Moose

This is Moose, weighing in at over 5 lbs. now!

Of course there are more puppy photos on My Serenity

You KNOW you want one!

The Lighter Side of Life

Remember Sunny Words?

I've gotta a new game.

Say the words out loud, say them again, it isn't what you read, it's what you hear.

Example:

Weed Owns Tan Ditch Ants (what you read out loud)

We Don't Stand A Chance. (what you hear)

This Weeks Wacky Words

1. Soon Knees Hide Hup.

2. Dew June Hoe Mine Aim.

3. Yule Height Dub Mile I've.

4. Wreck You Lure Hoard He Calf.

What did you hear?

* * * * * * *



A Few Rambling Thoughts

I used the words "small things do make a difference" last week in brief post...the funny thing is...they really do.

I have been allowing myself to dive deep into melancholy of late. Not really enjoying my 'now' moments. (as if ya couldn't tell)

For what ever reason that changed this weekend. Not on Saturday, I was still sorta depressed then, I let the "icky" feelings have one final lie in...letting total blahness have its way with me.

But, by Sunday, I dunno, I popped out of it like a jack-in-the-box...I awoke so damn ready to ravish and be ravished...I couldn't get the sexy thoughts out of my head, it seemed every moment of the day was filled with them. Through out the day I was overwhelmed with such strong urges...the images that flashed through my mind were so very sinfully delightful!

The thoughts were just buzzing through me...and I was filled with so many wild desires. ~grin~.

A small thing (or itch)...sexual energy...but one that sorta set a whole new 'vibe' going inside me. ~impish grin~

Can't say I accomplished much, (umm...I suppose it depends on one's definition of accomplishments), but I did have an energizing day!

It became so distracting, I decided I needed to find something else to occupy my mind...so I visited one of my favorite haunts, Barnes and Noble... where I spent time perusing a few books, eventually picking up Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History, by Laurel Thatcher Urich (interesting), and, Bill Clinton's autobiography, My Life, (a recommendation by a very clever man),'tis indeed a very interesting read, and when my budget allows, a book I will be buying...but I was soon distracted from that as well.

Our Barnes and Noble has a Star Buck's cafe inside it, I was sitting just below it, reading in a very comfy arm chair, when I began picking up snippets of a conversation.

Him: I like nature and pets, what about you?
Her: I have a dog, she is so much fun to have around, a Great Dane...

(more in this vein for quite some time, both exchanging child hood pet stories)

The conversation slowed a bit, they moved on to the weather...I thought..."Ah oh...they are dead in the water already." But I thought too soon.

Their mutual exploration moved on to their living arrangements.

She spoke of buying her first home, how exciting it had been, spoke of all of her 'firsts' as a homeowner.

He spoke of his bedroom, with a rather long and detailed description of it...blah blah blah...

My mind being where it had been all day...I kept hoping for juicy tidbits to fall from their lips...maybe some descriptions of what they look for sexually in a mate...but, nah...too early in the game...and then thinking...(probably a never gonna happen...)

Because I was sure this blossoming friendship was probably over when he said...

"When my dad dropped me off here, I was afraid you wouldn't show up, and I would be stuck here for hours." (A final, ah oh!, as I thought to myself...he doesn't drive? he doesn't have a car? is he a student? Nah, they would meet on, or, near campus if so, wonder why his Dad dropped him off...curious...)

I was itching to get a look at this "blind date" couple...

I got up and wandered the book racks until my view was unobscured...

Two young twenty-somethings...neither very attractive (yeah, I know shallow of me)...nor dressed particularly fetching...both wearing T-shirts and jeans. I couldn't see the slogans on the T-shirts, but I did wonder...did they spend time thinking over the statement the T-shirt slogan said about them? Or, was it the only clean thing they owned?...

I always have thoughts like that when I see people wearing sloganized T-shirts...do they have any idea the impression the slogan imparts? Especially the really goofy ones. Would it have mattered if hers had said, "Queen Be-atch" or "Check out the junk in my trunk"?
Or if his had said, "A penny for your thoughts, a dollar if you flash me", or "Check out my iBone"?

I wanted to interview them, (of course being a fantasy interview I wanted totally honest unedited answers).

How did you two meet, an online dating service, or through mutual friends? How many emails, im's, or phone calls did you exchange before you decided to meet? What was it about the other that made you determine it was worth setting up a meeting? What thoughts were running through your minds before the meeting?

I wanted to take them each aside, and ask each of them their impressions of the other so far. What thoughts went through each of their minds when they first caught sight of the other? Had they exchanged photos before hand? I wanted to know if her thought lines followed along with my own. I wanted to know if she thought his beard was sexy? I wanted to know if he thought her four tummy rolls were attractive, or if maybe she should have worn a shirt that was not quite so tight? (yeah, yeah I know, even more shallow of me...but really...you woulda thought the same!).

A small part of me wanted to linger until the end of their meeting, to observe their reactions, their faces as they parted ways, but my interest began to wane when I could no longer hear the conversation.

My final sight of them was of them laughing together, I decided this was a good sign...yes?

Loss

I have spent a lot of time lately not allowing myself to feel too deeply about anything. Especially the fact that my marriage failed. Because when I feel it soul deep, the message I receive back isn't yet a healing message. The inner me feels lost, she is still telling me...I am the one who failed.

If only...if only...if only...

If only I had done things differently, if only I had been different. It goes on and on sometimes.

I remember when my sister's first marriage ended. As I sat with her trying to soothe her, listening to her sobbing, feeling so helpless, knowing she felt so lost, and unable to do more than hold her, at one point she began to repeat over and over how she had failed. Failed at marriage, failed at keeping the relationship with the love of her life together. My response to her was, "You haven't failed, it wasn't just you, it was the both of you, it was the circumstances you found yourselves in, it was a long history of inner angst inside both of you, it was his alcoholism." She didn't listen to me then. Just as I can't seem to now when someone tells me I wasn't alone, I wasn't the only one who failed.

What she finds the hardest thing of all to reconcile herself to, is she will never find what she and her first husband had in their first ten years together. They were a team, they meshed, they wanted the same things out of life. Most amazing of all, there was a palpable connection between them from the very beginning. Even when they fought it, the connection was there, even now it is still there. Today, they fight it even harder, they can only allow their anger to lead them in their contacts with each other. As alcohol and drugs took over, all but that ended as well. Their mutual dreams ended. Even their dreams for their daughter ended in many ways. Three lives FUBAR. Same story as so many others, only the details are different.


I was told today that I am grieving, that I will continue to grieve, there are years of grieving ahead of me. I was told I must live through all of the stages of grief. Fully dive into them, allow them to overwhelm me, to ride the grief out until I am wrung dry. Only then will I feel the healing power of real tears. The healing power of saying that final goodbye.

I am not ready yet.

I am two women.

I am the rational woman who knows there were many reasons her marriage became a magnifying glass that enlarged only our faults. A woman who knows it takes two to make or break a marriage. A woman who knows she made the only decision that could be made. A woman who would have only sunk deeper and deeper into depression, failure, guilt, and fear if she had not made the only choice she had left for the salvation of herself.

But, I am also the irrational woman who doesn't want to face her failure, the years and years of failures and fears. Who feels guilt filling her very marrow. Who is unable to open up completely to the pain of ending the one thing that was supposed to last forever.

It took me so many years to admit we would not grow old together, it was a hope that lasted longer than it should have. A hope that we would both eventually reach a truce between our two personalities, a hope we could create a cease fire zone, to find a mutually acceptable peaceful loving coexistence. A hope that we would find within each other the person we thought we once loved. Alas, it didn't happen, won't happen, could never happen.

So I keep reminding myself, I don't feel lonely anymore. I don't feel the deep abiding loss I felt for so many years. Maybe I am grieving, but it is not a new grief, it has been with me for over ten years. I believe I have already been through some of the stages, I think most of the denial is gone, the anger and resentment, but there is so much more I have to feel first before I can truly feel whole again.

For a time long ago he was my best friend, for an even longer time he was my ICE. I still miss that.

Small Things Can Make A Difference

The band, Five for Fighting, is generously donating $0.49 to Autism Speaks each time the video, “Change Her World,” is viewed. The funding goes toward research studies to help find a cure. When you have a moment, please visit the link above to watch the video and pass it along to your friends and family.

Thank you.


PS. More Puppy Photos here!

Feeling Fuddled

For quite some time now I have felt I have been on a journey. All the while with a simple destination in mind, knowing the trails I travel can be long, and winding. Knowing that I will occasionally arrive at a dead end and have to turn around. But, there are days when the paths I travel seem to become lost in a deep misty fog. I cannot do more than grope along, my hands outstretched feeling my way along, almost lost...but not quite. I have discovered this need within myself to try to live each day as joyfully as I can, and still have the feeling that I accomplished something...whatever my definition of accomplishment is for the day.

There are days when I blithely skip along the pathways, simply seeking to achieve a sense of balance in my life, happy with the various roles that make up my life: mother, social worker, friend, sister, aunt, cousin, daughter, lover, soon-to-be-exwife. Often knowing I am not quite there, but making the attempt with the hope that I will find the balance I seek.

Then one day I wake up and realize...no matter how perceptive I sometimes feel...there are times when the many people in my life befuddle and bewilder me. I listen, I observe. Out of love, caring, or friendship I attempt to give to them the aspects of myself I am able to. I want to be there for them...in whatever they need and I can provide.

But there are times, I end up mired in confusion.

People.

People...CONFUSE ME...at times it doesn't bother me one iota, what is...is. Good, fine, happy me and hopefully happy them.

But there are days when people just plain...CONFUSE ME.

Pets.

Pets are easy.

You give them all the things they need. A clean place to live (fishbowl, cage, bed, house), food and water, medical care as needed, love and attention, and that's it...simple. We provide a clean, attentive, loving environment for them and they seem happy, content, healthy.

But people...REALLY...REALLY...REALLY...CONFUSE me!

Maybe I am just tired. Tired of being a mother, ready to live alone, ready to move on to the next phase of my life...

or maybe...

It's really me, I confuse me.

Mary Jane

As a mother, as a parent, I have reached a bit of a conundrum in the parenting of my children.



I have tried extremely hard to be a loving, responsible parent. To teach my children my values. Through out their lives, I have tried to model behavior that I consider morally sound. I have attempted to teach them to be honest, open-minded, responsible human beings, and to be trustworthy. I have tried to teach them to live life with integrity, to give respect, and to expect respect. I have tried to teach them to have empathy for all living things, to value themselves and others, to welcome the diversity of our world, and to abide by the majority of societal rules. I have tried to impart to them the importance of curiosity, and a lifetime spent learning is a life well-spent. I have tried to model and impart the message, of giving of themselves to their community, and the world as a whole. I have tried to teach them we each have a purpose in this life, we may not always know exactly what it is, but a life well-lived will accomplish that mission. There are so many other things I have attempted to teach them.

I know I have not been completely successful, but whether it was my influence, or just who they each are, I do hold them both in high regard as human beings, (aside from my love for them), and not just because they are my children. Of course I have suffered disappointments in some of the choices they have each made. They have also been disappointed in me. That is a part of being human, this is one of the few things I do know.

And yet...

They both break the law, on a fairly regular basis.

They both drink alcoholic beverages, one has a tendency to binge drink and is underage in our state as well, she only drinks when she wishes to get drunk. The other is of legal age, and imbibes for the slight "buzz" effect, as he does not really enjoy the after effects of over indulgence. They are also genetic products of generations of alcoholism (on both sides of the family), and other predilections to addictions. So I have continually warned them they must be ever vigilant in their use of alcoholic beverages. I, and their father attempted to model responsible alcohol consumption, until 2 years ago my children never, I mean never, saw me drunk, in fact it had been over 20 years since I had allowed myself to indulge to the point in which I felt intoxicated. As young children, they saw their father drunk once, and may not have realized he was, since I sent him to bed. They have never, and will never (OK, I know, never say never, it could happen in some unforeseen circumstance someday) seen me drive if I have had more than 3 glasses of wine, or more than two mixed drinks in less than 3 hours. This doesn't seem so bad does it? Most adults, most parents, expect their children to at the very least experiment with alcohol.

But...

Several months ago, I found out they both also indulge in the use of marijuana to create an elevation of mood. When I learned this, I was of two minds on the matter. As a parent, I do not wish my children to participate in any illegal activity.

As a loving mother who knows they are not going to refrain from "catching a buzz", I would prefer they partake of "weed" vs. "booze". I have talked to them about this subject multiple times. So they know exactly how I feel.

What to do? I have ended up condoning their illegal behavior, while imparting the message that it is illegal, and not a smart activity to participate in. I tell them, they can have a wonderful time just allowing themselves to set their spirits free and enjoying the moment without the use of any substance. They both agree with this, as they have experienced it. Yet, they also get high on occasion.

When I compare the two drugs, I always reach the conclusion that alcohol is much much worse than the other.

Have you ever heard of anyone overdosing on Marijuana? Have you ever heard of anyone's behavior being so out of control when only high on Marijuana that they were immediately under suspicion for public intoxication? Have you ever heard of a car accident occurring while someone is strictly under the influence of Marijuana (almost always alcohol is involved as well, plus drug testing has not reached the level to know exactly how long it has been since someone partook). Have you ever heard of someone's personality being drastically altered while under the influence of Marijuana...i.e. become angry, argumentative, and battering someone? Even an over abundance of caffeine in a person's system can make them so jittery they become excessively irritable, but I have never witnessed the same effect in someone who is high from weed.

Of all the mind altering/mood altering substances available I can think of none safer. Marijuana is even safer if ingested in food, or drunk in a tea...thus no negative effects from inhaling the smoke.

Sooo, I continually ask myself, am I a bad parent? I do not smoke with them. They do not smoke in my presence. Yet, I do not get angry, nor do I exact a punishment when I know they are stoned, or have been recently.

And yet, I cannot ignore the fact that it is illegal. If they were to be arrested for possession, it would be on their permanent records. It would follow them through out their lives. It can effect whether they are offered a job or not, whether they are offered scholarships. Last year about this time, Miss Daughter was arrested for underage drinking and public intoxication, she received what I would deem a light slap on the wrist, 60 days probation, 2 drug tests, attendance of an eight hour anti-drug educational program, and 30 hours of community service. If she had been arrested for drug use, it would have been so much worse.

Then there is the fact that if other parents, or, 'the authorities' (including their father), found out that I do not tell them using Marijuana is bad, I become judged as a neglectful parent. A bad influence on them.

*******

Hours spent googling the subject only validated my beliefs that the only real harm in occasional use is that it is usually smoked and the fact it is illegal.

Marijuana Overdose
There is no existing evidence of anyone dying of a marijuana overdose. Tests performed on mice have shown that the ratio of cannabinoids (the chemicals in marijuana that make you high) necessary for overdose to the amount necessary for intoxication is 40,000:1.

For comparison's sake, that ratio for alcohol is generally between 4:1 and 10:1. Alcohol overdoses claim approximately 5,000 casualties yearly, but marijuana overdoses kill no one as far as any official reports.

Brain Damage
Marijuana is psychoactive because it stimulates certain brain receptors, but it does not produce toxins that kill them (like alcohol), and it does not wear them out as other drugs may. There is no evidence that marijuana use causes brain damage. Studies performed on actual human populations will confirm these results, even for chronic marijuana users (up to 18 joints per day) after many years of use.

In fact, following the publication of two 1977 JAMA studies, the American Medical Association (AMA) officially announced its support for the decriminalization of marijuana.

In reality, marijuana has the effect of slightly increasing alpha-wave activity in your brain. Alpha waves are generally associated with meditative and relaxed states, which are, in turn, often associated with human creativity.

Memory
Marijuana does impair short-term memory, but only during intoxication. Although the authoritative studies on marijuana use seem to agree that there is no residual impairment following intoxication, persistent impairment of short-term memory has been noted in chronic marijuana smokers, up to 6 and 12 weeks following abstinence.

The Gateway Effect
Marijuana use has not been found to act as a gateway drug to the use of harder drugs. Studies show that when the Dutch partially legalized marijuana in the 70's, heroin and cocaine use substantially declined, despite a slight increase in marijuana use.

If the stepping stone theory were true, use should have gone up rather than down. In reality, it appears that marijuana use tends to substitute for the use of relatively more dangerous hard drugs like cocaine and heroin, rather than lead to their use.

Bibliography:
http://www.druglibrary.org/schaffer/library/mjfaq1.htm
http://uncletaz.com/marijuana/marieff.html
http://www.cannabisculture.com/articles/2298.html
http://www.reallyneatstuffalaska.com/overdosevictims
http://www.safercolorado.org/safer-doc
http://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/00001143.htm
http://www.druglibrary.org/schaffer/hemp/general/mjeff1.htm
http://www.druglibrary.org/schaffer/Library/studies/cu/cu56.html
http://www.druglibrary.org/schaffer/Library/studies/Inhemp/ihmenu.htm
http://www.passyourdrugtest.com/mjlaws.htm
http://www.passyourdrugtest.com/timetable.htm
http://www.askmen.com/sports/health/20_mens_health.html
http://www.nida.nih.gov/Infofacts/marijuana.html
http://alcoholism.about.com/od/pot/a/effects.htm
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9E0CE0DA123AF93AA15752C0A9649C8B63

Small Slices of a Life

Last night the story of one of my client families began to play through my mind once again. And, I realized something. Every job I have ever held involved my being given small or large story slices of someone else's life. I've always worked in a service industry of one sort or another. My first few jobs were in restaurants, then I worked as a receptionist, my senior year in high school I moved to the retail sector. In my first few jobs, there was little to learn about the people I served, little time was spent with the customer, but I was privy to small slices of their lives even so. As I left high school and entered university, the three jobs I then held involved more and more information from those I served.

The last job I worked after I graduated university, before I became a stay-at-home mother, was in commission furniture sales. On a superficial level one would think I would learn very little of my customers. But it is either my personality style, the people I dealt with, or possibly because of the nature of their purchases (fairly big ticket items), I would be exposed to little snippets of their lives.

More than 20 years have passed since I worked in sales, but, there are a few customers I will always remember.

The family living with AIDS is one that stands out, a young couple in their early 20's with a new baby. It was the mid-80's and not a lot could be done yet to halt the progression of the disease, the young mother had contracted AIDS from a blood transfusion, at the time I met them, they did not yet know if their baby was HIV positive or not. (I learned later he wasn't). There was a strong aura of sadness emanating from them, but also so much love.

Husband and wife, both knowing she was not long for this world, were attempting to furnish their home in a style that would leave some of her personality behind for their child to absorb after his mother was gone. Each item they chose was chosen for more than just the purpose it was designed for. Each item chosen held a future story in it, stories a dying young mother needed to create for her son, stories filled with love and hope for the future. I watched the three of them wander through the room displays, listened as she spoke of their future, her husband's and son's. She appeared so peaceful to me, she had accepted her fate, and was moving past it. I admired her for that. I think of father and son from time to time, wondering how their lives turned out, I remember reading the young mother's obituary a few years later, her son would be in his early 20's himself now.

Another story that should have taught me the value of open communication involved a father and teen-aged son who came into the store one week before Christmas. They wanted to purchase a new sofa as a surprise gift for their wife/mother. A sale I tried to discourage. As we wandered from sofa to sofa, I listened as neither father or son could agree on what Wife/Mom would like. More and more, I began to feel a sense of foreboding, putting myself in the place of Wife/Mother. I attempted to point out to father and son, that perhaps this woman in their lives needed to have her own say in something so long lasting. An item such as a sofa can make a statement about the people who live in the home. But the husband insisted his wife would be very happy with anything he picked out. He was very sure she would be elated on Christmas morning to find a new sofa sitting in her living room. I was quite reluctant to write up the order,and set up delivery to a brother's house. (They planned to wait until Wife/Mother fell asleep on Christmas Eve, and then replace the old sofa with the new.)

Of course it was only a few days after Christmas when I received the expected phone call from Wife/Mother, hoping she could exchange the sofa. She really detested the one they had picked out, yet she felt guilty that she was so unhappy with it. Upon the family's return to the store, I could see, hear, and feel their stress. The gift of the sofa had been a very big deal to the husband. The gift was a different kind of big deal to Wife/Mother. She was extremely grateful for the gift, but it was also something that she had to live with for many many years. Not an easy thing to do when you abhor the thing you have to look at every day.

As they toured the sofas on display, the bickering began. It started with little snide remarks. Then stories of past disagreements began to emerge, stories that involved comments that began with, "You always....", or " You never....". I do not remember how things were eventually smoothed over, no matter how much I tried to distance myself, I was continually being brought into the argument, each wanting me to take their side. Eventually a compromise was reached, and the new sofa was delivered to their home. I have always wondered if there was a continual feeling of discord over the sofa. Maybe not though, maybe they decided to discharge the negativity surrounding the gift, and initiate* it into their home, thus it could then be an object that exhibited good vibes for them. (Maybe, I should have suggested such an initiation ~grin~)
As I thought of these two families, and several of the others I remember, I realized, I have always dealt with the emotions of others, always been in some sort of position in which I learned some of the more intimate details of strangers lives, more detail at times than I needed to know.

Which brings me to the area of social services I worked in before my current one. As an educator on child abuse, I heard even more stories, sometimes horrendously appalling stories of abuse and neglect, from adults and children, mostly from the children though. Stories that in many cases left me feeling helpless because there was little I could do to aid or remedy their problems. I was often a catalyst for change though, many times that change created hostile feelings toward me when a secret was outed, one I was obligated to report, but hopefully the change became positive in the long run.

In the area of work I now follow I am even more involved in peoples lives. Sometimes more deeply than I would like, sometimes less. There are still many instances when I feel helpless, sometimes I know all I can do is be that listening ear, or be the objective outsider who can offer up various options they may wish to consider.

There are so many stories, stories of lives filled with stress, sadness, strife, poverty, sickness, fear, addictions, stories filled with so much need. Some very bizarre stories, some "that could be me someday" stories, stories I know will not have a happy ending. Most of the stories are filled with hope though, there is almost always hope.

One current story I can't seem to stop pondering every once a while involves a couple that became my clients back in October, Mr. and Mrs. W, each of them disabled and needing help with various aspects of their lives.

When I first met them their story seemed quite similar to many others I have heard. But as I spent more time with them, some significant differences became quite apparent.

I have only met with them three times, all in all spending approximately seven hours with them.

At beginning of first meetings with clients I always begin by asking basic demographic questions, such as birth dates, social security numbers, medical diagnoses, medications, and the like. It is only after they become easier in my presence, after I become more comfortable with them that I begin to receive more in depth information.

As the first meeting with Mr. and Mrs. W entered the third hour, I learned they had only been married three years. I became curious, I would have sworn they had been married for years, I asked how they had met.

It became one of those stories in which I had to suspend my disbelief. One of those stories in which no matter my own personal opinions regarding religion and God, I had to be open to the possibilities of their view of their reality.

Mrs. W did most of the talking, and as she began to speak of their meeting a certain timbre became very apparent in her voice. There was love, so much love, but also awe.

It seems a few months before they met she had finally reached that lowest point in the life of one who is mentally ill and an addict some reach. A point in which she knew if she did not make some serious life choices she would soon be dead. Her cure was religion, she became a born again Christian. She spent quite a bit of time with the pastor of her new church home, reviewing her life, learning new ways to live. She soon made the decision to move back to the city of her youth hoping to start anew in an environment that held some feelings of safety for her.

Mrs. W's story:

"At the last meeting with Pastor M, after we said a final prayer together, he told me that I would meet the love of my life soon. He even described him to me. He would be older, have brown eyes, and a long silver beard. He would be waiting for me."

"One day as I was leaving my new apartment building, someone held the door open for me, I didn't even look at the person, not at first. Then I heard this voice whisper in my ear, "He's the one, he's the one." I looked up, and there he was, Mr. W, this man with such warm brown eyes and a long silver beard. I just stood there, staring, just looking at him. Then I asked him to have coffee with me."

It seems Mr. W was waiting for her too, as only a month before, soon after he had also become a born again Christian, he prayed for a "good Christian woman" to enter his life, one he could make his wife, his life partner.

Mrs. W stated they immediately felt drawn to each other. That cup of coffee became several. They spent long, long hours talking over those cups of coffee. They spoke of their beliefs regarding all aspects of life, they spoke of their pasts, the mistakes and joys, they spoke of their hopes for the future. Exchanging information about their lives they would never have told another person on first meeting. Yet, she said, they felt an immediate bond.

They quickly became fast friends. Living in the same apartment building they were also able to spend quite a bit of time together. Eventually they both decided they wished to become more than friends. Mrs. W then spoke of their first "real" dinner date. Mr. W had invited her over to his apartment for dinner. She described how he had set the stage for a warm romantic evening, the many candles he had burning, the softly muted music playing in the background, the ambrosial taste of the meal he had prepared for her. An evening spent in the company of one who seemed to "get" her, with someone she seemed to "just get". Upon leaving his apartment that evening, they exchanged their first kiss, in her words --"It wasn't even a deep kiss, just a light touching of the lips"--"It was the first kiss I ever had that left me weak in the knees."-- Mrs. W's voice was filled with amazement as she described her walk down the hall, she said her gait was unsteady, she was bumping into the walls, feeling as if she was intoxicated. She doesn't remember the reaching her apartment door. But finally she was there, and was unable to put her key in the lock. Mr. W had watched her leave, became worried as he watched her weave and bump down the hall, he was there ready to help her as she dropped her keys in the attempt to unlock the door. They kissed one more time before she entered her apartment. She was "blissfully smitten". They were married not long after.

There is more to their story, things that add a slightly different dimension to their story than my average clients. Mr. W was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease a few months ago, but that doesn't explain his lifetime of visions. For much of his life he has entertained visitors from "the other side", most of his visits are from a daughter who passed away many years ago. The last visitation he had from his daughter, was one in which she had a very important message for him. During that visit she told him he would have a stroke very soon (which he did have a week later). Mr. W. said she told him , he and Mrs. W's lives would become drastically different, as he had been the healthier of the two, he had been his wife's caregiver, but that would have to change after his stroke. And, even though Mrs. W was ill herself, she would be able to care for him, and he would still be able care for Mrs. W, they would lovingly care for each other. Mr.W. said it was important to his daughter that he know this.

Aside from several physical illnesses, Mrs. W also has a mental illness, a form of Dissociative Identity Disorder --multiple personalities--. She has been married 4 other times, much of two of those marriages she says she does not remember. She has been on the streets homeless, she was abused as a child, raped as an adult, addicted to drugs and alcohol, violated physically and mentally dissociated throughout most of those years. But strongly states she has not had any difficulties with disassociating since finding God, and meeting Mr. W.

As I wrote earlier, there is much of their story in which I have to suspend my disbelief. For who am I to say what they believe to be true is wrong? I cannot prove it or disprove it. They are kind loving good people. Two people filled with hope, love and a very strong faith in their God. That seems to be what they need. That seems to work quite well for them. It seems I (or at least the government programs I represent) are an answer to their prayers as well.

I do find it rather odd to combine what I know of evangelical Christianity, with some of Mrs. W's other practices. On my last visit, she was just finishing up having her future read by a Tarot reader, and when I asked about it, she said it gave her strength to know what was in store for her in the future. She then told me I have been in her prayers for the past few months, and that a blessing was going to enter my life soon. (The puppies? Are they my blessing? I am fascinated, spending hours watching them grow and change every day. Right now they are a blessing, although in a few weeks that will change when they become 8 little poop machines...)

In the details of the stories I have heard over the years, there are many ways people find hope. Many different realities I suppose. We each search for answers that will aid us. Some of us may call what Mr. and Mrs. W believe blind faith, some call it escaping from reality, some call it...other things. The way I look at it, whatever they believe, as long as it causes no harm to anyone, and it gives them hope, strength, and a sustaining faith in life itself, then it's OK with me.

~A little bit of a blogging topic offshoot~ But, and this is a very strong but...I also have to unequivocally state, when someone attempts to force their beliefs on me, or anyone else for that matter, or, it causes harm to others, then I do have a problem with it.

In our world, throughout the history of mankind, there has been, is, and will continue to be a lot of injustices done...Mankind has fought wars, taken up arms against others for many reasons--territorial greed, hunger, economics, lust for power, defense against external and internal threats, or religious zeal.-- But no matter how much I read, or, how many sociologists, ethnologists, or anthropologists wish to point out religious and cultural differences, I find it difficult to believe that deep down almost everyone all over the world doesn't hold the wish for peace to occur between us all.

Sharing the stories of life, one person, one slice at a time, has to be one of the answers to accepting our fellow brothers and sisters of the world as...just like us...only different.

"Responsibility does not only lie with the leaders of our countries or with those who have been appointed, or elected to do a particular job. It lies with each of us individually..."

~HH the Dalai Lama~

*made love on it

A Ramble on Emotional Truth

Today I had to stop by my old home to speak with Miss Daughter. As I was pulling out of the drive, I saw Soon-to-be-ex coming out of the tractor shed. A smile lit up inside me. I was happy. Happy because I didn't have to be there. Happy that I had a place free of the oh-so-very-negative atmosphere I had lived in for so very long.

My current home does not even closely resemble what one would describe as a "dream home". It is just an old worn out mobile home that has seen better days. It needs repainted, a new front door, and so many other things. I left all of my furniture at the old house, so we make do with furniture that is one step up from being ready for the trash heap. But this home, my home, has something my old home hasn't had for years and years. It is a home that contains an ambiance of contentment, of happiness, and ease. There is joy, smiles, and laughter more often than negative words or emotions. Even when we are all cranky, ready to throttle one another, underneath it all is laughter waiting to bubble forth. My dreary looking little home, is anything but dreary on the inside.

As the day wore on, I didn't spend much time contemplating that earlier feeling of contentment, I was busy cleaning, and, running errands. But, this evening on my way home I had the radio on. My usual stations weren't satisfying me, so I turned to a Country and Western Station.

Timing is everything sometimes.

I heard the song Broken Wing by Martina McBride, I don't recall ever listening to it before.


~Broken Wing~

She loved him like he was
The last man on Earth
Gave him everything she ever had
He'd break her spirit down
Then come lovin' up to her
Give a little, then take it back

She'd tell him about her dreams
He'd just shoot 'em down
Lord he loved to make her cry
"You're crazy for believin'
You'll ever leave the ground"
He said, "Only angels know how to fly"

And with a broken wing
She still sings
She keeps an eye on the sky
With a broken wing
She carries her dreams
Man you ought to see her fly

One Sunday morning
She didn't go to church
He wondered why she didn't leave
He went up to the bedroom
Found a note by the window
With the curtains blowin' in the breeze

And with a broken wing
She still sings
She keeps an eye on the sky
With a broken wing
She carries her dreams
Man you ought to see her fly

With a broken wing
She carries her dreams
Man you ought to see her fly

* * *

As I listened, I remember thinking...A year ago this song would have made me so sad, even six months ago this song would have made me cry. I would have been thinking...this has been my life for so long.

But not anymore. I may not be an angel, but I am ready to fly, so much less fear fills me, I really do feel freer. And once again I remembered how I felt this afternoon.


The lyrics, my earlier feelings of freedom, this juncture in my life...led me to thoughts of emotional messages, how we receive them, and how we give them. Thoughts of how powerful emotional messages can be in determining or shaping our emotional truths. There is a psychological theory based on a philosophical view by Sartre (I think it is Sartre). A viewpoint which intuitively feels right. We are in charge of our emotions, we own them, we aren't controlled by our emotions, we may allow them to control us, but it's a choice we make.

Unfortunately there are people in this world who believe that others control their emotions. What we do or don't do, what we say or don't say, causes them to feel happy, loved, sad, angry, and so forth. Even the way we communicate our emotional responses points it out. We often verbalize our feelings with sentences that begin with, "You made me feel..."

So, yes, I believe I own my emotions. When I feel an emotional response rising within me, it is my thought processes that determine what occurs next emotionally and cognitively.

This led me once again back to my relationship with Soon-to-be-ex. There were decades worth of words, actions, and emotional manipulations directed toward me. All conveying the same message. My actions, my words, my behavior determined how he felt. If I failed him in supplying the necessary responses he felt he needed, then it was my fault he was unhappy. Needless to say, I always seemed to not be able to give the right response, or do the right action, or behave the right way to keep him feeling loved and secure. So, I didn't measure up.

Those are his cognitive/intellectual and emotional truths though, not mine. Not anymore. But after a few years of this constant barrage, I eventually came to believe him. Funny thing...I never thought he was in control of how I felt...but in one sense I allowed him to be. He shot me down, I believed him, instead of what I felt my own emotional truths to be.

So then I started pondering how we internalize our thoughts and compare them to how we are feeling. I have contemplated this before...we have a thought, we emotionalize it, we ride the waves of the emotion to the point the emotion feeds more thoughts. The feelings and the thoughts feed upon each other...until one or the other gains control. It is our choice whether we want to ride that huge emotional wave until it is out of control, or we become cognizant of the direction we are flying off into and decide to take some time out...to seek the basic emotional truth of it all.

When it comes to interacting with others, there are different types of truths. One is intellectual truth, just the facts of the matter at hand. But as a part of the interaction, underlying the intellectual, there is also emotional truth.

One of the hardest things for any of us, is to have our fears, our concerns, our worries dismissed. Being told they are not important, or wrong.

I have been there so many times. Once my thoughts, my beliefs, my emotions and dreams began to be judged and dismissed, I began to question myself. I didn't trust myself anymore. I didn't trust my self-perception, nor my perceptions of others. His emotional truth and my emotional truth were two completely different truths. I soon began to believe that my truth was the false one.

Our feelings matter, they always will, that fact is not going to change, as long as we live, our feelings do matter.

We all bleed. We all know pain. We all know fear. We all feel.

Even though we are in charge of what we do with our emotions, there are times in our lives when we need those feelings acknowledged. There are moments in which we need someone to say, "I know you must feel sad or distressed or frustrated or ..." It is not a time for life lessons to be taught, it is not a time to be judged. It is time when we just need listened to. Simply that. Someone to listen, to give a warm embrace, a shoulder to lean on, we need our feeling validated. It doesn't matter what, when, why, who, or how, not at that moment...we feel it...it is our truth.

When our emotions are acknowledged, something pretty great often happens. Just knowing someone listens, and, accepts how we feel, ends up begetting good feelings, and many times the negative feelings are diminished.

It seems so simple, does it not?

Yet some seem to have a problem with simply listening without voicing their judgments upon us.

We are all so different, unique in so many ways, but we are all also quite similar. In thinking of basic wants, and wishes, I am sure my own are very similar to those of many others.

We all want love, truth, respect, genuineness, sincerity, patience, dignity, compassion, empathy, joy.

We want to be listened to, we want to experience genuine interest. We want to be accepted for ourselves, whoever that self is.

It makes sense to me that we have to give that type of emotional truth to receive it. But, sadly, even though we may give it, we don't always receive it.

Thus a relationship ends.

STRESSED!

**I posted some photos of the past two days on My Serenity..puppy pictures!

After my excitement yesterday, I thought tonight would be an evening I could take an anti-inflammatory for my aches and pains, and just rest. Was I wrong!

Until these past few days, I had not really allowed it to sink in just how distracted I have been, and I am now facing the consequences of some poor choices.

Upon arriving home, I went over to check out the water level on the decks, it is higher than yesterday. The boat house has water in it now, but the mid-level deck is still above water, which is good. In an email, I received several aerial photographs of the flood waters. There is so much land, and so many homes underwater all around me, I assume FEMA will step in soon...at least for my neighbor's sakes I hope so.

Anyway, as I walked back up to the house, I noticed Miss Daughter's bedroom window was wide open, and the front door was partially open too! In addition, I heard quite a distressed sounding mewling coming through the open window. I was perturbed with the kids for leaving the house so open. But, I became even more perturbed when I realized it was my teen visitor from last night and her father who left the house in such a condition. I remembered she had decided to go stay with her sister, and her father was supposed to help her move her things today. The mewling I attributed to the fact I knew she was leaving her cats here, and thought they had been shut up in the bedroom. But as I glanced in the window, I saw Kiko, our dog sitting in the middle of the room. Did she have the cats trapped?

I went inside, set my things to the side, and entered Miss Daughter's room. Glancing around I saw no cats. Kiko just sat there looking up at me. "What's going on Kiko?" That is when I saw the first puppy! Wriggling and crying, then I saw two more in the corner of Miss Daughter's bed! "Oh! Kiko! Now? Do you need some help sweetie?"

I led Kiko to the back room where we had set up a whelping area, and came back for the puppies. I had the three of them in my arms, when I heard more mewling sounds coming from my bedroom...another puppy in there! Four so far, and none being kept warm up against their mother. My adrenalin level shot up, as I started preparing myself for an evening of warming them, and getting Kiko to stay with them.

My mind was racing...they were still damp, so they couldn't have been very old. In fact one still had the placenta attached...that too worried me. Did she lose interest? Not really know what to do? But she had taken care of the first two. I carried the four puppies back to Kiko, cut the cord on the one, and then went to search the two rooms to see if I had missed any. Thankfully, not.

While searching, I had phone calls from a friend, my sister, and my soon-to-be-ex. My sister and friend were concerned about the flooding, I quickly reassured them. And then had a call from soon-to-be-ex wanting to discuss the pre-settlement process. A few weeks ago I had asked for a discovery motion so I would know where we stand financially. He wanted to set up a time to meet, and discuss our options, again angry with me that I had gone through my attorney to do all this. I told him I was a bit preoccupied at the moment, as I had 4 new puppies to deal with, and wasn't quite prepared for their arrival. He was understanding, and asked me to call him later.

As I returned to the whelping room, I encouraged Kiko to lie down so the puppies could stay warm up against her, where they belonged, and do their searching for mother's milk. As I was placing them up against her, I found two more! Cripes! In the brief time period I had been searching, and answering calls she had birthed two more! I spent quite some time with her, petting her and soothing. 45 minutes later, all seemed to be going well. So, I decided to do a little internet research, just to make sure I was confident in the next steps I needed to take if Kiko developed any problems accepting her wee ones.

Within minutes, I heard more distress sounds from the puppies. I went to check in, and found Kiko had herself backed into the corner. The newborns were once again scrambling to find their mother, her warmth and her milk. As I was placing them up against her, I found another one! We are now at seven! (9:50 PM we are up to 8 now!) All look exactly like her so far...black with a white spot on the chest.

I am so stressed...this was worse than being in labor with my children!

All has been quiet for the past 30 minutes...so I know she is following her instincts...but I am almost afraid to go check in again...I don't want to find anymore! This whole thing was a mistake due to Mr. Son not saving money to have her spayed in the summer, and by the time I was ready to take matters into hand myself, it had been too late, she was already pregnant. Sigh.

I keep thinking about the fun they will be, but also the mess, the difficulty of dealing with puppies in the winter time, the responsibility of their care and keeping, in addition I have this ever present niggling fear that we may lose one or more of the puppies. Or, if Kiko should develop an infection, then I have to contend with more Vet bills than just getting them all their first shots.

Once again a learning lesson. I have preached for years about responsible pet care and ownership, now I have a taste of all that I preached against.

Anybody wanta puppy?

BUMPY RIDE

Eight days into the new year...it already seems much longer.

Nothing like living in the Midwest to experience rapid temperature changes.

Last week we faced well below freezing temperatures, and were wading through inches of snow. This week we have had the mildest weather I can remember this early in January, I think the high temp is about 52 fahrenheit as I write this ( 11 celsius), so still warm tonight. By the weekend they are forecasting snow again.

This unseasonably warm weather has not been all pleasant though. Tornadoes hit many locations about 80 miles to north of us last night, and at least two people lost their lives. Here, we are under a flood warning, hundreds of families have had to evacuate their homes. Including many of my neighbors.

I am lucky, I am high enough above the water level that my home will not flood, my neighbors down the road just a quarter mile west are not so lucky, their homes are flooded. We are sheltering three of those flood refugees for the next few days. A teenage girl and two cats. The young girl is doing better than I expected, she has tear stricken moments, but eventually bounces back. Her parents aren't doing quite so well. Her father returned by boat to his home tonight, and spent several hours sitting up high in his living room in the hopes the water would stop rising. It hasn't yet. The river has already broken the previous flood record and as far as I know has not reached its full crest.

I have to say, as sad as I am for my neighbors, I am proud of my children's reaction to their plight. While I was in the city working, they too were working...they helped our neighbors load up and move their furnishings out of their home before the waters filled it.

The dam 20 miles north of me broke today before they opened it up, not sure what they will end up doing about that.

Tonight when I finally got home, (all roads but one are flooded), I changed into some casual clothes and decided to see how high the water was on my decks. It was almost completely dark, but I was astounded that I could see the river already, and I had only taken a few steps out into the yard. As I crossed the road and reached the top deck I could hear the rush of the water going past. The decks are surrounded by trees, so it was much darker there, but I could just make out the water level, and see that one of the largest bank side trees, (it is rooted about five feet above normal water level), was half submerged. The mid-level deck wasn't covered in water yet, so I decided to go down to take some photographs. Big mistake. The wet wooden steps were slicker than the slickest ice I have ever attempted to walk on. I made it down the first three before I fell the first time. My umbrella flew to the east, while my camera flew to the west, and went tumbling over the railing as I slid down the steps on my rump.

I was in a bit of a panic, I could hear the camera as it rolled down the hill, the attached lens cap was clinking against the camera as it tumbled through the wet grass. The camera just kept rolling. I was probably foolish, but I couldn't lose my camera...no way! As I tried to stand up to climb over the railing to look for it, I couldn't get any traction on the wet mossy wood, and I fell again, and again. Finally sliding myself bottom first over the edge of the deck and between the railing, I slid my way down the embankment. It was pitch black by now, but I could see the glow of the camera's power light as it finally came to a stop. As I slid down level with the camera, I realized I should have been at least 15 feet above the "normal" water level, but the camera was lying half submerged in water. Water poured from it as I picked it up. I am soooo hoping it isn't ruined.

Anyway, I grabbed my treasure, wrapped the strap 3 times around my forearm (I wasn't going to lose it again!) and climbed back up the hill, breathing a sigh of relief as I reached the deck. So far so good, it was easier going up than down. But, I still had to climb back up onto the deck to reach the stairs, no way I could have climbed up the much steeper embankment to the road. I made it over the edge of the deck floor just fine. More sensible now, I moved ever so slowly over to the stairs, just as I gingerly lifted my right foot onto the lowest step, down I went again. Oh wow, that hurt big time! Trying to stop my fall, I had thrown my body forward and landed shins first against the edges of the two bottom steps. Reaching up to grab the railing, I once again pulled myself up, and promptly fell again! Pulling myself once more to a standing position, I grabbed both hand rails, and with very deliberate, extremely slow steps I once again attempted to climb the steps, I made it, slipping and sliding, but I finally made it to the top.

Then the pain hit me...I ached and stung all over. Moaning and groaning I walked back up to the house as I sadly listened to the water dripping from my camera. Once in the house I took apart my camera, setting all the pieces out to dry, and examined my poor battered body. My shins are covered in lumps and bruises, the skin on my right hip is torn, and bruised as well. Somewhere along the way I strained my right thumb, and have small aches all along my right arm. I am one huge aching mess. But, compared to so many others I am one lucky woman, I am warm and dry inside my home.

But...ya'know...it really doesn't pay to act before you think!

Good Fortune in The New Year

If one is superstitious and wants to bring all that is positive into the New Year, you should have accomplished or accomplish, the following sometime yesterday, last night, and today.





December 31st or before: Have paid all of your bills that were due, taken out the trash and recyclables, because you mustn't do it on New Years Day, make sure all the wallets (purses for you Brits) in the house were filled with cash, have new clothes ready to wear on January 1, and stocked up the kitchen cupboards. Before the clock struck midnight all of the doors to the house should have been open, a tall dark-haired man bearing gifts should have been ready to knock at the door right after the stroke of midnight (do not let in a unibrowed blond/red-headed woman with crossed eyes and flat feet!).

The Magic Hour: At the stroke of midnight, a loved one should have been nearby and kissed. As the minute hand began its forward movement you should have made as much noise as possible. No one should have left the house until the tall dark-haired man knocking at the door was let into the home, whom was greeted effusively, guided throughout the house, and let out another door. Lastly you should have followed him outside to check the wind direction.

New Years Day: One should do the following, have an abundance of prepared food, which should not include any type of poultry, in fact 'tis best if you eat pork, lentils, black eyed peas, cabbage or collard greens (wondering does spinach count?),do a little bit of your work --but not too much--. Wear new clothes. Also one must avoid crying or breaking anything throughout the day.

Wanta know why you should do all of those things?

Go here!






:-)