A different light

IMG_5905 (2)For a few years now, I’ve received a daily email meant to encourage and inspire me. At various times since my subscription began, I’ve not started my day before checking to see what “The Universe” has to tell me. Other times, weeks, or months go by and I don’t even bother to check.

The messages are kind of new-agey, but sometimes I’ll read one and think “God is really speaking to me,” even though I know there’s a rather quirky guy behind them, sitting at a keyboard, pulling words out of hat and raking in the dough because he’s found a way to capitalize on a great idea. Sometimes the messages make me smile. Or laugh. Or cry. Sometimes they elicit a huge eye roll. They can be really “out there” at times. But considering how much junk I’ve allowed to land in my inbox, and how often I delete emails without even opening them, these continue to keep my attention. The one pictured here is a perfect example why. They make me look deeper inside my own head.

I didn’t even realize the significance of this one at first. I opened it when I’d first arrived at work one day recently, while waiting for my computer to boot up. I read it quickly, and probably was immediately distracted by work before I could give it much thought. Later in the day, I felt compelled to go back to read it again. I saved a screen shot.

I’ve gone back to read the words a few more times since then. And it was only today that I stopped to really contemplate why I’ve been so drawn to this particular note.

The words hit home. Probably because I’ve often been “down” in the past few years, and I’ve sometimes been able to admit that it’s been my own doing.

Quite honestly, I can look all the way back to my childhood and see that this is somewhat a tendency of mine. It’s just a part of me that I’ve had to learn to deal with. Over the years of my life, I’ve recognized it, and  done a lot of work to combat it. I think I’ve made pretty good strides in understanding that happiness is an emotion, not necessarily a state of being. I’ve learned to appreciate how difficulties can build strength and resilience. I’ve come to realize how good joy can feel – whether simple or profound – when there are sorrowful memories to which it can be compared.

But sometimes I forget to – or how to – employ the coping mechanisms. Every year of my life brings new realizations, and the past few have hammered home the fragility of this world and our existence. If there’s one thing aging has helped me understand, it’s that we really need to appreciate what we have when we have it.

I think lately, I’ve let the complexities of the past few years steam-roll me. My dad experienced a years-long decline. And when he left, it wasn’t necessarily quietly or peacefully. Mom’s decline overlapped Dad’s. She needed her kids to help care for Dad in his last few years. I was the kid who lived a block away for twenty-six years. I was the one most often at their beck and call. I’m not gonna pretend it didn’t get old. When Dad died, it was us kids who managed the funeral arrangements because Mom was too weak and sick to tackle any of it on her own. And for a long time since Dad’s been gone, I’ve felt like I was holding my breath with Mom, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I had a recent revelation, that she just might hold on for a long time … in her own very fragile and often depressed state. I spend time with and care for her every other day and often more. Our once-intact family has frayed at the edges and that weighs on both of us. It’s hard to maintain a sense of optimism while trying to hold both of us up.

On top of it all, it still hurts that my closest friend left this world too, much too soon. I sometimes wonder if a day will go by when I don’t think about and miss her. I know I have been blessed with really great friends in this life, but her passing has made me realize how lucky I was to have someone who wanted to be so close to me, who wanted to hear from me nearly daily, who knew all the ins and outs of my life, was so easy to laugh with and who didn’t make me worry much about what I looked like, or which words might spill out of my mouth. Maybe I don’t want the day to come when she doesn’t come to mind so often. I’d just like to hope that someday the ache will be replaced with a lighter feeling in my heart.

Anyway, I seem to be rehashing the very same things that have taken my writing hostage for such a long time … but this time in reference to the note … this particular note from “the universe.” I think it kept pulling me back to gently remind me that how I’m feeling is often a matter of which direction my eyes are looking. Up or down? Inside or out? Too often, I let myself surrender to the weight of my world. Self-pity has become my annoying little friend. I’ve allowed myself to become withdrawn, too often spending the days I don’t have charge of Mom simply collapsing on the couch and crawling into bed as soon as I can get away with it.

It’s fine to be tired and try to catch up on sleep. It’s probably okay to let myself disconnect a little bit too. But I think I need to shift some priorities around, remember all of the wonderful people in my life and carve out some time to recharge my batteries with them, leave the weight of my responsibilities in the background when I have the chance.

Was I super lucky to have a loyal friend who loved me deeply and reminded me often (reminds me still) how important I was to her? YES! Does that mean I can’t let other people step into her shoes now that she’s no longer physically here? No.

Is it really hard to have to take care of an aging parent and feel all of the sad realities that accompany such a role reversal? Yes. Do I want to allow it to continuously darken my mind and heart? NO!

I think that’s why this particular note resonates so deeply with me. It makes me admit that I’ve given up too often, for too long. It reminds me that it’s completely my choice to curl up in a ball and be angry at the world. But has it done me any good? Does it even make other people want to be close to me? Um… probably not. Sometimes I remind myself to just shut up about certain things, and then I hear myself talking about them again and I wonder how people even put up with me anymore. I mean seriously, dude. Look around the world. You don’t have it so bad!

I get so tired of myself sometimes. And I don’t want to do it anymore. Maybe I should take this note from the universe and blow it up to poster size, hang it on the bathroom mirror, tape it to the dashboard, until I’ve seen it so often I have it committed to memory and remember that life has always been … will always be … whatever I make it. Dark or light. I want more light. And apparently, I already have it. I just need to see it.

The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend.

– Henri Bergson

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Dinner with my Brother

So the dinner with my brother and his family happened yesterday. After months of not speaking to one another, I have to say that I think it went very well.

I spent the majority of the day doing the necessary tidying around the house, cleaning bathrooms, vacuuming (futilely) the eternal abundance of dog fur. I wasn’t TOO worried about whether the house was spotless. My brother and his family have two very sheddy dogs themselves. They wouldn’t judge.

I also made a big, BIG (too big) pot of chicken chili. There was shredded cheese, and tortilla chips and Chili Cheese Fritos to sprinkle on top, plus a couple dozen cornbread muffins. Three extra people and Mom came for dinner. I made enough food for two dozen. Better too much than not enough, I always say.

So they came. They gave the dogs much attention and pampering. The guys watched some football and contemplated the possibility of the Vikings making it to the Super Bowl in their hometown. And then warned each other not to jinx it by getting their hopes up. I gabbed with my sister-in-law, Mom and my nephew. We ate the chili and the cornbread muffins and sang the praises of Chili Cheese Fritos. We were almost too full – but not quite – to enjoy my sister-in-law’s mini Bailey’s Irish Cream – chocolate cheesecakes. They were aMAYzing!

Brother and I didn’t talk about what’s been bothering us all these past months. We didn’t hash out the hurts or discuss forgiveness, or hug, or cry. We just hung out like we always used to do. Anyway, Mom was here, and since she’s at the center of what’s gone wrong between my brothers and me, that might have been weird and unfair. Besides, texting seems to be the medium for he and I to say what’s in our hearts. Works for me. I think I’ll text him this morning and tell him how glad I am that he came.

 

Cliché

A new year has begun and I can’t help myself. My thoughts keep turning to how I might make this next trip around the sun better than the last. 2017 left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I’ve come to realize this is largely no one’s fault but my own.

The few words I wrote last year (and the many that I did not,) focused heavily on the stuff that has weighed on me for some time now – my aging mother, the silent war that wages on between her children, and the stifling sense of defeat, depression and sadness that has draped over my soul as a result.

The last quarter of the year really did me in. I had latched on to my anger and bitterness so tightly that I could hardly stand myself. I hadn’t spoken to either of my brothers in months, and every day, my stomach churned with resentment over their continued absence and lack of any sort of support in the daily care of my mom.

I used to be so close to one of my brothers, the one who is two years younger than me. He and his family used to be such a big part of our life. He and his wife used to spend so much time with us years ago. They came over to decorate Easter eggs with us, or carve pumpkins for Halloween, or just to hang out on a long, dreary winter day. He was my kids’ favorite uncle, hands down. And I realized one day in recent weeks, that in spite of all the reasons I’ve had to be mad at him … I missed him. I just missed him.

Why I’ve continued to remain connected to him on Facebook, I don’t know. I suppose it was just some twisted need to know what was going on in his life, and allow myself to feed my resentment every time I saw evidence that he had any opportunity to enjoy life without having to stop and worry about our mom. I could remind myself once again how unfair it was that my brothers seemed to have abandoned her, and left me and my sister to do all of the worrying and care-giving. But I realized maybe it was a good thing after all when I saw that he posted a Facebook status after Christmas, saying how he used to look forward to the holidays, but now he’s just glad they are over. It sunk in that for months, I have failed to think for a moment what it might be like to be in his shoes, and that maybe there was more to his absence than sheer selfishness.

Before I could talk myself out of it, before I could make a list of reasons that I might regret it, I sent him a text, telling him I felt the same way. I said I hated how divided our family had become, that Christmas just wasn’t the same joyful holiday I used to see it as, and that I knew I bore some of the responsibility for the huge mess that is now our family.

My mind was riddled with thoughts about how hurt I was going to be if he fired back at me in anger, or worse, didn’t respond at all. I tried to hang on to the hope that even if nothing changed as far as his involvement with Mom, I could work together with him to repair our relationship. And to my surprise, he responded immediately. My phone dinged over and over as he sent buckets of words back to me, expressing his sorrow over being at odds with me and my family. Words of regret and explanation poured back and forth between us, and tears were shed on both sides of the conversation. We finally made plans for his family to come spend an evening at my house in the near future.

I cannot begin to describe, or even really understand the relief I’m feeling. We are a long ways from repairing all of the damage that has been done, and it’s quite likely that some of the family divisions may never be healed. But I’m trying not to focus on the what-ifs. I just know that I’m only beginning to understand the real meaning of forgiveness, and hoping that I can keep myself from falling back into old habits. I don’t know what it all means, especially because I still feel a lot of resentment toward my youngest brother and can’t see taking any first steps with him at this point. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure my sister is going to be hurt and angry with me, since it has been “us against them” for such a long time.

I guess I’m just allowing myself to be okay with baby steps at this point, and trying not to feel pressured to figure it all out right away. I only know that I haven’t liked myself very much lately. I’m reminded again that “they” are right when they say that withholding forgiveness hurts no one but myself. I’m tired of opening my eyes every morning and my first thoughts being dark. I just think there’s a lot that needs to change inside of me before I can find the sense of peace that I seem to forever be chasing.

So here I am, at the beginning of another year, setting goals and hoping hopes that I can get something right in whatever number of days I have ahead of me. I wish my resolutions could be as simple as improving my diet, exercising more, or getting more organized. I still need to work on those things, but I have to dig a little deeper than that this year. And maybe one of these days I’ll find that the world has become just a little bit better place.

Three Things

Happiness is something I frequently contemplate. I think I’m always chasing it to some degree, yet recognizing that I don’t always succeed as much as I’d prefer. How many times have I written about trying to be happier, only to feel as if it is constantly slipping through my fingers?

I was listening to a sermon online a few weeks ago, as I sometimes do in the mornings while in front of the bathroom mirror getting ready for work. I’ve pretty much stopped attending church altogether, but over the past several years I’ve found a couple of churches to which I’ve become a frequent virtual attendee. I like the way they remind me that it’s normal to be imperfect. We all are. There’s no hope of ever being perfect, so I can just relax in my imperfection and be comfortable just doing the best I can. And I like the way they break down the bible and relate it to real life.

This particular sermon I recently heard was focused on … well, I don’t actually remember the specific Bible passages. But one portion of it addressed the world’s collective need for happiness. One point specifically struck a chord with me. And that was that happiness isn’t supposed to be a permanent state. Happiness is a feeling, an emotion, just like all of the other feelings and emotions. It’s not right or wrong. It’s just one of the many, although certainly much more pleasurable than some of the others. And that’s probably why we think we need and deserve more of it than the others.

The concept stuck with me because it helped me just to realize that it’s normal to feel less than happy. I often do. As I’ve so often written, I just can’t wrap my head around having to switch roles with my mom. I’ve become the one who worries, loses sleep, and constantly feels as if I’m juggling responsibilities and eternally falling short. It’s hard to feel consistently happy while being witness to the daily decline caused by a disease that robs Mom of the well-being we all expect to enjoy during our retirement years. That happy old-age thing is just not the way it is for so many, I know. I just hate having to be reminded all the time, simultaneously wondering how long I get to have her with me … and whether I’ll ever be able to relax again.

I try to remind myself that this is life. This is just life. After all, I once heard that we’re not here to live. We’re here to die. That’s our only certainty. And all we can do is make the most of the days between now and then. Most of us don’t know for certain how many days we get, so that’s the challenge. Make the most of each one while never knowing which one is the last.

So back to the sermon. It talked about a study that was done in which a group of people was surveyed about how happy they feel. The group was then divided in two. One half of the group was to go on doing nothing different from what they normally do, while the other half was instructed to keep a daily record for the next several weeks of three things for which they were grateful. Afterwards, both groups completed another survey to measure their levels of happiness. Not surprisingly, the group that kept a daily gratefulness record saw a significant increase in their level of happiness.

I listened to that sermon weeks ago and it occurred to me that I should do that again. I say “again” because I have periodically made a habit of keeping a record of the good stuff, and I have usually found it to be beneficial if only because it helps keep my focus a little more heavy on the right instead of the wrong. And yet, I have failed to pick up the habit again, probably because the only thing I’m doing consistently lately is being inconsistent.

But here I am this morning, with a little bit of time on my hands. And so with hope (but no promises) of making this a habit here or elsewhere, I will document three things for which I am grateful.

  1. A “day” job – For thirty-plus years, my husband has worked rotating shifts. Since before our kids were born, Jack might be gone days, afternoons, nights, or weekends. Sometimes he’s been able to join the family for holidays, birthdays and special occasions, sometimes not. Just over a month ago, an opportunity came his way. We evaluated the change in pay and our finances, and agreed we were ready to make the leap. No more working the weekends (unless he chooses to put in some overtime.) No more working on holidays. No more missing out on invitations because he has to work. YAY!
  2. Adult kids living at home – Since the start of this past summer, all three of my adult kids have been living at home, in various states of temporary. I knew from the get-go that this would pose its challenges, not the least of which include the daily juggling of shower time and the battle for laundry facilities. But overall, it has been a joy. I never felt ready for any of them to leave the nest when they did. This has been a nice reprieve, giving me a second chance to prepare myself for the quiet that is sure to fill this house again. And next time, I’ll feel more ready for it.
  3. Over-the-counter, non-habit-forming sleep aids – Several months ago, I stopped sleeping. It took its toll and I recognized that it was making me very angsty, frustrated and short-fused. While I was aware that there are several logical contributors to my lack of sleep at this stage of my life, it didn’t make things any easier. I’ve never been a fan of taking a pill to help me do something I should be able to accomplish on my own, but one day, I’d simply had enough. I broke down and bought something to help me stay asleep. I am thrilled to say that I am sleeping through the night again, even having pleasant dreams, and I’ve come down a few notches. I feel more relaxed, better focused, and able to just deal with stuff. Oh, sleep, how I love you!

That felt good, just identifying three good things. It’s made me realize that I could easily keep listing good things, and maybe that’s just the motivation I need to pick up this habit again. But I’ll save it for another day. And if anyone is still stopping by here anymore, I’d love to read about your good things!

White Pine Memories

The white pine in our back yard was never a beautiful tree. It didn’t provide a nice blanket of shade, only spotty patches. In fact, I always thought it was more a nuisance than anything. It grew tall and disproportionately wide, and dropped hundreds upon hundreds of tiny little pine cones into the grass. The pine cones always seemed to burrow into the lawn, causing a hazard for anyone wandering around the yard barefoot, which I tend to do.

Jack bought two of these trees during the first year we were in our house. We were young, didn’t have a lot of money, and had a brand new baby. The trees were cheap, and he planted one in the front yard and one in the back. They were never pretty, but they helped reduce the vast expanse of nothingness until we could afford to improve the landscaping.

A beautiful maple as well as a flowering crab-apple tree were eventually added to the front yard. I always wished for a prettier, leaf-bearing tree in the back too. For many years, the kids swing set took up the only other available space. Later it was one of those things that was always on the list of home improvements, but forever low on the priority list … until disease struck the lone pine tree. It started showing signs last summer. By this spring, it was good and dead.

This long, Memorial Day weekend provided the opportunity to take the tree down. Jack sawed off as many of the branches as he could and hauled them away late last week. Then on Saturday, he managed the chain saw, cutting notches in just the right places low on the tree trunk. Chesney and I held a rope, guiding and pulling the old tree down into the yard where it wouldn’t fall on the shed, the deck or the house.

It’s never been a secret that I wasn’t a fan of that tree. When it was down, and the clean-up work was finished, Jack asked if I was happy. “Happy” wasn’t exactly what I was feeling. The removal of the tree left a slight emptiness both in the yard and surprisingly, in me.

The tree wasn’t merely a tree. Even though I always thought it was ugly, it had become a part of our days here in this home. It was a refuge to many birds over the years. It was second base for countless numbers of the kids’ wiffle ball games. Lucy circled that tree daily as the squirrels she chased sought refuge high above where she couldn’t reach them and they joyfully taunted her.

It feels strange to see the openness where the tree once stood. Before the summer is gone, I plan to design a fire pit in the place where the stump remains. I have visions of sitting around a bonfire with family and friends, sharing stories and roasting marshmallows. We’ll add new family memories to the wiffle ball memories.

A new tree will eventually be planted elsewhere in the yard. We’ll make a new place for the birds to rest and entertain us with their songs, a new squirrel-chasing track for Lucy, something that years down the road, promises to offer shade.

As so many other things in this life have taught me, the loss of the tree offers yet another example of the ways that life always goes on.

Full House

One of my immediate goals is to clean out some clutter around this house. With the building of the addition last summer, and all of the trickle-down projects that happened in the wake of it, there still always seems to be a task in process, and a pile of tools and supplies taking up residence somewhere in or around the house.

A lot of painting happened inside over the late winter months. Almost every room in the upper level needed to be touched up or fully repainted after the new ceilings were done. Most recently, Jack finished the trim work on the new windows in all of the bedrooms. The spare bedroom became the temporary storeroom for tools and supplies that would be put to use again soon.

The indoor projects are pretty much wrapped up now, and we need to start focusing on redoing the landscaping in the back yard. (And the privacy fence that needs to be rebuilt, and the tree that needs to come down, and a host of other little things.) And I want the inside of the house back in order, not only the areas impacted by our recent home improvements, but the closets and storage areas that have begun to overflow. (I think it’s just inevitable after twenty-nine years in the same house.)

So yesterday I began to tidy up the spare bedroom. And actually, there’s a more compelling reason for cleaning it up than the simple fact that I can’t stand the clutter anymore. We need the room for its actual purpose. So someone can sleep in there.

Oldest son Jaeger is moving back home! With his dog, Dacotah. YUP! We’re going to be one big, happy (or insane) family again.

Call me crazy, but I think we’re going in the wrong direction here. These kids of ours keep moving BACK home again. What’s wrong with this picture?

Okay, so Jaeger’s move back home is a temporary thing, and actually, I couldn’t be happier. He’s been living in Fargo, ND for almost ten years, since he started his freshman year at NDSU. After graduation, there was a job waiting for him and he stayed. He was only four hours away from home, but still … four hours! I can’t tell you how often I’ve wished he lived close enough to come by for a Sunday family dinner or to just hang out together on a weekend.

Late last year, Jaeger started feeling stuck in his job and decided to start looking for other opportunities. When he said he thought he’d look for something closer to home, I was thrilled! A few weeks ago, he interviewed with a company in downtown, Minneapolis. He was told that the next time they called, he would know if he made it through to the second round of interviews. The week before last, he got the call he’d been expecting. We all had our fingers crossed for that second interview, but even better, he received an immediate job offer!

I am so proud! This sounds like a really good company with lots of room for growth and opportunity. Months ago, Jaeger switched the lease on his apartment in Fargo to a month-to-month agreement. We knew that when the right job came along, he wanted to be available to start right away and we agreed to his moving back home if necessary. So now that has happened and in June, he’s going to come back for a while, just until he can get settled and find a place of his own.

I’m trying to see this as an adventure. There will be five adults in this house and I know that’s going to be a challenge at times, but all too soon, I know this nest is going to empty out again. So I’m going to enjoy this full house while I can!

 

Disconnected

Challenging.

That’s how everything feels lately. Like something that must be tackled. I don’t remember ever having felt so overwhelmed in life before. I don’t remember feeling this … uncertain, anxious… even when I had a house full of babies. If ever there was a time I would have expected to feel that everything was so precarious, it was then. But if I did, it wasn’t like this. At least then I remember there being a lot of space in my brain for possibility. Lately, there seems to be no space for possibility. Just a lot of have-tos and worries and a total sense that life is too frail, time is slipping away, and the world is passing by without me.

This is as good as it gets. And right now, that’s a depressing thought.

I blame my age. As a woman who turned fifty half a year ago, that shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. I blame this time of life. Plus caring for an aging parent. And also an extended family that is gradually and certainly breaking completely apart like a tree limb that’s been split from its trunk.

I have spent years practicing positivity and trying to deepen my faith. As someone raised in an environment that wasn’t always the happiest, I once felt I’d made leaps and bounds through those practices. They are still the things that keep me sane sometimes.

It feels rather defeating to so often feel so … defeated.

I was comparing notes with a friend last week, telling her how much I dislike where my head and heart are at these days. She’s a few years older, and she described her experiences. There were some relational challenges in her life at the time as well, and she referred to it as her dark ages.

“I felt so sad all the time.”

YES.

“And lonely.”

YES.

“Just … unhappy.”

YES. Me too.

I have worked hard to stop dwelling on negative things, and people I cannot change. But lately I can’t seem to help it. I once was a morning person, and though I still wake up at a ridiculously dark hour, I do not welcome the morning. I have to REALLY talk myself into it. Once I leave the bed and force myself to do some physical activity, I feel a little bit better. I just don’t like having to fight myself so hard for it.

Of course, there are reasons beyond the physical for my difficulties. It would be one thing if I was just a fifty year-old woman struggling with being a fifty year-old woman. But it’s more than that.

On top of this stage of life, I’ve never experienced such deep family hurts before. And as much as I’ve often thought I wouldn’t care that much if some of them just walked away… I do care. I don’t want to, but I do. I’ve written about it endlessly here, and there just seems to be no end in sight. There are moments of hope … just enough to make it hurt that much more when I realize nothing has really changed. My extended family is SO broken. And what’s to blame? My dad’s passing a year and a half ago? Mom’s failing health and need for care? Sheer selfishness? There have been so many words spoken in anger and hurt feelings, as well as an enormous lack of communication, empathy, and willingness to forgive one another.

It is all of the above and more. We’re supposed to love and support each other, but instead there is only resentment and apathy. I have to wonder if there’s ever any coming back from this, or if at some point when Mom is gone from our lives, we’ll all go our separate ways.

Me personally? I’m guilty of bitterness. Buckets and buckets of it. I feel like I’m losing myself sometimes amidst the cycle of life. And it all just makes me so sad.

I don’t understand the abandonment, not so much my own sense of it, but of our mom. I feel like I’ve been battling with this anger and hurt for ages, and lately I just feel a sense of hopelessness. I tell myself I’m going to let it go. And I might, for a while. And then it comes back and I can’t help myself. I wrap my arms around it and inevitably … darkness.

In my defense, the most recent bout of this was brought on when Mom cried, telling me how forgotten she sometimes feels by other family members. It killed me to see her cry. Something snapped inside of me. When they came around again recently, for what I’m sure will turn out to be one of their quarterly visits, she got all giddy about it. Inside, I worried that her expectations had been built up once again, only to be crushed when promises to come by and have dinner with her  “one day next week” fail to transpire again and again.

I think there are only a few who really know how much I’m struggling and I’m grateful for their support and willingness to share their own experiences. I was relieved when one friend supportively said that she still sees me as a person with goals and a sense of humor. When I said that I just so often feel that I’ve left myself behind, that I don’t do so many of the things that used to be important to me, she suggested I start writing again.

“I don’t have time,” I said.

“Wrong,” she replied. “You don’t MAKE time.”

“No, but I …”

“Just make it a goal to write down some goals each week, even privately. You don’t have to write for others or spend hours doing it. Just make some goals and hold yourself to them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I agreed. “I used to write weekly, but couldn’t help typing out paragraph after paragraph. Maybe I can’t create an extra hour in my days for writing, but a few minutes here and there … maybe.”

She made me realize that part of my sadness is that I’ve become so disconnected from everyone and everything that fuels me. For a good reason, maybe, but disconnected nonetheless. I need to reconnect in healthy ways.  (Cuz let me tell ya, scrolling through the FaceB00k highlight reel isn’t cuttin’ it.)

So maybe I’ll try to get back here more often, make a few minutes here and there to speak words of encouragement to myself and others instead of wallowing in self-pity. I need to reconnect.

On relationships … and forgiveness

A couple of years ago, I wrote on a few occasions about a work associate who simply rubbed me the wrong way. She is someone I’ve worked with since I started my career with our company more than twelve years ago. I may have referred to her as “Babs” at one point.

Babs is a woman with a strong personality. She rarely exhibits any lack of confidence, and she loves to be in charge, whether or not her role formally requires it, and whether or not her knowledge and experience warrant it. A couple of years ago, I was working closely with Babs. We were peers … equals … and yet she seemed to always be hovering over me, checking my work, trying to boss me around. And she was putting me over the edge.

People sometimes tell me I’m “too nice.” I sometimes think, “If you could only hear some of the thoughts in my head…” And deep down, I recognize that my reluctance to engage in confrontation may contribute to the label of nice. My feelings toward Babs sometimes bordered on hatred, but I would never let it show. And I don’t regret that. I’ve never wanted to be that person. A coworker actually voiced similar feelings to someone who matters, and it didn’t do her any favors.

I remember writing about my frustrations with Babs. It was the only way I could find to relieve the pressure. I’m sure I wrote some things that were not very kind or fair. And while even at the time, I may have recognized that Babs’ behavior likely resulted from a sense of insecurity, I seemed unwilling to admit that my own reaction to her probably came from a similar place.

Fast-forward a couple of years. I got my wish. There was a reorganization in our division, and Babs was the only member of our small team to find herself in unfamiliar territory. The rest of us were quietly thrilled. Her physical location barely changed. Her desk was still located just a few feet and one cubicle wall away. But it was enough to take the pressure off. She may have still been “right there,” but she no longer had any stake in what we did or how we did it.

I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that inside, I felt a sense of pure GLEE over the relocation of Babs. She was in a new department, one composed of people who had valuable skills, but whom management wasn’t quite sure how to use just yet. I was fairly certain that Babs’ inability to “play nice” with others contributed to her move. She is smart and savvy, but she had created noticeable divisions in our department.

This new department seemed at first, a placeholder. The insecurity that I’d previously suspected in Babs visibly surfaced. She stopped by my desk on many occasions to lament her situation, saying she felt like she’d been outcast. She expressed that she was no longer sure of herself or how she fit in. She worried about her new role, and the fact that she had no idea what she was doing. She half-joked many times that she was sure someone would catch on and she would soon be fired. Any sense of pity I may have felt for her was quickly overshadowed by the idea that she somehow had this coming.

It’s been some time now since that reorganization. New business has found its way to Babs’ department, and the team is moving full steam ahead. Babs seems to have found her footing and she’s busy. So busy that days go by without a single word from her. I have a much greater sense of peace in my role ever since, and I know that I have flourished in the change.

Yesterday, Babs stopped by, not for business reasons, but to show me a photo she’d had printed on canvas. We both have an interest in photography and she knew I’d appreciate it. The canvas print was beautiful, and we marveled over it together. And a realization hit me like a frying pan to the head.

I was actually enjoying my conversation with Babs. I realized that although we may not mix well when working closely together, I might actually be able to  like her. Had our relationship started on another foot, who knows how different things might be today?

The whole thing taught me a bit about myself. That maybe people can change. Or that maybe I have to be willing to look at someone from another angle to appreciate who they really are and why they behave the way they do. I was so certain of who Babs was, but maybe she only looked the way she did to me, because of where I was standing. I considered that the things that bother me most about a person might just be a small reflection of the flaws I don’t want to admit to in my own self.

And maybe a whole lot of this is simply a willingness to set aside judgment and forgive a little.

This gives me hope for other relationships in my life that are less than what I’d like them to be. Maybe nothing changes today. Probably not tomorrow either. But someday. There is always hope.

I just need to talk about things

I miss this … coming here and talking out the things that are going on in life. I’d like to say I’ve figured out how to come back and do this more regularly, but somehow I know that’s a promise I can’t keep for the forseeable future. But for today …

Life in a Nutshell

Mom: Mom is doing well with her home care services. I think it’s been almost two months now. Barb comes Monday through Thursday, and Amanda on Fridays. Mom has come to know quite a bit about both of them and looks forward to their time together each day. There were a couple of conversations in which she mentioned to me that she’ll miss them when she no longer has their company. When I asked what she meant, she said she didn’t feel right spending the kind of money it costs to keep their services.  A few weeks later, she stated that she didn’t feel right spending as much as it costs for these services  when sometimes she doesn’t have much for her helpers to do.

I told her that it’s part of their job to simply provide companionship and they don’t always have to be doing some kind of heavy project. I reminded her how much better she’s been (in body and spirit) since she began having some daily assistance. Not to mention, this is exactly why, when she was working, she saved and invested some of her money the way she did. She should NOT be thinking she needs to save her retirement funds to leave as an inheritance to her children. I suggested she start by cutting back the daily hours from four to three before making any drastic changes in her services. I refrained from adding that I, for one, am happy that these services mean I’m not running to Target, the grocery store, and the pharmacy every time Mom remembers something she needs immediately. Which seemed like it was every other day.

I’m still having dinner with Mom many evenings each week, and that’s just fine with me. I just don’t want to have to do all of her chores in addition. Since she’s had her home care services, I feel like I’ve gained back a small sliver of my life again.

Vacation: On February 17th, Jack and I took off for eight days in Mazatlan, Mexico. Two days prior, I started feeling the inkling of a head cold. I wasn’t worried. I figured a couple of days under the Mexican sun would have me feeling good again.

Wrong. I haven’t been what I would describe as truly sick in years. But this little head cold turned out to be a whopper of a sinus infection. I spent most of my vacation feeling pretty miserable as the virus traveled from my sinuses, to my throat, and finally to my chest. I sucked it up as much as possible, but sometimes it was an effort to play along. About mid-week, I spent the better part of a day in bed in our hotel room, watching movies on HBO, sleeping, and feeling sorry for myself. I missed seeing Jack go boogie boarding that day!

Around Friday that week, I started feeling somewhat human again and enjoyed a fantastic day on the beach with our travel friends. Saturday we returned home. The silver lining is that while everyone else was lamenting that the week had been too short and they wanted more time, I really was looking forward to getting back home to my own bed. Home never felt so good!

Kids: The kids are all in good places. Jaeger is still living in Fargo, but working furiously on securing a job back here in Minnesota so he can be closer to family again. He has a new romantic interest. She happens to live in this area, so I’m sure that adds some extra fire to his efforts to get back here. I’m not complaining! 🙂

Ryker also has a new girlfriend. We have met her, and she’s lovely! He seems happier, and I like the effect she’s having on him. He’s doing a bit of maturing , and also seems more interested in spending time with the family, something he hasn’t done much of in recent years.

Chesney is just steady as always. She held down the fort at home while we were in Mexico, spending time with and making meals for my mom, as well as handling an unexpected visit to the vet when poor Lucy ended up with a pretty major bladder infection. Before we came home from Mexico, she made sure to clean the house (to my standards) and picked up some groceries so I wouldn’t have to do those things immediately upon our return. Once again, I wonder how I got so lucky to have a daughter like her. She and her boyfriend continue to be serious, and I’ve started hearing him make little comments about how and when he might propose. YEEEEE! 🙂

Jack: Hubby was diagnosed with a herniated disc several months ago and he has been battling the pain and discomfort ever since. All of the little touch up projects around the house that needed to be done after the addition was finished last fall have gone untouched. Now that life has slowed down a bit, I’m taking over where I can. I’ll do the touch-up painting. I’ll get someone to install the new light fixtures. Oh… and I guess I’d better figure out how to take down a couple of dying trees in the yard this spring. If Jack doesn’t improve enough to tackle it, my boys should be able to help.

Extended family: Continues to crumble. I’m beginning to accept it and am learning not to dwell on it. Bitterness doesn’t look good on anyone. I’m done trying to save our family. Moving forward with my own little family pod. They and my mom are what’s most important.

Work: Work is my saving grace right now. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and purpose, something I feel like I can do just for me. Things are going beyond well. There are some new initiatives happening and a particular VP has taken a liking to me. I’m being pulled up in several ways and being offered opportunities that take me out of my comfort zone, yet seem to always prove I’m capable of so much more than I tend to give myself credit for. Since I went back to the workforce after my years of running a home daycare, I’ve often recognized that I like to work. I like to challenge my brain and contribute to any kind of growth. And once again, I realize how blessed I am to work in a company and in a position that offer fulfillment and opportunities to keep advancing.

Faith: Is my other saving grace right now. I’m continuing to feed my head and heart with all the encouragement I can find. I’m retraining my brain to think positively (and forgivingly) as much as possible, in spite of how easy it is to just … sink. To do otherwise just makes me crazy and miserable, and I’m just not interested in being that person.

Until next time… whenever that may be!

So Much Better

My sense of well-being these days depends heavily on how my mom is doing. These past couple of weeks, she’s continued to steadily improve, and I am feeling hopeful again.

During her stay in the hospital last month, and in the days following, things looked bad. Really bad. Mom was SO weak and still feeling so very sick. I honestly thought the end was coming. I couldn’t help but worry at her insistence at staying at home all alone. I disaster-fantasized about all of the worrisome things that might happen while I was at work and too far away to help if something happened. I moved through my days with an ache like a vice around my chest. My sleep was restless and I felt a heavy depression that was impossible to shake. Nothing else in my world felt good.

Fast forward to today. Week two of Mom’s home-care services is under our belts, and I’m marking it a success. She’s on a consistent schedule now, with Barb, who is about my age, coming to care for Mom Monday through Thursday, and young Amanda on Fridays. Every day, I’m amazed at how good Mom looks and sounds. In fact, her spirit shines brighter now than it seemingly has in years. I continue to be amazed at the positive impact resulting from a few hours of compassionate care and peaceful companionship each day. Best decision we ever made, and worth every penny! I am so grateful to these women who dedicate their time to making Mom’s life more comfortable and happy.

And so life has begun to feel more manageable and steady again. I’ve needed to make a few adjustments myself, finally realizing that I have to focus only on what I can do myself to care for Mom, and dropping any expectations I have of others. Expectations often lead to disappointment, and the only person hurt by that disappointment is me.

My level of responsibility at work has increased significantly of late, and it feels good to be able to focus on it. I’m feeling strong and confident about where my work life is going. I’m enjoying my work again!

I’ve been able to carve out a little time again for myself, my own family, and enjoyed a Friday night dinner with some old friends.

I’m starting to realize that life is a series of little journeys, all woven together into the path of my life. This most recent one has been a real test, though I’m grateful the really difficult part was relatively short-lived. I’ve begun to see that surviving in life is largely a matter of believing you can. But believing is sometimes the hardest battle. Every day, I lean more heavily on my faith, which I continue to marvel at when I think how much I shunned it just a few short years ago. I’m learning the importance of being thankful both for the things that I recognize as good, and even those that are not. I’m learning to consider that even the tough things sometimes hold a larger purpose. Every day I see that my struggles often pale in comparison to those of others, and that fact alone gives me the resolve I need to keep striving for a positive attitude. It takes work but it is so worth it. This is what life is all about! I don’t like the person I am when self-pity takes over, and I’m proud to say that more often, I’m leaving her behind. Lately, I’m beginning to feel a sense of peace. I know it’s what will encourage me through the best and the worst days to come.