many (and i do mean many) time in my life, i've been complimented on being flexible and conscilliatory. and taht's nice. but on occassion (although few) i've been accused of being set in my ways and stubborn.
well, it's all relative, i guess. or in the eye of the beholder. or it's that for the most part i'm flexible but on certain ocassions, i'm stubborn and i hold my ground. but wow, isn't it my right as a human being to be set on some things? don't i get that luxury or privilege or am i just supposed to be a wall daisy?
so what am i rigid about?
let's see-
that we should have equity for all people, regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation, religion etc
that people should really listen to each other and try to work things out rather than dumping and running.
that companies should not be allowed to dump communities. if a community has allowed you a start in business, you should not run off somewhere else and dump that community.
that healthcare should be universal and affordable.
that jobs should pay living wages.
that education should be based on real research and not on market-driven whims and politics.
that no religion is the RIGHT religion.
that we should not use violence against each other.
that guns are absolutely unneccessary for people to own.
that it's in our interests to treat animals kindly.
that there should be much more research work towards substance addiction issues.
that mental health issues are community issues.
that free market capitalism might just be the root of all evil
that abusive people should be locked up yet supervised and not left to rot.
that birth control should be free and available at every corner.
that all people of consenting age should be allowed to marry. but that divorce should be easier.
that children should be loved liberally but raised not to expect the world laid at their feet or that the world is their oyster.
so this list is getting long. perhaps i am inflexible.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Thursday, August 28, 2014
joke dejour
Ham and Eggs. A day's work for a chicken. A lifetime committment for a pig.
yeah, so i'm not vegan or a vegatarian.
i just thought that joke was funny.
you see, i decided the world has become entirely too serious. so the change is going to start with me. and this joke. please enjoy it.
yeah, so i'm not vegan or a vegatarian.
i just thought that joke was funny.
you see, i decided the world has become entirely too serious. so the change is going to start with me. and this joke. please enjoy it.
Monday, August 18, 2014
the rug out from under
i've heard grief described many ways. i've also described grief in many ways of my own. but perhaps one of the most fitting is that of having the rug pulled out from under you.
in that, a loss can make you feel as if this has happened. or maybe even more descriptive is that of having the entire floor disappear. and you're trying desperately to find something to stand on. you're flailing and grasping, trying to make yourself cling on to the walls around you.
this vividly came home to me today as i returned from out of town where i attended a funeral. of someone who i truly cared about. and i'd more or less forgotten that i'd scheduled my carpets to be cleaned today. i mean, i hadn't totally forgotten. sunday morning before i left, i'd moved around furniture and stacked things up so as to make sure the most trafficked parts of the rugs were available. i'd had that much foresight. but then i kinda sorta forgot about it all as i got involved in the funeral and grief events.
i drove home here. and all i kept thinking on the way was how i just wanted to get home. get my bearings. steady myself before i went into work tonight. seeing the body, talking to the parents and talking to old friends and acquaintences was much more trying that i'd even antipated. the drive home was long. and i just wanted to come in and sit down.
but i couldn't. i turned the key to my apartment and i could smell the cleaner. and opening the door, i remembered, "oh yeah." and the rugs were still damp. furniture still stacked in the corners of the room. the kitchen floor and my bed piled high with stuff that is usually in familiar, calming, well-thought out places.
and so i'm disturbed. literally LITERALLY, the rug has been pulled out from under me. i want to put my suitcase away. i have to go to the bathroom. i remove my shoes so as to track the least amount of dirt in on the freshly cleaned carpet. i walk in straddled fashion down the hallway, so as not to hit the high traffic areas. i brace myself on walls. tipping unsteadily on my tiptoes. i can't get footing. nothing feels solid. nothing feels steady. nothing feels comforting.
so i take care of my business and i leave. i go out to get gas. i go out for a late lunch. i go to the library to pick up a book i have on hold. and i feel like a refugee.
so i come on home again. and i perform the same acrobatics to pick up my ipad and toddle out to the unaffected patio. where i sit writing this quickly before i head downtown to the center. where they'll ask me, "xxxxx, why are you so dressed up?" and i'll have to answer. and they'll express their sympathy.
and i'll lean on them. those who have no idea of my past life where i had the rug pulled out from under me too many times. i'll lean on them, simply, because they are there to lean on. and i'll go on with my work. probably still feeling a bit unmoored. but gradually, i'll be ok. and maybe when i get home, i can shove things back into their proper places.
the father told me today of the first time they met me. they (he and his wife) came in with stacks of information for their first IEP meeting. he said, he wondered how it would go, knowing his wife was on edge in this new territory of school. wondering how we'd take this big stack of demands, concerns, anxieties, questions that they had in their hearts and in their hands. feeling as if they were strangers in a strange land. that might be hostile. and he said, they produced their large stack of notes and asked, "how do we start?" and that i replied, "well, how about we start with this (indicating their notes of concern) and work from there?" he said, "no one, could have said anything better."
he said, he'd never forgotten it. how i made them feel anchored. and not alone.
and i guess i compare it a bit with having the rug pulled out from under you, like this. and i advise anyone who is trying to help, comfort, understand someone who is grieving- who may be anxious, not happy, worried, agitated, maybe even grouchy or angry etc. that all they really need from you is some certainty. some bearing. a solid floor beneath them. even if they can't express it to you, that's what they need. be the solid floor beneath them and help them stand. they are not grasping at you to be aggravating. they are not trying to demand more of you than you can give. they simply want some stability. some security. some reassurance. and that is all.
in that, a loss can make you feel as if this has happened. or maybe even more descriptive is that of having the entire floor disappear. and you're trying desperately to find something to stand on. you're flailing and grasping, trying to make yourself cling on to the walls around you.
this vividly came home to me today as i returned from out of town where i attended a funeral. of someone who i truly cared about. and i'd more or less forgotten that i'd scheduled my carpets to be cleaned today. i mean, i hadn't totally forgotten. sunday morning before i left, i'd moved around furniture and stacked things up so as to make sure the most trafficked parts of the rugs were available. i'd had that much foresight. but then i kinda sorta forgot about it all as i got involved in the funeral and grief events.
i drove home here. and all i kept thinking on the way was how i just wanted to get home. get my bearings. steady myself before i went into work tonight. seeing the body, talking to the parents and talking to old friends and acquaintences was much more trying that i'd even antipated. the drive home was long. and i just wanted to come in and sit down.
but i couldn't. i turned the key to my apartment and i could smell the cleaner. and opening the door, i remembered, "oh yeah." and the rugs were still damp. furniture still stacked in the corners of the room. the kitchen floor and my bed piled high with stuff that is usually in familiar, calming, well-thought out places.
and so i'm disturbed. literally LITERALLY, the rug has been pulled out from under me. i want to put my suitcase away. i have to go to the bathroom. i remove my shoes so as to track the least amount of dirt in on the freshly cleaned carpet. i walk in straddled fashion down the hallway, so as not to hit the high traffic areas. i brace myself on walls. tipping unsteadily on my tiptoes. i can't get footing. nothing feels solid. nothing feels steady. nothing feels comforting.
so i take care of my business and i leave. i go out to get gas. i go out for a late lunch. i go to the library to pick up a book i have on hold. and i feel like a refugee.
so i come on home again. and i perform the same acrobatics to pick up my ipad and toddle out to the unaffected patio. where i sit writing this quickly before i head downtown to the center. where they'll ask me, "xxxxx, why are you so dressed up?" and i'll have to answer. and they'll express their sympathy.
and i'll lean on them. those who have no idea of my past life where i had the rug pulled out from under me too many times. i'll lean on them, simply, because they are there to lean on. and i'll go on with my work. probably still feeling a bit unmoored. but gradually, i'll be ok. and maybe when i get home, i can shove things back into their proper places.
the father told me today of the first time they met me. they (he and his wife) came in with stacks of information for their first IEP meeting. he said, he wondered how it would go, knowing his wife was on edge in this new territory of school. wondering how we'd take this big stack of demands, concerns, anxieties, questions that they had in their hearts and in their hands. feeling as if they were strangers in a strange land. that might be hostile. and he said, they produced their large stack of notes and asked, "how do we start?" and that i replied, "well, how about we start with this (indicating their notes of concern) and work from there?" he said, "no one, could have said anything better."
he said, he'd never forgotten it. how i made them feel anchored. and not alone.
and i guess i compare it a bit with having the rug pulled out from under you, like this. and i advise anyone who is trying to help, comfort, understand someone who is grieving- who may be anxious, not happy, worried, agitated, maybe even grouchy or angry etc. that all they really need from you is some certainty. some bearing. a solid floor beneath them. even if they can't express it to you, that's what they need. be the solid floor beneath them and help them stand. they are not grasping at you to be aggravating. they are not trying to demand more of you than you can give. they simply want some stability. some security. some reassurance. and that is all.
Friday, August 15, 2014
wondering sadly
when someone i know dies- it steps up my desire to know exactly what happens to people when they die. and since a lot of the people i've known who have died have been children with severe physical disabilities, i've especially wanted to make sense of death. i just have a lot of trouble with children dying. it always feels like a slap in the face. at the very least. and well, i also had a lot of trouble with my x sister in law's death. because she left two small children. it broke my heart for them. but also, selfishly, i had no clue how much i'd miss her personally. she'd been such a support for me. that i didn't deserve.
oh but anyway. i think about what happens when you die a lot.
so my ex student died this morning. she was no longer a child. she was 29 years old. and although you're not supposed to have favorites, i did. and she was one of them. she was one of my favorites because often she was grumpy. i liked that about her. that she wasn't always pleased. not that she couldn't enjoy things and didn't. she did. she had things and people that made her happy. but she wasn't one to hide her displeasure if she was displeased. and well, i liked that honesty. and to me it showed a lot of awareness of the world around her, which a lot of people were not always convinced that she had. she was non-verbal. losing her speech to something called rett's syndrome. and it was frustrating because she also lost a lot of her motor skills, so finding a way to communicate with her was quite a trick. so people thought she'd lost her intellect as well. i stand not convinced of that at all.
because if you were quick, you could watch her eyes flash. and oh how they flashed. angry as all hell when she was angry. sparkling if she was happy. and if you were patient and you waited long enough, (and i'm talking like 5 full minutes or so) sometimes she could make a part of her body move to indicate something. rarely did anyone give her the time. except her family. they were awesome. and except some few educators she knew. but most wrote her off as being cognitively impaired.
anyway, of course it's very tempting to believe as her parents devoutly do, that she is now in heaven and that she is free from the limits of her body. me, i don't have that faith. it would be nice to see such a cool soul go to heaven, i think. but i don't know that i believe it.
on the other hand, often i'm quite afraid that people who die have supernatural powers of knowing how you really feel or how you mess up. i mean, i'm not very often a good person. it's not that i don't try sometimes, but even when i do try, i'm often intensely anxious and uncomfortable. a for instance, i'll work all day and smile and i'm patient with people. but inside, i'm thinking, "seriously, are you that stupid?" and i can't wait to get home, slack off and have a glass of wine. to this day, i'd rather drink a glass of wine and smoke a cigarette more than anything in this world. world peace or a cigarette and a glass of wine? i'm pretty sure i'd pick the latter. that's the kind of sick person i am. i'm critical, i'm judgmental, i'm lazy, i get frustrated. i'm sometimes less than honest. and i can hide all that from the living. but it creeps me out that possibly, i can't hide all that from the dead.
i can't hide that i'm selfish. that i'm not perfect. that i sometimes don't have a good heart. that i literally hate a few people in this world and if it were up to me, they'd die in a fiery crash and burn in a hell.
so i mentioned that this girl's parents were awesome. and they were. and kind. and smart as hell and they kept abreast of everything and anything that could help their daughter. possibly the best parents of any child i ever had. they also were very trying. i can remember often working all day coming home, dealing with home stuff all evening, finally getting around to preparing for the next day, when i'd get a phone call from the mother, telling me how upset they were about some teacher's actions or that something hadn't been done. and she'd want me to fix whatever was wrong. and i was exhausted. and i'd invariably say, "certainly, i'll take care of it." with lots of time either no idea of how to fix it or sick to my stomach about having to go confront the person involved the next day on top of the billion other things i had to do. and i'll admit it, i was often very angry inside at this mother. not that i should have been, but sometimes it was just all too much stuff being dumped on my plate.
and now, if the dead are omniscient, this x student of mine is going to know. how i was angry a lot of the time. and wow, i don't want her to know that. i don't want her to know that i'm not (and wasn't) all that.
so what do you think? do you think there is an afterlife? do you think the dead are omniscient? do you think that that there is nothing? do you wish there was nothing? do you wish there was something but that it's not like you're going to have to deal with all the people you knew in this life, but that you get a do-over of some kind?
oh anyway. what i really mean to say is that i'm rather sad tonight. this girl really was one of my very favorites. i don't really have anyone's shoulder to cry on. and so i'm selfishly sad for myself, when i should be thinking about her parents and siblings who are likely soul-sick right now. i'll try to pull it together before the viewing on sunday. and hide all my selfishness from all the living who don't read this blog.
oh but anyway. i think about what happens when you die a lot.
so my ex student died this morning. she was no longer a child. she was 29 years old. and although you're not supposed to have favorites, i did. and she was one of them. she was one of my favorites because often she was grumpy. i liked that about her. that she wasn't always pleased. not that she couldn't enjoy things and didn't. she did. she had things and people that made her happy. but she wasn't one to hide her displeasure if she was displeased. and well, i liked that honesty. and to me it showed a lot of awareness of the world around her, which a lot of people were not always convinced that she had. she was non-verbal. losing her speech to something called rett's syndrome. and it was frustrating because she also lost a lot of her motor skills, so finding a way to communicate with her was quite a trick. so people thought she'd lost her intellect as well. i stand not convinced of that at all.
because if you were quick, you could watch her eyes flash. and oh how they flashed. angry as all hell when she was angry. sparkling if she was happy. and if you were patient and you waited long enough, (and i'm talking like 5 full minutes or so) sometimes she could make a part of her body move to indicate something. rarely did anyone give her the time. except her family. they were awesome. and except some few educators she knew. but most wrote her off as being cognitively impaired.
anyway, of course it's very tempting to believe as her parents devoutly do, that she is now in heaven and that she is free from the limits of her body. me, i don't have that faith. it would be nice to see such a cool soul go to heaven, i think. but i don't know that i believe it.
on the other hand, often i'm quite afraid that people who die have supernatural powers of knowing how you really feel or how you mess up. i mean, i'm not very often a good person. it's not that i don't try sometimes, but even when i do try, i'm often intensely anxious and uncomfortable. a for instance, i'll work all day and smile and i'm patient with people. but inside, i'm thinking, "seriously, are you that stupid?" and i can't wait to get home, slack off and have a glass of wine. to this day, i'd rather drink a glass of wine and smoke a cigarette more than anything in this world. world peace or a cigarette and a glass of wine? i'm pretty sure i'd pick the latter. that's the kind of sick person i am. i'm critical, i'm judgmental, i'm lazy, i get frustrated. i'm sometimes less than honest. and i can hide all that from the living. but it creeps me out that possibly, i can't hide all that from the dead.
i can't hide that i'm selfish. that i'm not perfect. that i sometimes don't have a good heart. that i literally hate a few people in this world and if it were up to me, they'd die in a fiery crash and burn in a hell.
so i mentioned that this girl's parents were awesome. and they were. and kind. and smart as hell and they kept abreast of everything and anything that could help their daughter. possibly the best parents of any child i ever had. they also were very trying. i can remember often working all day coming home, dealing with home stuff all evening, finally getting around to preparing for the next day, when i'd get a phone call from the mother, telling me how upset they were about some teacher's actions or that something hadn't been done. and she'd want me to fix whatever was wrong. and i was exhausted. and i'd invariably say, "certainly, i'll take care of it." with lots of time either no idea of how to fix it or sick to my stomach about having to go confront the person involved the next day on top of the billion other things i had to do. and i'll admit it, i was often very angry inside at this mother. not that i should have been, but sometimes it was just all too much stuff being dumped on my plate.
and now, if the dead are omniscient, this x student of mine is going to know. how i was angry a lot of the time. and wow, i don't want her to know that. i don't want her to know that i'm not (and wasn't) all that.
so what do you think? do you think there is an afterlife? do you think the dead are omniscient? do you think that that there is nothing? do you wish there was nothing? do you wish there was something but that it's not like you're going to have to deal with all the people you knew in this life, but that you get a do-over of some kind?
oh anyway. what i really mean to say is that i'm rather sad tonight. this girl really was one of my very favorites. i don't really have anyone's shoulder to cry on. and so i'm selfishly sad for myself, when i should be thinking about her parents and siblings who are likely soul-sick right now. i'll try to pull it together before the viewing on sunday. and hide all my selfishness from all the living who don't read this blog.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
don't stand downwind
my favorite line of the day was, "You have deliberately and ambitiously made this country a worse place."
LOVED THIS. LOVED THIS. LOVED THIS!!!!!!!
BAM! The quote came from a column about the infamous school deformer, Michelle Rhee, leaving the education world (alone) for the miracle gro company. and i share the writer's sentiments of "don't let the xxxxing door hit you.."
i sincerely despise this woman. this charlatan. this fake. this phony. and please excuse me while i say, "this bitch."
and i'm sure she'll be very very happy where she's going because there they say things like, "“Michelle is an innovator, a change agent and has clearly helped shape the national dialogue in her field,” said Jim Hagedorn, chairman and chief executive officer. “We look forward to her bringing a unique perspective to our Board that will help shape our thinking and make Scotts a stronger and smarter company as we look to the future.”
an innovator. a change agent. shape the dialogue. unique perspective. shape our thinking. stronger and smarter. as we look to the future.
seriously, first of all, who writes this kinda crap? do they send all ceo's to "how to write meaningless tripe" school? and second. oh my gosh. how the hell does this piece of shit woman (and other's like her) keep getting jobs?
all i can tell you is that i will never buy another miracle gro product as long as i live now. and if you didn't before, you definitely don't want to stand downwind of this company now.
LOVED THIS. LOVED THIS. LOVED THIS!!!!!!!
BAM! The quote came from a column about the infamous school deformer, Michelle Rhee, leaving the education world (alone) for the miracle gro company. and i share the writer's sentiments of "don't let the xxxxing door hit you.."
i sincerely despise this woman. this charlatan. this fake. this phony. and please excuse me while i say, "this bitch."
and i'm sure she'll be very very happy where she's going because there they say things like, "“Michelle is an innovator, a change agent and has clearly helped shape the national dialogue in her field,” said Jim Hagedorn, chairman and chief executive officer. “We look forward to her bringing a unique perspective to our Board that will help shape our thinking and make Scotts a stronger and smarter company as we look to the future.”
an innovator. a change agent. shape the dialogue. unique perspective. shape our thinking. stronger and smarter. as we look to the future.
seriously, first of all, who writes this kinda crap? do they send all ceo's to "how to write meaningless tripe" school? and second. oh my gosh. how the hell does this piece of shit woman (and other's like her) keep getting jobs?
all i can tell you is that i will never buy another miracle gro product as long as i live now. and if you didn't before, you definitely don't want to stand downwind of this company now.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
just like everyone else.
so just like everyone else in the world, today i'm going to talk about the suicide of robin williams.
but just like no one else in the world, i'm going to start by telling you that i really didn't care for his comedy very much. too manic. too panicked. too something.
i liked him in "good will hunting." i will say that. but other than that, in his comedy, i just didn't care for him. that's ok though. not everyone has to like everything that everyone else does.
i will say that i'm terribly sad for his family. suicide leaves a big hole for a family. and for the friends. of the person who takes his/her own life. i know that a person contemplating suicide can talk him or herself right out of that reality, because the pain is so unrelentingly intense. but the truth really is that a suicide leaves a big wrenching permanent hole in the lives of people who care about you.
now, unlike robin williams, i do believe there are the eleanor rigbys of this world. people who nobody cares about at all. please don't lie and say, "there's no such person." because there are, and i've met them. please don't say that "but jesus loves them" stuff either. jesus is just not a real concrete character. and a person contemplating needs a real concrete character to help them through. anyway, i do believe there are people in the world that do not have anybody. at all. and that's very sad. i'd like to utter the platitude of "be kind to everyone, you don't know what they are going through." but even that really isn't enough. yes, sometimes a kind word or a smile to a stranger at the right moment can be enough to talk a person off their ledge. but also, sometimes, that's really not enough. they need someone to really care that they are there in the next moment. really care, as in willing to sit with them through that next moment and the next one and the next one. and the next one. and then doesn't just ditch them when the danger seems to have passed.
and as i said, i do believe there literally are people who don't have that person. any person in their life like that. and that's sad. i wish i could say i knew what to do about that, but honestly, i don't.
robin williams was not one of those people though. he had people. he had his family. he had friends. he had legions of fans. but somehow no one was there at that exact moment. and even if they were around, they didn't realize somehow, the true depth of his struggles. obviously he was capable of some pretty great disguises. perhaps part of his pain was that no one could see through those disguises. everyone believed them. even the people he hoped could see through them.
so how do you save a robin williams? perhaps the truth of it is that you can't. i've always believed that the only way to stop a suicide is understand that the pain they are feeling about something is bigger than any kind of pain you have ever felt in your life. and that it feels unrelenting and without an end. and that the only thing you can possibly say if you happen to be with them in that moment and you do happen to realize how much pain they are in is that you will not leave them. that you won't ever desert them. ever.
and they won't believe you but the proof is in you staying. in them knowing that you are there always. always. always.
don't say, "things will get better." because you don't know that, and that will ring as a bigger lie than "the check is in the mail" to them. don't say, "i've hurt too." because chances are you have never hurt like they are hurting and they know it. don't say, "you're selfish." or "you have so much to live for." they won't believe you.
all they know is that they are in pain. horrible pain. like if their hand were in a pot of boiling water. the only thing they know they want is their hand out of the pot. they can't see, feel, or think beyond that.
so you have to see, feel, think- for them. you have to tell them you are there. that you will be there. that you will always be there. that's the only thing that might register.
the thing is that most everyone thinks that they'll never contemplate suicide. most everyone thinks only crazies or the weak follow through and the ones who tell you they think about it are just fakers wanting attention. no one ever thinks they are just like everyone else. in that when the pain is too great, you'll do anything to make it stop.
i feel very blessed. that there was a person who understood all this at a time in my life when the pain was too great. i feel very blessed that since that time, there have been people in my life that make me know every single day of my life that i am needed and wanted. and that they'd never leave me.
because i know that i'm just like everyone else, in that there will be things that hurt me again. that there might be times again when i can't see past the pain again. but i also know now that i will never be left alone with that pain. that people will recognize it even if i wear a disguise.
but just like no one else in the world, i'm going to start by telling you that i really didn't care for his comedy very much. too manic. too panicked. too something.
i liked him in "good will hunting." i will say that. but other than that, in his comedy, i just didn't care for him. that's ok though. not everyone has to like everything that everyone else does.
i will say that i'm terribly sad for his family. suicide leaves a big hole for a family. and for the friends. of the person who takes his/her own life. i know that a person contemplating suicide can talk him or herself right out of that reality, because the pain is so unrelentingly intense. but the truth really is that a suicide leaves a big wrenching permanent hole in the lives of people who care about you.
now, unlike robin williams, i do believe there are the eleanor rigbys of this world. people who nobody cares about at all. please don't lie and say, "there's no such person." because there are, and i've met them. please don't say that "but jesus loves them" stuff either. jesus is just not a real concrete character. and a person contemplating needs a real concrete character to help them through. anyway, i do believe there are people in the world that do not have anybody. at all. and that's very sad. i'd like to utter the platitude of "be kind to everyone, you don't know what they are going through." but even that really isn't enough. yes, sometimes a kind word or a smile to a stranger at the right moment can be enough to talk a person off their ledge. but also, sometimes, that's really not enough. they need someone to really care that they are there in the next moment. really care, as in willing to sit with them through that next moment and the next one and the next one. and the next one. and then doesn't just ditch them when the danger seems to have passed.
and as i said, i do believe there literally are people who don't have that person. any person in their life like that. and that's sad. i wish i could say i knew what to do about that, but honestly, i don't.
robin williams was not one of those people though. he had people. he had his family. he had friends. he had legions of fans. but somehow no one was there at that exact moment. and even if they were around, they didn't realize somehow, the true depth of his struggles. obviously he was capable of some pretty great disguises. perhaps part of his pain was that no one could see through those disguises. everyone believed them. even the people he hoped could see through them.
so how do you save a robin williams? perhaps the truth of it is that you can't. i've always believed that the only way to stop a suicide is understand that the pain they are feeling about something is bigger than any kind of pain you have ever felt in your life. and that it feels unrelenting and without an end. and that the only thing you can possibly say if you happen to be with them in that moment and you do happen to realize how much pain they are in is that you will not leave them. that you won't ever desert them. ever.
and they won't believe you but the proof is in you staying. in them knowing that you are there always. always. always.
don't say, "things will get better." because you don't know that, and that will ring as a bigger lie than "the check is in the mail" to them. don't say, "i've hurt too." because chances are you have never hurt like they are hurting and they know it. don't say, "you're selfish." or "you have so much to live for." they won't believe you.
all they know is that they are in pain. horrible pain. like if their hand were in a pot of boiling water. the only thing they know they want is their hand out of the pot. they can't see, feel, or think beyond that.
so you have to see, feel, think- for them. you have to tell them you are there. that you will be there. that you will always be there. that's the only thing that might register.
the thing is that most everyone thinks that they'll never contemplate suicide. most everyone thinks only crazies or the weak follow through and the ones who tell you they think about it are just fakers wanting attention. no one ever thinks they are just like everyone else. in that when the pain is too great, you'll do anything to make it stop.
i feel very blessed. that there was a person who understood all this at a time in my life when the pain was too great. i feel very blessed that since that time, there have been people in my life that make me know every single day of my life that i am needed and wanted. and that they'd never leave me.
because i know that i'm just like everyone else, in that there will be things that hurt me again. that there might be times again when i can't see past the pain again. but i also know now that i will never be left alone with that pain. that people will recognize it even if i wear a disguise.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Sunday, August 3, 2014
my advice to the young and old, and especially myself
actually, this would have been my dad's advice. but always late to the party, i'm just now fully realizing it.
the advice? lighten up. enjoy what there is to enjoy. quit bitching and worrying about the things that are wrong. and be joyous about the things that are right.
and that doesn't mean you don't need to fix things that are broken. or that you should ignore and walk away from people who need you. or that you can't work on making things better. or that you can't be sad. or even at times, impatient and irritable. or angry. this is not hakuna matata.
but it does mean that you can focus your inner-most thoughts on the good things, the better part of the time.
if you have a husband who loves you, be glad of it. don't constantly obsess on that he's not perfect in so many ways. he tries.
if you have a family who stands by you, be grateful for that. don't constantly bemoan that they have shortcomings and have made mistakes. or that they have the most annoying idiosyncrasies and bad habits.
if you have a world around you that offers you laughter and cheeseburgers and pie for dessert, don't zero-in on your lack of a five course meal.
if you have rain, be glad that you have an umbrella.
if you drop the ball, pick it up, throw it back, and try to catch the next one.
if you have snow, be glad that you have a snow shovel and an unbroken back.
if someone shows you a bug or a slimy snake, don't run away and scream, overcome your fear and touch it. (except for turtles, if someone shows you a turtle, run. like the wind.)
if you have a house to live in and food to eat, a job and transportation to get you where you're going, don't look down on people who don't. even if they are smoking a cigarette.
if you have people who have hurt you to the core, don't retaliate or dwell on it, maybe someday, they'll say they are sorry. or maybe not. but if they never do, realize that's got nothing to do with you and the kind of person you are. and it has everything to do with the kind of person they are. but even so, just be glad that you are not them and don't hate them for it. hate changes nothing for the better.
if someone throws out an insult to you, smile and take it. know that you are not what they say.
but most of all, if the sun is shining and you have a glass of punch in your hand, drink it up.
the advice? lighten up. enjoy what there is to enjoy. quit bitching and worrying about the things that are wrong. and be joyous about the things that are right.
and that doesn't mean you don't need to fix things that are broken. or that you should ignore and walk away from people who need you. or that you can't work on making things better. or that you can't be sad. or even at times, impatient and irritable. or angry. this is not hakuna matata.
but it does mean that you can focus your inner-most thoughts on the good things, the better part of the time.
if you have a husband who loves you, be glad of it. don't constantly obsess on that he's not perfect in so many ways. he tries.
if you have a family who stands by you, be grateful for that. don't constantly bemoan that they have shortcomings and have made mistakes. or that they have the most annoying idiosyncrasies and bad habits.
if you have a world around you that offers you laughter and cheeseburgers and pie for dessert, don't zero-in on your lack of a five course meal.
if you have rain, be glad that you have an umbrella.
if you drop the ball, pick it up, throw it back, and try to catch the next one.
if you have snow, be glad that you have a snow shovel and an unbroken back.
if someone shows you a bug or a slimy snake, don't run away and scream, overcome your fear and touch it. (except for turtles, if someone shows you a turtle, run. like the wind.)
if you have a house to live in and food to eat, a job and transportation to get you where you're going, don't look down on people who don't. even if they are smoking a cigarette.
if you have people who have hurt you to the core, don't retaliate or dwell on it, maybe someday, they'll say they are sorry. or maybe not. but if they never do, realize that's got nothing to do with you and the kind of person you are. and it has everything to do with the kind of person they are. but even so, just be glad that you are not them and don't hate them for it. hate changes nothing for the better.
if someone throws out an insult to you, smile and take it. know that you are not what they say.
but most of all, if the sun is shining and you have a glass of punch in your hand, drink it up.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Drop another coin in the slot
...and i'll tell you more.
i can't help myself. i'm very drawn to silly things like tarot cards and fortune telling. intellectually, i know that all such spiritual things, really all spiritual things, are so much hokum. i do. i'm not an idiot, really. but just the same, i'm drawn to them.
i keep fortune cookie slips. visit me someday and i'll show you at least half a dozen that have never come true. i've gone to psychics, supposedly for fun, with girl friends, and i secretly wish that they were real. when i'm really bored late at night, i'll consult the online fortune tellers. (but only the free ones) hoping for some good news. some glimpse at the future that will make me happy rather than sad.
so, it's no wonder that when my son's family and i visited an arcade to play games with the grandson, while on vacation, i gravitated towards the fortune teller machine in the arcade (rather like the one in the movie, big) and i begged a quarter off my son to get my fortune. (i happened to have no quarters of my own at the moment.)
and these are "Grandmother's Prophesies"
LOVE
Oh Speed on, speed on my little dove
Carry a message to the one I love
Tho a cruel fate has us two parted
I know that the future has in store
Greater happiness for ever more.
When that long awaited letter finally comes, no words will be able to describe the joy that will be yours. Since you are so clever in so many ways, you have learned to make the best of things. Your life as a result is not spoiled by the curse of boredome. (that's how grandmother spelled it.) You are fond of gay music, and like to dance. You are an impulsive person, given to exclaim in ecstasy if things please you.
Drop another Coin in slot and I will tell you more.
Well, and I had no other coin to drop in the slot, having had to bum the first one. so who knows what malarkey old grandmother would tell me next. for a brief moment, i contemplated asking my son for another quarter, but embarrassment, plus the desire to watch the grandchild play his games, held me back. so i stuffed the card in my pocket and walked away from grandmother. laughing at myself for being so silly.
and then i forgot all about it. until tonight, i reach in the pocket of my jeans and there the stupid thing is. an i think, "if ONLY, i'd had another quarter to drop in the slot." (-:
but then i think that it's just as well, there is really no sense in believing in anything spiritual. all of it just elevates your hopes falsely. and you have to come crashing back down to earth again. and realize you live in a real and concrete world, that simply plods along with no rhyme or reason, good fortune and bad, intermingled for no real reasons whatsoever. there's no fate. there's no fairy tale happy ever after.
there's only just some old grandmother wanting you to drop another quarter in the slot.
i can't help myself. i'm very drawn to silly things like tarot cards and fortune telling. intellectually, i know that all such spiritual things, really all spiritual things, are so much hokum. i do. i'm not an idiot, really. but just the same, i'm drawn to them.
i keep fortune cookie slips. visit me someday and i'll show you at least half a dozen that have never come true. i've gone to psychics, supposedly for fun, with girl friends, and i secretly wish that they were real. when i'm really bored late at night, i'll consult the online fortune tellers. (but only the free ones) hoping for some good news. some glimpse at the future that will make me happy rather than sad.
so, it's no wonder that when my son's family and i visited an arcade to play games with the grandson, while on vacation, i gravitated towards the fortune teller machine in the arcade (rather like the one in the movie, big) and i begged a quarter off my son to get my fortune. (i happened to have no quarters of my own at the moment.)
and these are "Grandmother's Prophesies"
LOVE
Oh Speed on, speed on my little dove
Carry a message to the one I love
Tho a cruel fate has us two parted
I know that the future has in store
Greater happiness for ever more.
When that long awaited letter finally comes, no words will be able to describe the joy that will be yours. Since you are so clever in so many ways, you have learned to make the best of things. Your life as a result is not spoiled by the curse of boredome. (that's how grandmother spelled it.) You are fond of gay music, and like to dance. You are an impulsive person, given to exclaim in ecstasy if things please you.
Drop another Coin in slot and I will tell you more.
Well, and I had no other coin to drop in the slot, having had to bum the first one. so who knows what malarkey old grandmother would tell me next. for a brief moment, i contemplated asking my son for another quarter, but embarrassment, plus the desire to watch the grandchild play his games, held me back. so i stuffed the card in my pocket and walked away from grandmother. laughing at myself for being so silly.
and then i forgot all about it. until tonight, i reach in the pocket of my jeans and there the stupid thing is. an i think, "if ONLY, i'd had another quarter to drop in the slot." (-:
but then i think that it's just as well, there is really no sense in believing in anything spiritual. all of it just elevates your hopes falsely. and you have to come crashing back down to earth again. and realize you live in a real and concrete world, that simply plods along with no rhyme or reason, good fortune and bad, intermingled for no real reasons whatsoever. there's no fate. there's no fairy tale happy ever after.
there's only just some old grandmother wanting you to drop another quarter in the slot.
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