The Power of Love

The Power of Love

I sat here tonight talking with my incredibly wise and sage-like daughter about self-esteem. Now to preface it isn’t about her self-esteem, it is about a friend of hers. The friend, like many young women, battles with self-esteem and the need to be loved. But love comes at a steep price. Ask anyone that has been married. Love is not a bouquet of flowers to cheer you up, it is being there to prune the weeds. It isn’t a warm hug, it is someone wrapping themselves around you to protect you. It isn’t someone going shopping with you to fill the pantry, it is someone there to share those meals. 

Love is rocky, deep and it can be incredibly trying. Nothing will test you like love does. And it could be parental love, loving a child, a sibling, a friend or a romantic love. Loving is hard, and it comes with tears. But. At the end of it all it comes with a sense of belonging. The right love does. Love can power the world. Love can change the world. The wrong “Love” isn’t love at all. It disguises itself with the mantle of love and wears its skin well. And many people, I included over the years, fail to see the difference.

So, what is the difference? The wrong “love” is destructive. It masks itself as something pretty and nice, but it isn’t. And often we are giving ourselves the wrong type of love. We are allowing another person to use our bodies, minds and our souls. We exchange bits of ourselves in the hopes of finding that real love. We take up the dice and we roll hoping to not crap out. We win one hand and it isn’t enough, so we roll again because we are SURE that the next time will be the big winner. And it keeps going. We come close, we roll a few snake eyes and still…we hold out. We KNOW the right person is out there, so we must cast our nets out further and wider hoping for that big win.

I’m here to tell you my friends that the dice are loaded. When we pick up those bones we have already lost the game. That isn’t love. Love isn’t selfish. Love comes from within. It isn’t what we hope to gain…it is what we give.

We give love freely to those that deserve our love. But we first make sure that the love we give is pure and not filled with caveats. The love we make within ourselves changes people. It makes those rocky times worth it. It is your love that brings peace and warmth to others. And the best part? You have this incredible opportunity to give it freely! But that takes time. As Mama Ru said, “If you can’t love yourself how the HELL you gonna love somebody else? Can I get an Amen!”

Amen Mama Ru! That is the truth. The power of love starts from within. The spark is given to us and we must learn to nourish it throughout our lives. We must take care and protect it from the cold winds of indifference. We must shield it from time and callousness. We must raise it above our heads when the floods come. We must carefully cup our hand around it when others try to blow it out. Don’t let that love die. It is the one thing, above all others, that is our gift.

The power of love moves me to tears. I think back to when I first held the girls and I gave them my heart. They were not able to give me love but I gave them all of mine. The best life lesson I have learned is that you’re not limited by the size of your heart because it only keeps growing! You have a child and you think, “I cannot possible love another as much as I love you.” And you are proven wrong when you have your next child.

The same thing is true with everything. When you give freely of your own accord from a solid place within yourself, your heart grows.

But you must love yourself first. You must learn to love and respect yourself. Respect yourself. Look yourself in the mirror and stop covering your flaws. Stop telling yourself lies. Stop being the victim. Love each facet and if you do not? Change those things you do not love.

 Do you feel upset because the guy you love didn’t text you back? Put down your phone and just walk away. 

Does the girl/guy you envy make you feel less? Put it down and just walk away from it.

It does not own you. You define how you will be treated, and you guessed it! It all comes from loving yourself.

Life is going to test you in every possible way it can. You are going to feel broken at times and that is okay. Because one of those loves you gave freely will be there to pick you up and help you put all the pieces back together. Love given will come back to you. Be ready to accept it.

My parting words to you are simple. Be easy with yourself. Nourish your soul. Keep your love growing and flowing. Love may be tough at times but it is worth it.

When the Lights Turn Low

I am sitting here just contemplating. I have some major decisions I have to make with my life and I'm not jumping into, or out of them without great thought. You see...I used to be very impulsive. If something was wrong I just bailed or got rid of it rather than repair it. There were some gems thrown away along with the trash.

I'm not the same person as I was 20 years ago. I am not the same person I was 10 years ago and I'm not the person I was 1 year ago. Time and perspective change how you view the past but it is patience and understanding that color the future.

I don't know where my life will take me. I've never been one to think too much into the future. That is probably going to bite me in the ass come retirement but with my student loan and credit card debt I'll have to work until 100 anyway. Maybe I'll be one of those people greeters. Nah. I have little patience  with most people.

My thoughts have turned towards my past. Things that went wrong but turned out very right. People from  my past that were so right that became so wrong. I didn't love myself so I couldn't love anyone else. That's my burden to carry. But regardless of how many times I tell myself I would have gone back and changed things...I wouldn't.

For many years I thought I had made a monumental mistake of leaving a few people. I kept trying to imagine what my life would be like had I stayed. It wouldn't be this and I'm glad I didn't have the power to change the past. The past shaped me. It broke me at times but I grew stronger. I became more confident in myself. I learned what I liked and what I didn't like.

I realized tonight that maybe my friend's list needed some clearing. That maybe the people I once loved and used to be great friends with...simply don't need me. I'm a reminder of a bad time in their lives. And I take 60% responsibility with most of those things. Not all but most.

We all change and grow. We all change and wither on the vine at times. But time always pushes us into the future whether we go kicking and screaming or running for joy. Nothing remains the same and that has been life's hardest lesson for me to grasp, and I'm not quite sure that I've entirely grasped that and maybe that is a personal hang up. I tend to like status quo. I don't rock the boat.

That boat needs to sink sometimes. Sometimes people are just toxic to you in one way or another. And that is okay. If you are okay with that then you do you. If you have people that are simply another number on your friend's list then maybe that is okay too. We don't have to talk to each other every single day because  some friends can go weeks and months without talking and then when they chat again it is like no time every passed. I learned that with a woman I absolutely treasure. I learned that with people I talk to very frequently as well. I want to treasure my friends.

But when the lights turn low and I'm feeling melancholy I look at some of the ex's in my life (spouse, friend etc) that may just need to be let go. It isn't that I don't still have a deep love for them, instead it is more of a cleansing. You can only go so long with no response to anything before you realize that the ship sailed many years ago.

I will not lie. I struggle at times and maybe that is a hoarding thing. I've learned to accept that I am a clothing, makeup, shoe and purse hoarder. It's an issue and one that is soooo hard to break that habit. But I also hoard friends. People that really have no use for me and that is okay. Life takes us all in different directions. I have a great pen pal that I realized I hadn't responded back to an email in ten days. We are kinda like that though.

So with the lights low I need to make decisions and meditate. I need to remove myself from the lives of people where I am the toxic one. I am the one that should have been left long in the past. Maybe this is finally learning a new lesson and knowing that time does not change things. Hurts can be forgiven but the memory remains and it becomes toxic.

So to the people I have hurt in the past...I'm sorry. But the only thing I would change is the pain and the emotional upheaval. We wouldn't be the people we are now had those things not happened. Maybe it is a c'est la vie or Que Sera Sera mentality. All I know is that I treasure the good moments in the past and no matter how much I paint the picture in gold it really is just a coat of paint. Maybe life for us would have been fantastic. Maybe it would be lottery winning epic. Or maybe it is just us at a point in life where we start learning the hardest lessons...time moves on and we have to move with them.  We have to embrace new relationships (friendships, romance, work, hobby and all things in between.

The lights are turned low and maybe things could have been different but I LIKE who I am now. And though I have many years of screw ups ahead of me. Though I will hit rock bottom with depression and anxiety many times....at this moment I am okay. I wish you the best even when I know you'll never read this.

A Love Story: Stan and Barbara Wilson

Yesterday I re-posted a picture of my father just weeks before he passed away. It upset my mother and caused her to cry. That broke my heart. I cannot imagine loving someone so much that going on with life is a daily battle. I loved, and still love, my father so incredibly much but no matter how much I love him it will never be at the level of my mother's love for him. So let me tell you about a love story that will never end. (Please bear in mind that my memory is crappy at best and that I'm remembering this as second hand knowledge. I'm sure errors will be made but you'll get the gist of it.)

Once upon a time there was a young girl and a young man. The young girl knew the young man through family and friends. For a long time the young girl and young man were just friends and eventually became best friends. Thus began a love story that would span decades together and a love that will never end.

The young girl and young man had a child. Though times were turbulent between them, they reunited and married. The child got to be at her parent's wedding and she was so cute. They were young and faced an uphill battle. It was a small town and the couple struggled to make ends meet. But love led to the birth of another beautiful child. Though the baby was blonde, they loved her just as much.

In order to save money, the new family moved into the tiniest home imaginable. So tiny that it didn't have a bathroom and everyone had to go to the outhouse in the back. But the pictures showed a happy family.

Eventually the couple bought a little trailer and before long another child was born. Though the two oldest siblings were told that their mom and dad would be bringing home a monkey...they still loved the beautiful addition. Even though she was clearly not a monkey and there were some hurt feelings over this, they had a new baby sister and the happy family was complete.

Times were still hard but the couple worked together. Thru good times and bad the couple were always there for each other. Decades passed and nothing separated the two. Life tested them and still they rose to meet those challenges. Their vow "through sickness and health" was tested and still their love never diminished.

Fast forward decades and they were no longer young but still in love. That young man and young woman aged and were given grandchildren. Those grandchildren were deeply loved and appreciated. The love they felt for each other, and their children and grandchildren, never diminished. Though other beloved family members passed on, they were there for each other.

As time passed the man grew sick but still their love held them together. The woman never faltered in protecting him and encouraging him to keep going on and to reach for health. But as life sometimes does, it didn't listen to their love and the man grew sicker and sicker. Nothing could be done and one morning the man did not awaken. He had passed on from this life. The woman was devastated. Her one true love had gone onto the next adventure without her and she didn't know if she had the strength to go on.

Years began to pass and still the grief was just as raw. The children often found themselves crying over saved voicemail messages, Facebook posts and picture but no matter how much they loved and desperately missed the man...it did not compare to the grief and the broken heart of the woman.

Time has no meaning when there is a love that never dies. The woman knew that one day she would be reunited with the man whom she had loved. She cries at night for her loss and there are no words or condolences that take that pain away. But one day they will be reunited.


My dad was an incredible person. He loved us greatly. Growing up we knew that he was a fierce protector of his family. If someone offended or hurt mom...God help that person and that included us. We were never allowed to disrespect her or treat her badly. He had the hard job, though, as the disciplinarian. There were a lot of times when we would here, "Wait 'till we get home and your father hears about this." Those words would send terror shooting through us.We may have tested his patience but he remained the rock and the protector.

In fourth grade a teacher humiliated and hurt me in front of the whole class. I came home crying and my dad went back to the school to do some damage. I got a half-assed apology the next day. My dad gave me my first memorable birthday present (it was from both of them). It was a tote, a small radio and a book about Abraham Lincoln.

Dad never refused us anything if he was able to do it. The one exception was that he wasn't going to help us move again. I can now see that and don't blame him. We might have been gypsies. Okay so maybe it was more me being a gypsy.

On November 8th, we will have been separated from our father, and mom's love, for 5 years. I'll be honest...I hate this time of year. There are too many losses that have occurred. And even though it has been 5 years, I sit here crying as I write this. My sisters and my mom would probably give anything to just sit with him again. I'd take even 5 minutes.

My dad loved us kids equally with no one of us being loved more. We all tried his patience at times but he never stopped loving us and showing us that love. We each had an incredible, but sometimes different, connection with him. But no one loved him more than my mom. I saw pain when my Papa died and my Granny was left without him. She crumbled and I decided, then and there, that I would never let someone into my heart in that way. I never wanted to love someone so much that their death would make me falter.

I don't know how my mom does it and there is not one of us that can understand her pain because that pain is unique to each person. As much as I grieve I know that my mom grieves far more and far deeper. When I find myself irritated at my mom, I know that my dad would be disappointed, and pissed, if I hurt her. I remember that they loved each other with the power of a thousand suns.

One day they will be reunited. A love story like theirs doesn't fade and nothing can stop it. My sisters' and my love for my dad will never fade as well. And even though there were hard times in the past, hurt feelings or struggles...we should concentrate on the good. The joy that one man brought to so many people.

The only way I can end this story is with this...I love you dad and I love you mom. That will never change.

The Devil You Face...Every Single Day

This is not a happy go-lucky blog. It isn't one gushing about how great the summer has been and how I'm feeling so good with myself. This is a blog about how things started to go downhill really hard and the time that has passed since I broke a promise to myself.

It started back in 1976. I'm not kidding. All this really started back on the day of my birth. Well technically that is not true. It happened at my conception in 1975. I am the combination of two incredible sets of DNA provided, of course, by my mother and my father. It was a wonderful creation because I came out of it!

During my development, physically, there was also development about certain genetic traits that were not understood back then. Many people then, and some still now, believed that depression and mental illness (I hate that term. Mental illness. Is the mind really sick?) isn't genetically passed down but science, physical and psychological, have proven this to not be true. Depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder etc are all things that can be passed down from one generation to the next and so on. Are you going to be bipolar because your mother/father/relative suffers from this illness? You may have the genetic code for this but you deal with it in a different manner so it does not impact you in the same way that it may impact others. This could be that you are surrounded by positive reinforcement that keeps those shadows at bay whereas another person is affected negatively and can't develop those reinforcements or they simply can't hold it off for long.

Your mind is a phenomenal machine. It never stops working and in my case, it kept the depression and anxiety constantly circulating. The mind tells you enough times that you aren't good enough, you will never accomplish anything or simply holds emotions away from you and eventually your own mind will break you.  Think of it in terms of your body being an airplane with the mind as the pilot. Oops someone in first class fell down and spilled some wine, the pilot says "fuck it all" and decides to crash the plane. Nothing else is wrong but the pilot feels that it has had enough and can't go on. Not realizing that the wine can be cleaned up. That there is nothing wrong with the plane and that the journey can continue but the pilot doesn't see it that it can go on. All the pilot can think about is that spilled wine and how everything is crashing around it. 

The truth is that with depression comes a lot of spills and the brain makes those spills often a lot worse than they are. For those that do not suffer from depression, anxiety, bipolar or any number of psychological issues, this is a foreign concept. They may be appalled that anyone can think death is the answer. Logically on a good day I agree. I know the damage it does because I have seen it in my own family. I know the fallout. You may recognize and KNOW that on one day but on another day your mind hides that from you. It makes excuses and the lies it tells itself to keep fueling that illness.

So back to that broken promise. In 2015 I was going through a really rough cycle and reached rock bottom. I decided that when all things were right and my tasks done, then I could finally say good-bye. I gave myself one year and promised myself that in July of 2016 I would commit suicide. Why 2016? It would happen after my youngest daughter graduated from High School. I thought she would be in a place where she could understand it and would not be affected. Same for my oldest daughter. They would no longer need me.

My depression lasted a really long time before cycling out. And it really never truly "cycled out." I began to just live day by day. But I never stopped thinking about the coming date. 

During this time I also found out I had IIH. IIH is Idiopathic Intercranial Hypertension. Another name for it is Pseudo Tumor Cerebri. And it acts just like the name. Your brain thinks it has a tumor pressing into it. What actually happens is that your body produces too much cerebral spinal fluid and it can not drain it off. It builds in your skull and compresses it. To say it hurts is horribly understatement. I was going through weeks and weeks of level 9 migraines. I could barely hear at times for the tinnitus. My vision was if you were trying to peer through a black screen door. Nothing was clear.

Work was horrendous as well. I left my company and went to a job I thought I was going to excel within but that good old friend depression, combined with massive pain, sabotaged me. It is a common theme with me and I hate it. I self-sabotage and really fuck things up. Looking back at my life I can see where I did that a LOT. But I broke that promise.

The new job happened around the time of my promise. That date I had scheduled the year prior. I was still lonely. I still missed my friends and family but I had a new focus. I kept pushing the promise date out further and further. Then the self sabotage hit. I failed at my job. Leaving there was rough. I was suddenly facing the holidays and the pain, depression and feeling like a failure kicked my depression and anxiety up to level 10's. That meant having to find new dosages of medicines. I still kept pushing that date out though. I wasn't going to end it at during that time of year but the fall from October to December is ALWAYS a low time for me. It's been that way for about 27 years. It started at 15 or so and then my dad died. My grandmother died and that year my aunt died. All close together.

I could have used my downtime to write and work on my 2nd book, or edit the first one but I couldn't focus enough to do that. Instead I started drawing. I'd draw flowers. Making a garden of blooms in a time of decay. They may have been paper but they made me happy. Sharing them with others made me happier. 

Fast forward to today. I've sabotaged myself a few more times and I currently feel overwhelmed but I'm not pushing my promise out day by day any longer. For now that date will remain a broken promise and I'll move on with my life. I'll use personal development tools to keep me on point. I am not delusional though. I know the depression (regardless of the tons of medicines I take) will still be with me but as long as I acknowledge it, rather than try to hide it, it can't take me. 

That pilot isn't going to crash me today or tomorrow. The pilot doesn't have a landing date yet and the engines are still good to go. There is some gas in the tank and I know that spilled wine doesn't mean you have to toss out the whole plane. Will I ever get past the suicide line into all is peachy and dandy? Yeah some days will be good. Some will be bad. 

I will keep fighting that fight. That is how people cope with depression. They find things that make them want to fight. And I want any of you to know that I get it. I'm here for you at any time on any day. I will help you fight it. It may be a long conversation due to distance but I'm still here. I know that for me, I have to start finding activities that take me out of my isolation. Whenever I keep isolating myself is when the depression kicks in the hardest.

Deciding to write this down wasn't easy. I don't know how it will go over but I do want my family and friends to know that I'm not hiding these things. I refuse to let it silently crash my plane and it also lets them know that having depression, especially in my family, is always watching. We band together, be vigilant and know that we have each other no matter what. 

Letter to My Daughters: The Next Phase

Dear daughters,

Once, long ago, I wrote a letter to you explaining why I was not your friend. Today I write you as a Mother and a friend. You've both come so far and have accomplished so many things but those are just the tiniest tip of the iceberg. Soon you will go onto the next phase of your life. I'll always be in your life, hopefully, but a lot of what comes next will fall squarely onto your shoulders.

I'll never stop giving you advice, and you'll take some hopefully and leave some, and I'll never stop loving you. Even when you make it difficult, there is nothing you can ever do that would stop that love and the need to protect you. But now is the time for that protection to step back and let you live your lives.

You are going to fall.

Life is going to throw a LOT at you and sometimes it is all at once. Life trips us up. We are power walking down the sidewalk of life and we hit a bump. We stumble a little bit but keep on going. But there are going to be times when you hit a hole and you fall down. You are going to fall and at times it is going to feel as if the world is out to get you, or that you'll never move past it. You will. It isn't about how many times we fall, instead it is how many times you stand back up. You may have to stagger to your knees at first but you will stand. And it is how you stand that will make all of the difference. Always stand with purpose and integrity. Those are the two things that come free in life. Use them often. And when you fall and need a helping hand...I'll be there. I may be screaming from the sidelines but I'll be there.

You are going to Love, Lose, Cry and Hate

Love is a very strange thing and it can make fools of us all. Don't pattern your love life after mine. I wasn't smart or independent as much as I should've and that's okay. I'm still a work in progress. The same thing should apply to you at every stage of your life. Love with all your heart but know that love can make it fragile. It can crack. It can shatter but it can always be put back together. Your heart is much like a sword. It has to be tempered. It will have to be made stronger and you can do it.

You are going to lose people in your life and no matter who it is, it is going to hurt. Losing people to death is one of the hardest things to cope with in your life. You're heart doesn't heal from it completely. You bear that scar for the rest of your life and while the scar sometimes stops throbbing, it is always there for YOU to see.

You are going to lose friends and significant others. They are going to come into your life and then leave. It may be a relationship or a friendship. There is a reason for everyone you let into your life and never be afraid of letting others in because your heart will always grow large enough to love them all. But be careful. There are always going to be users in the world that are not happy unless you are unhappy. Don't let them steal your sunshine or your thunder. It is okay to hold friend's accountable. At the same time you need to be a good friend. Being a good friend is hard sometimes because you may have to say or do something that is unpopular but that's okay. Staying true is what guides you and is what a healthy friendship/relationship is all about.

When your relationships end, and there are going to be some, you may experience anger. You may have been done so very wrong. Your heart is going to hurt. Your brain is going to have you confused and your emotions are going to veer into the hatred zone. When you find yourself being pulled down with hatred, I want you to stop. You don't have to hate anyone. If that person ended your relationship through whatever deeds or words, that is on them. NOT YOU. You can only control your own actions. Hate is a wasteful emotion and it makes us unbalanced. Let the anger and hate go.

And we come to the advice portion of this letter. I'm your mom and I'm now beginning the process of being your friend. And I'll never stop. I also won't lie to you to spare you being upset with me when I want to tell you something honestly. Please know that I come from a good place and may have experience in that area that you have not gained. There are also going to be many times when you do not want my advice, my advice isn't needed and times when I don't understand the situation and the advice isn't helpful.

I'll always be your ear though. I'll be here to listen as you work out problems on your own. I'll be with you in spirit no matter where you go in life and will always try to be there physically when you need me most. When you go on to creating your own family, I will still always be your Mother and will always want a part of your life.

You each have so much ahead of you and will be going places, doing things and learning things that I have not. With you lies the very best of me and sometimes the worst. How you live your life is going to be up to you. Lead the way for others and always be a light that shines through the darkest times.

Love,

Your Mother.

Farewell to 2016!

What a year! What a freaking year! 2016 will go down as one of the most memorable years for many people, myself included.

Surprisingly the one event I thought would wreck me was turning 40, and it passed okay. Up to the day I was pretty bummed out but once it was here, and I quietly accepted it, it wasn't so bad. In fact I'm happy with 40. I will admit that it still hits me that I'm this old but I realized that I'm so much better now than 39. Each year I think I get better. I feel more seasoned and I unlock more secrets to life that keep me sane.

I'm also at peace with myself. I took a look back over the years, and while there are lots of regrets, I've accepted that it is time to move forward and learn from those mistakes. They still pop up in my mind but I'm okay with them. I can't change them but I can let them rest.

This year has been in turmoil and I've never seen a country so divided. Yes, there are more episodes in history that are far, far greater but this is the first time in my life. I witnessed many historical events from the safety of my couch. I am witnessing a country so divided that we can not even have calm, rational debates. I am witnessing more acts of violence, racism, sexism and division and I don't know how they started or how to overcome them. I am seeing a lot of ugliness over an important election and feel so polarized that it is hard to see things from a different perspective.

What I am frightened most over is a loss of respect. People being hateful and attacking others simply based on political party affiliations. Most elections in the past, at least for me, was a vigorous debate and then acceptance with whomever lost and the knowledge that the couldn't fuck it up too badly. That changed this year when I realized a candidate embraced almost every single trait and running platform that I could not even be reasonable in my dislike over. A man so stupid that he has already broken most of his promises to his own followers and is choosing his advisers that are unfit for the job...may be unfit for any job on the planet that involves the livelihood of anyone.

This was not a good health year. In January I was diagnosed with IIH (Idiopathic Intercranial Hypertension), or also known as Pseudotumor Cerebri. I thought it was typical migraine and vision disturbances. In fact the only way I learned this was through a routine eye examination late December 2015. They thought they saw a mass on my optic nerve. I found out that I had lost a portion of my vision. It was scary and since then I have battled numerous neurologists and optic nerve specialists. It wore me down and I wanted to give up at times. Now I have a new neurologist and neurosurgeon who believe in treatment. Next Wednesday, December 28th I'll have surgery. The neurosurgeon will be putting in a shunt through my skull into my brain, threading it down through to my ear where a device to monitor pressure will be installed (makes it sound like a car stereo ha!) and then tunneling down into my abdominal cavity. I realized yesterday that I didn't ask what the aftereffects will be and how my recovery time will be affected. Guess I need to do that.

In January (the 10th) I'll be under the knife once again but on the opposite end. :) It's a much needed surgery and one that can happen. So far it is slated to be a simple surgery but it might wind up being a little more in-depth.

I reached out to old friends because I was worried about them. Will we continue talking and maybe eventually become comfortable with each other and build a new friendship...I don't know. But I had to reach out. There was something missing in my life and I had to try. Will it happen? I don't know. Will it be easy? Probably not. Will it take time? Absolutely. And if it is not able to happen then there will not be any hard feelings. I love this person enough to respect her decision but also know that we are two individuals that have a stubborn streak a mile long and I know, for myself at least, that I'm a baby out with the bathtub kind of person. But I miss this person and I miss her insights and her support. I miss being a part of something dynamic but also know that venturing forward, if it happens, will be something entirely different. To quote a song: Que Sera Sera

I reached out to another friend and started talking with her again. I had stopped talking with her after a big bruhaha involving parents. And I missed her crazy ass. She is definitely interesting and I wanted to be a part of that craziness again. She is another past friend that pushed me to finishing things and supported me.

What a year! It's been a tough one but I've never wanted to see a year in the rear view mirror quite as badly as this one. Let's hope that 2017 is far better!

Oh...and my mom remarried. Weird being 40 and gaining a step-father. I see how kids have it when there is a new love involving a parent.

So let's toast and ring in the next 365 days. Hopefully it cannot be worse!

Later Kats and Kittens

This Little Thing Called Life

It has been a while my Kats and Kittens. I've been working on my other blog Every Day Beauty - Be the Beauty in the Mirror. If you haven't seen it, check it out.

This is the type of article that is not for that one though.

A year or so ago I reached out to a former friend to find resolution to ending our friendship abruptly. I had walked away almost 6 months or so ago prior, putting myself first. Then after a lot of  internal strife, I reached out to explain why and to let myself get closure.

The conversation was civil, I had no intention of delving back in, and we parted ways. It was cathartic.

When it comes to ending things, I tend to ghost. I check out before thoughtfully reaching out and reviewing my choice logically and without emotion factoring in and let me tell you, that is the hardest thing anyone can do. We, as a species, rely on emotion to color a situation. Some use it wisely and some not so wisely.

The ending of that friendship was devastating to me in ways I did not see at the time but have come home since. I can't count the number of times I have had something arise and my first instinct was to talk to her. But I knew that would never happen. It still surprised in each time it did.

I sometimes wonder how she is and I realize where we both took wrong turns. I think about our plans to retire on the beach together with all of our pets. When I see anything Steel Magnolia, I'm reminded that I had always planned on being Weezer.

This sounds incredibly maudlin, doesn't it? It shouldn't be because this is fond remembrance. We had many, many talks that lasted hours. We were always just a text away. And then distance, ego and sheer hardheadedness popped up.

So why, now, am I posting this?

To tell you how a decision that seemed so "right" at that time is not always the "right" thing to do. Sometimes emotion needs to be addressed and compromises given. That comes from the Leadership course I have been taking through University of Michigan. It has opened up my eyes to many things a leader should do.

A leader has to be impartial but also vested. A leader needs to know her reservation price and the BATNA (Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement) and what should be revealed and what should not. You have to know how to bring people together to achieve greatness both within the group and within yourself.

Just plug in friendship to all of the "leader" pronouns.

In the end, and what I hope you take from this is that nothing is as it seems. You have to be patient, logical but also allow yourself room for negotiation. Life is all about negotiation. A year ago I knew that I could never resume, and renew, that friendship. Today I know that while it couldn't be renewed, it could be started over. There doesn't always need to be an ending. Maybe it was a pause. Maybe the  issue was stuck and it needed to be turned off and then back on. I don't know. All I do know is that there will always be times I want to tell her something and then pause and frown and then go on.

We would have had an anniversary this year. 12 years of almost daily communication. Happy Cingular Day to you Kat, and I'm always just a phone, text or email away.

This is 40?

This is 40?

Technically I have 1 day to go but who’s counting right? Heaven knows I’m not. It’s not like it isn’t like it is 17 hours and 54 minutes. 40 is just a number. It’s just a number.

Why do people say that? 18 was just a number but we celebrate it. It is the entrance into adulthood. You get to vote. You become responsible for your own actions legally. 21 is just a number but it’s the number on your license that allows you into bars and allows you to purchase those taste libations that make the end of the day so much sweeter.

When you look down at the scale and see your weight, those are just numbers, right? Yet society places a huge (ignore the pun) emphasis on that number. In fact your worth as a person can blindly be judged by that number.

How many sexual partners you’ve acquired over the years is just a number. The number of marriages/divorces and relationships are all just numbers. The numbers of offspring are all just numbers but society keeps track. And all of them are held accountable and we are measured against them. Yet when a woman bemoans turning 40, everyone says, “It’s just a number.”

I had to handwrite this blog out first yesterday because I have to limit the time I stare at a computer screen. My eyesight sucks and it hurts. IIH is definitely taking a toll on my body. It’s rare and as such you have to be your own advocate and educate doctors who may not know about the disorder. I absolutely hate that it has slowed me down. It’s a pain in the ass. Not literally, because the pain is behind the eyes and in my head. Ha! I kill me.

Life throws a lot of curve ball and at times it seems as if I’ve left my bat in the dugout. I get tagged over and over. I’m not going to lie. In recent months I’ve gotten low. Really low. Probably lower than I have ever been and that old familiar demon has reared its ugly head and drags me under. Each day it is a struggle to break the surface and paste on a smile. I find myself cocooned in solitude and I have no one but that insidious being. The people I want and need the most are thousands of miles away and I reach for the phone but stop because I feel like a burden.

That’s how depression drowns people. The anxiety side makes you fearful of reaching out. You worry about EVERYTHING. No matter how inconsequential it might seem to someone else, anxiety blows it up. The absolute worst thing to say someone with anxiety would be, “Calm down, it is no big deal.” It is always a big deal. Every hushed conversation is about us and it is always negative. Every shut door is about us and it is about how bad we are at something.

But c’est la vie. That is life. Que sera sera.  At the end of the day we all have our own demons. We are all fighting our own battles. All we have is our wits and each other to cling to and support.

So as that clock ticks closer to 40 I’ll have moments of despair where I evaluate my position on the field of life. I’ll take stock of everything I’ve been through and where the next 50 years will take me and at the end of the day I can say this with all certainty. I love myself much more now than I did at 18, 21 or even 30.

I like who I am. I have a lot of scars, inside and outside, that tell stories of what I have been through. All the lessons I’ve learned over 40 years reside within me and some have actually stuck and I have remembered them so as to not repeat them. I’m kind. I’m funny. I’m very empathetic. I’m smart and witty. I’m beautiful inside and out.

Yeah that number on the scale needs to creep downward alongside with the number on the tape measure around my waist but it, like my mind, is always a work in progress.

The number of friends in my life may be less this year but the ones in it are the ones that I know are meant to be. They are the ones that have been there through thick and thin and are worth their weight in gold. So welcome 40. Let’s see what adventures await us!

Love, Life and Losing a pet: Professor Chaos

UPDATE 10/1/2015


Last night we had to make the very hard decision to let Chaos go peacefully. I came home from work and it was very obvious that the disease had progressed extremely rapidly. The neurological signs were present. She wasn't in pain but she was not herself. Making that decision wasn't for us...it was for her. We were with her until the end. I will always love her.


Last night I had a dream that brought incredible comfort to me. I was there in the vet's office crying over her. She was ragged and thin. My dad appeared above me. He was the fat, happy Stan the Man dressed in his overalls with a red t-shirt. He had a toothpick in his mouth. He said, "Red...you know I don't usually do cats. But I'll take good care of her for ya."
He reached down and picked her up. As he did, she changed from the sickly kitty into the ferocious, bitchy Chaos who ruled our lives.
Then they were walking down the gravel road off at the house back home. Leroy and Jack were on his left jumping and prancing to his left and she was on his right just prancing. She looked back with that saucy grin. Her coat was thick and full. She was all filled out. Dad did the Stan wave and they went off.
My heart filled with joy and I slept. I'm still sad and lonely but I know he's got her.

Professor Chaos –

I am going to admit, first and foremost, that there is no way I’m going to get through writing this without a bare minimum of twelve tissues. I’ve been a crying wreck since yesterday. An absolute crying disaster because I do not cry prettily, I’m not a dainty sniffler. I’m not a dew eyed waif gently dabbing at the corner of her eye as she sighs. No, I’m a wracking sobber who blows out gobs of snot and has red eyes swollen shut. I blast my emotions on high volume normally and with grief I ratchet that bitch up to a 100.

Professor Chaos is dying. Okay you melodramatic asses, everyone is dying and we have been doing so since we first drew breath from our mother’s womb. I mean she is dying of a disease. She was diagnosed yesterday with Feline Infectious Peritonitis. It’s a coronary virus that is surprisingly common but is not commonly active. There are two forms, wet and dry. Wet has a shelf life of about 3-5 days when it becomes “active” because it involves an effusion of fluid in the abdomen and chest cavity. Essentially the cat cannot breathe and smothers.

In the dry form the cat has a host of other symptoms and will eventually develop the wet form or will develop neurologic problems. It can take time though. Once diagnosed, the disease may progress between weeks or it may take a year since the symptoms are quite vague. The waiting game is horrible.

I hate the waiting game. I hate that I love this cat so much. I hate that I have to be the one to force food down her every night and that she looks at me as the bad guy for forcing medicine into her. I don’t get to be the cuddle one. I have to clean her face up from the nutritional paste and try not to think about how much I’m going to miss her.

I want to delete every single picture of her and pretend that I hate her. I want to look at my bank account and get mad at all the vet bills and think about how expensive all these treatments and visits are and how it is impacting our lives. I want to hate her. I want her to turn up her nose at me and go to Dave for petting. I don’t want to see how cute she is and I don’t want to feel how much my heart breaks at the thought of her not being on my bed acting like a little Arctic Fox pounding at her toy moving under the covers.

I want to banish every bit of light that kitty ever brought to my life. I want to forget that she is my first kitten that I loved. I hate that she is ripping me apart. I hate that a 6lb kitten has taken my heart and that when she dies, that piece is going to be gone. I hate that. I want to hate her and I can’t and that sucks.

Is this like losing a loved one? No it is not. Losing a pet is incredibly different. It is a different kind of pain. I can see people around me today at work looking at me with this look on their faces. A look that says, “What’s the big deal? It’s just a cat.” No. She is not JUST a cat. She is MY cat. Some people can be pet owners and have a pet. I’m not a pet owner. She is my family, just a furrier member of my family, so yeah…it is a big deal to me.

Will I recover from this? Yes, because that is what we do with life. But I have a long road ahead with lots of sadness. This illness can be brutal. It can be quick or it can be lengthy. All I can do is pray that she never suffers and that I can make sure she is taken care of and pampered.

I wish I could hate her. It would make this easier. But I don’t. I love this little kitty. I love that she is bitchy. I love that she never wakes up pretty. I love that she looks ratchet quite often. I love her. When she is gone I will continue to love her. I don’t know if I’ll ever have another cat. I can’t think of that right now because all of my love is focused on her. So I’ll continue to feed her every night. I’ll wash her face like a momma cat and I’ll give her medicines and bundle her up. And I’ll pray for a miracle.

 

Respect! R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Respect

 

Hello there kats and kittens it is me, your brave and fearless leader back to let you know that I am alive and well. Well and alive. The birthday month has been progressing quite nicely…okay…so not as nicely as I wished but you can’t have it all.

Today’s topic is Respect. It is one you should know all about if you are above the collective age of 18. I tend to not concentrate much time beneath that age simply due to the fact that it isn’t a very common trait to possess. As you age, you should wear respect like a badge of honor every single day. First the deodorant goes on and then you layer on the respect.

Simple.

 

But wait…you knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, now didn’t you? Respect is a tricky little beast. You give respect but do you get it in return?

My parents, especially my father, really impressed upon me, and my sisters, the fundamental right of respect being given to elders. I still keep that mantra close to my heart. I am not the type of person who insists that respect be earned first. That is simply not how it is done. Nothing pisses me off more than to hear some worthless curmudgeon and slattern insist that: You want my respect…gotta earn it. And I cannot even go into the depths of irritation when I see a teenager actively disrespecting others.

Forget that jazz. That is NOT how it goes. It works on the same premise as a smile. Don’t see a smile on someone else’s face? Then give them yours.

See how easy that was. Yep easy as pie.

But wait… it really doesn’t end there. No, for the bargain price of a few more minutes of your time I am going to let you in on something I have recently learned!

You have to command respect. And you have to do it far more often of people who should readily give it to you but far too often do not. Your friends, and or family, can often be the ones that respect you the least.

I get that the world is crazy and our time is spread thin. We all suffer from time constraints in some way. But I had to recently learn, the very hard way, that I was not being respected. At all. And it was by someone who I loved dearly. I still love her but I had to walk away from a friendship more than a decade long. I couldn’t allow myself to be treated so badly. I was investing time in a friendship that was not being returned and to be honest…it hadn’t been returned, or returned well, in  several years.

But I didn’t respect myself enough to walk away. I kept allowing excuses like: “I’m such a horrible friend”, or the popular, “I suck” to reel me back. It. HURT.

It hurt a LOT. I would call and there would be no return call. (I can call my insurance company and at least they return a call. )

I would text. And it would go days before a response. I am bothered by the no return call but it isn’t as bad as the not replying to a text! Come on…wtf…a text can be read or sent any time of the day!

So I sat down with myself, talked to my sister and realized that respect was missing from my life. Sasha brought up the fact that I, generally, take quite a long time before someone runs out of chances with me. And she is right. I tend to give people I like quite a lot of leeway. But I’m too old to keep doing that. Some things have to be nipped and not receiving respect is the big one that I am no longer ignoring.

I was not being respected and I was not respecting myself enough to walk away.

And so, with a heavy heart and an equally heavy soul, I walked away. I didn’t try one final outreach. I didn’t try one final text. I didn’t try one final message. I just walked away.

 It was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. It hurt.

And then I realized things really hadn’t changed much because I had been disrespected for so long that the silence meant nothing. Somewhere along the line I had become a last resort of sorts. I was only needed on this person’s time and never on mine. I would get the call and/or text when she needed to talk about something. The only time I was outreached OTHER than that was if she thought there was something wrong in my life like marital problems etc.

Do you know what the real problem was? Respect.

Ask me if I miss her. Yes.

Ask me if I want things back like they were. NO! I can’t and I won’t.

The excuses and the passive aggressive statements? Nah…I’m good.

Let me give YOU some advice. Respect yourself. Respect others. Treat your friends like they matter.

If someone takes the time to call you then you should CALL THEM BACK.

Do not be a douche bag and do NOT ever use the excuse, “I’m a horrible friend/person” because you know what? If you do that then it is a self fulfilling prophecy.

The moral of this story is to wear respect each and every day. Remember that politeness, charm and respect are all wonderful accessories that make you stand out among the crowd. Wear them proudly!

Free At Last

Media Justice

 

Hello my kats and kittens! It has once again been a while since I last posted a truly profound blog (and profound is just my way of thinking that I'm important to you and you view me with respect) about anything that flitters through my mind at that particular time. This post is a little bit different and it has weighed heavily on my mind for weeks. Please bear with me if I ramble.

It should come as no shocker that I am a fan of writing. I love it in any form. Meme’s, texts, emails, blogs and articles. It is a fantastic medium and a bastion of communication. However…I’m truly jaded by the media. In any form.

Let me explain and then I will get into the nitty gritty of our conversation. We are having a conversation, right? You with me? Good.

In my lifetime to date I have witnessed the death of true journalism. Journalism itself is a truly remarkable thing to read about and I have graciously provided you a link so you might peruse it yourself. The start of journalism, and the subsequent evolution into realism, was to create a medium of communicating facts, verifying these facts and using objective methods. The problem that revealed itself over time was that writers will always be biased in some form. It is human nature.

The problem I have with media today is the demise of any form of objectivity and the birth of “sensationalist journalism.” Wading through articles, even accredited news reports and not simply the fly by night websites, is that bias has completely overtaken journalism. If I were to point out one specific nature of these hostile takeovers is the use of adjectives, adverbs and pronouns.

So far in this blog I have intentionally used certain words to lead you towards a feeling. And that feeling, that I have hopefully accomplished, is that of a gloom cast over media.

You should know me by now so it should come as no real shock that I am targeting a few specific examples of truly biased media reporting that has made complicated situations even more difficult to have enough information and simple facts.

I’ve purposely steered clear of posting anything to do with the Ferguson case. It is a complicated, convoluted and twisted example of a situation where wording can change the entire light of a very divided issue.

I don’t know if Wilson acted in self defense. I don’t know if Brown was innocent of struggling or assaulting a police officer. As a thinking adult I should have an opinion about the case. When racial inequality, or a controversial death, issues are presented then you MUST find an opinion about at least some aspect of the case. It is imperative that you do because that is where we begin open dialogue to make positive changes to our society.

My problem with finding that middle ground so I can begin forming a cohesive opinion is that the adjectives, adverbs and pronouns thrown around by “journalists” are simply thrown in to make readers, listeners or watchers completely biased.

Let me provide you with an example:

The child was murdered in an unprovoked attack. The white police officer gunned down the  black teenager as he tried to comply with the officers demands.

Now let’s look at a different example:

Officer Wilson found himself in a life and death struggle as the suspect, after resisting arrest, reached into the officer’s vehicle in a bid to grab the officer’s weapon.

See the power of wording? It dramatically changes how you and I react to the statements. The words are leading us towards a dramatically unbiased opinion. And that is my problem with the entire racially charged issues where a death has occurred.

I don’t know what happened during that struggle and the subsequent loss of a life. You don’t know it either because we were not there and there has been no article or televised discussion where it has not become a racially divided issue.

Sensationalist journalism has become the norm. Is the Ferguson case a racial case or is it an unprovoked attack (on either party)? It is both. It is a tragic affair that has people of all the colors of the rainbow finding facts that one color racially profiles and suppresses the rights of another color. And that is wrong on so many levels. When we keep labeling ourselves then we can’t identify with others of different identities. We, as a society, have largely lost empathy for others due to a lack of unbiased facts.

Look. I’ve seen so many statistics thrown up on social media, which I know is ironic since I am using social media as a platform for my own view, that twists and turns racially charged incidents and thoughts into a miasma of dividing based on skin color.

What saddens me the most in the current race wars is that we are not making changes in our way of thinking because we are being lead without really examining why we think the way we do. Yes. I know that there are people who claim to see right through the issue into the heart of the matter. But you don’t. I don’t. I want to truly think that as a rational adult I can view a situation without placing a “color” on it and thinking more as a humanitarian but I find myself grappling back into the labeling of a person.

“This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning, "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrims' pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."…” And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"”

 

That is one of the greatest speeches ever written. It is a speech of oppression that leads into the promise that through peaceful demonstration and education, all men (women) will one day be equal in the sights of others.

We can’t do that yet. But I have hope that we one day can throw aside the adjectives, adverbs and general labels that are attached to each and every one of us. Describing our physical looks to another isn’t racism. Racism is judging the character of a man without unbiased information. Racism is denying another person life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness through equality, empathy and understanding.

I’m not naïve. I know that there will always be a dividing line between individuals based on something. But you know what? I can hope. I can try to do my part by showing my daughters that we need to focus on facts and ignore sensationalism.

So I leave you, my dear friends, with my solution. Educate the next generation because we are already biased whether we want to believe it or not. We must force ourselves to leave that bias behind as we teach our children to look past skin color, income level, sex and religion. We must teach our children and future generations to look beyond the past and learn to ignore labeling so that true equality can be gained. We must find some way to set aside our differences so we can become a society of uniqueness and empathy for all humankind. Then we can cry out, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty (or whatever you believe in), we are free at last!”

Masks, Monkeys and Throwing a Frake

For the first time in my life I’m struggling to write what I am feeling. This is the fifth time I have started to write and it seems as if each version gets erased. I desperately want to let everything inside me out onto paper and yet…I falter. I read the words and it isn’t what I want to say. So let’s try again.

Life has walloped me lately. It has not been anything big. But it is a lot of little things that have just added up and I crashed this week. I crashed hard.

Let’s take it back a few steps. By now you know that I’m pretty much an open book. It is just how I have to operate. I spent a large portion of my life hiding behind masks and I had to learn how to live without them because they were killing me. They were smothering anything that was ME behind a façade that was not me. I had a smile on my face and a crack running straight down through me. So now I have to be an open book. It works for me. I am very transparent. If I’m upset then you definitely know it. But I try my best to be happy and positive. For the last 10 months that has been my focus in life. Some days are more successful than others.

Fall is a difficult time of year for me. I’m coming up on the anniversary of my dad’s death and sometimes I feel guilty. For the first year I thought of him every single day without fail. And then I started to have days when I didn’t think of him and cry. I remembered things that made me smile. I have never stopped missing him. I’ve never stopped wanting to hear him call me “Red” but some days pass and I haven’t thought about him. And then I feel guilty. But the truth is that life goes on. It moves on. If we continue to dwell on the hard things then our life becomes hard. We stop growing. We stop living. The day we stop reaching for the next is the day that we just stop.

I have been very conflicted for a few weeks. I have so many things happening that at times I feel lost. I have a teenage daughter that spends more time screaming at me than she does anything else. My home has become a battle ground. I don’t know how to communicate with her. I print out therapist advice on communicating and being an enforcer but it never lasts. It is just one series of battles to the next. I can’t seem to win. I’m not being melodramatic. When your daughter is counting down the months until she can leave…it isn’t good. I cry because I can’t give her everything she wants monetarily. I cry because no matter what I do, I can’t teach her empathy for others. I can’t communicate that she MUST learn the difference between a NEED and a WANT. When we argue she blames me for bringing her to West Linn because it is West Linn that is demanding that she have everything all of her friends have.

I apologize to her for not being able to give her a new car. I apologize to her because I can’t just hand her concert tickets whenever she wants them. I apologize to her because I can’t buy her a brand new laptop simply because she thinks the other laptop is too big. And so when the screaming starts…I become a person I do not like. I yell back. I get tired and cave because I’m tired of the fighting.

No one ever told me that teens can be this way. And ultimately at the end of the day I blame myself. Somewhere along the way I pushed too hard or I didn’t guide her enough. Somewhere along the way she learned how to put up masks. That is what hurts me the most. She wears masks to hide the things that hurt her. A bright smile hides frustration, pain, and unhappiness.

See…that is what happens to us. We put up masks. It took me more than twenty years to learn how to get rid of my masks. How long will it take her?

So besides difficult teens, mourning, frustration at work, and a missing husband, I am also learning how to deal with a mom that is dating.

I kinda feel like a forgotten teen. She doesn’t call. She doesn’t write. She doesn’t text. Ugg…what am I going to do with her? I’m still dealing with those feelings regarding her moving forward with her life. Obviously I love her and I support her decision but I’m anxious. I don’t quite know how to talk about it because it is entirely new ground. I honestly feel like a teen dealing with separation anxiety and worrying that I’ll be lost in the shuffle of someone new.

Realistically I know that my mother loves me but she needs a new direction in her life. She can’t mourn forever and still be healthy. Life does go on. It is hard. It can be difficult but in the end you have to keep reaching forward. I think, with time, my conflicted feelings and general weirdness of the situation will mellow out. For as OCD as I am about rules and putting people into specific boxes with guidelines, I know that in the end I’ll just shrug and throw a Frake because it comes down to one very real thing: not my circus. Not my monkey.

That phrase has guided me intensely over the past 6 months and has given me some distance from problems that would have previously had me in a complete meltdown. I’ve forgotten it in the last three weeks but I am going to start writing it down on my hand until it becomes habit again. I really must because if I don’t then I’ll go insane. Way too much on the plate for me to take anything else on.

Boss being a dick? NMC.NMM (Not My Circus. Not My Monkey)

Other people throwing shit my way or throwing me under the bus? NMC.NMM. Okay wait…gotta take that one back because technically it is my circus but I’m not gonna let it get to me. In this circumstance I’m throwing a Frake.

OH? You want to know what “throwing a Frake” means? Picture it. You standing (or sitting, whatever floats your boat) and making that universal rolling the dice motion with your hand. Then you gloriously release it to the sky in an upward swoop! You might also think of the motion as a “catch and release” if ya get what I’m sayin…wink…wink…nudge…nudge. Ya know, pri-vat-e time with the one eyed monster.

Now apply the NMC.NMM throwing a Frake. It is the PERFECT hand accoutrement for the saying. When you can’t say it out loud then you can always throw the Frake.

I’ll get through this rough patch. I’ll guilt trip my mother into calling me more, or at least calling me back because now she will read this and feel guilty. (Yes mom…you should) but she’ll know that I love her. The Kennedy situation will resolve itself eventually. It may take 15 years but eventually we will be able to communicate effectively. I’ll have the surgery that I’ve avoided for months. It’s either that or eventually lose more and more muscle control. It will turn out just fine. Work will get better even if it means me having a “come to Jesus” meeting one on one with some folks. Or I’ll just throw a Frake and say “Fuck a duck” grab my sweet raspberry vodka and sit watching the rain. Win, Win either way.

Opinions are like...

Opinions are like….

Hello Kats and Kittens!

So I’ve been tumbling around some thoughts in my head lately about a few social issues, as well as some personal ones. I haven’t blogged in a while but at least I have gone back to editing Synergy and writing more on the 2^nd. But that is enough of that.

 

Strangely it was a song that has me thinking. It is “Rude” by Magic. Here is the link to the lyrics. I’m reasonably certain that at least three or four of you have heard it on the radio. http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/magic/rude.html

I get what the song is saying. It is about a man asking a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Noble and romantic right? Yeah. I get that. But if you sit and listen to the song a second time, without the romanticized notion that two young lovers want to be united in matrimony, you come to see a different aspect. And one, believe it or not, that is at the root of many social issues I currently have. The young man asks the father for his hand in marriage.

But the father says, “ You say I'll never get your blessing 'til the day I die
Tough luck, my friend, but the answer is 'No'”

The singer/writer comes back with:

“Why you gotta be so rude?
Don't you know I'm human too?
Why you gotta be so rude?
I'm gonna marry her anyway”

“Why you gotta be so rude?”

That, my dear kats and kittens, is where the song takes a southward turn for me and really becomes a marking point of things that have recently begun to bug the ever living shit out of me. The father says “No.” and yes, it is a bit harsh. Granted the listener (or reader) does not know the background between the father and the lover. We don’t have to know it. Here is what I fucking hate and is pretty prevalent in our society right now. If we say “No” to someone, or disagree with someone, then suddenly we are either: haters, rude, ignorant, -ist (as in racist, sexist etc.) or we are marked a liberal or conservative. STOP FRACKING LABELING PEOPLE WHO DISAGREE WITH YOU!

Now I shall take a deep and explain. I first heard the “you are being rude” and “stop bullying me” from my daughters. I’m quite positive they are just splattering out things they have heard and have not stopped to realize the meaning of the statements. Or I’m wrong and they do but just do not want to use them in the correct manner.

Let’s take another look at the song for a moment. The boy (because a grown up would not throw a hissy fit but I’m giving absent credit where no one is due any) thinks the father saying, “No” is rude. Why isn’t it just being truthful? OH I get it now. It’s to sell a song and make you feel like the father is being a ripe, old bastard. He’s standing in the way of true love. Ummm yep. Now in my family, our dad was greatly respected and taught all of his girls to respect others. Even when they do not deserve any respect. (Yeah it does kinda suck at times but stiff upper lip and all that jazz.)

Why is the simple fact of saying no to someone make them rude? Let’s put that in another context.

“Can I have a million dollars?”

“Uh I’m going with a no on that one. Earn it yourself. Ain’t no freebies in life.”

“Why do you have to be that way? Why are you being so rude? You could have just said “no” and been done with it.” (No, the person would not have been done with it. You see…they wanted a million dollars and it stings to be told NO. So the person is “rude” for telling them no.

I’ve often found that a simple “no” is truly not simple in any regards. People want an explanation of being denied. This is the point of many conversations where it becomes an argument. And enter in my next phrase that is wholly being used to death.

“Why are you bullying me?”

I abhor bullying in any way, shape, form or fashion. The definition of bullying is: use superior strength or influence to intimidate (someone), typically to force him or her to do what one wants.


 


No. The person is not bullying. There is no forcing. No intimidation. No use of strength. No. NO. NOOOONOOO.


 


Here is what all of the above boil down too: disagreeing with someone, saying ‘NO’, not liking someone else’s lifestyle, or having a difference of opinion does not necessarily come down to a label.


 


I simply hate labels. There. I said it. Anyone that knows me also knows I am a huge supporter of the LGBT community. I believe in equality for all and rights for all. But far too often lately I’m seeing reverse equality. A person states they do not agree with a lifestyle and suddenly they are bigots, haters or ignorant. Or they are conservative thinking drones. (Which is an oxymoron by the way.)


 


I am a believer in Freedom of Speech. I truly am. But, as I am learning, that does not mean Freedom from Reprisal or Consequence. But we, as a society in the whole, have missed the bulletin that states “Just because a person disagrees with something does not make them a: liberal, conservative, racist, feminist, nudist, bigot, idiot, genius etc. Just add and –ism or an –ist and it covers the gamut.


 


We have to stop. When can we get to the point where a disagreement, an opinion or a different set of beliefs can be met with, “Eh. I get what you are saying but I disagree.” No name calling. No labeling. Let’s clear some of the popular ones up. Okay?


 


*Belief in God and religion: does not make you an idiot, a sheep, or a zealot. You just believe in something different.


*Saying no to making a cake for a homosexual couple does not mean you hate them. You just believe in something different.


*Marching in protest for equality in marriage: does not make you a liberal, a radical or a heretic.


*Being against illegal immigrants: does not make you a bad person, a bully, a right wing conservative or have a case of feeling superior and immigrant-ist (okay I made that one up.)


*Saying no does not mean: you hate the person, you are a bully or an –ist. Or that you are being rude!


*Not liking a person does not mean you want to bully them. It does not mean anything. Disliking someone is a personal choice and should have nothing to do with how you feel. If someone doesn’t like me (and I admit sometimes I get anxious about this) it is their choice. It is not mine.


 


As I was driving into work this morning, and as I typically do, I had a speech going on in my head. There are 3 main camps for every opinion. 1) Yay! I like this. 2) Boo. I hate this. 3) I’m ambivalent either way.


I wish it were this easy. I truly do. But it is not. Especially online because after any one of the first two responses you will get name calling and pigeon holing. After the third you will be lazy or misinformed upon which both camps will continue to explain it to you and why you should take a stance. Even worse are the people who keep on saying the same thing. I just want to yell, “Listen…just because I don’t fecking agree with you does not mean that I don’t understand it.”


 


Here is essentially what I’m writing about all boiled down to a few sentences (or at least that is my hope.)

• Don’t like something? Don’t do it.
• Is it harming you? No? Then shut up about it unless you are asked for your opinion
• If you give your opinion then expect others to do the same. The secret to peace within is to understand that if something is true to you then the opposite of that is true as well. (Meaning that the other person believes in their own opinion.)
• Someone telling you “NO” does not: make them rude, that they are bullying you, that they deserve any label (liberal, sexist etc.). It is just a difference of opinion. Sure there are qualifiers such as being in a life/death situation.
• You are not entitled to a detailed explanation on a “NO.” It is just No and most times you just get that much. Don’t go around whining or bitching. If you do want to speak logically and address the NO in a polite manner then by all means, go for it. Just remember that you are not entitled to a reason.

 


I’d normally at this point end on a humorous note, or whatever. Instead I’m going to end it this way:


 


Don’t be a dick. Treat others with respect and you will soon find that respect comes your way. Be nice. Play nice.