Post 2: In Which Anne Learns She Has Legs (and hopefully learns to hate the way she looks less)

Aaarrrgh.  Today, I hated my closet, I hated my clothes and I hated everything!  I was putting on one of my new dresses and noticed something odd... the freaking zipper on the dress was sewn on the OUTSIDE.  That. Is. Not. Right.  Is this some new fashion thing that has completely eluded me?  Why the hell would you put the zipper on the outside?  Isn't it supposed to be inside, to, you know, hide the ugly part of the zipper???

I am going to take it with me tomorrow to let my sewing genies look at it and give their opinion.  Maybe I'm just old and missed this fad because I am so NOT a fashion person.  :/

After this fiasco I wore something I've had for a while, but wasn't happy with the way it fit today.  *sigh*  I have shoulders like a linebacker, and the jacket wasn't particularly comfortable.  What the hell - here it is.  I had a belt with it at first to break the line (a brown belt to match the shoes), but the waist on this (as on many dresses) rides too high on my evidently-overly-long torso, and the seam wouldn't stay hidden by the belt, which annoyed my obsessive-compulsive side.  I was uncomfortable all bloody day. 

See how unbearably happy I look?  *pfft*

Despite me feeling uncomfortable from a clothing perspective all day long, it was a productive day.  :)

I mentioned something in my last post about having an appreciative viewer.  This is a roundabout way to get to this, but here goes.  It's a mom story.

My mother was a woman born in 1940, which gives you an understanding of the time in which she grew up.  I will keep this relatively short by saying that she had challenges in her life, but was given a good example by a very strong, independent mother.  She was a beautiful woman throughout her life - devastatingly beautiful as a teenager and glamorous as an adult.  She was often compared to Elizabeth Taylor.  She dropped out of high school after getting pregnant very young, and never went back.  She went to work as a receptionist/secretary and ended up doing some print modeling.  I've left out a lot of details, but the relevant part is coming up.

My mother judged her worth by the beauty others saw in her.  While she always told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be... that whatever I dreamed for myself I could make happen, she didn't ever believe that as it applied to her.   My sister and I were taught the classic lessons of a southern lady from my mother's time - "put your face on" every day (makeup, for the uninitiated), dress like a lady, be polite, always look your best, flirt like a champion and find a RICH husband to take care of you for the rest of your life.  I learned all the things necessary to make that happen.   But while she told me that I could do or be whatever I dreamed, my father's example showed me how hard work could actually make that happen.  That's not a knock against my mom - there were just two parents involved in my upbringing and they each had different influence.  :)

I'll never forget watching my mother preen from the attention of men, and seeing her wilt a little if they didn't react the way she wanted/expected.  She was beautiful, and when people noticed it or complimented her on it, she responded.  Her looks were extremely important to her until the day until Alzheimer's disease made it impossible for her to remember their importance.

So, as I hit my teenage years, I began to judge my worth in the same fashion.  If a boy found me attractive, I must be worthy of love.  Sure, I was smart, but it was beautiful that counted.  So, when I was faced with a man that was attracted to me, I could respond positively and feel good about myself... but only because THEY thought I was beautiful/sexy/whatever, not because I believed it personally.  Well, that was never something that was going to last... and when left alone to look in the mirror, the judgement began all over again and the flaws stood out like a neon sign.  Totally jacked up, right?  Where was that whole "being a good person" in the line of importance, huh??

So, that is one life lesson that I have to overcome in this journey.  Physical beauty, as I see it or as others see it, is not the "thing" that makes me worthy.  That's one of those things I know on a mental level... but it is something I've had to work hard to try and unlearn... and I'm still working on it.

Now, can my darned closet cooperate with me tomorrow... PLEASE????  :)

In Which Anne Learns She Has Legs (and hopefully learns to hate the way she looks less)

So, let me start out with a few qualifiers.  This is not a pity party, nor is it an attempt to gain flattery or attention.  I don't hate myself.  I don't hate my life.  I am an exceedingly fortunate person who tries to never take that for granted.  Life ain't perfect, but it is a LONG way from sucking.  I am extremely healthy, I have a wonderful boyfriend that I adore (and thankfully, he loves me back), I have a son that I love that still calls me on occasion (he's 25), I have a great group of friends that make me laugh and keep me dancing, and I have a job that pays me well.  I do things that fulfill me professionally and artistically. 

I saw a video this morning that really hit home...  and I asked myself a very similar question to the woman in the video:  when is it enough?  When can I just be ok?  After a lifetime of trying to live up to unrealistic expectations, whether self-inflicted or externally driven, when can I just be happy with how I am every day?  When am I "good enough", damn it?

This is a process in which I am forcing myself to find a level of acceptance within. Why is this public then, you might ask?  Well, if others that read this are going through the same issues, they might have some helpful suggestions to make this a less miserable journey... and frankly, this is a way for my closest friends to understand the journey and keep me honest when I tend to exaggerate the negatives.  That doesn't mean that I expect mindless negation or ignorance of flaws... just to make sure that I don't go too far to the negative as I hope others don't try to overcompensate with false positives.

I, like thousands of other women (and men, though rarely voiced), struggle with resolving the image in my head of what I think is "perfect" to the reality of how I look.  They never match up and when I look in the mirror, whether I'm in a slimmer or heavier phase, I see a "300 pound blob" that doesn't look good in or out of any clothing.  (I've never weighed 300 lbs, so I don't really know what that looks like on me, but it's the way I feel, rational or not).  My heaviest weight ever was 218 lbs, about 13 years ago.

This whole thing is about me trying to come to terms with my own self-image.  I've learned that what I see when I look in the mirror isn't what others necessarily see, and I'd like to have a better image of myself to balance things out.  Now that I'm older, I'm also dealing with that whole aging process, and the imbalance of how old I FEEL versus how old I AM... and then there's the whole problem of how old I feel that I LOOK.  What a stupid mess!  The biggest driving thought for me:  I'm going to be 50 next April, and I want to be happy in my own skin in the second half of my life, because I've never been comfortable to this point.

Onward and upward.  I just started a new job, and had to spruce up my wardrobe.  Where I am now working, the dress code is business professional instead of business casual.  The men wear ties every day, and the women dress VERY nice.  I don't think I'm alone in this sentiment:  I HATE to shop for clothes.  I wish to avoid the whole process completely, and just hang out in slob clothes with no shape because they're comfortable.  But, I don't have that choice.  So, I went and bought a few pieces to upscale my options, and I bought several dresses.  I also don't like the way I look in dresses.  I always feel like they make me look even fatter, and that they never fit right.  But, when trying on the dresses, the sales lady forced me to look at my image a bit more realistically, and actually said something to me that made me wake up a little.

She said, "I don't see what you see.  That dress looks wonderful on you and is extremely flattering." 

"Ok, fine", I said internally, in quite a huff and not being very nice about it at all in my head.  To the sales lady (out loud) I replied simply and politely, "Thank you."  Then I went in to try on the next dress. 

Dubious, but determined to try, I purchased 5 dresses that day, and determined to wear more of the skirts and suits I had already languishing in my closet.  Below are my first two attempts at remembering that I had legs.  Now, I will say, that there was a time that I actually enjoyed having legs, and showing them off to an appreciative audience.  But let me make this perfectly clear - that was only because I knew I had an appreciative viewer, not because I believed it of myself.  That's a very important point that I'll explain in my next post.  I end the post with the photos, until the next time... but oh, I'll also say that I totally SUCK at this selfie thing, so just get over my expression or the crappy pictures.  The camera, to me, is now my enemy.   Hopefully I can get past that as well.  From now on, only one pic per post.  I had catch-up to do this time.

Look 1 - a Calvin Klein dress that I received some positive comments on from my most amazing dance darlings (thank you... I love you guys!!).

Look 2 - a Calvin Klein skirt I've had for a while (what can I say, both Calvin and Anne Klein clothes seem to fit me well and not make me cry) and a new blouse.

We'll see how this thing goes... but this is the start.  

Production

Busy, busy, Busy... that's all I can really give as an excuse for such a long time between posts.   Rehearsals for "Domari" are long underway, and I have about 15 dancers hard at work learning choreography.  We have a mascot... we have most of our cast... and we have fundraising in progress.  The elusive male dancers are my last gap to fill, though I do now have some prospects... which eases my frantic mind.  I always need more... so, if you are reading this and think it's too late... it's not... not yet.  There are still a couple of weeks left to join the cast if interested, so contact me.  president@dfth.org

My thoughts with regard to this production are in 15 places at once... a multitasking achievement extraordinaire.  I am finishing up the choreography; finalizing the last of the "dramatic music", for those transitional scenes that are more acting than what most would consider pure dance; working on the stage diagrams for lighting on each scene for my light designer, so that she can take my ideas and turn them into fabulous (workable) reality; editing rehearsal videos so that the dancers have a tool to use for their own rehearsal time; updating the written choreography notes for the same purpose; thinking about marketing and branding as we start the big publicity pushes; preparing for the next board meeting for DFTH where we discuss all the financials and scheduling; sifting through a few dancer applications that have recently arrived;  prepping options for our early VIP package sales:  prepping options for our "Adopt A Dancer" fundraising program; planning our requirements for the Cultured Cocktails event next month (another fundraiser!); and then there are rehearsal schedules; prop/scenery planning; costuming discussions/decisions; fabric shopping... how many things is that, really?  There are more that aren't in this list... it never seems to end.

I'm not complaining, mind you... I love the process... i just wish I could do this full time, instead of fitting it in around a demanding full time job.   I feel continually pressed for time... seeing the deadlines looming with full understanding of how much is still left to accomplish.  But I am surrounded by wonderful, talented dancers... a few are my "support group", who reassure me that yes, it's all doable... it will all work out... everything is fine.  They keep me sane when I start getting nervous.  :) 

The rehearsals are going well.  The new additions to the cast are picking up the choreography quickly, even though it is a fusion of styles and cultural influences.  There are new movements being introduced to everyone... some have ballet/modern/jazz background and have no problem with that vocabulary, and others are learning it for the first time.  Some are new to Middle Eastern styles of dance, and are learning the challenges inherent in that art form.  Some haven't had experience with the different Middle Eastern cultural influences... some only familiar with Egyptian versus Turkish or Israeli, for example.  :)  Without exception, the dancers are working hard... helping me take this vision and make it a tangible offering to the public eye.  I am honored that they have chosen to work with me on this, and blessed by their participation.

I definitely feel the pressure of balancing creative storytelling with real historic events... making sure that when I take artistic license I am not sacrificing the greater message, or the cultures represented.  The story is not a new one... these issues have existed for hundreds of years for more than just the Romani people... but it is as relevant today as it was then.  That by itself is more than sad... that we as a people have not learned greater tolerance, acceptance and understanding of our fellow man by now... that there is such hatred and violence still prevalent in our society.  I am stunned when I see so many examples in our world... how can people miss the basic fact that we are all human?  That we share the same basic desires in life?   This is why Dance From the Heart is so important to me... every culture has artistic expression... every culture... every HUMAN feels joy, pain, anger, love and loss... whatever opinion you have, what color you are, what God/Goddess you worship (or don't)... we all share these things, and express them through our voices, music, movement, visual media... there is common ground.  There is ALWAYS some common ground.  My goal is to show poeple that common ground.. to try and open their eyes... just a little.  Yes, yes... I'm stepping down from my overly simplistic and optimistic soap box... but I can hope, right?  That we will someday, universally, "get it"?

So, I go back to the tasks at hand, and look forward to the next rehearsal... the next dance... and the final production.  If it is as magical as the vision in my head, this will be one hell of a show.  :)

Domari

It's not an easy thing to put a show together.  This isn't the first one I've started, and it won't be the last.  This one is certainly on the list of the more ambitious I've attempted, but it isn't impossible.  I hope. 

In August of 2011, I will be presenting a show called, "Domari".  It is a story related to the Romani in Scotland in the 16th century, and what befell a small group of people because of the Egyptians Act (also referenced as "The 30 Day Law") created by King Henry VIII and later amended by Queen Mary.  This act required that "Gypsies" leave Great Britain or suffer the consequences - in some cases disposession and deportation, in others, death.  At its root, this is a story of love and sacrifice... but it is also a story of fear, prejudice and defiance.

I've begun the process of music selection and choreography, and began working with some excellent dancers in my classes in the last month to put some of these ideas in motion. I will have the same problem I always have... finding enough dancers.  There are dancers aplenty, yes... but not many that are necessarily interested in working my format or dedicating the time necessary to prepare the quality of show I require... or that have the foundation of the different forms of dance I'm utilizing. 

I started changing the way I do shows in 2007, with the last Dance From the Heart show.  No longer is the production the "recital" kind of lineup with one unrelated dance after another.  Now, I require dancers that are multi-disciplined and can act (or are willing to learn and have an instinct for it).  The entire show is a story, and each piece moves the plot forward to its conclusion.  It's more of a ballet format that is not usually done in the "bellydance" arena.  The movement has to be called fusion, since I will not be sticking to "strict" Romani movement for those dances, nor will I stick to "strict" Highland dancing for the Scots dances.  I have learned over the last few years that no one movement vocabulary can tell the stories I wish to tell with the music I wish to use... therefore, the subject matter is true to historically documented events, with liberal license in costuming, movement and music. 

The "gypsies" historically break down into three linguistic populations, whose origins are traced back to the Sind area of India (now South Central Pakistan):  The Romani, or Western gypsies that are the most widely known; The Domari, or Eastern gypsies that went to Egypt and the Middle East; and the Lomavren from Armenia and Eastern Turkey.  Where I take artistic license in this show is that I use traditional movement from Turkey, Israel, Egypt (as well as American tribal, ballet, modern, etc, though that is not what I'm referencing for this particular point) ... and some of each would fall into the acceptable broader category of Roma.  The Romani are the documented group that were in Great Britain, however, it is not implausible that a Domari or two joined that group.  With some historians asserting that the Roma first entered Scotland at the side of Templars that came from the crusade, it is not all that great of a stretch to make this link.  The (pivotal) main male character is considered a Domari, hence where I get the name of the show.  :) 

As I began the process, I laid out the storyline, the scenes I wished to enact... and then I started looking for music. I hoped to use one musician's music, leaning heavily toward Omar Faruk Tekbilek... but he doesn't have the Celtic aspect in his repertoire... though in some cases, it's relatable with imagination.  I wanted this to be a live music show... but if you think that finding dancers that are this multi-disciplined is tough... man!  That may be the impossible point on which I have to compromise.  As I find music, the scenes change... to fit the music and what I'm able to find.  Evolution continues, until I get the entire thing set in choreography.  Sometimes, one piece suggests a different scene than I originally intended... and while that makes me a bit crazy, it's important to remember that this is rather a living, breathing being for a while.

At the base of it is also funding... I'm looking for additional funding sources beyond the 2-3K that I have to put into it, in order to make is bigger, better, blah, blah, blah.  :)  I have some excellent options that I am working on, and I have some very experienced minds involved in this, to assist with the areas where I've lacked expertise in the past.  At the end of the day, this show is a benefit put on by a non-profit organization.  We do things as inexpensively as we can in order to bring more money in for the recipient charity.  In honor of my mother, the recipient will be an organization, family or facility that works in the area of curing, dealing with or treating Alzheimer's patients.

So, if you're reading this, and you are a Houston dancer or musician interested in this crazy idea... please contact me.  I am in SERIOUS need of dancers, male and female, from age 17 and up.  We rehearse at the Dominic Walsh Dance Theater in Montrose.  I can promise that you will learn something, be challenged, meet wonderful people and have a great time for a great cause.  If you'd like to donate to the organization, visit http://www.dfth.org/.  We welcome all help.

Marriage

I got myself into an interesting situation this weekend, which as usual, ends up with me thinking... or overthinking as the case often is.

My boyfriend and I went to visit his parents over the weekend, which is always a relaxing and enjoyable experience.  I look forward to those visits.  They live out in the country, about an hour away, so we usually will spend at least one night with them when we go out there.  They are wonderful people (which makes sense, knowing their son), and have been warm and welcoming to my son and I at a level that truly surprised me.  It doesn't surprise me as much now - they are, as I said, wonderful people.

His mom and I have a few things in common, and conversation is easy.  We were all out on the back porch talking Saturday night (my boyfriend with his dad, and me with his mom), and the subject of marriage came up.  It was my fault, I admit it... we were talking about wills, etc, which admittedly is an odd topic of conversation, but I mentioned that I didn't see myself getting married again.  (A note: my boyfriend and I met in high school, but have only been dating 8 months.  He's a "never-been-married" bachelor, and I've been married once, now single again.)  When I said that, his mom gave me one of those mom looks that makes me stammer... you know the one.  The eyebrows raise just a bit, and the penetrating stare comes out as if preparing to ask a very direct, personal question... and I say in a panic to forestall any further interrogation (motioning to my boyfriend talking to his father nearby), "Well, he doesn't want to get married".  To which his mother replies, "You need to work on him, but don't tell him I said that". 

Of course, with brilliant timing, all conversation with my boyfriend and his father had suddenly ceased as I blurted out my panicked statement, which of course sounded to my boyfriend as if I was blaming this entire  lapse on him.  Then, of course, he heard his mother's response, leaving him to inform her that yes, he'd heard that quite clearly.  LOL  After that brief moment, I set things straight, letting her know that we had discussed the idea of marriage, and neither of us was interested in that particular institution.  I also told her that marriage wouldn't make her son more of a life partner than he already was... I'm committed to him and the future we will share, whatever that may bring.

As we climbed into bed, my boyfriend commented on the "interesting conversation" his mother and I were having... and damned if he didn't use his own mother's penetrating stare on me with that irresistable grin he also has.  I told him the REST of the conversation to reassure him that I hadn't laid any blame at his feet with regard to our marital future, but he asked the key question:  "Have you changed your mind?"  Meaning, do I feel differently on the whole marriage question.

I told him that I wouldn't say that... but it prompted deeper thought.  I know his feelings on the subject, and I have absolutely no disagreement on that score.  I agree with him.  I don't need a legal or religious body telling me what my union is or should be... the only ones dictating that should be me and my chosen.  This morning, on my drive in to work, I heard a song that brought up all those romantic emotional thoughts I harbor on occasion, and the whole subject came back to my mind.

My first question to myself was:  What is marriage to you/what does it really mean?
Because my curent relationship has made me redefine so much of what I think love is/can be/should be, I have to look at everything in the context of present time.  What is past is past, and while I carry the lessons I learned and apply them to my life now, I can't let the past define my future.  So, while I know what the traditional view of marriage is, I have to look at what I really feel. 

I have to take all legal and religious constructs out of the view, because I would marry for neither reason.  I would consider marriage for one reason, and one reason only:  love.   To me... NOW... that union is both a public and private substantiation of deeper feelings... it is more than is covered in the classic definition of a boyfriend/girlfriend, it is for two people that choose to live a lifetime together, and a promise to see through both the good and bad times with the understanding that it is all about the greater whole... a commitment to each other, and the love shared and desired through the time remaining to us in this life.  The ceremony is in a public forum so that friends and family can express their support of that union, and the couple can have their love witnessed by those they care most about beyond their intimate relationship.

I started wondering - if I were to consider marriage again, is that even the right word?  That whole "institution of marriage" crap is NOT what I ever want again.  Even the terms "husband" and "wife"... the definitions (other than male and female partners in marriage) for the terms are as bad as the institution itself.  
Husband:  the master of the house or family.
Wife:    a woman acting in a specified capacity.

The Husband definition is more acceptable to a man that the Wife definition is to a woman, I feel certain.  But both fall so short of the whole.  They place us in boxes of what we are to be, without considering who we are or what we may want... it impersonalizes one of the most personal, intimate expressions two people can share, which is just... wrong.

I struggle with one question, however.  Would that formalized union change the way I feel about the person with whom it is shared?  I hesitate to call it marriage, given the thoughts I've expressed, but right now it's the only term I've got.

I would have to say that I'm not sure yet. Would I love him differently were we "married"?  That love is there, regardless, and while it will grow in depth over time, the love is based on who he is as a person, and how we relate to one another.  Would a "marriage" change the fact that I love him?  Nope.   Would I love him differently?   I can't answer that one.  

The fact is that marriage over time has changed.  It used to be that a woman didn't live with a man until they were married - and that wedding night had SIGNIFICANT impact on the way a man and woman felt about each other, because it completed a bond that (usually) hadn't yet been formed.  In my case, that doesn't apply.  The intimacy has been established.  How would a formal union change that?  I don't think it would.  It would be an issue of knowing without any doubt that each of us are committed to one another and our future to a point that we're willing to share it with everyone we know, and include them in a symbolic affirmation and celebration of that fact. 

Is it required?  Well, obviously not.  I can live with the man I love for as long as we choose to stay together, whether that's 2 years or 20 (or more).  I will always do my best to make sure that he knows he's loved, treasured and appreciated... no ceremony can tell him that more than I can by my actions every day, and vice versa.

After dating for only 8 months, I CAN say it's too soon to tackle this question seriously.  This relationship is so unusual - even though we've been dating a short time, the fact that we knew each other before seems to skew time... it feels like we've been together a lot longer than 8 months.  Occasionally something will come up that reminds us... oh yeah, it's only been 8 MONTHS, for crying out loud.  LOL  Having so much in common, thinking alike on so many things... well, it just seems too bloody easy sometimes.  It's kind of scary, in a good way.   But time is required... how about we let this relationship grow for a while before we discuss anything like marriage??  :)

But darn his mom for bringing it up and making me examine the whole thing.  ;-)  I am a traditionalist enough to know that I wouldn't be the one initiating any kind of proposal... and that makes me question myself as well... why do I feel that way, and what does that mean???  Have I found my one iota of "old fashioned", or am I a coward?

So, who else is facing these questions - either because you're at an end of a relationship wondering how you got there (or seeing quite clearly how you arrived), or in one where you're asking the same questions I am?  I'm curious about others' take on this, if you care to speak up.

Discipline

I'm being a very bad girl. 

I'm breaking all the rules.

I'm thumbing my nose at self-control, with enormous success.

And, as much as I don't want to toe the line it's time I get back to it.  Damn it.  *insert foot stomp here*

I have a bet riding on one portion of that self-control, as it applies to my enforcing my own workout discipline on my wonderful significant other.  If I'm not doing it myself, though, I sure as hell can't make sure he succeeds at his goal, which also benefits me in the end. 

See, I want to WIN that bet.  The stakes?  A photograph.  A photograph I would love to have, because it's such a  NICE photo of him.  As a matter of fact, I like it SO much that he's locked it in his bloody safe, for fear that I'll nab the damn thing and post it all over the internet!!  To win said photo, I have to get him in shape to make a jump from the floor onto a stage (without hurting himself), that he used to make when we were in high school.  I have until May to achieve this goal and win the prize.  The prize for both of us, more importantly, is both of us being in excellent condition (so that I can then get NEW photos of him looking even sexier than he did in high school... this time in a kilt).  He won't agree with me on that second part... you know, the part in parentheses.

I digress, as usual when the subject is the man being referenced.  Let's get back to the question of discipline, shall we?  See, I can't even manage self-control in PRINT!!!

The changes over the past year have altered just about everything in my life.  While the majority of all of that is good, it also creates challenges.  My dance schedule significantly reduced when I decided to step down as the Artistic Director of my dance company and turn the reigns over to someone else.  I also decided to focus more on my performances as a soloist, and in more than just "bellydance".   I'm only teaching now in exceptionally rare circumstances, and only to close friends or those students that seek me out specifically for what I have to offer.  This gives me more time to work with the ballet company with whom I dance, as well as develop the productions that intrigue me. 

While I was dancing/working out up to 11 hours a week in 2007 - 2008, now I'm down to about 2, which ain't gonna cut it, brother.  Now, this isn't altogether a bad thing - the schedule that went with that 11 hours of dance was insane.  I had no life other than work and dance, and the relationship I've been overjoyed to discover in the last 5 months would have been impossible in that scenario... hell, ANY real relationship was impossible.

The quandary...how to balance this... and pick up the discipline again on working out, eating right, getting my ass out of bed in the morning on time, taking ALL the medication I'm supposed to take after last year's surgery, AND dancing without doing that to the exclusion of all else... with a rigorous social calendar that came out of seemingly nowhere (and I'm not complaining, believe me - I'm blessed to have the friends I have!)

It requires me to do something I've never been terribly good at, or thrilled about doing.  Oh, I've done it... and I enjoyed the results, but I HATE having to regiment my life to such a degree.  *sigh*   That is:  maintaining a high level of discipline, saying "no" more than I want ("no" to ice cream, and chocolate, and bread, and pasta...and hitting the snooze button multiple times), and not allowing myself to be the lazy, slothful, indulgent, capricious female that my bad girl side would prefer.  NO FUN. 

1.  I have to get up when the evil alarm goes off in the morning.
2.  I have to make better choices in the food I eat - change back to the "loss" mode and seriously moderate certain things until I've reached my goal.
3.  I have to sit down and seriously plan out when I take these stupid freaking pills so that I don't break the rules, and still get the supplements I'm supposed to have.  It's important, and I'm being an idiot by not managing it.
4.  I have to make a real workout plan and stick to it... and enforce it for both of us!!! 

I read these back and kick myself.  None of this is hard.  Nothing up there is so difficult to manage that I'm incapable of dealing with it.  Yes, things are in major flux right now... living between 2 places makes scheduling and getting into any kind of regular routine damned difficult... but not impossible.  It simply requires me to have a level of discipline that I've been neglecting, shamefully.  Instead of sitting on my ass at the computer, I have to get up and do any one of the many things that need to be done.  I have to organize my crap for the coming day the night before.  It all works to my advantage in the end, so why is it so hard to make it happen?

I know damned well what the benefits are here...  If I'm up earlier, I get to work earlier... which either gets me overtime (for which I get paid) or it gets me home sooner to the one I want to see!  When I work out and make the right food choices, I look better, feel better... I'm healthier.  So, why do I continually ignore it, or just procrastinate???  Because I'm instant gratification girl, and a few moments in a warm, cozy bed is far preferable to getting up and being "responsible".  YUK, I hate that word.

It was easy to explain earlier in the year, when grief was so prevalent in my life... and perhaps this is just the time I'm coming out of all of it and getting back to "normal".  *HA!*  Whatever the case may be, it's time to snap the hell out of it and get my shit together!

So, how do you motivate yourself?  How do you enforce self-discipline?  Is it easy for you, or is it a struggle?  Inquiring minds and all that....

Impact

In what will be my last post for 2009, I contemplate our impact on others.  As I go through the process of reconnecting with so many people from my past, (this is certainly not a unique experience to me - it just happens to be my blog, so if you've been reading for a while, you know: it's all about me, me, me, me, me!!  MY narcissistic little universe... MY blog!!)  I am seeing and hearing so many examples of realized effect.  Phrases like:  "He talked about you all the time", "She was my best friend in high school", "You were the only [one] that talked to me", "You made me laugh so hard", "What a cool guy", "I was so lost after that", "I always thought it was my fault", "We were family". 

Not all of those were said about or by me... these are things I've heard from and about others as well.  These are things, even after 25+ years, people remembered.  These were moments in time whose effect has endured decades of additional sensory input and still maintained clarity. 

I'm referencing moments during formative years, at an age where intensity is amplified.  We were all experiencing the migration from childhood to early adulthood, trying to figure everything out.  We were so mature in our own minds, yet so naive in the scope of the world.  Truthfully, there are moments in the present when I discover how naive I still can be (as impossible as that sounds to those that know me well).   

The question was asked last night, in a gathering of these friends:  If you could go back to those years, with the full knowledge you have today, would you do things differently?  This is not a new question, certainly.  I answered immediately, "Yes".  But I have to ask (now that I've thought about it and had some unhappy dreams about the alternate reality that would have been the result):  Would you change who you are today?   Even though we made choices we may regret... even though we chose inaction over action... even when we lived with knowledge we might have been better off sharing... who would we be today if we had not made those choices?  What lessons would we have missed learning that make us who we are now?  Would the changes have erased pain?  Would our lives be better for them? 

I would say that we would just have different pain, different problems to address, different joys to celebrate... it could be better or worse.  But, we would not be the same without those impactful moments in time the way they happened, and with whom they occurred.  And truly, I would not sacrifice the moments of my life today, the joy and the pain of them, to chase a "what if" of 25 years ago.   That's not an easy thing to say, believe me, because like everyone else, I've had some bad things happen in my life.  To be able to go back in time and change a moment of inaction into a moment of action... but who's to say that I wouldn't have ended up hurt far worse?  It makes my brain hurt to contemplate it all. 

Further, since I feel good about my life as it is today, sacrificing the friendship of any of these people as they are now... no.  I can't say that I'd do it.  Though I wish that none of us had to experience the painful things we've lived through, those events have made us better able to deal with what lies ahead, to appreciate what we are rediscovering, and to make sure that we understand the lesson for the future.  That's really what this is about.

Now that we see what impact we can and have had, it is time to realize it, understand it and do something about it.  It's the common lesson this year:  Don't waste time.  Don't ignore what is in front of you, jumping up and down and waving its arms, because you are afraid to face it.  Reach out...  Connect...  Communicate...  Consider...  Act...  Accept...  Allow...  Feel. 

Each of these words fall on me like blows to the gut when I think of the time and opportunity missed. When I think of my lack of understanding, and see that same lack of comprehension in others.  Understand that you have impact.  That's not egotistical, it's TRUE.  It's not always positive impact, but one can change that. 

If you are a good person, you probably have a strong, positive impact on those around you, even though you're not consciously trying to do anything.   Don't allow yourself to be ignorant of it, because you are likely missing out on a meaningful exchange if you don't SEE what's going on.  Pay attention, damn it.  Do not undervalue the relationships you have by underestimating your own impact on others... good or bad.  One harsh word can have just as much impact as one loving word.  A LACK of communication can be ten times worse than a truth that might be painful to hear. 

The point is - if someone does something that moves you - tell them.  If you are told about one of these impactful moments that you have caused - understand that the person communicating it has been emotionally impacted, and needs to let you know what it (you) meant to them.  Accept it for what it is... don't brush if off as no big deal, because you are then telling them that what they considered meaningful is meaningless.  Just as we would want to apologize for a wrong, we need to understand that it is equally important to recognize what we've done RIGHT, when brought to our attention.  It is validation of the path that we follow, and notification when we falter on the path.

The last bit on the soap box, since that seems to be where I'm standing:  strive to have more positive impact than negative.  Consider what is coming out of your mouth, and how it might affect those around you.  Try to make choices whose end result is a happy one... think about the effect your actions can have.  If you choose to take it further... think about how the impact you have can include others, to help on a broader scale.

I feel like I've just lectured the blogosphere.  How horrid - I'm a nagging mother on the internet.  I sort of apologize - I really just can't shut up on this - it's too important. 

These lessons are being repeated, and are hitting so hard every time I come in contact with more people from my past.  We took those times for granted, not understanding what they would mean.  I don't want the lesson to be ignored this time around, because we are no longer too young/too foolish/too distracted to allow it to happen.  I would hate to wake up in another 20 years and realize that we let the time go by once again without realizing the potential of these friendships, and their impact in our lives. 

Resolve

How was your resolve this year?

I look back at the eve of 2009, and the things I promised myself I would accomplish this year.  In large part, I think I've done well, but I didn't set the bar too high, honestly.  I promised to be a better daughter to my parents - to my mother through her illness, and to my father as he dealt with it.  I said everything I needed to say to my mother before her death, though I doubt she understood any of it.  I stayed by her side through her final hours, with my dad, as we went through the painful ordeal of watching...waiting... and letting her go.  While I'm sure I can always be better, I've definitely spent more time (more QUALITY time) with my father, and our relationship is stronger than it's ever been.  I have to accept that we are two very different people that will never see eye to eye on some subjects, and he is working to do the same.  It's harder for him, of course.  As a parent, he wishes things for me that I do not wish for myself in the same way.  I understand this completely, but I won't change just to make him happy... as he won't just to make me happy.  We have to learn to appreciate each other in spite of our differences.  

I also made the decision to open myself to love, should the possibility arise.  I had all but written that off... finding attraction in impossible situations (where the person in whom I saw potential would never love me in return), or discovering that there just aren't very many men that fit the "list" of qualities that I consider must-haves for a relationship... and then, to my surprise, I rediscovered someone.  A friend.  To my greater surprise, he became more than a friend.  How it will eventually turn out, I can't say... but I stuck by my decision, and have opened myself to its full potential.  I have hope... I am very, very happy... and wherever this takes me I will go and not hold back.    It's a very freeing thing, while being unbelievably scary... allowing that much vulnerability and placing that much trust is incredibly hard for me, but it's the only way I can find out if what I think could be, will be.  I am trying to live in the moment (which is also hard on my Aries brain), and to let things happen as they will... and also know that whatever should come of this, I have rediscovered a friend that I will cherish for the rest of my life, who has made my life better from knowing him.  I try not to drive myself crazy with thoughts of "what if, when, how, will he, will we, can I"... and I'm partially successful... at weak moments, the damned thoughts sneak in and I have to beat them with a cudgel to put them back in their insecure, control-seeking place... but overall, I'm not doing too badly.   

And now we have the eve of 2010 approaching at the speed of sound... as the first hour of the new year looms, I feel a pluck on the string of time... the vibrations sending us forward, carrying us through the melody in the symphony of our future lives. 

Since I have become much more introspective this year, I ask the question I suppose everyone else does, though in a different way:  What melody do I wish to play, and how do I ensure that I'm playing the right notes?  I think of the movie Amadeus, and the moment at which Mozart is told by the King that his composition has "too many notes".  "Just cut a few and it will be perfect." 

I look at the last year or two, and realize that I packed my life with so many things that I was avoiding living that life to its fullest.  I was missing out on some of the most important things:  relationships, friends, family, moments.  Dancing 6 - 7 days a week, working full time, doing websites, catering on occasion... where was the time for me to actually live my life?  I didn't feel like I had much of one - or not the one I wanted. I distracted myself with activity, filling the gap with so much to do that I couldn't think about what was lacking.  I would have said, like Mozart in Amadeus, that I had neither too many nor too few notes - I had exactly as many as I required.  But, that was as many as was required for continued distraction.

This leads me to my 2010 resolutions.  More a theme of my resolve, actually.

There still is so much on the horizon... so much to do... so much to accomplish.  I tend to find myself in a snowball effect of activity - one thing leads to another, then another "thing" I hadn't thought of becomes necessary... then someone comes along with a project that's related and I get into that, too... before I know it I'm under a huge snowball that belongs at the bottom of a snowman... my life becomes a whole bunch of snowman ass.  So, this year I will take great pains to:

1.  Keep it simple - don't add too many notes. 
2.  Maintain a state of happiness... do things that lead to happiness and fulfillment instead of conflict, difficulty or stress.  (this applies to me and how I deal with those around me)
3.  Appreciate the gifts that have enriched my life.
4.  Love...unreservedly, fearlessly, wholeheartedly and generously.

If I can build this melody over the next year, I believe the greater symphony being composed will be a beautiful one... rich, deep, meaningful and lasting.

Happy New Year all... feel free to share your own resolutions... I'd love to hear them!

Giving

It's that time of year again, and Christmas is two days away.  I've braved the retail mayhem and come out on the other side, my wallet thinner, but I'm perfectly ok with that.

Today's topic is all about giving.  I think that it's taking a different direction for me this year, as is everything else.  I look around me and see so many people I know in some sort of difficulty.   We've lost family, friends, health, marriages, jobs, homes... many have lost more intangible things - hope, faith, comfort and security.  Seeing people go through these situations has impact, unless you are oblivious to the state of the world around you.  I am certainly impacted, by some things more directly than others, and while I want to do something for everyone, I can't. 

I'll be the first to say that I love to give gifts.  I like to see that smile when someone receives something unexpected that they really like and didn't even know they wanted.   Or, to see them get exactly the thing they'd been hoping for most.  It's not anything more than that - to make someone I care about happy, or do something that makes that moment in life a good one.  If it's something that helps them, all the better.  Sometimes gifts are just frivolous, and sometimes they stem from need. 

This year, both apply.  My Aunt, about whom I've spoken before, is back in the hospital.  This is a continuing thing, and a cycle that will repeat until it simply can't anymore.  I wanted to do something special for her this year, because she has been such a huge influence in my life, and so special to all of us.  I thought about how dreary it is in a hospital - and how little there is to do.  She watches tv, she does have a book to read... but there is a need for something more.  So, I went and got her an iPod Nano and a speaker dock.  I'm going to load it with all of her favorite music, create playlists for her and take it to her in the hospital the day after Christmas.  It's a little thing, really, but it will bring her so much pleasure.  She loves music, and I know that I would go crazy being cooped up for so long without any music to distract me. 

This is also the first Christmas my boyfriend and I are sharing, so there is some significance there.  I'm not trying to create pressure... it just seems that everything to do with him has become significant for me.  I've chosen gifts for him with care... and there is one that I chose (had commissioned, actually) for specific reasons, which I hope he'll like.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed. 

My son - well, he's going to be spoiled, but he's also going to be so shocked.  I can't WAIT to see him open his present.  :)   My father, for whom it is terribly hard to shop , has things waiting on him that he will enjoy and find useful.

Being able to do these things is wonderful, and I love doing it.  But more than anything, I look around and realize how incredibly fortunate I am.  I have comfort, security, health... I am working, have a roof over my head and enough income to afford all the necessities.  I'm not struggling like so many others are. 

I don't think it matters how much I give in gifts, time or money... I don't feel like it's ever enough.  I feel like there's always something more I could or should have done.  This year, I've concentrated on those closest to me... where there are those that have lost, and have need... and some that will simply get a smile from a surprise they never guessed they'd receive. 

I only wish I could give the most important gifts of all... good health to my aunt; an easing of burdens for my cousin; peace to my father; a sense of purpose to my son; the end of financial difficulty for a dear friend; and for the man that I love... well, I will encapsulate several thoughts into one word only:  renewal.

With that, I wish you all the happiest of Holidays, and hope that you all share in the joy of giving in whatever manner you choose to engage in it.

Love

It's an interesting set of questions to ask at this stage of my life, but I ask it of the blogosphere... How do you define love? What does it mean to you? How do you know you're in it?

Now, this is all beyond the point of establishing compatibility. You know - the basic requirements versus deal breakers. That's step one in the new relationship potential manual. :) Is this a good person, do you share common interests, can you communicate well, do you have that basic level of attraction, do you share similar values, etc. That all happens before any of the questions of love come up, and is a part of the friendship upon which deeper emotion is built. It's the foundation that holds everything together when life gets difficult and you're not doing such a great job of being a partner - it happens. That human thing does get in the way. We all have moments when we're not as attentive, don't express appreciation or understanding enough, aren't patient, don't see the other's point of view... it's not so much that we have those moments, but how they're dealt with that matters. Communication. :)

So - If you look the word love up in a dictionary (or other preferred source), you might see something like this: a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

If you look at what some psychologists suggest, they put a trianglular theory forward: Intimacy/Commitment/Passion; Attachment/Caring/Intimacy.


If you wish to get Biblical, then 1 Corinthians gives the Apostle Paul's feelings on the subject, which we hear often: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres."


I would have to say that my own definition falls in the first two areas. While the Apostle Paul's words are lovely, they are more geared toward the concept of Agape than Eros. This is just my opinion, but I offer this as substantive explanation of that opinion: Love is a human emotion, and therefore is as imperfect as those of us that encounter it in our lives.

The biblical verse lends itself much more toward a perfect spiritual love than a real interpersonal one. The sentiment is noble, and is certainly what we hope for, but it is (I think) unrealistic at the human level. Love is not in and of itself anything other than emotion - that verse gives it sentient qualities, which to me... exemplifies the concept of (religious) Agape more than Eros.


I noticed that the common thread between the psychologist's versions is Intimacy. I think this is a key factor in the love equation along with trust... and I would submit that intimacy would not exist without trust, but I think it's interesting that it is NOT listed in either of those triangular theories. This goes beyond physical intimacy... it is no secret that we can be physically intimate with someone we do not love - but the QUALITY of that intimacy is on a completely different scale.


The ability to be mentally and emotionally intimate is more important (to me) than the physical connection, though the physical manifestation of mental/emotional affinity is an incredibly special thing. To feel a level of comfort and trust that allows you to share your deepest thoughts and feelings with someone else... you are making yourself vulnerable to someone you are attracted to... ooo, that's scary. It means more. It counts more. And, when that part is present, it amplifies physical passion... to 11. (Spinal Tap reference, for those unfamiliar... it's one louder) This is something I have recently discovered, and didn't even realize was missing in the past... but it is so evident now that I can't ignore it.


Caring... that's a big one. Such a simple word, with such complex ideas. My focus shifts when I care deeply about someone. All of a sudden, the thought pattern shifts from what I want to what he wants or what would make him happy. Not that I don't consider myself in the equation - I'm human, for crying out loud... but when I start thinking about the other person first, placing their happiness ahead of what I might prefer in certain situations... it's an indicator. I notice that I have proactive thoughts of what could I do for the other person to make them more comfortable, happy, relaxed... whatever it might be... it comes down to consideration for their physical and emotional well-being. There is also the consideration of what impact my actions could have. I think more carefully about what I say and how I say it. I think about whether or not I've expressed appreciation for the things done for me. How long has it been since I've communicated how special that person makes me feel, how happy I am that they are in my life, etc. The question arises: "Am I taking him for granted?" The answer: make damn sure the answer to that question is "no". If you suspect it's anything other than no, do something about it.


Attachment/Commitment... I think these are going to be grouped together. There's such a fine line between dependency/obsession and love sometimes. I define love more along the line of WANTING that person in my life, as opposed to NEEDING that person in my life. While I don't buy the "soul mate" idea, I do know that when I love someone my life feels more full and complete with their presence in it. I want to be with them as much as I can be, simply because of the joy I feel in their company... whether we're talking, watching a movie, walking hand in hand, working on a project, exercising, or just engaged in some mundane task... it's richer in the doing because of their presence. The shared jokes that no one else gets... those moments when our eyes connect and something is exchanged... the unbelievable feeling of warmth and contentment when in an embrace... the desire to make that person as much a part of my life as possible... and knowing that I would do whatever I could to sustain that bliss for an infinite amount of time... those things help define my level of attachment and commitment.


Acceptance.... this is never mentioned, and is a big one in my book. The knowledge that relationships are not easy and takes work is always there... but knowing at some deep level that a life with that person is worth working through the difficulties, facing the challenges and talking through the most uncomfortable situations... and accepting that neither of you is perfect, that you both will change over time and that you WILL disagree (but that you can agree to do so) is also an important component of loving someone. I still have what I consider to be a bit of a romantic notion: that a really good relationship shouldn't HAVE to be hard work. I don't know if that's true or not... I am hoping that it is the case (and so far it is, I have to say), but it takes a few years to know that for sure, so check back with me and I'll let you know. :)


Then there's all of that gushy, intangible stuff... does my heart beat faster when he's on my mind, or when I see him look my way; do I miss him 10 minutes after we parted; does the thought of him during the day distract me too often (LOL).

The question for me through all of this: because I have been in love before and it was very different, is the difference in my own level of maturity and experience, or is it all about the person that has engendered the feeling? Or, is it a combination of both?

My behavior is different because of maturity and experience - the lessons I learned in the past have helped me understand how to make a relationship better (or how to be a better partner IN a relationship). That's different than the feeling itself, which I think has to be because of the person. I certainly am allowing myself to be more open, having thrown caution to the wind and just giving myself to the possibility - and that required a level of trust I don't think I've ever felt before. I'm told that it's all in MY head, but I will continue to debate that... it's rather a chicken and egg scenario - were the person not who he is, I wouldn't have allowed myself to be that open. That debate will undoubtedly continue, much to my amusement.

Then, there's one last take on this whole love thing... that it's just a gut feeling. You either are in it or you're not. You feel it... or you don't. You know it if you are... and if you don't know it, you aren't there. If you think of life without that person and your insides clench up and it hurts to consider it... well, that probably says quite a lot. If it doesn't choke you up... that says something too. If your thoughts automatically include that person as an intimate part of your life 20 years down the road... well, that's another indicator of a yes.

Perhaps this is all over analyzing the whole thing... but often, that's what I do. And, that's why I come out here and do it instead of making my friends crazy in long conversations. They don't HAVE to read this, and anyone can browse away from the post as their way of saying "SHUT UP!!". LOL

If you've made it this far - thanks for reading. ;-) And please feel free to say what you would add or remove from the list, and answer those first three questions in your own way.

Butterflies

I haven't posted in a while... but it seems time.

I have recently reconnected with many friends from my high school drama days, which has been a wonderful thing. Facebook is the medium through which we all have shared updates about our lives, looked at old photos and other memorabilia, and in some cases, met in person.

One of these meetings is what prompted my post today. One of these friends that I hadn't seen in 26 years has now come back into my life. We didn't date in school, we weren't "best friends"... he intimidated me, actually - he seemed to be much more grounded than I felt, seemed to have a better understanding of where he fit in everything, and he was wickedly smart with a dry sense of humor... but we were friends through working on shows together, sharing common interests and common friends... joined through circumstance in something that gave us joy. With those memories, we met and talked, and talked, and talked... LOL It was great. We have so much in common: books, movies, music, technology and so much more.

I found that I was no longer intimidated, but intrigued... and attracted. Being a flirt, I of course, flirted. I do that. He responded in kind, with a wicked imagination I was pleasantly surprised to discover. Finally, I made a blatant overture... made it clear that there was an attraction, but that friendship was the most important. Lo and behold, he agreed...and expressed mutual attraction, with the caveat that it go slow. I was pleased and agreeable to this, having had so much upheaval over the last couple of years.

More conversations, seeing each other again, and I now discover that I have... butterflies. It's been so long since they made their way into my stomach, I almost forgot what they were. That feeling of anticipation; that smile that makes its way to my lips with no warning; the unexpected thoughts that arise; they all contribute to this feeling of ...butterflies.

Butterflies are delicate, beautiful and engender protective feelings. Therefore, I am cautious. I see what could be serious potential for the first time in a long, long time. And, that makes me step back, pick up my jaw and want to tread very, very carefully. I feel protective over this potential... not wanting to breathe too hard lest I overwhelm the spark and extinguish the fire. And most importantly, not wanting to do any damage to such a delicate thing. It needs to grow at its own pace, without pressure or purposeful acceleration. It is hard to control the excitement, the giddy feeling - the joy of actually feeling hopeful after such a long spell of not.

I find that I feel... as if I'm allowing myself the opportunity TO feel. Emotions have been tamped down, cowering in the corner afraid of being exposed or taken advantage of... doled out in small portions to those that break through thin layers of the larger shell. Now, those emotions are very close to the surface, which is good and bad. Good because I'm feeling them. Bad because it can be embarassing to find that my eyes tear up when receiving a sweet email, or finding out that parents are being told about our "official" first date... and finding myself having those conversations with my father and closest friends. It's scary... and wonderful... and uncertain...and so unbelievably nice. :)

So, I take a deep breath, my head full of images and moments shared... and I smile as I cultivate... butterflies.

A legacy of books...

I spent Saturday morning with my father. First we had breakfast, then we went back to his house to continue the process of cleaning and reorganizing things to fit his life as it is now, his status that of a widower.

When my mother passed in February, there was so much to do. She had been in a long term care facility for 6 months, and the first consideration was getting her belongings back home, getting the house presentable for the visitors after the service, and getting through the first few weeks without her in our lives.Now, we've begun the process of cleaning out the house, including her belongings. It's an important process for my father (and for me, I suppose) in putting things into perspective. I cherish the jewelry of hers that my father gave me... things she had been very vocal about wanting me to have that had such great value to her. Today, however, I was in the middle of what she considered her greatest legacy... her books.

My mother was a voracious reader... we shared that hunger for words... for knowledge... for a fantastic escape from the mundane by losing ourselves between the pages of a book, no matter the genre.My father needed to clean out the office so that he could have more room to work. He's not a reader like my mother and I... he reads what he must, but not for pleasure. So, he asked me to come over and start packing books, taking what I wanted immediately, and preparing the rest for storage until I had the shelves up to display them all.

I knew my mother had a lot of books. For years they were stacked two high and two deep on every available shelf. Hard cover, paperback... you name it. Today, I was stunned at how large that library really was. I packed 10 large boxes (the weight just on the edge of what I could carry) of books today, and that wasn't even a third of what was there. I've brought two boxes home, containing those most precious to me, that I think I can fit into my own overflowing bookcases. I will have to buy many more bookcases to hold this legacy.

I realized that you really learn a lot about someone when you go through their library. You learn what they think about... what they enjoy... what piques their interest... and sometimes what horrifies them. You learn a bit about how their mind works, and you learn what you have in common with them. It was an exercise of remembering my mother in a different way... one more poignant in some respects than I have experienced thus far. Going through her life of collected books made me remember so many discussions... things we talked about for hours.

As I packed box after box... every novel ever written by Tom Clancy, John Grisham, James Patterson, James Clavell, Wilbur Smith, Ayn Rand, Dean Koontz, Louis L'Amour, Irving Wallace, James Michener, Jeffrey Archer... oh my word, the list goes on and on... political thrillers, murder mysteries, religion, philosophy, history, romance, biographies, spy novels, westerns, poetry, comedy... I was inundated with author after author... my head was swimming by the time I'd emptied the third shelf. I was looking at fiction, non-fiction... she wasn't a big fan of sci-fi.. that's where my bookcases take over.

I was looking at series of books that had 50 titles for each author... and she collected every last one of them. Throwing a book away is a sin paramount to murder in my home, and I learned that from my mother. I found old books... "Sonnets from the Portugese"... a first edition hardcover; "Constantine"... also a first edition hardcover... and some odd discoveries... the Book of Mormon (my mother wasn't Mormon) being one. My description of these discoveries is as random and frenetic as the actual event.

I don't know how to describe the feelings I went through as I looked at all these books... it was such a huge range of emotion. Overall, it was positive. I recognized a new way to keep my mother with me, to remember her in the pages of those books, knowing that she too enjoyed every quiet moment lost in those fictional stories or intrigued by the history and ideas presented in each non-fiction selection... and I look forward to blending the past with the present, and adding more in the future. I won't be the old cat lady in the neighborhood, I'll be the book lady... many of my friends on shelves surrounding me, characters I've grown to love over the years... enemies I've learned to despise because of their actions... heroes I admire more than I could ever express... and sorrow at loss so keenly described between the covers.

And, when I find the next house in which I must live, you can bet that there will be an entire room lined with bookcases to hold the ever-expanding collection; and they will be catalogued as they are placed alphabetically, by author, on the shelves. :)

Thank you Mother, for your legacy of books.

Parents

It's still amazing to me how my feelings about my parents change over time. As a child, I idolized my father. He was the one that could save me from any monster, any bully... could deliver any prize no matter how difficult to win... could perform any feat of magic to make my dreams come true... could give the best hugs... he could make the stars fall from the sky just to make me smile. He was the only Knight In Shining Armour... the Hero... the Gladiator willing to Champion me no matter what.

Over time, he became "the enemy". We are a lot alike, he and I, and looking in that mirror isn't always easy or pleasant. You learn, with mirrors, that not only the good things are reflected. You see your own faults right in front of your face as well.... your own shortcomings... and when reflected like that, you can't ignore them. Well, you can pretend to, but you know inside what's really there. And, when you don't want to see what's in that mirror... you turn away instead of accepting what is right in front of your face.

After having my own child and growing up a fair bit myself, my perception changes once again. I see the challenges he faced and understand them at a personal level. I feel the conflicting emotions he felt as a parent, and share similar burdens as a person. I also experience the same joys he experienced at similar places in his life, though the ultimate source of those joys differ... they are still relevant... comparable at a human level.

I am now at a point where I will have to confront the same grief he has faced as the child of an aging parent. I hope to God I never have to face the daily challenge he overcomes as the husband of a terminally ill spouse... but at some point I know I will have to deal with the mortality of someone I love intimately... and I hope I can do it with even a quarter of his grace. Now, he is my Hero again. He is the man I see for who he is, off the pedestal, his strengths and weaknesses clearly displayed. He is driven... sometimes misguided, sometimes gullible, but never stupid...he is loving, kind, a control freak, a hard working provider, a man who is understanding his limits (but still wants to surpass them)... he is tired. He is stressed. He is worried... and he is afraid.

This morning, I went and looked at an Assisted Care facility that specializes in Alzheimer's patients. We are at the point where my mother requires more than my father and her caregiver can provide. Yesterday, she locked him out of the house because he wouldn't give her the 3rd candy bar she wanted inside of 2 hours. His keys and the garage door opener were inside. He either had to climb a fence, or wait. He waited, she came back and opened the door. She's not able to manage her medication, but he's not able to be there every second of every day to manage them for her. She can no longer bathe herself, wash her own hair or deal with other personal hygeine issues all the time. She can't communicate beyond a few simple words or phrases, and she knows only a few limited people. Sometimes, she doesn't know who I am. She has no memory of my brother and sister at all. She needs 24 hour care, and he and one caregiver can't do it. I can't help enough to make a difference.

I was very impressed with the facility. Having a friend that's an RN that specialized in Alzheimer's care helps... she told me when this started what to look for when the time came... what to be leary of... and what to run away from with all haste. This place is as good as I've seen outside of a patient's ability to stay at home. I think she would adjust to it, and it would allow him to have a functional life as well... his health isn't perfect at 73, and the stress of all of this is impacting him - how could it not? With others in her situation around her all the time, she also would have a level of social interaction she doesn't have now. Constant attention, constant mental stimulation, the ability for her caregiver, friends and family to come and visit as we please and take her out as much as she and we want... and it's close. Within 10 miles of both my dad and I, and really halfway between us.

He asked what I thought about it... he planned to keep her at home as long as she knew who he was... but it's obvious with the way her condition has deteriorated in just the last week that he can't maintain the level of care required in their home. He doesn't want her to live elsewhere, and he's having the same struggle every person that has to make this decision has. I told him what he needed to hear, and gave (unnecessary) permission for him to do what needed to be done. For his health and sanity, and for her well-being. It's time.

So, now we move forward with the gradual process of getting her into this facility. We will have to wait for a few weeks, most likely - they are currently full (only 16 units in the facility), but have a transfer occurring within the next 6 weeks or so that will empty a room. It will be my mother's room.

I suppose it's hard to understand if you've never been faced with this type of situation. My mother was gone a year ago, at least. We now have to deal with a person that is still functioning, but she's not the person we have always known. We don't even see glimmers of good days versus bad days... they are all the same. Progressively, alarmingly worse. Gone are the things she took the most joy in: reading, playing golf, cooking, entertaining, visiting friends, supporting her family, traveling, shopping, driving, laughing until she cried at silly or dirty jokes... just being the beautiful, fun-loving, family oriented, infuriating woman that she has always been.

Over time, she has been the miraculous nurse that healed all wounds with a simple kiss... the Valkyrie that would battle the school, another mom or anyone else that would DARE do harm to HER child... the Confessor to whom all secrets were told and with whom they would be kept to the grave, no matter WHAT... the Advisor on matters of men, life and children... the Conspirator with whom trouble could be sought... and now the child who needs care in return. I have run the gamut of emotion with her as well... she's been the only one I could turn to, the one I trust in all things... the one in whom I could never trust... and the one I miss.