The Hardest Post Ever

Misconceptions

 

I am admitting to you something that is hard for me. So bear with me. Don't think any less of me. Don't think any more of me. This does not make me heroic. It does not make me a coward. It does not change who I am.

I heard a song today that summed up how powerful a mental illness can be. I'll admit that I have struggled with certain mental illnesses all my life. Believe it or not I am incredibly shy. I overcome this at work by being the extreme opposite. I create this person who is vivacious and chatty. I want to believe that I AM this person. But sometimes I realize I am not.

I don't like crowds or strangers. I don't like my personal space invaded. I don't like being touched. That is the hardest part because it is the thing that I want the most. I want to be touched and be loved. But my OCD kicks in and I can't have a repetitive motion on my skin.

My OCD causes me wasted time. I arrive an hour early for most appointments if I am driving myself. If I'm with another then I am a nervous wreck if we are 15 minutes early. If I'm late...I can't recover for the rest of the day. I expect all appointments to be exactly on time. Not early and definitely not late.

I have severe depression at times when left alone too long and this back injury has moved that depression level into a critical stage. I'm alone most of the day which in turn makes me want to be alone. I love my work. I want to go back. But I'm scared. I'm scared that I won't fit in. That my coworkers, who are my only friends here, will have excluded me. That I won't have friends here anymore.

Maybe you would never guess that this is what I go through. That any whisper automatically makes my mind think they are talking about me. I'm ashamed of my looks. I'm ashamed of my intelligence. It is why I'm signed up for at least 10 classes every few weeks. I feel like I'm dumb and not in contact with the real world.

What I am about to admit is incredibly hard but I know it is a first step. For those of you who will read this, not comment and then talk about it with others...enjoy yourself. You are part of the problem and not part of the solution. If you want to talk to me about it...please do because I need that contact.

For the past few weeks I've been struggling with an unimaginable pain. One that drugs don't seem to alleviate unless they knock me out. I'm alone most of the day and then my daughters come home and seem to just disappear.

I've thought of suicide many times. I haven't progressed to the plan stage which is a very good thing. But the thought is there. Dave won't understand. He will say that it will get better when I get back to work and get around others. He doesn't like personal issues like this. I would call my psych nurse but she will see me for exactly 15 minutes. Prescribe something and then perhaps have me go check myself in to a facility. That really isn't going to be helpful.

There isn't a moment of the day that I'm not isolating myself now. I'm withdrawing from Dave, which in turn hurts him and makes our marriage definitely rocky to the point of it is VERY bad. I love him but we aren't communicating.

My relationship with my daughters is suffering. How can I connect when I think about leaving them and I've justified it in my mind. Don't call me a coward. Don't tell me how much they need me because they don't. I live with them. They need a wallet with cash and a cell phone and perhaps a ride.

Maybe I'll get through this on my own. Maybe I won't and I'll need help. Maybe just posting this will be enough to give me the strength to see past the pain, know that I'll eventually stop being in agony and I'll find my place again in the world.

Facebook Syndrome

Facebook Syndrome AKA Facebook and the Ever Challenging Social Media Life

 

The past 5 days I have been without my cell phone. At first I literally had a panic attack. What will I do? What if something happens and I can't reach someone or they can't reach me? What if a random pizza delivery driver happens to swerve into an oncoming car, thus creating a fiery inferno, and I can't make that important 911 call?

 

Uh...ya. None of those imagined things came to pass and I'm glad, especially the pizza delivery driver scenario, but it did teach me a valuable lesson. I can live without my cell phone. It has become a crutch that I do love to use but it isn't the end of the world.

 

I also came to a realization about Facebook tonight when I was working on some homework for one of the many classes I take to help keep my mind sharp. It is about social media in the workplace. A decade ago you would not have even really correlated the two entities as being related but trust me...they have.

 

Facebook can break friendships, relationships and cause you to question every single thing about yourself. You see these people who lead super happy lives and then you glance around your messy house and sigh. You aren't taking fabulous vacations. You aren't out with your boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/who the fuck ever. You are at home with your cats. You aren't making those fabulous home cooked extravaganzas. You whipped out the cell phone and ordered from your favorite pizza delivery driver (the one whom did not cause a fiery inferno.)

 

These "friends" of yours are all so happy, fulfilled, raking in money and leading good lives and you are left comparing yourself to them. STOP COMPARING YOURSELF. It is mostly a lie. Of COURSE people are going to put the positive things down. Who is going to be realistic (besides me because I'll put down anything but that is just me) and talk about how their joints ache, they can't poop and their spouse is seeing the pizza delivery driver (the one who probably caused the fiery inferno.)

 

Hello, My name is Shonté and I suffer from Facebook Syndrome. Here is my definition for this very real disease.

Facebook Syndrome: someone who has let a social media site dictate their actions and their feelings. Example: Dude, she has Facebook Syndrome written all over her.

 

Now Facebook Syndrome is closely linked to Spasmodic Facebook Syndrome (SFS for short) which is when someone completely spasms because they cannot compete with their neighbor, their friend did not "Like" or "comment" on a post, or they were unfriended. (Did you know that is now a truly legitimate word? Unfriended is now in the dictionary as of this year. Eh...works for me.)

 

Now being Unfriended is a completely different ballgame than keeping up with all those shiny happy people. People who suck by the way and are completely faking it. No one is THAT happy or on uppers about life all the time. No one has a Molly Freaking Sunshine in their lives that is so insanely happy about her life that she gushes all the time and loooooooves her life and loved ones. My answer to her, or him, is STFU capped off with a two fingered salute.

* Yes this is my more edgy one and I'm perfectly fine with cursing. If you aren't then you shouldn't be reading anything by me. *

Being Unfriended can suck. Wait, it does suck. Everyone gets unfriended from time to time. It might be that you are posting too many game updates and queries. It might be that they just don't know you anymore. It may be that they don't like you. I don't know. I periodically go through and clean my list when I haven't talked to the person ever, or in the last few years. Generally I only do it when someone pisses me off though. I even unfriended my best friend once because I was having a mad fit. It's okay because she then blocked me. AND that is DEFINITELY a different topic. That is like being chained outside your favorite store on Black Friday when everything you love is 99% off. (She was off the Christmas Card list until she sent me birthday flowers and we made up. Or maybe it is because I love her.)

Now why am I bringing this up? Oh yeah. Because I recently found out a work friend? acquanintance? person I pass in the hall? someone I know? (I can't think of what really to call her. We didn't talk much but I did think she had kick ass hair.) Well she unfriended me. It was a hit to the pride. Why? What did I do?

Then I just kinda grinned and said, "Oh well." Because honestly I don't know her. We aren't friends. We were friendly to each other but it has legitimately been two months since I've been to work since my back incident. I'll be going back soon and I'm just enough of a sarcastic bitch that I'll mention it. I'm not mad at her and hopefully if she's cool she will just laugh and say something equally bitchy and sarcastic. That's the way to my heart. It's why me and Kat love each other so much.

 

So here is the thing: If I unfriend you then don't be upset because many times I get in a funk and delete people, convincing myself that I'm finally going off grid and going to get rid of Facebook. Other times i just clean out my list so I can see the people I actively talk to on a regular basis. I'm not a friend collector like my daughters.

The lesson here is don't let social media weigh you down. Don't get mad about what is posted but always feel free to write down what you are thinking and saying provided you are willing to stand up to the oncoming backlash, if there is ever one. It is a lesson you should take with you no matter where you go or what you do.

And if you see my pizza delivery driver...tell him I promise to add him to my Christmas Card list. You keep reading my blogs and you will get to be on it too! Maybe even make the cookie list. :)

Goals and Your End Game

Goals

 

The other day I met a very lovely lady on the plane ride from Atlanta to Portland. Before getting into our conversation let me preface it by stating that typically I ignore my traveling companions unless I already know them. I'm not a plane, train, bus or tram chatter. I am just that way. But for some reason I decided to ask about her line of work.

 

You see the woman beside me was an airline attendant and was on her way to Portland, her home based city, after two exhausting trips to Tokyo for her work shift. The only reason I even knew that was because the working attendant had made a passing comment regarding the lady.

 

I started with the casual conversation starter of, "How long have you been an attendant?"

"40 years," she replied, "And I feel every single one of them." She laughed and I laughed because while she was laughing about the length of time that had flown by, I was laughing about Holy Crap! There is no way in Hell I could last even a month.

We talked about her favorite runs. She loves the Asian stops and hates the UAE. But the conversations became deeper. I asked her why she had chosen that particular line of work and one thing led to another and her statement was, "You have to keep your eyes on your goal."

 

That really spoke to me because lately my eyes have become focused on my long term goal once again. I had forgotten what my End Game was going to be and what I hoped it to be. I am certainly not condeming myself for losing sight but I am a bit perturbed regarding this lack of sight. I am tired of floating through day to day. I do understand that I'm limited in what I do and how fast I do it. That was very evident by my trip home.

 

The trips back East to my childhood home were hellish. It took me at least two days to recover the going to Arkansas and it will probably take three now to recover on the return flight. I'm not going to gripe much because the pain was worth the reward of getting to spend times with some very near and dear friends as well as beloved family members. I just wish I had more time. But it always comes down to that. Time.

 

Is Time on my side with my goals? Am I clear on my goals? The older lady sitting next to me was very wise. She talked to me of being given what I can handle and how I should go about handling it. We both agreed on the Buddhist Philosophy and we both agreed in how unfair it was that two women, or two men, could not marry when it is everyone else can. Every single one of you knows my take on homosexuality and the need for equal rights. It isn't about religion. It is about laws and defending rights.

 

As I sat there waiting to de-board I really reflected on that conversation. How many of you have lost sight of your End Game and your ultimate goal? If you have then don't sweat it but do get back on track. If you haven't then get busy on the rungs of the ladder that will lead you to that goal. I know I have. Lately I have been extremely devoted to finishing my novella. It may not be published. Many of you may not like it but it is something that I must do.

Namasté

Loss of Innocence

Loss of Innocence

 

Life is funny and I am definitely one who has learned to find the humor whenever possible. Even when things are grim, the circumstances are tragic...I've always been the one to try to use humor to help lighten the situation. I guess it has always been that way. Don't get me wrong. There have been and are times in my life when I can't find the funny side. Times when I have fallen and felt like I could not get back up. But with the help of friends, family and a strong will that was genetically passed down to me (and learned) I rubbed some dirt on it and moved on.

 

One of the things, or should I say many things, is when you stop being a child. The exact moments when parts of your innocence is lost. For some people a jaded place takes root. For some it becomes a black tarnish on their soul, aura, and very being. It becomes a hated spot deep inside because the blinders come off.

The first loss of innocence, for me, when a very, very close friend was diagnosed with Leukemia as a teen. I didn't understand it and I didn't cope with it very well. I never visited him in the hospital because I could not face the fact that someone not much older was sick. He died and I still was in denial. At the funeral I sat at the back row of a very packed church. I got up and left because I STILL was in denial. There was NO way someone close to my age, that I loved as a friend and spent a great deal of time with.

I realized that people close to you die but it truly had not hit home yet. That came with the loss of my Papa. I worked at the hospital in the kitchen as my college job, and my mom was my boss. He had been admitted. We knew it was bad but I didn't realize how bad until my mom pulled me into her office and told me that the doctor had given him 6 months to live and it was a brain tumor.

I walked into the hallway, saw my big, burly, larger than life, Paul Bunyan Papa in a wheelchair. I broke down crying. One more piece of innocence lost. They took him home and that is where he remained. For about a month I avoided going to visit which was a RARE thing for me. This was the home I had spent EVERY summer, all summer and every vacation and every weekend I could. This is where I went between college classes to hang out, have lunch etc. I had even lived there for a time. I couldn't face the fact that a man I loved so very, very much was leaving me. I was angry. I was SCARED. I didn't know how to talk to someone who was going to leave and never return.

Another piece of innocence was lost.

I finally did muster the courage to face myself and my fears and I went to him. I went into the bedroom, sat down, and started crying. I apologized for leaving him. He wasn't as big. He had already given up. I hadn't deep inside. There was that spark of hope that this was a mistake on the doctor's part. He waited for me to stop bawling, pulled me close to his hospital bed and said, "I understand. I love you." He forgave me for something that to this exact day I have never forgiven myself for. I didn't miss another day with him until he died. I wasn't there when he died though. I had driven home hurriedly to shower and change. He passed while I was not there. Courtney called me and said, "Shon...get back here now." I knew what had happened.

 

Another piece was gone but this time much, much bigger because mortality hit at that exact moment.

 

If my mom had just lost her father, and later her mother, then....I was going to lose them some day. I cried even more at the funeral. I mourned my Papa leaving me. No more creek trips. No more tractor rides. No more rice hauling trips in his big red semi. No more me fixing him lunch. No more watching baseball with him. But I suddenly realized one day I would lose my parents.

That was the hardest piece of innocence I have ever lost.

 

My Granny died years later and I mourned that I hadn't spent more time with her but I lived hours away, had two kids, a husband, a household and a full time job.

 

My father passed away 11 months ago today. For some reason I did not have my phone next to my bed that night before. But I woke up around 4:00 am. I had many missed calls and tons of text messages telling me to call home. I knew what had happened. I called and Courtney said, "Come home now. Dad is gone." My response was, "No. No. No. No he is NOT gone." I crashed to my knees and Dave came running out. I screamed and I cried. I was over 2000 miles away and I had NOT been there again.  I had visited in August and we had talked but once again we had not really had "THE" conversation that hangs over anyone's head who has a terminal illness. I avoided it. I teased him and we laughed. We watched TV together. He hugged me so many times and I never wanted to let go. My larger than life dad was going to leave me but wait! I still had that spark of hope.

 

It hasn't gotten easier. In fact the last 3 weeks have gotten worse. But today the last of my innocence died. I realized that one day I would lose the woman I love the most in the entire world. The woman who I am more like than anyone else. My sister, Sasha,  inherited Dad's demeanor and ability to dazzle people. I told people at his visitation that I got dad's figure and she got his personality. Courtney is mini-Stan except quieter.

 

But me...I get mom. I understand how she works because I work like her, well except physically because that woman gets stuff done. Oh and she cooks better than anyone I've ever known. I love this woman with my entire heart. There is NOTHING I would not do for her. But eventually I will lose her. Part of me is selfish and wants to go before because then I wouldn't lose that part of my heart and soul.

But then I remember a blog I wrote a few months ago. I pray every single night that I NEVER have to bury one of the girls. I could never survive and would not want to survive if I lost them. So I find myself torn between selfishness and knowing someday my heart will break.

 

My mom will read this and probably tell me she will whip my ass for even thinking that thought.

It is a loss of innocence and a conundrum. You know as you start to grow older that your parents begin to get older as well. No one escapes time. No one. Life moves on.

Next month will be the hardest of the 8th's. It will be one year. I will grieve quietly here 2000+ miles from the rest of my family. I am going back, no matter how painful it will be, on Thursday because I have to go back. It will be hard physically. It will be hard mentally. It will be a very short visit because of doctor visits, more tests and physical therapy that I will immediately return to,  but it is something I have to do for myself.

So if you talk to me next month on the 8th...understand if my voice catches and tears come to my eyes. Just nod but don't tell me you understand. Just let me know you are there for me if I need you. Hug me. Pat me on the shoulder.

 

For those that know what I've been dealing with these past 3 weeks or so, and who actually believe me and don't think it's the medicine, I leave you with this:

"Just when the caterpillar thought her life was over...she became a butterfly."

Namasté

A Letter to Other Parents (or Potential Parents)

A Letter to Other Parents (Potential Parents)

 

I have realized, as my daughters have gotten older, that there are three types of parents. Others will argue that this is a blanket statement but they can shut it. If you disagree then prove it. Otherwise I'll stick to my guns on this one. There are three types of parent categories that a parent can unwittingly fall into.

1) The Friend

This is a DANGEROUS category of parenting. It means to know all the details of your child's life and you'll say, do, or be anything they want just to show you are the "cool" parent. You are the parent that lets your kid and her friends drink at home (because it is better to drink at home than out on the road...right?) You let them do whatever they want because you do not want them to dislike you. You're their buddy. You're the parent that attacks other kids, and often encourages it, on social media. You are your daughter's bestie for the restie.

My answer: Fuck that shit. (Excuse the language for those that do not know I cuss like a sailor on shore leave in Bankok) It's okay, to a reasonable degree, to let your child break loose at home on occasion. To let them break the boundaries and be able to tell you the important things. But you do not want to know all the details and you shouldn't. There will, hopefully, come a time when they want to be your friend and can talk to you about the important things. The reality is that no matter how close you think you are to your daughter or son...you aren't. You don't look cool hanging out with them. You look desperate. Remember that mom on "Mean Girls?" That's you. Ya...pathetic. You are a grownup. Act like one and don't try to be the best friend of your child.

2) The Absent Parent

This is the saddest parent of all. I'd much rather see a #1 than this category. This is the parent who just doesn't care what their child does. Or this is the parent that wants to punish all the time simply because they do not want to deal with the kid. They want to live their lives and forget that they have replicas living under their own roof that will someday be the same way to their children unless they are able to break that vicious cycle. This parent doesn't care if the kid drinks as long as they don't get busted because they don't want to take the time to educate the child on waiting and being responsible. This parent is out partying, living life, driving a two seat sports car because they want more for themselves than they want for those symbioses mooching off them at home. They just want them out.

3) The Parents who will get their Heart Broken but eventually have great kids.

This is the category that most, if not all, my friends and family fall into. It is the parents that love their children enough to say "No" and to mean it. These are the parents that will watch their little Tinkerbell grow up into a petulant teen that will lash out and hurt you to your very core. These are the parents that are strict enough that they will eventually hear "I hate you." Teens that will swear you know nothing about what they are going through and that you never listen, that you don't know the pressure they are under or even the slightest detail of their lives unless it is something they have done wrong. Even when the parents can silently list every single boyfriend/girlfriend, class load, friend, etc. These are the parents that will cry at night because they are afraid they aren't doing something right, can't give their children more than they had growing up or that they have lost their children. These are the parents that worry about their child's friends influencing them. They gripe about the kids that want to party because they are afraid of losing their child in an accident. These are the parents that once said, "My child is not going to be that way" and then later have to eat their words. These are the parents that get so mad and frustrated that they call their own parents and apologize for everything they did as teens and say, "You were right and I was wrong." These are the parents that start out with lofty goals of having a prodigy and teaching them the "right" way only to find out that parenting is a learned skill.  There is NOTHING in a book that will prepare you or give you the guidance you need. These parents have to be accommodating and flexible. Things never go as planned.

 

I've met parents in the 1 & 2 category and unfortunately there is nothing you can ever say to make them change their mind. That is their way. I've met some that are so over protective that the children eventually rebel as soon as they are able and become walking/talking terrors to the rest of the world.

 

The point is that there is no happy medium. #3 category is where most people fall. It hurts when your teen becomes her/his own person. It hurts to see them cry over a crush and to experience their first heartbreak but it has to happen. It hurts to see them fail but it has to happen. That is life. Life is about falling and having the will power and courage to stand right up again. "Rub some dirt on it." The greatest thing about being a parent, though, is knowing that no matter what your child does...you will always love him or her. Nothing can ever change it. You may not like them at times, and that is TOTALLY normal. You may want to lock them in a cage...just don't do it because CPS might frown on it but it is totally okay if you want to lock yourself in your bedroom to escape. Don't feel bad about wanting a vacation by yourself. Don't feel bad about needing a night out on the town every once in a while. Don't feel bad about needing that glass (ahem...bottle sometimes) of wine to combat their whine. Get a hobby and don't center your life around your kid's life. Don't limit yourself to friend's that only interact in some way currently, or in the past, with your child. Don't spend every moment of your free time with your child, unless they are a newborn (and even then get some alone time or you'll go freaking nuts eventually).

 

You are going to mess up. You are going to say the wrong thing. You may even lash out and say something you don't mean. All it takes is an apology.

Want to know my secret? I slip notes into my daughters' books for them to find at a later date. Notes that let them know I love them and that I do notice their achievements along with their failures. Notes that mention a certain boy. Notes that remind them of something funny they once did as a little kid. Or they are notes that just let them know how much I love them. Notes are my way of communicating, as evident by the fact that I am far more eloquent writing than in real life. I do my best but I'm learning as I go. And as I've said many times...I may not survive the teen years. Namasté my friends.

 

 

Why Me?

Why me?

Many times when I am doing something else, like let's say...playing Farmville 2 (hey don't knock it. It is an absentminded game where I can actually make something grow) and I begin thinking of something. That something pings around in my mind for a while. It begins to grow and sentences begin to form and I begin to ponder those sentences. Before I know it, that little thing has become something I need to write.

It happens quite a lot with me. This entire setback has had one perk and it is that I came up with a new story. Unfortunately I don't have my laptop so I've been handwriting it and will have to eventually try to decipher my handwriting and put it into a readable format.  It may only make it to a few people, I may submit it, eh...who knows. But it will finally be out of my mind and the voice will be silent. That's how my stories work. I hear a phrase or see a scene and then the characters begin clamoring to tell their story. Sometimes, in the case of Maggie, the story goes silent for a long time. Even when I am being pressured to finish. I just stop hearing her. I still know her story but it isn't time for the rest of it yet. She will eventually pipe up again and this time I'll keep listening until her story is finished.

So back to the title "Why me?" I have been told recently that I am a drama queen. I didn't realize this but hey, give me some slack, I have been in a tremendous amount of pain, isolated almost 20 hours a day and on heavy narcotics with a side shot of enough antibiotics to keep me sufficiently sick most of the time. I'll let that drama queen remark slide. I'm not a pleasant sick person. I don't know of anyone that is and that is okay. When you don't feel good you earn the right to be as icky, bitchy and whiney as you want. Those same people that call you drama queen and roll their eyes are the same ones that tend to be even worse when they are ill.

So "Why me?" This year has been rough on me physically. First I break my big toe in a completely freak, and random, way. No big deal. Then I have to have a total hysterectomy with the big "C" scare. That was a big deal and I had to cope with it emotionally, financially and physically. It took much longer than I thought to bounce back from that one. I'd take one step forward and three steps back. I would feel good and then I'd rip something internally or develop a staph infection. Not good on any front. But I overcame it and thought life was headed down the easy street for the rest of the year.

Then a simple twisted muscle/charley horse feeling lead to immediate spinal surgery. Okay...I start to get better and then I plummet into far worse. The type of worse that makes a world renowned neurosurgeon rush you into surgery on a Saturday night at 10:30. It wasn't until I was out and recovering that I found out how bad it is, and even how rare it is, for someone to develop a full blown infection along their spine and throughout their back.

Who did it? Ya. (Pointing finger at chest.) This girl. Please hold the applause until after the show.

Why me? Why was I the one lying in the hospital bed with a drain pump coming out of my back, writhing in absolute agony? Why had I endured my leg being completely paralyzed and now only partially working when it wanted to work? Why? Why? Why?

This always leads to other "Why's" in life. Why did I move so far from my family and friends? I wanted them more than anything. My mom was coming out in a week but I wanted that to be a well-visit. Not a Shonté can barely move, barely walk and is heavily medicated with gross nylon stitches coming out of her back.

Then came the pity party of "Why's". Those are the best. (I'm saying that completely with a stone cold face so you know that I'm being absolutely sarcastic.) Why did my dad die last November? Why did I feel abandoned by my husband? Why did no one come to visit me? Why was I even on this planet? Why did these things keep happening? Why is my insurance being one gigantic dick?

Today it hit. Why not me? I'm not any more special than anyone else on this planet. Bad things happen to everyone  and there is absolutely NO exception. If you think you are special...sorry cupcake but you aren't. You are not special. You may be unique. You may be interesting.  But you aren't the kind of "SPECIAL" that warrants you a hall pass against bad things happening. No one on this planet is that kind of special.

I've learned it is often a dog eat dog world. I've learned that many people lack empathy. I've learned that it is easy to forget those that are not directly in front of you while you go about your day.

 

The hardest thing I've learned is what loneliness can do to a person.  My father was sick for many years before he passed away last November 8th. Before he became ill to the point he could not look after himself, he stayed by himself. I can tell you now, from personal experience, that it is a living hell. The first day after I was discharged I was so sick I could barely crawl down my stairs. I tried for two hours to boil some eggs to eat anything to take away the nausea from the medications. I could barely stand. I had to rest for every few steps. I dragged myself to the couch and slept for two hours before trying to get anything into me. I struggled to open my medication just to get any relief from the agonizing pain shooting down my spine. I couldn't sit comfortably. I could barely walk. I could not make out my phone enough to text or call anyone. I finally managed to call Dave and he came and made me some soup. I took about three bites and, with his help, got back into bed.

 

I learned since then that loneliness is what kills people. When you want anyone to come sit with you and visit but at the same, very weird time, you begin to NOT want people to see you like that. The days when you do not have the strength to shower and you don't know the day of the week. When walking down the stairs and sitting down is all the power you have and you know you wouldn't be able to visit with them.

My mom coming and helping me was a godsend. She didn't expect me to entertain her, even though I felt guilty that I couldn't. She helped do things around the house. She kept me from trying to do things my Dr would have an apoplectic fit over. She talked to me and she listened. We talked a lot about my dad and what changes had happened in her life.  I sat in awe of my mother and all I could think was how fucking strong this woman is and how she has carried on in a way that I never would have been able. It is coming up on 11 months and I am just barely able to even talk about him without breaking down in tears. Thinking about him has me bawling.

 

Being alone gives you a LOT of time to become a drama queen, throw a huge ass pity party and it allows you to take stock of your life. Even this simple blog today has taken over 12 hours to write. Not because I had to stop and think of it but simply because I can't sit in a chair for more than 15 minutes without the shooting agony to begin. So I get up and I try to walk and when my leg starts to go...I kinda find a weird position on the couch.

Why me? Because I can do it. That is why. This, pffft, this isn't the end of me. It may change how I do things but it isn't changing me in a bad way. It is making me stronger. I KNOW I can take care of myself when I don't think I can, when I'm sick, when I'm weak. I KNOW I can overcome. I KNOW that "Why me" has become a way of thinking that it is simply another hurdle in life. The day you let yourself drown in the "Why me's" and you don't stand up and chuck it under the chin, is the day you lie down and give up. Maybe there will eventually be a "Why me" that does beat me but it isn't today. It isn't tomorrow.

 

If there is anything to take from this blog it is this: any single kindness to someone who is down is one of the greatest things at that moment in his/her life. It is easy to forget when someone is not direct in front of you. When the "Why me?" starts getting you down just remember that you are strong enough to say back, "Why not me? I can take it."

Letter to my Daughters

A Letter to my Daughters

 

Dear Daughters,

I wanted to take a moment and talk to you. Well, not literally talk to you, but more figuratively. Sit down and let me impart a bit of my knowledge. I know you are at the age when you think you have it all down pat but humor me for a bit.

As I was tending the yard, I had an epiphany. Once upon a time I hated doing any type of housework. It all seemed futile. The grass would just grow up again. The dishes and laundry would just pile up. It was a monotony of the same chores over and over each week. I wanted to do something with my life. I wanted to have a fabulous career and be someone special.

Children do not, necessarily, make someone special. There are some fabulously special people in the world that do not have children, either through choice or circumstance. Did you make me special? No. As hard as that is to believe, I do have a life outside of you. But here is what makes me special, and one day I hope it makes you special as well, I developed understanding and empathy.

So here are some lessons I learned that I pass to you. As you know, the 8th of each month is special to me. It is a reminder that life is fleeting but the knowledge and memories you leave behind are monumental and immortal.  My parents, grandparents and friends have left indelible marks on my life. It is especially my parents and grandparents that have left the greatest. My dad left me the ability to stop and think. My mom is showing me, every single day, what true love is and how to be strong when others would crumble.

·         Your job is not what defines you. You define your job. This may seem confusing but it really all comes down to your ethics. Everyone answers to someone. While you may at times think a job is beneath you, it really is not. You are learning something each and every time you go to work. You are learning how to meet new people. You are learning new things. You are learning responsibility. Whether it is flipping burgers or running a billion dollar company...you are defining your job. Never disrespect those individuals you feel are working dead end jobs or service industry jobs. Without them, society would cease to function.

·         Tasks you think are a waste of time...actually do have purpose. I hated doing yard work or housework. Yet I saw my parents enjoy doing them. Why on earth would anyone like getting dirty or cleaning? I understand now. It is a task that has a beginning and an end. It is an accomplishment. Strive for the highest goal you can imagine but keep those small tasks. Each one checked off is an accomplishment. They may not mean much at the time but they will be satisfying later.

·         I am not your friend. A parent makes a horrible mistake the moment they want to be their child's friend. A friend implies that they will understand and encourage certain behavior and, at the same time, tolerate certain behavior. Friend's are not responsible for your actions and are not always going to guide you in the right direction. Get back to me on that when you are in your 20's. I want your respect. I want your trust. But I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to know every single thing you are doing. It would drive me insane. I will later be your friend. I want to eventually be your friend. But we are not at that point in our lives.

·         One day you will experience grief. You do not understand why I cry so much at the loss of my father. The loss of my grandparents. One day I hope you do grieve for me because I certainly do not want to be left grieving for you. That may be selfish of me but a parent's worst nightmare is having to see their child out of this world. From the moment you both came into this world, I was plagued by nightmares of losing you. Every parent has those thoughts. Strike that. Every GOOD parent has those thoughts. The "What If's" drive new parents crazy. I once actually panicked at the thought of a wolf breaking into the house and attacking you. Laugh all you want now but irrational fears are what drives a parent to be protective. My heart breaks when you cry but I never want to have mine broken by losing you. You two mean that much to me. You are my life.

·         Pain is a part of life. There will be times when pain brings you to your knees. When life seems futile and hopeless. Just remember that all things fade with time. The wounds that are raw at the moment will eventually heal and leave a scar. Don't cover the scar. Don't stare at it daily either but make sure you know it is there. It is a reminder that you are alive and will keep fighting back.

These are just a few things that I want you to know. You will make mistakes and that is okay. You will learn. My dad, very often when growing up, would just look at me and shake his head. When I eventually figured it out he would say, "Red, now you are being smart. Use your head." My mom's best advice came to me by watching her and seeing her actions. Her mantra is, "Just get it done." It is simple but extremely powerful and effective.

I love you both and hope one day you will understand what I am trying to say to you. I want you to fulfill your dreams, no matter what they are. There is nothing that you will ever do that makes me not love you. I may get angry at times but I always love and support you. You will stumble. You will fall but hopefully you will have enough of me, your grandparents, your aunts, cousins, and friends, in you that you will stand back up and keep on going.

Love,

Shonté (aka Mom)