Aging

My confirmation, Temple Emanuel

I think this picture was taken around 1975. My mother is the woman on the far right. Her mother, my grandmother, is the woman standing in the pantsuit in the center. Her husband, one of my grandfathers, is beside her.  It's funny that my dad kept his sunglasses on for the photo. The man on the far left is his father, the other of my grandfathers.My siblings are also in the picture along with one of my aunts who is my father's sister.

It brings sorrow to me that all have passed on except for my siblings and my mother. It is sorrow for love gone by. The deaths in my family of which I was a part were not long and drawn out. My beloved Nana Anna passed very quickly. I lied about my age in order to see her in intensive care. My Poppa Jack also passed away in the hospital. I got to see him one time, too. My father never woke up from what turned out to be his final heart surgery.

My mother is turning 82 on Tuesday and it is getting harder to be around her. Whenever she spoke of the final years before her mother passed, she would reminisce about how mean she was to her. My older sister witnessed it but at that time I lived halfway across the country and had my own issues.

I am looking at the picture and realize I am flanked by my grandfathers. I remember Poppa Jack making sure he was next to me. It was a protective act.

I am losing my mother as her brain changes with age. She was never the milk and cookies type of mom and our relationship was rocky but these past few years she tried. We had fun together and would laugh. Being with her now is a lesson in patience and reminding myself that her hurting me is a symptom of what is going on with her physically. Apparently this is heredity. My older sister, not joking, reminded me the other day on the phone that we have a pact that if one of us gets mean when we are old to say something.

With each new visit, I hope that the time spent with her is without me getting my feelings hurt. This probably sounds selfish of me especially when I know she is oblivious to the effect her actions and words have on me.

I have started to mourn my mother. She is leaving me very slowly. Little pieces of her are breaking off and crumbling never to return. After each visit it is taking longer for me to recover my balance because she is getting worse.

I was going to write about Lolly today, our (Poppy and me) new girl. She's a 5 year old Chihuahua that was rescued from euthanasia. I'll have to talk about her soon. Until then, here's a pic.

What are you doing right now?

If you are still mad at someone, your feelings are still hurt. It is when you have let go that you won't feel anything but peace.

I know that letting go means you have to give up the connection and feelings associated with this person. Joys or heartbreaks. It doesn't matter.  Do you want peace? Then let go of self-righteousness, too. How does one let go? One lives in the present. Every time you allow your thoughts to grind in the past, you are back there! No one but you is being tortured.

So - let go. Even though the past might be easier and the future is unknown. We do have the present. What are you doing right now?

Blood Letting

I took a friend out to lunch today.  Walking back to the car after eating, I saw on the ground a little Japanese doll pendant.  It is made out of plastic or rubber.  Some kind of material that is squishy, yet firm.  I took it as a sign of good luck coming my way.

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I have been struggling a long time.  My whole life, actually.  I made decisions based upon emotional needs.  I wanted to do things my way.  I needed control.  I couldn't let things go.  Last year I made a decision to not ride the merry-go-round anymore.  I was tired of the same lessons visiting me over and over again because I didn't want to learn.  That involved deep protracted surgery on my psyche and what stopped me in the past was knowing how painful that would be.  The thing is is that I also knew I couldn't continue to live my life the way I had been.

It wasn't going to be an overnight excursion but instead a long distance voyage into really seeing myself.  What did I need to change?  What did I need to do differently?  I never EVER wanted to run around the same circle again so I pushed when I wanted to give up.  I ran when all I wanted was to inch along on my hands and knees.  I allowed the knife of truth to open me up and I bled.

I'm still learning but the hardest part is over.  Recently a situation presented itself that I knew I had to handle much differently than I would have before.  I made sure to not repeat old patterns.  I consciously made the decision to think and act differently.  Instead of drama and hurt, there is peace.

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I had an appointment with my doctor's assistant this past Friday.  Tiny infections, the size of single pores, kept popping up in different places on my skin.  Antibiotic ointment didn't cure them.  Anti-fungal cream was keeping them under control.  For at least a couple of months I had been feeling awful.  Tired. Wanting to sleep.  Achy.  I told the nurse and showed her the weird examples of what I had no name.  She ended up prescribing a month long course of antibiotics made specifically for bacterial infections.  I started it yesterday.  When taken on an empty stomach, this drug makes me so nauseous I want to puke.  Now I take it with food which isn't the preferred way but if I want to function the only way.  I am already feeling better and doing better.  She was right about what was happening inside of my body.  I listened to her and relied on her knowledge.

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The tiny infections in retreat is the physical representation of the healing of my heart.  The tiny Japanese doll pendant is a gift; a representation of future good luck.

Internet Rant!

I don't usually rant but I have been thinking a lot about how the internet has changed our lives and who we are as people.  Unacceptable behavior used to have consequences because it was person to person IN person.  Now everyone has keyboard courage and being a dick is easily accomplished with a few key strokes.  There is very little personal responsibility because it is so easy to get away with acting like a pile of rubbish stinking up the places you enter.  We have lost empathy and instead have reverted to simple primal behaviors.  Men beating their chests with their fists and women being able to behave badly and not be embarrassed by it because they cannot be seen.  There is damage being done, people.  These aren't victim-less crimes.  I read news stories online and want to rail against the ignorant comments full of judgment from people that think it is part of their entitlement as a human being to criticize others while they stand in their smelly shoes and don't think they stink because they can no longer smell their own rottenness.  Our cores are drying up and turning brown and ugly.  

On a lighter note, I accidentally burped in my dog's face the other night and all he did was sniff the air.  Only dogs would find a rude burp full of interesting information.

It is you I still miss

Folding clothes from the dryer
On the bed with the dog
And his toy

Thinking about one and a half years ago.

Two and a half years ago was the start
I never wanted to part
My soul would tear in two
And bleed when not with you.

The dog walks on the clean shirt
I throw the toy, what a good boy.

Your arms were my nest
The place I found rest
From the outside world of noise.

Then the whole thing changed
Everything was rearranged
Dark gloom descended as
Light backed out the door.

I walked the halls
I bumped into walls
Feeling every misstep and mistake.

No longer willing
No longer able
I asked for your keys
Please put them on the table.

Folded clothes in drawers
Standing, staring at the dog
Bending down for his kiss
It is you I still miss.

And now a word from our sponsor

If anyone is keeping up with my posts, you probably think I am a lunatic with wild mood swings.  I am actually someone very hurt from a freshly ended relationship and trying to find solace in writing.  It doesn't matter if I write about something funny, something sad, something true, or fiction.  If I am writing then I am helping to rid myself of the painful infection that keeps trying to build up in my bloodstream. 

I am mad at myself for feeling like this.  I should be happy it is over after all I am the one that ended it.  For months it had deteriorated until I had to cry uncle.  Even so, it is a loss and I must allow myself to grieve and give myself permission to one minute feel riddled with bullet holes and the next laughing.  I think part of the problem is I am normally more in control of my emotions and this time they are guiding the ship over rough waters making me seasick. 

Thanks for being there.  Thanks for sharing my life with me.

Happy Birthday To Me

Just putting one foot in front of the other is laborious.
Just breathing is hard.
How does one push forward when the wheel on your wheelbarrow is cripplingly bent?
No amount of glue, duct tape, or mending can close up the gash.
The cherished memories are rammed by the hurtful ones causing explosions of flames creating burnt-edged holes in my heart, mind, and soul.
My North Star has gone missing.
My blanket guarding me against the cold was lifted by the storm.
Happy Birthday to me.

Hearts

Hearts are like M and M's. When the hard covering is broken the soft inside becomes vulnerable so be careful that you aren't walking around with a hammer but instead have a soft touch.