How do you define family? So many people think blood determines all. Last night when I went to visit R_ in the hospital, the nurse said, "The family is in the waiting room." I look in the waiting room. Three women sit uneasily. None of them are blood family. All of them look worried. All of them love the woman being moved to ICU. I ask where the son is. "Oh he was here briefly but left." There is silence. They all know that the son will only come for money and pretend he cares. Where's the granddaughter? She's on her way. (She lives 3 hrs away. She hasn't been here for several recent hospitalizations.) A friend of mine who came with me and I sat in the waiting room until we could enter the room. I looked at these three women and thought, "They are her family. They love her. They will be here for her until she dies." It was beautiful... these women who love and it's not because they're related. They just love.
My father's wife sent an email yesterday. "Your father has been named Senior Citizen of the Year by______ County, Chamber of Commerce! He's been honored for his humanitarian efforts to improve the quality of life for so many people." (Something like that.) I thought... I should be proud. I should be excited. I feel guilty because I am not. I am jealous that he cares for strangers and not for me and my sisters. Is that terribly wrong? I really feel guilty about it. He is a good man to strangers. He will never be "Father of the Year, " or "Grandfather of the Year." He doesn't care. He is not our father. He is a man who once was my father... and that hurts.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
A Day of Life and Death
It started with a phone call late last night. A friend who had knee surgery was being transferred to another hospital because he's having heart problems. On the way to see him this morning, another call came. The woman I know with the aneurysm had her 2nd aneurysm rupture and she was headed for surgery. So off to one hospital I head. Sit with A's wife for a bit in the waiting room and as we head toward his room, he's heading down the hall to ICU. His wife just about hit the floor. So I stay with her until he is settled and hear the report from the nurse. Nothing terribly serious, but they're wanting to monitor him more closely. Sure! His wife says, the three most terrible words in the English language are, "Intensive Care Unit." They are so cute together, husband and wife. It's obvious they are madly in love with each other after 60+ years of marriage. She leans over and looks in his eye. "Remember what you promised me?" she says with hope and fear in her smile. "Yes, I remember," he smiles back, and every inch of their being is joined in longing, fear and love. They are one, and afraid that they will be torn apart. I watch and wonder how you love someone that much for that long. And I want to cry.
Once that is settled I head out of town to the neurological hospital, or whatever it's called. Get there just after they have taken my friend into surgery. Her husband is white as a sheet. He's been through this before. She was almost past the point of danger of stroke from the last rupture. Now we start counting minutes, hours, days. He sets his watch for the start of surgery and we sit and talk. Talk about the weather. Talk about the surgery. Talk about the other people camped in the waiting area. Talk about hobbies. It matters not. It's passing time. It's distracting the distracted. It's keeping hope alive. (Who am I to keep hope alive? I barely have any!) But it's not about me. It's about her and him and the love and life they share. They have no family except a stray couple of cousins. They have no children. They are each other's life. This is about to kill him. I can see it in his eyes, and the shaky hands that can't hold his coffee cup still.
Today we talk with a friend from the gun club. If you knew me you would wonder how I could possibly participate in this conversation. A pacifist who doesn't believe in owning guns, and that's all we talked about for 2 hours. I can be very good at BS when there's an emergency! I'm thinking, "These guys actually belong to the NRA! An organization I absolutely hate! These guys love their guns. They love guys who love guns. If they only knew about me, the conversation would be over!" But it's not about me. It's about love and fear of loss. It's about life and death. So I share that I used to be really good at rifle in high school. Tell me about skeet shooting? What kind of gun was that? And why do you like it the best? Pretty soon I'm almost signed up for a beginners' class along with my boys. I think, "Well hell, why not? I'm breaking all the other rules for my life. Why not skeet shooting? It would be fun to take the boys. Could I stand to hang with a bunch of NRA members?" Finally I need a break. I go outside for some sunshine and a cigarette.
When I return to the hospital a few more friends have arrived and the surgeon is talking with the husband. Surgery went well, but there was a lot more blood than expected. Her chance of stroke is high. We have to wait. We have to count the successful days until her chance of stroke is past, or she strokes out and they have to figure out how to care for her. It's a torture test. The husband is exhausted. He starts shaking again and sits down. He hasn't slept well for 2 weeks and his sentence has been extended another 2 wks, at least. And then there will be rehab. We encourage. "She's made it this far. She's done great! She'll pull through." Meanwhile everyone knows that a stroke is not like being ill with some disease or infection where being strong makes a difference. A stroke just happens. Damage happens. Strong or weak, changes nothing. But what else do you say? We pray. We stand in a circle holding hands in the waiting room, like thousands before us and pray. I can't lie and I can't believe. And so I pray, using familiar words I've said a thousand times. And somewhere in my depth I try to believe what I am saying. The thing is, no one really knows if you believe what you say in a prayer, or not. At least I hope they can't.
After 3 1/2 hrs, I'm tired and realize I need to head home to care for my children. One is volunteering on the north side of town. Two are at home and all need rides somewhere. I still have to oversee a church program tonight. I head to the valet and wait for my car. Just as I put the car in drive, my phone rings. Another friend, "You need to come see R_ right away. She's going down hill really fast and we don't think she's going to live much longer." AAAAAhhhhh!
So of course I'm one of those dreaded drivers, talking on my cell phone all the way back to town. Making arrangements for kids. Making arrangements for the program. Talking to the almost ex and trying to get him to cooperate with the kid arrangements, which of course he won't, because he is too busy working! That is, he won't help until the youngest asks for a ride to his school function tonight. Then, of course he's available! "Well, then how's he going to get home? Will there be someone to watch him there?" "Oh, I never thought of that." "Of course not," I think, but don't say out loud. So more phone calls and I have it arranged. Call the ex and tell him. He agrees, says thanks, and hangs up on me! The Shit! I am really weary!
Drive back to town. Take 2 kids to their events. Drive to the church. Say "hello." Grab some supper and head to yet another hospital. They're moving her to ICU, the family is in the waiting area. Where have I heard this before???? AAAAhhhh! It's just hard to believe a third group of people is going through such pain. I know this happens every day in the hospitals. But there's a reason I don't work in a hospital. It's not like I can fix anything. I can't prescribe. I cant' treat! Just sit and hold hands, hug, pray, talk, sit some more. Be there. that's all I can do. Prayers don't seem to change anything. They only help them feel better emotionally. I guess that's all I can do. It seems so weak, and yet so important. I don't know if it's worth a bucket of shit or not. I go in to see R___. She says, "I guess I'm dying. That's what it feels like." She said that to me a couple of weeks ago. When someone says that, you listen. People who are dying often know. They just know and they can't tell you why they know. They just do. We talk about how she feels about dying. She says, "I guess there will be angels just like there are here." I don't respond. Don't know how to respond to that. Then she cries, "There are some things I wanted to get done." "Like what?" "Well I guess the furniture doesn't matter." "No the furniture doesn't matter. Let others take care of that." She doesn't say what I know and that is that she has unfinished business with a relative. Someone she needs to contact. I let it go. Her friend talks with her and they make arrangements to take care of that tomorrow morning. Wouldn't surprise me if she's dead the day after tomorrow... once her business is done. But then again, I've known people who wanted to die for months and their bodies wouldn't give up. I hope she gets her way. I hope she finishes what she needs to do and then dies. Of course I still can't figure out what happens after we die. If it's just over. That would suck! For all our sakes I hope that's not true.
I guess that's what bothers me about this whole day. What happens next? How can I keep offering hope, when I don't know? Does it matter if I know or not? They believe what they believe. It would be nice if I didn't feel like I'm lying though. It would be nice to believe again. Was thinking today on the drive that I might actually believe in God and God giving us wisdom. Have had some major "coincidences," lately. But life after death? Hmmm.
So now I have a headache. My jaw has been clenched and my neck is stiff. It sure would be nice to come home to someone who loves me as much as the couples I've seen today. I would give anything to look into someone's eyes and feel that total love I saw this morning. I could use a lot of loving right now. Even someone to make me a cup of tea and say, "Glad you're home, dear." Sigh. Probably won't ever have that. Instead I found out my youngest went off to his school event and no one thought about his supper. At 10pm I'm making him an omelet! Poor neglected child! How did we forget that he needed supper? Damn! I'm a horrible mother! I'm taking care of everyone else except my own children! Sounds like my father who I resent so much. Damn! It's been a long day. If I can jump off this guilt trip train, I think I'll head to bed.
Tomorrow we continue the life and death of dear ones.
Once that is settled I head out of town to the neurological hospital, or whatever it's called. Get there just after they have taken my friend into surgery. Her husband is white as a sheet. He's been through this before. She was almost past the point of danger of stroke from the last rupture. Now we start counting minutes, hours, days. He sets his watch for the start of surgery and we sit and talk. Talk about the weather. Talk about the surgery. Talk about the other people camped in the waiting area. Talk about hobbies. It matters not. It's passing time. It's distracting the distracted. It's keeping hope alive. (Who am I to keep hope alive? I barely have any!) But it's not about me. It's about her and him and the love and life they share. They have no family except a stray couple of cousins. They have no children. They are each other's life. This is about to kill him. I can see it in his eyes, and the shaky hands that can't hold his coffee cup still.
Today we talk with a friend from the gun club. If you knew me you would wonder how I could possibly participate in this conversation. A pacifist who doesn't believe in owning guns, and that's all we talked about for 2 hours. I can be very good at BS when there's an emergency! I'm thinking, "These guys actually belong to the NRA! An organization I absolutely hate! These guys love their guns. They love guys who love guns. If they only knew about me, the conversation would be over!" But it's not about me. It's about love and fear of loss. It's about life and death. So I share that I used to be really good at rifle in high school. Tell me about skeet shooting? What kind of gun was that? And why do you like it the best? Pretty soon I'm almost signed up for a beginners' class along with my boys. I think, "Well hell, why not? I'm breaking all the other rules for my life. Why not skeet shooting? It would be fun to take the boys. Could I stand to hang with a bunch of NRA members?" Finally I need a break. I go outside for some sunshine and a cigarette.
When I return to the hospital a few more friends have arrived and the surgeon is talking with the husband. Surgery went well, but there was a lot more blood than expected. Her chance of stroke is high. We have to wait. We have to count the successful days until her chance of stroke is past, or she strokes out and they have to figure out how to care for her. It's a torture test. The husband is exhausted. He starts shaking again and sits down. He hasn't slept well for 2 weeks and his sentence has been extended another 2 wks, at least. And then there will be rehab. We encourage. "She's made it this far. She's done great! She'll pull through." Meanwhile everyone knows that a stroke is not like being ill with some disease or infection where being strong makes a difference. A stroke just happens. Damage happens. Strong or weak, changes nothing. But what else do you say? We pray. We stand in a circle holding hands in the waiting room, like thousands before us and pray. I can't lie and I can't believe. And so I pray, using familiar words I've said a thousand times. And somewhere in my depth I try to believe what I am saying. The thing is, no one really knows if you believe what you say in a prayer, or not. At least I hope they can't.
After 3 1/2 hrs, I'm tired and realize I need to head home to care for my children. One is volunteering on the north side of town. Two are at home and all need rides somewhere. I still have to oversee a church program tonight. I head to the valet and wait for my car. Just as I put the car in drive, my phone rings. Another friend, "You need to come see R_ right away. She's going down hill really fast and we don't think she's going to live much longer." AAAAAhhhhh!
So of course I'm one of those dreaded drivers, talking on my cell phone all the way back to town. Making arrangements for kids. Making arrangements for the program. Talking to the almost ex and trying to get him to cooperate with the kid arrangements, which of course he won't, because he is too busy working! That is, he won't help until the youngest asks for a ride to his school function tonight. Then, of course he's available! "Well, then how's he going to get home? Will there be someone to watch him there?" "Oh, I never thought of that." "Of course not," I think, but don't say out loud. So more phone calls and I have it arranged. Call the ex and tell him. He agrees, says thanks, and hangs up on me! The Shit! I am really weary!
Drive back to town. Take 2 kids to their events. Drive to the church. Say "hello." Grab some supper and head to yet another hospital. They're moving her to ICU, the family is in the waiting area. Where have I heard this before???? AAAAhhhh! It's just hard to believe a third group of people is going through such pain. I know this happens every day in the hospitals. But there's a reason I don't work in a hospital. It's not like I can fix anything. I can't prescribe. I cant' treat! Just sit and hold hands, hug, pray, talk, sit some more. Be there. that's all I can do. Prayers don't seem to change anything. They only help them feel better emotionally. I guess that's all I can do. It seems so weak, and yet so important. I don't know if it's worth a bucket of shit or not. I go in to see R___. She says, "I guess I'm dying. That's what it feels like." She said that to me a couple of weeks ago. When someone says that, you listen. People who are dying often know. They just know and they can't tell you why they know. They just do. We talk about how she feels about dying. She says, "I guess there will be angels just like there are here." I don't respond. Don't know how to respond to that. Then she cries, "There are some things I wanted to get done." "Like what?" "Well I guess the furniture doesn't matter." "No the furniture doesn't matter. Let others take care of that." She doesn't say what I know and that is that she has unfinished business with a relative. Someone she needs to contact. I let it go. Her friend talks with her and they make arrangements to take care of that tomorrow morning. Wouldn't surprise me if she's dead the day after tomorrow... once her business is done. But then again, I've known people who wanted to die for months and their bodies wouldn't give up. I hope she gets her way. I hope she finishes what she needs to do and then dies. Of course I still can't figure out what happens after we die. If it's just over. That would suck! For all our sakes I hope that's not true.
I guess that's what bothers me about this whole day. What happens next? How can I keep offering hope, when I don't know? Does it matter if I know or not? They believe what they believe. It would be nice if I didn't feel like I'm lying though. It would be nice to believe again. Was thinking today on the drive that I might actually believe in God and God giving us wisdom. Have had some major "coincidences," lately. But life after death? Hmmm.
So now I have a headache. My jaw has been clenched and my neck is stiff. It sure would be nice to come home to someone who loves me as much as the couples I've seen today. I would give anything to look into someone's eyes and feel that total love I saw this morning. I could use a lot of loving right now. Even someone to make me a cup of tea and say, "Glad you're home, dear." Sigh. Probably won't ever have that. Instead I found out my youngest went off to his school event and no one thought about his supper. At 10pm I'm making him an omelet! Poor neglected child! How did we forget that he needed supper? Damn! I'm a horrible mother! I'm taking care of everyone else except my own children! Sounds like my father who I resent so much. Damn! It's been a long day. If I can jump off this guilt trip train, I think I'll head to bed.
Tomorrow we continue the life and death of dear ones.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Progress
Well I finally have an almost complete bedroom. I have finished painting, and dressed my room with pictures and frew frew. (How in the world you spell that I have no idea!) It's so girleee that any guy who walks in will immediately puke! I've always wanted a girleeee room and now since I don't have to share with any man, I get to have it. It's almost as girlee as my teen room that was yellow and pink! It's not that puky, but it's girleeee! Blue walls with everything else white, except my 1940's vanity which I will not paint. Even managed to find some old stitcheries from my grandmother's brother's years in pre-communist China that match the room. White iron work is everywhere. My antique hat collection is out along with all those wonderful old hatboxes! And of course, just for kicks, PeeWee Herman sits on his Chairy (sp?) in a place of honor. My conservative friends would die. I should put a copy of the picture I have of the XXX theater where Paul was arrested on the wall above it. (We used to live in a neighborhood right near there. And no, we didn't live in a red light district. A quiet little neighborhood in Sarasota, FL.)
The odd thing about my room is that it's still not my room. I just don't feel at home in there even with some of my favorite things. For one thing, that single bed is killing me. I feel like I've been demoted from adult to child. There may be no one sleeping with me, but damn! A single bed! I am working on that. (The bed, not the sleeping partner, although that's not a bad idea. Kidding! Although, a little romp on a bed might be just what the doctor ordered! Kidding again! Sometimes I surprise myself with this stuff that yanks y'all's chains! Someday I may just write a total fantasy just to see who writes a comment!) Just haven't accomplished the purchase of a bed yet. Christmas for my kids just seemed a bit more important! I keep telling myself, "One step at a time." Heck, I just finished painting the room after 4 months!!! Yikes! Has it been that long? Anyway, every time I look at my bed I'm reminded of when I used to go on retreat at a nun's retreat center or my children's first beds. AAAAAAhhhhh! One step at a time. One step at a time. One step.....
It feels good to say that I've accomplished putting most of my room together. It feels good to know that I can accomplish something. It seems like ages since I have! Now if I can have a good night's sleep without nightmares and clenching my teeth, I'll be really happy!
The odd thing about my room is that it's still not my room. I just don't feel at home in there even with some of my favorite things. For one thing, that single bed is killing me. I feel like I've been demoted from adult to child. There may be no one sleeping with me, but damn! A single bed! I am working on that. (The bed, not the sleeping partner, although that's not a bad idea. Kidding! Although, a little romp on a bed might be just what the doctor ordered! Kidding again! Sometimes I surprise myself with this stuff that yanks y'all's chains! Someday I may just write a total fantasy just to see who writes a comment!) Just haven't accomplished the purchase of a bed yet. Christmas for my kids just seemed a bit more important! I keep telling myself, "One step at a time." Heck, I just finished painting the room after 4 months!!! Yikes! Has it been that long? Anyway, every time I look at my bed I'm reminded of when I used to go on retreat at a nun's retreat center or my children's first beds. AAAAAAhhhhh! One step at a time. One step at a time. One step.....
It feels good to say that I've accomplished putting most of my room together. It feels good to know that I can accomplish something. It seems like ages since I have! Now if I can have a good night's sleep without nightmares and clenching my teeth, I'll be really happy!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Ice Days
Yea! We get an ice day tomorrow! It's good to have an ice day periodically. The whole world seems to enjoy an unexpected day off! Planned days off are always so booked with expectations. Unplanned ice or snow days put the joy back in life. They rejuvenate the soul. I'm sure it's hard for those who can't stay home, but for the rest of us... I look forward to sleeping in, having a late cooked breakfast, wandering over to my computer and working a bit from home. The kids will want to go slide on the ice if they can. I think I'll bake some bread. Bought the ingredients today... just in case. Maybe we'll play cards or Yatzee while the bread rises. There's nothing like the smell of a fire in the fireplace and homemade bread in the oven! Maybe I'll finish that book I've been piecing at. Maybe I'll take a nap. Maybe we'll all watch a movie together. The options are open! I cant wait! It promises to be a very homey day tomorrow... a good day for the soul... perhaps it will be a real sabbath.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
If only
If only I could say what I want to say. If only I could ask what I want to ask. If only I could do what I want to do. If only I could be what I want to be. If only.....
But walls have ears and eyes have tears. This has been a harder week than I have known.
I have a print that says, "When I was young I told everyone I had a twin sister. One day, after we had been to see the relatives, my mother told me I was too old to play that game anymore. So I stopped talking about her and after awhile she finally went away. But I'm grown up now & I still miss her and wish she would come back."
I do have a twin sister and I don't miss her..... I do miss my soul-mate and wish...
If only life weren't so complicated, so messy, so painful...
I am lonely, are you?
But walls have ears and eyes have tears. This has been a harder week than I have known.
I have a print that says, "When I was young I told everyone I had a twin sister. One day, after we had been to see the relatives, my mother told me I was too old to play that game anymore. So I stopped talking about her and after awhile she finally went away. But I'm grown up now & I still miss her and wish she would come back."
I do have a twin sister and I don't miss her..... I do miss my soul-mate and wish...
If only life weren't so complicated, so messy, so painful...
I am lonely, are you?
Dating?
Some friends want to hook me up with their divorced friend. Hmmm. Have no idea how to respond to that! Dating? What is that? What do people do on dates now? Ahhhh! The thought terrifies me! My kids would have a fit! Don't think any of us are ready for that. I guess I need to move on with my divorce if I'm going to date. Hmmm. Definitely need to think about this for a long while. Right now, I think I hurt too much for moving forward. And yet I can't stay in the same place forever. Back and forth I go. My friends are thinking about a flight attendant who is involved in boy scouts. All sorts of negative images go with those two things! Flight attendant? gay, glorified waiter, stupid, woman in every port, good looking and knows it. Boy Scout? nerd, no social skills, not ready to grow up, conservative, weird. And of course those two images don't fit in the same person in my mind! And then I think, "What image does my profession bring to mind?" I shudder to think! A friend who does what I do had no responses to her profile on an internet dating service. As soon as men found out what she does, they shut her down. Not very promising! My cousin who wanted to date my sister said he'd go out with me if he weren't my cousin! Huh?!!!! I don't get it either. He's one of the strange relatives! As I write this, there's a whole flock of birds in my backyard, mating. At least someone is having a good time! All this thinking about dating wears me out!
Friday, January 23, 2009
Everything hurts
Damn! What a horrible day. Not enough chocolate or tea in the world! My head hurts, my heart hurts, my neck hurts, everything hurts. Who came up with the phrase, "Good grief?" There is no such thing! I hate my life!
Carole King Songs
Hey Laughing Preacher: I'm not sure which song is appropriate for the day:
You've Got a Friend..When you're down and troubled and you need some love and care, and nothin', nothin' is goin' right... Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there. To brighten up even your darkest night. You just call out my name and you know wherever I am I'll come runnin' to see you again!
Winter, spring summer or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there... you've got a friend... If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds and that old north wind begins to blow..Keep your head together and call my name out loud! Soon you'll hear me knockin' at your door. You just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come runnin', a runnin' yah yah, to see you again...
Winter, spring, summer or fall all you have to do is call and I'll be there, yes I will.
Now aint it good to know that you've got a friend when people can be so cold. They'll hurt you, yes and desert you, and take your soul if you let them. Oh but don't you let them! You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am I'll come runnin', a runnin' yah yah, to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there yes I will... you've got a friend.
You've got a friend. Aint' it good to know you've got a friend. Ain't it good to know.. ain't it good to know ain't it good to know you've got a friend yah. Now you've got a friend oh baby. You've got a friend!
Or.....
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
Tonight you're mine completely. You give your love so sweetly. Tonight the light of love is in your eyes, but will you love me tomorrow? Is this a lasting treasure, or just a moment's pleasure? Can I believe the magic of your sighs...
Will you still love me tomorrow? Tonight with words unspoken, you say that I"m the only one... but will my heart be broken... when the night meets the morning sun? I'd like to know that your love is love I can be sure of! So tell me now and I won't ask again. Will you still love me tomorrow? Will you still love me tomorrow?
Will You Still Love Me may be appropriate to keep in mind for the future and the past.
Of course Emmy Lou Harris' "Lovin' You Again, " also totally fits.
You've Got a Friend..When you're down and troubled and you need some love and care, and nothin', nothin' is goin' right... Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there. To brighten up even your darkest night. You just call out my name and you know wherever I am I'll come runnin' to see you again!
Winter, spring summer or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there... you've got a friend... If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds and that old north wind begins to blow..Keep your head together and call my name out loud! Soon you'll hear me knockin' at your door. You just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come runnin', a runnin' yah yah, to see you again...
Winter, spring, summer or fall all you have to do is call and I'll be there, yes I will.
Now aint it good to know that you've got a friend when people can be so cold. They'll hurt you, yes and desert you, and take your soul if you let them. Oh but don't you let them! You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am I'll come runnin', a runnin' yah yah, to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there yes I will... you've got a friend.
You've got a friend. Aint' it good to know you've got a friend. Ain't it good to know.. ain't it good to know ain't it good to know you've got a friend yah. Now you've got a friend oh baby. You've got a friend!
Or.....
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
Tonight you're mine completely. You give your love so sweetly. Tonight the light of love is in your eyes, but will you love me tomorrow? Is this a lasting treasure, or just a moment's pleasure? Can I believe the magic of your sighs...
Will you still love me tomorrow? Tonight with words unspoken, you say that I"m the only one... but will my heart be broken... when the night meets the morning sun? I'd like to know that your love is love I can be sure of! So tell me now and I won't ask again. Will you still love me tomorrow? Will you still love me tomorrow?
Will You Still Love Me may be appropriate to keep in mind for the future and the past.
Of course Emmy Lou Harris' "Lovin' You Again, " also totally fits.
Fucking good time
Just had the greatest time IM'ing a friend. It became a cussing contest! Damn! That felt good! He beat me, of course. Couldn't type fast enough! Hmmmm a day of Carole King, chocolate truffles, tea, and cussing! Nice addition to the repertoire! Should I get dressed? Well at least for a few minutes while I go to the store to buy more truffles. Screw work. I'm taking my day off!
Why?
Why do I do this? Why do I not protect myself? Why do I open up to lost causes? Why do I put myself in friendships that hurt me? I am an idiot! It's like I'm driven to be miserable. Wahoo! I've succeeded in that! Damn!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Grasping fog
I've always used the expression "grasping fog," to describe all attempts to define God or complicated concepts. Tonight I've discovered a new concept. My son has been playing with cornstarch mixed with water. What fun he's having! You can grab a chunk of it and it's solid, but then turns to liquid immediately in your hand, and runs through your fingers. If you punch it, it's a solid, but if you slowly put your fingers in it, it's a liquid. We saw this on the show Timewarp, and my son decided he needed to try it out. Each time I look at the boys playing in it, I think, "It's just like some relationships in my life. Always changing form." These relationships are exhausting and painful. They're like.... "cornstarch and water".... hmmm "grasping fog" is a better phrase. Of course grasping fog isn't painful. Punching cornstarch is, and then you feel stupid for feeling hurt because, "It's only a liquid." My older boys were in the garage playing catch with it. Odd process. You can shape it into a ball, and throw it. It becomes more liquid and out of shape with each toss. Splatters start going everywhere. It all gets very messy! Hmmmm again like some relationships.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Rough neighborhood!
A friend of mine in G-town had her grandfather living across town. R---- was a very little old man. He was probably about 5' and weighed about 130lbs. He was an immigrant and a small scrappy man. His house was falling down around him and he refused to have anyone else work on it. He patched holes in the floor with plywood and laid the carpet back down over it. He hoarded things, as a leftover from the depression era. He was an odd little man, but nice to most people. One time I went to visit my friend's mother who was dying from cancer at the time. R--- was in the kitchen, working on a light switch with the power lines still hot. As I walked in, sparks were flying everywhere! Now some electricians know how to do hot work, but R--- was not an electrician.
One night the police called my friend. They said that R----, the grandfather was in the psychiatric ward over in the hospital 25 miles away. She was shocked! What happened? How did he get there? The officer explained. "Last night your grandfather was out on his front lawn shooting a handgun. The neighbors called us. We know he's an old man and he seemed a bit confused, but he wouldn't put his gun down." they explained how when they arrived, R---- wouldn't listen to them. He kept talking about needing to shoot the bad guys. They explained that there were no bad guys. He said they were hiding behind his car. They explained that they were police officers and he really needed to lay his gun down. He refused. They begged. They argued. They negotiated. All to no avail. They didn't want to use force to disarm him. After about an hour, they convinced him to go inside his house to talk about it. As soon as they entered the house, R--- put the gun on the table and settled down. The police then, using some force if I remember right, convinced him that he needed to go get some help. They took him to the psychiatric unit and left him for evaluation. My friend called the hospital as soon as she got off the phone with the police. She talked to the nurse who explained that he appeared to have "sun downers syndrome." This is where a person becomes agitated each evening and stays agitated until sun up. R--- had been pacing the ward the entire night. In fact he was up around the clock for several days and nights until they found the right medication for him. When my friend talked to her grandfather, she asked, "Grandpa, why wouldn't you put your gun down? They could have shot you!" He paused...stood up straight... and said...." I did." She said, "No you didn't." He said, "Yes I did, as soon as we got in the house." "Well," she asked, "why didn't you do that outside?" He looked her square in the eye, paused for dramatic affect, and said like John Wayne, "Because a cowboy never lays his gun in the dirt."
One night the police called my friend. They said that R----, the grandfather was in the psychiatric ward over in the hospital 25 miles away. She was shocked! What happened? How did he get there? The officer explained. "Last night your grandfather was out on his front lawn shooting a handgun. The neighbors called us. We know he's an old man and he seemed a bit confused, but he wouldn't put his gun down." they explained how when they arrived, R---- wouldn't listen to them. He kept talking about needing to shoot the bad guys. They explained that there were no bad guys. He said they were hiding behind his car. They explained that they were police officers and he really needed to lay his gun down. He refused. They begged. They argued. They negotiated. All to no avail. They didn't want to use force to disarm him. After about an hour, they convinced him to go inside his house to talk about it. As soon as they entered the house, R--- put the gun on the table and settled down. The police then, using some force if I remember right, convinced him that he needed to go get some help. They took him to the psychiatric unit and left him for evaluation. My friend called the hospital as soon as she got off the phone with the police. She talked to the nurse who explained that he appeared to have "sun downers syndrome." This is where a person becomes agitated each evening and stays agitated until sun up. R--- had been pacing the ward the entire night. In fact he was up around the clock for several days and nights until they found the right medication for him. When my friend talked to her grandfather, she asked, "Grandpa, why wouldn't you put your gun down? They could have shot you!" He paused...stood up straight... and said...." I did." She said, "No you didn't." He said, "Yes I did, as soon as we got in the house." "Well," she asked, "why didn't you do that outside?" He looked her square in the eye, paused for dramatic affect, and said like John Wayne, "Because a cowboy never lays his gun in the dirt."
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Celebration
Helped lead a youth retreat this weekend. It was a good event. I was so impressed with the teens. Most of them took on their responsibilities with great dedication. They were so committed and skilled at their jobs, I could hardly believe it. It filled me up to see their effectiveness. The kids were also loads of fun. I don't think I've ever had so much fun at a youth event. We laughed and cried together. My oldest child learned all sorts of new skills at maintenance. He even learned to bite his tongue and not complain about his assignments. My middle child gave an excellent speech. He was insightful, caring, open and mesmerizing. His openness and honesty caught us all off-guard. I was incredibly proud of him. He also worked very hard at his "behind the scenes" work. He tried hard to work with some difficult kids. I just couldn't have been more proud of both my boys. People actually came up and told me how helpful and polite they were. It's good to know that the training we have given actually has sunk in.
It was an interesting event for me personally. I had to teach and speak about my faith. It felt easy and good to speak the things I have believed for so many year. It was fun to teach the kids and involve them in their learning. It felt a little like putting on an old, familiar sweatshirt. And yet I did not really "feel" what I said. It was not a "coming home" of faith. I felt disconnected from my teachings, from my faith. That was difficult. It was not depressing, just without feeling. Perhaps I am not as angry or confused. Maybe I'm just getting used to this lack of feeling, this uncertainty.
It was an interesting event for me personally. I had to teach and speak about my faith. It felt easy and good to speak the things I have believed for so many year. It was fun to teach the kids and involve them in their learning. It felt a little like putting on an old, familiar sweatshirt. And yet I did not really "feel" what I said. It was not a "coming home" of faith. I felt disconnected from my teachings, from my faith. That was difficult. It was not depressing, just without feeling. Perhaps I am not as angry or confused. Maybe I'm just getting used to this lack of feeling, this uncertainty.
New President
Yea! We have a new president! I am thrilled with the prospect of our future! How exciting to have a democrat back in office, and make history with a man of color! It's hard to believe it has taken so long for us to reach this point. It's also hard to believe how many lies have been spread and how much fear is rampant. We are a paranoid society when it comes to partisanship. Can't wait for the lies to be proven wrong.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Homework
Sitting with my son while he does his homework. We may be here for days! I just hate ADD! We've been here for two hours and only have an LA page and 1/2 a math page done. Don't know what else to do for him! This is always a trial of my patience. I guess that's how I ended up writing so much on the computer. He does one problem and comments on something in the room. I remind him to focus and he does another problem and then he talks about what I'm doing, .... on and on we go! How did children and parents survive without that diagnosis? If he weren't diagnosed, I'd be screaming and tearing my hair out by now! Instead I write, although it's hard to focus. some people say kids are way over diagnosed. Instead of questioning diagnoses, we should be questioning why so many kids have it! Probably the plastics which we just found out are so "toxic." Or the cleaners we use. Who knows? All I know is that it's totally aggravating! Can't imagine living life so unfocused! Sure wish he didn't have to struggle with it so much. He would feel much better about himself and have a lot more fun playing!
Boomer Sooner!
Here's cheering for OU! will be watching the game Thurs, for sure. Hope we don't choke!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Ongoing faith struggle
Been reading The Shack, like a million other people. I have to admit that intellectually I agree with it. It says a lot of what I say I've believed for a long time. Unfortunately, sounds "too good to be true." It's not real to me. You know how when you hear something that changes you, it kind of connects your head with your heart. Somehow the two connect and you sense the truth. It's not happening. Wish I could go back to who I was. It was so much easier! This uncertain place is vague... too unknown... too foggy. Somehow it's hard to lead when the leader is lost. How long will this last? will I ever really believe again? will I ever care? If not... then what? you must be tired of reading this. I'm tired of thinking/feeling/writing it. I'm tired of struggling. I'm tired of being scared that my card house will blow over and I'll have nothing left. I'm tired of trying to figure out all the answers. I'm tired of trying to pull rabbits out of magic hats. I'm tired of being responsible for so many people's lives. I'm tired of just getting by. I just wanted a partner in this life and I've never had one. I just want some sense that God really does care and really does have something to do with how things turn out. Not seeing it. Not feeling it.
Wahoo! Happy New Year! Every New Year I've thought, "Well maybe this one will be better than last year." They never were/are. Pollyanna has fallen out of the tree. Who cares?
Wahoo! Happy New Year! Every New Year I've thought, "Well maybe this one will be better than last year." They never were/are. Pollyanna has fallen out of the tree. Who cares?
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