Setting yourself straight

Here is the lesson I'd like to give myself today:

Watch out where you put your insecurities. Don’t burden others with them.

If Hanna asks me for something that I cannot give her whether it’s because I can’t afford it or it’s beyond my time limits or ability, I get annoyed that I have to tell her no. I feel bad because I want to give the child everything and telling her no, ever, goes against the feeling I have of wanting to give her the world.

So I say no in an irritated way.

That’s silly.

She’s a child. They ask for stuff.

I’m an adult, I have to set boundaries and limits.

My job. Her job. We have clearly defined roles. But my own insecurity about having to tell her no, annoys MYSELF and I get short and huffy with HER.

 

If people post on FB or send me texts or put pictures on instagram of themselves accomplishing an incredible physical task such as running miles, losing tons of weight, being the crossfityogaaerobicsrunningtriathaletekickboxing champion of the world….I feel annoyed.  I’m overweight. I’m out of shape. This is my own fault and this is my own insecurity. Why should I put my insecurity onto them? GOOD for that person and let them brag about it. If it was so easy, I’d be doing it too. THEY did something I HAVE NOT. They didn’t do something I CANNOT, but something I HAVE NOT. If I don’t want the annoyed/jealous feeling, I should get off my large and quivering ass and do the thing myself. But I should never say things to or about someone for doing what I haven’t just because that’s MY insecurity.

 

It’s so easy to burden others with your own insecurities. If I think about all the times I get annoyed, angry, act like a jerk, say or think mean things, I can attribute some or many of those times to my own insecurities. Even road rage. People are idiots when they drive. I can’t change that. I can’t CONTROL that. There you go. An insecurity. Not being in control (big one for a lot of people).

 

I think that if people would just take a minute, step back, take a little stock into your own mind, be rational, be HONEST, they might see that their behavior towards others is really more of a reflection of themselves and not the action of the other person.

 

But of course, don’t forget to FIND THE GRAY in this whole mess. I’d never say ALL my feelings of inadequacy are due to my own insecurities. Sometimes people really just are A-holes. I just like to sort out whether it’s me or them....or both! :)

Father's Day Fairy Tale

When I was little I loved Grimm's Fairy Tales. I always liked how there were two brothers, one handsome, one homely. Or a king with two daughters, one smart, one beautiful. I always wanted to be the smart one. The beautiful ones ended up dying at the hand of a troll or wicked hag.

I didn't understand when I was young that these fairy tales always had a moral. They weren't as obvious as Aesop's lessons and I mostly liked them for the imagery. Even if it's hokey, I'd like to have a go at writing my own fairy tale (I mean, it won't be Beedle the Bard or anything, but it will scratch an itch).

So.

There were once two brothers who liked to complain. The older  brother complained that the king's taxes were too high and he couldn't afford all the luxuries he wanted despite working hard for them. The second, younger brother moaned about life not being exciting enough, boredom and the sad lack of things to do to keep him happy.

The two brothers were walking on the outskirts of town one day, chatting about the miserable state of the kingdom. They came upon a fallen tree, and the tree spoke to them. 

"What have you to complain about?" demanded the tree.

The brothers were taken aback. 

"We have the right to complain," shouted the older brother at the tree, shaking his fist at the splay of branches spread across the path. "The king keeps too much of our wages, he shares too much with the poor, they should have to work as hard as we do!"

"There's nothing to DO in this town," cried the younger brother, sitting down next to the tree and picking at it's dying trunk. "What joy does life bring me these days? I have nothing or no one to keep me occupied!"

The tree creaked and moaned softly as it neared the end of it's life and told the two brothers this:

"I will grant you each one wish. One temporary wish. It will last for ten days. You may wish for whatever you please but be warned, ten days only. After the ten days are up, whatever you wished for will be gone, as well as anything you accumulated directly because of the wish. You will still have your memories of these ten days after they have expired, but that is all that will remain of the wish."

The two brothers were ecstatic. Only a moment passed when the older brother spoke. This brother was quick to act before thinking and regarded only the here and now.

"Riches. I want unlimited riches for ten days," he told the tree. 

"And so it shall be," the tree said to him and the older brother ran off, back toward the town.

The younger brother took much longer to decide. Despite his many complaints, the younger brother was a thoughtful man, not prone to rash decisions.  

"I'd like to have a debilitating affliction," he told the tree confidently. 

"And so it shall be," said the tree and the younger brother became blind and simple minded. 

The next ten days passed extremely well for the older brother. He spent all of his time having adventures with friends, passing the time with women, eating feasts and acquiring fine clothes and jewels. He drank spirits, made bets and slept in a bed with sheets made of the finest materials. He felt that this time was the best of his life.

The younger brother unfortunately did not have such luck. He was quite miserable for ten days. Not being able to see took a heavy toll on him but being simple minded got him into the most trouble. He injured himself constantly bumping into things, falling into the river, running into people. He was accosted by a pair of young boys who started out ridiculing him and ended up throwing rocks at him until he was unconscious. He spent a great deal of his ten days in anguish. Physical pain, frustration and hurt were ever present for the younger brother. 

As the final hour of the tenth day approached, the older brother sought out the younger brother. He had not concerned himself with his brother for ten days, and did not even know what he wished for. He found the younger brother asleep behind the tavern, bleeding and hungry. 

The older brother helped the younger brother up, cursing him for being so stupid and they traveled together back to the outskirts of town to find the tree. 

Just as they reached the tree, the final minute of the ten days ticked away. The older brother was left nearly naked, as most of his clothes were new and had been purchased with wish money. The younger brother's sight was restored and his mind returned to normal. 

The older brother strode up to the tree, shaking his fist. 

"Where are my clothes?" He demanded.

"I warned you this was temporary. Your ten days are over. What are you left with?" the tree said slowly, as he was even closer to expiring than when the brothers first met him.

The older brother made a rude gesture at the tree and turned back toward town.

The tree sighed heavily and asked the younger brother, "And you? What are you left with?"

The younger brother knelt down next to the dying tree, touched his fingers to the rough bark, a tear in his eye. He thanked the tree and told him, "Appreciation."

As years went by, the older brother only got angrier and more bitter. He tried to work even harder than before to duplicate the riches he had during his ten days, but it was never enough. It never made him happy and he spent the rest of his days cursing the tree, the king, the whole world.

The younger brother lived out his life in a state of graciousness. He marveled at sunsets, took joy in the sound of rain falling on leaves and was kind to everyone, especially those with a simple mind. Anytime something was bad or wrong, he found the good in it, appreciated that it wasn't as bad as it could have been and always found a reason to be grateful. 

The End.

And the moral of MY fairy tale is this: Without having to suffer anything debilitating, THIS is what I've learned from my dad. Be grateful. Enjoy the little things. It could always be worse. See the beauty in everything. Love you Dad!!

Mom

She finds the gray. When things are rough, she finds the silver lining. She never forgets that you're not a teenager anymore and even if you say stupid, or insensitive things, she doesn't nag, harp or belittle. She advises you in a way that makes you want to change, want to be nicer, want to be the bigger person. She explains things about life in a way that makes you less angry about things that are unfair. She replenishes your hope in yourself and in the world when your own is getting thin. She is the best listener ever and always says the right thing or sometimes nothing at all, if that is what you need. She KNOWS.

When she is in a room, it's brighter, warmer, happier. And I'm not kidding or being melodramatic (although she would say I am). She has an effect on people that makes them smile, feel better, puts them at ease. She stands up for what she believes in and doesn't let people walk all over her. Even if her hands are shaking.

She can cook a meal that will make you fall in love. She will be the first one on the dance floor and the last one to get off. She'll wrestle with a twelve year old granddaughter then kick your ass at a Racko or Boggle. She'll take you shopping when you need maternity clothes and don't have money to buy any and she'll give you a ride home, even if you are a patient who may or may not have pooped your pants in the front seat.

She'll check up on you to make sure you are handling your grief properly, but she'll quietly make sure she's handling her own as well because she knows she has to, for you. She'll drink too much on an extremely rare occasion and make you laugh so hard you pee a little. She'll donate her time to making the world a better place but she doesn't forget about time for herself because she knows that without the balance, it will all be too much.

She'll rock you to sleep and introduce you to books. She'll teach you how to sew a beanbag and to do the Electric Slide. She'll chime in when you need it and zip it when you don't. She'll take you blueberry picking and then show you how to make jam. She'll let you punch down the dough. She'll cut more bananas for the fruit salad on Christmas morning when everyone is fighting over them. She'll always send you a Valentine's day card and an Easter card, even when you live in the same house. She'll teach you about eating healthy YEARS before it becomes trendy. She'll reassure when you're being a hypochondriac, thinking you have the Rickets, and she'll make you poached eggs and let you stay home from school when you have a truly awful sinus infection.

She is amazing. She is wonderful. She is Love. I hope you know her. If you don't I'm sorry. You should try and meet her. She's the best person I know. Mama Donna. Love you.

Bit o' Random

Recently, someone gave me possibly the best compliment I have ever received. She said that she, and her fellow nurses, studied their craft in college, learned HOW to be nurses. She said, what I can do, with the pen, cannot be taught. That I have a gift. And she had a hard time getting it out because she got a little choked up. Which choked me up! I should probably include the fact that I had just given a eulogy and we were at a memorial service so we were all a bit teary and emotional.

However....

I am a writer. I write because it feels good and right and it's easy and natural. But I don't make money writing (yet??). And I'm worried because I don't technically have a job (kinda. sorta.). Once I'm finished cleaning out Ingrid's house and closing the estate, I will truly actually not have a job. And it's scary because I don't know what I want to do. I don't know what I CAN do. I know many things that I DON'T want to do and I know the only thing I CARE about doing. So I've been spending a lot of time lately analyzing myself, who I am and what would be good for me. I've come up with a lot of things but zero percent of them will help me get a job. But still. It's fun. It's rambling and random and here is a bit of it:

I wish I had a college degree. Or that I could be one of those perpetual college students that takes courses every semester just to learn more stuff. Facebook has become depressing but I still can't quit it. I know how to drive a school bus and crack open a safe. I have learned how to STFU in way more situations than I used to be able to. I am disorganized. I don't make my bed. I know how to put feelings into words that invoke more feelings. I will kick your ass at Ruzzle. I am ordained and can write some freakin' sweet wedding vows and then marry you. I wish I talked to all of my cousins more. I'd like to be a drifter. I love my house but I'm not very good at taking care of it properly. I want to know birds by their call and flowers by their petals like my Dad and uncle Jody. I wish I had one of those round bubbly black girl butts. I love round bubbly black girl butts. Sometimes I'm a fantastic cook and sometimes I destroy food horribly. I am rational. I am observant. I am an optimist. I have a horribly memory. I have poor hearing. I often think that I can't wait to tell Kate something, and then I remember.

I think Hanna is the greatest person I know. I don't like the act of waking up in the morning but once I'm awake I love the morning and I'm a morning person. I need a lot of "do nothing" time. I spend more time playing video games than I should. I think life is way simpler than most people make it out to be. I don't sweat the small stuff. I almost always remember my dreams. I am extremely impatient. Extremely. I can't sit behind a desk. I have a perfect driving record. I want to wear more dresses. I'm often self deprecating but honestly, I think I'm pretty great. I don't embarrass easily. I talk easily about poo and farts and fat. I enjoy senior citizens. I don't watch the news. I love Chip.

Now. If anyone can read between the lines and tell me what all of this means and what career path I should take, please advise. My book is finished, ready for agency. If anyone knows someone who knows someone, please advise. And finally, if you're reading this blog, share it with a friend! Or seven.
:-)

Finding the Silver Lining and a bit of Massage Therapy

Ok so two things. Both are random, have little to do with finding the gray, and one may need a mature rating.

1. I think I'm a silver liner finder. Well I know I am. I know, I know, you're all, what the hell? I thought it was gray you were looking for. Yes yes,  gray, silver, they're both extremely helpful for a healthy rational peace of mind. I ALWAYS look for the silver lining in everything. It's just an immediate reaction to every single thing that happens to me. Was I born this way? Did Mama Donna and Papa John make me this way? I think a little of both.

A few days ago I was driving down Northern Parkway when someone cut me off sharply and rudely. I slammed on my brakes and this was the very first and immediate thought that popped into my head (I Swear):

Well at least that crazy driver isn't behind me anymore.

That's the thing. The silver lining. Every single situation has one. Most situations have more than one. Yeah, I know sometimes the silver lining doesn't even come close to covering the devastation of whatever said current problem is. But if it's ingrained in you to always immediately point it out to yourself, I really believe that you are setting yourself up for a life of optimism, good health and general overall happiness. Try it. For like a week. Or even a full day if you're stubbornly negative. Force yourself to see the good, no matter how small, in every single situation or bad thing that happens in your life. Make it a habit like jogging or not smoking, which are both all the rage now and I can't get myself into either one. Let me know if you try it and how it goes :-)



2. I had a hot stone massage today (courtesy of a gift card from my Aunt Ang, OMG Aunt Ang I love you so much right now!! I mean, I always love you so much, eh... you get what I'm saying). It was a 60 minute massage at Spa on the Avenue and I think I saw Jesus. He was a short girl with brown hair and small hands named Stephanie. That shit was AWESOME!! I felt high afterwards. I was so relaxed I couldn't even keep my eyes open all the way for my manicure (oh yeah, I got my first manicure EVER with my own nails!!!). My mind wandered a lot during that 60 minutes. And I came to the conclusion that I think, I may be a bit nutty. Like, actually. Off the chain as they say. Just a little. After she placed the first hot stones along my spine and I was enjoying their warmth and heaviness, I had this thought: what if I just fling myself off of this table, sending stones flying and crouch naked in the corner swiping at her and growling a little?

Why would I have this thought? Why??? I love the hot stones. I love the massage. I LOVE Stephanie. Why do weird and situationally inappropriate things like that come into my head? Is this normal? I also wonder what it's like to get a massage for a man. It's a very sensual thing. And you're naked! Do you have to practice self control for a few days before going? Could you refuse the nakedness and wear a cup?

And that is all. No gray this time. Just silver...and the sparkly deep reddish color of my fancy fingernails.

Keep on truckin'

Death is stupid. And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the people I love, dying. But I can't stop death and I can't change death so what do I do? I'll write about it. That'll show death. Here's a blog making fun of you death, so take THAT! Hiiiyah!!

My boss died today. Ingrid. She's been my boss for eight years.But none of that sounds right. She's been my FRIEND for eight years. I started working part time for her in March of 2005 and quit my job to work full time for her last April. I knew she was going to die. Her doctor knew. Her nurses knew. Her friends knew. She didn't know. She wouldn't let herself know. She never gave up. She even passed away with a shout. I swear. Ingrid was diagnosed with ovarian cancer (oh btw cancer, I actually hate you more than death) ten years ago. She was given less than two years. Ten years later, death finally came for her.

Of course any time someone dies it's sad. Especially a dear friend. I'm getting good at death now (not something you can fill in as a skill on a job application but it does help your mental health). I think I grieved Ingrid during these past three weeks in hospice. I talked to her, held her hand, asked her to give Kate a hug for me. And now that she's gone, the emptiness I feel isn't that awful heart wrenching kind that makes you feel dazed and unsure if you are wearing underwear or if you turned of the stove. It's just the void I have knowing I won't be seeing her tomorrow. It's a sadness more for her than me because she never accepted her own mortality. And all I can do is know that she was completely pain free when she died, and surrounded by her favorite girls. Hopefully now she's saying, what the HELL is wrong with me? This place is awesome! I think that's what she's saying.

After she passed away I had a few minutes alone with her to say my last goodbye. Cass said I should talk to the ceiling since she had already left her body. So I held her hand and looked up and I told her this:

Thank you. Thank you for giving me the life that I've had for eight years. It's been wonderful. Thank you for teaching me about Germany and wars and money and fine things and birds and Lance Armstrong and the Iditarod and knitting and patience. Patience was my homeboy with you Ingrid. Because I don't care how fast you go over a speed bump, it will not burst your appendix, but sure I went point zero zero five miles per hour over them for you so as not to burst yours, as you insisted. 

And then I had to stop to laugh through my tears.

And I kissed her on the head and told her I loved her.

I don't know what will happen now. I mean clearly I have to get a job (anyone hiring? My skills include clipping toenails, opening mail and promptly verbally abusing the credit card company for charging a yearly fee, and killing the rampant ants in your kitchen because you keep spilling your gatorade while you fall asleep in your chair). But for this day, I'll drive around aimlessly, eat some ice cream and write this blog. And I'll think of you often my sweet Ingrid. Because you were absolutely one of a kind.

A letter.

I prefer words on a page as opposed to words "out the mouth". That's to say, when I'm the one doing the speaking, or, typing, shall we say. The reason is this: I'm terrible at live, real time, spoken out loud words that haven't been written down first. I want to be liked, I want to be admired, I don't want to be looked down on as a bumbling idiot. And this thought makes me nervous. So in my nervous state, I turn into a bumbling idiot. I try to make jokes to ease my poor verbal performance tension and they aren't funny. At all. Sometimes they are beyond not funny to the point of offensive.  All because I'm afraid I will come off as...well...less. And I try to make jokes about my insecurities that blow up in my face.

Here's a perfect example. I smoke. I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed because I love smoking. I know how awful it is. I KNOW. But I like it too much to stop (Although my deadline as promised to Hanna five years ago, that I'd quit during my 35th year, is fast approaching). But when I'm in a gathering of all or mostly all non smokers I feel silly smoking. But I do it anyway. And then when I come back inside filling the room of normal smelling non smokers with the stinky cigarette smell, I am self conscious. So I try to throw out a joke about lung cancer. Needless to say, it isn't funny. Or human. It's reprehensible actually. Had I written down the script of what to say after coming in from a yummy cigarette whilst feeling self conscious of the stench you bring back into the room I'd have written this: nothing. Say nothing. Because if you feel bad about the stink but not bad enough to quit, just keep your mouth shut. And this piece of advice, just keep your mouth shut, would work well for me in most social situations. But keep your fingers off the keyboard, well, that one is not for me. I think I'm good at it. I think. I'm pretty sure.

And recently someone came to me because they had something they wanted to say to someone in a letter but they didn't know how to say it. They had all this stuff inside their head and knew the points they wanted to make but didn't know how to get it on the paper. So I did it for them. We talked for a while and I took notes. Heh. Really, I did. And then I wrote the letter. I wrote fast and furious without stopping. And then when I was done, I read the letter out loud. And we both cried. It was really very good.

Lately I've been missing Kate more than usual. Well, what is usual? I think it was sparked by that Alecia Keys song, Girl on Fire. Because Kate would LOVE that song. I know it. And I tortured myself for a week listening to that song on repeat every time I was in the car, as loud as it could go. And I cried every time. And I wanted to talk to Kate. Out loud. In case she's listening. But I'm not good at out loud. So I'm writing her this letter, and when I'm done, I'll read it out loud. And I'll cry. But it will be that feel good kind. And I'll think that she probably IS listening. Hopefully.

Dear Sister,
My friend Ali died. Remember her? Of course you do, you remember everyone. I actually didn't know her as well as some of our other friends, and that makes me sad. I was wondering if you have met her there, where you two are. I think you have. I think you two are singing songs together, standing in the front row of some celestial cover band, without having to throw bows, screaming your lungs out. And you both can't stop laughing. And you're so JOYFUL you just radiate happiness. Yes, I think that's what you're doing right now. I went to her memorial service and it was....well beautiful and wonderful and sad and terrible. Of course. And there is something I wanted to tell you about it. She lost both of her parents and didn't have a spouse or boyfriend. She just had one brother, and he lives in Texas. And she had cancer, too, of course you know that already. But even though she was by familial definition sort of "alone" in this world, she wasn't alone at all. When she died, she was surrounded by her brother and these "sisters". These women who weren't related to her at all but came together to be her family when she needed one. That's what made me cry the hardest. I'm getting a little choked up right now actually. That is SOMETHING. To make a dying person such a priority in your life so they don't go alone. So they know they are loved and can see it and feel it in all those moments leading up to the big moment. They surrounded her with themselves. We did that for you and I can honestly say I think it's one of the greatest things I've done in my life. To be there with you every day until the end. But I'm your sister. Your real sister. These women weren't related to Ali at all. Some of them only knew her for like five years!! And because I was there with you and saw how much that meant and what that did for you, I KNOW what that did for Ali. To have her Dean and to have her "sisters" there during that time. It's so wonderful that my heart feels full and aching and joyful and sad all at the same time. So my message to you is that I love you and I miss you and I know you're experiencing a peace beyond my comprehension. And when you see Ali, tell her this: I'm sorry I wasn't closer to her while she was here but I think she didn't need me anyway. She had the best sisters anyone could ask for.
xoxo
Love,
Sara