Category Archives: My Favorites
Catabolic hearts and Candy Corn pencils
I spent last night with a few tears – and like a child in need of comfort, I also grabbed a blanket and my bear.
Yesterday brought joy and sadness, love and aloneness, hope and fear. And sometimes, it’s all just too much to process.
It wasn’t due to any one thing in particular – things build over time to overflowing and when there is no outlet – blanket and bear come into play.
I joke about saying too much – about not editing myself. But the fact is, I keep so much inside that it hurts sometimes.
You know when someone notices that you’re out of sorts and hugs you? That dam that bursts because of that hug?
I feel like life (and, yes, me too) constantly plugs up my dam with no relief in sight.
When I desperately need a hug.
And to be heard.
And seen.
I posted this on my Facebook wall this afternoon – after a day of feeling unwell physically, but mostly overwhelmed emotionally.
I did this because I felt safe putting it there, I am very selective about who my ‘friends’ are on Facebook. People that know me and ‘get me’ are privy to my mostly quirky, sometimes funny and often odd status updates.
I don’t have friends I don’t trust.
What I really wanted to do was write about it here though. So I’m going to.
I have a lot on my plate and on my mind. A lot weighing on my heart also.
I find it necessary, again, to reiterate that I am a happy person – and a grateful person – and a loving person. And I know what is important in life.
But I am also a human person.
I used to think it was not okay to permit myself to feel my sadness. That I was somehow being ungrateful by doing that.
I know not to wallow in it – not to become melancholic – but it is necessary to feel. Denying myself permission to acknowledge sadness or fears is not healthy. And there is no growth when one does not acknowledge, assess and address a feeling or emotion.
Still, lately I’ve pent everything up. Putting one foot in front of the other and plugging away at life, while I tackled real and imagined problems alone.
The soul has this amazing ability to take a lot of crap from us – but has its limit. I reached mine.
Then I came home to mail.
Real mail.
Not just an envelope either – a small package.
It was from a dear friend in California (she actually taught me how to do what I do for a living over 14 years ago!)
Inside – was this letter, the sweet pencil and a bag of Halloween candy:
Here I was questioning whether I am worthy of love – and I receive this sweet, sweet gift. That she knows me so well – that something reminded her of me – that she made the effort to go the extra mile and purchase the item and tell me that she thought of me … such love.
And to want to feel connected to me.
What a blessing to have such friends.
I’ll take the pencil to work with me tomorrow and put it somewhere I can look at it as a reminder.
And because it touched me so – my heart can’t possibly be in a catabolic state. It’s still capable of processing love.
It’s just scared.
Awake and not naked
Why am I up so early after a restless night? And why am I not naked??
I should clarify, those two thoughts are independent of one another.
I awoke at 1 am having had the strangest dream. It was of an ex of mine. I got up, blurry eyed and off-balance and let the dog out.
Noticed some lightning and thought ‘I’m partially awake, I’ll sit outside and watch nature put on a little show while I wait for the dog.’ So I did.
It’s not uncommon, (she says trying to keep a straight face because it’s ALWAYS) that I’ll have a few tangent thoughts when sitting quietly. (Or while talking to someone, or while working, or while doing the dishes, or while reading.)
I thought about the ex. He’s happily married with children. Most of them are. That pleases me.
I wondered then, am I cursed?? Or, do I have super powers?
When I break up with someone, they end up shortly afterwards finding someone they marry and/or procreate with.
Before I went back to sleep, I considered the possibilities. I should use these powers for good! I could be a professional girlfriend, (wait … isn’t that already a profession?) then break up with that person and TA DA! They could find their ‘happily-ever-after-mate.’
Interesting. Very interesting.
I would have a collection of ‘thank you’ notes in my portfolio along with wedding photos. Eharmony, move over!
The irony is my name, Amanda, means, ‘Worthy of being loved.
Now, onto the naked.
It’s Summer in the desert. It is hot. Even in the middle of the night my air conditioner kicks on with its gentle ‘THUD’.
I sleep in boxers and a tank top …
WHY AM I NOT NAKED??
Nic is in England!
When he is not in England, the reason for my clothed body is that we have a pretty open door policy around here. Only time I shut my door is when I’m going from towel to getting dressed.
There have been plenty of times I’ve gone to bed (or am trying to pee) and my door bangs open and it’s Nic wanting to show me something or tell me something. Since I don’t want him scarred for life, I’ve covered up since he was old enough to be traumatized by seeing his mother naked.
But he isn’t here! And I don’t think the dog cares one way or another … so I’ll put ‘sleep naked you idiot, it’s hot in here!’ on my list of things to do.
I’ll now show that I am capable of tying thoughts together and not just veering from topic to topic, by actually joining the subjects of love and Nic being gone – together.
Can I get a volunteer from the audience?
Nic has been gone for four days now. 4. And the status update I wake to see is “Cheers from England.” AND, he ‘saw’ my instant message but didn’t respond to it!
Guys, do you not realize how much we females read into your unresponsiveness to interaction??
We think about you all the time! We multi-task and can even think about you while running the house, the errands or the world.
Here’s some insight into the female mind. If you haven’t emailed us back, called us back or messaged us, (and it doesn’t matter if you’re a son or a love interest,) we assume the worst. You are either dead or you don’t love us anymore.
And if you don’t email or message or call us for an extended period of time, you had better be dead.
I jest. We love you. We just need to be reassured that you are alive and thinking of us when you’re not with us.
There! I did it! And no tangents!
Oh ….
Musings from the laundromat – Lightning Crashes edition
I sat outside under the night sky last night – feeling the thunder vibrate through me – smelling the rain that did not fall. Lightning flashed in random ‘peek-a-boo’ fashion, making clouds temporarily visible.
And I was contemplating.
Nic goes to England in just 3 days. For a month at least – perhaps indefinitely, if it is to be his path.
I’ve had so much on my mind lately, time slipped by on cat feet. Quickly and quietly.
Just what am I going to do alone with my thoughts? Probably have more of them.
As I stepped inside, ironically, ‘Lightning Crashes’ was being performed acoustically on the tv. Live was providing my thoughts some background music.
As if my thoughts need them.
My internal tangents have theme songs and a cast and crew … lighting and screen writers – production staff and catering. It’s quite heady really. Independent tangents of course, we have a budget you know.
But, a tangent was born. The song reminded me of someone I dated. He was in a band (shocking, I know.) He played the bass and when his band performed that particular song, he would come down from the stage and slow dance with me until he had to join in.
The drums and bass aren’t involved until the end of the 2nd verse of the song – and that is when my dance ended. Then up on stage he would go and I would find my seat.
I seem to have so many stories like that – but no book. So many ‘almosts’ but no ‘ever after’. I’m to blame for most of them, I know. I pushed people and opportunities away. So stubborn. And never willing to settle.
I’ve always had big dreams of what life and love is supposed to be. I still do.
When you’ve seen what I’ve seen and experienced what I’ve experienced, life gets bigger and so does your soul and heart and dreams.
And I still will not settle. I will wait. I will wait for the man with the broken heart and haunted past – who is meant for me.
The first I knew of true love – unconditional, pure love was when I gave birth. They say that will be the case to first time mothers (and fathers.) “The minute you lay eyes on that baby, THEN you’ll know what love is.” ‘They’ were right.
Although, if I’m being honest, when Nicholas Avery Charles was laid in my arms, and when I looked down and said my first word to him “Hi.” I didn’t feel that intense burst of love right away.
I felt like a terrible mother then – wasn’t there supposed to be internal fireworks going on? A sudden and profound new-found feeling of the maternal variety?
I was madly in love with my son when I carried him. I loved every hiccup, every kick. I spoke to him – I caressed my belly and imagined what my baby would look like, what he or she would sound like. I chose not to know the sex of my baby – I found out (obviously) when the doctor announced “It’s a son.”
I missed being pregnant for a little while after he was born. I truly missed it. Perhaps it felt safer carrying him inside of me – where he was alive and mine and protected from the world. I don’t know.
Oh, the postpartum love came. It came like a love tsunami – my heart was filled to overflowing.
I barely let him sleep in his crib at home. I would ‘accidentally’ bump into it so that he would wake up. “OH! Are you awake? Let me hold you.” And for hours I would breathe in the scent of him as he fell back asleep on my chest.
I loved my son with a heart I didn’t know I had.
I would lay down and die for my son if need be.
I would do anything to ensure he has a chance for a life filled with memories, love, hope, dreams and wonder.
And … I would send him away from me.
And I am.
And I hope that he finds those things on his journey. I’m giving him all I have to give, an opportunity. A ticket to see more than his small home town. A chance.
Perhaps years from now, he’ll sit outside as a storm brews and recall this upcoming adventure – lose himself in thought with a smile on his face. Then go back inside of his home and share a story with his family.
Playing with the moon – and cherishing my son
A beautiful moment at close to four o’clock in the morning.
I had let Butters outside, and returned to my room. As I went back to retrieve my cream colored, insomniac manatee/sharpei/shepherd – I bumped into my son coming inside.
We had both remembered the moon.
We sat outside together, listening to the birds – in the dark, and staring up at that gorgeous huge moon. As dark as it was outside, the moon shone like the sun. We spoke of how the sky must have looked before electricity. We spoke of stars and places available to see them in total darkness.
And as we spoke, and sat in awe of that moon, I was filled with such gratitude and love for the relationship I have with my son.
When we both went in, he was wide awake – I got back under my sheets and he came into my room and sat on my bed beside me … “It’s like Christmas …” he said. And it did have that feel to it.
That up-too-early, but full of wonder and leisure feeling.
We parted, but that moment didn’t go unwritten in my memory bank. I love that he chose those words. I love that his memories of being up early and excited and us being together brought that comparison to his lips.
I awoke again at 5:30 and managed to capture the moon on my ‘real’ camera. Then I played with it a little. 😉
My interview with Rainer Höss. Part I
**In honor of Rainer’s book release in Germany, I am reblogging this interview from May. Click on the Amazon link within the interview to purchase the book. There still WILL be a part II to the interview, Rainer has been very busy but things seem to be finding a chaotic rhythm for him lately. On a personal note, congratulations Rainy on the book – I’m so proud to see you holding it! 🙂 **
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It is 3:15 am in Germany as I begin my writing. My friend ‘Rainy’ is sleeping. I miss the ‘ding’ of the email as he shares more and more about his journey, his hopes and his fears.
He is a book I cannot put down – a person I have come to deeply respect and care for in a short time. I do not know what time or even what day it will be in Germany when I finish. Or if I’ll ever be finished.
While it has to be mentioned to make any sense, this post is not going to be about his grandfather, Rudolf Hoess, (Höss, Höß) Commandant of Auschwitz.
It’s not for at least two very good reasons.
1) I am smart enough to know that I am too ignorant on the topic to have the nerve to offer any opinions or insights. There are far too many souls who have been personally harmed. I will not rehash only what is available to me on the internet and in history books. That information can’t begin to afford me the experience to decide how it must have felt, how it must have been. I will not disrespect those who have personally been affected by the holocaust.
2) My intention from day one was to offer Rainer’s story. His story, in my voice.
When I first saw him in a documentary I was immediately pulled into his world.
He cried, I cried. He was nervous standing before a group of students, I was nervous. He looked around the Villa where his father grew up on the grounds of Auschwitz, I was peering around the corners with him.
Rainer outside of the Villa at Auschwitz, where his father lived
So engrossed was I in that documentary, Hitlers Children, that it affected me profoundly.
We all have family secrets … personal shame about something or another and a lot of us must confess to having at least one ‘monster’.
That in mind, I could not fathom the magnitude of bearing the weight of not only having a most well-known ‘monster’ (I have a problem using that word) in my past, but it not being a secret.
Far from it.
Once Rainer shares his last name – the speculation and judging begins.
It is here that I will offer my ever so humble opinion.
We cannot be great people because our ancestors have done great things, so it stands to reason that we cannot be evil if our ancestors have done evil things.
I believe that those in fear, and still suffering, need something tangible to blame. Someone in the flesh to hear their story and to turn their anger on.
And that is not fair. And that is not right.
Rainer has said often he fears he has his grandfathers evil in him, “As if it could be inherited.”
My heart swells and my instinct is to protect – I do not believe for one minute that evil can be inherited. I believe that we choose our own paths and that we are not defined by our forefathers deeds. Or, more to the point, we don’t have to be. Sometimes our circumstances make it harder to take a different route, but it can be done.
As Rainer said to me, “To come to terms with your past, it takes a lot of strength, but it is also worthwhile to confront his demons. Rising to the task, and where there is a will there is a way. Of course, the path is sometimes rocky and hard, and not immediately visible. Giving up is too easy.”
Let me tell you about Rainer Hoess, who chose not to give up.
His favorite color is blue. “I could paint everything blue around me. The blue color gives me a sense of harmony and security.”
He likes to sit outside on his terrace and look at the stars at night, thinking about nothing. Sometimes with one of his cats in his lap.
He loves diving in the ocean, kickboxing, jogging, cycling.
He practices Tai Chi and Chi Gong daily for focus.
He is well-traveled, educated, genuine and loves his family. He often mentions his 4 beautiful children and his two beloved grandchildren.
And yet, in his words, “Often you stand before the mirror in the morning and look at yourself, similarities, comparing yourself with this monster. The worst thing is that you being to ask yourself the question, what I have of him that I do not know yet?”
I argued with him – pointed out how very different he is from his grandfather, from his own father even! But how can I think for one minute I have the right to do that? I am not walking in his shoes.
He went on to say, as we discussed his never-ending research, “I am always deeply penetrated into the psyche of my grandfather and have therefore often put myself in danger.” He was speaking of his health – his obsessive research in an attempt to understand, resulted in 3 heart attacks. He immersed himself in a desperate quest. (Which resulted in this book.)
But Rainer is also a thrill seeker – an adrenaline junky. “It gives me the opportunity to make myself free of these constraints of society. Myself to determine how far I want to go. There is also a kind of therapy to overcome boundaries.”
I think it’s also a vehicle to get out of his own head, if only for a little while – to feel something other than the weight of his ancestry.
Good thing he has a God of his understanding on his side.
Rainer also studied theology in his ‘free time’, “To cover all eventualities in my research and to get answers of my questions”
He went on to tell me, “But in churches I encountered a lot of misunderstanding after my questions. Faith as a shield and excuse for such crimes I cannot accept. And especially the denial of this crime by some churches and their leaders.”
Rainer is not in denial.
Rainer in the barracks in Birkenau
“To me it’s important that my generation had the chance to speak. Because what we have seen and experienced applies to everyone, and not just for descendants of Nazis.”
And speak he does. To students, to survivors. Rainer is on a mission to speak out in hope of understanding, healing and prevention for all who care to listen.
“Many believe what they read in the media, whether it’s true or not. They want to get to know me really the least, because who would gladly look in the mirror of his own soul through me?”
I wanted to look.
And as for the ‘Rainy’ nickname at the beginning. I know Rainer isn’t pronounced like Rain-er in German.
But when I saw the man who was raised to believe “A Hoess does not cry!” shed tears at Auschwitz – I cried along with him.
This morning I said to him,
“I’m glad to know the Hoess that DOES cry.
Tears are cleansing.
Like Rain.”
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(All photographs copyright of Rainer Hoess. Used with permission. All quotes and material is owned by Debauchery Soup/Amanda Hoskins.)
Debauchery Soup 