Crazy Stress

The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind.  I have missed writing, but I haven’t had time or energy.  The worst part was the fact that I have not allowed myself to write.  I have had nothing decent to say.  I have once again been mired down in frustration, stress, and depression.  Work has been a political, back-stabbing fest.  People I had once considered friends seem to be going out of their way to trip me up and make my life a bit uncomfortable.  Decency and kindness have been in short supply.  The past couple of weeks have been topsy turvy and confusing.  Mostly, it has seemed as if FRUSTRATION has been around every corner.

Sometimes, though, it is during the most stressful times in our lives that we are allowed to see the things that are truly good.  When we are stretched to our limits, the moments that ease our minds and lighten our hearts shine even more brightly.  I have leaned on T.  I have talked and talked, and he has listened.  He has been kind and considerate, and I am grateful for the blessing of having him in my life.

One night after a particularly bad day, T and I went for a walk.  It was late, and I was tired.  I didn’t really want to go, but he had asked me several times during the evening.  Finally, I agreed to go on a short walk.  We headed down our driveway and out to the open fields.  The night air was warm, and a gentle breeze blew over us from across the fields.  We walked along without talking, and I could feel the stress draining away.  Oh, how I love these fields.  I said to T, “We have the best-kept secret in the world out here.”  The peace and calm wrapped around me, and I started to talk to T.  I told him about my day.  All of it just spilled out, and I felt so much better.  It was like a pressure valve had been released.

Of course a long walk and a good conversation didn’t solve my problems or eliminate the stress in my life, but that night served to remind me that I do have T.  He is there for me.  So often, he has been the rock in my life.  I am the waves crashing and crashing into that rock.  He is steady, stable, and strong.  And then there is me…  Rising and falling, lifting up and crashing back down, ever-changing, flowing past and then back again, back to my rock.

All four kids are home now, and it feels like a holiday.  Luke is back home for the summer, and Andrew arrived yesterday to stay for a week.  It’s loud once again in our house.  Watching the kids talk and laugh with each other fills me with joy.  Emily graduates from high school on Sunday.  We’re having a small gathering of family and close friends after the graduation ceremony.  Tomorrow will be filled with cooking and cleaning and everyone pitching in.  I handed out assignments tonight, and the kids seem happy to be working together for a family celebration.  Hopefully, they can keep up the good attitudes once the sun comes up in the morning!

The stress at work and in other areas of my life will wait.  It won’t go away.  On Monday morning, it will greet me once again.  That’s fine, because for the next couple of days, I am refusing to acknowledge its presence.  Work is work.  Outside stress can wait.  For now I am giving myself over to the warmth and happiness of my family.  Maybe the house won’t be as clean as I might like or expect it to be for a party.  Maybe the food won’t be perfect.  Maybe the kids won’t help as much as I am hoping.  Maybe it will rain on Sunday.  I don’t care.  The most important ingredients are already here and complete.  My four kids are whole,  and healthy, and home.  I am blessed, and for the next two days,  I intend to honor this huge blessing in my life.  I will soak it in and let it nourish my soul.

 

 

 

On a side note, I have another reason to be happy.  My little boy puppy has been born!  He was born on Mothers Day.  :)  It was on Mothers Day that the girls and I decided on his name.  He will be named after one of my favorite things, Caribou Coffee.  The girls and I were standing in line Caribou Coffee and talking about the puppy (which we did not know had been born) when Lola said, “Caribou!  How about naming him Caribou, and we can call him Boo.”  We all agreed.  We knew.  Our puppy would be named Boo.  The next day, I received the call that Boo had been born.  I told T later that evening.  He hasn’t said much.  Maybe he is in denial,.  In about seven weeks, we will have a new member of the family.  I can’t wait!

 

 

 

 

Sweet Talkin’

I’m going to have to do a little bit of salesmanship (or saleswomanship) in the next few weeks.  T doesn’t know it yet, but there is going to be an addition to the family.  We are in the “family way.”  Our new addition is in utero.  He (yes, it’s a boy!) will be born in the next day or so.  I am so excited, but I’m afraid T won’t share my excitement.  I put a deposit down on a yet-to-be born puppy today.  His mommy is overdue, and I am excitedly awaiting his birth.

I’m a little fearful of what T will say when I tell him.  He once told me, “The only reason I will ever divorce you is if you bring another dog into this family.”  Hmmmm….  I am not doing this to upset T.  I’m doing this because I miss having a dog in my life.  Yes, I have Pepper Wondercat, but it’s not the same.  Pepper is a loving grouch.  He doesn’t perform like a dog.  He isn’t loyal like a dog.  Pepper is aloof.  After all, as dog-like as he is, Pepper is still just a cat.

I’ve had a series of pets in my life.  When I was a little girl, my mom once told me that I needed a house with a floor drain in the living room so I could just hose it down at the end of the day.  You see, I had a thing about bringing home strays.

When T and I were first married, we bought a giant standard poodle  and named him Abe.  He was a gentleman of dogs.  He laid by my side through bedridden pregnancies.  He tolerated curious babies.  He liked to wear human clothes while we laughed at him.  He wore red boots when he played in the yard so that he didn’t track mud into the house.  He was a figurehead of dogs.  He was with us for 15 years, and I still miss him.

After Abe, I brought other dogs into our life, and the results were not so good.  Hank was another standard poodle, and he was nothing like Abe.  Hank broke free from leashes.  He dashed in front of cars.  He was crazy.  If mental insanity is possible in a dog, Hank had it.  Eventually, we found a good farm home for Crazy Hank.

Next came Pete.  He was a beautiful dog who just happened to be blind in one eye.  Time after time, he would sail through the house playing with the kids and run straight into whatever happened to be on his right side.  Sadly, Pete developed epilepsy.  What a disturbing disease!  Pete had seizure after seizure until we found the right combination of medications.  Pete became a healthcare money pit.  For a time, we spent more money taking care of Pete’s medical needs than those of our children.  When little Lola came along, and she began to crawl after the dog, Pete’s seizures went out of control.  Eventually, I paid money to the no-kill shelter to find a quiet, subdued home for poor Pete.

We bought sweet Violet for Emily’s 10th birthday.  Violet was a bichon frise, and was truly a sweetheart.  When Violet was about a year old, she became sick.  Once again, T and I were spending more money on our pet than on our children.  Violet underwent a series of tests and medications until it was finally discovered that she had an advanced stage of bladder cancer.  She went downhill fast.  There were no surgical options left, and we had to put her to sleep.  T sat in the living room holding her on her last night while tears ran down his face.

Next came Henry.  He was an orange cat who had adopted us.  All summer Henry had sat with us around the campfires on the patio.  He made his way into our house and our hearts.  While none of us were partial to cats, Henry became part of the family.  When the summer turned to fall and the weather grew colder, the girls begged T to allow them to keep Henry in the house for the winter.  T relented, but told them that Henry would have to be neutered and declawed.  Shortly after T dropped Henry off at the vets office for surgery, I received a call.  Henry had died on the operating table.  The vet felt terrible.  He said that Henry must have been allergic to the anesthesia.  We had killed another pet!  Emily was at school that day, and I dreaded telling her about Henry.  We hadn’t even wanted a darn cat, and now he was dead.

That morning at work, my dear friend Tony showed up.  He had a little pet crate in his hand.  He said, “C’mon.  We’re going to go get your girls a cat.”  Off we went to the animal shelter.  We spent hours in the cat room at our local shelter meeting each cat.   Pepper Wondercat was the first cat to greet me.  He followed me from cat to cat as I checked out the prospects.  He made it clear that he was MY cat.  He’ s still with us five years later, and has become a wonderful member of the family.  Still, cats are aloof.  Cats are not goofy and cuddly like dogs.  I have missed having a silly, furry best friend.  Pepper needs a buddy, too.  As far as cats go, Pepper is a sweetheart.  He will love having a buddy to hang out with during the day.

T doesn’t share my love for pets.  He “tolerates” Pepper…although Pepper loves T.  Pep sleeps on T’s feet each night.  When T falls asleep in the chair, Pepper snuggles up on his lap.  T has been adamant about NO MORE PETS.  The girls and I have been talking a lot about a puppy, though, so T won’t be too shocked.

Our little boy won’t be ready to leave his biological mother for a couple of months.  I can’t wait!  Hopefully by then I’ll get the nerve up to tell T!

 

Kindle Me Happy

 

I question everything.  I seek understanding.  Until I have answers to my questions, my mind won’t shut up.  If I don’t understand something, especially the behavior of others, I mull it over and over until I am satisfied with their motives, reasons, or what is causing their behavior.  If someone snaps at me without cause, I try not to take it personally.  Instead, I want to help.  What has them upset?  What’s wrong?  What can I do to help?  Most times in my life, this has served me well.  My attempts to empathize and understand the behavior of those around me (and not take it personally) has given me a better understanding of myself and has kept conflict to a minimum.

 

The Exceptions to the Rule

For the most part, trying to understand the motives of others has been a great method of dealing with the people in my life.  However, this method doesn’t work at all when dealing with people who seem to operate under a different set of rules than the rest of us.  Be nice to people, and they will be nice to you.  Not true.  Treat people with kindness, and they will be kind to you.  Not true.

Thankfully, these exceptions to the rule are few and far between in my life.  Not so great is the fact that I have spent a GREAT DEAL of time these past few years trying to make sense of situations that make NO SENSE.  I have tried to apply my rules of reasoning to those who don’t follow the rules.  They don’t use the same guidebook for life that the rest of us use.  They operate under a different set of rules:  Their Own.  Those rules are ever-changing and self-serving.  They make up the rules as they go.  They make up the rules to suit themselves and whatever situation they are in on any given day.

 

Enter the iPad

About a month ago, I bought an iPad, and I’m still in that heady, falling in love stage.  I had no idea what I had been missing!  You’ve heard of  ”Better Than Sex Chocolate Cake?”  Well, I’m saying that my new iPad is right up there with sex!  Maybe not quite, but close.

One night not long ago, my iPad and I were cuddled up on the couch together at the end of a long and stressful day.  I was mindlessly surfing through free apps when I discovered that there is a Kindle app available for the iPad.  I immediately downloaded it and began to check out available books at Amazon.

As if by divine intervention, the book that popped up front and center was called “Emotional Vampires:  Dealing With People Who Drain You Dry,” by Albert Bernstein.

I can’t begin to say enough about how much this book has helped me to understand one simple fact.  Some people are beyond “understanding.”  They best thing we can do when we encounter such people is to run for cover, wear garlic around our neck, or hold up a wooden cross.  Basically, what this book has taught me is that when logic and reason seem to fail with certain people, move on.  The best thing we can do is to protect ourselves, and that means distancing ourselves from such people.  That’s it.  Some people will take and take without regard until we have nothing left to give.  Then they will walk away and find someone else willing to give and give until that person, too, has had enough.  It’s a pattern.  These people are missing some essential element of humanness.  It’s all about THEM, and heaven help you if you get in their way.

 

Privacy to Heal

The best part about my iPad/Kindle discovery is the privacy of reading.  Look at the book jacket pictured above.  There is NO WAY that I could sit in the living room with my family and read such a book without eliciting questions.  ”Why are you reading that!?”  ”What’s wrong?”  ”Is that about me???”  Of course, I would think the same thing if I were to see my husband or one of the kids reading a book with that title.  Thankfully, my husband and kids are the people who lift me up…not drain me dry.

No Shades of Gray

When I was a young(er) woman, I often used my great-grandparents as my mental guides.

Hazel and Clifford were a wonderful, happy part of my childhood.  They lived on the family farm where Grandpa’s own Great-Grandparent’s had lived.  To me, it seemed like they had been there forever, almost like characters out of a fairytale.  Great-Grandma was a tiny, little woman who always wore a dress, old-fashioned lace-up boots, and a smile.  She taught me how to gather eggs.  I can see her bending down before me, the bun in her hair streaked with gray.  She may have been old, but her eyes were youthful and sparkled with merriment.

She and Great-Grandpa were content.  They joked, teased, and cajoled each other.  They were what we would now call “grounded.”  They had their place and they were pleased with their lives.  Everything seemed to fit.  They didn’t endlessly question the choices they had made in their lives.  They knew what each day would bring, and that knowledge brought them comfort, strength, and peace.  Gather the eggs in the morning.  Do the chores.  Prepare a big noontime meal for the men who had been up early and out working on the farm since before the sun was up.

On Sundays, they walked to the family church to worship, and then they had a day filled with hearty food and lots of family.  There was always a big, china platter piled high with fried chicken.  Great-Grandma’s famous chocolate cake would be waiting on the sideboard.  Sunday was the day when the old folks passed the family history down to the younger generation.  Babies were passed from knee to knee.  Sunday was the day when everything stopped.  Nothing mattered but being together and remembering what the hard work was really all about.  I feel blessed that I was one of the babies who was passed from knee to knee.  I came in at the tail-end of an era.  I experienced “days gone by” firsthand.

Great-Grandma died when I was ten years old, and Great-Grandpa never really stopped grieving that loss.  He never lost his smile or the twinkle in his eyes.  He simply became more gentle as if to make up for her absence in our lives.  He spoke of her lovingly and often.  She was never far from his mind.

T loves old guys.  He loved Great-Grandpa, and they became very close.  I am so thankful that they were able to know and love each other.  It comforts me that T and I share these family connections.  We spent many hours walking around the farm, looking through the attic or the basement as the old farmer told T one story after another.  Grandpa would show T antique tools, old pictures, or farm implements complete with hours of real-life stories.

Often through the years, I have thought of Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa when I have had uncertainty in my life.  I have often thought, “What would Grandma and Grandpa do?”   In raising my children, I tried to emulate their simple, family oriented lifestyle.  The important things in life could not be bought.  What the neighbors had, what they were doing, or where they going were not the guiding forces in my life.  Pride in a  job well done or an act of kindness was much more important than public accolades or impressing those around me.

Somewhere along the line, I lost sight of those simple guidelines in my life.  It happened gradually.  Something, somewhere shifted along the way.  I have lost sight of these two guiding forces in my life.  They have probably been there all along, shaking their heads in sadness as I veered and swerved off of the straight path they had paved before me.

The Intimacy of Sleeping

When I was a little girl, I hated to wake and find someone/anyone looking at me.  If I was home sick from school, I was uncomfortable if my mother peeked into my room to check on me.  I hated it if my parents would go out for an evening and come in my room to check on me late at night when they returned.  Waking to find someone looking at me, even in love and caring, was upsetting to me.  It made me feel vulnerable, weak, and helpless.  Sleep was private.  It was something I preferred to do alone, unbothered, and uninterrupted.

My wedding night was the first night I ever, ever shared a bed to sleep with anyone.  In our five years of dating prior to our marriage, we had never spent a single night together….ever.  Before you laugh, no, I was not a virgin.  The bed had been used for sex many, many times, but like a good girl, I always went back to my parents’ home for my night’s sleep.  On the night of our wedding, we went back to our apartment before leaving the next day for our honeymoon.  I don’t think I got a wink of sleep that night.  Here he was, this boy I had just married, and he was sleeping next to me.  It was so distracting to have another body in my bed.  I couldn’t relax enough to allow myself to sleep.  He made noises as he slept.  I didn’t want him to wake up first and see me sleeping!  What if he tried to kiss me, and I had morning breath?  All night, my mind raced.  I believe I was up, showered, and dressed before he was even awake.  :)

In the early years of our marriage, we didn’t spend many nights in the same bed.  Maybe it was due to the fact that I grew up as an only child, but I needed complete quiet; I needed my “space” to be able to sleep.  In our early years, before the kids came along, we often started out in the same bed, but at some point in the night, T would leave and go into the guest bedroom to sleep.  We were a couple of twenty year old newlyweds who had separate bedrooms!  Believe it or not, but it was not a cause for alarm or strife for us.  So what if we didn’t sleep together?  We were happy with our arrangement.

Somewhere along the line, things changed.  Once the kids came along, more often than not, our bed became the family bed.  Our bed became a place not only for sexual intimacy, but a place of spiritual and familial intimacy, too.  T and I both loved the middle of the night newborn baby feedings.  Thankfully, all of our kids slept through the night at an early age, and we were able to treasure the first couple of months of middle of the night feedings.  T would bring the baby to the bed, and I would groggily breastfeed while he and I marveled at out new creation.  During those times, our bed felt like a magical island of warmth and happiness.  Often, we would snuggle the little one between us and drift back to sleep.

When our little surprise, Lola, came along ten years after we thought we were done with such things, we acknowledged the gift we were receiving to once again be able to have those special middle of the night experiences.  We kept her bassinet in our room to the point where we had to practically crunch her up to fit her inside the little bed.  When she was big enough to giggle and pull herself up over the side to look at Mommy and Daddy, we knew it was time to let go and allow her to have her own big girl bed.  Yet, I couldn’t let go completely.  Each afternoon, Lola and I would snuggle up on Mommy and Daddy’s bed for our afternoon nap.  I cherish the memories of afternoon naps with my sweaty little toddler. I was hooked.  I had finally become a communal sleeper.

Four kids, two adults, and three bedrooms has meant that T and I have had no choice but to learn to share the same space as we sleep.  Believe me, it hasn’t always been easy, but we eventually began to establish a routine of blankets, pillows, and limb placement that has become a comfort to us both.  My knee against his thigh, his hand around my ankle, my hand tucked under his shoulder.  We call it “sleep position.”

As the years have passed, I have become quite indifferent to being caught asleep.  T and I often fall asleep in the living room now and are roused by one of the kids telling us to head up to bed.  Our living room couch has a hypnotic quality, and I am quickly lulled to sleep whenever I plop down at the end of the day.  It isn’t uncommon for me to be found sleeping on that hypnotic couch, with a cat on top of me, and a kid draped across my legs.  Group sleeping has become my preferred mode of relaxation.  I dread the day when I may eventually find myself alone.  I don’t want “time to myself,” especially when it comes to sleeping time.

Last weekend, the boys were back home for a visit.  Luke, our history major, turned on a Revolutionary War documentary very late one night after returning home from visiting friends.  T and I sat up with him for a while just to chat and enjoy his company.  Eventually, T drifted off to bed, but I stayed on the couch with Luke.  I miss Luke when he’s away at school, and these quiet moments with my son are few and far between.  I can’t even begin to describe how much I cherish these visits and the rare moments when I can once again have my son all to myself.   My little boy with the big blue eyes is all grown up now and stands over a foot taller than me.  When I look at him, I can still see the sweet little boy who soaked in the world around him like a sponge.  He’s still does that.  He is my world-observer.

Eventually, I woke up, and we were still there on the couch.  It was 3:00 a.m.  He and I had fallen asleep shoulder to shoulder on the couch.  The documentary was over, and the TV was blank.  I sat there for a moment before I woke him up to go to bed.  I savored the moment and the intimacy of sleep.  Comfort and contentment washed over me.  It was a perfect moment, and I am thankful that I was able to recognize it as such.  In the moments just after awakening, I knew peace clear, deep down into my soul.  I felt love filling my entire body, and happiness, and pride, and all of the things that a mother feels knowing she has raised a fine, fine young man.

I woke him up and sent him on his way upstairs to bed while I padded around making sure that the house was secure for the night.  When I climbed into bed, T instinctively made room for me in “sleeping position.”  His hand went around my ankle, and my knee was up against his thigh.  I laid there marveling at the changes the years have brought, and I wondered if I would ever be able to sleep alone.

Humbling

Prior to my  recent trip to Baltimore, T suggested that I contact an old school friend of ours who lived near where I would be staying.  We all grew up together.   Jim and T were best friends during high school.  We have once again connected with him though Facebook.  Although I had not communicated with  him personally, I decided to take T’s suggestion.  I sent Jim  a message telling him about my trip to his city and T’s suggestion that I look him up while I was in town.  Jim responded that he would love to get together.  Unfortunately, he had previous plans to be in New York City during most of my visit to Baltimore.  I responded, and told him not to worry about it.  I gave him my cell number just in case he returned home while I was still in town.  I really didn’t expect to hear from him.

Yesterday was the last day of the conference.  The weather was lovely, and I decided to spend some time exploring the city.  I was craving a good cup of coffee, and I used my GPS to locate a Caribou about two miles from my hotel.  No problem. I decided to skip a session and head across town.  After all, I was there to study downtown revitalization, so the walk would be a great opportunity to see what was going on in another downtown!  The two mile walk was great.  The coffee was wonderful!  I could have done without the two mile walk back to the conference center, though.

I attended a final educational session, and headed back to my room to rest a little and get ready for the festivities that evening.  We were going to a party at the B &O Railroad Museum.  As I was changing for the dinner, my phone rang.  I was surprised to hear Jim’s voice, still the same some thirty years later.  He wondered if I had time for dinner and drinks.  I told him that I had plans for dinner, but would be back at the hotel by  9:00 if that wasn’t too late for him.  He said that would work out fine, and we agreed to meet later in the lobby and go from there.

The party at the railroad museum was a blast.  The food was regional favorites, and then a local band got everyone out on the dance floor.  By the time we arrived back at the hotel, I would have happily gone straight up to bed.  Instead, I rushed up to my room to freshen up for round two.  When I got back down to the lobby, I called Jim to see if he was there yet.  He said he was right outside of the main entrance, and then I saw him.  A huge, happy, genuine smile spread across my face.  I was still talking to him on my phone as I ran up to him and squeezed him hard.  ”Still as goofy as ever,” he said.

He was older, of course, but still the same in so many ways, and I was flooded with memories, so many memories all at the same time.  I remembered Jim, T, and other boys  during our childhood summers riding on their bikes, playing Ghost in the Graveyard, swimming at the local pool.  I remembered parties from high school, and Jim’s prized car.   I could see it vividly for a moment in clear detail.

We grabbed a cab and headed to the Mount Vernon district to one of Jim’s favorite hangouts.  It was an awesome location in an ancient stone building.  There was a restaurant on the main level, but the best part of all was down below.  We took the steep exterior stairs down to the basement.  Jim smiled as he awaited my reaction to the most fabulous dive bar I had ever seen.  The walls were brick and the lighting was so dim it was difficult to see.  The arched doorways separated rooms bare of anything but crude, shabby, mismatched tables and chairs.  I felt like I had stepped back in time 200 years.  It was the perfect choice.  Jim knew his stuff, though.  He’s an architect who specializes in historic preservation projects.

 Time went by too quickly as we sat talking and reminiscing.  Several times, we sent texts to T to include him in the conversation. Once we were almost ready to leave, but we said, “One more drink…”. While we waited for our drinks, Jim asked me if I would step  outside and share a smoke with him.    Yes, we two old people were having a good time, two small town kids from the Midwest sharing a smoke in Baltimore.  This was some kind of special, organically grown cigarette (no, not that kind of special!)  and Jim sent home a pack for his old buddy, T.

We sat laughing, talking, and remembering our time as kids when I realized that my phone was gone.  We looked around in the area where we were sitting.  We stepped back outside and looked around.  Finally, we gave up.  Jim speculated that some shady-looking guys who had been sitting near us must have taken it from where I had set it on the bar.

As we rode in a cab back to the hotel, I used Jim’s phone to call T and let him know that my phone had been lost.  It wasn’t a big deal.  I could still communicate through email.  While I hated the hassle of losing my phone, I certainly didn’t intend to make a big deal out of it.  It was just a phone.  Later, T called my room to tell me that he had suspended service on that line.  I will admit that it did feel very strange to be so far from home without a phone.

I didn’t sleep well.  I was too worn out, had way too much to drink, and I was worried that I wouldn’t hear my alarm.  Finally around 6:45 a.m., 5:45 my time!, I was up for good.  I fired up my iPad, and watched a couple of episodes of King of the Hill, my go-to show for comfort and relaxation.  Just as I was getting ready to get in the shower, T called.  Someone named Kate had called him.  She had my phone!  He gave me her number, and I immediately called her.  She seemed like a nice young woman.  She said that she had called T because he was the most recent number called on the phone she had found.  I told her that I had to leave soon to catch a plane and asked her if it would be possible to get my phone from her right away.  She said that wouldn’t be a problem, and I offered to pay for a cab to take her to my hotel.

Twenty minutes later, I met Kate in front of the hotel.  She was young, about as old as Andrew, in her early 20′s.  She seemed stunned when I hugged her,  and at first she refused to take the $20 I pressed into her hand.  I had tears in my eyes.  I told her to please take the money.  I told her that I would be so proud if one of my kids would make such an effort to be kind to a stranger.  I was so humbled and so moved.  For hours, I was near tears that someone, a stranger, had shown me such kindness.  The world is still a good place.  People DO still care about their fellow man.

I had plenty of time to think of the plane ride home.  I thought of life, the journeys we all make, weaving and navigating our way through one experience after another.  Despair, loss, pain, triumph, laughter, love, and memories, all of these things make up our lives.  We are up, and then we are down.  Yet most of us continue to plod along with hope in our hearts.  We have purpose.  Life has meaning.  Our experiences often leave us wondering what this journey of life is all about.  Often, we feel like we are alone on our paths.  What does it all mean?

It is these moments of human connection that keep us pressing on against the wind.  Meeting an old friend and sharing smiles and memories, the kind actions of a stranger, these are the things that make up a life.  These are the things that we know, treasure, and cherish in our hearts.  These are the things of value.

Need a Refill

I don’t even know what to write about.  All I know is that it helps me to write.

I’m traveling again, and I am lonely.  This is a trip that I’ve taken too many times.  I am at the state capitol for a legislative forum.  While I know that this is important, I also know that I have more important things going on locally.  More immediate issues require my attention.  I have brought staff along with me on this trip so that I can hole up in my hotel room and work from my laptop.  I wish that I could have stayed home, but the bureaucracy I am part of requires that I attend this forum. I tried my best to delay my appearance for an additional day, but that same bureaucracy won’t allow my staff members to drive an official car.  I could have asked them to take one of their personal vehicles, but I just couldn’t.  Even though they would have been reimbursed, it didn’t feel right to ask.  So I drove the official car.   It feels like I am their mother chauffeuring them on a field trip.  They are excited, and I’m happy to see that at least.

I’m tired, worn out,  and stressed out.  My day did not start well.  Nothing particularly bad happen, but as usual, it was the things that didn’t happen that made me feel sad.  T, the girls, and I have a regular morning routine.  Everybody goes about their business getting ready for work or school.  We all do our own thing and stay out of each other’s way.  I was upstairs dressing when I heard the back door slam shut.  They were gone.  No one had said goodbye.  I was leaving on a trip for three days.  I didn’t even want to be going, and yet, they didn’t seem to remember or care.  When I heard the door close, I stood there for a moment thinking, “My God.  They are all gone, and they won’t even miss me.  I am not important to anyone at all.”  It was such a lonely feeling.  Yes, I’m glad that my absence doesn’t cause anyone anguish or stress, but I’d like to think that I might be missed just a little bit.  :(

I took a few minutes and pulled myself together, then I called T.  ”You didn’t even say goodbye.”  In fact, we hadn’t said one word to each other all morning.  He had gotten out of bed before me and headed downstairs.  When I had gone down for a cup of  coffee, he had been in the bathroom.  Two ships, silently passing, but not crossing paths.  He seemed stunned, and said, “I forgot you were going to be taking a trip.”  He forgot!!!  HE FORGOT!  My suitcase was packed and sitting in the corner of the bedroom, but he had forgotten that I was leaving.  For a moment, I wished that I hadn’t called him.  I wondered how long it would have taken any of them to realize that I was missing.  Of course, he apologized.  He blamed the busy morning routine.  He blamed the stress of work.  He said that he had been thinking about all he had going later that day.  Sure, I understand that, but it still didn’t feel very good.

I drove to work in silence.  I looked out across the fields.  I missed my dad.  I wished that I could call him.  Whenever I had been lonely, he had been there for me with a smile in his voice.  He had always been happy to have me in his life, and I miss that feeling.  I don’t feel special or important to anyone these days.  Yep, I’m feeling sorry for myself.  I miss being someone’s first thought, not everyone’s afterthought.

When I got to the office, my desk was messy and piled high with papers, files, folders, and binders.  Emails were in the inbox.  The light was flashing on the phone.  People were waiting to talk to me.  I had loose ends to tie up from an event on Saturday.  I had to get ready for this trip.  I felt overwhelmed, and I once again wondered what in the hell I am doing with my life!  I sat down behind my desk and stared at the screen.  I didn’t even know where to begin.

Once again, I am stretched to my limit.  I have too much to do and too little time.  I will be here working alone in this room all day tomorrow, and it’s a really crappy hotel.  It stinks.  It’s ugly, and the bed is uncomfortable.  (Hence the late night/early morning blogging!)  This hotel is an example of a historic renovation project that is a big-time fail!  Tomorrow night will be full of networking (which I am tired of!) and socializing (which I don’t give a darn about!)  The one redeeming factor is a workshop on Wednesday being presented by a friend who knows her stuff.

Thursday and Friday, I’ll be back in the office.  Those two days are packed to the brim.  I have tried to schedule as much as possible on those days, because on Saturday I leave again for a week.  I’m heading to Baltimore to attend a conference.  This is a trip that I am both dreading and anticipating.  I’m tired, and I want to stay home.  BUT….I so looking forward to seeing a friend that I have dearly missed.  My dear friend, Rosemary, from Georgia will be meeting me.  Rosemary and I met at a conference in Chicago in 2008.  She’s a gem.  She is one of those fine people who never make you regret allowing them a place in your life or in your heart.

As I soaked in the tub tonight, I thought about my day.  There hadn’t much enjoyment.  The day had been busy as hell.  My day began at 6:00 a.m. and ended after 10:00 p.m.  I had talked to a lot of people, done a lot of things, and driven a lot of miles, but had I actually accomplished anything?  Had any of the interactions been rewarding?  Had any of the work really mattered?  I felt like a cog in a wheel.  I am just part of a machine….just doing my part, functioning, an automaton.    Once again, I wished for a hug.  That’s it.  I just wanted kindness, tenderness, and caring.  I wished for a hug.  That seems like a pretty simple request, a basic need, and yet….I could not remember the last time I had been held by another human being.

Is this it?  Is this what my life is, has become, will continue to be?  What would happen if I stopped?  Would anyone notice then?  What if I sat down and said, “No, I’m not going to Springfield or Chicago or Baltimore.  No, I’m not going to cook or clean or respond to emails or answer the phone.  Nope, I refuse to move until someone hugs me!”   Certainly, I would lose my job.  Of course, that isn’t what I want.  Normally, I love my work, it is just lately that it all seems to mean very little.  The responsibility is being heaped on more quickly than the rewards.  I am running on empty, and I need a refill soon…

You get what you put in, and people get what they deserve.

Still I ain’t seen mine…no I ain’t seen mine.

I’ve been giving, but just ain’t been gettin’.

I’ve been walkin that thin line.

So I think I’ll keep a walking with my head held high.

I’ll keep movin’ on, and only God knows why.

~~ Kid Rock

The Theme For This Year…

 

Last Sunday was the first time that I have felt truly relaxed in so many months.  I was relaxed in a way that I knew wasn’t going to be quickly snatched away from me.  I wasn’t stealing a moment.  I wasn’t supposed to be doing something else.  I wasn’t on my way to someplace.  I simply was.  It was genuine and comforting.

T and I were on our way home from a pleasant trip to Milwaukee.  We had an hour behind us and several hours in front of us.  The kids were all happy and accounted for.  The weather was perfect, and the sun was shining.  We were driving in the new car and enjoying the heck out of it.  The sunroof was open, and music was blasting.  I felt safe, and I felt relaxed.

Feeling calm and happy has become a foreign sensation.  Turmoil, fear, stress, inadequacy, guilt, and worry…those are the things that have become familiar.  It is only now that things are beginning to settle down that I realize the full impact of the events of the past two years.  I certainly haven’t have many moments that were calm, peaceful, or full of contentment.  Feeling bad had become the “new normal.”

It has felt like I have been uncoiling a tangled mess of yarn in the weeks since my mother’s death.  Sometimes I make progress, and then the frustration sets in again, and I have to walk away from the “untangling.”  I have had to learn to give myself permission to have a few unhappy days from time to time.  I hate the phrase, “two steps forward; one step back,” but that’s how the past couple of months have been.

I see the path that I’m on, but sometimes I plop right down in the middle of the road,  and I’m not able to go any further until I gather up a little more strength. During those times, I am stop looking forward down the path, but instead, I look behind me at all that has been lost and all that has changed.  I suppose that’s called mourning.

It is during these times when I feel that I am lacking progress when I find that I have actually taken some of the biggest steps.  The setbacks are often followed by incredible strides in a positive direction.

One difficult night recently, I found myself unable to sleep.  I was tucked in and comfortable, but my mind was racing.  I had a bad case of the “what if’s.”  As I lay there mulling over things that are beyond my control, I imaged these negative thoughts as a nugget lodged in my brain.  The thoughts were like a popcorn hull stuck between two teeth.  They were irritating me, and I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of them.  The thoughts were out of place, and their magnitude had grown out of proportion.  All of my energy and focus was clustered around this nugget of thought.  It felt dark, ominous, and oppressive.

I felt my entire body bending toward these thoughts.  Once again, I thought of the tangled mess of yarn, and I knew that it was once again my job to untangle myself.   I took a deep breath.  It was up to me.  I was the one in charge here.  “Let it go.”  Seems easy, huh?  Easy in theory, but difficult in practice.

I closed my eyes and tried to irradiate the negative, unwanted thoughts.  I saw the them as a tight, black cluster, and it reminded me of a leafless tree hosting a flock of birds, ominous, busy, and loud.  And then I did it.  I imagined the birds taking flight.  Up, weightlessly lifting, and I felt my body begin to relax and unbend from the thoughts.

I am learning to let go.