this house until all attempts of fixing it fails.  Looking forward to the new Maytag dryer to be delivered at the end of the month.  As for now?  I have to go to the laundromat.  Kind of a pain in the tush to do that, but when laundry needs to be done... it gets done.

Well, that is all I have time for today.  DH is home for lunch and I have a doctor's appointment.

 I miss you mom...

Thanks for reading.   

They say I am, but I say I am not..... or am I?

There are some days I feel that there is a huge target on my back, telling people to kick me down.  I am not all that certain why I feel this way, but I have noticed a pattern I need to break or I will become another statistic.  Trust me, what I mean by "statistic" is just another person labeled depressed.  Not suicidal.  Thus today's blog.

I fully understand that people can get depressed from time to time.  That feeling of being "down in the dumps" is what comes to mind.  As described in multiple viewings of what depression is, I believe that everyone is depressed from time to time.  That lack of desire to do things once enjoyed seems to be the main component in deciphering if you are depressed or not.  Of course, there are the feelings of worthlessness, the desire to stay in bed, crying jags, weight gain/loss, and as I could go on and on with the other factors considered, I would like to try to explain how I am feeling.  Obviously, with hopes that I can get out of this "funk" I have been in for quite a while.

On the surface, I am a happy person with a sense of humor.  A sarcastic one at that.  This is what I allow people to see.  Unbeknownst to everyone, I feel trapped, silenced into submission that my fears, my sadness, my frustrations hold zero validity in being discussed with anyone.  Especially, those I have chosen to share my deepest feelings.

As I tend to be more of an empathetic soul, I tend to do more and ask less.  A problem solver that strives to make people feel better and be happier.  Case in point, my husband.  While I am aware that my husband is just like me (happy on the outside, troubled on the inside), he has managed to break free from the crushing feeling by talking to me about his feelings.  Sometimes, I try to offer some sage advice that I have been given, but he shuts me out.  A recent complaint about work had me figuratively swatted on my nose with a newspaper when I offered my opinion.  I was only trying to offer a different perspective to diffuse the situation, but I have been told that it is "none of my business", and "I have no clue what I am talking about".  I can only gather that he wanted to vent and did not ask for help from me, but it was done in a manner of which I believed he wanted feedback, empathy, or to bounce around some ideas to fix the problem.  The backlash I received was just another notch in the feeling of worthlessness column.

Being aware that people can be stressed at times, I tend to try to help where help is not asked for.  Case in point, my daughter.  She happens to have a lot on her plate with being a young mom, a part time college student and a part time worker at a local grocery store.  Being as smart as she is, she is in some difficult classes that have high expectations.  All I was trying to do was help her be more organized so it would be easier for her when it comes to the demands of time constraints.  Running around, looking for things only adds more stress to a stressful situation.  Being organized is a way to keep chaos in check and offer a little comfort of the mind that you know where everything is.  From planning the next day the night before makes a smoother flow of the day, thus not frazzling your nerves trying to figure out simple things like what to wear, to what to pack for lunch, to having all the necessary papers for class.  The only rule that ever stuck with her was to get homework done when you get home and then do other things more fun afterwards.  At least, your time is better managed that you are not up all night or scrambling to get the assignments done in the morning they are due.  While my daughter is a lot like me, she is just as confrontational as her father when I try to help.  Is it wrong for a mother to offer helpful hints when everything seems so crazy?  As she is a sensitive soul, like me, she seems to be so sensitive that she shuts me out of having real conversations.  Yet again, another notch in feeling worthless.

Not trying to place blame on anyone, but there are times I feel the need to talk.  I have concerns that are real to me, but in the eyes of others, they are nothing but nuisances and stuff I just need to "get over".  In fact, I am accused to being constantly plagued with things I need to "get over".  That feeling that I am drowning in anxious thoughts, and disappointment. 

This past year has been filled with doctor appointments and tests.  Tests that I have avoided for a while.  Turning 50 has not felt like the new 30's as some people like to claim.  Especially for women.  Between the annual mammogram, pap smear, and physical, you would think that is enough for a person, but once 50 rolls around, there are bone density tests, eye exams, colonoscopies, endoscopes, EKG's, and so on.  Feeling 10 feet tall and bulletproof stops when your mortality rests upon preventative tests to stay alive.  Fear of the "C - word" takes center stage.  We all would like to remain blissfully unaware of our demise, but there are some that are better than others at dealing with mortality fears than others.  I am not one of them.  Just the thought of what may or may not happen plagues me daily.  Some days, it is fairly easy to brush these fears off, but there are some days I really need someone to talk me down from the figurative ledge.  This is where I feel lost because when I reach out for someone to talk to about my fears, I am ridiculed for my feelings.  I am told that everyone doesn't need to hear how I am feeling.  Nobody cares that I feel like I am about to jump out of my skin in fear.  That everyone else made it through whatever I went through just fine.  That worrying about the "what ifs" and the "what could be's" is a waste of energy.  To just "get over myself" and forget that grain of sand in my path.  Just so you know... grains of sand do accumulate if there is nothing to stop them from accumulating.

As I would like to share a little more thought, I hear DH getting restless.  It is grocery shopping day and I need to get the list made and the planned meals of the week approved by the PEPIMHC (Picky Eating People In My House Committee).  If you are interested in reading more of this topic and my hopeful finding of a solution... stay tuned.  I will write more later.

Does a healthy mind really make a healthy body?

I was a thin gal once.  It took me until my teenage years to get there, but I was thin once.  What I found interesting back then was all I had to do was move more than most to get there.  You see, back then, I was able to eat candy and ride my bicycle for miles and managed to lose weight.  I guess it was the “move more” movement that worked for me, but once I got my drivers license, I resorted to eating less… way less to stay thin through the rest of my teenage years.  Little did I know that I would go down a very long spiral into becoming a stress eater with high expectations that being on a diet for a week would be the answer I need to get thin again.  Adulthood really let me down when I worked in an office and sat most of the day.  When I worked in the salon, I was on my feet.  There has never been a balance to consider as my age went up with my waistline.  The moment I fully landed in obesity city is when I was pregnant with my daughter.  Probably didn’t help that I waited until I hit my 30’s to become a mother, but having my daughter was worth it.  I sadly was complacent in overweight-ville for far too long and lost focus.

 

Believe me, I tried dieting to lose the weight, but there were so many roadblocks that set me up for failure.  I tried Jenny Craig and managed to lose a few pounds, but could not see myself eating Jenny Craig approved TV dinners for the rest of my life.  I had heard of some people succeeding, but would land back in obese city once they were left to their own devises to maintain that goal weight.  Sure, there were some that probably won the battle and stayed a winner, but I have no doubt that there were just as many that fell off the goal weight pedestal they worked at getting to.  I had tried Weight Watchers…. Twice!  I did well my first round with losing 45 pounds, but hit the brick wall of a plateau that had me quit.  I figured that once the scale budged more than a tenth of a pound, I would jump back on the food Nazi bandwagon and get to my goal.  It was nice to have anything I wanted to eat and maintain my weight, but lost focus and my weight skyrocketed before I could stop it.  I went back to Weight Watchers to try again, but their program changed in a way that I couldn’t meet that important weight loss goal of 10% of my body weight.  It was like my body decided that losing weight was a bad thing and held tightly to every fat cell that resided inside me.  It was a plateau situation all over again!  Only, I managed to lose 15 pounds and not the 45 I once lost before.

With even more weight to lose compared to the first time on Weight Watchers, I decided that after a year of no changes on the scale, I decided to go on the journey alone.  At least my wallet got a break.  That monthly fee to sit in meetings and be told it is bad to eat like normal people when it came to celebrations and eating out with friends.  That constant nagging need to figure if I could spare the points for my day to have a piece of cake at the birthday party or a few chips with salsa for a snack.  Heck, trying to figure out how many points it is for the salad dressing at the restaurant was giving me a migraine.  I understand that things should hold a value, but every bleeping crumb that passed my lips was getting to be a bit tiresome.  Then, let’s not forget the activity points you can earn.  Gee, was shoveling the driveway of snow for an hour a high intensity exercise with more points I can eat?  Or was my shoveling of the snow for an hour a low intensity activity because I didn’t throw out my back?  I was truly starting to believe that I lacked the ability to decide for myself anymore, but I at least figured that if I ate less carbs and ate more lean meats with vegetables and fruit, something will happen.

For the next couple years, I thought I had my eating all figured out, but then the evil beast all women call Menopause came knocking on my door.  The hot flashes, the mood swings, the night sweats and the itchy skin came to play and they brought the most unwelcome friend to the party…. Weight gain.  That beast thwarted every attempt I made to lose weight.  Sure, I had a moment that proved promising and that was drowning myself in drinking only water.  Sadly, I was not aware that too much of a good thing can potentially kill you when your sodium levels drop and you almost pass out doing ordinary tasks around the house, but I did lose 10 pounds.  With a little tweaking, I got myself back to feeling normal again, but it took me gaining those 10 pounds I lost.

I had accepted my fate and my body decided that I am meant to be obese.  That is when something changed inside me.  I started losing weight!  Albeit, it was not much.  A pound or two here and there, but there was progress.  I recall going to the doctor and was told to step on that blasted scale, only to find that I was down 4 pounds!  It is not anything monumental in the eyes of my doctor, but it was a welcome surprise to me!  I started thinking long and hard as to how this happened and came to the conclusion that my daily taking of a multivitamin was the step in the right direction.  Sure, I took vitamins while on all those diets and restrictive eating plans I tried over the years, but this just seemed…. Different.  It was not some disgusting horse-pill sized daily vitamin that got stuck in my throat every day.  It was a chew-able gummy vitamin that tasted like candy to me.  Made taking vitamins so much easier and I actually look forward to taking them.  I also added a probiotic gummy that has prebiotics for digestive health.  It was like getting candy for an after breakfast treat!  With taking vitamins daily now, I noticed that I am not painfully sick in the fall and winter like I have been, and it has become easier to eat in moderation.  Of course, eating in moderation has been something I always worked on, but there have been times I would take a second helping without thinking much of it.

Another thing I noticed is that my family life has changed.  I became a grandma almost a year ago and with the additional mouth to feed and the budget to maintain, I went into what I call the martyr mode of eating.  I made sure that everyone had enough to eat before I even think of having seconds of anything (and that included vegetables), and I always make my portions small to start.  Noticing that being satiated was enough and getting stuffed only made me want to throw up.  Along with the change in eating, I was moving more because I had more cleaning set before me.  I have noticed that I am okay with snacking here and there, but even that has improved.  I am not denying myself anything and it is so freeing from all those years of counting calories, points, and whatnot while forcing a diet on myself.

Sure, there are times I do not see those big changes on the scale, but every pound matters.  The last time I stepped on the scale for my official total, I was down a total of 41 pounds!  Of course, there are times the number on the scale goes the wrong way, or no way at all, but I remind myself that getting upset only pushes me to give up hope.  I am losing this weight for myself and nobody else.  I have a goal weight in mind and I remind myself that it will take time.  That there are obstacles everywhere, but if I appreciate the progress and not beat myself on the setbacks, I believe that there is hope that I can get there.  Not in the time-frame that I would like to have, but in the time-frame that my body allows it… it will happen.  It boils down to having a little self-love and a whole lot of patience.

Just recently, a client that has not seen me in months came in to get her hair done.  As I walked up to greet her, she gave me the compliment that I needed to hear… “WOW! You lost weight!  I almost didn’t recognize you!!”  Just knowing that people can see the change means a lot to me.  It validates the progress that I have made and is peeling away the pounds that were hiding the person inside.  The person I am proud of.  As long as I remain positive in my efforts and strive to keep trying.... I will get there.

So, in conclusion.... Does a healthy mind make a healthy body?  I think it does.

Thanks for reading and have a great day!

Typing out loud (a mental pressure release)...

I was going to begin today's blog entry with a disclaimer, but to be totally honest here... I always wondered why I need to explain myself about explaining myself.  That I blog as a form of release to what is trapped within me that I need to talk, or rather type out loud something that is on my mind.  What I blog about is feelings I have over things that happen around me.  My end result, if a person chooses to read this blog, is to maybe see that they are not alone and maybe, just maybe, they can relate in some way.  I am not here to point blame at anyone else, but myself on why I feel like I do.  What I do hope to really get out of my typing out loud is a way to find a solution (by typing it out) to why I am feeling the way that I do.  Many call this therapy, I see it as a reset to my feelings... a release of sorts, one thought at a time.  Of course, with a load of revisions that make what I have to say too further explain myself poorly.

Fact:  Everyone has someone that will judge you regardless of the efforts made.  Heck, some people are so focused that their beliefs are the only ones everyone needs to adhere to, and will utilize their full arsenal of their logic to verbally eviscerate you for thinking otherwise.  I am not one of those people, but have fell victim to such attacks often.  Thus, it is taking me to second guess sharing my raw truth today, but part of my process of blogging is to accept that there are some very critical people out there that will lash out.  I just need to be strong enough to brave the slings and arrows with understanding, compassion and love because we all have our own stories to tell and battles to fight.

*****

I believe that I am an empathetic person.  I also believe that my level of empathy has been learned over years of experiences that required to think of others first.  This is in no way of being sympathetic, and yes, I looked up the definitions to make certain of the difference.  What I do find interesting is how both can play off one another.  Sympathy is a reactive feeling, while empathy is the deeper understanding.  What I am trying to understand is how my deeply ingrained level of empathy can turn me so raw with emotion.  So raw, that it scares me.  Could it be because I am exposed to so much hurt around me all the time that it is actually breaking my spirit?  I am not sure, but I am not the easily jovial person I once was.  Sure, you can call me depressed, but I do not fit in the cookie-cutter description of a depressed person.  Sure, I can get sad from time to time, but how do I explain how I can feel emotions off of people?  It doesn't happen all the time, and I would like to admit that I am wrong more times than I am right, but when it does..... it punches me in the gut.... hard.  It is hard to believe that I actually felt a person's fear by touching their shoulder, but I did.  The anxiety of having no control and the fear of it happening.  Heck, I was experiencing a charged atmosphere filled with anger, frustration and impatience that punched me in the gut so hard, I thought I was going to throw up!  Another time, I walked into a room and felt so overwhelmed that I felt like I couldn't breathe!  It felt like the air was filled with sludge of sadness, loneliness, and defeat. I am not all that certain if these feelings are the true feelings of what is around me, or rather this is just my own inner feelings rising to the surface, but what I have been feeling is not willing to be ignored.  What I do find strange is if I am depressed, then why can I find calm and contentment in the storm of emotions?

Upon further thought, I am curious as to why I feel the way that I have been feeling lately?  Maybe it is the sympathetic part of me that I fear I would hurt the feelings of others with my inner storm.  I know that DD will probably read this and tell me that I am wrong, but as of late, I have noticed a level of stress bubbling under the surface with her.  Understandably, I know that it is due to her busy life of college, work and being a mom.  I understand the need to just shut me out of deep conversations because we are of different generations and different life experiences, but we also know that we lack real communication skills.  That is my fault because I just refuse to believe that some, or even most of her challenges are as daunting as she claims it to be.  As her mom, I become this person I claim I am not... a judgmental one.  I know it is because I have expectations from her.  Expectations that she achieves more than I have.  To reach the goals of greatness that I see in her where I have admittedly fallen short on.  Of course, my expectations have come at a price.  A price that others may see as enabling her by doing things she is capable of doing, if given the chance.  Then, there is my inability to comment on the positive acts she has done and push her to do even more, or point out where she needs to improve.  What really makes me mad at myself is how I could demand more from her if I am the one lacking and pushing for perfection if I have flaws of my own to deal with!  Of course, I also see a bit of fear in her eyes.  The same fear I have in mine.  The fear of failure where succession is required.  I guess that is why DD chooses to avoid the deep conversations with me.  Really, how can someone talk about fear of failure to the one person they don't want to disappoint?  

I don't want to disappoint anyone.  That is the "people pleaser" in me.  I believe that is the crux in my enabling dilemma.  I want everyone to be happy.  My job requires it, my family needs it, and I am forgetting how to be happy with myself.  I wonder if my internal sadness is what is bringing everyone down.  My intentions are to not be so sad, emotional, or in physical pain so often.  I am not pleased with my inner turmoil about how I got this way.  Sure, I can blame everyone about how I am feeling, but the one person responsible is me.  I am responsible for my achievements, my failures, and my feelings.  I believe it is a matter of strength to stand up and take ownership of all successes and failures.  To stand up and face those slings and arrows that will come my way from blogging.  To be graceful and appreciative to kind words and support.  To be accepting that not everything is going to be perfect or even just okay.  To continue on my journey of life lessons and maybe, just maybe, be a little more brave.

I think that is enough for today.  

Thanks for reading. 

His way / her way.....

For years, I have been struggling with understanding DH.  While I know that while dating, he was much easier to understand.  It was after we got married is where I felt I became confused.  You see, we changed.  I became more focused on family and acknowledgement of the effort put into it.  I also had expectations that were to build from the foundation of our dating relationship, even bordering upon what I saw in other married couples and their families.  Little did I know I have been living with blinders on for so long.  I can easily say that I am a bit selfish when it came to what I thought marriage was all about.  I mean. really, marriage is not all about accolades and pats on the back for what you do.  It is much more and not always what you think or expect.  It is more about being selfless than selfish.

Sure, we can have expectations and opinions on how two people connect and stay connected, but we need to remember that everyone does things differently to get their point across.  It takes being open to looking at things at a different angle to get a better picture.

Almost 7 months ago, DD had a baby.  As an old saying goes, "man plans, God laughs", but in this case.... it is a blessing we so needed in my family and I am thankful for the blessing my grandson is.  During her pregnancy, I saw two big things I would have not seen coming.  DD maturing in such a manner that I am so proud of her, and DH being even more of the stoic rock that holds us together.  His acceptance and support made my heart grow to double it's size, and when he finally opened up to me with his feelings (which, is not something he likes to do)in words, he opened my eyes to see how much he does love me and our growing family.  I learned that while I am one to expect words from DH, I failed to see his actions in the same light.  That moment he opened up and exposed his feelings through words, I started to understand.  He assumed the actions he did were the words that spoke volumes to me and his family, but I failed to see the meaning.  Obviously, a classic lack of communication that I have heard that makes marriages fail.  Fortunately, DH and I are stubborn enough to tough it out.  Believe me, we had a moment where we would have parted ways.  It was discussed, but luckily we decided to try harder and do better. So far, we are at 21 years and still trudging along together.

I guess that there comes a time when something so small becomes the catalyst that expands the vision we so desperately need to continue forward.  While most may see that speaking of feelings is small in the grand view of things, it is huge when it comes to DH and myself.  Sure, I can blog my feelings, but I will admit I am not the best at "talking" feelings.  Probably because I fear hurting someone else's feelings.  I don't want that ability to shoot first and worry about the damage later.  I am not so painfully self-righteous that I treat everyone in my path as a moron lacking common sense.  I am aware that my views on things are different than some, and sometimes different than most, but I never felt it is necessary to cram my opinions down the throats of every person I come across.  Hell, I have never targeted a single person with disdain because I am not their biggest fan.  I refuse to argue over trivial crap just to prove a point.  I guess that is why I choose to put my head down and take my lashings, but there are times I do try to stand up for what I believe in or believe is right.  I don't see myself as weak, I see myself as tired.  But when I hear words of feelings that support me and the efforts I put forth... I feel validated.

For years, I felt unappreciated for all that I do.  The sacrifices I make for my family not being validated has been my anchor.  Unbeknownst to me, the same feelings existed inside DH.  While what he believed was what a marriage was all about, did not register to what my views have been, and for years we have been at an impasse.  Both silently fighting without a word being spoken.  Sure there have been outbursts here and there.  Mostly about trivial crap that repeats itself a few times before something is said.  Still, this silent argument will continue because we are now at a point that we are taking things for granted again, but the argument has weakened some because we had a moment that placed a spotlight where we needed it to be.  Highlighting that we have our own set of actions that does say that we do really care and love one another.

I am in no way saying what we have in our marriage is perfect.  There are times I wonder what goes through DH's head sometimes.  I wonder what his upbringing has taught him to believe in some of the actions, or non-actions, taken are considered appropriate.  What is thought of as "normal" expectations of family.  I would assume the same goes for me when DH wonders why I do the things I do. 

I have a fairly recent event that proves that DH and I were raised differently.  Almost a month ago, I tripped down the bottom of my stairs on a dog toy and hurt my foot and ankle.  As I was crying at the bottom of the stairs, swearing up a blue streak, DH's only comment at first was... "You okay?"  With my colorfully worded reply of "no", all he could say is, "what do you want me to do about it?"..  Really????  An ice pack would be nice.  Maybe an offer to take me to the doctor to get it checked out?  Nope.  Just shouting stupid questions from the comfort of his damn chair is what I get.  I wonder if his mother was the only caregiver in the family.  No judging here, but maybe it is just a guy thing because I do not recall my dad offering medical assistance to my mom if she hurt herself.  It is possible that boys and men cornered the market on being taken care of instead of being caregivers.  I can only assume the exception to the rule is male doctors because it is their profession to be a caregiver, but not exactly in the capacity of a woman, though.  I just find it odd that there has always been an imbalance of sorts.  Of course, if DH fell down the steps.... one of two things would happen.... 1. He would act like he is dying, or 2. He would grit his teeth and "walk it off" to prove a point how tough he is.  I can say this.... the pain level is the deciding factor and DH is stubborn enough to avoid the doctor.  Could be a third option, come to think of it.... He could do both 1 and 2 while arguing that he does not need to see a doctor.  Totally frustrating when he does that, but I would not be rolling my eyes while I try to be helpful like he was.

I guess what I am getting at is communication is hard and the way people communicate does become easier once you pay attention to the little things because it is those little things that can shine a bright light on something you are lacking to see.  Actions do speak volumes if you are willing to listen with your eyes from time to time.  Be aware, try to understand, and if you need to hear the words... all you need to do is ask.  Sure, it may sound needy to ask for validation, but those that truly love you will not see it as weakness,  but as strength to acquire it.  Sure, there is another edge to the sword that is the opposite, but life is like that.... in order to feel love, you need to experience heartbreak... in order to be understood, you need to find a way to express yourself that makes sense.... in order to to have balance, you need to give and receive.  Life is messy, complicated and painful at times, but it can be wonderful, too.  It all boils down to choices.  You can choose to focus on the negatives or you can choose to find the positives 

Fear factor mash-up

Good morning.  I have not done much when it comes to blogging lately, as well as being social media active.  I have my reasons and it fits perfectly with today's blog entry.  That is why I an titling this, "Fear Factor Mash-Up".

A couple years back, there was a whole stir of drama over my blog and the sharing of my thoughts.  The phone calls that only offered scathing opinion about me blogging my thoughts had me take a strong stand on cutting off the drama at it's knees through taking a long break from all forms of media.  I stopped blogging, I stopped being socially active on social media, and I even screened my calls through weighing the value of hearing another scathing opinion or debate topic at how I am destroying lives through sharing my thoughts on things.  I never really thought that picking apart my thought process, exposing my raw feelings, and basically sharing my opinion was so dangerous to those I never even wrote about.  Every word shared was picked apart in such a manner that twisting it into something it wasn't became the fuel to bully me into hiding in the corner and the starting point of how much I hated who I am.  I, to this day, truly believe that I just don't matter, and sharing anything with anyone is just a waste of time and energy.  I have become the poster child of what to avoid.

Now, if you happen to have a conversation with me, I appear perfectly fine.  I will crack jokes on my behalf.  I tend to be a little insightful, but I also try to keep my talking to a minimum.  I believe that I have hit my limit on being told that I talk too much, I talk to loud, and I lack the ability to do all that much right.  But in all honesty, I am a beaten down individual.  I am fearful of hurting anyone's feelings and I am a self proclaimed "people pleaser"; a person that never asks for anything, but will jump to do even more if there is a hint of displeasure.  My home life is one example.  I do all the cooking, cleaning and errand running for everyone in my home.  I have enabled my family to expect things to be done for them.  I alter my plans to rush home to cook dinner so my family can be fed when they come in the door.  I wash the dishes because nobody is willing to step up and help and a sink filled with dirty dishes and a pile of dirty stuff is frowned upon here, but if I left a sink filled with dirty dishes with the hopes someone would help me, one of two things happen....  The sink stays filled with dirty dishes, or someone will complain that there are no dishes to eat off of.  On the rare occurrences that someone does wash the dishes.... they will either demand credit or complain that they always wash the dishes.  Same goes for laundry.  I will sort, wash, dry and fold the laundry.  My only request is that they put their clean clothes away.  What usually happens is that clothes are grabbed from the piles to be worn and as they look through the clean clothes, a majority of it gets unfolded, and tossed to the floor.  There are times people will do a load of laundry, but it ends up in one of three places....  sitting in the washing machine (wet), sitting in the dryer (dried), or thrown on the dryer (not folded in a wrinkly pile.  Sometimes, stuff is still wet in the pile). While nobody seems to care all that much, it is heartbreaking that nobody wants to help me.  If I ask.... I am fighting a battle that I always lose at.

I will admit that I liked talking to people.  That is, until I was told (repeatedly) that I talk too much.  Well, that and the opinion that what I have to say is useless.  I am socially inept on social media.  I have no niche to claim as my own.  I hate ruffling the metaphorical feathers of others, so I try to avoid offering an opinion.  Being told that my opinions are stupid and the diatribe to follow that points out as to why I am so uninformed just makes me run and hide.  I am not a death-watch monger that feels the need to talk about death all the time.  I never understood the need to seek out depressing topics of discussion.  I am not all "zen", like some of my friends with daily motivational reminders that I am worthy because.... let's be honest here.... I don't feel all that worthy.  I just try to do my best and hopefully make it through the day without pissing someone off.  I hate confrontation.  With being beaten down to just keep my damn mouth shut has me be that pathetic girl hiding in the corner, hoping to be noticed. I hate taking pictures of myself because I know that I am not photogenic, and when someone takes a picture of me.... all I see are the flaws that society tries to avoid front and center.  I believe that there are some really good causes out there that need support (animals, kids, cancer, wounded warriors, homelessness), but I can't pick just one to stand behind fully.  Hell, I'm a "cause" I can't even stand behind. 

I have become a wishy-washy fearful person that has lost her way because of her people-pleasing ways.  I just want people to be happy around me, but I fail every stinking time.  So in this mash-up, I am facing my fears of what people think because I already know that I will never measure up to those perfect people that dictate what I need to change to be more acceptable in public.  So here I am.  Ready to take on more silent opinion where I am lacking.  I lack the thin physique of my youth, I am not as wrinkle free as I was, I am a worn-down shell of a once vital woman that holds everything back because I really do want to be loved (flaws and all), and lacking appreciation for all that I can accomplish.  I am not asking to be put on a pedestal and praised, but sometimes it feels as if I really want to.  Maybe it is the lack of thought when it comes to me.  The feeling I get that I really do not matter anymore is what hurts.  I never had a party thrown in my honor (for those wondering... a birthday party.  Being born so close to a holiday... nobody ever came to my childhood birthday party.  DH never threw me a 40th birthday party like I did for him, nor did he do one for my 50th last year), I never get a "just because" surprise offering of flowers, I never received a "thinking of you" card in the mail, and while I am not a person that hugs people all that much.... I would really like to get a hug once in a while from someone.  Even a kind word that I am worthy would be nice.

Okay, now go on and dissect what I shared today.  I will be awaiting the call with what I have done wrong this time.  Oh, and no "pity calls" please.  I have a lot to do and very little help with getting it done.  Enjoy your day and thanks for being curious enough to read this.

Never ready

I knew there would come a day that my job as a mother would come to an end.  I know that I will always be a mom for DD, but she has taken on a big responsibility of her own.  She became a mom.  Yep, my baby girl is a mom to an adorable baby boy.  The story of how she became a mother is quite the adventure, but not my story to tell.  I can definitely say while this was a surprise and obviously not planned, it is truly a blessing nonetheless.  My grandson is a real charmer!  Yep, I am a grandmother at (cough, cough) 50.

What today's installment is about it how life manages to shift and change without respect of time needed to process to new stages of life.  It feels like it was only yesterday that I was holding my baby girl in my arms.  I remember telling her to never grow up so I don't ever have to face the day she becomes an adult and will start a life of her own.  Regardless of her resistance to listening to what I say, she grew up..... way too fast for my liking, but she is a person I am proud of.  She fought with me often, she tried my patience on multiple occasions, but I would never change a thing.  Well, maybe some things, but having her in my life is not one of them.  There were times I actually wished she would understand how hard it is to be a mother and understand why we do the things we do.  I was just not prepared for her to become a mother now.  I can agree with the phrase, "Man plans, God laughs", because I had big plans for her and he decided otherwise.  I wanted her to follow the plans my mother laid out before me (get your life in order, get married, then have kids), sure it is traditional and what was expected in my mother's generation, but it still manages to make sense.  Since that plan did not happen, DD has a tougher road to follow, but I still want to help her reach her goals regardless of the challenges she now has bestowed upon her.  She has not finished college (she just started), has not started a career, and while I am aware of her boyfriend's proposal.... is not married.  I am aware that in this day and age, it is not a requirement to be married to have a child, but it does offer some piece of mind that there is another person committed to a relationship and to the care of an innocent life.  I know that DD's fiance' is a good guy.  He is fully ensconced in the role of father, he is being financially supportive of my grandson, he is supportive of DD and her desire to finish college, and he loves her about as much as he loves his son (which is a lot)....  it actually makes me a little jealous that she has such a supportive partner.  DH is a good guy, but was not as involved in the day-to-day needs when DD was a baby.  He was supportive, but there always seemed to be some kind of disconnect between them.  I believed it is because DH is not one to share feelings while DD needed him to show more emotion.... to make a deeper connection.  Thinking back, I can see that he tried, but at the time it did not feel like all that much.  How sad is that?  DH was not given credit for trying until now.

Given that the arrival of my grandson was considered not just a surprise, but a fast and furious adventure, so has the progression of things I am not prepared for.  I was not exactly prepared to have a grandson, but here I am embracing it like a duck takes to water.  I love that little nugget like if he was my baby.  Yep, I do call him nugget. I have embraced having DD and the little nugget live with us.  I knew they have been planning on moving out, but I thought I had more time.  I was (and am) still not prepared for her leaving so soon.  You see, my previous plans are still firmly in place in my mind.  She has not finished her studies at the local college yet, so she would still live here.  Then, her plans were to transfer to another college that would require her to move away for school and I get those random weekend visits that buries me in dirty laundry and an empty fridge.  Once she finished with college, she would live with me for a while as she would find a job and get her future in order, then, she would move out.  I figured I had at least another 4 or 5 years.  After the announcement last night that an apartment was found, I get only another week or two to have her and the baby here.  I am blessed to at least have some time with both my daughter and grandson under my roof, but I fear that once I am no longer so close.... I will no longer be needed and I won't get to see my baby's face every day, or even get to kiss the cheeks of my beautiful grandson when the need arises.  I will miss hearing the sounds my grandson makes (even his gassy sounds) echoing in my home.  I will be in a constant sense of unease because I cannot protect them from life outside my home.  There is a lot of bad things happening out there and I want to keep them safe with me.  I know I did a good job raising DD, or at least I believe I did the best I can do, but everything has happened so fast it is hard to let go and let my baby fly away from the nest.

After taking a moment to walk away and think about things, I realized that nobody is truly ever ready for big changes.  Regardless of how aware we are that nothing is meant to stay forever, we never are prepared.  There is never enough time.  If we could have one more day, a week, a month, a year.... it still does not prepare us.  Sure, we can come to terms with it, but it does not make it any easier when it happens.  There will always be the need for just a little more time.  I think the same goes for just about everything in life.  Especially, when we place a value on it.

With all that in mind, I know it is necessary for DD to take the next step....  To build a life of her own with her fiance' and their son.  It still does not make it any easier for me to embrace it.  I was never ready the moment I held her in my arms.

Thanks for reading.

Fear

Fear is one thing that affects me the most these days.  Fear of the unknown, fear of judgement, fear of mistakes, fear of rejection, fear of loss.... fear.  An emotion so powerful that it causes anxiety so strong that it can paralyze a person.

Sure, fear can be something enjoyed as well.  That boost of adrenaline that gives us the option of fight or flight.  While I am not any form of an adrenaline junkie, I suppose I can see the appeal.  I seem to be more on the side of fear being a feeling best avoided.

While I make this blog entry, I am riddled with fear.  The fear of judgement races to the front of the line.  Coming along for the ride is fear of being misunderstood.  The reason for this is because people have the ability to twist words to fit to their design.  I have been a victim of my words being twisted into something entirely different than what I meant.  And with that, I am judged very harshly for it.  But today, I feel that this entry must be made.  I will face my fears and hit that publish button today.

*****

Even the most intelligent people make mistakes.  It is from those mistakes we learn the hard truth that we are not perfect.  Regardless of what others may think of us or want to believe we are.  Sure, we try to make all the right decisions and choose the correct path, but it is the fear of making mistakes in the eyes of those that expect perfection that can create a series of other fears.  Lets begin with the first fear after a mistake has been made.... fear of being misunderstood and the fear of judgement.  Mistakes start as an attempt to change or rectify a situation, but sometimes mistakes are made because our thought process gets clouded.  While we tend to believe we make sound choices at the moment, or in the moment, the reasoning may not be acceptable by another.  I'd like to say this is because opinions do come to light when it comes to attempting to understand why a person did what they did, but manage to judge instead of understand.  That is what judgement is... an opinion believed before all facts are presented.  Basically, judging the worthiness of a book solely by it's cover.  It is the fear of judgement that what was once seen as good, being seen as bad in the eyes of those we hold in high regard.

Following the fear of judgement and being misunderstood, there is the fear of rejection.  Being rejected solely upon not fitting in the parameters of what is expected.  Yes, everyone has expectations and should strive to have these demands met, but to what end?  There is zero compromise with some.  It is a black or white kind of world.  The harsh opinions that dictate right from wrong in such a vicious way that those that try to appease these people are fearful of not just judgement, but fearful of rejection.  Best example of this is found in relationships.  And the spectrum of relationships spans beyond friends and into families.

Fear of disappointment is a tricky one.  This one ties a fair amount of fears in a neat little package.  A child being fearful of disappointing a strict parent with a rigid set of views and values faces not just judgement (ridicule), but can lead to rejection (being disowned; kicked out of the family fold), as well.  Of course, we cannot forget that there is a fair amount of misunderstanding in this scenario because there are times when even the strictest of people will compromise (unwillingly) because the love between a parent and child is unconditional.  But sometimes, that fear of disappointment goes beyond the first ripple in the family spectrum.  It may not be the child's parents that they are fearing, but the extended family of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  Even friends can cause a person to step back and avoid total open honesty.  While we would like to believe that honesty is the best policy, it is the fear of the reaction to the truth that gives us pause.  The only way to know is to face the fear, tell the truth and face the consequences from your actions.  Honesty can be painful and liberating at the same time.  Is it hearing the truth that softens the blow of the magnitude of the situation?  Usually, not at first, but our character is based upon the challenges we face and how we deal.  It is taking the time to digest the facts and come to terms with the truth that makes the difference.  It also takes a person willing to make that time to do so.

The bow that wraps the box of fears is the fear of the unknown.  This is the most paralyzing fear.  The fears that preceded this one pale in comparison because we face the unknown every day.  While there are times we are immune to the risks we face every day, there are some things that come to light that cannot give the answers we seek until it happens.  And even then, there is no absolute.  Just a gateway to choices to make and hope that the choice we make is the right one.  It is faith that pushes us forward to making the next step.  The faith that everything will be okay in the end.  As we all know that faith is believing in something we cannot touch... someone we cannot touch.  As for me, I believe in God.  God means love, compassion, tolerance, acceptance, and forgiveness to all that believe in him.  He holds our fate.  He is the author of our individual story.  His son sacrificed himself for absolution of the sins of all... to be forgiven when we choose what is seen as the wrong path.  We have been given choices because God sees to it.  Yes, I have fears of what is going to happen next.  I have fears of what happens tomorrow, but I have faith that God has a plan for me.  I believe he has a plan for everyone, regardless of religious affiliation.  Even those that don't.  What I am fearful in the unknown is on this plane of existence and with the people I strive very hard to not disappoint, but have....  to try to not fail, but failed anyway...  to be understood, but not be.... to be free from judgement, but being judged regardless.  The list goes on and on, but I do wonder....  are people capable of forgiveness?  Forgiving people of their secrets when there should be none?  Forgiving people of their fears?  Because, let's be honest here... we all have secrets we are ashamed of.  Wouldn't it be so freeing to release the shame, embrace the truth and be accepted unconditionally because of it?  I'd think so, but sadly fear has a tight grip and stops people from trying.

*****

I would like to give you a little information before questions and phone calls from family (and friends) come flying at me.  Today's blog entry is about a personal crisis that I would like to keep to myself and will not be discussing it to anyone until I feel I am ready.  Writing about fears is a step in addressing my crisis and affirming my faith in order to move forward and figure out what I will be choosing to do next.  I am not needing any assistance in my journey at this moment, but when I am ready it is heard with an open mind and an open heart.  I hope you can respect my wishes and wait until I am ready to talk.  Thank you.

The death of tradition....

It is November... the precipice of the holiday season.  Thanksgiving is literally around the corner with Christmas hot on it's heels.  Then, in a blink of an eye.... it is New Years.  All those family traditions that I do my best to keep alive is dying and this year will show how dead my holiday spirit is really is.  Pretty sad to realize that my efforts have been in vain all these years, but when one person holds the holiday spirit for the whole family.... it is no surprise that this was going to happen.  Here is my story to how this happened to me.....

I have grown up with the traditions that most people have.  A house filled with family, friends, laughter, love and food.  Sometimes, decorations are involved.  Thanksgiving is known for the huge feast of Turkey and all the trimmings with no complaints of the increase on the scale or the nap that follows a full tummy.  Christmas (my most favorite time of the year), with all the decorations, the lights, the time with family, and that constant reminder of "it's the thought that counts" when you unwrap the fifth hat and scarf set.  It is that feeling of togetherness of family that rarely ever gets time to spend together.  Sure, I have no doubt that people can try to carve out a night here and there to invite family over for dinner, but with the hustle and bustle of life in general, it is hard to navigate the perfect time for everyone, thus, the appreciation of the holidays because people will make the time.  Of course, it never hurts to have a tradition to give the holiday that added something that makes it special.

Now, with a small family of my own, I have tried to keep the traditions alive.  I have made the final push to unite all family from DH's side with mine to celebrate the season, but sadly I have run out of steam to keep doing it.  You see, while I work hard to keep the traditions alive, my little family unit has no desire to participate in these traditions.  At Thanksgiving, DH takes his seat on the recliner to watch TV while I scurry about cooking and cleaning for the arrival of family to come.  While I am running like my life depends upon it, I have to ask for help and get that feeling of guilt that I will never measure up to our parents for the holidays.  DH's mom is a saint and I swear that she has forest creatures at the ready to help her to have her house be as spotless as it is, cook a delicious meal and still manage to not look completely frazzled.  While I know that my mom had her magical powers, I at least knew she had the ability to place a fire under her offspring's backside to help out.  Sure, I can ask DD for a little help, but with her work and school schedule, she needs her sleep during these holiday breaks.  Oh, who am I kidding!!  She hides in her room for a reason and that is to avoid manual labor over the holidays.  While there is plenty to be done before the actual day that family comes over.... I am left to tackle it all on my own with the added obstacle....  DD's boyfriend.  It seems that my house is the place to hang out and it is really hard to clean the house while you have your daughter and her boyfriend lounging on the couch, watching Netflix and sharing YouTube videos on their cell phones.  I was raised to never ask a guest to help with housework and it gets really hard to do much with a guest in my house almost every day!  With thinking getting ready for Thanksgiving being hard.... Christmas is even harder!!

Yep, my favorite holiday is circling the drain.  I get zero help for Christmas AND I have limitations to boot!  Back, when Christmas gift giving was the way I grew up with... everyone got a gift.  It did not matter what it was, but the feeling that someone took the time to think of you and what you like as a gift is what I can only describe as heart-warming.  I am not a materialistic person.  I do not need the newest gadget or the most expensive trinket to feel loved.  What matters to me is the thought... the effort.  With the way life is.... we tend to take for granted our feelings for one another.  We lack the ability to want to spend time together.  What my Christmas season consists is a budget and virtually no gift exchange.  When the economy crashed and things got tough for DH and I, we stopped exchanging gifts to one another and only focused on family.  Which, in turn, our families decided to only give gifts to the kids and there was an age limit on that (after you turn 18... you are now in the adult pool and no more Christmas gifts from family).  We are now down to only one child to buy for and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that the wonderment of Christmas is dying.  Then, lets add the zero assistance in the decoration department.  DH used to decorate outside, but after 3 years in a row of teenage vandalism to our outdoor decorations.... DH no longer pulls out the decorations or hangs lights on the house.  All that is left is the indoor decorations and nobody is willing to volunteer their help, let alone enjoy the effort I put in to put this stuff up.  My knees are not built to visit the crawlspace anymore and with our new 3 year old German Shepherd, Mikita, getting acclimated to his new home.... I just do not have the energy to guard a Christmas tree that will take over his favorite spot in the house.  That, and the fact that anything round is considered a "ball" and must be played with will be the death of me.  Of course, in my mind..... what good is a Christmas tree if there are no gifts underneath it?

This year, I think that the holidays are going to lack even more of the traditions luster.  I will go buy my niece her gift, wrap it, and call it a day.  I might find something small for DD so she does not feel the sting of no Christmas gifts.  DH was furious with me for the gift I got him when I tried to rejuvenate the wonderment of Christmas a few years back and I am not going to try again.  Knowing that he does not Christmas shop... I am certain that there will be nothing for me, either.  I am downsizing the Christmas tree to one that will sit on my dining room table that has battery operated lights and no ornaments and leaving all my other decorations in the crawlspace.  Holiday meals will be no different than an ordinary day and maybe I can get my family to at least go to church with me on Christmas.  I might try to bake, but why bother?  It just doesn't feel like the holidays anymore.  I am just so sorry that the years of traditions are going to die on my watch..... 

My emotional side.....

Every person is afflicted with emotions from time to time.  I, on the other hand, seem to be afflicted a bit more often, or just lets say.... a bit more than the average in strength.  I guess what I am getting at is I can easily start crying on the smallest of kind gestures.  Just hearing that someone wants to help me can set me on an emotional journey that includes a very high probability that I will "cry ugly" in front of you. 

Sure, I can blame it on the dreaded "M-word" (menopause), but I just cannot deny that my need to cry at kindness is because I rarely get kindness offered willingly to me without asking for it.  It is not like I go seeking for acceptance, recognition, appreciation or praise for what I try to do, but it is nice to have someone actually offer a tidbit of those things to me.  I am not saying that I do get the occasional "thanks" for things I do around the house, but in the manner of which it is presented to me is obviously done in such an empty way that it does not feel really genuine to me anymore.  It is kind of saying something so often that it loses its meaning after a while.  Best example is someone saying the words, "I love you".

We all love.  It is comes in varying degrees with different meanings.  Love is a difficult word to define because love is not exactly a constant thing.  We can love someone, but not like them very much.  Heck, we can love someone and in that same thought lack respect for them or even fear them.  The definition of love is a strong affection towards, but we all tend to believe that it is the highest level of like there is.  Now, with love, the definition to what allows you to feel love is as individual and different as there are people in the world.  What I am getting at is what tells you that you are loved.  If we all remember those little cartoons in the Sunday newspaper that was titled, "Love is..." with the little naked characters can tell you anything is that love means a lot of little things adding up, like, "Love is..... telling her she is pretty", or "Love is.... cooking her a meal".  While those little snippets of what love is a part of it... it does not encompass the depth of actions to feelings.  It is the actions without being asked that become those signs that you are loved.  Not all actions are seen or recognized as acts of love.

I have been married for over 20 years now, and those little snippets of what love is gets lost because it loses its value over time.  DH does say he loves me.  Every day, before leaving for work or ending a call with me... he will say, "love ya".  While I know in that aspect he loves me, it does not exactly solidify that there is any depth beyond the token phrase said to me.  Sadly, when I know he is mad at me... he manages to not say those words.  Does it hurt when that happens? It sure does, but not as much as it used to because that little act seems to have lost its value over time.  There have not really any supporting acts to support that the level of love we have is growing or evolving.  Sure, DH works hard at his job to provide for us, or that he proudly takes on the chore of vacuuming the carpets for me every week, but is that enough to show he really cares?  Especially, when I do more and get less appreciation?

When it comes to love, there is a level of want or desire and not in a sexual way.  The ability to do things because you want to and not because you were asked to.  That level of paying attention to another person and their needs is what I am getting at.  It has nothing to do with gifts.  It is about an emotional need, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a helping hand to lift you up, a desire to do something just because it is the nice thing to do.  It is known that happiness comes from within and to achieve happiness, you have to do it alone, but it is nice to make a little time to emotionally support the one you say you love.  Sadly, it has appeared that DH is not all that interested in this showing of love.  He seems perfectly happy having the blinders on and is only focused on his happiness, but I have to admit that he was always that way.  It is not his fault for being this way, but it is mine for expecting him to change.  But when he does decide to step up.....  I am in awe.  It is a very rare occurrence, but when it does.... I feel very blessed.  I just wish he would want to offer more without having me ask for it.

Another part of love is believing.  Believing in another and their abilities.  Being the one that cheers you on to try, to do, to achieve great things, but also pulls you up when you fall and reminds you that it will be alright.  When it comes to DD and DH....  I am the one that holds all the believing cards.  I have faith in my family where I should just back off and let them be, but I know that there is greatness within them.  Not too much believing is on their part, though.  I try so hard to support their dreams that I have managed to lose mine in the process.  I think that is where most of my emotional waterworks comes from these days.  I have lost my value to supporting theirs.  I cannot blame them because I tend to do that to a lot of people.  Friends, family, clients.... the list goes on.  I have devalued myself in order to give value to others that need it as much as I do.  

I am generous to a fault and it is destroying me.  Just recently, I was told that I have value... that I matter.  That there is greatness within me that I can achieve things that I have been struggling to achieve for years.  That help is willingly being offered to me to do just that.  I was told not to cry and I did the best that I could to hold the tears back.  Those tears were not in sadness, but in thankfulness that I mattered.  Then, it all came crashing to me that my emotional overflow is not just a hormone imbalance.... it is relief.  Relief that there is good in the world, relief that I am not alone, relief that I can heal.  Sure, there will be times that I will cry from pain and sadness, but there is another reason and that reason is not a bad one.  Getting in touch with my feelings is growth and from growth is possibilities.

Thanks for letting me share this with you today.  I hope you find meaning behind the emotions you are feeling.

Fact Finding Missions.....

So many opinions are out and being shoved down the the metaphorical throats of anyone remotely curious about things is so commonplace, it is darn near impossible to decipher fact from fiction these days.  I guess this blog entry is something I have been pondering for quite a while and I wonder if others feel the same way that I do.....

Recently, I have been paying a little more attention to what is affecting my personal little bubble.  There have been a few discoveries that are not all that new and shocking, but have had me wonder about them nonetheless.  With this interest in seeing information, I took it upon myself to do a little search online and as the saying goes..... "A few clicks on Google can make you go from curious to fearful.  Sites like WebMD, can make an insignificant ache or pain become something terminal.  And, if you wonder if you are doing something right, you can be told at least a dozen (if not more) ways how wrong you could possibly be."

Yep, I have been swallowed down the rabbit hole of conflicting information via the internet.....

Here is one story that managed to explode before I could reign in all the conflict in my mind.  Heck, it has taken me about 4 months to come to this point to even consider sharing this.  So, lets begin....

After making the mistake of forgetting to get my annual flu shot (yes, I am aware that in the world of percentages, the flu shot is basically considered non-essential in prevention of the flu), I became another statistic of getting the dreaded and feared illness.  Trust me, I did not enjoy the experience one bit, but the forces that be decided that I shall be slapped silly with the sickness stick, and slapped hard is what it was.  I have dealt with stomach issues that had me believe that I should be so thin that I am transparent by now.  Of course, that is not the case.  My fat cells have other plans for me.  Plans that I am not so thrilled about.

With the truth in the number on my bathroom scale, as well as how I look in the mirror... I have a very long road ahead of me.  I decided that I need to make the necessary changes.  Well, the changes have been the only constant I have managed to stick to.  I cook healthier meals for my family and for their specific health restrictions.  DH has Atrial Fibrillation and as a side.... he has cholesterol issues to deal with.  Of course, this is difficult enough to find recipe ideas for a fully grown man that has a picky eating palate of a 4 year old!  That man would live on pizza, sausages, burgers and cheese if he could.  Green vegetables are not welcome and fruit makes him run in another direction.  Anything in the realm of a salad will only consist of lettuce (which he will allow), black olives and cheese.  Salad dressings are a no-no in his world.  His constant reminder that "fish are friends and not food" from the movie Finding Nemo tells me that all forms of seafood will never pass his lips.  His list of approved foods is a lot easier to remember than this expansive list of what he will never consider trying.  Believe me, I watched him inspect the weekly grocery list as well as watch with a critical eye what is put in the shopping cart every week.  Since he is the one buying the groceries... I must comply within the limitations set before me; to make healthy meals from the approved list of foods he will eat.  Trust me.... it is really hard to find recipes that fulfill the requirements bestowed upon me.  But yet, here I am at least making a difference, albeit a small one.  What I have made so far has been a hit or miss experience, but at least what I do make tastes better than hospital food and that is saying something!

With the added stress of taking care of my family, I have developed some health issues of my own.  According to my doctor, I suffer from a silent form of GERD (acid reflux) that has me feeling quite sluggish and sick.  This form of GERD does not give a person the normal feeling of heartburn, but a sneaky set of symptoms that appear as something completely different.  Who knew that a tight feeling in my lungs with a constant need to cough is a symptom of GERD?  How about the feeling like I have something constantly caught in my throat that makes it hard to swallow?  How about feeling like you have post nasal drip with no sinus congestion?  Little did I know that these are symptoms of acid reflux and the damage it is wreaking on my esophagus.  Only took me to see the doctor to have them check me over with the added expense of getting a chest x-ray to come to the conclusion that I am suffering from GERD.  No cough suppressant will calm my coughing jags that make me dizzy and lightheaded.  No antibiotic to cure the itchiness in my chest or cure the feeling of a post nasal drip infection heading for my lungs.  Nope.  I need to change my diet, increase my activity level and avoid foods that will trigger heartburn.  Oh, and a little purple pill that slows down my stomach acid making abilities.

With the research I have started doing in my free time, I have read at least a dozen articles relating to proper eating and what is seen as a proper diet in order to lose weight.  Then, there were the additional clicks to figure an answer to the great debate over organic vs GMO.  Then, the other great debate over getting essential nutrients from foods vs adding supplements.  Then, there is the food pyramid and the expectations that gets bestowed upon us.  Then, there is the healthy weight ranges, BMI, and expectations/adjustments according to gender and age.  Of course, there is that interest in those different diets and how so many people believe one diet is better than the others with their reasons why.  That being fat is not exactly our fault, but genetics and how our world has created an obese society through convenience foods, processed foods, sugars, and artificial sweeteners.  Then, of course, we need to take into consideration that only certain exercises are effective on creating lean muscle, but according to specific body types.... not all exercises are created equal.  Is walking really better than running?  Is weight lifting really necessary to lose weight?  And the icing on the cake.... how long and how often should you be active according to what you eat.  You know that little gem, right?  That one piece of cake requires 2 hours on a treadmill to burn off or something along those lines?  To track or not to track what you eat.... is it more important to focus on calories or fat?  Or is it carbs vs sugars since both do the same thing in the end, right?  Then there is the water debate.  How much is really ideal for weight loss.... is it 8 glasses a day or is it necessary to figure the number through current weight and desired pounds to lose.  If it is the latter, then I guess food will never pass my lips, I think.  Of course, I could go and look into the juicing cleanses and smoothies debate, but lets be real here.... isn't it better to chew your nutrients than puree them?  I believe you burn more calories if you chew, but apparently our bodies are so lazy that they cannot absorb the nutrients unless we turn it into liquid form... is that right?  Heck, my latest find on the internet is that the foods we deem healthy are not really healthy at all, and need to find some obscure food I know I will never find in my grocery store, but if I wanted to go an easier route.... I could just pay for a supplement I could swallow every day for the low, low price of $69.95... no, wait.... just buy it in bulk and save $20 a bottle.  Can you see how I am getting a little confused and jaded?  I mean, the list can go on and on.  Fresh vs prepackaged is another route I have not ventured into yet.  You know the cost of getting healthy is getting up there. Shall I go to meetings that shame me into hating food that tastes good?  Or shall I have my choices taken away with some prepackaged space food that gets delivered to my door?  I can only guess why people are so freaked out these days is because there are so many compelling arguments that sway us to believe in certain things.  If I keep this up, you will find me in my closet with a tin foil hat on my head, muttering that the sky is really falling.

I guess what I am getting at is there's no right or wrong answer.  Only perceptions of what everything could be.  While I know that I won't get any thinner with the route I am taking, I am also beginning to embrace the concept that this is who I am and I need to be okay with it.  Make reasonable changes to see if it is for me and for the long haul.  I am not supposed to live forever, and no matter what I do won't change that. Do I want to look like I did in my 20's?  Sure, but if I have to lose my mind to get there???  Not so much.  Do I have to know everything?  Not really.  Ignorance is bliss and all that.  I suppose I just need to find my happy and accept that this is who I am.  If I can fix this stupid GERD and that darn tickle cough that makes me dizzy... I would be golden!

Ah.... enough for today.  Thanks for reading and maybe I will share with you again real soon.

Take care!!