Best Friends for Life

"Marry your best friend", they say, whoever "they" are, "and your marriage will last forever". I hear this a lot, and I couldn't agree more.  I had a male best friend in high school, but I didn't marry him.  When I joke with the girls about marrying their guy best friends, they scrunch up their noses at me and say, "Oh my gosh, mom, that would be SO gross!" I get that. Now I realize that it means, find someone you love and then MAKE him your best friend too. After many dating failures, I did go on to find a best friend to marry. It just took a long time for him to become my best friend, because I didn't realize that's what I was looking for. I certainly didn't realize he was looking for me. Who knew that when you found your "best friend", that you were also going to find your spouse too?

 When Steve and I started dating, I couldn't have been in a worse place in my life.  I had started getting terrible migraines 3-4 days a week and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep plans I had made with others.  I was losing friends. I was feeling  pretty sick most days and I was struggling to take classes and working to pay for the classes. I was going to many doctors and none of them were helping, and I was running out of patience and feeling pretty rotten most of the time. When I did feel well, I tried to have fun and keep a smile on my face, which is when I met Steve.

For whatever reason, Steve didn't run for the door when he realized my predicament.  He would show up, dressed up and ready to take me out, but sometimes ended up having to stay in with me while I battled a sudden bad migraine.  It was never about me ruining his night. He was always focused on me, and in all the time we dated, he never complained. Not once.  He sat and massaged my shoulders and kept cold cloths on my head while he kept me company or sat quietly while I fell asleep, him sitting on the floor by the couch in the dark. I would tell him to go home, but he would stay, holding my hand until I felt better. Sometimes just quietly leaving when it was clear I wasn't going to recover in a night.  My parents would witness this act of love and smile. They knew. I was just learning.

He would also  be there to see the flaws  in my fractured family at the time- messy divorces and alcoholism issues.  I was often embarrassed by some of these "shows" and would tell him he could leave me anytime and I would understand. He wouldn't go. He would just hug me tighter. He was there when my sickness finally forced me to quit school, and also there when I told him I wouldn't marry anyone in my condition because I had nothing to offer. I gave him yet another option to leave, and he wouldn't take it.  He put in so much effort, even when I fought it.  I think I tried to push him out, thinking he was too good for my mess, but he wouldn't give up on me.  Nothing would  discourage him.  He kept saying  he knew I was the one for him. And somewhere inside, I knew he was the one for me too, but I didn't think I deserved him. Yet. I thought I had to be all "fixed up" inside first. But he saw me beautifully put together already. He could see what I could not. You see, when someone can see you completely whole when you are in the middle of a mess, that is love.
 
 I recently spent some time going through boxes of our old "love notes" and cards that we have exchanged over our 27 years together, and one thing stands out. While I thought I was such a mess and could only see the negative things about me, all of his notes only reflected what I had done for him. What I failed to see is that in my brokenness and sickness, I was still able to support him through his own challenges, show up at his ball games, make him laugh, and love him enough to keep him coming back to me. "I don't know where I would be without you", one note said. When thinking about where I was in my life back then, I just think, he had to have been better off with someone else, but when I look at our life today, he must have seen something I could not see at the time, and thank God his eyes were working better than mine.

Finding someone who was not only my best friend but also loved me brought amazing benefits. I now had someone who didn't just think I was cute and wanted to take me out. I had someone who had already seen me at my worst and couldn't wait to see me again!  In fact, to this day  one of the things I appreciate about him is that not only does he not leave when the clouds come in, but he stays to try make the sky blue again. I didn't know back then that my migraines would be chronic and that I would always be a "sick person." But right up to our wedding day, I wanted him to know it could happen, and he assured me he wanted all of me, sick chick and all. He has proven to me for 27 years that he has meant the actions behind his words. If that isn't a best friend, I don't know the definition. It's pretty simple to me. People who truly love you simply don't leave. My experience in life had been watching people leave me. He had seen the worst of me, I told him to go, and he stayed anyway. Others left me, whether at my worst or at my best, or when I could no longer serve them. Not only did he stay, but he tried to make my life better. He did make my life better. He made me a better person, and he still does today.
 
 There is a saying, and recently I slipped it into his drawer. "I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more." To me, this is a way of saying, I love all of you, the good and the bad,  the way you love all of me.
 He says this often from a scene in the movie, "Elf", and it cracks me up every time, "That's it. You're my best friend." He says it in the store while we're waiting to check out. He texts it to me while he's at work. He holds my hand while he's driving and looks over and says, "You're my best friend." He tells me at night just before he falls asleep. After a long hard day, and I've listened to the day's events, he'll say, "I'm so glad you're my best friend." When the girls were little and they would ask, "Daddy, who's your best friend?" He'd smile and say, "Mommy". They'd giggle. He still does that.

 We were married on 10/8, so when the clock says 10:08, I'll sometimes get a text that says, "It's 10:08, do you know where your best friend is?" It's clear to me that it has always been important to him to have a friend in me. And I learned early on from him that I needed to have a friend in him. I'm so glad I was paying attention, because as I think back, it is our friendship that has kept us going so many times when everything else was falling apart. It is our friendship that has enabled me to open up and be honest about the hard things, and it's the soft place to fall at the end of the day when those hard things threaten to overtake me.

Marriage requires effort, whether you've been together a year or 21, like us. It requires time, energy, and intentional focus on the two of you. Just loving someone isn't enough. This past year of hardships became a bit of a test for us, reminding me of those dating days where I tried to push Steve away when things were messy. Instead of trusting him with my grief, my tears, my questions, and guilt, I retreated. He let me, thinking I had to do what I needed on my own. But to me, a lasting marriage needs a strong friendship to hold it together for the long haul. Thankfully, it was our friendship that buoyed us through, and allowed me to be honest with him and trust him with all of that mess, and now be intentional about letting him help me. He still amazes me with his patience and understanding, tackling situations with the same selflessness and diplomacy that attracted me to him in the first place. When he and I have trouble seeing each other as husband and wife, we can always see each other eye to eye as friends, and it has helped us to remain a real "team".

It is a sweet comfort to be married to my best friend. He has stood by me, comforted me, celebrated me, fought for me, defended me, welcomed me, anticipated me, encouraged me, laughed with me, loved me, prayed with and for me, and brought me the best gifts in my life-our girls. He blesses me every day with his love and kindness. He values and respects what I do, supports my dreams, tells me I'm beautiful without makeup, and does not go a day without telling me how important I am to him. I can sigh and he knows I just said a hundred words, making that conversation really easy for me.

 God willing, we will be together until we are old and wrinkly. We just decided the other day that we are going to die of an obscenely old age, together in a cabin in Alaska, and we will let the bears find our bodies. Did I mention how important it is to have a good sense of humor in a marriage? :)
 
May your love, or future love be blessed with that of a best friend....

Happy Thoughts

Believe it or not, only a few things really drive me bat-crazy bonkers. I'll refrain from the negativity of a complete list, but the biggest thing that frustrates me is usually me.  I can annoy myself pretty much by myself, any time of the day pretty much about anything. But this time, I am beyond annoyed and there isn't anything I can do to fix it!

I have forgotten my Yahoo email password.  When I got my new phone I had to sign in all over again, and that's when I realized I forgot it, and I had changed it years ago when yahoo had a big security breach. I wrote it down "somewhere", but didn't record it with the rest of my passwords, and so I have a million (probably useless) emails floating around since July that I cannot access, and no, I don't have/don't think I have a security question, nor do I know a good hacker. And no, Yahoo is not helping me with my dilemma. Bunch of safety-loving yahoos keeping my junk email hostage forever. And yes, that bugs me.

Since July, as I've organized different areas, I have rifled through every piece of loose paper in the house. I've looked in storage bins, in file cabinets, and even in old notebooks looking for some hint of the magic word. I have not seen any hint of my password, but have found a lot of lost items, including a couple of poems I had lost on my computer but had handwritten them as well.  It makes me really thankful for paper and pen, since my computer has not proven itself to be very loyal to me. As I always say, "Technology rejects me." It's mutual most days.  Since most of my music disappeared to the cloud last night with no warning, I am now angry with my iphone and Apple and the Cloud and the fact that I will now have to reload all of those songs is kinda miffing me too. Gotta love technology. Not.  (insert bull with smoke coming from nostrils here)

While searching for the forever-forgotten, on-the-run, ever- elusive password, I came across a  12 page back-to-back jumble of mismatched, handwritten  papers stapled together ironically titled, "Happy Thoughts". I remember  starting this list sometime in high school, and it looks like I added to it after the birth of my children, considering I added the entries, "hearing Natalie laugh", and "Serena's dimple". It's amazing how many of these things still hold true to me today, indicating to me that I haven't changed much since starting this happy list. Well, maybe just a little....

I may have stopped "eating frosting  straight from the can", but I still love "sunsets", "rolling up my pant legs to walk on the beach at night", "chasing fireflies", "sitting by campfires," and "the smell and sounds of campgrounds." I'm not quite sure I'd giggle quite as hard if someone asked me to "punch me as hard as you can in the stomach!", but I still laugh when I see those "talking ninja turtles". I love "sleeping in tents", "hot summer nights", "watching fish jump", and "driving with the windows down and the music up". I don't watch "Batman and Robin" much anymore, but I still love "huge round maple trees", "sweet old men who hold open doors," "Calvin and Hobbes", and "chocolate". I can't see myself "raiding the refrigerator at midnight" much anymore, because I'm just happy to be asleep at that hour now, but I still love "a sky loaded with stars", a "tank full of gas and a day to explore", "a field of daisies", and "the smell of new wood". I still love "making snow angels", "tickling 3-year olds silly", "dancing like a fool", "doing fake karate moves","singing in the shower", and "the smell of the grill". I still like "muscles", though I'm working on building my own now! I still love to "make everyone's middle name 'Louise' ","driving through snow drifts", "cloud-watching", and I still believe in "following rainbows to find the pot of gold", at least with my camera.  And there is just something about that  Michael J. Fox, because his name was on my list not once, not twice, but three times! I could go on and on with "happy thoughts", but I'll spare you. My younger self was just slightly more silly than my current one! Just slightly... ;)

Now if I could just find that password.....ugh... I need a vacation. I'll be in my "blanket fort", "dunking oreos in milk", and  happily writing down happy thoughts in my trusty "notebooks".

Senioritis

I've been "revisiting" my high school years a lot lately, as I go with Natalie through these last few months of her senior year. As she studied for her Trigonometry final last week, I sat helplessly nearby, encouraging her, telling her I was sorry math was so mean. I agree with her when she says she is sick of school and doesn't want to go back every day. Yes, she has a severe case of "Senioritis", it's true. I had it my whole senior year, and I was nowhere near the dedicated student she has become. I didn't have a 4.0, I never carried straight A's for all four years of any grade. I didn't love school. I spent my days daydreaming or at home dreaming of the weekend plans.  I could have done better, I just didn't care. That's the truth. This kid puts her heart into her work, barely misses a day and has only said she hates school  this year, her senior year.

She can do anything she wants to do. She is well-rounded on many subjects, except for children,  which scare her to pieces. That cracks me up, because I was so comfortable around children my whole childhood, becoming an aunt at age eleven. I am in awe of her academic abilities, the ease at which everything comes to her. I always had to study, except for maybe English, which did come easier to me. And lunch, well, I mastered that, and I enjoyed Gym class way more than she ever did. And when that bell rang? Well, I was a quick one, yes indeed. No tardies on me.
She is headed to college this fall, and majoring in a technical field, so yeah, that escapes me, but it is really fun to listen to her talk about her future career. When I told her how many times I changed my field of study in college, eventually having to leave due to chronic illness, she finally said, "Yeah, sometimes I think I want to do hair and makeup." To that, I said, "You know what? You might just do that. You have to do whatever makes you happy. That is true success."
Just like when I realized I would never stay healthy enough to go back to school or hold down my job again. We realized one job I could do was raise our kids. It was the job that had never-ending "sick days", and many benefits as well as personal rewards. With my retired dad 2 blocks away, I was never without an emergency backup if a migraine struck at a bad time. Steve traveled a lot early in those days and it was much easier to have me home with the kids when he was gone. I look back now, and though that choice was easy to make, I didn't always "feel passionate" about what I was doing, but because it was the one thing I could do, I did the best I could do with the only job I had. And no, staying home with your kids is not easy, and it might look that way to some, and I won't get into it, but believe me, it's not an easy job. But it was an easy decision to stay with my kids.  Maybe that was passion after all. My kids have been my passion for a very long time. It makes letting go very difficult...look for that post later.
I look at those girls whose mom stayed home and taught them, read to them, played with them, explored with them, sang to them, and encouraged them in every way, and it's hard to give them to the world. I protected this senior who hates school. I sat with her and hated Trigonometry with her. I have spent every day with her for almost 18 years, living her life with her, highs, lows, tears, joys, fears, trying new things, scary things, breakups, disappointments, and so many more life lessons. And in just a few months, she'll be doing all of that from a different address, and all I will be is a distant presence, texting, "Math is mean." (frowny face)
And whatever she decides to do, whether it's flourishing in a career while raising a family, or deciding to stay at home to raise her children, she will be what I have become all along-a blazing success. Because what you do and what you earn isn't necessarily on paper. I've never learned that more than I have in these past few years. It's how you define your life, not how anyone else defines you. It's not a number on a W-2 form. It's not in your driveway or the title after your name. It's not the place you work. It's not the number of pounds you lost or muscles on your body. It's not all the letters after your name. It's not who you married. It's not the house you live in. It's not the food you eat. It's not the club you join or how many hours you work out. It's not the university you attend or the sport you play or the points you score. That is all temporary success. Permanent  success, the one everyone can achieve, is in the heart. It's always about people and what gets carried on long after you are gone. It's not just about looking at yourself and what you achieved. It's about appreciating others for what they also achieve, and believing them to be a success as well, even if it doesn't fit your measure of "success".
So as we finish out our case of "Senioritis" together, Natalie and I are going to do this thing with a hate of Trigonometry and a love of weekends. This girl has brought me so much joy and is such a delight to my soul. I cannot wait to see what she does to this world. I just know it's going to be spectacular, just like her!

My Summer Place

A couple of weeks ago, I rearranged our home office/scrapbook/whatever- we- don't- know what- to- do- with- goes- here- room, and made it into my writing space, leaving the home office stuff on the other wall where I can't see it.  Who can be inspired to write great things while looking at piles of unfiled stuff and file cabinets ? Not me, apparently, as my makeshift table/desk faces the opposite wall. I'm still looking for a desk that inspires me, which befuddles Steve, who wonders why that matters. He's a great guy, but those left-brainers don't get us artist-types sometimes. He says, let's stick a piece of laminate countertop in between some base cabinets, and to that I say, ugh!! No way! I need wood, old if possible! When I mentioned needing to paint the walls and add some inspiration to the wall because the light color was blinding, he said, how about a giant chalkboard wall? Yeah, that's a great way to keep the teenagers away. So, no.

Even though I do have a quiet spot in the house to do my writing, it seems as soon as I get in there, my services are suddenly required. The phone rings, or someone comes in to "file" something, or someone needs to "check" on me, and Angel requires the door to be open at all times so she can wander in and out. So, I'm never really alone, which is good and sometimes not so good. I kind of need a place to be completely alone so I can really dig in and work sometimes.
Bless his helpful heart, Steve has always supported my interests the best he can, and he did say something that made perfect sense.

"Do you think we need to add on to your writing cabin?" Did I just hear angel's sing?
The writing cabin he spoke of is the former treehouse that we all built together years ago. If I wasn't so lazy, I would have referred you to links in this post, as I'm sure I've blogged about it in the past at least a few times. Last October, Steve and his dad with help from my dad, moved the treehouse from the trees, and pulled it into its current location, snuggled in some pines just off the trail, but still close to our house, because the woods are scary at night, and well, no bathroom. The original plan was that we would get it ready for me to work in, but other projects got in the way, and it's just sitting there looking cute. Late in the fall, I saw a mouse in there. The end.

It's pretty small, since it's original function was a treehouse for 2 small girls, and it worked great for that for a time. Then the mice moved in, ate a pillow, peed on a sweatshirt, freaked out the girls, and they stopped going up there. The mice, however, did not.

It measures about 8x8. Not much room, but I don't need much room for a desk, chair, a few shelves, a hot tub, a bathroom, refrigerator,oh wait...it's not like I want my own apartment,hmmm....

So back to Steve's original question, "Do you think we need to add on to your cabin?" Well, we tackled that question on our way home from Ann Arbor yesterday when I had him trapped in the vehicle during a traffic jam on 23. He first pelted me with questions, to which I couldn't answer because he didn't give me any time in between!

"Do you want it bigger? Maybe 12x16? 16x20?  That way you'd have room for a couch maybe if you wanted one. A loft? Do you want to move it somewhere quieter? How about a woodstove? I can get a small one. Do you want screens for the windows? How about some cabinets? Do you want more windows? And on and on my "contractor" went until I stopped him in his tracks.

"Okay. Wait a second. I don't need a couch and I don't want to be out in the woods by myself. That's spooky." I added a few more responses to his ideas, finally landing on the most important features I desired. "This is it for me. This is the biggie. No holes. No cracks. No leaks. No creaks. No flaps. No gaps. No pitter patters of feet unless they are mine. No bugs. No slugs. No critters. No things that rhyme with critters. No bats. No rats. No stray or feral cats. No spiders. No hiders. Nothing that slithers, sneaks, clatters, or peeks. Can you guarantee this?"
"I think I got it. You want that sucker sealed."
I think my contractor and I are going to have a very long and successful partnership.

So, I probably don't need an addition after all, except for the addition of a desk that can be hinged so I can remove it in the winter to protect it from the cold. I'm hoping to make it out of an old door we salvaged from an abandoned house on the property. I am looking forward to a quiet place to write in the summer when the house is less than quiet. There's really no need for heat, but some light would be nice, so he's going to run some electric for that and for my laptop. I'm not holding my breath for this project, as we do have a very busy summer coming up with Natalie's graduation, but it's fun to plan, and it's moving up the priority list.

Having my own little getaway could be quite good. Quite good indeed! Did I forget to tell my contractor I needed a big lock for the door? I will get right on that!

Lessons From a Garage Sale

Over the fourth of July holiday last summer, we found ourselves wandering into a neighboring town to check out the garage sales. We're always drawn to the lakeside homes and cottages, with the hope that one day we may retire to a lakeside home ourselves.
We had Angel with us, so we were taking turns sitting with her in the vehicle, and Steve decided to stay behind while the girls and I checked out a nice looking sale near the lake. It was a beautiful sunny day and the friendly older couple greeted us cheerfully, almost as if they were waiting for us to arrive.

As the girls made their way  to a table of books, the trim, gray-haired man dashed behind them and touched one of the many antique items  that appeared to be part of his personal collection. Suddenly "The Twist" belted out from an old jukebox, and the girls jumped. We all smiled at him and he obviously got a kick out of surprising us. He then proudly exclaimed, "I won first place at the Twist competition every year!"
  I noticed that we seemed to be the only people at the sale for a long time, and the gentleman was kind, whistling and talking about the beautiful day. After awhile, his wife went inside, maybe to fix lunch, I guessed. We made small talk about the weather, and then he began to ask questions of the girls, prompting me to jump in now and then when they became tongue-tied or looked to me to fill in the gaps.  Did they get good grades? How old were they? Did they like school? Oh, they liked music?  Guitar? That's great! They took lessons? You have a cottage nearby? How far? And on and on the questions went, and soon we found ourselves standing in this man's garage, just talking away like neighbors, I suppose.

 Upon mentioning some of Natalie's college choices, he even went on to tell us the college where he flunked out at first, and then went on to the U of M to graduate at the top of his class. He was encouraging my girls to stay education-focused, which didn't bother me at all!
He then spoke of his own two daughters, close in age like mine, both older, of course, closer to my age. They had both gone on to college to find successful careers and businesses and start families. One became an eye doctor, the other an architect, I believe. He was a typical father, full of pride, speaking of his two daughters, eyes looking up now and then, smiling at his own memories of them. But then his face grimaced slightly and he looked me right in the eyes and said, "My daughter died of cancer a few years ago, and now we're raising her two girls. They're 9 and 11...their dad left....we're retired. Well, supposed to be...but now..well, we're doing this thing over again.." He kind of looked away and back at me and by then my heart had already felt his loss, and I simply said, "I'm so sorry about your daughter. Those girls are blessed to have you, I can tell." "Yeah, they asked if they should call us mom and dad." I was both touched and surprised at this sharing of such personal information. I think I just gave the most honest look I had on my face at that time, not knowing what to say to that. After all, I'm a stranger in a garage, hearing a stranger's heart speak. I didn't expect this. In fact, I was still running from my own grief for the most part.   He wanted to say more, but took a minute and just looked at my girls standing there. He asked again how old they were and I told him. He looked back at me, and sweetly said, "Are you sure? You don't look much older than that yourself!" Now, that man knows just what to say, doesn't he?

 I was glad to have the tension broken a bit, and we talked about whether or not his granddaughters should try guitar lessons, and he seemed to pick my brain a bit about girls in general, seeing I was a mom of two myself. He was curious about our  family cottage nearby, and even where we live. I was surprised to find that we actually reside in the same county! His  job used to take him all over the county, including our own tiny little town, of which he was very fond of and  familiar.  In talking further, I learned he also has hunting property just a few miles from us too. I just smiled. Is the world small? Oh yes, it is! And then it was, "Do you know this person? Do you know that person?"
Feeling guilty for leaving Steve in the car so long, and wanting him to connect with my new "friend",I finally motioned for him to come and look at some cool neon signs, and other "guy stuff"  he had for sale. Then the conversations began again with Steve! They talked about all kinds of things. Guy stuff.

The tables at the garage sale were covered with educational toys and books and nicely folded clothes in pinks and purples, much like the things we used to buy our own girls. I didn't see much of anything I couldn't live without until I came across this Christmas tea set with the words Peace, Hope, and Joy, and decorated with red cardinals. Since Jeff died, I had heard that if a cardinal visits your yard, it is like having your loved one come back to visit you. Seeing those cardinals, hearing him talk about his daughter, and knowing I needed something to remember this day by, I knew that was the item for me. Well, that and I love tea sets and now, cardinals.

By then, the man had spoken of his daughter a few more times, and I noticed he would slip from present to past tense. "She is so smart..well, she was..."  "She has...well, she had..." and somewhere in that odd jumble of conversation, I managed to tell him I had just lost my 50 year old brother suddenly and he left his 11 and 18 year old sons behind. I don't know why I did that, because with it still being so fresh in my mind, I rarely spoke those words aloud, let alone to a stranger, who now oddly felt like someone I knew. But here stood a grandfather/father with 2 young granddaughters, motherless, and a father who bailed on them. And he's telling me all these things. Me, a total stranger, buying a tea set. All I did was walk into his garage,smile at him, and say hello.

After Steve visited with the man for a few more minutes and we paid for our items, his wife came back out, and suddenly it seemed the sale was mobbed with people. It was the strangest thing.  I think I even said out loud, "Where did all these people just come from suddenly?"
As we left, I told Steve of our conversation in the garage,and he didn't seem surprised at all. These things seem to "happen" to me quite often, it's true.  And as I thought about it, and thought about that tea set this Christmas when I put it out, it occurred to me. Loss is like a family all its own. It connects you in a way that no other feeling can. It's a "me too" that no one wants to say, but most everyone can say. Everyone's experience is different, but most everyone knows what it's like to move on in life without someone they thought would be there longer. Those two little girls, my two young nephews. Those parents. My parents. That sister. Me. My siblings. We're all connected by the one thing we never wanted to face.  The strange thing is, that man didn't know any of that when I walked into his garage. He simply saw a mother with two young daughters, and that was something he could relate to in a way that I didn't understand by just looking at this grandfatherly man.

 The human connection can be so simple sometimes, and yet we complicate it so much. Kindness, a smile, and a catch phrase can go a really long way in changing the course of someone's day.  "I won the Twist competition every year!" I think I need to come up with one of my own. It works on strangers, but just think if we tried it out on the people we take for granted every day. I wonder just how many more people in our lives we would become a little more grateful for every day? I wonder how many friendships could be saved if instead of saying,"I'm too busy for you", we'd say, "Gosh, I wish I had more time to spend with you because I value you so very much!" What a difference it would make, wouldn't it? And instead of ignoring someone's text for days, or not answering their email, we'd instead answer back, "Thanks for the note! I will get back to you as soon as I can. Hope you're doing great. I'm anxious to talk to you." Instead of..."I'm so busy doing other things that I don't have time for you."

Learn from loss, and the Twistmaster. Life is too precious to be too busy for anyone, and I'd rather be visited by people than cardinals any day.

True Colors

"Write hard and clear about what hurts."  Ernest Hemingway said that, and judging by his success, I'm guessing he endured his share of pain in life. I often wonder what would have happened had he not written at all. Writing is my therapy. Maybe it was his as well.
If you read the  lyrics to many songs, most of them aren't about lollipops and rainbows, and most famous art masterpieces aren't paintings of smiling faces and sunbeams. Some of the most beautiful art, words, and songs come from pain, overcoming obstacles, or some other angst in life of which we can all relate in some way. Though artists get a bad rap for being dark and brooding, I don't believe that's true for all of them. I think a special amount of emotion is required to be an artist, and to be successful in any of those areas is certainly to be looked at as a blessing.
It's why I become a better writer when I'm a bit downcast, and it's why I could help out a friend in emotional pain a little better yesterday. Because when I'm feeling low, I become more sensitive and more clear of the pain around me. Though that may seem depressing or negative, I think it's quite the opposite. I think it's necessary and therapeutic now and then to detoxify, unload, and face some of those demons we would otherwise stuff inside. Being hyper-sensitive to others' emotions definitely has its downside, as I can sometimes sense feelings I would rather not know. And this one has been coming for awhile...
Most people are familiar with the term "true colors", as it pertains to a person. Usually it is used after you are disappointed with someone who either betrayed you or didn't meet your expectations in a failed relationship, etc... When I use this term, you may be surprised to know that I also will include myself in that over-used phrase.
Relationships don't come easy to me, except for the ones I treasure closest to me, and for those I am grateful. I consider them to be my unconditional love relationships, where unless something major happens, we have each other's backs for life. I have failed in many, and analyzed them to pieces, coming away with many lessons, most of them carrying the blame firmly on my own shoulders. This, however, hasn't seemed to teach me very well, as it just swung my judgement pendulum too far in the other direction, and that direction is trust. I either don't trust at all, or in this latest case, I trusted too much, and boy, did that hurt.
My first reaction? Of course, my old stand-by, anger. Righteous anger. How could this person be so insensitive? How could this person do this to me after everything I've been through? Everything I shared? How could they be so selfish? I trusted them! And that's where I stopped being angry with this person who showed those "true colors" and started being angry with me for showing mine.
I was blind. I allowed myself in my vulnerable state to share too much. I assigned undeserved titles to someone who had not yet put in the time or effort to earn that title yet. I put this person on a pedestal they did not ask to be on. I made myself available even when it was not convenient or interfered with those unconditional love relationships I mentioned above. I set those aside for someone who didn't care about me the way my family did, but took their time. I made no demands from this person, but allowed this person to cross my boundaries. I invited disrespect by doing that, and all of that was my fault.
I was in tears as I realized how much of my heart I had given away to someone who really didn't care about me and my well-being as much as I thought.  And though it was a hard lesson to learn, it was one I needed to learn in order to finally get what God has been trying to teach me for years. STOP LOOKING FOR OTHER PEOPLE TO VALIDATE YOU! I know, I know, I know....See, I had been praying about this friendship for a long time, and I had been asking God to show me what he wanted me to do. I agreed to do things His way, knowing it would be painful. This friendship spans many years, and holds many memories. I wasn't treating it lightly, but also realizing people change, including me.
I had a conversation with my husband last night, who lovingly told me not to beat myself up, as he always says. He, who knows why I do what I do, and feel what I feel, and truly understands, which is why I can say what I say in front of him and not feel the least bit judged or ashamed. Like always, he puts the pieces of me back together when I come to him broken. It's what he has always done since we met.
I had a nice long prayer session with God this morning after a restless night. Not only did I pray fervently for this friend, but I gave this friend to the Lord to take care of, and I agreed to walk away for now.  What was revealed to me is what I've known all along and probably ignored out of my own selfishness. Sometimes we fail to see someone else's need because we're too busy caught up in our own. Our eyes get so blurred with our own hurt and tears that we just can't see that we're taking from a dry well. And that's on us. That's our true color, and that's the color I need to see best.
As I thought about how much I had invested in this person, I realized too, that it wasn't a waste of my time. I genuinely cared for this person. I never regret the time I invest caring for others, but I do regret the mistakes that I make in allowing myself to get lost somehow in my own expectations. It's why I chose to pray for this person rather than continue to be angry, because I will choose to see the perspective from God's point of view rather than my own muddled, messed up one.  We all cross paths for a reason. I believe this, and I know my life impacted this person somehow. I just may not get to see that today, tomorrow, or maybe ever. Who knows. It's in God's hands, and I trust that He knows what and who is best for my life and for this person.
Steve looked in my bloodshot eyes this morning and said, "I'll get your coffee going." I smiled back at him as I went to get ready for the morning commute.  I came back in, sat down and said, "I'll be okay with this. I just need to pop this ole heart back off my sleeve, roll it around a bit, and stick it back in my chest where it belongs and move on." He looked back at me from where he was making breakfast for the girls, and said, "Yup. You will.  At least today..." I had to laugh, because he's right. It takes a few times for me to get it right. But one thing I know for sure about him. I know his true color. It's gold. Pure gold.

Life isn't Fair, but Love is Here

It was like a broken record at our house with my husband and I always saying the same thing to our little ones when it became clear to them what we always knew. We first heard this phrase at their Uncle John's house when he was disciplining one of his own daughters. She asked him why she couldn't have what her sister had, and after explaining it, she still didn't accept the answer. He finally told her, "Life isn't fair." We didn't have kids at the time, but looked at each other knowingly, and banked that golden phrase for later!
"Life isn't fair." Our own little girls would  scrunch up their little noses at us, showing their disdain for the phrase we spoke each time they would come to us with a problem we couldn't solve, or a  lesson they needed to learn through losing. They'd find out soon enough that the world didn't owe them anything, and that no, life was certainly not going to be fair.
I find myself breathing this very phrase hurriedly under my breath lately, sometimes to keep myself calm in frustration or anger. "Life isn't fair."
In near-tears,or a waterfall of them,  when someone has let me down, and I didn't expect it... "Life isn't fair."
When something doesn't turn out the way I thought it would, when healing just won't come, when the breakthrough just won't break through. When the clouds just won't part to blue. When you feel like you're losing more than you're gaining, and saying goodbye when you feel like you just said hello. Life. It's all about learning how to lose, isn't it?
"Life isn't fair". Well, that makes me feel better. Not.
It isn't much comfort really, and most times, I scrunch my own nose up at myself and at Steve when he says it, but then puts his arms around me to remind me that he gets it. It's not that we expect life to be fair at all, but to know that sometimes things just don't go the way we plan or want them to, and it's a never-ending growth process. It knows no age limit.  We all go through hard things, sometimes for seemingly no reason, and we're left with a mess at the end. Sometimes it really is just completely unfair, but it's what we do with the pieces of that mess that add up to who we will become when it's over. Better or worse?
I have been learning many lessons through loss these past few years. I'm not sure why they all came sprinkling in the way they did, and quite honestly, I've probably done a lot of nose scrunching and complaining through it all. I've said out loud, "When does it all end?" I've quietly questioned, "Why?"  I've lost 3 of the closest people in my family in a short period of time. Coming from a small family, I don't have people to lose. Life isn't fair. All Natalie wanted to do was play the sport she loved-basketball, until it was discovered her scoliosis was slowly crushing her organs and she needed a major spinal fusion. Her dream of playing any sports ended. Life isn't fair.  I have a seizure disorder now after chronic migraines have already stolen enough of my life. Life isn't fair. I lost my brother who I really needed in my life and there was no time to say goodbye. Life isn't fair. I had a friend I thought would still be here and well...life isn't fair. That's just the short list.  Lots of hard lessons in lots of hard years. No one said life would be fair, but lots of people said it would be hard. I hate it when people are right.
Life is all about learning how to lose, and learning how to overcome. Understanding that through struggle we learn "things", and get strong. All of this is true, but the journey isn't paved! It is earned with tears and pain, goodbyes, and lots of heart muscle.  People say to count your blessings, and I believe it's the only way I can keep my head above the water most days. I don't let "life isn't fair" get in the way of "love is here".
I may not have my family members, friends may walk out on me, my health may not be what I wanted and so I can't do the things I always dreamed of doing, and there isn't much I can do about that. But what I can do is use my breath to thank God for what I do have left, and for the beautiful pieces of the mess that have turned up as a result of some of these disasters. Like the dear friends that have shown themselves to be true and stayed when I needed them to stay. Like my healthy daughter who overcame her surgery despite her loss of sports. And because of the way blessings work, I just have to keep watching for the rest to appear because I know they are coming.  Love is here, though life will always be unfair. Love will prevail and so will I.

Right Side Up

I find myself watching a lot of college basketball since last year. That doesn't sound so strange, unless I tell you that I am very shocked by this new hobby/interest of mine. It surprises me because me watching basketball on TV was about as likely as a hurricane in the woods! 

I have changed a lot of my habits since losing my brother. I started noticing this when I was trying desperately to keep myself together in those early months. I couldn't bring myself to resume life as I knew it, so I certainly couldn't resume myself as I knew me either! 

I began researching strange topics when I couldn't sleep at night and I had tried everything, including prayer. Some of those strange topics: abandoned buildings, such as orphanages, insane asylums, and homes that were just left intact with trees growing through them. To my family, it was a bit "weird" that I would choose such odd things to research, but it kept my mind off "normal" things, and it's not like anything really felt that normal anyway. Looking back, "abandoned" is exactly how I was feeling, though I didn't put the feeling and the researching together until much later. 

I began watching nonsense on TV as well, mostly to entertain myself. One show I would watch was called, Finding Bigfoot. I would watch this group of Bigfoot hunters follow all kinds of crazy "clues", and try to prove the existence of the "squatch ". Clearly, I'm a non-believer, but their passion served to both numb and entertain my otherwise grief-rattled mind. Bigfoot hunting made no sense and I could accept that. But losing Jeff made no sense at all and I was far from understanding. 

Getting bored with Bigfoot, I moved on to College Basketball, and surprised myself by becoming quickly mesmerized by the fast-paced game. No longer annoyed by the squeaky shoes that once drove me crazy, I was instead driven by an intense need to watch my favorite team! What was happening to me? 

It became easy to lose myself in the game and not have to think for awhile. It's an easy way to lose a couple of hours in an evening. Anyone who has been through loss knows that when it gets dark in the evening, grief hits especially hard. And so, basketball. It is now something Steve and I enjoy watching together! 

I also quit reading like I had before, as I found I was way too distracted by my own silence. I set my books aside for awhile and instead began tearing up magazines with my daughters. I started a collage journal, in which I used words and pictures to represent myself in different stages. I am still working on it. 

When I tell people I am not the same person I was a year ago, I mean it. I don't know how you can go through anything of emotional and physical significance and remain the same. I have been spiritually transformed as well. I don't want to be the same person as before. 

My likes and dislikes may have changed a bit-for example, I don't like red meat much, and that's kind of new..but for the most part, I am still me, but hopefully better every day. 

I've recently started reading again-a few books by Mitch Albom, and I'm enjoying his perspectives. I read The Five People You Meet in Heaven and am currently reading a true story of his, Have a Little Faith. 

Good stuff. 

Life and all of its twists and turns is meant to turn us upside down, but my goal is to land right side up! 

Be blessed. :)

Get Behind Me. I'm Going Forward

It seems that my seizure issues are stable, though I'm still struggling with migraines periodically. I could handle that, but for just over a year now, a new issue started, and I still don't have relief for it. 

It is increasingly frustrating, as it seems I just conquer one health battle, only to have it replaced with another one. The specialist I've seen can't find a solid answer for my condition, and it could be any number of things. Something tells me I will end up back at U of M, new department. Ugh. This is getting old and so am I, waiting for that moment when I finally feel "whole". Will that ever happen? I wonder sometimes. 

On the "good" days, which has been about 2 in the last 14, I do my workout and try to catch up on all my housework. Again, I find myself missing out on life as I pick and choose what things I can't do outside of my home. This issue I'm having can be painful and unbearable and it leaves me exhausted. 

It doesn't surprise me that in the middle of it all I'm still trying to attain a goal of writing a book. However, I find myself very distracted. 

I am blessed to be stubborn, and I tend to shuck my symptoms and stay as positive as I can on the outside. I am rearranging our home office to accommodate my writing space. I'm busy making plans, writing notes, encouraging others, and doing my normal tasks at home for my family. In other words, I'm not letting my illness become my permanent thorn this time. 

Sick of this? Yes. Annoyed enough to fight it and find answers, but not going to let it get the best of me and stop me from doing my thing. 

Get behind me. God didn't bring me this far to just leave me behind now. 

My struggle is to make me strong. Right? 

I'm gonna move mountains, apparently, and it's gonna be a really good book too. 

Be blessed. I'm going to, whether my body agrees or not. 

Choices and Life

It's not fun to blog when I'm on limited internet data...:(  Equally irritating is typing on a phone screen!  My data renews tomorrow, but it gets used up so fast...ugh. Anyway, enough lamenting from Jami/Job. 

Hoping to get this resolved soon! 

I had a nice visit with my mom the other day. She actually made time to come and visit-a rare thing for her busy life. A former workaholic, she retired several years ago and simply replaced work with community and church activities. I don't think she knows how to stop and simply relax, so like I said, it was rare and nice to see her in pause for a change. 

My life, on the other hand, is very different from hers for many reasons. Because I didn't have a lot of time with my mom growing up, I chose to quit my job and stay home to raise my girls. I still believe and will always know that it was the best decision I made for our family and for me. When they started school, I volunteered at school several days a week, and was asked to sub, which I turned down. I volunteered at church, I sat on a committee in my community that benefitted programs for kids. I basically dedicated my life to, around, and for my kids and my family. If I was asked to do something, it had to fit "the family test". If it interfered with my kids or husband in any way, I said no, and it was an easy no. 

Why? Because I grew up with a very busy mother. Getting time with her didn't happen until I took a job in the office she managed when I was a junior in high school. I now know that's probably why I took the job and also took interest in the things she liked. 

This isn't a pick-on, blame-mom, session at all. I feel that we all make our choices based on experiences, and we learn and improve on those experiences. It's when we don't blame and fester that these things mature us and make us better individuals. For me, maybe it has taken longer than it should have taken. 

When my mom learned of my desire to write a book, she said, "you could write about your childhood." I kind of made a face and said, "I don't think so." She replied, "you didn't have a bad childhood." 

I just said, "my perception is my reality." Not necessarily saying my childhood was awful, but also saying it's not up to anyone else to define what was going on in your head as a child. And boy, my head was a mess as a kid. No need or benefit to revisit that. 

 I don't need anyone to validate or acknowledge my past or what was or wasn't done back then, because of who I've become now. It's all good. Now.

The only lesson that should come from anyone's past is that it was yesterday. 

I don't need to write about my childhood to know why I make the choices I make today, or defend the choices I've made by blaming anyone from my past. 

The outcome is that I love my parents, and they did the best they could with what they knew at the time. 

Years from now I hope my kids can say the same for us. 

We do the best we can and so much of what we do is what we've seen modeled for us, and what our life experience has been. Sometimes that's not easy if you didn't get the Walton family card. :) 

But one thing I always tell my girls when they ask me why everything seems like such a struggle: 

"God wants us strong. These hard things are preparing us for bigger things. He doesn't want weaklings for when things get harder. He wants us ready. I'm sorry this is hurting your heart and I wish it was easier. All I can tell you is God is with you every step of the way and He is making you stronger every time you struggle"

.

And they say, "well, it stinks."

Yes, it does. And my mother's heart keeps speaking even while my mouth stays quiet. :( 

Time to Write

I've heard writers say, "don't tell anyone you're working on a book! " Apparently it sets an expectation that you may get it published, when in fact, most submissions get rejected at first. 

I say to that, "oh well!" Do I really care if anyone knows my writing gets rejected? Chances are if it gets rejected, I'll tell them anyway! 

Rejection is probably what has held me back from starting my writing projects in the first place. Blogging is pretty safe, knowing I only have a few gracious readers who aren't correcting my mistakes or making editing suggestions, or telling me my ideas are ridiculous. 

But I think the time for "safe" has run its course. I need to take a step out of my comfort zone and see what else I can do with my writing. I've been saying it for years, thinking about it, and it would be a shame to not back it up with action. 

So 2016, I'm ready for the risk of rejection and frustration. As my oldest graduates from high school and heads off to college, and my youngest starts to drive, I also need some "wings" of my own. Something to call mine. 

If it's a pile of rejection, at least I know I tried! 

Now to write...the real work begins!