Decisions

     I have been exceedingly busy, with school and work and friends and plans and hopes and dreams and nightmares and reality and endings and beginnings and decisions new to my mind and decisions a long time coming. All in all, its been a busy summer and fall, and now winter is here, and my life has changed in so many ways since the spring and yet it remains the same in many ways too.

     I read a book for one of my book clubs, entitled What Alice Forgot. It really spoke to me in a way most books don't. I won't spoil the whole storyline by detailing it, but it addressed what happens when someone loses 10 years of memory, and has to come to terms with who they have become in the intervening years without the benefit of remembering what inciting events led to the changes that they've made.
   
     I also found myself relating to a certain character in the book that had fertility issues. She wanted a child so badly and couldn't have one and she was consumed by this. I don't have fertility issues. I do find myself in a position in my life where having a child is fast receding from my list of options. I'll be 34 this year. Not too late yet, but when I think of how haphazard my life is and how my finances sit on a shoestring and my house is in a constant state of renovation I don't even know how to begin to accomplish everything that I would need to do to be ready for a child, not to mention have a willing father on my hands.


     10 years ago however, I didn't want children; had zero desire for them. What has changed, besides the obvious sound of ticking from my internal baby oven? Maybe now I think I would actually be a good mother. Maybe now I think that I can manage to not repeat most of my own mothers mistakes with my own children. Maybe now I know that I have a heart big enough to love forever unconditionally. Maybe now I know that the wisdom I have I could pass on, and benefit someone else. Or maybe its just the clock ticking, and me being afraid that this big lifetime hurdle will soon be out of reach altogether.

     I can't be sure, because as long as my situation remains unsuitable to add a baby to the mix, its not even an option. And maybe deep down that's the obstacle. I want to be stable enough financially and relationship wise, for a baby decision to at least be viable. Because right now, I'm comparable to the infertile woman in that I CAN'T have a baby. It's painful to me, though I definitely admit that it's worse for someone who has the physical difficulty. I cannot even comprehend that pain, and I don't mean to downplay it at all. But I also CAN'T have a baby, I see no end in sight, no option for things to improve and for that to be an option. Adoption also is not an option for me because of the expense involved, and the lack of stability that surrounds me.

     My 10 years ago self would be proud of me that I hadn't had a baby. She'd be pleased that I was careful and didn't get struck down by a 'surprise' that keeps on surprising you every day for the rest of your life. She'd be thrilled that I was in school and making excellent grades. She'd see my house and love it and see every bare wooden floor and scuffed up wall as an exciting challenge. I'm not 24 anymore. This house overwhelms me in its bleakness and need for repair, and the days I'm not overwhelmed by it I don't have enough money to get to work on it anyway.

     So where am I going with all this? I'm not sure, I lost my train of thought somewhere back a paragraph or two ago. All I know that is my life is great, school is great, my friends are great, but there is still something unsettling in this place inside me that takes personal inventory periodically. Perhaps its feeling that nobody really gets me. I often feel like an outsider. I could've had my baby right now. I could have a very different life. Would I feel like an outsider even with my own child I wonder. Perhaps so. The best I can do is keep trudging along and trying to keep my head above water, and hope for a change in the wind.

Time Off

I had 10 days off work. I got to travel a little, reconnect with old friends and meet new ones, (Love ya Ana and Ben). But its Saturday. Monday starts my rigorous work, school, home improvement, gym schedule. And I am pumped and ready to go. I did much more this time off than I have in years. For once, at the end of time off work, I don't feel depressed and alone and let down. AND!! I already have almost $200 squirreled away for December's vacation week. Who knows where I may end up then???? Work, I have missed you and am ready to go back. School, I am excited and ready to learn and study and read and just be a dork in general. House, bring it on!! One floor down, 2 more to go!!!!! Gym....... For this I need a motivational speech by Tony Robbins, but I'll got there. Days are happy, nights are content, and life is good.

5 Guys Burgers

   All I wanted was a burger. Admittedly, it was a burger I didn’t need and money that could have been better spent. But I wanted it, so there it was. I’d worked all day; I’d sat for 2 hours in algebra class, I wanted, no, NEEDED a burger. So I went for it. From 5 Guys Burgers and Fries, of course the best burger place ever. I thought when I pulled up that I really wish they’d get a drive through window, but stuck with my decision and went inside. And my day changed.

   Behind the counter was a familiar face, a face from my past, a face from a not-so-good part of my past. Not an ex-boyfriend, but something that wrenched my soul even deeper. A face from 18 years ago; a face I never ever expected to see again and could never have even guessed how I would react to. My reaction; I burst into tears. Yes, at the counter of the 5 Guys Burgers and Fries joint, I cried like I’d just lost a loved one. Because, honestly, that’s exactly how my heart felt in that instant.

   The face behind the counter, that face I had never imagined seeing again, was the face of my older brother’s best friend. That statement makes my reaction seem overly dramatic, except for the fact that my older brother, Kevin, killed himself nearly 20 years ago. I still cry regularly, missing my brother, hating that he’s missing my life, hating he missed out on his, having so much to tell him and knowing if he was still here he’d know more than me so I wouldn’t have to tell him anything.

   It amazes me that even with a lapse of 19 years I so easily recognized Kevin’s friend, John. Years go by, we all get older, we all get wiser, and I am glad I had the chance to see him and interact with him as an adult, with my own thoughts and opinions. The honest truth, I love this man. Even though I never really knew him except as my Brother’s friend; because he was a big part of Kevin’s life, and looking at his life now I can imagine what Kevin’s life could’ve been like by now.

   John has an amazing family that he is so obviously proud of and I enjoy looking at his family photos, thanks to facebook for making that possible. There’s a part of me that wants to ask him every question I can possibly think of about Kevin, what he was like, what happened. But mostly, I just want to get to know him. As an adult, on my own, getting to have someone else in my life that cared for Kevin as I did, and who is willing to talk about him.

   Kevin’s life, and death, is a taboo subject in my family. For some because it’s so hurtful, for some because they feel guilty, a few just have a problem facing reality. My mother twists and turns the story and makes up random reasons and then believes her own explanations. John talked more openly, honestly, and feelingly about Kevin in a 15 minute conversation than I have ever heard from any of my family. I want more of that. I want a friendship with this person. Not based on the past; but based on who we are now, as adults. Here’s to John, who made me cry while making my day.

I'm not worried about me

But my little house of cards is swaying in the breeze of life.

Two-Face

Hide inside this flimsy shell

       in the dark I know so well

Listen as the laughter starts 

      despite the smell of broken hearts

Close my eyes and count to three,

      open and hope I’ll never see

Pain and loss and fear abound 

      bouncing off the laughter sound. 

In my corner bleak and dim 

      trying not to think of him

Meet his eyes, they pierce my soul 

      as I strain to keep control

Might be smiling, I’m not sure,

      lost in striving to endure

My body smiles on and I fit in;

      my soul fights what it can’t win

In this place of broken dreams 

      nothing’s ever as it seems

For the First Time

    I am not sure.
   
    For the first time in a longish time I am uncertain and confused about what to do, which direction to turn.

    I kind of thought that something would work out, which now it appears it may not.
 
    I kind of thought school would go smoothly and I'd accomplish my career goals easily,. now it appears that may be harder than I imagined.

    My major is up in the air, my finances are stable currently but are also up in the air. My plans are far from definite. My options are thin in tech direction yet attainable, and numerous in USC direction but possibly financially out of my reach.

    But, one thing I have noticed.

    I never think anymore that I can't do something because of the time it would take. School for years no longer scares me. My age no longer scares me. The thought of not being ready for my next phase of life by the time my current awesome boss retires no longer scares me. I finally feel invincible in a way I never have. I may be single and stay single for the rest of my life, but the thought of being in school for years and years working for a difficult degree that I may not complete until I'm in my mid-forties doesn't seem like a waste of energy to me. Because after all, mid-forties?? I could have 40 more years after that, I could have 55 more years if I live as long as my Mother's side of the family does. Being a Psychologist at age 45?? What could beat that feeling....

    For the first time ever......I feel like I can do anything I want to do.

Personal Space

   You leaned in close to me, brushing lint that only you can see from the curve of my dark eyelashes.

   I can see the opaqueness of your eyes, feel the warmth of your breath as you concentrate on your gentleness for a change. The smoky scent of your breath doesn't make me wince as it would have once upon a time, instead it brings up into my heart a memory of us together, when our ragged breaths were the only things that were between us. I lose myself in the glass of your light colored eyes, and you accomplish your task and look into mine.

   For a moment we are locked in each others gaze, everything else forgotten, everything that made us no longer an us a thing of mist and shadows. I can feel the heat radiating off of your body, you are so close to me. Closer than you have been for months.

   I notice that you have lost weight, I notice that you are shorter than I remembered, I notice that you have more gray hairs and less hair in general, I notice that I can tell exactly how long you've been without shaving from the length of your whiskers, I notice that you're wearing a shirt I bought you a long time ago, and I notice that you are not drawing away from me.

  Finally you speak, and it is barely even the hint of a whisper, "You can't tell me that you don't still love me....".

   I give the only answer I can, the only words I can force from my worn out heart. "I never even tried to tell you that, all I ever said was that we were not right for each other."

   I break the gaze of memories and turn to walk away, and I can literally feel your dejection behind me, you'd reacted to a spark, as I had, and that spark was gone, a dead ember that for a moment tried to revive, but was squelched by the waters of common sense and experience.

   My entire soul aches, mourning the loss of something I never even had, but was the spawn of hope. There are no words, there are no feelings, there is no balm for this kind of wound. There is only wisdom, and time, and tears, and more hope. I could wish with every ounce of my soul for things to have been different, but they are not, because we are who we are. And we are not for each other. I continue to mourn, I continue to wish, I continue to love, but I refuse to continue to try, when I know where the road leads, and that place is not where I want to be.

Attitude

   I read on a poster today, (incidentally the poster is in the patient bathroom of my job, where I rarely have ever been, but I am drinking more and more water on this quest for health and beauty that I'm on so I found myself in there releasing said water), and the poster said, in part, "life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it."

   That sentence is burned in my mind right now, because it fits so well with all that I've been going through lately. It has been a rough week personally, and even I have been impressed with how I have handled it. Personal relationship upheavals, from multiple directions as some relationships that are all over including the shouting still insist on heaving out the occasional death rattle, and some aren't what they seem, and some are just plain confusing.

   I attempt to make sense of the madness that is now my life, and as long as I find something every day to make me smile, I manage to stay very happy. This isn't what I would have thought possible. Sometimes it's as if I can feel the particles that make up my life swarming around my ears, an unstoppable commotion that's more a tornado than a downward spiral. Everything isn't going "down the drain" as it were, but it's just always in chaos around my head, taking my breath away.

   But every day, I smile, I laugh, I tell jokes to make everybody else laugh and smile and be comfortable wherever they may find themselves. And I am not putting on an act, I am sincerely happy. Then I have a flash of something that has been circling my head, one of the causes of tumult in my life, and I have a flash of concern, or sadness, or a feeling of being overwhelmed, but this too passes, and the smiles come back in full force, and the life continues and it's a good life worth living.

When I Find You

When I find you, I will smile at the thought of coming home to you every day.

When I find you, if I have a bad day I don’t need anything but your ears listening.

When I find you, I will find myself somewhere inside of you already, as if a tiny part of me, implanted inside of you when we were born, has sat waiting for me to reclaim it.

When I find you, you will look into my eyes and sense what I am feeling.

When I find you, there will be no one else who can make me smile in quite the same way that you can.

When I find you, we will laugh at a lot of the same things, and the things that one of us doesn’t really think is funny, we will still laugh because our laughs will be contagious for each other.

When I find you, there will be no end to our meaningful conversations, and shared opinions, because yours will be the most important opinion I want to know, we will be halves of a whole, and learning about you will teach me about myself.

When I find you, life will be an adventure to be tackled, and obstacles will be a challenge for us to surmount, in good times or bad, life will be our instrument to play as we wish, even when we lose the tune we can still dance to our music.

When I find you, our floods of tears will become a beautiful waterfall, our tears will flow from the precipice of each other’s strength, into a pool of sadness that we can walk beside hand in hand and be grateful for the comfort, support and strength of each other.

When I find you, the joy of being together will be balanced with other joys, and when we are apart I feel invisible thread tying our hearts together for eternity.

When I find you, I will not dread retirement as a time of boredom and loneliness, even the simplest and most mundane of activities will be enjoyable as long as we are together.

When I find you, will I even realize that important fact at first?

Have I found you? Maybe I already have. 

Most days, I hope so.

Day of Love

  It's quiet. And dark. And I have been alone all day.

  Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, in all it's marketable over-rated glory. Last year, even though I'd been with the same guy for years, Valentine's day was just like any other day. And I'm easy to please. I don't require a lot of money spent on me, or large fluffy stuffed animals that will collect dust and eventually be a nightmare for my allergies. Flowers die and chocolates (as wonderful as they are) go straight to my belly. Something about Valentine's Day though, I think it's more valuable to those who don't have someone telling them daily that they are loved. That guy last year, not really the overly affectionate, I-Love-You type. Hand holding, rare. Hugs, rare. Kisses, rare. Pretty much everything that I need in a relationship- rare. So Valentine's Day was inflated beyond what it had been in my years of marriage when I had a guy who multiple times a day professed his undying love for me, and occasionally to this day years post-divorce still does.

  So here I am, knowing that Valentine's Day will be just like any other Monday for me, work till 5, school till 7:30, homework till I can't think anymore. And one second that realization seems extremely unimportant, and the next second it seems almost earth shattering in it's own dreariness.

  I know I am loved, and that I have many friends, male and female, who would do just about anything for me. And I also know when I wake up on Tuesday morning, it'll be just like any other Tuesday, But for tomorrow, the day of love, something deep in my gut will not be content nor satisfied until the day is over.

The Window

Yesterday I got to school early, I sat in my truck killing time for 15 minutes, but it was cold and rainy so I decided to kill time indoors instead. I grabbed my purse, bookbag, and jacket, stepped out of the truck, and as I was in the process of slamming the door my mind thought 'keys?' and as I watched the truck door slam with loud finality I had the sickening realization that my keys were still hanging from my ignition.

Lets go back a bit. For those of you who may never have given it much thought, I am a woman. This in no way explains or excuses me locking my keys in the truck however it does seem to happen to myself and never seems to happen to my male friends. Maybe it's just me.

On every other key-hostage situation I have managed to retrieve said keys without too much pain and suffering. In my old truck and car I became quite handy with the coat-hanger key retrieval. It seemed almost an automatic response, much like gagging on cough medicine, I'd hardly blink before my coat hanger was unfurled and my sleeves were rolled up and a few minutes and a few bruises later the window would be down 3 inches and I'd have the door unlocked. My 'new' truck, not happening. However, there is a fail safe.

There's a back window. You know the deal. The little square ones that don't really serve much purpose. Until the day I locked my keys in the truck the first time. It was a godsend. Especially since a previous hostile attack on it has left the latch broken, so it slides easily open and closed. Don't get excited people, I never keep valuables in my truck for this very reason! So, the first time, I had a coat hanger in the back of my truck, my shoulders were a tight squeeze but I made it, my hips stopped me forcibly before the keys were in reach, but handy-hanger reached the rest of the way. Problem solved. Till the next time.

You'd think I'd learn to keep a hanger in my vehicle at all times just in case a key rescue mission was called for, but alas! I do not think ahead. Thankfully the second time I had a thinner friend handy to slip into the truck completely and retrieve my keys! Problem solved!  Till the next time.

No hanger, but they have a useful tool at the Plex Indoor Sports center that nobody really seems to know what it does, a long rod with a hook on the end. Handy for key saving! Problem solved!.... Right? WRONG? I never learn.

So this time in front of school yesterday was the 4th time an undercover key rescue mission became necessary, but there were a couple of problems. I had no hanger. I had no thinner friend with me. And there was a truck parked directly behind mine  with a young man sitting in it looking directly at where my derriere would be in full view when I got myself stuck in that window. So I figured I should at least warn him.

I walked up, inquired politely if he had a hanger, and when he answered in the negative I did indeed warn him that I was going to attempt to climb through the back window of the truck and for him to please call 911 if I seemed panicked or remained motionless for longer than 90 seconds. I half hoped he would volunteer to be my thin friend, but I was sadly disappointed by that as well as the doubtful look he shot at my rear when I announced my plan. But I knew it had to at least be attempted. So I mustered my courage, stripped down to 1 shirt since we are in the season of layers and I dove in........

I made it. I didn't only make it to my keys, I made it THROUGH that tiny window. I didn't even have to get stuck and have a friendly hand push me through, I just made it plain and simple. I was relieved. I was proud. Above all, I hadn't embarrassed myself TOO much, even though I know that a picture of my behind going through that window wasn't what I'd want on my Christmas card this year. Thank god for the diet I've been on and off periodically, it's done something.

I don't know. I keep thinking of that old saying, "When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." But the Lord hadn't closed that car door, I had. And symbolically I believe my life has been the same way. I think I may have been closing a lot of doors before they were really ready to be closed, and walking into new situations before I'd really been closing the ones behind me. Like school. I'm 33 and just now going to school? Why didn't I do this years ago? How different my life would've been! I'd be in a different place, I'd know different people, I'd have more money, a totally different life.... But wait. I love my life. I love my friends. I love my job. I love my house and my pets and.....I'm starting to think that maybe god closed that door after all. Because this going back to school thing, it's great. It's wonderful. It's hard work but I enjoy it and I feel good about myself every night and every morning. I'm not sure I would've truly appreciated it as a young adult. And this place, here, now, where I am, with all my experiences and all my supportive friends and my wonderful job, I think all things considered this is where I'm supposed to be right now.

I crawled out of that truck feeling proud and jubilant, much like I rise from bed every morning. I couldn't help but share my joy with the young fella who I'm sure had been my reluctant audience. I said, "I did it! I expected these hips to stop me but I did it!"

His response has become my life's motto I think, because I want to do so much, accomplish so much, feel good about me and where I am and just be everything that I can possibly be and touch as many lives as I can along the way, but he hit the nail on the head. He answered "Yes and you looked good doing it too!"

Shank Carving Day

  Recently, all seriousness aside, I acted on my lifelong curiosity regarding the growing art of Shank carving. Too much Tru TV I’m sure contributed to this morbid curiosity. Especially considering the inane and seemingly harmless items used to make these horrifying instruments of death. Actually, on Tru TV it seemed people rarely died from their shank attacks, but that just fueled my ghoulish inquisitiveness .  I work in a dental office, and multiple times a day supply the #1 instrument of shank terror, the dreaded toothbrush, indiscriminately to young and old alike. Am I fueling a growing fire? Should I invent an uncarveable toothbrush to dispense to everyone 18 years of age and younger? How exactly does one carve a shank? All of these questions I felt deserved to be investigated.

  I started by choosing my favorite color toothbrush of course. Then I sent out an informal invite via facebook to see if I could perhaps create a shank carving event for other shank-curious individuals. There was much mockery, much surprise, a few cries of approval, but mostly silence.  It turns out even discussing carving a shank makes you top dog in the big house. Storing that info away in the ‘hope I never use this’ file.

  When I got home and properly researched shank carving procedure and etiquette, sharpening the toothbrush handle slowly and carefully against pretty much anything that will eventually wear and shape into as sharp an edge as possible. Well, they have nothing but time on their hands.  I on the other hand was celebrating shank carving day by myself and had to run errands that afternoon so I had to speed things along if possible. From there came the decision to use a box cutter to carve my shank. I was asked why I needed the shank if I had a box cutter handy.  Well, the experience was for educational purposes, not self defense.  If I’m ever in a knife fight, I would certainly trust that box cutter more than the shank I made, but I digress.

  I wasn’t aware but found out quickly that my boss in his infinite care for his patients and wisdom buys high quality toothbrushes. They actually have quite a thick cushion for maximum grip comfort when brushing, and maximum annoyance when shank carving. As you can see I had to totally remove this harmless, flexible strip from my toothbrush before it could even think about becoming a killing machine.  And even with the strip removed, it looked far from alarming. I had my work ‘cut out’ for me.

  The box cutter, as quite a sharp tool, was surprisingly inadequate at carving this hard plastic! I expected this to be easy. I mean, if a prisoner can sharpen a shank against a concrete wall for 6 months surely I should be able to take a box cutter to a toothbrush and create a work of art in less than 6 minutes, right? WRONG! Within 10 minutes my confidence was fading. Within 20 minutes my hands were sore. Within 30 minutes I was wishing I never started and knew I’d never get quite the respectable dangerous shank I’d always wanted to create. It was somewhat of a disappointment.

  Then I poked myself in the palm, like so.

OUCH! I definitely couldn’t do oral surgery, or any type of surgery, with this shank. But it made me wince! My spirits lifted. I ripped up an old sock and yes even used a ponytail holder to attach it, because every shank needs a good grip.  I’m cleaning up the mess of tiny shards of hard plastic and feeling pretty good about my shank carving experience on the whole. All things considered though, I’d rather stay out of prison. I’d rather remain non-violent. I’d rather spend 6 months or 6 weeks or 6 days or 6 minutes working on worthwhile goals, instead of being a scared person, in a dark cell, spending all that time, energy, creative fancy, and most of all patience, on constructing a weapon.  I think that at the end of the day, I’ll listen to the advice of my toothbrush- “USE FUZZY END”.