Strength's Misconception

Batman stands at the top of my cubicle at work. When I become overwhelmed and don't know what to do next, I look at him and think, "It's simple. You can overcome whatever is happening. You are strong." I become calm and with a clearer head I go back to work.

He watches over me and is always there. Batman is my reminder that I can do what I must and even more. It doesn't bother me that you may think I am strange to have Batman as my focal point for times of stress because number 1, I don't care, and number 2, it works for me. His strength becomes my strength.

Lolly, my little rescue, looks for strength from Poppy. When I leave for work in the morning she gets very sad so she sits as closely to him as possible while she watches me walk out the door. Lolly has finally stopped chasing the cats and they have stopped hissing at her. She still has emotional wounds that have to heal but she is making headway. Bad memories are being replaced with happy ones.

We are but a wisp of smoke in time. Our bodies keep us pinned to the earth. Our souls look out from inside. We are not made to be totally alone. It goes against the rules of life. We need to understand others and be understood. We need strength so that we stay alive, loving and growing.

It is okay to need someone. It is okay to be needed. A bridge is crossed one footstep at a time but not necessarily alone.

The Definition of You

Cancer walked me through 2 surgeries and 3 radioactive iodine treatments.  It grabbed my head and forced me to look at death and ergo to look at life.  In 2011 I physically changed my life by moving to Florida from Maryland.  In 2014 I am making internal changes.

As we all know, my mother is 79 and this coming January she will be 80.  She has talked about death and heaven and what do I believe?  We've had this conversation a number of times and I say the same thing to her each time.  We are a soul, or spirit.  We need our physical body in order to live in this plain.  When our physical body dies, we move from this plain to another one and we continue on because we are not our bodies.

I was at Petco this morning picking up canned food for everybody - Senator, Trixie, and Poppy.  Because Poppy has food allergies, I have to buy him the expensive brands that don't have grains and a lot of ingredients.  Senator and Trixie think the cheaper the food the better it tastes but I am careful about their diets, too.  By the time I get in line to pay I have about had it with the whole shopping process.  Even though I have breasts and a uterus I don't like to shop.  I got to the only register open and I am happy that I am next in line until I see the cashier is in the middle of some kind of refund/rebate/difficult customer process and she is working methodically but feverishly as the line behind me grows.  I put on my Zen cap and decided that I would remain calm.  My getting irritated was not going to change what was happening.  It would only make things worse.

When I am forced into a situation like that, I look around for things to occupy my thoughts.  I realize that the man in front of me with his hands on the cart was huge.  He was possibly 6 1/2 feet tall and his biceps were the size of my thighs.  His skin was taught and I could see where it had to stretch around the huge muscles.  His back was broad and he had stubble on his legs from when he last shaved them.  He was obviously a body builder.  I looked at his hair and I saw a lot of grey.  He wasn't a kid and it was evident he had been working on his physique for some time.  A woman walked in the "out" door and stood in front of the cart.  She was maybe in her early 40s and she was with him.  She looked intensely at his face as she scanned it for queues.  I could see her eyes take him in and calculate his mood.  I wondered if his size and build made her feel protected or if it intimidated her.  I wondered if I could be with a man that looked like that and I decided I couldn't.

He created his appearance to communicate something.  He was his own artwork.  He was better than Michelangelo's David because he was not a statue made of stone.  He was man.

The only part of his face I saw was his profile when he looked at the cashier.  Otherwise he was looking straight ahead.  When it finally came to pay, both he and the woman reached for their respective wallets.  His was a money clip and even though he pulled money from it it was like he was moving in slow motion.  He was actually waiting for her to step in and pay, and she did.  It made me wonder about him some more.

No matter what he does to his body it is his soul, his spirit, that ultimately defines him.  What he does with his life, who he has touched, how he as loved, and if he has helped or hurt - these are the things that matter.  I am asking you to look beyond the body and see the person that inhabits it.

Beautiful Soul

Saturday is my day to run errands.  I plot my route like an air traffic controller keeping in mind all of the different needs and details each stop requires along with one eye on gas usage.  Going to the grocery store 99.9% of the time is my final destination before home.

Since Winn Dixie has great ground beef, prices, and gas rewards, I shop there.  Winn Dixie has wider aisles and less tumult than Publix.  The cement floor is homely and the clientele watch their pennies.

One of my hangups is I cannot grocery shop comfortably when a store is crowded.  I get anxious to the point where I will forego picking up everything on my list just to get the hell out of there.  The anxiety sometimes makes me feel like I can't breath so I will do the "Can I live without this item until I go again?" thing in my head.  If I can, boom!  It is added to my next grocery store list and I am released from the torture sooner rather than later.

Today there were very few people shopping and I was in my own little world of indecision as I stared at the meat prices matching up which of what was on sale and which of what was buy 1/get 1 free when I felt someone looking at me.  I stood up and looked behind me to my right and saw a young woman maybe in her mid twenties.  She had her straight light brown hair cut short and was pretty.  Her left hand was bent at the wrist in an unnatural position and she held onto the cart with that along with her right hand.  I noticed her stance was off kilter, too.  I smiled at her and she smiled back.  "Am I in your way," I asked.  It wouldn't have surprised me if I was as I become oblivious to my surroundings when deep in thought.  She replied, "No" clearly enough that I could understand her.  That was the final clue that she probably had cerebral palsy or something similar.  I smiled again and once again she smiled back but there was more that was unspoken.  I was treating her as I would anyone else.  I was showing her respect one person for another; I was not transmitting pity or averting my eyes.

There was an older woman about 6 feet away from the young lady looking at the cold food items and I figured it was her mother.  She wore the same no-nonsense clothing and haircut.  Even though they were not near each other or talking, I sensed a strong bond between them. As the daughter grew, the mother allowed her her own space.  The mother had to decide a long time ago how she should behave when it came to caring for her child when she became an adult.  By the way they both respected each other, it was clear they had worked out a healthy balance between hovering and independence.

I went back to concentrating on what I should buy and eventually we passed each other.  I met the daughter's eyes one last time.  After they both were behind me I turned around and saw that because her right leg was shorter than her left she walked on her tip-toes on her right foot.

There was something very beautiful about the young lady.  Maybe I was seeing her soul as it touched my soul.  To me she glided over the floor.  I would have like to have talked to her.  While the muscular dystrophy reeked havoc with her body, her spirit was not disfigured.  It was gentle.  In my mind I untwisted her limbs and unfroze her tongue.

Keep Calm

You can tell yourself everything is alright and that you're not stressed out.  You're handling everything just fine.  You're an expert at juggling and keeping everyone happy.

Nope.

You're sitting at your laptop and you feel your heart start banging around in your chest.  You have to take deep breaths.  Keep calm.  It's a panic attack.

I don't like the name panic attack because in my personal experience it happens when I am quiet, not panicking.  Heart disease runs in my family so when I had my first one many years ago my initial thought was heart attack.  A co-worker, who was a sympathetic soul, told me to lie down on the office couch because it was a panic attack.  We didn't need to call the paramedics just yet.

Periodically someone will post on Facebook a bare bones explanation of why people have panic attacks and that those that experience them should not be ashamed.  "They are signs of having tried to remain strong for too long."  I cannot argue with that as those are the times I experience them.

My heart and mind voted to have my body, the big mouth, do the talking for them.  "Take it easy.  Don't put so much pressure on us because you are freaking us out!"

Got it.  I'll make some changes.  Thanks.  And sorry.

Beauty Comes from the Soul

People, friends and strangers alike, will always have an opinion about how one should dress, how one should act, and what one should think. They formulate these based upon their own personal experiences, upbringing, social stigmas, level of insecurity, and level of love. Tattoos, hair color, hair style, clothing, and makeup are one's personal expression of inner self. If people, friends and stranger alike, can't hack it, it is their problem. You need not take that on and integrate it into your self worth. Beauty comes from the soul.