I recently posted a picture on Facebook, of a frog (or toad) that chose to grace the wall outside my front door. I had some laughs with my friends, and we looked up the folklore concerning frogs among different cultures. There were also a lot of "Prince Charming" comments. Considering the fairy tales that most of us grew up watching and listening to, it was certainly a logical turn for the conversation to take.
My own "Prince Charming" tale led me to believe, WAY BEFORE the marriage was over, that Don Henley was SO VERY RIGHT, and we HAVE been poisoned by these fairy tales. We grew up being told by our parents, and our grandparents, and Walt Disney, that if we wish hard enough, and behave in JUST the right way, some day, our prince will come. Considering how many unions actually end badly, I think it's safe to say that a lot of us make mistakes. The "Prince" turns out to be not quite as "princely" as we had hoped, and many of the "princesses" don't hold up their end of the bargain either. But I will tell you my theory on exactly why these tragic endings occur. No matter how many relationships go the distance, those fortunate, "happily ever after" success stories don't happen because somebody was "Prince Charming". Want to know how I know?
It's because THAT FUCKER IS DEAD.
There is NO SUCH THING as Prince Fucking Charming.
I wish I could describe to you how badly I want to shout that from the mountain tops!
There are LOTS of people who find love, and those couples will grow old together, and hold hands, and welcome children, and grandchildren. The very lucky ones will be around to share in the joy of great grandchildren. But there are lots of people who are NOT so lucky. I'm not even sure that "lucky" is the term I want to apply here, because some folks NEVER find a partner with whom they will share a life. Does that mean they have FAILED at life?
I follow a lot of Facebook pages that post uplifting and inspirational photos and quotes. I enjoy feeling uplifted by their positivity as opposed to only seeing the negative posts of all the "offended" Facebookers. I do my best to scroll past the petty and constantly complaining posts that will sometimes dominate my newsfeed. But lately, I find myself feeling perplexed by some of the posts that tend to have a "fairy tale" feel. There are suggestions that I "just haven't found him yet". Or "the love of your life is out there somewhere".
But what if he's not?
What if THIS is all there is?
What if I had my chance, and I blew it?
Ten years ago, the very idea that I might spend the rest of my life alone would have devastated me. I might've needed medication for the anxiety I would've felt at the idea of NOT growing old with "the love of my life". So much has changed since then, and I have to tell you, if nobody else ever comes along, THAT'S FUCKING FINE BY ME!!
I wish my parents would stop looking at me with sympathy. I wish my brothers would stop wracking their brains, trying to think of which of their single friends they want to fix me up with. I wish people would stop suggesting which online dating sites I should explore. Who wants to deal with that shit?!!
For the first time in my life, I am in charge of EVERY...SINGLE...THING I want to do. Finances (or lack, thereof) may dictate most of what I CAN'T do, but nobody else gets to tell me where I should go, what I should be doing, or what time I have to go home. I am seriously DRUNK with power over my own life right now.
I may be living on the balls of my ass at the moment, and as some people have suggested, it sure would be nice to meet someone who I could spend some time with, maybe go out once in a while to see a movie or go out for dinner, and who maybe wouldn't mind sharing the bills. But I have absolutely NO INTENTION of setting myself up on a mission to seek out some mystical "Prince Charming", so I can feel lost, lonely, and like I have somehow failed when it doesn't happen. Frankly, I think we fail ourselves when we put the responsibility of our future happiness in the hands of an IDEA of who we're supposed to end up with, as suggested by a cartoon. That's not fair. It's not fair to put that much pressure on a future partner, and it's surely not fair to set such an impossibly high bar for ourselves.
The reality is, I would love to be a part of a couple. It's been such a long time since I have FELT like a partner, the road has sometimes been really lonely. But walking this quiet road, with only my own thoughts and hopes to keep me company, I have learned something invaluable.
I LOVE myself.
It has taken me all of these 50+ years to realize that no one in my life could make me happy, because ONLY I can make that happen. When I finally stopped trying to be the person SOMEONE ELSE needed me to be, and learned to feel comfortable in exactly who I am, I finally learned what it was to be TRULY HAPPY.
If someday I should meet someone who doesn't mind dealing with all the crazy and dark places in my head that come from being hurt and betrayed, (and THAT will be the topic of my next post...), I'm certainly not closing my heart to the possibility of finding love again. But knowing with all my heart that there is no mythical being out there who will come and "save" me, and that the success of any future relationship will depend completely on an equal investment of dedication from TWO partners, gives me a better chance at succeeding in a future bond. But more importantly than that, I am perfectly content with my own company, and will never feel like I am somehow "less than", or "incomplete" because I am not half of a couple. I am COMPLETE, all by myself. Do you have any idea how freeing that realization is?
Now that I have reached a place on my life's journey where I am perfectly happy with who I am, and will never again feel like being single is the worst thing that could ever have happened to me, my only mission is to make sure my children know their own worth, and that THEY never feel like they are doing something "wrong" because their lives don't measure up to an archaic idea of "happily ever after". I have had a longtime ban on anything "Cinderella" in this house. It really doesn't matter though, because that same fantasy is endorsed in so many other components of life. Television, movies, music...all full of suggestions that "true love" is the answer to all of life's problems. I would say that was all wrong, except it isn't, because when we realize that true love of SELF is the key to finding happiness in this life, THAT'S when true love wins. Only then can we be successful in sharing ourselves on the way to "happily ever after" with another person. Or not. If I manage to successfully drill that into my kids, at the very least by setting an example of it, then I will someday die
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Saturday, May 9, 2015
My Mother Is A Superbitch, And I Couldn't Be More Proud
As we celebrate Mother's Day, I felt it necessary to pay tribute to my own mother.
My mom comes from a big family. She grew up with four sisters and one brother. She was number 4 in the chronological lineup, and because one of the older siblings was the only brother, my mom was a true middle child. She wasn't the oldest...(the leader), wasn't the youngest, (the spoiled brat), but she was lost, right smack in the middle of the bunch. She was always well behaved, did well in school, and wanted nothing more in her childhood life than to please her mother.
Her dad, who I have never heard a kind word about, died when she was eight years old. From the eight years she knew him, she doesn't have a single happy memory of him. He was a bartender, and often came home drunk, accusing his wife of running around with other men, and often showing her why she shouldn't. She never was, of course. But sometimes, when a person is guilty of betraying the one they are supposed to love, they can try to alleviate their own guilt by projecting it onto the very one they have betrayed.
Because he worked nights, he slept during the day. The house had to be quiet so he could sleep. NOBODY wanted to interrupt his sleep. But in a house with six children, quiet is not an easy feat. On the days he was disturbed, God help the one who was in his line of vision. Very often, it was my mother.
She went to school with terrible bruises on the backs of her legs...so bad, that her brother would often walk behind her, to hide what happened when daddy's sleep was disrupted. He couldn't keep the beatings from happening, but he could keep his sister from feeling ashamed if anyone were to see. He was a good brother.
When my grandfather died in a tragic accident, my mother's youngest sister was only a year old. He died on her first birthday. I'm pretty sure my mother felt nothing but relief when he passed away. She doesn't talk about it much, and when she does, she looks completely unnerved, as if she feels guilty for never having missed him.
Mom spent the rest of her childhood trying to please her mother. My Nana worked hard, having to earn a living to feed six kids, and as each child became of age to get a job, they each did, and helped with the household expenses. Once my mom was old enough to work, she brought home every paycheck, and handed it all right over to Nana. Nana never dated. She never found someone to help her. She never took a moment for herself, to even try to find love for herself. She focused completely on taking care of her kids. She raised them on the straight and narrow, and grew them into responsible adults. (So much for the runaround hussy Grandpa tried to make her out to be!)
Fast forward to the time when my parents meet, fall in love, get married...all on the way to "happily ever after"...
My dad came into the marriage already divorced, and with a four year old son. My parents took custody of my brother, and I came along next. Then every two years, a brother, a brother and a sister. So five kids in our happy home. Five...wild...wacky kids.
We all got into our fair share of trouble. My mother beat the crap out of us, with whatever household apparatus she could grab quickly...a shoe, a belt, a wooden spoon, a hot wheels track, (those bitches hurt like a...well, a bitch!)...back then, that was how you handled unruly children. She had an almost boomarang-like slipper, and none of us wanted to piss her off when she was standing close to the silverware. We all learned a million lessons, and whatever emotional scars we took away from it all, they were nothing compared to the strength we gained from how much she loved us.
Besides the military style discipline, my mom enjoyed every minute of the fun stuff she gave us. We didn't have much money, but mom always found a way to make things special. She did crafty stuff with us, she cut our sandwiches into holiday themed shapes, she was the Brownie troop leader, she got all the boys to baseball games and practices, let me take guitar lessons at the afterschool center, and made me a candy covered corsage for every birthday. We had special weekend mornings, when we would sit together, drinking tea and eating fresh baked corn muffins with butter and jelly. Sometimes, we would stay up late, and play cards, while we snacked on cold cereal. When I think of those times, I can close my eyes and smell the Cocoa Puffs.
In addition to raising her own five kids, she often had her nieces and nephews with us. As all four of her sisters went through divorce, (one of them 3 times), and headed into the full-time work force, my mom often helped out with summertime child care, and she would be with us all in the yard from right after breakfast, (and making us all clean up the house, make our beds, and whatever else needed to be done), until the moon was high overhead, and our fingers and toes were deeply "pruned". And even though we didn't have much, I always compare her attitude about having extra family to feed, to a line from a song in "Oliver Twist"..."Who cares? What...ever we got, we share!"
I entered my teens, and became a rebel. The stories of my adolescence are definitely the subject of another post, but let's just say, I was NOT an easy teenager. Even after I moved out at almost 18, and spent some time not speaking to my mom, she has always been the "constant" in my life. There was NEVER a time I really needed her and she wasn't there. She told me when I was wrong, and then she told me she loved me anyway.
When I was 18, and I was in the hosptal with a ruptured ovarian cyst, my mother never left my side. When I broke her heart and moved to Texas with my boyfriend, and then a year later, I called her to say he had given me two black eyes for Easter, and I think this was a mistake, she held back her "told ya so" until much later, and she bought me a plane ticket home. When I moved in with that bartender with the gorgeous blue eyes and a motorcycle, she cringed, and still invited him for holiday dinners. When, after seven years together, I told her she was going to be a Nana, and NO, I wouldn't be marrying him right now, she was with me every step of the way. When my boy was four months old, and I told my mom I didn't want to raise my baby with this drunken, cheating asshole anymore, she said, "Come home". Throughout my 22 years wth MAC, she has been there for every important moment...for the good and the bad. Now that I'm on my own again, she is still the one person I know will always be there for me.
Now, don't get me wrong...my mom has made plenty of mistakes. She is crazy as the day is long, and could give lessons in how to be a superbitch. She tends to overanalyze everything, she takes everything personally, and uses anger as a shield when she feels hurt. She was a scapegoat for all her father's anger, and even though he's been gone for over 65 years, she carries a deep defensiveness everywhere she goes because of it. She is insanely jealous, and God help my poor father if he happens to be looking up when a pretty girl walks in the room. And God help the woman who has her hands on my dad or a few seconds too long. Mom would give her left arm to help someone in need, but if you hurt one of her loved ones, she would just as soon cut you without blinking. And even at almost 74 years of age, my mother is NOT a woman to be trifled with. If you ever see her eyes widen, her jaw move forward, and that deep crease between her eyebrows appear, just run.
My mother may have given us our fair share of beatings as kids, but all five of us would kill for her. And dysfunctional as we are, because of how she raised us, we would kill for each other, too. We have a fierce bond because of how she raised us. In a family of five kids, there is something to be said for that kind of loyalty.
There are so many individual stories I could tell to honor my mother, but I think the best way to show my gratitude for all she has done for me, is to continue being the very best mother I possibly can be. Because of my mother, I know that even though I will make mistakes, there is nothing on this planet I wouldn't do for my kids. And my kids know that. And they know I can go from zero to superbitch if they screw up, and I will hold them accountable. So I guess they can thank Nana. And I can thank her. Thanks, mom.
My mom comes from a big family. She grew up with four sisters and one brother. She was number 4 in the chronological lineup, and because one of the older siblings was the only brother, my mom was a true middle child. She wasn't the oldest...(the leader), wasn't the youngest, (the spoiled brat), but she was lost, right smack in the middle of the bunch. She was always well behaved, did well in school, and wanted nothing more in her childhood life than to please her mother.
Her dad, who I have never heard a kind word about, died when she was eight years old. From the eight years she knew him, she doesn't have a single happy memory of him. He was a bartender, and often came home drunk, accusing his wife of running around with other men, and often showing her why she shouldn't. She never was, of course. But sometimes, when a person is guilty of betraying the one they are supposed to love, they can try to alleviate their own guilt by projecting it onto the very one they have betrayed.
Because he worked nights, he slept during the day. The house had to be quiet so he could sleep. NOBODY wanted to interrupt his sleep. But in a house with six children, quiet is not an easy feat. On the days he was disturbed, God help the one who was in his line of vision. Very often, it was my mother.
She went to school with terrible bruises on the backs of her legs...so bad, that her brother would often walk behind her, to hide what happened when daddy's sleep was disrupted. He couldn't keep the beatings from happening, but he could keep his sister from feeling ashamed if anyone were to see. He was a good brother.
When my grandfather died in a tragic accident, my mother's youngest sister was only a year old. He died on her first birthday. I'm pretty sure my mother felt nothing but relief when he passed away. She doesn't talk about it much, and when she does, she looks completely unnerved, as if she feels guilty for never having missed him.
Mom spent the rest of her childhood trying to please her mother. My Nana worked hard, having to earn a living to feed six kids, and as each child became of age to get a job, they each did, and helped with the household expenses. Once my mom was old enough to work, she brought home every paycheck, and handed it all right over to Nana. Nana never dated. She never found someone to help her. She never took a moment for herself, to even try to find love for herself. She focused completely on taking care of her kids. She raised them on the straight and narrow, and grew them into responsible adults. (So much for the runaround hussy Grandpa tried to make her out to be!)
Fast forward to the time when my parents meet, fall in love, get married...all on the way to "happily ever after"...
My dad came into the marriage already divorced, and with a four year old son. My parents took custody of my brother, and I came along next. Then every two years, a brother, a brother and a sister. So five kids in our happy home. Five...wild...wacky kids.
We all got into our fair share of trouble. My mother beat the crap out of us, with whatever household apparatus she could grab quickly...a shoe, a belt, a wooden spoon, a hot wheels track, (those bitches hurt like a...well, a bitch!)...back then, that was how you handled unruly children. She had an almost boomarang-like slipper, and none of us wanted to piss her off when she was standing close to the silverware. We all learned a million lessons, and whatever emotional scars we took away from it all, they were nothing compared to the strength we gained from how much she loved us.
Besides the military style discipline, my mom enjoyed every minute of the fun stuff she gave us. We didn't have much money, but mom always found a way to make things special. She did crafty stuff with us, she cut our sandwiches into holiday themed shapes, she was the Brownie troop leader, she got all the boys to baseball games and practices, let me take guitar lessons at the afterschool center, and made me a candy covered corsage for every birthday. We had special weekend mornings, when we would sit together, drinking tea and eating fresh baked corn muffins with butter and jelly. Sometimes, we would stay up late, and play cards, while we snacked on cold cereal. When I think of those times, I can close my eyes and smell the Cocoa Puffs.
In addition to raising her own five kids, she often had her nieces and nephews with us. As all four of her sisters went through divorce, (one of them 3 times), and headed into the full-time work force, my mom often helped out with summertime child care, and she would be with us all in the yard from right after breakfast, (and making us all clean up the house, make our beds, and whatever else needed to be done), until the moon was high overhead, and our fingers and toes were deeply "pruned". And even though we didn't have much, I always compare her attitude about having extra family to feed, to a line from a song in "Oliver Twist"..."Who cares? What...ever we got, we share!"
I entered my teens, and became a rebel. The stories of my adolescence are definitely the subject of another post, but let's just say, I was NOT an easy teenager. Even after I moved out at almost 18, and spent some time not speaking to my mom, she has always been the "constant" in my life. There was NEVER a time I really needed her and she wasn't there. She told me when I was wrong, and then she told me she loved me anyway.
When I was 18, and I was in the hosptal with a ruptured ovarian cyst, my mother never left my side. When I broke her heart and moved to Texas with my boyfriend, and then a year later, I called her to say he had given me two black eyes for Easter, and I think this was a mistake, she held back her "told ya so" until much later, and she bought me a plane ticket home. When I moved in with that bartender with the gorgeous blue eyes and a motorcycle, she cringed, and still invited him for holiday dinners. When, after seven years together, I told her she was going to be a Nana, and NO, I wouldn't be marrying him right now, she was with me every step of the way. When my boy was four months old, and I told my mom I didn't want to raise my baby with this drunken, cheating asshole anymore, she said, "Come home". Throughout my 22 years wth MAC, she has been there for every important moment...for the good and the bad. Now that I'm on my own again, she is still the one person I know will always be there for me.
Now, don't get me wrong...my mom has made plenty of mistakes. She is crazy as the day is long, and could give lessons in how to be a superbitch. She tends to overanalyze everything, she takes everything personally, and uses anger as a shield when she feels hurt. She was a scapegoat for all her father's anger, and even though he's been gone for over 65 years, she carries a deep defensiveness everywhere she goes because of it. She is insanely jealous, and God help my poor father if he happens to be looking up when a pretty girl walks in the room. And God help the woman who has her hands on my dad or a few seconds too long. Mom would give her left arm to help someone in need, but if you hurt one of her loved ones, she would just as soon cut you without blinking. And even at almost 74 years of age, my mother is NOT a woman to be trifled with. If you ever see her eyes widen, her jaw move forward, and that deep crease between her eyebrows appear, just run.
My mother may have given us our fair share of beatings as kids, but all five of us would kill for her. And dysfunctional as we are, because of how she raised us, we would kill for each other, too. We have a fierce bond because of how she raised us. In a family of five kids, there is something to be said for that kind of loyalty.
There are so many individual stories I could tell to honor my mother, but I think the best way to show my gratitude for all she has done for me, is to continue being the very best mother I possibly can be. Because of my mother, I know that even though I will make mistakes, there is nothing on this planet I wouldn't do for my kids. And my kids know that. And they know I can go from zero to superbitch if they screw up, and I will hold them accountable. So I guess they can thank Nana. And I can thank her. Thanks, mom.
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Love In Ten Lines
The Rules:
Write about love using only 10 lines.
Use the word love in every line.
Each line can only be four words long.
Nominate others who are up for the challenge.
Let them know about the challenge.
Title the post: Love in Ten Lines
Include a quote about love (can be your own)
You may write in any language.
I have sought love
I have found love
Love has lifted me
Love has carried me
Love has broken me
I have lost love
I have rediscovered love
Love has restored me
Love has healed me
Love gives me hope
I won't nominate anyone. I don't know that my own peotry carries any merit,
but I do know it comes from feeling. I hope whoever feels a poem about love
will do us all the courtesy of sharing. The world needs more of that.
There was a time when I would have told you, my favorite quote about love
was an Al Pacino line from The Devil's Advocate:
"Love...biochemically no different than eating large quantities of chocolate."
After allowing my heart to be healed, by my children and myself,
I prefer to sing my favorite quote.
"Only love can break a heart. Only love can mend it again" ~Hal David
Friday, February 20, 2015
#1000SPEAK - Compassion...Even When It's Not Easy
Anyone who has followed my story on Facebook for any length of time knows the ugly details of the demise of my marriage. The marriage wasn't always pretty, and it certainly wasn't perfect. I had plenty of faults, and I wasn't even close to being the perfect wife, (whatever THAT is...). But I said forever, and I would've kept my word. He had other plans.
I have lots of reasons to hate my ex. The list of awful things he has said to me, and about me, is a long one. He betrayed my trust, and hurt me in a way I would never have believed he could. Because of what he did to me, my extended family is somewhat torn apart, and I have been separated from HIS family, which is somewhat devastating because of the incredibly close bond I have had with his sister's children all their lives. Friends have been forced to take sides, and some have been lost. I've had to deal with a lot of pain. But as we wrap up the details of the divorce, I find myself rather surprised by what I feel.
I don't hate him.
I'm not even angry.
Don't get me wrong...I have had my moments. I'm certainly not sitting back and wishing him well. What kind of ass backwards jackass would I be if I was hoping for the universe to reward him for hurting me and breaking up our family? But I'm not wishing him horror and misfortune, either. Truthfully, it's possible that I have been wrong about everything. Maybe I have misread everything I believe to be true, and he isn't as guilty as I believe him to be. Maybe I'm the one who has gotten it wrong. I don't think so, but it's possible. And I believe wholeheartedly in Karma. So I wish him...Karma.
Now, my daughter...she's a tougher nut to crack.
She's angry.
She's hurt, and she's majorly pissed off about it.
It doesn't matter how many times I tell her I'm not mad at her dad. It doesn't matter if I tell her it doesn't even bother me if his new girlfriend is her "Godmother". She doesn't care that I am completely over it. She is not.
I tell her I forgive them. I tell her we are all better off NOT living in the toxic environment of anger and hatred we were drowning in when he was here. I tell her how much her dad loves her. But from her point of view, all she knows is, whatever her dad's issues may have been with ME, SHE was not important enough for him to find a way to fix it. Her dad, who could fix ANYTHING, didn't think she was important enough to fix our family. No matter what I tell her, this is what she feels in her broken heart, and she's so angry at him.
She doesn't want to talk about it. She won't go see a counsellor. She won't discuss her feelings with her dad. She's just mad at him, to the point where she's being disrespectful to him, and I find myself having to threaten her with punishment, and taking her phone away, just to get her to return his phone calls. But she isn't crying about it. Besides being a little rebellious and slacking on her schoolwork, she's not being self destructive. And she's still young enough where I don't have to worry too much about her engaging in dangerous or harmful behavior. I keep a pretty close eye on her, and make sure I make it easiest for her to spend time with friends whose parents share similar values to my own. I encourage her to talk about her feelings, but I don't push her. For now, I'll just give her time and space, and all the support she needs to NOT let her anger consume her.
My ex...he's another story. He's mad. He thinks I'm filling our girl's head with terrible ideas of the awful cretin I must think he is. He's telling people as much. But as the saying goes, "You can't explain yourself to those who have already chosen to misunderstand you". He doesn't believe anything I tell him any more now than he did throughout our marriage. He has it all figured out. But that's on him.
At this point, you may be thinking, "What the fuck does any of this have to do with compassion?" Some, (or at least one, that I can think of), will be thinking, "Oh, God...she's whining about her husband leaving her..." No. Not even a little bit. I don't know if there was ever a woman who has danced as much as I have after her husband walked out. Well...maybe if the woman was being left with a ton of money, she might dance a little more. The point I'm trying to make is, it's easy to have compassion for a homeless mother and her children. It's easy to have compassion for people who are less fortunate than we perceive ourselves to be. But sometimes, it's NOT so easy.
I have a son who happens to be gay. Even though being gay makes him "different" than some folks, I want the world to accept him for who he is. I have a son who has severe autism. He will need care for the rest of his life. I want the world to accept him for who he is. If I hope for this acceptance for my own children, even when it is NOT easy for some people to accept what they don't understand, I only have a right to hope for such acceptance, if I am willing to open my mind and my heart, and extend that very acceptance to others. Even when it's not easy.
Now, I surely don't mean to suggest that we should all embrace EVERYONE. There are some folks who do awful things, and they may only ever receive compassion in the next life. Or maybe not. It sure isn't any of my business to judge what a person does, or doesn't do. But I do have a choice in whether or not I will think outside my own comfort zone, and even when I am hurt, or wronged in some way, allow for the possibility that there may be more to a situation than is visible. If someone in my life, or someone I encounter does something to intentionally hurt me, or ALLOWS something to happen, even though they KNOW it will hurt me, it's NOT easy to consider what has brought that
person to a hurtful circumstance. It's much easier to be angry, and to point fingers. But that won't lead to a resolution, and it won't leave any relationship, even a fleeting one, any happier than it was before. Being angry and pointing fingers only leads to more anger and resentment, and leads the people who are standing by and watching, to MORE anger and resentment. And sometimes, the people standing by and watching are our children.
I believe with every fiber of my being that I have to BE the change I want to see in the world. It's not a cliche. It's a fact. So even though I may call my ex a douche nozzle, and numbnuts, (among many other terms of "endearment"), I don't wish terrible things for him. I don't take any great pleasure in any misfortune that may find him. And I don't hate him. If I saw him on the side of the road with a flat tire in a rainstorm, I would pull over and make sure he called roadside assistance, (or I would do it FOR him, since he never got around to putting the roadside assistance tag on his keyring). I might giggle a little at the sight of him broken down and soaked...give me a break...I'm human. But I would still help him.
I don't mean to pat myself on the back, or suggest that I possess some supernatural ability to forgive. In fact, I have often sent out curses of diarrhea and a wicked jock itch, to folks who have wronged my friends. I'm joking, (no...not really), but I can't say I would be broken up if those folks actually did end up getting a rash and crapping their pants. I AM trying to present a possibility that even in the most difficult of circumstances, compassion is possible. It's difficult to put the needs and feelings of someone who might have hurt us, above our own need to be right, or to seek revenge. But ultimately, offering kindness...compassion...will bring us far greater satisfaction than seeing the suffering of another human being.
I can only hope that by showing compassion to those who have hurt me, I can teach my daughter to let go of the anger that is keeping her from enjoying a decent relationship with her dad. I truly want that for her. Life is hard. And so much of life can be hurtful. We should all take every opportunity to make the most of the loving relationships we are blessed with. Anger, and blame, and revenge will only suck the joy from our lives. You know what brings joy? Showing kindness...compassion. I'm going to seek joy, wherever I can find it, and I'm going to dance. And if someone hurts me, I'll dance around them. And maybe teach them a step or two.
#compassion
I have lots of reasons to hate my ex. The list of awful things he has said to me, and about me, is a long one. He betrayed my trust, and hurt me in a way I would never have believed he could. Because of what he did to me, my extended family is somewhat torn apart, and I have been separated from HIS family, which is somewhat devastating because of the incredibly close bond I have had with his sister's children all their lives. Friends have been forced to take sides, and some have been lost. I've had to deal with a lot of pain. But as we wrap up the details of the divorce, I find myself rather surprised by what I feel.
I don't hate him.
I'm not even angry.
Don't get me wrong...I have had my moments. I'm certainly not sitting back and wishing him well. What kind of ass backwards jackass would I be if I was hoping for the universe to reward him for hurting me and breaking up our family? But I'm not wishing him horror and misfortune, either. Truthfully, it's possible that I have been wrong about everything. Maybe I have misread everything I believe to be true, and he isn't as guilty as I believe him to be. Maybe I'm the one who has gotten it wrong. I don't think so, but it's possible. And I believe wholeheartedly in Karma. So I wish him...Karma.
Now, my daughter...she's a tougher nut to crack.
She's angry.
She's hurt, and she's majorly pissed off about it.
It doesn't matter how many times I tell her I'm not mad at her dad. It doesn't matter if I tell her it doesn't even bother me if his new girlfriend is her "Godmother". She doesn't care that I am completely over it. She is not.
I tell her I forgive them. I tell her we are all better off NOT living in the toxic environment of anger and hatred we were drowning in when he was here. I tell her how much her dad loves her. But from her point of view, all she knows is, whatever her dad's issues may have been with ME, SHE was not important enough for him to find a way to fix it. Her dad, who could fix ANYTHING, didn't think she was important enough to fix our family. No matter what I tell her, this is what she feels in her broken heart, and she's so angry at him.
She doesn't want to talk about it. She won't go see a counsellor. She won't discuss her feelings with her dad. She's just mad at him, to the point where she's being disrespectful to him, and I find myself having to threaten her with punishment, and taking her phone away, just to get her to return his phone calls. But she isn't crying about it. Besides being a little rebellious and slacking on her schoolwork, she's not being self destructive. And she's still young enough where I don't have to worry too much about her engaging in dangerous or harmful behavior. I keep a pretty close eye on her, and make sure I make it easiest for her to spend time with friends whose parents share similar values to my own. I encourage her to talk about her feelings, but I don't push her. For now, I'll just give her time and space, and all the support she needs to NOT let her anger consume her.
My ex...he's another story. He's mad. He thinks I'm filling our girl's head with terrible ideas of the awful cretin I must think he is. He's telling people as much. But as the saying goes, "You can't explain yourself to those who have already chosen to misunderstand you". He doesn't believe anything I tell him any more now than he did throughout our marriage. He has it all figured out. But that's on him.
At this point, you may be thinking, "What the fuck does any of this have to do with compassion?" Some, (or at least one, that I can think of), will be thinking, "Oh, God...she's whining about her husband leaving her..." No. Not even a little bit. I don't know if there was ever a woman who has danced as much as I have after her husband walked out. Well...maybe if the woman was being left with a ton of money, she might dance a little more. The point I'm trying to make is, it's easy to have compassion for a homeless mother and her children. It's easy to have compassion for people who are less fortunate than we perceive ourselves to be. But sometimes, it's NOT so easy.
I have a son who happens to be gay. Even though being gay makes him "different" than some folks, I want the world to accept him for who he is. I have a son who has severe autism. He will need care for the rest of his life. I want the world to accept him for who he is. If I hope for this acceptance for my own children, even when it is NOT easy for some people to accept what they don't understand, I only have a right to hope for such acceptance, if I am willing to open my mind and my heart, and extend that very acceptance to others. Even when it's not easy.
Now, I surely don't mean to suggest that we should all embrace EVERYONE. There are some folks who do awful things, and they may only ever receive compassion in the next life. Or maybe not. It sure isn't any of my business to judge what a person does, or doesn't do. But I do have a choice in whether or not I will think outside my own comfort zone, and even when I am hurt, or wronged in some way, allow for the possibility that there may be more to a situation than is visible. If someone in my life, or someone I encounter does something to intentionally hurt me, or ALLOWS something to happen, even though they KNOW it will hurt me, it's NOT easy to consider what has brought that
person to a hurtful circumstance. It's much easier to be angry, and to point fingers. But that won't lead to a resolution, and it won't leave any relationship, even a fleeting one, any happier than it was before. Being angry and pointing fingers only leads to more anger and resentment, and leads the people who are standing by and watching, to MORE anger and resentment. And sometimes, the people standing by and watching are our children.
I believe with every fiber of my being that I have to BE the change I want to see in the world. It's not a cliche. It's a fact. So even though I may call my ex a douche nozzle, and numbnuts, (among many other terms of "endearment"), I don't wish terrible things for him. I don't take any great pleasure in any misfortune that may find him. And I don't hate him. If I saw him on the side of the road with a flat tire in a rainstorm, I would pull over and make sure he called roadside assistance, (or I would do it FOR him, since he never got around to putting the roadside assistance tag on his keyring). I might giggle a little at the sight of him broken down and soaked...give me a break...I'm human. But I would still help him.
I don't mean to pat myself on the back, or suggest that I possess some supernatural ability to forgive. In fact, I have often sent out curses of diarrhea and a wicked jock itch, to folks who have wronged my friends. I'm joking, (no...not really), but I can't say I would be broken up if those folks actually did end up getting a rash and crapping their pants. I AM trying to present a possibility that even in the most difficult of circumstances, compassion is possible. It's difficult to put the needs and feelings of someone who might have hurt us, above our own need to be right, or to seek revenge. But ultimately, offering kindness...compassion...will bring us far greater satisfaction than seeing the suffering of another human being.
I can only hope that by showing compassion to those who have hurt me, I can teach my daughter to let go of the anger that is keeping her from enjoying a decent relationship with her dad. I truly want that for her. Life is hard. And so much of life can be hurtful. We should all take every opportunity to make the most of the loving relationships we are blessed with. Anger, and blame, and revenge will only suck the joy from our lives. You know what brings joy? Showing kindness...compassion. I'm going to seek joy, wherever I can find it, and I'm going to dance. And if someone hurts me, I'll dance around them. And maybe teach them a step or two.
#compassion
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Bunker Punk Tour
What is your most prized possession?
Hmmmm...I don't really value "stuff". I'm really wracking my brain over this one. Nope...what really matters to me are the people. My people. My kids, above all else. My family, of course. My friends. My dog💗. I guess if I absolutely HAVE TO name a possession, it would have to be my home. In spite of the difficult associations that are now attached to it, this house is really HOME for the kids and me. Maybe not for much longer, but it will always hold my heart.
How do you unwind after a long day?
That's really all you need to know.
What is one song that has followed you throughout your whole life?
The Sound of Music is my favorite movie of all time. (I know...pretty nerdy for a badass...) I had the soundtrack album as a child, and probably wore a deep groove into it on my old record player. I knew every word, every note, and every scene that went along with it all. I could even yodel along about a goatherd.
As a teen, when I began to believe that "true love" was the only thing that would ever define me, I often thought of "Something Good"...the love song, sung between Maria and Captain Von Trapp. I always thought that someday, I would find my "Captain"...my reward for doing "something good", in spite of anything I might have done that wasn't so good. I fell in love easily, and every time my mind would bring me back to that hope...that THIS was my reward. This love. Of course, it was all a load of crap. As each heartbreak left me believing less and less in "rewards" and "true love", the song eventually stopped playing in the back of my head. Current circumstances had all but killed any hope I may once have had of finding that reward.
So, recently, when The Sound of Music was aired on television, my mom called to remind me to watch it. It didn't matter that I own the movie...my mom is the "reminder" of all things, so knowing how much I love the movie, she called. I rolled my eyes, thanked her, and 10 minutes later I found
myself tuning in and singing along. (Such a nerd!) And when it came time for that touching scene...the one in the pretty, glass gazebo where they finally connect...I started to sing along. And as I sang, I looked across the room at my daughter and realized, it was never about a man. It's all about my kids. My three reasons for breathing are the only reward I would ever need. And it's a lovely realization to come to..."Somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, I must've done something good."
If you could give one piece of advice to new bloggers in your field, what would it be?
That's an easy one. Write about what makes you feel. Anything. Happy, sad, worried, scared, broken...if you feel it, chances are good that someone else has felt it too. Somewhere in me is a ranting post about the anger I feel every time I put a new tablecloth on the kitchen table, and my little tween treasure manages to destroy it within a day by knocking over a bottle of nail polish. EVERY...DAMNED...TIME!!! May sound ridiculous, but somewhere out there, somebody knows exactly what I'm talking about. And if writing isn't about finding a way to connect over the human condition, (small and insignificant as a thought may seem), then I just don't know why else it could matter.
Now that you're famous, we need a quote from you.
Nobody else is ever responsible for the choices we make. If I screw up, I will own it, make amends, and take responsibility for my words and my actions. I can't hope my kids will grow up to be decent people if I don't set a decent example. ~ Honey Badger
So, recently, when The Sound of Music was aired on television, my mom called to remind me to watch it. It didn't matter that I own the movie...my mom is the "reminder" of all things, so knowing how much I love the movie, she called. I rolled my eyes, thanked her, and 10 minutes later I found
myself tuning in and singing along. (Such a nerd!) And when it came time for that touching scene...the one in the pretty, glass gazebo where they finally connect...I started to sing along. And as I sang, I looked across the room at my daughter and realized, it was never about a man. It's all about my kids. My three reasons for breathing are the only reward I would ever need. And it's a lovely realization to come to..."Somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, I must've done something good."
If you could give one piece of advice to new bloggers in your field, what would it be?
That's an easy one. Write about what makes you feel. Anything. Happy, sad, worried, scared, broken...if you feel it, chances are good that someone else has felt it too. Somewhere in me is a ranting post about the anger I feel every time I put a new tablecloth on the kitchen table, and my little tween treasure manages to destroy it within a day by knocking over a bottle of nail polish. EVERY...DAMNED...TIME!!! May sound ridiculous, but somewhere out there, somebody knows exactly what I'm talking about. And if writing isn't about finding a way to connect over the human condition, (small and insignificant as a thought may seem), then I just don't know why else it could matter.
Now that you're famous, we need a quote from you.
Nobody else is ever responsible for the choices we make. If I screw up, I will own it, make amends, and take responsibility for my words and my actions. I can't hope my kids will grow up to be decent people if I don't set a decent example. ~ Honey Badger
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Inspire Or Go Home!
It seems my dear, new friend at How My Brain Works has nominated me to be honored with The Very Inspiring Blogger Award. It's taken me a few days to respond. A post-holiday bout with illness has knocked me on my ass, and I haven't had much energy for writing...or thinking. But now that I've had some time to process the occasion, I have some very clear thoughts on how I feel about being called "inspirational".
To be acknowledged by a peer, in general, is a great honor. To be acknowledged as inspirational, it's extremely validating. To be honest, I'm so surprised by her nomination because it's a "blogger" award. Truthfully, I only have 3 legitimate "blog" posts to speak of. My usual blogging takes place on my Facebook page, and there are lots of writers and bloggers who don't even consider a Facebook page to be worthy of consideration. I have argued in the past that the media I use to tell my story is irrelevant if the one person who needs to hear the story the most, comes across it and finds hope in it, or somehow feels less alone. I'm an older mom. I'm technologically challenged, and working out all the bells and whistles of the blogging world can be intimidating. I have avoided tackling a "regular" blog because there are links and features I'm just not familiar with, and Facebook has just been an easier route. So, the fact that The Brain has respectfully recognized the story I tell as a "blog"...that alone is a great honor. So to my friend, I say, thank you:)
I understand the formalities of accepting this honor have changed as it's been passed along, and being a rebel like my friend, I'm going to take the liberty of listing a few things about myself, so that you can decide for yourself if I have what it takes to inspire.
1) My kids are what matters most to me on this planet. My family too. But my children are my reason for breathing. There is NOTHING in this world I would not do for my kids. Nothing.
2) I started this blog a long time ago, and abandoned it when I saw too much of my personal information attached to it. I have since figured out how to change some of the settings, and if my privacy can be maintained, I will likely spend more time offering my (sometimes irrational) thoughts to a broader community than only Facebook.
3) I avoided all social media for a really long time. I had convinced myself that if I wasn't already communicating with you, I didn't need you in my life. I was madly in love with my husband, and I didn't need anyone else. And then we moved to the suburbs. And it was quiet. And bridge tolls and gas prices kept our friends and family from visiting. And we learned how very lonely and isolating life can be when you are living with autism. And the commute was exhausting for him, and if he wasn't working, he was sleeping. Unless my cousin was in our house. And when I realized he had begun to prefer HER company to mine, (a story for another day), it was really the end of my relationship with both of them. It took over two years for the marriage to end completely, and we're still going through the divorce, but for all intents and purposes, I was completely alone for a long time. So I started a Facebook page, just to feel connected to ANYONE. I am convinced that Facebook saved me from a mental breakdown...from the incredible pain of loneliness.
4) I started my "Just a minutemy cape is in the dryer" Facebook page, (yes...it's spelled that way), anonymously, after getting fed up with judgemental, intrusive "real life" friends and family, and all the nosy comments they were making every time I posted something about my (then) husband, or my kids, or the challenges of autism, or how badly I need a damned glass of wine some days, on my personal page. I had found comfort in some of the public "autism" pages, and "mommy" pages, and "funny" pages...I thought I had a few things to add to those interactive conversations, and threw my hat in the ring. Besides having my children, starting that page was the best thing I have ever done. I have made life changing connections through that page, and made friends I would NEVER have made in any other way. I tell the story of EVERYTHING. Everything I experience. The hardships of a failing marriage, the heartbreak of betrayal, the challenges of autism and OCD, raising a daughter with morals in a world that can sometimes be kind of a cesspool, being the most accepting parent on the planet to my oldest, who happens to be gay...if I live it, I tell it. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, and the asshole who would surely have to be looking over his shoulder if people knew who he really was:)
5) I truly enjoy drinking a glass or two of wine. Every now and then. And I joke about it on the regular. But I don't drink even a fraction of the alcohol I am joking about. I'm entirely too broke to drink that much. And just to keep my family from staging regular interventions, I post periodic disclaimers, just as a full disclosure of reality. Considering the sleep deprivation I endure (thanks to the erratic sleep patterns <or, lack of patterns>, of my sweet, happy, beautiful, autistic boy), and all the other crap that comes with being a mom, in general, and the aforementioned failed marriage, it's a miracle I am NOT a stone cold alcoholic...but I'm always happy to sip a glass or two, when I can afford it, or when it's a gift. And I am always responsible for my kids, and DO NOT drink and drive.
6) During one of my personal disclaimers, upon mentioning how very much I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT what people have to say, what they think, what opinions they may have formed about me, an old friend mentioned "OMG...you ARE the Honey Badger!" And THAT is where I chose my pen name. It fits. And if you don't like it, I'm pretty sure I don't even have to say it:)
7) From the very first post on my page, and the very first response that included the words, "Me too", I knew I would always keep writing what I feel, because it gave a voice to someone else who may have felt lost and alone. I felt validated in my feelings, and thought if I kept sharing, other folks could feel like they mattered too! Writing, even the simplest of thoughts, gives me a purpose on days when I doubt myself. It doesn't happen often anymore, (especially now that there is no one living here to tell me how worthless I am). But I love knowing that something I may have said, maybe gave somebody the little push of support they needed to feel hopeful on a hard day.
8) I'm from Brooklyn.
9) I swear like a drunken sailor. I've sanitized my potty mouth for purposes of this post. I don't want to put any of the new folks in culture shock. But should you happen upon another post on this page, I make no promises.
10) I am a parent to a gay son, an autistic son, and a feisty daughter, and I'm a soon-to-be ex-wife. I don't tie myself to a specific genre of writing. I tell it all. If I encounter you, and you don't want me to tell the world a story of what a douche you are, don't be a douche.
11) I don't lie. And I don't take kindly to being lied to.
12) The outcome of my day is ultimately in my hands. It's all about choices. Most days, I choose to be happy. In spite of ANYTHING that might be going on around me, I CHOOSE to he happy. And I choose to be kind. And I choose to be helpful. They are simple choices. It is not always simple to make those choices on days I might be struggling, or when I'm dealing with hateful folks. But it's still a choice that I know is an option, and I know the outcome of any scenario will be a more positive one if I stick with those choices. So I try. Really hard. Most days I win. And I forgive myself for the days I don't.
And now that I've given you a little glimpse into who I am, I have the honor of naming other bloggers, who I consider to be inspirational. If you read this before I get some tech support, you won't find links to their blogs. (Those damned bells and whistles...) But search for them. They are worth it.
Autism: Uncensored
Cat on a Trampoline
It's a Mad, Dad World
Monkey Business
And my fifth choice, can only be found on Facebook, but as I've said, the chosen media doesn't change the honest, uplifting, and unifying message, so go look for The Daily Stim on Facebook.
To be acknowledged by a peer, in general, is a great honor. To be acknowledged as inspirational, it's extremely validating. To be honest, I'm so surprised by her nomination because it's a "blogger" award. Truthfully, I only have 3 legitimate "blog" posts to speak of. My usual blogging takes place on my Facebook page, and there are lots of writers and bloggers who don't even consider a Facebook page to be worthy of consideration. I have argued in the past that the media I use to tell my story is irrelevant if the one person who needs to hear the story the most, comes across it and finds hope in it, or somehow feels less alone. I'm an older mom. I'm technologically challenged, and working out all the bells and whistles of the blogging world can be intimidating. I have avoided tackling a "regular" blog because there are links and features I'm just not familiar with, and Facebook has just been an easier route. So, the fact that The Brain has respectfully recognized the story I tell as a "blog"...that alone is a great honor. So to my friend, I say, thank you:)
I understand the formalities of accepting this honor have changed as it's been passed along, and being a rebel like my friend, I'm going to take the liberty of listing a few things about myself, so that you can decide for yourself if I have what it takes to inspire.
1) My kids are what matters most to me on this planet. My family too. But my children are my reason for breathing. There is NOTHING in this world I would not do for my kids. Nothing.
2) I started this blog a long time ago, and abandoned it when I saw too much of my personal information attached to it. I have since figured out how to change some of the settings, and if my privacy can be maintained, I will likely spend more time offering my (sometimes irrational) thoughts to a broader community than only Facebook.
3) I avoided all social media for a really long time. I had convinced myself that if I wasn't already communicating with you, I didn't need you in my life. I was madly in love with my husband, and I didn't need anyone else. And then we moved to the suburbs. And it was quiet. And bridge tolls and gas prices kept our friends and family from visiting. And we learned how very lonely and isolating life can be when you are living with autism. And the commute was exhausting for him, and if he wasn't working, he was sleeping. Unless my cousin was in our house. And when I realized he had begun to prefer HER company to mine, (a story for another day), it was really the end of my relationship with both of them. It took over two years for the marriage to end completely, and we're still going through the divorce, but for all intents and purposes, I was completely alone for a long time. So I started a Facebook page, just to feel connected to ANYONE. I am convinced that Facebook saved me from a mental breakdown...from the incredible pain of loneliness.
4) I started my "Just a minutemy cape is in the dryer" Facebook page, (yes...it's spelled that way), anonymously, after getting fed up with judgemental, intrusive "real life" friends and family, and all the nosy comments they were making every time I posted something about my (then) husband, or my kids, or the challenges of autism, or how badly I need a damned glass of wine some days, on my personal page. I had found comfort in some of the public "autism" pages, and "mommy" pages, and "funny" pages...I thought I had a few things to add to those interactive conversations, and threw my hat in the ring. Besides having my children, starting that page was the best thing I have ever done. I have made life changing connections through that page, and made friends I would NEVER have made in any other way. I tell the story of EVERYTHING. Everything I experience. The hardships of a failing marriage, the heartbreak of betrayal, the challenges of autism and OCD, raising a daughter with morals in a world that can sometimes be kind of a cesspool, being the most accepting parent on the planet to my oldest, who happens to be gay...if I live it, I tell it. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, and the asshole who would surely have to be looking over his shoulder if people knew who he really was:)
5) I truly enjoy drinking a glass or two of wine. Every now and then. And I joke about it on the regular. But I don't drink even a fraction of the alcohol I am joking about. I'm entirely too broke to drink that much. And just to keep my family from staging regular interventions, I post periodic disclaimers, just as a full disclosure of reality. Considering the sleep deprivation I endure (thanks to the erratic sleep patterns <or, lack of patterns>, of my sweet, happy, beautiful, autistic boy), and all the other crap that comes with being a mom, in general, and the aforementioned failed marriage, it's a miracle I am NOT a stone cold alcoholic...but I'm always happy to sip a glass or two, when I can afford it, or when it's a gift. And I am always responsible for my kids, and DO NOT drink and drive.
6) During one of my personal disclaimers, upon mentioning how very much I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT what people have to say, what they think, what opinions they may have formed about me, an old friend mentioned "OMG...you ARE the Honey Badger!" And THAT is where I chose my pen name. It fits. And if you don't like it, I'm pretty sure I don't even have to say it:)
7) From the very first post on my page, and the very first response that included the words, "Me too", I knew I would always keep writing what I feel, because it gave a voice to someone else who may have felt lost and alone. I felt validated in my feelings, and thought if I kept sharing, other folks could feel like they mattered too! Writing, even the simplest of thoughts, gives me a purpose on days when I doubt myself. It doesn't happen often anymore, (especially now that there is no one living here to tell me how worthless I am). But I love knowing that something I may have said, maybe gave somebody the little push of support they needed to feel hopeful on a hard day.
8) I'm from Brooklyn.
9) I swear like a drunken sailor. I've sanitized my potty mouth for purposes of this post. I don't want to put any of the new folks in culture shock. But should you happen upon another post on this page, I make no promises.
10) I am a parent to a gay son, an autistic son, and a feisty daughter, and I'm a soon-to-be ex-wife. I don't tie myself to a specific genre of writing. I tell it all. If I encounter you, and you don't want me to tell the world a story of what a douche you are, don't be a douche.
11) I don't lie. And I don't take kindly to being lied to.
12) The outcome of my day is ultimately in my hands. It's all about choices. Most days, I choose to be happy. In spite of ANYTHING that might be going on around me, I CHOOSE to he happy. And I choose to be kind. And I choose to be helpful. They are simple choices. It is not always simple to make those choices on days I might be struggling, or when I'm dealing with hateful folks. But it's still a choice that I know is an option, and I know the outcome of any scenario will be a more positive one if I stick with those choices. So I try. Really hard. Most days I win. And I forgive myself for the days I don't.
And now that I've given you a little glimpse into who I am, I have the honor of naming other bloggers, who I consider to be inspirational. If you read this before I get some tech support, you won't find links to their blogs. (Those damned bells and whistles...) But search for them. They are worth it.
Autism: Uncensored
Cat on a Trampoline
It's a Mad, Dad World
Monkey Business
And my fifth choice, can only be found on Facebook, but as I've said, the chosen media doesn't change the honest, uplifting, and unifying message, so go look for The Daily Stim on Facebook.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Everyday Resolutions
2014 has been an eye opening, life altering year for me. Depending on your perspective, the events that have occurred could be seen as a devastating loss or a long overdue liberation. Marriage, in the best of circumstances, is a challenge. There is a daily responsibility to find a way to honor your partner while remaining true to yourself. When there is real love, we can find a way to overcome the greatest of obstacles. When one partner gives up, all the love in the universe won't save you. I had a partner who gave up. Whatever his reasons, there was no convincing him that he could possibly be wrong. And frankly, it had become too exhausting to keep trying to convince him. But this whole experience has taught me that if you have to work THAT hard, at convincing the person who has promised to love you forever, that you are worthy of love, he has already CHOSEN to believe otherwise...for whatever reason...or WHOMEVER.
I have no intention of using this space to whine about all the things I have lost, or how I have been hurt and betrayed. Instead, I plan to share with you all, the many amazing truths I have discovered in the midst of pain, anger and uncertainty. I have been truly blessed with a (mostly) supportive family, a few real life friends, and an amazing circle of "Facebook Friends", (with whom I am emotionally closer, and who understand and accept me better than anyone I have ever known), and on the days I struggle to hold it together, there is always someone to remind me of my true value. Their support has held me up in the moments when my own strength starts to fail me. But those moments of weakness have become few and far between. The older I get, the more at peace I feel with the person I have become. Every hardship, every failure, every betrayal, every pain...they have all led me to the person I have become...this survivor.
I have no intention of using this space to whine about all the things I have lost, or how I have been hurt and betrayed. Instead, I plan to share with you all, the many amazing truths I have discovered in the midst of pain, anger and uncertainty. I have been truly blessed with a (mostly) supportive family, a few real life friends, and an amazing circle of "Facebook Friends", (with whom I am emotionally closer, and who understand and accept me better than anyone I have ever known), and on the days I struggle to hold it together, there is always someone to remind me of my true value. Their support has held me up in the moments when my own strength starts to fail me. But those moments of weakness have become few and far between. The older I get, the more at peace I feel with the person I have become. Every hardship, every failure, every betrayal, every pain...they have all led me to the person I have become...this survivor.
A long time ago, I gave up on New Year's Resolutions. Not only are they usually unrealistic, but they tend to lead us to believe that if we fail, we have to wait until the next time the ball drops to make changes and improvements to our lives. I prefer to believe that we can make changes every minute, of every day. But I can't help but feel reflective as we wrap up another year...especially a year that has brought such monumental changes to my life. So here are some of the most valuable lessons I will take forward, into a brand new life, all of my own choosing:
1) If someone has said or done something to hurt me, it is my responsibility to let them know. It is my responsibility TO MYSELF, to stand up and say, "It's not OK to make me feel bad". I can't expect anyone to read my mind, any more than I can read theirs. (Even if I'm really good at it.)
2) I have the power to choose who is worthy of my time. As a mom, my kids are my top priority. They are my reason for breathing. They are the focus of most of my actions during the course of a day. I don't have the luxury of lots of free time, so if I have managed to devote any amount of time to someone who does not appreciate it, or who takes me for granted, I have the power to choose to NOT waste my time. It's just too precious.
3) I DO NOT have the right to expect others to behave the way that I would. However "right" I may think I am, my "right" may not be EVERYONE'S "right". If I want people to respect my choices, I have to first respect theirs.
4) I will be accountable for my own actions. I will not offer half-hearted apologies that start out "I'm sorry I hurt you, BUT..." There is no BUT. No matter what you have ever done to offend me, I can always choose to stand up for myself, and NOT behave in a way that is spiteful or vengeful. If I expect to raise responsible, courteous and kind children, I have to be the example. No excuses.
5) I will NOT make excuses for my kids. I will help them to understand their own responsibility to, and consequences for their actions. Making excuses, ("Oh, he's just being nasty because he's tired and cranky..."), leads them to believe they can do whatever they want, or hurt whomever they want, as long as they have a good enough excuse. Whatever has happened to them, whatever has been said to them, I will make sure my kids know it is OK to stand up for themselves, but IT IS NEVER OK to treat people badly. NEVER.
6) When I wake up in the morning, (after usually having very little sleep), and I feel the sadness of loss and failure creeping up my throat, I have the power to CHOOSE to feel happy. It's really that simple. It may not always FEEL that simple, but it is. I can sit and cry over whatever has NOT worked out the way I had hoped, or I can force a smile, (which has scientifically been proven to fool the brain into believing we are happy...), and steer the course of my day in the direction that keeps me feeling happy. My choice.
7) I will give careful thought to my words and my actions, and I will be confident in being myself. I WILL NOT change who I am, or "curb my enthusiasm" to comply with another person's expectations.
8) I will NOT have unrealistic expectations. Expectations, in general, are the greatest killer of relationships. All relationships. Friends, siblings, romantic...they can all be derailed by expecting others to behave in a way that does not naturally occur to them. I will also NOT comply with the unrealistic expectations of others. I can be thoughtful, and kind, and make some compromises, but I WILL NOT be less than who I am to please others, any more than I expect others to be less than themselves.
9) I will remember to say please and thank you. Especially when speaking to my kids. Telling my kids to use good manners is NOT as effective as SHOWING them the use of good manners.
10) I will offer compliments to random strangers. I always felt it was thoughtful to tell people they do a good job when they do, and we all know how good it can make someone feel when we tell them they look nice, or we appreciate their choice in fashion. But until I began to compliment folks on a regular basis, I never realized how good it would make ME feel!!! So yes...for totally selfish reasons, I will compliment the people I encounter during the course of my day.
11) I will not allow the pain of past failures to drown out my hope for what the future may hold. There is always hope. Always.
12) When all else fails, and the day seems to be lost, I will dance. I'm just going to dance my way through it all. Crappy events and crappy people will not suck the music out of my soul...if I let them. Dancing always reminds me that even in the hardest times, we can always do SOMETHING to change how we feel in a given moment. I'm going to choose to dance.
There are lots of reasons I should feel sad. There are lots of reasons I should feel angry. But those are NOT my only choices. Happy and dancing. That's how I will spend the rest of my life. Because I get to choose.
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