Marjorie Writes…

Everyday Musings of an Extraordinary Woman

06 Nov 2021

Living Again

When I started college (many years ago) a wise man pointed out that many thought college was for learning to live, when in actuality it was about living. Someone special reminded me of that last night. Life, no matter where you are in it, is about living, not waiting to live.

I guess I should backtrack a little. The conversation, at that point, was about life. He said he wanted to live it. A lightbulb went off, and I said I did too, that I felt like I hadn’t really been, I was in a holding pattern for far too many years. I’ve been a single mom for 14 years and recently both of my kids have gone away to school. Everything I had I gave to those kids for so many years I felt like now it was my time. It hasn’t been an easy trek, but it’s been worthwhile. Or at least I hope it has. I took care of my father when he was sick, I took care of my kids on my own for so many years, I moved us across the country, I helped us rebuild our lives when Hurricane Harvey rocked the foundations. And I’ve been surviving rather than living, rather than thriving.

So my kids went to different parts of the country and now I need to figure out what I want to do next. It’s my time. I’ve done a lot of things while raising them, often for them or others. I want to see what I can accomplish now that I am my day-to-day focus. I know what I am capable of, and there are no limits. It’s time to figure out what else has been holding me back, and finally reach for the stars. It’s time to shed the tethers that have been holding me back and go for my dreams.

There’s where the heart of the issue lies. It has been so long since I’ve put myself first that I don’t know what my dreams are. When did I stop dreaming, choosing to live a life planned out in order to have some security, instead of remembering how much I’ve always wanted to do? When, and why, did I let the pain and heartache of the ugliness of life hold me back from truly living?

After the past almost 2 years of a global pandemic, in which I played it safe and stayed home (I do love working from home) I was still hesitant to get back out there, even though my once full house is now filled only with myself and a couple of beloved pets. Then I fell, breaking my ankle. This brought even my small human in-person interactions to a halt since I was reduced to ordering for delivery everything I need. Halfway through my recovery, it was deemed I needed surgery. Pure agony is the best way to describe the first week of that recovery. And then work got me out of the house for a week, fully present and in-person with real, live people, unmasked for the first time in a long time (everyone either had a negative test or was vaxxed). And it was beautiful. But it also reminded me of how much more I wanted, as did the conversation with the beloved friend.

I will say, I did start to do something for myself, since I’ve started to learn Russian using an app. Once upon a time I so greatly wanted to learn Russian, but plans changed and it’s been many years since I thought about it. So now I’m learning Russian, with no plans or expectations about what I’ll do with the new skill except for the good feeling of utilizing parts of my brain that have been left alone for far too long. Part of that was spurred on by hearing about the interesting classes my kids are taking and how it made me realize how much I’ve always loved learning and I took the small, easy, riskless step of starting to learn a new language.

So while I still have a long way to go in my recovery (won’t be dancing or riding horses or anything else very physical for a long while), I don’t plan to wait for that physical recovery to move forward with starting to live more, until I’m living fully.

Stay tuned. I’m a work in progress and can’t wait to see where life takes me (and brings me, since I’m open to all possibilities)!

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27 Dec 2020

Inspiration

I don’t know about for you, but for me inspiration takes different forms at different times, or more accurately, what inspires me takes different forms.

This whole global pandemic has changed so much for so many. For me, it’s meant working from home full-time, which I love. It’s also meant that board meetings, committee meetings, work/team meetings and workshops, along with worship services, take place online. Makes it super easy, right? I definitely don’t miss the long commute. It makes a huge difference. But it also comes with it’s own set of challenges, including staying close with people you don’t see in person anymore, and having fun with friends.

However, even in this time of physical distancing, I’ve had a couple of strong influences who’ve pushed me to start writing again. One did it unintentionally, while the other is a good friend who always pushes me but who finally managed to break through my thick skull. This good friend has been pushing me to write for a couple years now. A couple other friends do the same, but not as ferociously as she does.

The other is someone who came into my life in a more meaningful way than his previous role as a peripheral business acquaintance. He and I haven’t talked in depth about writing, or my writing, and until very recently he hasn’t encouraged me to write, per se. However, we have amazing conversations and he is always so articulate, and so ardent, it’s affected me. After we spent an evening together in person, talking, I felt a strong message from the universe that I needed to start writing gain. Four months later and here we are. I’m finally starting again. I know. I should have listened to the message months ago, but although I was open to receiving it and finally actually hearing it, I wasn’t ready, or my head wasn’t in the right place, to start.

I’ve loved to write since I learned how to put words together to tell a story. Specifically, since my 4th grade teacher so inspired me. I’ve always written, even majoring in journalism in college. Somehow, though, my words seemed to dry up a few years ago. I stopped even writing to get tough feelings out, which probably would have helped me a lot after Hurricane Harvey, but I went into survival mode and didn’t use my words to help me heal, as I always have.

The other friend, the one who is so vigorous in her encouragement, is a creative who I truly admire for her passions, and has become a good friend over the past few years. She recently hosted an online workshop about manifesting your dreams. Talk about inspiring. Going in, the first goal I wrote was to start writing daily. Yea, didn’t happen then. This was a little over a month ago. I did, however, realize in that workshop that I had somehow lost the ability to truly relax. I don’t think I can fully explain how big an epiphany that was to me, really shaking me and making me re-evaluate several things. Re-learning how to really relax has been something I’m working on. I know I need to be able to relax fully for so many reasons. That has been coming back, as I’ve made myself do something else I’ve loved to do for years, which is knitting. It’s taken a little while, but I’m now knitting daily for the first time in years, even if it’s only a couple rows at a time. When I started, my shoulders would ache after too long. Now, its just relaxing. And a beautiful action as it makes me feel my mother with me.

Hopefully, re-learning to relax has opened my mind up to where I’ll be able to write more regularly. It has taken me far longer to write these few words than I can believe, but I also feel more open to the words than I have in a very long time, which is definitely a special gift. Maybe I’ll get to where I’m going. Or where I’m supposed to be going. No, scratch that maybe. I know I’ll get to where I should be. And I know I’m back on the right path.

All it took was a little inspiration.

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17 Aug 2019

Memories of Mom

Scrolling on Facebook way too early this morning, I saw a post by a dear friend of my late aunt’s, who is also my friend now. It was about a book she had read, with a summary of the book and an explanation of what it meant to her, how it moved her, and what message it left her with.

Now, I am a voracious reader – I love books and reading. I can get lost in a book for hours and lose track of my present circumstances. I have always been able to lose myself in books, which is one of the things I love about them. I’m a naturally curious person who loves learning about everything, and books allow me a view into different places, minds, and situations. Plus there’s that whole escape aspect.

Anyhow, in reading her post, it made me think of her friend, my aunt. She was always reading, and once I was an adult we would often talk about books and my much too infrequent visits to her house (I lived in another state) would often entail a trip into her closet to borrow a handful of books she’d recommended. Now, I have a lot of friends who love to read, and I see regular postings on Facebook with book reviews, recommendations, or commentary on books. Why this particular post brought with it so many memories, I have no clue, but I am glad.

The memories took me to memories of my mother, who passed away when I was 18. She also loved reading. In fact, I clearly remember going to the library with her. We went often, but my best memory was when I was old enough to get my own library card and I got to pick out even more books than usual and lug them home to get lost in. We also had a huge wall of books in the living room in the built in shelves that ran floor to ceiling against one long wall.

My godmother also shared this love of reading, and as an adult for a number of years I was fortunate enough to live in the same state as her. In fact, she had a summer home in the town I lived in, and again, my visits often resulted in me going home with armfuls of books.

As often do, the memories trailed along to other things my mom loved to do. When her nose wasn’t buried in a book, her hands were often full of whatever she was knitting, crocheting, embroidering, or whatever needlepoint canvas she was working on. She always had multiple projects going. I tried many of those needle crafts over the years, and they never stuck, but at least the skills stayed with me. I now love to knit, and I find that I feel her with me while I’m doing so. The friends I had when I was learning to knit, in my knitting group, would often tease me about being able to read while I was knitting (as long as it was a simple pattern, that didn’t require my full attention). And my stitches have always been very even, which I credit my mother with.

So I decided, as it turned out that I had an unexpectedly quiet, unscheduled day ahead, I will pay homage to the memory of my wonderful mother, reading and knitting. The only thing that would make it more like her would be if I found an Astros game on tv and watched that while knitting. Although, truth be told, she just loved baseball, so she would often watch whatever game she could find on tv, and back then, it was usually the hometeam (Astros), the Cubs or the Braves, as with cable back then you got the Chicago and Atlanta stations.

These beautiful memories also made me realize just how much of my mom I have in me. And that is an amazing gift.

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11 Aug 2019

We Need a Change. Now.

Many of us have been complaining for years that the US needs better gun control laws. Mind you, please note, I said gun control, not disallowing ownership. Due to the seeming recent proliferation of gun violence, I hope Congress will actually finally do something.

A week ago there were 2 mass shootings in less than 24 hours. That was followed by a number of threats and reports of threats. Our country is now on travel warning lists for other countries, which I never would have thought would happen, but did not surprise me as things stand now. And the president has responded by threatening those countries, which is absolutely absurd. I honestly don’t think I would want to visit this country right now if I didn’t live here. And if I didn’t have a daughter starting her senior year of high school this week, I don’t know that I wouldn’t seriously consider moving to another country, which is huge considering how much I’ve always loved and been proud to be an American.

This afternoon, there was news of an active shooter at the mall nearest us. My daughter went to the movies there yesterday afternoon, then we walked through the mall to visit her best friend, who works there. When I heard about it, I was in tears, scared for my daughter’s friend, and worried about how I’d tell my daughter if it were true, because she’s had some serious anxiety over the shootings (particularly the school and synagogue ones). I called a wonderful friend, who talked me down.

Once I relaxed some, and dried my tears, I questioned my reaction. I am generally calm in the face of an emergency. I may react and emote afterward, but during, I stay calm. This was calm, but teary and shaky, not my norm. Especially not at just news of a potential situation. Once the smoke cleared (so to speak), it was reported the reaction in the mall was one of mass panic. I saw video of people running across a busy street, weaving between cars, trying to get away. I read reports of people hiding in stores or escaping from the mall. When we finally went out for school supplies, the office supply store a mile or so down the freeway feeder road from the mall said people had run in there to get away from the mall. I opted to go to the office supply store instead of Walmart (who has lower prices) because I was honestly afraid to go into a Walmart this weekend, after all of the reported threats. I was trying not to let my fear control me, which is why I ended up going out, rather than ordering online. However, that didn’t extend to going into a big box store.

This got me to start thinking. Have we, as a nation, ended up with some form of PTSD from all of mass shootings that have become so commonplace? The fear, the uncertainty, nightmares, anxiety….all common with people who’ve been through a trauma. And while we haven’t all been directly involved in the shootings, they’ve gotten pervasive enough that people think twice when in public. Many people have curtailed their normal activities or pay closer attention to where exits are, what people are doing, etc, when in public places.

This also made me start thinking about why now. Why after so many mass shootings are the masses taking notice, calling for reform? Is it because schools, while truly tragic, don’t worry them because they’re not in school? Or festivals (think Las Vegas) are for those who attend them? Or churches and synagogues because so many people don’t attend? But then you hit a mass retailer and hell, we all go into big stores. I would have thought routine school shootings would have been a tipping point for reforming the laws. But sadly, no, they only seemed to truly energize the generation coming up – the ones who are just coming into adulthood, or who will be soon.

I don’t know how we can effect actual change, without it taking a generation or two. First, I’m not advocating taking away second amendment rights. However, we insist people go through rigorous training and testing before they are given a license to drive a vehicle on public roads, because it’s very dangerous if you don’t know both what you are doing and what the laws of the road are. So why can’t we do the same for firearms? There is absolutely no need for anyone to have automatic or semiautomatic weapons – or the peripherals that go with them. People should be subject to in depth background checks. There should always be a waiting period for purchasing – no one needs a gun today, right now, unless it’s because they’re pissed off at someone and they want to shoot them. They should be tested to make sure they know how to use the weapon (an armed person who doesn’t know how to use their gun is very dangerous, and at greater risk than if they weren’t armed). And we need to make sure they understand gun safety. This isn’t only about mass shootings. The grandson of a relative was recently shot in the head by his father, who was shooting his gun without knowing exactly where his 11 year old son was. It didn’t end well, and was just another senseless death.

Something has to be done. This should be a wakeup call to everyone who has let the NRA influence their perception of what the left, in this case, wants, which is gun control. That does not mean taking away people’s guns, that just means legislating controls to keep us safe. The many outweigh the few. We need to feel safe in our public spaces again. I shouldn’t have to comfort my hysterical teen when another synagogue or school is shot up. She should not feel like she is a sitting duck in the classroom, like her school is better suited to be a prison than a school, because there is no means for quick escape if necessary. I shouldn’t worry when she goes to the mall, except that she’s safe on the way there and back, as even my parents did. I shouldn’t have to worry about going shopping with my daughter and whether I should have to tell my son if we didn’t make it home alive, remember I love you so much, which I almost did.

We need a change. If not for us, for our children. But that change needs to start now.

 

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02 Feb 2019

Life is Too Short

I spent a couple hours this afternoon with some former co-workers from my college newspaper days. It was great to see them, catch up with what was going on in our lives, talk about our kids and our memories from between 25 and 30 years ago. However, there was an underlying sadness. We came together to celebrate the life of one of our own, whose life was cut short by cancer the day after Christmas.

While there were only a few of us there from our group, it was a good sized gathering from different facets of her life. I remember her as always having a huge smile and a great spirit.

The greater group of alumni from our newspaper usually gets together every few years. And even though we’re not all able to make it each time, we all usually make our best efforts as those times were special to all of us. I remember them well, and I remember clearly whom I was back in those days, back when I thought we would change the world, or at least report on those who did.

This was also a reminder about how I’ve meant to ask a couple former classmates to let me bring my daughter to their workplace as she wants to be a journalist too, and I’d love to be able to give her the experience to see what it’s really like, even just as a peek.

Sadly, it seems far too frequent that one of our own is gone from the group forever, lost to the eternity of death. As one of my friends said today, it feels like we’re far too young to keep losing our college friends.

Today is a reminder to my University of Houston Daily Cougar alumni friends that it’s time again to get together, before we lose another person. It’s a reminder how short life is and how unfair it can be.

Never miss a chance to tell those you care about how you feel. We are never guaranteed tomorrow, and we often don’t have the opportunity of knowing in advance when we will lose someone. Don’t leave things unsaid. Live life to the fullest. All cliche ideas, yet also all very necessary to remember.

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02 Feb 2019

#notmydaughter Revisited

So if you read my last post, you know my daughter was sexually harassed in school this past week. It started Monday, continued Wednesday, and I reported it Thursday morning. I went in to talk to her principal, told him the story, and was pretty reassured by his response. One of my greatest concerns was whether she would have to face a backlash for reporting it. He told me that was considered retribution, which is a felony, and would not be tolerated. I had no clue that was the case, but it definitely made me feel better.

When I went in to speak with the principal, I wanted to see them talk to the student and his parents and let them know this was unacceptable behavior. And hopefully see if he could be moved into a different class time (esp since he just transferred into that class this semester, a matter of weeks ago). I was told this would be referred to the police. That gave me pause, for as wrong as what he did was, I also know it was only words and I would hate to affect his future, in terms of college. The principal said he was already in trouble (legal) and maybe this would be what he needed to make a change. As I was leaving his office, I heard him telling the assistant to call my daughter in.

She let me know after she went in, and he had her fill out an incident report after he listened to her version of events. She gave him the name of the witness, and talked to the police officer, who also asked her if she had the same lunch period as the boy. She didn’t know. He hadn’t been on her radar – she’d talked to him a few times before this past week, in the class he was now in, about the work.

Today my daughter would have had class with him again. Instead, she left school early (not because of him) to go to her favorite weekend activity – her beloved USY kallah weekend. I swear, she lives for these weekends. I’m so glad it just happened to come after this past week! I reached out, by email, to the principal, this afternoon, to ask if the boy had been transferred out of her class, as she wanted to make sure. He called me himself and told me it had been done, and that the boy had been warned, by the police officer, that if he talks to her or has his friends talk to her, she is to let them know immediately. The principal told the boy if that were to happen, the police would be going to the district attorney to have charges filed.

I asked my daughter yesterday evening how she was doing. She said she’s pretty good. With a flip of her long hair, she said, after all, it’s just words so it’s easy to brush off. Still, I had her talk to the CIS counselor in the school this morning so if she has any trouble later, the counselor would have the background to move forward in getting help.

I think she’ll be fine. Thankfully, although they were disturbing words, and left her feeling threatened at the time, as my daughter said, they were just words. She felt strongly about reporting it just because it was so disturbing and she did feel so threatened. That left me thinking. I’m not as worried about her having long-term psychological effects after this experience. Well, after the harassment. The reporting will hopefully leave her feeling empowered and strong.

Now, after-effects of the harassment? Sadly, while most boys/men are respectful even while pursuing you, not all are. I hate to say that she has to learn that at some point, but it’s true. Before you blast me, I’m being completely realistic, not pessimistic, and definitely not engaging in any kind of male bashing. I just know what really goes on in this world. I think her attitude about words being able to be shrugged off will work well for her in the future.

I only hope the boy involved learned a lesson about talking to girls. And respect. And that his “rapey” dialog doesn’t lead to actual rape because someone shut him down before he got to that. Although his comment about liking to “take girls’ virginity” worries me. I hope they were all consensual

 

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31 Jan 2019
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#notmydaughter

I haven’t written and posted anything in here in years. I have been motivated to a few times, last when the synagogue in Pittsburgh was attacked, but life got in the way. Tonight I could no more ignore my need to write than I could forsake my children.

I am so grateful tonight that the open, honest relationship I have worked so hard to cultivate with my children, now both teens, is still open enough with my almost 17-year-old daughter that she could come to me with an important issue.

Not 6 months ago I had a serious discussion with her about reporting sexual assault, if it should ever occur. I still pray it never does. However, tonight she told me that twice this week a boy in her science class sexually harassed her. From what I understand, when it happened Monday she blew it off. When it happened again today, it rattled her. Badly.

Tomorrow morning I will be starting my day at her high school, planning to speak with her principal.  My daughter and I had a long talk about what happened, and whether she would report it. She wants to, she understands the importance of reporting sexual misconduct, in this case harassment. I told her I would support whatever decision she made, whether to report it or not.

How is it that today, in 2019, this is still even a concern? How is it that the lessons of the past are so ingrained in me that my biggest concern about her reporting something that left her shaken and feeling threatened and unsafe, was that if she faced retribution it could be more damaging to her psyche than the harassment itself?

I trust in her school, in her counselor and principal and teachers, that they will have her back, as I know her friends and community and I will. I plan to keep my cool when I go into the school tomorrow but if I find out afterward there is any retribution, I will go all mama bear on them.

I fully understand that no matter how far we think we’ve come as a society, some boys are just boys ruled by their hormones and lack of respect. But that’s still not acceptable. It’s bad enough it happens in dating situations, but for it to happen in a classroom, twice, is beyond unacceptable. In what universe is it remotely acceptable for a senior boy in high school to tell a junior girl he wants to fuck her? To repeatedly ask her why she’s still a virgin and to tell her at least he’ll still be nice to her afterwards? And how in the hell can other students not say anything when he says he likes to take girls’ virginities? How is that even something that can not have other kids chiming in, coming to her defense? Again, this is 2019, not 1989. We’ve had the #metoo movement and the #timesup movement. We watched, as a nation, as a victim of sexual assault which occurred during my teenage years was repeatedly verbally attacked, harassed, and threatened for coming forward about that attack. We were outraged and swore that wouldn’t happen again. And that was what prompted the discussion with my daughter 6 months ago.

At that time, my inclination was to tell her if it ever happened to her, not to report it, because she would be victimized again, verbally, as a result. But instead, I told her the importance of reporting it, if not for herself, than for the next girl. In part, in hopes that by reporting it there wouldn’t be a next girl for that boy to assault.

And tonight, I sit here hoping that lesson, now hitting so close to home, is not the wrong one. I pray and trust that those in power in her school will do the right thing, not only in dealing with what happened already, but in protecting her from any fallout.

Tonight I sit with tears in my eyes that my very grown up 16-year-old, who is still so very young, is having to deal with this, when she should be more worried about her college English class or her next pre-cal test, not whether she should report sexual harassment from one of the boys who sits at her table in science class.

The #metoo movement should have given way already to the #notmydaughter movement (no, not yet a real thing) in the hopes of stressing that we’ve had enough and aren’t going to allow this culture to continue to affect our next generation. They’re the ones who will be shaping the future. They’re the ones who already worry about safety in school from mass shootings. This should not be happening.

Hold your babies close. Even if they’re now taller than you. Empower them with the knowledge that doing the right thing is always the right thing to do, although it’s often by far not the easiest thing to do. Teach them to stick up for themselves, as she did today. I can’t tell you how proud I am of her for standing up for herself and not backing down. It makes my heart swell with pride even as it’s breaking that she had to stand up for herself in the first place.

Keep the lines of communication open. We as parents must always be a safe place for our kids to come when they aren’t feeling safe. And teach your kids to stand up for themselves and others. There will always be bad eggs out there, but if enough of our kids are standing up against what’s wrong, the future will right itself.

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18 Nov 2013

Message Received, Universe!

It all started a week or so ago. First one old friend, then another, both men I completely respect and trust, told me they’d loved me for years. These are guys who are both super-intelligent and very thoughtful, and both have been good friends to me in my life, the kind of people you never forget, even if you lose touch with them.

So it made me feel pretty good, I mean, who wouldn’t? Now, for the past couple of years, I’ve been struggling professionally. Prior to that I closed the business that had been mine for ten years, that had been my father’s before me. The economy was too much to overcome. So after taking a couple of months off to relax for the first time since I’d had kids and started running my own business, I started looking for work. I took on freelance jobs, doing well at what I did. But between the economy and the flakiness of freelance work, it’s been a struggle. After two years of freelancing, direct sales, odd jobs, etc, I’m ready for a full-time, benefits and regular time off job. But with the economy still being what it is, and being in an area that is employment-challenged unless you work in the service industry (which would be fine if it were not for the issue of nights and weekends and childcare), it’s hard. So I’ve been struggling.

Two years of struggling, coming off of two years of a tumultuous, heart-breaking, abusive marriage, can seriously affect your self-esteem/confidence/self-worth. Mine had taken a beating, and while I still have always believed in myself and had faith that I would land on my feet and things would work out, it’s still been tough, emotionally.

Then comes this morning. I met a new friend for breakfast after getting the kids off to school. We are working together on a project and wanted to meet to talk about it. Of course, most of the hours we spent together were chatting and getting to know each other, as we didn’t really know each other before today. One of the first things she said to me was, “You were married to John XYZ, right?” Immediately, as is my custom now, I say yes, I was married to him for 2 1/2 months before I kicked him out. Well, it turns out she knew him when he was a nice guy, when I met him. Then she said, “He loved you so much.” I almost started crying. You see, all I ever hear now is how could you have married him, what kind of idiot are you that you married a guy like that. But when I met him, he wasn’t like that. He was nice and fun and funny. He was smart and made me feel good about myself. I started seeing him, thinking he was just going to be a fun summer romance. But he quickly became my best friend, and I was his. He treated me better than any guy had ever treated me (overall, for the most part, not all of the time, he also hurt me sometimes, not physically, but hurt me nonetheless).

So when my new friend talked to him years ago, after he’d been in a bad car accident, he apparently had sung my praises, saying I had saved his life. And she said he loved me completely. I needed that. I needed so badly to hear that from someone, but I didn’t know I needed to hear that. You see, things deteriorated between us and he became very emotionally abusive. He had a lot of demons and was an alcoholic – drunk 24/7, literally. Somewhere in there I went from being his best friend and the love of his life to someone he didn’t fully trust anymore because of his own issues. And he took it out on me. And in the blindness of my love for him, I continued to believe I could save him and still married him, although I knew by that time that I shouldn’t.

Since then, I’ve questioned whether he ever loved me. Whether the early caring and love and friendship and passion had just been a ploy to win my confidence and my love. And I was told that by so very many people, including law enforcement, that he had used me, had been trying to get at the inheritance he thought was so big, which really wasn’t. I knew his finances, he trusted me with them. His net worth far outweighed mine at that point, before the bad choices he made contributed to all of his problems.

As a result, I’ve been reluctant to trust my heart anymore, to enter into any relationships for fear of being used, or abused, or played a fool, or hurt. The one man I was interested in since him didn’t share my affection, which was fine. I had decided I would stay single until my kids were grown, it was easier that way. But that one simple sentence, spoken with such belief, “He loved you so much,” seemed to open my heart along with my tear ducts.

So it hit me as I was driving home from breakfast that this was another in a string of messages from the universe. And now I’ve heard it loud and clear. Watch out life, here I come!

Live, love, laugh…it makes it all worthwhile!

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18 Nov 2013

Wow. Just Wow.

Before another long, late-night conversation with an old friend last night, I knew what the topic was going to be for my next blog post. I had been giving it a lot of thought for a day or two. I hate to use the word perceptions again, since I already have one post from last summer about perceptions, but there’s really no other word  I could substitute with the same meaning. Now I actually have two separate posts to write about perceptions, which I hate, but again, there is no other word that works.

So I’m going to start with the second post. This is because right now, it’s all I can think about. I have to try to work it out in my head to get around it, because it’s like the elephant in the room. I need it gone so I can think clearly again.

Ok, so imagine you’re in your mid-forties. Your first true love was when you were seventeen. And the love was so strong it has always stayed with you, though of course it has dulled with time. You know, like it’s supposed to – it’s always going to be part of your heart and part of your story, part of what makes you who you are.

So one night you’re talking with an old friend, who was the best friend of your first love. And he’s one of your best friends in your life, and potentially more. And as you’re rehashing this ancient, failed romance, as you do from time to time (mostly because you always learn new kernels of information which put things in perspective and make you think differently, which is a very interesting and wondrous thing.

Now, when you were dating this first love of your life, you were a high school senior. He was twenty and in the army. You met him and his friends through the friend you’re talking to, whom you met when you were out with friends from school (and he’s your age). So you’re talking to your old friend, who starts to point out things that you had accepted as normal way back when, but which don’t seem normal when they’re pointed out (at first, because of the fact that they are pointed out, which makes them stand out). And there are more of them. And then your friend mentions PTSD. And you ask the innocent question about why they would have PTSD since they were stationed stateside and unless there was awful hazing taking place, it wouldn’t make sense. Now, you know all about PTSD and what causes it and what it causes, because you happen to have it from two separate traumatic incidents in your own life – you’ve been battling it for half of your life now.

So then other things are pointed out that should have been red flags for you back then (in fact, your old friend asks didn’t it seem weird to you, didn’t we seem different after we came back) but being seventeen and naive and trusting and in love you had accepted what had been told to you at the time, and never questioned your beliefs.

Being modern, you Google the dates and OMG. Your world flips upside down because suddenly what never really made sense now may have other reasons. Ok, your world doesn’t really flip upside down, but half of your brain does just because this is THAT BIG. So after you stop Googling you send a message with a couple of links to said friend. And when he responds the next afternoon, he tells you he loves you, but you have to delete those messages. The NSA wouldn’t like the mentions made and the connections drawn. There was a reason these guys you trusted completely didn’t tell you the truth way back when. So you ask more questions and are told to ask the guy you were once in love with. Which you can’t. You just don’t have the nerve.

Now after spending half the day pondering this, you know you have to put it to rest and let it go. You have a lot to do in the next few weeks and you can’t be dwelling on how such a crucial part of your history may have just been re-written in several ways. Well, ok, not really your history, but the reasons behind WHY that part of your history ended the way it did.

Sorry I can’t be more clear on any of this, but when my friend mentioned the NSA, I didn’t want to take any more chances. Who knows, maybe some day I will be able to sit down and find out the back story in more detail. Until then I will try my best not to spend any more time pondering this…after all, now I have all of you wondering what the heck I’m talking about, so there is no need for me to dwell on this further.

After all, as I used to tell my grandmother regularly, if I have someone else worrying about something (or wondering, in this case), there’s no need for me to worry (or wonder).

Live, love, laugh….it makes it all worthwhile!

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16 Nov 2013

Going to Sleep Now

I don’t think insomnia will be a problem tonight. If it is, I’ll be very surprised and will probably go off the deep end. Yea, don’t think that’s going to happen.

Tonight’s blog post will probably be rambling, it’s somewhat of an exercise to see what happens when I try to write coherently when I can barely see straight. I was just messaging with a friend and tried to write vascilate no vascillate no vacillate. And then I got really excited when I got it straight, even with the help of dictionary.com. Interesting.

Anyhow, I finally reached the conclusion that I haven’t gone to sleep because I’ve been running all day, all week. Even though we got in late tonight, this is my little bit of MY time today. And tonight, I need MY time. Even though I really need sleep. The good news is that I should sleep really well tonight. And tomorrow is Saturday, no sports, no activities planned, so I can actually sleep late. (We’ll see how well my kids comply, but they are usually pretty good about not waking me up too early. Not that I usually sleep too late.

Ok, I think I reached giddy and passed it. Hope this doesn’t interfere with that great sleep I’m anticipating. I am really looking forward to falling asleep. You know that amazing feeling when you’re just falling asleep, your body is melting into the bed, your mind and body are drifting off and you’re just so relaxed.

Remind me tomorrow to write about what my original topic was going to be – perceptions of self….

On that note, I think I’m going to try to get some sleep before I completely miss my window. Sorry for the ramble and any incoherence that this may contain.

Live, love, laugh…it makes it all worthwhile!

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