On October 8th another beautiful soul came into this world. Practically perfect, she took my heart, including pieces of it that I didn't know I had. Tiny, tiny fingers and toes, a sweet round nose, I was completely unprepared for this love. This grandbaby girl love that truly doesn't compare to any other love I have known (and I've known a few).
There are no grandparent rights, legal, or otherwise. Every moment I have with this grandchild is a gift. The mistakes, real or imagined, that I made with my own children need not be made again. I am not new to this game, overtired or overworked will not apply to me. Every moment shared is an act of faith by her parents that I will only build her up, put her first, fill her heart and the hearts of subsequent grand babies, with joy. And this is a roll I do not take lightly.
When I think of my own grandma and mom, (lofty goals, indeed) I won't try to imitate them, but certainly emulate a few of their traits. Already, I have big, big plans with this little gal. And in the beginning, I imagine those plans will include a little Gordon McRae playing in the background while I tell her amazing stories of where she came from and how many people love her. I will tell her how wide her families are, not bound by blood but by a tremendous love of her parents that now includes her. Blessed with many great grandparents living, I will tell her about those already gone. I will tell her about the big dogs that would have loved her fiercely all the while trying to convince the little one here that this baby is what a best friend looks like. I cannot carry a tune or keep in step but that will not diminish the songs we will sing or the moves we will make.
And the list goes on and on. If I am lucky, if I am blessed to get a whole lot of living with this girl and those that may come along after her, I won't take it for granted. I won't waste my days with idle work when there will be a Nora to learn from and love. I won't take for granted that her mom and dad will bring her to my house instead of a daycare. I won't take it for granted that my husband knows this worth is far greater than the paycheck I would bring home. I won't take it for granted that my grandchild is near me, not across the country or the world, that the stars aligned to keep them close to us.
I was pregnant no where near my parents, there had to be drives across country and flights across the Atlantic for them to meet my children. Watching the little person I made make a little person was really quite amazing. I tried desperately to be like my mom and not offer unsolicited advice (and I failed miserably). And my mom, being a neonatal nurse, was wholly qualified to offer advice! And now, watching these two kids with their kid, I know they need no real advice. They know how to love her with their whole selves and everything else they can google.
Thursday, October 17, 2019
Monday, September 16, 2019
A continuing evolution
I stopped praying a few months ago. I stopped having faith in a greater power. I stopped the insestint struggle I had with my relationship with God. And I am no worse for wear. In fact, I am far more at peace knowing that as the world appears to collapse around us, I don't have to be angry at a god who does not appear to listen to the pleas of his most desperate people. I can blame humans for this shit and I can look to humans to help their fellow humans and the world we share.
I mean no disrespect to people who have a relationship with God, that find comfort in prayer, in worship. I did. The Catholic mass used to be a place of huge respite for me. And then I found more conflict inside of me as I listened to the homilies of priests that represented a church that did not own its mistakes, its huge, life altering, life ruining mistakes. I couldn't hear the message of love because I became fixated on the lack of responsibility the church showed in the abuses of children, in the coercion of its young priests, in its rapes of nuns at the hands of priests. I felt like the church was looking to blame society, media and the "sin" of homosexuality. None of that sounded like love to me. So, I stopped going to mass, removed my name from the parishioner list, changed my funeral plans and no longer identified myself as catholic.
But my struggle was still there. I covered up my LET GO LET GOD tattoo. Now it just says "LET GO" and that's what I did. I let go of having faith in a greater power. I now think of god as a bigger power, but not greater. I don't wonder about his plan for me, I don't fight so hard against his will. I don't really think there is a plan and if there is, it appears to be a poor one.
I recently read an article in National Geographic about sacred text. The article mentioned that at one point, men gathered to decide what books would be in the bible. I read another article online about how the word homosexual and its variations were not in early bibles but only appeared later. Early texts used a word to describe someone that was a child abuser, which is not a synonym of homosexual. How do I trust the words written in the bible as the word of God when I see so much evidence of the hand of man mucking it all up? So, I decided to pick and choose what I wanted to use in my life, much like Thomas Jefferson did and self-righteous people do.
And this I know, it does not matter if I believe, if I pray, if I do what Jesus did (because I wouldn't, let's be honest, I am not aiding lepers or volunteering to die on crosses). What matters is how I live my life here because I am here not because I am trying to secure a spot there. Love thy neighbor regardless of their sexual orientation, immigration status or religion but judge them on their shopping cart habits.
I was tired of hearing the phrases 'god's will' and 'free will'. I was tired of those being the answer to every question that haunted me. I was tired of the idea that an infant born with cancer was somehow "god's will" because if it was, god was a jerk. The Amazon is on fire, God should be able to make it rain but instead sends a killer hurricane to already destitute areas. How is any of that behavior the behavior of someone I want to look up to, worship, confide in and trust? So, I trust the people raising money to help fight the fires, that help fight the cancers, that help rebuild the islands. I send them my dollars instead of giving it to an organization that has had to pay hush money to altar boys.
I won't pray for you. I won't ask you to keep me in your prayers. I will bless you when you sneeze because I don't know what else to say, but I don't really mean it in that way.
But in all of my thinking, I still have some contradictory truths. I know that my mom is in heaven. I still love to visit churches and would not turn down a trip to the vatican. I have a big collection of crosses and nativity scenes that I do not intend to get rid of. I am still defensive toward Martin Luther and his influence on the iconoclasts. I am not an atheist or even an agnostic. I am simply a non participant. And probably a ticket holder to hell.
I mean no disrespect to people who have a relationship with God, that find comfort in prayer, in worship. I did. The Catholic mass used to be a place of huge respite for me. And then I found more conflict inside of me as I listened to the homilies of priests that represented a church that did not own its mistakes, its huge, life altering, life ruining mistakes. I couldn't hear the message of love because I became fixated on the lack of responsibility the church showed in the abuses of children, in the coercion of its young priests, in its rapes of nuns at the hands of priests. I felt like the church was looking to blame society, media and the "sin" of homosexuality. None of that sounded like love to me. So, I stopped going to mass, removed my name from the parishioner list, changed my funeral plans and no longer identified myself as catholic.
But my struggle was still there. I covered up my LET GO LET GOD tattoo. Now it just says "LET GO" and that's what I did. I let go of having faith in a greater power. I now think of god as a bigger power, but not greater. I don't wonder about his plan for me, I don't fight so hard against his will. I don't really think there is a plan and if there is, it appears to be a poor one.
I recently read an article in National Geographic about sacred text. The article mentioned that at one point, men gathered to decide what books would be in the bible. I read another article online about how the word homosexual and its variations were not in early bibles but only appeared later. Early texts used a word to describe someone that was a child abuser, which is not a synonym of homosexual. How do I trust the words written in the bible as the word of God when I see so much evidence of the hand of man mucking it all up? So, I decided to pick and choose what I wanted to use in my life, much like Thomas Jefferson did and self-righteous people do.
And this I know, it does not matter if I believe, if I pray, if I do what Jesus did (because I wouldn't, let's be honest, I am not aiding lepers or volunteering to die on crosses). What matters is how I live my life here because I am here not because I am trying to secure a spot there. Love thy neighbor regardless of their sexual orientation, immigration status or religion but judge them on their shopping cart habits.
I was tired of hearing the phrases 'god's will' and 'free will'. I was tired of those being the answer to every question that haunted me. I was tired of the idea that an infant born with cancer was somehow "god's will" because if it was, god was a jerk. The Amazon is on fire, God should be able to make it rain but instead sends a killer hurricane to already destitute areas. How is any of that behavior the behavior of someone I want to look up to, worship, confide in and trust? So, I trust the people raising money to help fight the fires, that help fight the cancers, that help rebuild the islands. I send them my dollars instead of giving it to an organization that has had to pay hush money to altar boys.
I won't pray for you. I won't ask you to keep me in your prayers. I will bless you when you sneeze because I don't know what else to say, but I don't really mean it in that way.
But in all of my thinking, I still have some contradictory truths. I know that my mom is in heaven. I still love to visit churches and would not turn down a trip to the vatican. I have a big collection of crosses and nativity scenes that I do not intend to get rid of. I am still defensive toward Martin Luther and his influence on the iconoclasts. I am not an atheist or even an agnostic. I am simply a non participant. And probably a ticket holder to hell.
Friday, February 15, 2019
Looking For a Bloke Like Joseph
I've had three horrible dreams in the past four weeks, two on the same night. The dreams were all different though two were related. In each dream, I had an overwhelming sense of dread. I could feel that dread spread up my legs, pinning me in my place. In each dream, I knew that I needed help and tried to yell for it but could not get the sound out. During each of these dreams, my sweet husband, still recovering from back surgery had to try and wake me. The first dream was just days after his surgery. The other two dreams came during the week of my own bout of diverticulitis. It would make sense that all these dreams were in response to the stress I was under. I did my due diligence and sleep paralysis was my internet diagnosis. Turns out that I may have been in an in between of sleep and awake and that is why I so clearly remember the physical and visual experience. I now try to not sleep on my back, which is one cause. There didn't seem to be much in the way of other solutions other than reduce stress.
Aside from these dreams, I am constantly having dreams about people that I used to know. I wake up from these sad or frustrated or, usually, pissed. So my question to a dream decipherer is this, how do I shut off my mind when I shut off the lights?
I don't buy the stressful life theory aside from the two aforementioned episodes. My life is pretty easy, pretty stress free. Roof over my head, food on my table, gas in my car. Anything else is stress I am making up. So with that in mind, I would expect the sleep paralysis to be done.
These other dreams though, where I am an this place of really ugly energy, they reek of unfinished business. And what does one do when the business cannot be finished. What does one do when (I am metaphoring this som bitch up) the bridge is torn down, the wood has floated down river and all that is left are some rusted old pipes that once served as make shift hand rails? What does one do when a mountain has, in fact, been made of a mole hill? Too big to get over and too big to smooth out.
I understand why doctors say "he's lucky, it was a clean break." It is so easy to heal from something that gave way smoothly. My own literal break was not clean and there is a tiny chip of bone loose in my ankle. It used to bother me and then I think it burrowed itself into the fat of my calf and is now completely forgotten. And my figurative break is not clean either. Ten years ago, it would have been before social media wormed its way into my life and I probably read more into comments (or the lack of them) then I do of actually reading comments.
So I ask you, self help gurus, life coaches, people that have removed the toxic or stopped being the toxic, how is it done. How do get my clean break? How do I stop caring and hurting and trying?
Aside from these dreams, I am constantly having dreams about people that I used to know. I wake up from these sad or frustrated or, usually, pissed. So my question to a dream decipherer is this, how do I shut off my mind when I shut off the lights?
I don't buy the stressful life theory aside from the two aforementioned episodes. My life is pretty easy, pretty stress free. Roof over my head, food on my table, gas in my car. Anything else is stress I am making up. So with that in mind, I would expect the sleep paralysis to be done.
These other dreams though, where I am an this place of really ugly energy, they reek of unfinished business. And what does one do when the business cannot be finished. What does one do when (I am metaphoring this som bitch up) the bridge is torn down, the wood has floated down river and all that is left are some rusted old pipes that once served as make shift hand rails? What does one do when a mountain has, in fact, been made of a mole hill? Too big to get over and too big to smooth out.
I understand why doctors say "he's lucky, it was a clean break." It is so easy to heal from something that gave way smoothly. My own literal break was not clean and there is a tiny chip of bone loose in my ankle. It used to bother me and then I think it burrowed itself into the fat of my calf and is now completely forgotten. And my figurative break is not clean either. Ten years ago, it would have been before social media wormed its way into my life and I probably read more into comments (or the lack of them) then I do of actually reading comments.
So I ask you, self help gurus, life coaches, people that have removed the toxic or stopped being the toxic, how is it done. How do get my clean break? How do I stop caring and hurting and trying?
Monday, January 28, 2019
Martyrdom is Dumb
Let me clarify martyrdom, I am not referring to those that have given their lives for their religious beliefs. That is not something I can remotely understand, but it is not dumb. I have very wavering religious beliefs so it would be hard for me to die for them as they change every other day. The martyrdom I am referring to is the stupid notion that one must take it all on themselves. (Insert image of tired woman with back of hand on forehead). How the notion of someone suffering because they are doing it all became martyrdom is beyond me, because the two actions are certainly not interchangeable.
A week and a half ago, Danny had back surgery. Two surgeries actually, on Thursday and Friday. Also on Friday, the biggest work project I annually have also started. Add to that, bad weather, daughters driving hundreds of miles and an out of whack shoulder. I was determined to handle all of it. I was going to be at the hospital in the mornings for surgery, go to work, keep up on texts as the drivers stopped for gas, go back to the hospital, come home, push some snow (can't get the snowblower started with my bad shoulder) sleep and do it again. I thought this was what I was supposed to do. The first snowstorm I came home to a snow blown front walk and started to cry in the driveway. The following day I came home from the hospital to find the entire drive shoveled by Jacob and the waterworks began again. Obviously, I needed help but oddly, wasn't asking. I worked the weekend, visited Danny and came home bone tired. The work project is pretty physical, a lot of bending, lifting and reading very small print. I have done this project on my own a dozen times over the last 10 years, I am efficient and usually have no problem getting it done in a week, but I had never had a week like this one.
Danny came home Monday and I knew immediately that I needed to stay home with him on Tuesday. We were not prepared for the recovery of this surgery. The doctors certainly gave us best case scenario and though Danny was not completely incapacitated, he was not without the need of a lot of assistance. The hospital had his medications spread out over a two to four hour span. We were up a lot in the night.
Tuesday night I had my first ever experience with sleep paralysis. My brothers in law and son had all experienced it, so I knew what it was, but had no idea what it would feel like. The details of my dream didn't relate to what was going on in my life, but I can only guess that the stress I had put myself under was what had set this experience in motion. My muffled calls for help in my sleep were alarming enough to force Danny to roll over in bed to wake me. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. I was unable to move but felt like I needed to, I yelled for help but the words would not be heard. I knew there was danger coming through the door in my dream though I never saw what it was. Exhausted, I made the decision to stay home on Wednesday. It snowed again on Wednesday. Two of Danny's friends came over after work and cleared the driveway for us. At work, other employees took care of that day's duties and I finally made peace with not doing it all. And, you know what, I am no less of a human for it.
There is no gold star next to my name if I get the project done all by myself. In fact, the project is designed to be done by teams so it is expected that several people complete the project. At 49, I don't physically come back from a day like I used to. I seem to require my full eight hours of sleep and for these few days, wasn't getting close to that. I'm no martyr. Nor did I set out to be one. I just didn't think that week would be that hard. We asked the questions at the appointment before surgery so we could be prepared, they just didn't give us much for answers. And I thought the work project would be manageable, but in years past, I was always able to get a head start on it, this year, I wasn't. Lesson learned. Help is not a four letter word. Well, it is, but it isn't a bad word. This was a lesson taught to me years ago by Father Hurley. I should have remembered. People want to help, they just need to know how. Most people aren't mind readers, they don't know how one is struggling. And even when a person is aware of what is going on, they cannot possibly know what kind of support is already in place. Additionally, everyone of the people that helped me out this week and every other time, have their own snow to shovel so to speak.
I've know there are a lot of people that have to do it all themselves. They have no support system for whatever reason and I am not making light of your situation. If it's you, send me a message, I can help.
I shared my epiphany with a friend of mine and she said that she was glad for it. She didn't know how I was going to cope as the week was giving me pressure on the physical, mental and emotional front. She was proud of me, she said. And mine was only a week so I thought I could do it. Not out of pride, just didn't expect all the feels to beat me down.
Caregivers so often forget to care for themselves. I see it so often at Walgreens when the harried person comes in for a prescription and walker and chocolates. They are often overwhelmed with it all in the beginning and slowly become immune to their own needs. Or they become so bitter because they aren't given the help they expect but don't ask for. In my own week, the girls were on vacation and Jacob had recently moved out. I didn't want to burden Jacob with coming over to shovel. He did it gladly (well, you know).
A week and a half ago, Danny had back surgery. Two surgeries actually, on Thursday and Friday. Also on Friday, the biggest work project I annually have also started. Add to that, bad weather, daughters driving hundreds of miles and an out of whack shoulder. I was determined to handle all of it. I was going to be at the hospital in the mornings for surgery, go to work, keep up on texts as the drivers stopped for gas, go back to the hospital, come home, push some snow (can't get the snowblower started with my bad shoulder) sleep and do it again. I thought this was what I was supposed to do. The first snowstorm I came home to a snow blown front walk and started to cry in the driveway. The following day I came home from the hospital to find the entire drive shoveled by Jacob and the waterworks began again. Obviously, I needed help but oddly, wasn't asking. I worked the weekend, visited Danny and came home bone tired. The work project is pretty physical, a lot of bending, lifting and reading very small print. I have done this project on my own a dozen times over the last 10 years, I am efficient and usually have no problem getting it done in a week, but I had never had a week like this one.
Danny came home Monday and I knew immediately that I needed to stay home with him on Tuesday. We were not prepared for the recovery of this surgery. The doctors certainly gave us best case scenario and though Danny was not completely incapacitated, he was not without the need of a lot of assistance. The hospital had his medications spread out over a two to four hour span. We were up a lot in the night.
Tuesday night I had my first ever experience with sleep paralysis. My brothers in law and son had all experienced it, so I knew what it was, but had no idea what it would feel like. The details of my dream didn't relate to what was going on in my life, but I can only guess that the stress I had put myself under was what had set this experience in motion. My muffled calls for help in my sleep were alarming enough to force Danny to roll over in bed to wake me. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. I was unable to move but felt like I needed to, I yelled for help but the words would not be heard. I knew there was danger coming through the door in my dream though I never saw what it was. Exhausted, I made the decision to stay home on Wednesday. It snowed again on Wednesday. Two of Danny's friends came over after work and cleared the driveway for us. At work, other employees took care of that day's duties and I finally made peace with not doing it all. And, you know what, I am no less of a human for it.
There is no gold star next to my name if I get the project done all by myself. In fact, the project is designed to be done by teams so it is expected that several people complete the project. At 49, I don't physically come back from a day like I used to. I seem to require my full eight hours of sleep and for these few days, wasn't getting close to that. I'm no martyr. Nor did I set out to be one. I just didn't think that week would be that hard. We asked the questions at the appointment before surgery so we could be prepared, they just didn't give us much for answers. And I thought the work project would be manageable, but in years past, I was always able to get a head start on it, this year, I wasn't. Lesson learned. Help is not a four letter word. Well, it is, but it isn't a bad word. This was a lesson taught to me years ago by Father Hurley. I should have remembered. People want to help, they just need to know how. Most people aren't mind readers, they don't know how one is struggling. And even when a person is aware of what is going on, they cannot possibly know what kind of support is already in place. Additionally, everyone of the people that helped me out this week and every other time, have their own snow to shovel so to speak.
I've know there are a lot of people that have to do it all themselves. They have no support system for whatever reason and I am not making light of your situation. If it's you, send me a message, I can help.
I shared my epiphany with a friend of mine and she said that she was glad for it. She didn't know how I was going to cope as the week was giving me pressure on the physical, mental and emotional front. She was proud of me, she said. And mine was only a week so I thought I could do it. Not out of pride, just didn't expect all the feels to beat me down.
Caregivers so often forget to care for themselves. I see it so often at Walgreens when the harried person comes in for a prescription and walker and chocolates. They are often overwhelmed with it all in the beginning and slowly become immune to their own needs. Or they become so bitter because they aren't given the help they expect but don't ask for. In my own week, the girls were on vacation and Jacob had recently moved out. I didn't want to burden Jacob with coming over to shovel. He did it gladly (well, you know).
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