Years ago, when I was little girl, we held hands. We'd swing them as we walked. Mom would squeeze, and then I'd squeeze back. And on and on. The squeezing never stopped.
You know what sucks about wheelchairs? They stop you from holding hands. Instead, I pushed her chair. I cannot remember the last time I held my mother's hand and just squeezed.
Today, I held my mother's hand for the very last time, through an old bar of soap, and then I let it slip into the trash.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Thursday, November 14, 2013
I'm tired of collecting trash
I'm a stuffer. I like stuff, I want stuff, I buy stuff. I spend lots and lots of time moving stuff around because I have so much stuff. And it's all just, well, just stuff. I've always known this about myself. And I've always known this about stuff.
I've always used shopping as a pick me up. I am a firm believer, or rather I WAS a firm believer, in retail therapy. A trip through the aisles of Target can instantly boost my mood. And my buggy always has stuff thrown in. Stuff I didn't know I wanted, needed, or even cared about, until that trip to Target. Do you know that I know at least 7 employees by name and well enough for them to enquire about my life and day to day goings and for me to do the same? When I walk in, there is usually someone who says "hey" to me within 3 minutes.
I get daily emails on my phone from Pottery Barn, Old Navy, Origins, Target, Smocked Auctions and a whole bunch more. I am constantly looking for things to buy to fill some space in me that is obviously lacking. That's going to change. It's become very clear to me, that I don't want this at all anymore.
You see, I inherited a bunch of stuff. Stuff I don't know what to do with. Stuff I don't want. Stuff I don't have the mental space or energy to deal with. And so today, I decided, I no longer like stuff. I no longer want to buy it, or go look at it. I don't want to move it around. And I don't want a bunch of it sitting in my home when I die.
When I am dead, the granite countertops we financed, that have not enhanced my life in ANY way, will mean absolutely nothing to anyone. The 50 shirts I own, will all be pitched or packed up and given to Goodwill. The gazillion little odds and ends in my home will be tossed, useless, unnecessary, and basically just a burden for someone to get rid of. And here's the catch, they don't mean anything to me either.
It took looking at my mom's house, crammed with stuff (getting sick of that word? Ha! I would never let my students use it, so I'm going all out here!) and me not knowing what to do with it, where to put it, who to give it to or sell it to, for me to realize, some stuff just isn't important.
This quote from Toy Story 3 has always resonated with me. I am going to remember it every time I am tempted to put something in my buggy that I don't need, LOVE, or use every day.
"We're all just trash, waiting to be thrown away!" --Lots-o'-Huggin' Bear
I'm tired of collecting trash.
I've always used shopping as a pick me up. I am a firm believer, or rather I WAS a firm believer, in retail therapy. A trip through the aisles of Target can instantly boost my mood. And my buggy always has stuff thrown in. Stuff I didn't know I wanted, needed, or even cared about, until that trip to Target. Do you know that I know at least 7 employees by name and well enough for them to enquire about my life and day to day goings and for me to do the same? When I walk in, there is usually someone who says "hey" to me within 3 minutes.
I get daily emails on my phone from Pottery Barn, Old Navy, Origins, Target, Smocked Auctions and a whole bunch more. I am constantly looking for things to buy to fill some space in me that is obviously lacking. That's going to change. It's become very clear to me, that I don't want this at all anymore.
You see, I inherited a bunch of stuff. Stuff I don't know what to do with. Stuff I don't want. Stuff I don't have the mental space or energy to deal with. And so today, I decided, I no longer like stuff. I no longer want to buy it, or go look at it. I don't want to move it around. And I don't want a bunch of it sitting in my home when I die.
When I am dead, the granite countertops we financed, that have not enhanced my life in ANY way, will mean absolutely nothing to anyone. The 50 shirts I own, will all be pitched or packed up and given to Goodwill. The gazillion little odds and ends in my home will be tossed, useless, unnecessary, and basically just a burden for someone to get rid of. And here's the catch, they don't mean anything to me either.
It took looking at my mom's house, crammed with stuff (getting sick of that word? Ha! I would never let my students use it, so I'm going all out here!) and me not knowing what to do with it, where to put it, who to give it to or sell it to, for me to realize, some stuff just isn't important.
This quote from Toy Story 3 has always resonated with me. I am going to remember it every time I am tempted to put something in my buggy that I don't need, LOVE, or use every day.
"We're all just trash, waiting to be thrown away!" --Lots-o'-Huggin' Bear
I'm tired of collecting trash.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Grateful
I'm grateful. Tonight was a very humbling experience. A friend of a friend of a friend created an event on FB to give out soup and warm blankets and clothing since tonight will be freezing.
I have known since my mother died that I would give her blankets (she has LOTS!) and jackets to the homeless when winter came. It just snuck up on me. I wasn't ready to go to her house, and take out her things, and those things to be gone from my eyes, my touch, forever.
But, I had to. How can I let old coats and blankets sit unused, when there is a real and desperate need for them? How selfish. To keep a coat just to look at, when it could hold and warm another. I was going to go with just Mimi, but at the last second reached out to a friend, and she joined me.
The hardest part of going to my mother's house, is that I have to enter through the back door. The back door. We have no key for the front. The day that I found her, I banged on the front door, the windows, screaming and yelling. The dog was barking like mad. I ran around to the back, tripped, fell, jumped back up and kept running. The back door was open. I ran through it, to find. . . to find. :( So for me now, I cannot walk around to her back yard. The idea of it terrifies me, makes me sick. I will never walk around the side of that house again. I'm so thankful to my friend, not just for her emotional support, but because she did that walk for me.
I arrived at the event, and was immediately passing out blankets and those hand warmer packs that last for like 18 hours. Even Mimi was passing them out. There was one woman who started taking things from me very quickly and packing them into her van. One of the items I had debated bringing, was my mother's favorite coat. I had it dry cleaned just prior to her death. She never wore it. I knew, this lady, she wanted my mother's coat, but I held tight to it. She left. I later found out that she is homeless, but she has a car, so gets to events like this quickly and grabs as much as she can. She then resells it to the homeless who can't get to these events in time because they don't have a car or bike. She had also gotten 6 of the knit caps someone was giving out. But that's okay, well, it's not. But my job is to give. Her job is to survive. I pick my job over hers.
After I had given all but one blanket out (it was in the front seat, I had forgotten about it) and my mother's coat, I got to chatting with other givers and homeless men. Several of the homeless men work to help all. They try and help keep things "fair" and are leaders and able to help get resources to others. I met one man, Dxxx. He is a big person in the homeless community. I explained to him my past efforts to be involved, the different organizations I've reached out to without success, my inability to find a way to make a REAL difference. He gave me his card, and told me when I was ready to call him. He will help me understand what is already out there, what is lacking, help me determine what my vision is for my role in the homeless community and how to implement that. Truly a gift this man is. I asked him, how he takes care of himself, and he said, he doesn't, God does. He said, why seek worldly treasures and forsake your soul. He was a MODERN DAY Christ, in that he lived to serve others and walked among the poor. So excited about what he can help me accomplish.
I left, glad of this meeting, and that I was able to help, but sad that my mother's coat still sat in the back of my van. On the way home, I saw a woman standing on the side of the road wearing nothing but cutoff jean shorts and a long sleeve tee. I imagine, based on how she was standing and where we were, but of course do not know, she was a prostitute. But she was a cold one. I pulled up and asked her if she would like a coat and a blanket (I had one left). She said she'd take anything. She was tiny, my mother's coat swallowed her. I asked her what else I could do for her, she said nothing, thanked me and walked away. . . I am thankful that my mom's coat was big enough to warm her whole body, and hope that she can feel loved when cloaked in it. I am an emotional mess. I am so sad my mom is gone, but I think through her death, I truly have found my calling and my need to serve. So in her death, I have found a new life for myself.
And yes, my five year old went with me. What point is there in learning this new life, if the lessons are not passed down?
I have known since my mother died that I would give her blankets (she has LOTS!) and jackets to the homeless when winter came. It just snuck up on me. I wasn't ready to go to her house, and take out her things, and those things to be gone from my eyes, my touch, forever.
But, I had to. How can I let old coats and blankets sit unused, when there is a real and desperate need for them? How selfish. To keep a coat just to look at, when it could hold and warm another. I was going to go with just Mimi, but at the last second reached out to a friend, and she joined me.
The hardest part of going to my mother's house, is that I have to enter through the back door. The back door. We have no key for the front. The day that I found her, I banged on the front door, the windows, screaming and yelling. The dog was barking like mad. I ran around to the back, tripped, fell, jumped back up and kept running. The back door was open. I ran through it, to find. . . to find. :( So for me now, I cannot walk around to her back yard. The idea of it terrifies me, makes me sick. I will never walk around the side of that house again. I'm so thankful to my friend, not just for her emotional support, but because she did that walk for me.
I arrived at the event, and was immediately passing out blankets and those hand warmer packs that last for like 18 hours. Even Mimi was passing them out. There was one woman who started taking things from me very quickly and packing them into her van. One of the items I had debated bringing, was my mother's favorite coat. I had it dry cleaned just prior to her death. She never wore it. I knew, this lady, she wanted my mother's coat, but I held tight to it. She left. I later found out that she is homeless, but she has a car, so gets to events like this quickly and grabs as much as she can. She then resells it to the homeless who can't get to these events in time because they don't have a car or bike. She had also gotten 6 of the knit caps someone was giving out. But that's okay, well, it's not. But my job is to give. Her job is to survive. I pick my job over hers.
After I had given all but one blanket out (it was in the front seat, I had forgotten about it) and my mother's coat, I got to chatting with other givers and homeless men. Several of the homeless men work to help all. They try and help keep things "fair" and are leaders and able to help get resources to others. I met one man, Dxxx. He is a big person in the homeless community. I explained to him my past efforts to be involved, the different organizations I've reached out to without success, my inability to find a way to make a REAL difference. He gave me his card, and told me when I was ready to call him. He will help me understand what is already out there, what is lacking, help me determine what my vision is for my role in the homeless community and how to implement that. Truly a gift this man is. I asked him, how he takes care of himself, and he said, he doesn't, God does. He said, why seek worldly treasures and forsake your soul. He was a MODERN DAY Christ, in that he lived to serve others and walked among the poor. So excited about what he can help me accomplish.
I left, glad of this meeting, and that I was able to help, but sad that my mother's coat still sat in the back of my van. On the way home, I saw a woman standing on the side of the road wearing nothing but cutoff jean shorts and a long sleeve tee. I imagine, based on how she was standing and where we were, but of course do not know, she was a prostitute. But she was a cold one. I pulled up and asked her if she would like a coat and a blanket (I had one left). She said she'd take anything. She was tiny, my mother's coat swallowed her. I asked her what else I could do for her, she said nothing, thanked me and walked away. . . I am thankful that my mom's coat was big enough to warm her whole body, and hope that she can feel loved when cloaked in it. I am an emotional mess. I am so sad my mom is gone, but I think through her death, I truly have found my calling and my need to serve. So in her death, I have found a new life for myself.
And yes, my five year old went with me. What point is there in learning this new life, if the lessons are not passed down?
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
I'm Okay
I'm sorry, my last post worried a few friends. . . I was in a dark place, am still in a dark place, but I know that there is a light at the end. I can't necessarily see the light yet, but I KNOW it is there.
An old friend recently texted me, "You're pretty to me. Jesus has your back and your front, girl."
I know this is true. He is the light that I just need to seek right now. He does have me covered, front and back. I just have to let him hold me up right now, because I can't do it on my own. But could I ever?
So my point is, I'm okay. Rather, I am okay with not being okay right now. Because I know, that one day, I'll be okay again. Okay?
Once again the song that always gives me hope.
Matt Redman
An old friend recently texted me, "You're pretty to me. Jesus has your back and your front, girl."
I know this is true. He is the light that I just need to seek right now. He does have me covered, front and back. I just have to let him hold me up right now, because I can't do it on my own. But could I ever?
So my point is, I'm okay. Rather, I am okay with not being okay right now. Because I know, that one day, I'll be okay again. Okay?
Once again the song that always gives me hope.
Matt Redman
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Grief and Aging
In response to a picture I posted, someone mentioned that I look much older now than I did say a year ago. They weren't being mean, we were discussing age and appearance and so she shared this thought with me. She wondered if it was my grief adding lines to my face. I don't know. But it made me think.
I stopped looking in the mirror months ago. My face just stopped mattering. I realized today that I brush my teeth, wash my face, and run a brush through my hair, without ever looking at myself. The mirror above the sink is gone, and has been replaced by nothingness.
I do this with my body too. I get dressed. I get undressed. I shower and rub soap on my self. I do all this, without really seeing myself. Without much thought of what I look like.
But it is more than that. It is more than not looking at myself. It is an almost blatant disregard for myself. I've forgotten I'm here. Or I know I am here, and I just don't care. Or I know I'm here, and I wish I that I wasn't.
I'm ignoring me. And I'm abusing me. And I'm killing me. And I can't think of one good for ME thing I've done in a really long time.
I keep trying. I keep saying I'm getting better. Maybe I am.
But I'm not. I'm just avoiding the problem.
Me.
My grief, my sadness, my depression. My fuckinglifethatisnotwhatiwantittobeanymore.
All the lipstick and haircuts and weight loss in the world aren't going to change a thing.
I stopped looking in the mirror months ago. My face just stopped mattering. I realized today that I brush my teeth, wash my face, and run a brush through my hair, without ever looking at myself. The mirror above the sink is gone, and has been replaced by nothingness.
I do this with my body too. I get dressed. I get undressed. I shower and rub soap on my self. I do all this, without really seeing myself. Without much thought of what I look like.
But it is more than that. It is more than not looking at myself. It is an almost blatant disregard for myself. I've forgotten I'm here. Or I know I am here, and I just don't care. Or I know I'm here, and I wish I that I wasn't.
I'm ignoring me. And I'm abusing me. And I'm killing me. And I can't think of one good for ME thing I've done in a really long time.
I keep trying. I keep saying I'm getting better. Maybe I am.
But I'm not. I'm just avoiding the problem.
Me.
My grief, my sadness, my depression. My fuckinglifethatisnotwhatiwantittobeanymore.
All the lipstick and haircuts and weight loss in the world aren't going to change a thing.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Waiting But Not
I have done all my preapproval stuff. It's been a year. I'm READY for this surgery and to start my NEW LIFE. My life where I run, and jump on trampolines, where I can walk as fast as my husband and where I fly on airplanes without fear of not fitting. My life where I don't huff and puff just getting out to check the mail and the life where I can go from sitting to standing without HOISTING myself up. The life where I shop at any ole store and kick Lane Bryant to the curb. The life where my blood pressure is normal and my diabetes is 100% in remission (I do manage it well though).
But I'm on hold. Unfortunately, my surgeon's wife is VERY ill. I think she might be terminal. He is on reduced hours and takes times of leave to be with her. I will wait. I cannot rush someone's life or sorrow. I'd do anything for one more day with my mom. I can't be ready for my new life at the expense of her life, of his forever changing. My heart breaks for him, and their grown children. Cancer can just flat out SUCK IT. Death can too.
But while I wait, I decided, grieving as I am, it is time to start being me again. Time to start getting dressed every day, putting on makeup, taking pride in my cute self and acting like a NORMAL person. I was always normal while fat, but this grief thing, well it knocked me down.
So yesterday I got a hair cut, and today I wore lipstick. And I went to lunch with girlfriends. So I did my thing. So instead of WAITING for my NEW life, today I enjoyed this one. The one where I struggle to walk, and get up, and I don't jump on trampolines. But I do have amazing friends, a beautiful daughter, and devoted and loving husband. Where I have faith in God and receive his grace. Where I am alive, and able to do for others and am able to love and give, and just be.
Because that won't always be. That is the part that sucks. But we can't let that part, the sucky death part, take away the beautiful life part.
And so here's me, in all my lipstick glory, with the shortest hair I've ever had. Pretty cute for a chubby girl, yeah?
But I'm on hold. Unfortunately, my surgeon's wife is VERY ill. I think she might be terminal. He is on reduced hours and takes times of leave to be with her. I will wait. I cannot rush someone's life or sorrow. I'd do anything for one more day with my mom. I can't be ready for my new life at the expense of her life, of his forever changing. My heart breaks for him, and their grown children. Cancer can just flat out SUCK IT. Death can too.
But while I wait, I decided, grieving as I am, it is time to start being me again. Time to start getting dressed every day, putting on makeup, taking pride in my cute self and acting like a NORMAL person. I was always normal while fat, but this grief thing, well it knocked me down.
So yesterday I got a hair cut, and today I wore lipstick. And I went to lunch with girlfriends. So I did my thing. So instead of WAITING for my NEW life, today I enjoyed this one. The one where I struggle to walk, and get up, and I don't jump on trampolines. But I do have amazing friends, a beautiful daughter, and devoted and loving husband. Where I have faith in God and receive his grace. Where I am alive, and able to do for others and am able to love and give, and just be.
Because that won't always be. That is the part that sucks. But we can't let that part, the sucky death part, take away the beautiful life part.
And so here's me, in all my lipstick glory, with the shortest hair I've ever had. Pretty cute for a chubby girl, yeah?
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