You cannot make this stuff up.
Only Survivors know how true these quotes are.
Thank you for sharing!
Annie:
Survival has been tough lately. Dang. I’m losing the sense the it ever does get any easier. I’m making the choices that get us closer to where we want to be. But there’s some big one’s left to tackle. I’m running out of reserves. Jenny looked at me the other day and said, “Mom, hook up the iPod. You need a little ‘Toes’.” That’s our new favorite by the Zac Brown Band. She was right. I plugged it in and turned it up. Let’s pack it in and head to a sandy beach.
Underneath my laptop I have a magazine insert that advertises perfume. I usually yank them out and give them to Jenny. I kept this one because it reminds me of my long-distance friend. The heat from the laptop warms it a bit. Once in awhile I hit a keystroke and a little whiff of the scent comes at me. It’s almost like he’s standing right behind me. I wish I knew which keystroke was the magic one to warm up the scent.
The randomness is what makes it sweet.
__________
The kids and I are always talking about how something smells. I can remember Will at his third birthday. He was seriously into his sniffing phase. Each present he opened couldn’t be enjoyed until he’d thoroughly smelled it. He’s gotten a little more discreet about how he smells things.
Jenny often decides whether or not she likes someone based on their scent. Continue reading →
“Are you kidding? That’s for me? You guys made that for me? Were you thinking about me when you made that? Can I have it? Can I keep it? Can I hang it in my house? Won’t it look so nice in my house? I can’t believe you guys made that for me! You guys were thinking about me! That’s so cool! That’s really for me, right?”
Would you guess that Mark had been presented with the most exquisite gift ever given? Maybe an original painting? Maybe a handmade quilt? Maybe a one-of-a-kind piece of pottery? Maybe the Hope Diamond? Guess again. The kids gave him a few evergreen branches tied together with a Christmas ribbon. Will says, “Ah, yea, Dad. You can go ahead and hang that on your house.” Then Will turns to look at me with this expression on his face that says, “Get me outta here!”
Those exclamations are the sounds of feigned interest. That is the sound of a person faking enthusiasm for something they think they are supposed to get excited about. That is what it sounds like when you pretend to be interested in something your kids have done. Can you imagine having to pretend to be interested? Can you imagine not thinking that everything they create is some kind of gift, or an indication that they are destined for a life of greatness?
We’ve heard that a lot. Usually those exclamations are followed by short statements that tell the artist how they came up short in their execution. “Jenny! That’s the most amazing drawing of the Loch Ness Monster that I’ve ever seen. But I don’t think he has purple spots.” “Will, I love the story you wrote. But, Buddy, you should really stick with painting.”
Narcissists don’t react to situations the way most people do. Most people try to appropriately match their reaction to the situation. Actually, I don’t think most people have to try to do that. Okay, maybe we have to work at it a bit, when we’re reacting to something coming from someone we don’t know well. But with our family, or people we know well, it shouldn’t be fabricated. It comes naturally for most of us to find the right measure of enthusiasm for any given circumstance. Narcissists don’t have that ability. Maybe it has something to do with their lack of empathy. Perhaps they have to fake all emotions when they are reacting to something that they haven’t created. Continue reading →
Our ski season starts tomorrow. It has been ridiculously cold here, and I’m not really in the mood to go on the first day. I think I need more time for my body to get acclimated to the change in temperature. At least that’s what I’m telling my lazy self. I’m 47 years old and I still ski. I’m not bragging. I’m just surprised.
When I was in 6th grade, the gym teacher told me that I really needed to go out for basketball. I was taller than most everybody else in the class. It made sense that I should be on the basketball team. However, I didn’t want to play basketball. But, because I was an accommodator-in-training, I tried out for basketball. I am a first born, and therefore, a relatively cautious individual. Back then, I was a cautious, first born kid, who was overly preoccupied with what other people thought of me. I was incredibly self-conscious. I may have been decent at basketball, but I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, so I didn’t apply myself. At the end of try-outs, the gym teacher politely told me that I might want to try out for track, instead. I didn’t try out for track. Since then, I’ve always said that I’m not athletic. And yet, I still ski.
Labels are funny things. Why do we let people put labels on us? And why do we so willingly put labels on ourselves? I have a step-brother who hasn’t worn a pair of shorts in 34 years. Some kid once told him he looked like he was riding a chicken. That’s all it took. My step-brother hasn’t worn a pair of shorts since 3rd grade. How come we don’t stand up for ourselves and believe in ourselves. Why don’t we say, “Yea? So what. I like riding a chicken! So there!” I’m always telling my kids (and reminding myself) that people aren’t really looking at you or caring about what you do that much, anyway. They are busy focusing on their own stuff. They might comment on what you are doing, but they move on pretty quickly.
I have been making some tough decisions lately. I think that decisions are more difficult when I keep factoring in the potential reactions that I’ll get from the people in my life. There is this constant chatter in the background. I can hear them saying, “You can’t do that. That’s not the way it’s done. Nobody else does it that way. You should do it like we do. You should be more like us. It works for us. It will work for you, too.” I want them to like me. But more and more, I’m realizing that it’s more important that I like me.
Each time I make a new difficult choice, I realize that I am being true to me. As the dust settles on these new choices, I’m getting closer to my goals of Health, Harmony and Creativity. It has taken a long time for me to realize that I am strong and smart. I can have my own goals. I can follow my own path. I think sometimes it is a bit uncomfortable when people in my life see me making choices that are so different from their choices. Maybe it makes them want to reevaluate their choices. It’s more likely that they are thinking I’m losing my mind. They think I’ve gone off the deep end. I choose to think that I’m just swimming in a different pool. Continue reading →
“There’s my mommy’s wedding shoes.”
Jenny and her classmates have been earning pretend money since the beginning of the school year. They are rewarded with coins for their good behavior. Now that Christmas is upon us, they will have the opportunity to use the money they’ve earned. The teacher is setting up a little shop with donated items from parents. The kids will shop from these gently used and not-so-expensive new items. They can fill their little Christmas lists from the items in their Classroom Store.
I was helping the teacher set up the store. One of Jenny’s classmates was still hanging out at the end of the day. Trevor was pretty excited about the stuff he was seeing in the little store. He was wondering who might like the deck of cards, and who might like the mug filled with herbal tea bags. And then he looked at me and said, “There’s my mom’s wedding shoes!” He was so pleased and proud to point out the glittery silver shoes. He could hardly wait to see who would be interested in the shoes his mommy wore on the day she married his daddy.
Trevor’s parents are divorced now. I’ve seen them both at the school — separately, of course. They are one of the sets of parents that has asked the teacher to please schedule conferences individually. They despise each other and refuse to be in the same room, at the same time. I can’t imagine how they deal with the Christmas Program, since I’m pretty sure the school won’t be scheduling a separate showing for each disgruntled parent. Although, there are plenty of disgruntled, divorced parents. Perhaps a separate viewing for moms one day, and dads a different day is a good idea.
I haven’t been able to quit thinking about those silver slingbacks. They so sweetly represent all the hope and promise that Trevor’s mom and dad must have felt on the day they got married. They seem to embody the wish that all little girls have, to one day marry that prince charming and live happily ever after. And they also symbolize the little boys’ wishes to marry the beautiful little princess in the fancy shoes. Now, those shoes were laying amongst the unused potholders, trial sized shampoo bottles, and Dollar Store wrapping paper.
I still marvel at how the brain/spirit/soul works in all this. I include all three because I’m not sure which is responsible for the total disdain and dismissal that one feels for the ex-spouse. I still can’t figure out how it’s possible to so love someone that you think you can’t live without them, and then, at some point, you can’t stand to suffer through a 10 minute teacher conference in that wasband’s presence. Perhaps it’s only possible to get to that point because that person was never really loved to begin with? Who could handle the responsibility of knowing that another can’t live without you? It’s such a lovely, romantic notion, isn’t it — to have someone say they can’t live without you? Yet there are days when it’s all I can do to get dinner on the table, practice the spelling words and balance my checkbook. Then Rita, our chubby feline, rubs up against me, wanting something from me, and it sends me over the edge. I can’t be everything for everyone, let alone anyone. And no one should be expected to do that for me. Continue reading →
I knew this woman who had three kids and every year at Christmas, she put up a lavish Advent Calendar. She would wrap one present for each kid for each day on the calendar. That’s 75 little packages. I think she was running for the Mom Of The Year Award. I’ve not seen her in awhile. Maybe she buckled under the pressure of all those holiday expectations.
I made an Advent Calendar a few years ago.
Each day Will and Jenny open one envelope. They take turns opening, since there is only one envelope for each day. The envelope contains a little note that is their “present” for the day. It’s not always a package to open, in fact, it usually isn’t.
The note might say:
I’ve got leftover turkey to deal with. Not sure why I made a 10 pound turkey for the three of us. I knew, going into Thanksgiving, that Jenny wouldn’t eat any turkey. I made some noodle/turkey casserole thingee the other night. It was okay. It wasn’t anything that we’re dying to have again. I pitched the rest of that. Next I’ll try turkey soup. What is the compulsion to use every bit of the bird when I know that none of us are interested in eating any more of it? I satisfied the desire to prepare a traditional Thanksgiving meal. Why must I sentence us to boring meals until we’ve used every last bit?
I do the same thing with avocados. I buy a couple because they are good for us and some of us like them. I make plans and before I know it, the avocados have zoomed past ripe and landed right at gross. But avocados are expensive. I hate wasting them. I could buy cilantro and limes and make guacamole, but I’d be throwing good money after bad, in an effort to save what has gone bad. The guacamole wouldn’t be nearly as good as excellent guac made with perfectly ripe avocados.
I’ve done the same with a few relationships. I set out with the right intentions, only to have things go bad. Then I keep throwing good energy at it, hoping to make what is bad better. If a relationship is bad, I can throw all the positive spin in the world at it, and at the end of the day, it’s still just bad. I remember the counselor saying, “Put a positive spin on it. No marriage is all bad.” I was never quite sure how to put a positive spin on my continual failure as a spouse. You could dress me up, but I still couldn’t clean or cook well, as far as Mark was concerned.
I was talking to a dear friend yesterday. She’s at the end of her rope in a friendship with her neighbor. She kept giving her neighbor the benefit of the doubt. After three years of being a good listener and supportive friend, and getting the life sucked right out of her, my friend called it quits with her neighbor. And, because my friend is a really good person, she feels guilty about it. Isn’t that just how it is? Does the neighbor feel any guilt for taking and taking and never giving, during the entire length of that relationship? Who knows for sure. But, clearly, she took that love and attention for granted.
How are we supposed to know when enough is enough? When can we be done reinventing leftover turkey? When can we quit investing in a relationship that is not going anywhere? Who decides when and if it is time to quit? Do we wait for our partner or friend to make the decision? Can we get to the point where we honestly feel we have tried and given enough? When can we walk away with a clear conscience and hold our head high and say, “I did my best and it’s the best I can do?” Continue reading →
