Hold a grudge? Not me........

I've been struggling with something for a while now.  Let's see if any of you have a similar problem.  Years ago, about 24 years ago to be exact, somebody was very mean to me.  Flat-out rude.  In front of quite a few people - some of whom took up for me and tried to right the situation.  Thank goodness for those people, because I didn't end up thinking that the entire room hated me.  Twenty-four years?  How would that affect me still?  ......you might ask.

Here's the deal.  I imagine myself coming in contact with that person in the present.  (It could happen, although chances are it won't.)  Instead of imagining my gracious self saying "Oh, I remember you, hello!"  I scheme and pet my cat, a' la Dr. Evil, and dream up ways to tell the whole imaginary crowd that they were very mean to me in the past and don't deserve my attention now.

My heart knows, however, that such a reaction would be wrong, immature and against everything I teach and try to live.  I really don't think I have it in me to confront anyone in that way, no matter how I feel inside.  I could probably type it, from the comfort of my own home, constructing all the phrasing to show me in the best light, them in the worst.......oh wait, that sounds so familiar.

Maybe we all have a past incident that we would love to re-visit in today's time, just to show "I was right" or "You were wrong" or "Look where I am now!" I suppose it's human nature.  In reality though, we need to remain gracious and kind.  I have stalked the mean person from my past and seen them in family pictures, having fun, looking oh so nice.  I suppose I could change my heart and be my sweet self if ever a chance meeting happened again.  Thinking about payback is amusing, but in real life, I vote for being nice, all the time.

I'm a fake and a phony 1/1/14

I spend a lot of time convincing myself through words that I type that I am trying to be positive.  Convincing others that I have a healthy attitude.  Trying to find little nuggets of truth and inspiration in everyday life and prove that I'm grateful for what I still have.  Then a day or an event happens and I'm a fake.  If I said how I really feel, I'm afraid that everyone around me would quote Sandy from "Grease"; "You're a fake and a phony, and I wish I'd never laid eyes on you!".

I'm not well.  I'm still pouting.  And with all the time that goes by, I find more to pout about.  Every normal obstacle that blocks my path feels like a personal affront to my widow-hood.  The car won't start?  That's because I'm a widow.  The dog got out? That's because my husband died.  It's silly, I know, but when I go to bed alone at night, and wake up alone every morning, the void is an entity that has taken on powers of great proportion.  The void of him seems to cause every little bit of trouble I have.

And so the year ended yesterday.  All day long, I was extremely sad. Tears were close at any given moment.  I tried to explain it - the end of the year he died, entering a new year without him, an overload of people when I've gotten used to quiet, all kinds of "reasons".  The real reason?  I think my life sucks now, and outwardly I put on a brave face and list everything for which I'm grateful.  Most days, I can convince myself.  Most days, gratefulness wins.  But you know what?  It will be a long time before I don't pout anymore.  Expect that from me.  You can ask "what's wrong?".  But you can also correctly say, 90% of the time; "Oh, one of those days, huh?"  I'm going to make it.  I just don't think it's going to be a very scenic route.  My apologies, but I'm pretty sure my excuse is a good one.

I've Had Enough. (The one you have to look to find because I tell the truth) 11/5/13

I've had enough of some people.  Stop.  Just stop.  Don't tell me how to find a man.  It will be six months in a couple of days, and my heart still thinks he'll walk through the door.  There are so many things for him to do.  How am I supposed to know how to contact his Norwegian accountant, much less pay Norwegian taxes?  I can see it now - little Norway police arriving at my school, asking for me and arresting me, even though I don't have a dragon tattoo!  How much is 629 in Norwegian, anyway?

Work gets in the way.  Yes, I've said in other posts that it's my salvation, but sometimes, it feels as it I'm back in the music building.  You know, posing as a music major.  I always felt that way, because I didn't have that "Ahhhhh!" attitude about all the classical music stuff.  I would rather be out eating pizza or kissing on my boyfriend than practicing until 1 a.m.  For that I was weird?  These days, there are the 1 a.m. people in elementary school.  Okay, maybe 7 p.m.  But I don't share that desire.  That building gets me - all of me - wholeheartedly - (well, I fake that occasionally) - from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.  After that, I'm not the music teacher anymore.  I'm back to being me.  The widow.  The single mom.  The caretaker of the house/pets/accounts/vehicles/pool/you-name-it-I'm-in-charge-of-it.  When I need to locate four particular papers for the accountant, two more for the lawyer, and do a couple of hours of homework for the financial planner, I really feel as if work needs to go away.  Is there such thing as widow's leave?  There needs to be, and it needs to be the type of  leave that can be spread out for when you need it most. 

I rant here, and I want attention here.  I write because I want people to read this and understand (which you do) and give me an encouraging comment (which you do).  I am an attention hog with a blog.  Please don't hate me.  Let me down gently.  At six months of grief, that will be the only gentle thing that happens.  Life moves on, and I'm expected to move with it.  And I have.  At a limp.  If you know me, you see it.  If you don't know me, I look "so strong".  Hell, what else am I supposed to do, stay under the covers for days on end?  I wish.  I wish my personality allowed me to be a bit more of a delicate flower.  Unfortunately, I am not. I would control everything if I could.  Only if I physically can't or get absolutely shut down do I not exercise control over a situation.  Man, oh man, did death laugh at me.  I shouted at it, cried to it, and have sulked behind it for all these months.  I don't like you, death. 

I don't like a lot of things right now, and one of those things is people that "do it wrong".  Thank goodness, there are only a few of those around me, probably because I keep my shield up almost all the time.  There I go again, being positive behind a negative, because I can't group punish!  Not everybody is bad!  I just want to say, bad ones: just shut up.  I'm done with you.  I will leave the room or I will say "Not talking about that right now, thanks".  Or just: (my favorite from England) "Can't".  It must be said with a British accent, though.  And if I do that, some American might not even know what I'm saying, or might think it's naughty.

If you found this post, know that I'm done. This is hard.  I've had to learn a new way of defending myself.  Until the insensitive idiots out there can stop, maybe learn, maybe change their demeanor; or at least until they shut up......my armor is on, but I'm now armed, and I might stick it to you a time or two.  Someone should.

If I Could Return This, Please - Another View of Grief 8/2/13

I'd like to return this item, please.  A couple of months ago, I was given this device.  It works by randomly shaking up my emotions and super-intensifying the one it lands on.  I have always been fairly happy and even-tempered with the occasional flare-up of anger or sadness.  It's a smooth path in life, and quite enjoyable.  I did not give it up willingly.  This device, this "grief magnometer", has taken over my thoughts, feelings, opinions, and actions.  It's a dictator with one agenda; to keep me feeling the opposite of how I used to.

Let's talk about sadness.  I have always cried at commercials, animal stories, my own and my family's hurt feelings, and especially when tragedy happened in other families.  It rarely cut me inside with knives like the sadness from the grief magnometer.  This device knows how to read when I am performing a simple task, like putting on makeup, washing dishes, starting the car....and then it attacks.  It uses triggers that I didn't even know existed to bring on the memories, followed by the trembling lip and tears rolling from the eyes.  If I could change the setting, I would have it schedule an appropriate time for sadness and a good cry, then I could carry on with the day.  (Holly Hunter did that brilliantly in a scene from "Broadcast News", by the way.  Check it out.)

The magnometer also knows how to scare me.  I am sensible and smart.  I have made plans to live without my husband's salary.  He loved us so much, and left us in good shape for the future.  But this crazy grief-device unleashes feelings of being afraid if we happen to spend thirty-five dollars on something, or if one of the cars makes a funny noise, or I see a bit of peeling paint out on the porch.  I usually take charge and fix things - fix them myself if I can.  But this new feelings device forces me to sit, stare, shake, cry a bit, (whine a bit) and even talk of giving up.  Thank goodness for family and friends that talk me through these situations and encourage me to be my old self and handle them.  This device is just plain old mean!

Speaking of mean.....that is one word that has never really described me.  I'm sure I had my moments as a young person, but as an adult, I think that I've only been considered to be a 'nice' person.  I like to joke when a new student comes in at the middle of the school year by introducing myself and saying loudly  "......and I'm the meanest teacher here!"  Of course, all the other little ones start saying "No, you're the nicest!"  "You're not mean!"  (If you're insecure, or an attention-hog, I highly recommend being a good elementary music teacher.)  I try to ALWAYS be nice to people.  So, mean feelings surprise me.  Feeling mean is different from feeling angry.  Feeling mean is strange.  The grief magnometer sometimes likes to shake things up and make me feel mean when people are trying to help me.  Not good friends, but people that I might have to call, or have an appointment with - people that have my best interests in mind!  I sit on the phone with them, or drive to my appointment, thinking mean thoughts about them, and concocting mean things I can do to them.  Feeling this way is so unlike me.  This is the main emotion shake-up that makes me so angry.

Oh, anger!!  When I was in college, my roommate took a class called "Death and Dying".  She would share portions of what they learned - it was such a foreign concept to college kids!  They memorized the stages of grief as set forth by Elizabeth Kubler Ross.  I remember Maria telling me the stages, they were novel and interesting at the time.  I understood all of them except anger.  I mean, yes, "you can be angry that someone is gone, but aren't you more sad?" I thought.  My twenty-year-old self thought that.  My present self knows that the anger is the quickest emotion to flare in my state of grief.  Everything triggers anger, because it doesn't matter if the feeling is good or bad to start with, the anger comes around in the form of "Why aren't you here to share this beautiful thing/help me with this difficult thing?" I'm angry at fate, I'm angry at him, I'm angry at the life insurance company, I'm angry at my financial advisor, I'm angry at anyone that expresses a different opinion, I'm angry at the companies that keep sending bills, I'm angry at my fingernails for continuing to grow, I'm angry at the grocery store for not hiding that chili and those hot wings from my eyes, I'm..........angry. Very recently, I went into a yelling, screaming, cursing rage fit.  Ninety minutes later, I was so embarrassed by my own self, I was in tears.  Thank goodness family understands.  I am controlled by this grief device.  I just never know which button it's going to push on which day.

It's too bad that this grief magnometer is a final sale item.  I cannot return it.  The thing it came in to replace is permanently gone, and it is permanently here.  I think I can change some habits and surroundings and learn to live with it, but I wouldn't if I didn't have to.