One year ago today, I received a message. It was an unsolicited message. It was very nice. It was sent by another person just reaching out to say 'Hey! You're doing all right!" Do you ever have the feeling that you should just tell someone they're doing well? It's a wonderful instinct that, in my opinion, should be followed as often as you can!
A year ago, I read and occasionally posted in a grief forum for spouse/partner loss. I had recently started posting links to this blog. Everyone on there was going through the same thing. They still are now, and new ones have appeared. There is a lot of explaining and sharing each one's personal story, encouragement and asking "Is this normal?". Forums may be right for some, not right for others. As a matter of fact, not every forum is right for every person. The truth is: when you've lost your spouse and come home to an empty house, the forums are.......there. An empty house becomes a living, breathing reminder that you are alone. These days, however, it is possible to sit at your computer and communicate with others, therefore feeling not so alone.
On this particular forum, you could post, comment on posts and send private messages. There had been a few instances in December 2013 when I had commented on posts by a 'Robbie R' (and vice- versa). Those comments are still there today. On January 26th, I received a private message from him. It was very sweet and encouraging and talked a bit about the loneliness. I answered it just as sweetly (of course!) and the exchange of communication began.
Today, we are twelve days away from getting married. We've yet to decide on a cake topper, but the idea of two computers has popped into my mind more than a few times! I want to take this opportunity to thank 'Robbie R' for having the courage to send me a message. It wasn't flirtatious or suggestive, it was simply straightforward and encouraging. I did write a few blogs that complained about subjects (surprise!) and he was able to agree with me and say "Yeah, what about that?". He spoke up. It takes nerve to speak up.
If you hear or see something that makes you want to speak up, you should give it some thought, and then do it if it seems right. From the grief-stricken to the most happy, everyone needs to hear things like "I agree with you." "You're doing a great job." "I feel the same way." "You'll never know how what you did affected me." and "Keep up the good work.". Robbie and I are examples of how speaking up at the right time can bring change to your life. I'm not going to promise that yours will lead to marriage, of course, but the effect of kind encouraging words on others can make this world a better place.
Showing posts with label good attitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good attitude. Show all posts
Monday, January 26, 2015
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Getting Poked, Prodded, and Patted 2/26/14
I ran over a nail. My new car beeped at me "Low Tire Pressure!!". I saw the nail - it was toward the outside of the tire, just stuck in there. I went to get it fixed and ended up having to buy a tire for my new car. My car had 825 miles on it that day. I laughed it off, texting my friend: "Life keeps poking me." As in a nail...in a tire....get it?
I went to the doctor. The first round of pills had not cleared the bronchitis and I felt worse. He sat me on the table and checked ears, nose, throat, told me I was very congested (I didn't feel like I was...) and then told me he was going to press on my face, let him know if it was painful. He even moved my bangs out of the way. That is a big deal, you know, those bangs are carefully placed and lightly, oh so lightly sprayed each morning so as to look naturally carefree and beautiful. I am a product of the Farrah years, you know. The doctor moved my bangs and pressed and prodded my whole face. It did not hurt. Worrying about getting my bangs fixed hurt a lot more. He prescribed more pills to make me well, and I repaired my hair once I got in the car.
I pet my dogs and cats regularly, I love them and can't resist giving them a good pat or scratch. They seem to like it, the cute little furbabies. I also get petted regularly. No, that is not leading where you think! Every work day of my life, I teach little ones in the afternoon. Five and six year olds. They also have to walk right past me every day to switch from music to PE, or the other way round. Here's what it looks like when a child that age wants to tell me something: They stand, their little head waist-high to my adult self, elbow bent, with their hand patting the first part of me it can find. I get my stomach patted several times a day. They don't care or look when they pat, they just want to tell some news! "It's my mom's birthday today!" "My tooth came out!" "Joey hit me!' The stomach pat makes sure that I will bend my head and look right into their earnest little eyes.
There are also the same little darlings that think the pat should be used to get my attention if my back is turned. Let's just say that it does! All in all, I think all the poking, prodding and patting that happens in my life serves to move me around a bit, but then put me right back where I was before. It's not fun to have to buy a new tire just because of a nail. It's not fun to get my face prodded, be prescribed more medicine and get my hair messed up, either. It's not really fun to get my tummy patted as if I were a household pet - but then again, those little faces and their excitement over what they have to share makes the tire and the hair fall back into second place because they love me and want to tell me their "stuff". The nail in my tire didn't love me, and I'm fairly sure after all these years that my hair doesn't love me (maybe love-hate...) but the 'patters'? They love me. So I teach them to just speak to me, or raise their hand, but all the way until they turn eleven and leave me for middle school, I remember the little arm that used to pat me; and I laugh inside.
I went to the doctor. The first round of pills had not cleared the bronchitis and I felt worse. He sat me on the table and checked ears, nose, throat, told me I was very congested (I didn't feel like I was...) and then told me he was going to press on my face, let him know if it was painful. He even moved my bangs out of the way. That is a big deal, you know, those bangs are carefully placed and lightly, oh so lightly sprayed each morning so as to look naturally carefree and beautiful. I am a product of the Farrah years, you know. The doctor moved my bangs and pressed and prodded my whole face. It did not hurt. Worrying about getting my bangs fixed hurt a lot more. He prescribed more pills to make me well, and I repaired my hair once I got in the car.
I pet my dogs and cats regularly, I love them and can't resist giving them a good pat or scratch. They seem to like it, the cute little furbabies. I also get petted regularly. No, that is not leading where you think! Every work day of my life, I teach little ones in the afternoon. Five and six year olds. They also have to walk right past me every day to switch from music to PE, or the other way round. Here's what it looks like when a child that age wants to tell me something: They stand, their little head waist-high to my adult self, elbow bent, with their hand patting the first part of me it can find. I get my stomach patted several times a day. They don't care or look when they pat, they just want to tell some news! "It's my mom's birthday today!" "My tooth came out!" "Joey hit me!' The stomach pat makes sure that I will bend my head and look right into their earnest little eyes.
There are also the same little darlings that think the pat should be used to get my attention if my back is turned. Let's just say that it does! All in all, I think all the poking, prodding and patting that happens in my life serves to move me around a bit, but then put me right back where I was before. It's not fun to have to buy a new tire just because of a nail. It's not fun to get my face prodded, be prescribed more medicine and get my hair messed up, either. It's not really fun to get my tummy patted as if I were a household pet - but then again, those little faces and their excitement over what they have to share makes the tire and the hair fall back into second place because they love me and want to tell me their "stuff". The nail in my tire didn't love me, and I'm fairly sure after all these years that my hair doesn't love me (maybe love-hate...) but the 'patters'? They love me. So I teach them to just speak to me, or raise their hand, but all the way until they turn eleven and leave me for middle school, I remember the little arm that used to pat me; and I laugh inside.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Still no right or wrong? (With apologies to the Yankees...)
I don't know anymore. What's right, that is....or what's wrong. And this sentiment has nothing to do with people that have questioned me or told me "You better watch out...." I am a very fortunate woman; everyone supports me, cheers me on, tells me how smart I am, etc. I am obviously smart enough to surround myself with the right people, wink wink. Here's what I don't know - when do I throw out that "no right, no wrong" philosophy because it has become a crutch that allows me to be a spoiled brat that says "I want this...." and gets it, with no regard for anyone involved in whatever "it" is?
This is a subject that needs a lot of "thought". I wish it could be all light and fun. But it's not, and I do mean to approach it still. I want to ensure that I take the right path. I've seen and known people that use their circumstance as an excuse to be selfish. A "dowager countess", or "poor widow" attitude - where everyone in society still today makes excuses for their behavior.
I know that I am not a selfish bitch. Please don't look at this and think that you have to say "Oh, no, you're not, blah blah blah.....". I know that. I am talking more about an inner attitude than outward actions. I can behave myself with the best of them. It's what I think when something is happening that has changed. You would never know. If you know me at all, you know that it's very difficult to tell how I really, truly feel, much less what I think; unless I let you. I have a privacy fence around my true feelings that has very few gates.
I'm stepping into uncharted territory. I'm doing my best to finish: probate, transfers of property, vehicle sales and purchases, taxes, completing a year alone, making every decision, and always being the one to pet every animal. I've done it. I haven't been perfect, but I don't allow myself to be far off perfect. However, I am also now a single person. That's frightening. I mean.......I realized I was 'single' the night my husband died. I just didn't put all the accessories with it, because the all-engulfing sadness of losing your spouse doesn't let you do that. As I have traveled the road of time, I am able to put the feelings in their place. The sadness is there. So is laughter, pride, aggravation and loneliness. But it also has me realizing that a part of my life is wearing off. It's becoming a memory instead of a reality.
I suppose some people choose to put all their feelings under glass and live out the rest of their life in a sort of acid-free, preserved way. And others choose to shift the feelings as they change; to sort them and file them in the right place. Personally, I'm at a crossroads right now. I know that it's my prerogative to sort the feelings as I choose. I know that what's right for me is really what's right. But when the attitude and feelings of others could possibly be affected by my sorting....I have to start caring again. I have to start thinking along the lines of right and wrong. If you know me, you know that I can't be the snooty widow that does what she wants just because life slapped me in the face one time. There are things to consider.
I'm still wearing the ring, and probably always will. It's a thing; a beautiful thing. But its scratches don't actually cause it any pain. My attitude has to be different toward life and real feelings that actually affect real people. If I could, I would hide everyone's feelings to protect them, just as the silver was hidden from the Yankees. As it is, I will remember that right and wrong have re-surfaced for me and I will travel the road carefully, with the rules in mind. After all......tomorrow is another day!
Saturday, December 14, 2013
I Want to Run With the Hobbit! 12/14/13
I saw the second installation of "The Hobbit" last night. Yes, I'm a fan. A regular fan, not a Comic-con level fan (although I have attended Comic-con, go figure!) I have read the book quite a few times during my life, including one time OUT LOUD, completely through, to my children. I love Bilbo, the dwarfs, their escapades, Gandalf, Gollum, even Smaug. Orcs and dragons are bad. Hobbits, dwarfs and elves are good. What's not to love?
What I love best, though, is the way that the characters that are small in stature think that they are setting out (in the beginning) to accomplish a small task, for themselves. The dwarfs want their homeland back. Bilbo simply wants to experience a little adventure. However, since they have to cross the paths of other species, travel strange lands and awaken old rivalries, they end up being elevated to little heroes whose somewhat selfish endeavors could actually save their world from evil!
(My own liberal summation, apologies to Mr. Tolkien and all the experts.)
I sat through the opening of the movie, wondering why I didn't feel sad. Last Christmas, our family of four saw the first one together. There aren't too many occasions on which an entire family can see a movie adaptation of a book they have all read and loved. We even saw it at a restaurant/cinema place, similar to the one we were at last night. But I didn't feel sad. I have the 'he should be here' thoughts, but the atmosphere, being with my girls, the food.....the sadness was not able to attack. I'm glad it wasn't, because it enabled me to enjoy the movie from the very opening, where I was completely inspired by two scenes.
Near the beginning, the dwarfs, Bilbo and Gandalf have to run from the Orcs. The director, Peter Jackson, (who is extremely passionate about bring these books to film - I suspect he is part hobbit...) takes advantage of the beautiful New Zealand countryside and shows a long shot of the whole group just running across a beautiful field backed by gorgeous mountains. They must have acted the hell out of that running, because it got me. I sat there thinking "I want to run with the hobbits!!" A few scenes later, they cross some similarly gorgeous landscape, only this time on Beorn's stately horses. Once again, I could only think, "I want to ride with them! Go, you dwarfs and hobbit, go!"
The dwarfs and the hobbit were running and riding away from evil Orcs, but they were also running with a purpose to accomplish some good. They don't realize at that point in the story just how much good, and at what a cost, but they were running! They were riding horses, fast! I am inspired to run to do my small good things. I am inspired that if I do some small good in my life, that it might fit together like a jigsaw puzzle with others who do small good in their lives......and greater good can happen!
Almost everyone I know strives to do their own good each day. I have been fortunate in life to always be able to surround myself with positive people. I do know that we live in the real world, not Middle Earth. But I hope that the good that we all put out there every day can make a difference. Our enemy is not an evil sorcerer/wizard. We all use our good to counteract neglect, meanness, hunger, poverty, disease, all those "bad" things in the world. I'm glad I saw the dwarfs and hobbit running. It gave me joy. It had me cheering for the good guys. And it let me know that small good can work together for bigger purposes.
Sometimes, though, I approach my day, my golden opportunity to put more 'good' out there, with a sigh. I've had some good reasons, but I think it's time to try and run. One sigh or one deep breath can help, but then it's time to run. Time to smile, time to look and listen and encourage. That won't be easy every day, but it's worth a try. I want to run with the hobbit - but since that's impossible, I will try to "run" to make my own small difference for good.
What I love best, though, is the way that the characters that are small in stature think that they are setting out (in the beginning) to accomplish a small task, for themselves. The dwarfs want their homeland back. Bilbo simply wants to experience a little adventure. However, since they have to cross the paths of other species, travel strange lands and awaken old rivalries, they end up being elevated to little heroes whose somewhat selfish endeavors could actually save their world from evil!
(My own liberal summation, apologies to Mr. Tolkien and all the experts.)
I sat through the opening of the movie, wondering why I didn't feel sad. Last Christmas, our family of four saw the first one together. There aren't too many occasions on which an entire family can see a movie adaptation of a book they have all read and loved. We even saw it at a restaurant/cinema place, similar to the one we were at last night. But I didn't feel sad. I have the 'he should be here' thoughts, but the atmosphere, being with my girls, the food.....the sadness was not able to attack. I'm glad it wasn't, because it enabled me to enjoy the movie from the very opening, where I was completely inspired by two scenes.
Near the beginning, the dwarfs, Bilbo and Gandalf have to run from the Orcs. The director, Peter Jackson, (who is extremely passionate about bring these books to film - I suspect he is part hobbit...) takes advantage of the beautiful New Zealand countryside and shows a long shot of the whole group just running across a beautiful field backed by gorgeous mountains. They must have acted the hell out of that running, because it got me. I sat there thinking "I want to run with the hobbits!!" A few scenes later, they cross some similarly gorgeous landscape, only this time on Beorn's stately horses. Once again, I could only think, "I want to ride with them! Go, you dwarfs and hobbit, go!"
The dwarfs and the hobbit were running and riding away from evil Orcs, but they were also running with a purpose to accomplish some good. They don't realize at that point in the story just how much good, and at what a cost, but they were running! They were riding horses, fast! I am inspired to run to do my small good things. I am inspired that if I do some small good in my life, that it might fit together like a jigsaw puzzle with others who do small good in their lives......and greater good can happen!
Almost everyone I know strives to do their own good each day. I have been fortunate in life to always be able to surround myself with positive people. I do know that we live in the real world, not Middle Earth. But I hope that the good that we all put out there every day can make a difference. Our enemy is not an evil sorcerer/wizard. We all use our good to counteract neglect, meanness, hunger, poverty, disease, all those "bad" things in the world. I'm glad I saw the dwarfs and hobbit running. It gave me joy. It had me cheering for the good guys. And it let me know that small good can work together for bigger purposes.
Sometimes, though, I approach my day, my golden opportunity to put more 'good' out there, with a sigh. I've had some good reasons, but I think it's time to try and run. One sigh or one deep breath can help, but then it's time to run. Time to smile, time to look and listen and encourage. That won't be easy every day, but it's worth a try. I want to run with the hobbit - but since that's impossible, I will try to "run" to make my own small difference for good.
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