Monday, January 31, 2011
Winging It - 11/19/09
So, as I'm walking up to the hi-chair this mornin, scrambled eggs in hand, it hits me outta nowhere like a ton of bricks---
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Insanity -1/31/09
Sometimes, I wish they sold 'lives' down at the market or in dept stores.
Just go down the isle, pick one up, read the "nutritional facts" maybe even have a "try me" button to preview said item.
I've outgrown this life, and I want a new one.
But y'know, as with anything else, I bet they'd be hella expensive.
Only the ppl with good lives could afford em, and that'd just be insanity.
Damn.
There goes that idea.
Freaking Coporate America.
Grr...
=/
Just go down the isle, pick one up, read the "nutritional facts" maybe even have a "try me" button to preview said item.
I've outgrown this life, and I want a new one.
But y'know, as with anything else, I bet they'd be hella expensive.
Only the ppl with good lives could afford em, and that'd just be insanity.
Damn.
There goes that idea.
Freaking Coporate America.
Grr...
=/
Monday, January 24, 2011
Old Folks - 8/27/09
It's funny how old folks are so comfortable with the notion of death. I know it's a fact of life, but I just can't get over some of the things my clients say.
For instance, last month, one of my clients, age 85, asked me to make a phone call for her. I put the phone on speaker and dialed the number. No answer and no machine. I hang up and state the obvious, "No answer."
She says, with the most apathetic look on her face, "Oh well. Maybe she's dead."
I just stared at her for a second, and she looked at me and started laughing. She asked why I was looking at her so funny, and I just giggled and said, "I can't believe you are so nonchalant about that,"
She goes on to tell me when you get to be her age, death is just an everyday thing.
Just today, another one of my clients, age 88, came to me and handed me a Christmas card with a phone number on it. Again, I was to make another phone call. He just wanted me to dial the number and he would speak. As I was dialing the long distance number, he told me that the card I was holding was from year before last and that he hadn't received one from last year. He was afraid his friend had "left the land of the living" as he so eloquently put it. He said as it was ringing, "I'll be surprised if she answers,"
Sure enough she did, and what I heard next had me laughing. I hear, "Hello? Dorothy? Oh good, you're not dead." LOL!
At their age and health, death is just a normality. I guess for someone my age, it's difficult to comprehend, but it is soothing for me to know that they are comfortable with the idea of dying. Them being ready makes it a lot easier for me, and will make it less stressful when their time comes. Either way, until then, their candor on the issue is cause for a few giggles.
For instance, last month, one of my clients, age 85, asked me to make a phone call for her. I put the phone on speaker and dialed the number. No answer and no machine. I hang up and state the obvious, "No answer."
She says, with the most apathetic look on her face, "Oh well. Maybe she's dead."
I just stared at her for a second, and she looked at me and started laughing. She asked why I was looking at her so funny, and I just giggled and said, "I can't believe you are so nonchalant about that,"
She goes on to tell me when you get to be her age, death is just an everyday thing.
Just today, another one of my clients, age 88, came to me and handed me a Christmas card with a phone number on it. Again, I was to make another phone call. He just wanted me to dial the number and he would speak. As I was dialing the long distance number, he told me that the card I was holding was from year before last and that he hadn't received one from last year. He was afraid his friend had "left the land of the living" as he so eloquently put it. He said as it was ringing, "I'll be surprised if she answers,"
Sure enough she did, and what I heard next had me laughing. I hear, "Hello? Dorothy? Oh good, you're not dead." LOL!
At their age and health, death is just a normality. I guess for someone my age, it's difficult to comprehend, but it is soothing for me to know that they are comfortable with the idea of dying. Them being ready makes it a lot easier for me, and will make it less stressful when their time comes. Either way, until then, their candor on the issue is cause for a few giggles.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Less Than Ten - 5/5/2008
I got a lil less than ten minutes to spleal before my husband wakes up and fusses at me for being on the computer so early in the morning.
Sometimes, I feel so absolutely overwhelmed with helplessness that I feel as if my lungs are gonna collapse and I'll die of suffocation. I worry a lot more than what I let on. And even though I say I don't care what other ppl think, I'm really reaching out for their approval, and I don't know why.
I talked with a friend of mine the other day, who's been my friend for more than 6 years. He's the most laid back and carefree individual I know. But on this day, he was kinda, well the opposite of carefree, and that really freaked me out. Got me thinking and pondering...and then as usual, the thoughts just starting spinning outta control in my head.
Then last night, to make things worse, I stayed up horribly late watching PBS. Materpiece Theatre came on and it was an episode of "The Complete Jane Austen Series." It was the one called "Miss Austen Regrets" and it was about her life and times as she recalled them during her writings of her books up til she fell ill and died. Man, oh man, did I relate to that woman. It really scared the crap outta me. I don't want to end up like her, and I feel as if I'm headed down that path with no one to help me or point me in the other direction. I guess you'd have to see it to understand what I mean.
Things here at the homefront have been rocky. They've been rocky for a while now, and I think that's where my helplessness feeling comes from. It's not in the ideal of making things better, but the fact of knowing really that I can't and what's gonna happen to us when it's all said and done. Starting over is an excruciating process that I would rather have pass me by in a most unfortunate way than have to go through again; but that'll never happen, luckily I suppose. I just wish so hard that it didn't have to be like this. I want to wave a magic wand and make it all better, make it go back to the way it used to be, but that won't happen.
I guess there comes a time in your life when you realize that sometimes it's just better to leave your broken heart where it lay rather than to keep trying to pick up the pieces. I've tried putting everything back together, but the glue's not sticking, and I dunno if maybe I'm using the wrong glue or what, but I think that maybe, this situation just doesn't want to be fixed.
I guess there comes a time in your life when you realize that sometimes it's just better to leave your broken heart where it lay rather than to keep trying to pick up the pieces. I've tried putting everything back together, but the glue's not sticking, and I dunno if maybe I'm using the wrong glue or what, but I think that maybe, this situation just doesn't want to be fixed.
And there in lies my worry----and the vicious cycle starts all over again, and I get that panicky feeling that I just can't seem to shake. UGH
I read something today that really made me think. It was on a really good friend's profile---so thank you to him, and here it is---some food for thought:
I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you can appreciate them when they are right, you believe lies so that you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can come together. - Marilyn Monroe
I don't know quite yet what to make of that, but I don't have time to ponder on it. My husband's alarm went off about 15 min ago, and I think he just turned it off and rolled back over. So, duty calls. To anyone who reads this, (not like anyone would...no one has subscribed to my blog except my husband) just pray for me please. I could use all the help I can get. Really.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Mother - 10/15/08
Satisfaction
Journey
Yearning
Passion
These are the words that have been creeping into my head lately. I can't explain it, but for those who know me well enough, I don't have to.
Maybe that's it.
Maybe that's what I I've been getting at...someone, anyone...who gets me.
Really and truly gets me.
No questions or qualms, just, "yeah, I get that"
A genuinely good friend.
A sit on the couch, and can tell by the weight displacement of your body how you are feeling typa friend.
A blanket sharing, same ice cream flavor fanatic, Seinfeld loving freak, like me.
A seemingly familiar but exact opposite typa friend.
My Sammie, my Heidi,
Or my Omar, or my Shane
But even these, these terrifically fantastical beyond belief, more than you could ask for friends...don't seem to be enough lately.
I need to crack.
I need to break.
And I need to be able to do it with someone.
Someone not necessarily unafraid, but someone willing to connect.
Someone whose shoulders are broad enough to support the weight of my tears,
and whose frame would make me feel safe while I fall into them.
A softly cry with you, my heart = your heart, running fingers through your hair typa friend.
And there it is. The light bulb. Just now I realized what it is that I have been getting to. Just now I uncovered what the title of this journal should be.
I miss my mother.
Journey
Yearning
Passion
These are the words that have been creeping into my head lately. I can't explain it, but for those who know me well enough, I don't have to.
Maybe that's it.
Maybe that's what I I've been getting at...someone, anyone...who gets me.
Really and truly gets me.
No questions or qualms, just, "yeah, I get that"
A genuinely good friend.
A sit on the couch, and can tell by the weight displacement of your body how you are feeling typa friend.
A blanket sharing, same ice cream flavor fanatic, Seinfeld loving freak, like me.
A seemingly familiar but exact opposite typa friend.
My Sammie, my Heidi,
Or my Omar, or my Shane
But even these, these terrifically fantastical beyond belief, more than you could ask for friends...don't seem to be enough lately.
I need to crack.
I need to break.
And I need to be able to do it with someone.
Someone not necessarily unafraid, but someone willing to connect.
Someone whose shoulders are broad enough to support the weight of my tears,
and whose frame would make me feel safe while I fall into them.
A softly cry with you, my heart = your heart, running fingers through your hair typa friend.
And there it is. The light bulb. Just now I realized what it is that I have been getting to. Just now I uncovered what the title of this journal should be.
I miss my mother.
Follow Me Yesterday - Intro
This is a journey into my mind as I discovered myself.
I discover myself everyday, actually.
However, these are a series of past blogs, published elsewhere, that led me to learn that I needed to reinvent who I was.
The time line is anywhere between 2007 and the end of 2010.
The articles are often times depressing and disheartening, but as I progressed and learned to love myself, so did my writings. It's a miraculous thing to witness, especially through composition, the transformation from a miserable being into a grateful and happy one.
For me, to write is to create a window into the mind.
For you to read what I have written is to peer through that window, catching a glimpse of the organized mess, sometimes dust, & darkish things, as well as the things that sit behind my eyes to make them shine.
To judge, even at a glance, is like taking a rock to the glass-- hindering the process for a later time & other onlookers.
Please... don't ever do that.
It's not very nice.
Each entry provokes emotion and thought into the reader, well, at least I hoped it would, and hopefully provides a sense of relation. I'd like others to know they're not alone in their thinking and feeling.
No matter what, it's important to ones progression to know that there are souls out there somewhere who have been where you have been, and who will go where you are going. Perhaps after following my yesterdays, you will begin your own journey of self discovery and can begin to chronicle yours, in hopes of release or relation to another. :)
I discover myself everyday, actually.
However, these are a series of past blogs, published elsewhere, that led me to learn that I needed to reinvent who I was.
The time line is anywhere between 2007 and the end of 2010.
The articles are often times depressing and disheartening, but as I progressed and learned to love myself, so did my writings. It's a miraculous thing to witness, especially through composition, the transformation from a miserable being into a grateful and happy one.
For me, to write is to create a window into the mind.
For you to read what I have written is to peer through that window, catching a glimpse of the organized mess, sometimes dust, & darkish things, as well as the things that sit behind my eyes to make them shine.
To judge, even at a glance, is like taking a rock to the glass-- hindering the process for a later time & other onlookers.
Please... don't ever do that.
It's not very nice.
Each entry provokes emotion and thought into the reader, well, at least I hoped it would, and hopefully provides a sense of relation. I'd like others to know they're not alone in their thinking and feeling.
No matter what, it's important to ones progression to know that there are souls out there somewhere who have been where you have been, and who will go where you are going. Perhaps after following my yesterdays, you will begin your own journey of self discovery and can begin to chronicle yours, in hopes of release or relation to another. :)
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