Why the daffodil? You know the daffodil in my profile picture? They are one of my favorite flowers. When we lived in England, we had this sprawling house on an enormous yard with trees, landscaping, grapevines, a full row of apple and pear trees.......and daffodil bulbs hidden all under the grass of the front yard. Every year, when the grey skies would finally lift a bit and spring would give us a warm day or two, my front 'garden' was a sea of yellow daffodils. I had never had them in any of my yards or gardens before that, so I was thrilled at their beauty and the ease with which the re-appeared every year.
Last year, I bought a bag of daffodil bulbs on a whim at Home Depot. I had cleaned some pesky plants from around one of my pine trees in the back yard, leaving a small bed that was begging for some prettiness. The bag sat on the back porch for a few weeks until I finally got up and dug holes to plant them. I surrounded my tree with daffodil bulbs, then had enough left over to line the edge of the flower bed up front. I crossed my fingers for them and forgot about them.
Well, I didn't totally forget. I went out back to the tree every few days, looking for signs of life from underground. Sure enough, little green blades eventually forced themselves through the hard-packed dirt, and grew a little taller day by day. Eventually, one of the blades had a lump at the top - a lump destined to be a flower. In the time between planting those bulbs and seeing the possibility of a flower, we had some freezing weather, some very warm weather, stretches of no rain, suddenly too much rain - everything but snow and ice. Not last year. The leaves didn't care. They grew taller and taller, until I predicted: "My daffodils will bloom by Easter, I can tell!" I was very excited. Bloom they did, and I took a little time out for a photo session. The flower in the picture is indeed one of MY daffodils. I only brought a few inside to a vase. I left them to put a smile on the yard. It wasn't a sea, but it was a happy spot. By the time they were gone, so was Scott.
The brown leaves wither away and you forget the bulbs are under the dirt. They've been under there for almost a year, waiting, preparing, letting nature guide them as to when those leaves should start their journey again. They've endured extreme heat, flooding rains, freezing temperatures, sleet, and numerous critters, domesticated and not. They just know they are supposed to stay right there underground until nature says rebirth must happen.
The experience of the daffodil bulb (MY daffodils) is similar to the walk of grief. I have endured paperwork, meetings, making huge decisions, breaking down, working in spite of all, and trying to be wise for a future that could maybe ever be happy again. I'm getting there. It's as natural as the daffodil leaves that I laugh a little more again. That lady carrying five copies of a court document out of Office Depot? That was me. It's moving along as nature intended that probate court is finished and I must fill out more applications, file more paperwork....but it's leading somewhere. About a week ago, I noticed the tips of the leaves peeking out of the ground. The flowers will be back this year. Nature has said "it's time", even though there was a freeze last week and another predicted for next week. They know how to time it. And they are strong. They are hardy. A beautiful flower that spreads joy for a season, then bends its head to go away and prepare to be reborn the next year.......that is "why the daffodil".
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Friday, January 17, 2014
Gilbert O'Sullivan Said It Best 1/17/14
Gilbert O'Sullivan Said It Best. You know, that horribly sad song about being alone. "Alone Again, Naturally". (Thank you, Mom, for listening to cool music on WLCY when we were little.).That one could make me bawl out loud on a great day, when no heartache had ever touched me. The narrative of the mother losing the father, and she "couldn't understand why the only man she had ever loved had been taken....." Yes, that song says it best. Haven't heard it in a while? Here ya go:
Gilbert O'Sullivan - Alone Again, Naturally
I wanted to write about other songs with phrases that make the tears flow. "Can I handle the seasons of my life?" (Landslide). "Whenever I see your smiling face, I have to smile myself, 'cause I love you..." (James Taylor). But it's been too rough of a week, and I'm facing so many challenges right now - yes, right now, 8 1/2 months later - that I'm really proud if I remember to give the animals their food, because they need that to live. I can't think of those songs.
The problem is: I like to be perfect. He enabled me to be perfect, because he was behind the scenes making everything perfect. I'm trying now, good Lord, I'm trying. It's not happening. Everyone - that smiley me that you see every day? That smart-aleck person that posts silly stuff? That's not me. That's the fake me. The fake me HAS to exist, because I couldn't do life if she didn't. I hope I'm so good at being fake that the little children don't know. If you adults suspect, I'm fine with that. Speak up. Tell me again that I'll make it, I"m strong.....I need your encouragement. That's a really difficult admission for someone that has made a career of looking people (sometimes very young people) in the eye and saying "You can DO it!!" Many, many of them DID do it, in whatever way, and I'm so proud. I think I have a legacy out there.
I'll smile again on Tuesday. And if you smile with me, and tell me it's okay not to be perfect, thank you. I'm alone, but I'm not deserted.
Gilbert O'Sullivan - Alone Again, Naturally
I wanted to write about other songs with phrases that make the tears flow. "Can I handle the seasons of my life?" (Landslide). "Whenever I see your smiling face, I have to smile myself, 'cause I love you..." (James Taylor). But it's been too rough of a week, and I'm facing so many challenges right now - yes, right now, 8 1/2 months later - that I'm really proud if I remember to give the animals their food, because they need that to live. I can't think of those songs.
The problem is: I like to be perfect. He enabled me to be perfect, because he was behind the scenes making everything perfect. I'm trying now, good Lord, I'm trying. It's not happening. Everyone - that smiley me that you see every day? That smart-aleck person that posts silly stuff? That's not me. That's the fake me. The fake me HAS to exist, because I couldn't do life if she didn't. I hope I'm so good at being fake that the little children don't know. If you adults suspect, I'm fine with that. Speak up. Tell me again that I'll make it, I"m strong.....I need your encouragement. That's a really difficult admission for someone that has made a career of looking people (sometimes very young people) in the eye and saying "You can DO it!!" Many, many of them DID do it, in whatever way, and I'm so proud. I think I have a legacy out there.
I'll smile again on Tuesday. And if you smile with me, and tell me it's okay not to be perfect, thank you. I'm alone, but I'm not deserted.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
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'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.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
The True Story Behind "Thank God For Makeup". 10/1/13
I cried myself to sleep last night. I felt sad from the moment I left school after the little show. I had been named employee of the week, the choir did well on Saturday, and last night I had directed a successful, cute little show. My district boss thought that the little show idea was great, and praised it. What could have been sad about a day like that? (Besides the obvious, that is...) I wanted to share it. I wanted to tell him. I didn't want to text this person or call that person, I wanted to flop down in my recliner, beside his recliner, and tell him about the day and the evening.
I tried telling the dogs. They don't speak English. They also don't actually take the time to process whether what you are telling them is an accomplishment or a shameful moment, they just jump on the love bandwagon, tails wagging away. I didn't even try telling the cats, their level of 'don't care' surpasses the dog's love.
So I cried. I thought of calling or messaging many people. They're all there for me. The overwhelming thought I had? I will make them sad. I mean, there's no sense in making another person sad on a boring Monday night, right? So if you are one of my people, and you are thinking "I wish she had called me!" I would have, and I thought about it. But because I didn't, you didn't go to sleep sad.
Instead, I cried, slept a couple of hours, woke up, checked the phone, cried a little more, the got rudely awakened by the morning alarm. Going through the morning routine is a bit of a consolation. Another day has arrived, it's time to look it in the face. I put on my makeup, and the song "Tears of a Clown" kept running the my mind. I know, it's about a breakup, most songs are. But I started thinking about how I look with my makeup fresh in the morning. It enhances the 'real me'. No, it doesn't hide every scar and wrinkle...but it helps. It opens my eyes. It enriches my eyebrows and lips. It actually kind of.....magnifies the real me. (Good or bad....) With my makeup, I can still pretend for a bit that I'm in my forties, haha. I also have a feeling, whether it's true or not, that my makeup hides my sadness. When the mascara goes on, my eyes have their happy crinkle. (Crinkle with some wrinkles.) That can disguise the fact that I went to sleep crying because I felt so all alone. Please don't tell me if that's not true. Please allow me this small deception that helps me face each day.
After the makeup application this morning, I felt better. I also wanted to put a cute status on my favorite social networking site. "Cried myself to sleep last night but am much better this morning" did not win. Neither did "Had really cool stuff happen yesterday, but nobody to tell". Or there could have been "Aren't you glad I didn't call and make you sad last night?". Instead, I started thinking about my beautiful makeup job (the song was still there......"my smile is the makeup I wear since my breakup with youuuuuuuuu.......) and I simply wrote "Thank God for makeup". Take it as you will.
The real healing comes when I can finally have an hour or so to sit down and pour this all out through typing fingers. I think that it because I know that nobody HAS to read it, like you would have to answer the phone. You can not read it at all, stop half-way....your choice, just like writing it is my choice. I'm a bit addicted to the writing right now, but it and the makeup serve good purposes for someone in my position. They cover, yet magnify the real thing. Thank you so much for listening, I hope you're not too sad now. If you are, try some new eye-shadow.
I tried telling the dogs. They don't speak English. They also don't actually take the time to process whether what you are telling them is an accomplishment or a shameful moment, they just jump on the love bandwagon, tails wagging away. I didn't even try telling the cats, their level of 'don't care' surpasses the dog's love.
So I cried. I thought of calling or messaging many people. They're all there for me. The overwhelming thought I had? I will make them sad. I mean, there's no sense in making another person sad on a boring Monday night, right? So if you are one of my people, and you are thinking "I wish she had called me!" I would have, and I thought about it. But because I didn't, you didn't go to sleep sad.
Instead, I cried, slept a couple of hours, woke up, checked the phone, cried a little more, the got rudely awakened by the morning alarm. Going through the morning routine is a bit of a consolation. Another day has arrived, it's time to look it in the face. I put on my makeup, and the song "Tears of a Clown" kept running the my mind. I know, it's about a breakup, most songs are. But I started thinking about how I look with my makeup fresh in the morning. It enhances the 'real me'. No, it doesn't hide every scar and wrinkle...but it helps. It opens my eyes. It enriches my eyebrows and lips. It actually kind of.....magnifies the real me. (Good or bad....) With my makeup, I can still pretend for a bit that I'm in my forties, haha. I also have a feeling, whether it's true or not, that my makeup hides my sadness. When the mascara goes on, my eyes have their happy crinkle. (Crinkle with some wrinkles.) That can disguise the fact that I went to sleep crying because I felt so all alone. Please don't tell me if that's not true. Please allow me this small deception that helps me face each day.
After the makeup application this morning, I felt better. I also wanted to put a cute status on my favorite social networking site. "Cried myself to sleep last night but am much better this morning" did not win. Neither did "Had really cool stuff happen yesterday, but nobody to tell". Or there could have been "Aren't you glad I didn't call and make you sad last night?". Instead, I started thinking about my beautiful makeup job (the song was still there......"my smile is the makeup I wear since my breakup with youuuuuuuuu.......) and I simply wrote "Thank God for makeup". Take it as you will.
The real healing comes when I can finally have an hour or so to sit down and pour this all out through typing fingers. I think that it because I know that nobody HAS to read it, like you would have to answer the phone. You can not read it at all, stop half-way....your choice, just like writing it is my choice. I'm a bit addicted to the writing right now, but it and the makeup serve good purposes for someone in my position. They cover, yet magnify the real thing. Thank you so much for listening, I hope you're not too sad now. If you are, try some new eye-shadow.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
The Next Section of Road 9/29/13
The weather is changing. October will be here in a couple of days. The kids at school will get to sing "October, Rocktober"! The choir will scurry to learn all the holiday songs that they must know for concerts at the beginning of November. Another group of second graders will do the cutie-pie Turkey Follies show. The fourth graders will start work on their Holiday show. I'll be busy. But I'm scared that busy won't be enough.
I used to be so excited when October first arrived. It meant my birthday was only twenty-three days away, then Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas!! Zoom, the holiday season started rolling on October first and never stopped. That's why I'm scared. The beginning of Autumn through the chill of Christmas and the New Year is one long holiday. Yes, certain dates are on the calendar for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's day....but all of us, commercial entities and families, take this season to celebrate. Non-stop. Food. Decorations. Parties. Cards. Gifts. Travel. Family. Costumes. Even pet costumes, if you are in my family. I'm scared that every single day between October first and the back-to-school time in January is going to be a very difficult section of the journey.
The few cooler days that suggest Autumn in the deep South are invigorating. "The high today is only going to be eighty-eight!!" You hear it all around. Everyone switches from cool clothes in summer colors to cool clothes in Fall colors. Any Autumn weekend where people wake up to cooler temps for a few hours of the day finds them running off to the farmer's market or an Oktoberfest in some community. We grab at any hint of a break from the heat and call it Autumn. Never mind how much you're going to sweat at that festival or game. Fall has arrived! I always felt the excitement just like everyone else. But I'm starting to understand why holidays are huge mountains to be scaled on the road of grief.
I'm trying to prepare my mind and emotions. That's what I do, that's how I've been handling things. I remind myself that certain days/occasions/tasks are going to be more difficult. I then carry on through those things by allowing the memories and thoughts, giving them a minute and trying to move on. I carry tissues in case I don't move on too quickly. I surround myself with people. I go different places. I have started to do different things when home alone. He used to have the television on during every waking hour. I choose music. I'm kind of tweaking life to sidestep sadness. I don't think it's a cop out, because the sadness still gets in there a lot of the time.
I also have a lot of help in handling things. My beloved girls will be home for the holidays, and they are the best medicine for anything, as well as the ones that share my feelings. Besides being a good friend, Meiling is the one that checks on me daily and watches for any sign that I need time, an ear, a shoulder, or Mexican food. Thank you my friend for being such a good "keeper" to me and my zoo, that's why my mom won't let you move away. Other friends, at work and far away, call and message all the time. That is still important. I love it. Family is forever there. Mom is always there. Thank you. And how precious is it that nephew Zach is flying in for Thanksgiving week? Just the right tweak can make anticipation not completely sad.
In spite of all the help, I still must travel the holiday season part of the road. I have read suggestions "just skip Christmas", "celebrate at a hotel", "light a candle for memory".....many ways that people in the same situation have chosen to travel their difficult stretch of the road. But will any of that change my feelings and memories? How will I not think, on my birthday, of him giving me the beautiful diamond band last year, and saying "Well, you are fifty, after all."? How will I not think of him not being here most Thanksgivings, but always getting the turkey leg when he was? How will I not remember how proud he was of the custom-sized nylon straps he made at the office and brought home to hold the Christmas tree box closed? We had a life together for twenty-eight years. It's impossible not to think!
I will allow the memories. I will try to move on. If I can't, I will cry for a while, then move on. I will appreciate all the family and friends that are there for me. After the holidays are over, I'll probably go on that site and write my own suggestions for 'surviving the first holiday season without a loved one'. But I will know that every road has different obstacles. I'm just preparing for mine. Since October arrives in two days, I have to put on my helmet and hold on to the rails. Walk with me, cheer me on, give me a cup of water.....the trek has begun.
I used to be so excited when October first arrived. It meant my birthday was only twenty-three days away, then Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas!! Zoom, the holiday season started rolling on October first and never stopped. That's why I'm scared. The beginning of Autumn through the chill of Christmas and the New Year is one long holiday. Yes, certain dates are on the calendar for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's day....but all of us, commercial entities and families, take this season to celebrate. Non-stop. Food. Decorations. Parties. Cards. Gifts. Travel. Family. Costumes. Even pet costumes, if you are in my family. I'm scared that every single day between October first and the back-to-school time in January is going to be a very difficult section of the journey.
The few cooler days that suggest Autumn in the deep South are invigorating. "The high today is only going to be eighty-eight!!" You hear it all around. Everyone switches from cool clothes in summer colors to cool clothes in Fall colors. Any Autumn weekend where people wake up to cooler temps for a few hours of the day finds them running off to the farmer's market or an Oktoberfest in some community. We grab at any hint of a break from the heat and call it Autumn. Never mind how much you're going to sweat at that festival or game. Fall has arrived! I always felt the excitement just like everyone else. But I'm starting to understand why holidays are huge mountains to be scaled on the road of grief.
I'm trying to prepare my mind and emotions. That's what I do, that's how I've been handling things. I remind myself that certain days/occasions/tasks are going to be more difficult. I then carry on through those things by allowing the memories and thoughts, giving them a minute and trying to move on. I carry tissues in case I don't move on too quickly. I surround myself with people. I go different places. I have started to do different things when home alone. He used to have the television on during every waking hour. I choose music. I'm kind of tweaking life to sidestep sadness. I don't think it's a cop out, because the sadness still gets in there a lot of the time.
I also have a lot of help in handling things. My beloved girls will be home for the holidays, and they are the best medicine for anything, as well as the ones that share my feelings. Besides being a good friend, Meiling is the one that checks on me daily and watches for any sign that I need time, an ear, a shoulder, or Mexican food. Thank you my friend for being such a good "keeper" to me and my zoo, that's why my mom won't let you move away. Other friends, at work and far away, call and message all the time. That is still important. I love it. Family is forever there. Mom is always there. Thank you. And how precious is it that nephew Zach is flying in for Thanksgiving week? Just the right tweak can make anticipation not completely sad.
In spite of all the help, I still must travel the holiday season part of the road. I have read suggestions "just skip Christmas", "celebrate at a hotel", "light a candle for memory".....many ways that people in the same situation have chosen to travel their difficult stretch of the road. But will any of that change my feelings and memories? How will I not think, on my birthday, of him giving me the beautiful diamond band last year, and saying "Well, you are fifty, after all."? How will I not think of him not being here most Thanksgivings, but always getting the turkey leg when he was? How will I not remember how proud he was of the custom-sized nylon straps he made at the office and brought home to hold the Christmas tree box closed? We had a life together for twenty-eight years. It's impossible not to think!
I will allow the memories. I will try to move on. If I can't, I will cry for a while, then move on. I will appreciate all the family and friends that are there for me. After the holidays are over, I'll probably go on that site and write my own suggestions for 'surviving the first holiday season without a loved one'. But I will know that every road has different obstacles. I'm just preparing for mine. Since October arrives in two days, I have to put on my helmet and hold on to the rails. Walk with me, cheer me on, give me a cup of water.....the trek has begun.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Adam Levine is pretty - but just let me look at the sky occasionally 9/21/13
*to Ramona, Christina, Tricia, Meiling and mostly Cathi - thanks for the fun!!
It was a beautiful Thursday night for an outdoor concert. The rain had cleared and brought the temperature down! The crowd was immense. I think every woman and half the men in Houston came out to breathe the same air as Adam Levine. Maroon 5 is a good band. But their front man - he sells more than music. Those magazine covers, shirtless. The always-stylish hair, tattoos, tight clothes. He plays the part of "rock god" to the hilt. Oh yeah, and he can sing.
I got invited by a very sweet friend to go along with a few other ladies. I love concerts, and just by inviting me, she gave me a "thing" to look forward to that could take the place of the other wanderings my mind does these days. Kelly Clarkson and Maroon 5! Big talent! Fun friends! Laughing! Oh yeah - I laugh a lot. Sad people can laugh, too. Things don't stop being funny just because you're sad about something. Sometimes I lead with laughter. Other times, I simply smile because no laughter is inside me. I try to do what looks "normal", even though I'm not normal....yet.
Kelly Clarkson sings a lot of songs about losing boyfriends. I never realized how songs about losing a boyfriend could have so many lyrics that closely mirrored losing a spouse. Never mind "What Doesn't Kill You".... I was still getting my dinner (nachos, yum.....we bluffed our way into the VIP line so we didn't have to wait as long), so that one didn't really reach me. But then there was "Because of You", and "My Life Would Suck Without You". (Of course, my mind changed the second title to "My Life Does Suck Without You.") I sat, listened, and just looked up at the sky when the waves of sadness came. The clouds were beautiful. The moon was to our left. Only two or three stars were visible, sometimes even those ducking behind the clouds. I looked for a bit, then it would pass. Silly songs, silly lyrics, silly middle-aged lady taking them to heart.
After Kelly, the headliners were on stage. I had personally forgotten how many hits they've had over the years - songs that passed through my eardrums into my brain during the time that daughters ruled the car radio. (In my humble opinion, there is still good music being written and recorded today. You just need to look a little harder for it. The fun part about a blog is that it can be my soapbox if I want, it's my blog!) So, back to Adam Levine. I got the general impression that about 80% of the women in the audience would have left the place with him - as well as about 10% of the men. Even all the happily married women would have at least wanted to.....introduce the husband? Have coffee? Show him pics of the kids? He's very magnetic, and a huge cross-section of America wants to adopt him, for one reason or another. The other percentage of the audience were huge fans of the music - like the short, chubby dancing man in front of us. I appreciate and understand the craze about Mr. Levine.....but I felt as if everyone was in a museum with me, going crazy over the impressionists. While I thought they were pretty, I wanted to wander down the hall and look at the Old Masters. I texted my girls at college: "Good concert. Adam Levine is pretty". (Adam, if you read this, Maddy says she's single.)
I am actually writing about this to work through why I feel that I would rather meet Jagger than "Moves Like Jagger". Is it my age? I'm sure that's a big part. But most of all, I just know that I'm still having to look at the sky way too often. I probably don't want to meet Jagger, either. I try to hide it still. On any day, if I seem together and happy and secure - I've probably gotten more bad news. Anymore when bad news comes my way, I seem to deflect it as if I'm wearing some sort of armor.
Is the fact that I don't react immediately, sadly, uncontrollably, falling-apart-to-broken due to strength? No. I've heard that one a lot - "You are so strong." Meant as a compliment, I hope, to tell me that you admire the fact that I'm not in a fetal position on the floor, screaming. But it's not strength that keeps me going. There's nothing strong about sighing while I get ready for work, because the house is so empty. There's nothing strong about hiding behind my smart board to wipe away tears because my choir just broke into "Keep Your Head Up". There's nothing strong about going to an awesome concert with friends and laughing a lot about family, work and life. That's just living. Others may or may not notice when I look at the sky - I don't do it to be noticed, so it's ok if you don't. I just know that it's a measure of how often I have to re-gather myself to continue being normal. So I listen to Kelly Clarkson's amazing voice, appreciate her songs and the honest, funny way she talks to the audience, and I just stop and look at the sky when I have to. And I watch and listen to Adam Levine and Maroon 5, and look at the sky when I have to. After a few thoughts, a few breaths, I look back at the stage, or if I really need to cheer up, the short chubby dancing man. It was a good night, friends. Thank you.
It was a beautiful Thursday night for an outdoor concert. The rain had cleared and brought the temperature down! The crowd was immense. I think every woman and half the men in Houston came out to breathe the same air as Adam Levine. Maroon 5 is a good band. But their front man - he sells more than music. Those magazine covers, shirtless. The always-stylish hair, tattoos, tight clothes. He plays the part of "rock god" to the hilt. Oh yeah, and he can sing.
I got invited by a very sweet friend to go along with a few other ladies. I love concerts, and just by inviting me, she gave me a "thing" to look forward to that could take the place of the other wanderings my mind does these days. Kelly Clarkson and Maroon 5! Big talent! Fun friends! Laughing! Oh yeah - I laugh a lot. Sad people can laugh, too. Things don't stop being funny just because you're sad about something. Sometimes I lead with laughter. Other times, I simply smile because no laughter is inside me. I try to do what looks "normal", even though I'm not normal....yet.
Kelly Clarkson sings a lot of songs about losing boyfriends. I never realized how songs about losing a boyfriend could have so many lyrics that closely mirrored losing a spouse. Never mind "What Doesn't Kill You".... I was still getting my dinner (nachos, yum.....we bluffed our way into the VIP line so we didn't have to wait as long), so that one didn't really reach me. But then there was "Because of You", and "My Life Would Suck Without You". (Of course, my mind changed the second title to "My Life Does Suck Without You.") I sat, listened, and just looked up at the sky when the waves of sadness came. The clouds were beautiful. The moon was to our left. Only two or three stars were visible, sometimes even those ducking behind the clouds. I looked for a bit, then it would pass. Silly songs, silly lyrics, silly middle-aged lady taking them to heart.
After Kelly, the headliners were on stage. I had personally forgotten how many hits they've had over the years - songs that passed through my eardrums into my brain during the time that daughters ruled the car radio. (In my humble opinion, there is still good music being written and recorded today. You just need to look a little harder for it. The fun part about a blog is that it can be my soapbox if I want, it's my blog!) So, back to Adam Levine. I got the general impression that about 80% of the women in the audience would have left the place with him - as well as about 10% of the men. Even all the happily married women would have at least wanted to.....introduce the husband? Have coffee? Show him pics of the kids? He's very magnetic, and a huge cross-section of America wants to adopt him, for one reason or another. The other percentage of the audience were huge fans of the music - like the short, chubby dancing man in front of us. I appreciate and understand the craze about Mr. Levine.....but I felt as if everyone was in a museum with me, going crazy over the impressionists. While I thought they were pretty, I wanted to wander down the hall and look at the Old Masters. I texted my girls at college: "Good concert. Adam Levine is pretty". (Adam, if you read this, Maddy says she's single.)
I am actually writing about this to work through why I feel that I would rather meet Jagger than "Moves Like Jagger". Is it my age? I'm sure that's a big part. But most of all, I just know that I'm still having to look at the sky way too often. I probably don't want to meet Jagger, either. I try to hide it still. On any day, if I seem together and happy and secure - I've probably gotten more bad news. Anymore when bad news comes my way, I seem to deflect it as if I'm wearing some sort of armor.
Is the fact that I don't react immediately, sadly, uncontrollably, falling-apart-to-broken due to strength? No. I've heard that one a lot - "You are so strong." Meant as a compliment, I hope, to tell me that you admire the fact that I'm not in a fetal position on the floor, screaming. But it's not strength that keeps me going. There's nothing strong about sighing while I get ready for work, because the house is so empty. There's nothing strong about hiding behind my smart board to wipe away tears because my choir just broke into "Keep Your Head Up". There's nothing strong about going to an awesome concert with friends and laughing a lot about family, work and life. That's just living. Others may or may not notice when I look at the sky - I don't do it to be noticed, so it's ok if you don't. I just know that it's a measure of how often I have to re-gather myself to continue being normal. So I listen to Kelly Clarkson's amazing voice, appreciate her songs and the honest, funny way she talks to the audience, and I just stop and look at the sky when I have to. And I watch and listen to Adam Levine and Maroon 5, and look at the sky when I have to. After a few thoughts, a few breaths, I look back at the stage, or if I really need to cheer up, the short chubby dancing man. It was a good night, friends. Thank you.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Scary Movies Aren't As Scary As Life 9/15/13
I just saw "Insidious, Chapter 2". If you know me, this is not surprising, you know that I love scary movies. When I saw the original "Insidious", I proclaimed it one of the best scary movies I'd seen in a long time. I even bought the DVD, which is not a habit of mine, as it is with some people. Today, I enjoyed the sequel, but not as much as the first. Is this because it's not quite as good, or because of my reality?
Scary movies want to make us afraid of ghosts, 'spirits', beings that are stuck in the afterlife because of some evil reason or another. I happen to know that there is no such thing, and what is left behind is much more difficult to manage simply because we are left alone to handle things.
I sit writing this with a box fan blowing into my 'office', because the air conditioner needs repair. It's leaking Freon in the attic portion, so they have to replace all those workings. I have reserved the pretty penny that it will cost, scheduled the work and requested my day off. These are all the responsibilities of the sole adult that owns the house. In one scene of the movie today, the ghost punched the woman in the face. I might have preferred that horror to the stress and cost of getting the a/c repaired.
This past Friday, I sold the dirt bike that he had left sitting in the garage. I knew what he had paid for it, and ended up taking a bit less, just to get rid of it. I didn't envision him sitting on it, or trying to start it - like the movie with its visions of a person long gone sitting on the bed. I just saw the bike, the space it's been taking up in the garage, the hope I had that it would start for the potential buyers after four months, and the dust and cobwebs that clung to it. Start it finally did, and after the exchange of cash, the bike was theirs. Of course, I typed out a receipt, one for them, one for me, because I could hear him saying "Make sure you give a receipt, I've see too many 'People's Court' episodes where stupid people didn't get anything in writing....." All right, I didn't envision anything, but boy, could I hear his words in my brain. That's not scary, though. That is comforting.
I am one person at home now - with three cars to choose from. I do intend to sell them and upgrade to something newer, and therefore (in theory) more dependable. One needs a new water pump, knock sensor, and catalytic converter. One just got a new water pump, but has a funny clank that I can't get it to make for the mechanic. The third is in decent shape, it's just ten years old! Now, I'll admit, we've been very spoiled as far a vehicles go - Scott could fix almost anything, therefore we got older, but more top-of the-line when we purchased. Having to sell and buy cars by myself is more of a nightmare than seeing a shadow face in the window. That's scary, but only for a minute. My fears these days are eroding me like water did the Grand Canyon.
Sometimes, there's just sadness. In the movie today, there was someone that was extremely mean and evil toward a child. Sadness. My heart breaks and prays for mistreated children on a daily basis. In my house today, I called little Marylebone, the Scottie, up to sit with me for a bit. I scratched him, then stopped.......he nosed my hand up for more. After a good five-minute scratching session, I realized that his dad is gone, his girls are gone, and I'm the only one left to pet a scratch him on a daily basis. I will say every now and then, I get help with this from my favorite fifth-grader Riley. Still, the thought that anyone, even the creatures, would not get enough attention from me because of all the responsibilities I now have is just plain sad.
Then again, there is the example of Riley. We took her to the scary movie today. Her mom carefully scanned the reviews and deemed it appropriate. We promised her she could sit between us. As it came time to go in, her nerves almost seemed to get the better of her - slowing her step and clutching her tummy. We encouraged and joked and promised that it wouldn't be that bad. She got settled, legs tucked up so she could turn and hide her face in her mom's arm, and the movie started. After a few 'jumps' and 'scares', her reaction turned from hiding her face to laughing nervously. It was very cute, her mom and I are famous for laughing in scary or serious movies, we find it takes away the intensity. Ok, maybe we annoy some people around us, but it can't be helped! Riley's laughter under stress was a reminder to me. The things I have going on at present may be scary, sad, stressful....but there's usually a little laughter in each day. And after a good laugh, you take a deep breath....and just keep going. Remember how I said Riley was nervous going in to the movie? On the way out, she was practically bouncing as she walked, and said "I'm so glad I went to see that!" I hope I can take things in stride like that and keep going. What an example. Take that, scary stuff.
Scary movies want to make us afraid of ghosts, 'spirits', beings that are stuck in the afterlife because of some evil reason or another. I happen to know that there is no such thing, and what is left behind is much more difficult to manage simply because we are left alone to handle things.
I sit writing this with a box fan blowing into my 'office', because the air conditioner needs repair. It's leaking Freon in the attic portion, so they have to replace all those workings. I have reserved the pretty penny that it will cost, scheduled the work and requested my day off. These are all the responsibilities of the sole adult that owns the house. In one scene of the movie today, the ghost punched the woman in the face. I might have preferred that horror to the stress and cost of getting the a/c repaired.
This past Friday, I sold the dirt bike that he had left sitting in the garage. I knew what he had paid for it, and ended up taking a bit less, just to get rid of it. I didn't envision him sitting on it, or trying to start it - like the movie with its visions of a person long gone sitting on the bed. I just saw the bike, the space it's been taking up in the garage, the hope I had that it would start for the potential buyers after four months, and the dust and cobwebs that clung to it. Start it finally did, and after the exchange of cash, the bike was theirs. Of course, I typed out a receipt, one for them, one for me, because I could hear him saying "Make sure you give a receipt, I've see too many 'People's Court' episodes where stupid people didn't get anything in writing....." All right, I didn't envision anything, but boy, could I hear his words in my brain. That's not scary, though. That is comforting.
I am one person at home now - with three cars to choose from. I do intend to sell them and upgrade to something newer, and therefore (in theory) more dependable. One needs a new water pump, knock sensor, and catalytic converter. One just got a new water pump, but has a funny clank that I can't get it to make for the mechanic. The third is in decent shape, it's just ten years old! Now, I'll admit, we've been very spoiled as far a vehicles go - Scott could fix almost anything, therefore we got older, but more top-of the-line when we purchased. Having to sell and buy cars by myself is more of a nightmare than seeing a shadow face in the window. That's scary, but only for a minute. My fears these days are eroding me like water did the Grand Canyon.
Sometimes, there's just sadness. In the movie today, there was someone that was extremely mean and evil toward a child. Sadness. My heart breaks and prays for mistreated children on a daily basis. In my house today, I called little Marylebone, the Scottie, up to sit with me for a bit. I scratched him, then stopped.......he nosed my hand up for more. After a good five-minute scratching session, I realized that his dad is gone, his girls are gone, and I'm the only one left to pet a scratch him on a daily basis. I will say every now and then, I get help with this from my favorite fifth-grader Riley. Still, the thought that anyone, even the creatures, would not get enough attention from me because of all the responsibilities I now have is just plain sad.
Then again, there is the example of Riley. We took her to the scary movie today. Her mom carefully scanned the reviews and deemed it appropriate. We promised her she could sit between us. As it came time to go in, her nerves almost seemed to get the better of her - slowing her step and clutching her tummy. We encouraged and joked and promised that it wouldn't be that bad. She got settled, legs tucked up so she could turn and hide her face in her mom's arm, and the movie started. After a few 'jumps' and 'scares', her reaction turned from hiding her face to laughing nervously. It was very cute, her mom and I are famous for laughing in scary or serious movies, we find it takes away the intensity. Ok, maybe we annoy some people around us, but it can't be helped! Riley's laughter under stress was a reminder to me. The things I have going on at present may be scary, sad, stressful....but there's usually a little laughter in each day. And after a good laugh, you take a deep breath....and just keep going. Remember how I said Riley was nervous going in to the movie? On the way out, she was practically bouncing as she walked, and said "I'm so glad I went to see that!" I hope I can take things in stride like that and keep going. What an example. Take that, scary stuff.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
A Conversation 9/4/13
A Conversation Between My Feelings (F) and My Brain(B):
F: I'm old.
B: Just because you're a certain number doesn't mean you're ready for the home. You're as young as the ideas you have, the people you can keep up with, and the active things you can do. There are other people out there that seem older even though they're not!
F: Ok, fine. But why do I even bother to talk and tell people things? Nobody listens.
B: You just feel that way at certain times. It's not true. Students listen and you can see the "light bulb" moment when it happens. Your children listen, it just shows up later. Other people listen, some even follow your advice. The workplace......well, you can keep working on that one. Saying the same thing for seven years has to have some effect!
F: I can't deal with things right now.
B: Even by saying that, you are 'dealing'. It just may be a different reaction than you would have had before. You're doing the best you can, and you are living up to the bare minimum expectations. It's not necessary to be the valedictorian of life when you've been through this.
F: I want to cry a lot.
B: So cry!
F: But I'm always trying to hide it.
B: That is a built-in reaction, isn't it. Judge your surroundings and audience and proceed as necessary. If it attacks beyond reason, just excuse yourself.
F: So many friends and people are so nice to me. I don't know if I can be that nice back - or if I seem thankful enough. I feel like an empty locust shell sometimes.
B: Do the best you can. Reserve a day to try hard and catch up. If it doesn't work that day, try again another day. Tell people you appreciate them. Hug them. Send them thank-yous. Put stuff on social media. Try not to be a grouch.
F: But I feel grouchy a lot of the time.
B: Haven't I taught you that how you feel isn't always the real you? In 50 years, including the crying-in-the-room teenage years, you haven't figured that out? So you feel grouchy. It'll pass. A friend will make you laugh. Kids at school will make you laugh. Grouchy is not a forever state.
F: Ok, I feel better. But I still kinda want to be the valedictorian of life.
B: You never were one to give up.
Amen
F: I'm old.
B: Just because you're a certain number doesn't mean you're ready for the home. You're as young as the ideas you have, the people you can keep up with, and the active things you can do. There are other people out there that seem older even though they're not!
F: Ok, fine. But why do I even bother to talk and tell people things? Nobody listens.
B: You just feel that way at certain times. It's not true. Students listen and you can see the "light bulb" moment when it happens. Your children listen, it just shows up later. Other people listen, some even follow your advice. The workplace......well, you can keep working on that one. Saying the same thing for seven years has to have some effect!
F: I can't deal with things right now.
B: Even by saying that, you are 'dealing'. It just may be a different reaction than you would have had before. You're doing the best you can, and you are living up to the bare minimum expectations. It's not necessary to be the valedictorian of life when you've been through this.
F: I want to cry a lot.
B: So cry!
F: But I'm always trying to hide it.
B: That is a built-in reaction, isn't it. Judge your surroundings and audience and proceed as necessary. If it attacks beyond reason, just excuse yourself.
F: So many friends and people are so nice to me. I don't know if I can be that nice back - or if I seem thankful enough. I feel like an empty locust shell sometimes.
B: Do the best you can. Reserve a day to try hard and catch up. If it doesn't work that day, try again another day. Tell people you appreciate them. Hug them. Send them thank-yous. Put stuff on social media. Try not to be a grouch.
F: But I feel grouchy a lot of the time.
B: Haven't I taught you that how you feel isn't always the real you? In 50 years, including the crying-in-the-room teenage years, you haven't figured that out? So you feel grouchy. It'll pass. A friend will make you laugh. Kids at school will make you laugh. Grouchy is not a forever state.
F: Ok, I feel better. But I still kinda want to be the valedictorian of life.
B: You never were one to give up.
Amen
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