saturday morning appraisal
WE ARE SO LUCKY! i could list all the reasons here, but i won't. that's your homework.
off center
i don't know what it is, but i've always stayed away from things that everybody does, likes, or is. it's not that i'm trying to be different, although i've been accused of that by many people on many occasions. sometimes i think that some folks are threatened when faced with individuality. or at least my brand of it. or, maybe it just looks odd to those outside my head.
one of my favorite sayings is "what you think of me is none of my business". i always thought that said it all. that, and the old adage "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all". i've had to learn the hard way that nobody wants to hear MY opinion, especially when it's not a flattering one. the lesson learned here is don't give anyone advice or comments on their behavior, look, etc., unless you're asked to do so. hear me all friends and family. don't tell me what i should do, like, or feel. it's the surest way to get a major dirty look.
being original means alot to me. in this world of zillions, all doing and finding basically the same things, just different culturally and geographically (leaving out the truly sick and depraved, of course), the only true stand-outs are those who think or behave differently than the rest. performers, inventors, artists, those who see things differently enough to ask why, some brave enough to act on it. it's the extremes of thought process that starts it all. and the strength to act on it that takes it to the next level. no matter what anyone thinks :)
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one of my favorite sayings is "what you think of me is none of my business". i always thought that said it all. that, and the old adage "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all". i've had to learn the hard way that nobody wants to hear MY opinion, especially when it's not a flattering one. the lesson learned here is don't give anyone advice or comments on their behavior, look, etc., unless you're asked to do so. hear me all friends and family. don't tell me what i should do, like, or feel. it's the surest way to get a major dirty look.
being original means alot to me. in this world of zillions, all doing and finding basically the same things, just different culturally and geographically (leaving out the truly sick and depraved, of course), the only true stand-outs are those who think or behave differently than the rest. performers, inventors, artists, those who see things differently enough to ask why, some brave enough to act on it. it's the extremes of thought process that starts it all. and the strength to act on it that takes it to the next level. no matter what anyone thinks :)
reflecting pools
as i was walking today, listening to some very reflective songs, it occurred to me that "i" "me" and "my" are the words i use most. i kept thinking of the tale of narcissus and trying to figure out if i was in love with my own mind as he was with his reflection. the turn of a phrase, the click of a shutter. two ways i express myself. but do i have high expectations of my own talents, or just the opinions of those who look and read?
january 1st can really affect the mind. i never understood why we look at only this date for our new beginnings when in fact each and every day presents that opportunity. here it is over a week later and i'm still dealing with what to change to make a better me. today, i think i have the answer.
talking about me, myself and i, leaves those more important out of the tale. small facts about people who've added richness and depth to life came through. a dear friend writes about the small stuff, so here is some small stuff about OTHERS:
tommy's favorite band was santana
gramma jean loved the snuggle spokes-bear
carol had red ribbons taped under the dining room chairs for good luck
anthony couldn't believe that anyone would like dandelions
mary-ann made home-made brown-sugar frosting
aunt josie believed you had to respect your parents no matter what they've done
uncle bob taught me geometry on grampa's back-house studio blackboard
nick's build-a-raiders bear holds a secret
cindy hates piecrust
mom was once pursued by the leader of los ratos
mrs. lyles pulled anyone's hair who left their paintbrush in the water cup
mandy called hair bows/clips/ties "pretties"
grampa tom answered anyone's "when" question with "tomorrow, two-o-clock"
cinnamon's favorite store was the akron
ed knows the right gift for the right person, always
cheryl thinks fruit-flavored yogurt is 'just wrong'
ashley hates feet
tracy loved the smell of cement wet with pool water
dad was once referred to as the little man with the big horn
lourdes wanted to be named violeta instead
dana collects bowls
suzzanne got married at christmastime because she loves christmas
grampa rocky subscribed to westways and used its pages to model his paintings
carol collected teeny perfume bottles
daria's middle name is a combination of her parents' first names
gramma rose carried a rose rainbonnet in her purse
liz hated the nickname "boobie"
christy is team jacob
sammie likes the fact that someone can put your name on a grain of rice
lori signed a notepaper and said "keep this, it'll be worth something someday"
tracy wrote that the three of us were each one-third of a person
miss messler made gum-chewing p.e. girls wear their gum on their noses
lissa rules
charles' nickname was c.r.k cuz we didn't know his real one
kevin used to sketch himself as his signature
gregory's tubestalls beat mitchell's bottom turns anytime
some people have the same names, but only one fact per person listed. so many great things, so many great people. no two alike, none taken for granted. looking back, it's easy to see how many things, thoughts and people it takes to shape a life. and what gets stuck in your head along the way, can't possibly be explained.
searching
my life can be summed up in the searches. not least of all the search for a partner to share with. i'd heard success stories where folks married at 40+ at the end of their search and all was right again in their worlds. at least those were the stories told to me by some who wished i could finally find mr. right instead of mr. could-be-if-i-try-harder.
i can say now that the love story continues and that it is okay to meet that i'm-so-happy-to-be-with person at a later age. the shared history? i've seen that it can be the very thing that breaks up the heartiest relationship. lately i've begun to 'un-romanticize' that theory and realize that the differences we bring to the mix are just as powerful. that we've settled as humans and (hopefully) learned to handle discrepancy with grace also comes into play here. the years we get through do make us stronger, i'm sure of it.
chapter one: meeting someone.
it happened at work during a time so chaotic i really don't know how i got through it. yet there he was, someone who smiled when i passed by and sent a bit of sanity my way in an unsettled atmosphere. i was pleasantly surprised to realize that he wasn't there to hurt or take, that he shared common experiences growing up not far from where i did, and that his search was on a similar path as mine. the times that followed became more meaningful and hard to let go. the opportunities to go on separately were there, but something just held us. something i later realized was love.
chapter two: merging
can we fit and fill well-established lives and expectations? not the easiest task when you've logged so many hard-won miles. but when the person is worth it, the fit just happens. the journey begins together, and the upsets end in holding on. we both felt again and again that our meeting was important and that our feelings would one day form a routine that fulfill and sustain, one that we'd be happy to come home to.
chapter three: i do
there was a promise to love, then there was a promise to stay. both done most eloquently. i'm very lucky to have found someone who expresses their love meaningfully and in unforgettable ways. the ring box in the comfies, the monogrammed stockings, the bed-n-breakfasts, surprise spa treatments, even a home-cooked candlelight dinner or two. gifts from the heart and for the mind. just some of the things i've been blessed with. a strong family, work ethic and mindset, the ability to fix EVERYTHING and make things better than they were before, more blessings. our weddingmoon: the most magical time in my life.
chapter four: nesting and other likenesses
our home is our image. we are both there in the walls and hedges. who knew there were so many more ideas than my narrow decorating abilities. there's a certain strength and ease about our style that wasn't there before. no more girl-child beginnings or chances. just solid wood in the most inviting colors and textures. solid. a word i've gotten used to lately. that he'll be there and do what's right when all else falls away - restoration of faith in its most vulnerable state. i just need to learn to lean into it more, something i have trouble with due to all sorts of prior disappointments. strength in weakness, a new concept for me.
chapters: near and distant future
to appreciate, to demonstrate, and to illustrate the love that has come to me. to allow for a differing opinion. to give in ways that add exclamation points to their meaning. i hope to shorten my learning curves and enjoy my surprise life to the fullest. that i can see other loves as frivolous and unearned in comparison, rights so many wrongs and heals so many wounds. my husband has brought me that and more.
the love continues...
me?
a year has gone by. wow. on days like this i need to stop time & look around. i'm not necessarily religious, nor do i seriously believe in divine intervention. it's nice to think of in theory - God's hand guiding us, but i've always thought those who claim God has led them to a place or person were just grasping to justify actions. or that a simple stroke of luck came their way and they've glorified its meaning. as i sit here now and look back on the few times when i can't ignore a guiding hand in my life, i realize that today is one of them.
i've never handled stress well. either i'm searching and hoping for someone to pick me up from sorrow and transport me to a happier place of being OR i'm just downright destructive to myself and those i love the most. all times i wish i'd behaved differently but simply didn't know how. nor would i look beyond my comfort zone for answers. i blamed my depths and inability to get past them on clinical depression.
oh, don't get me wrong, i'll take whatever pill or potion recommended to get me through those times. they hurt too much not to. lately though i've turned to someone else for relief & salvation. me.
i've discovered that a good cry really can help me get through times of confusion where in the past i thought that was a ridiculous theory. i mean, when the crying is over, then what? you're still in the same mess, feeling the same way, right? either times have changed or i have. or my mental health has. or all three. but i do find that a good cry can help to cleanse some of the mess inside.
another amazing thing has happened - for the first time in my life i can honestly say that i enjoy my own company. not tolerate out of desperation, but ENJOY my alone time and journeys. this has helped in countless ways, including the miracle of getting me off the couch & out through the neighborhoods walking. no boredom, no loneliness, just me & that's okay.
recently, there've been times when i've relied on my own company to pick up & carry me through hard times. when i can't think of a single person to sit with me while i figure out my life, thoughts & issues, without judgement or need to do it all out loud. when the crying is over and the 'now what' creeps in. when my heart or head tells me there's something missing in my life. when i'm unsure where to go from here. there's me.
that i've come to this non-loneliness and peace, well, i have to give credit and thanks where due. thank you God for leading me. thank you Mom for showing me that it can be done and how. thank you Ed for recognizing the signs that i need to work it out myself and supporting, even urging me to look for solutions on my own.
there are very few times in my life that i've gone off desperately seeking solace. those times when it got too tough to stare at the walls or my bedposts, but to go out & take back the meaning. i've gotten into the car armed with a journal & a pen, asking for a hand to lead me to a place condusive to quiet thought and clarity. somewhere inspirational, bordering on magical. once i gave in to the journey, i was delivered effortlessly to the very places i requested. vastly different but similar in atmosphere, places that each helped me to obtain clarity & get back on a good path.
the beauty of nature can restore me like nothing else can. okay, expensive spa treatments and the manufactured zen environment where they're delivered can do wonders as well. but sitting with nature, enjoying stillness and my own thought process in 'restore' mode - those times are very few. but lately asked & answered with a force so strong it steers my car. i know this because each time the places i found were unknown to me before i landed there.
serenity. i wear it on a bracelet. i search for it with my soul. and i now feel confident i can find it. with God's hand and just a little help from my new best friend. me.
some days there are answers
others, only questions.
why do some fear and others dare?
why do some take care and others take for granted?
why do some ask 'why me' and others ask 'why not'?
why do some curse the coming rain while others grab a good book and some hot cocoa?
why do some dominate and others appreciate?
why do some wish and others create?
why do some look forward and others reach back?
how can people lie, cheat, steal and kill?
how can someone leave another who loves them deeply without even a glance backward?
how do i know when to say i'm sorry and when to say go away?
how can we take our health for granted when others pray for theirs?
how can puppies be so darned cute?
how can some remember and others forget?
how can i live without my loved ones who've died?
when is it time to give up?
when will our elected officials work for the good of the country and not themselves?
when will there be a cure for cancer?
when will i have enough time to spend with all the people i love?
when can i finally put old hurts to rest?
when will i have enough 'stuff'?
when will my intense love of music make my head explode?
what is my purpose in this lifetime?
as promised...
I read somewhere that all children mythologize their birth. I don’t believe this to be true in all cases, I rather think I’ve met some folks who, now down and out, think of that time as an inconvenience to their parents and a disappointment to others. I find it hard to relate things that I’ve only heard and not seen, or seen but didn’t remember, then heard at family gatherings time and time again, each time etched more immortally within my own personal story. I definitely have an issue of it and if I ever write my story, how much of it was told to me as opposed to those times I lived, felt and believed. Most definitely my babyhood is all filtered through the minds, beliefs and story-telling powers of my relatives.
While I don’t believe all of us think our arrivals as front-page news, I do think that each of us, in our own way, would take the chance if offered to go back in time and experience our first months of life. That time when, even though we’re living, we have no recollection (as if we’re in a coma or under anesthesia). If everyone around us wasn’t as nurturing as they should be, or downright mean, we wouldn’t have the slightest recollection of it. People we came to trust later in our lives could have been those harshest to us in our early days and nobody but an outside observer would have that knowledge. If that observer didn’t tell, or wasn’t around in later years, did the tree fall in the forest?
I’m not all that versed on repressed memories and related psychology, but it seems to me that patients are always recalling hideous things that happened, rather than just a time where they might’ve lain in their mother’s lap, by a soothing fire, feeling that all was right and snug in the world. Further, if we do have those “snug” moments, are those the ones that carry us through life and give us hope where others, maybe not so cuddled, have doubt? I’ve always thought ‘nature vs. nurture” a fascinating study, although one that would take a spare lifetime, which I do not have.
What most of us remember about this amnesic time after our births and somewhere before the ages of four or five, is what we see in pictures. The ones that carry the unmistakable brand of the decade in which they were taken. Since I’m not yet fifty, my beginnings were captured on thick, quality paper with pattern-cut edges with warm shades of white-grey-black. I try to imagine color in that world, but it’s not there until those same pictures move, as Grampa was also an amateur movie-maker. None of us knows how lucky or unlucky our childhoods were, until notes are compared. Maybe the comparison isn't such a good idea after all.
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