You would think today I would have an opinion of a certain party and an inauguration.
I do, of course, but, it’s not foremost in my mind.
My mind is endlessly thinking of a woman I love.
The woman I connected with and understand.
The woman fighting stage 4 cancer.
Thing is … As much as I don’t edit myself with people, I don’t with her either.
When she was well, she never co-signed my bullshit. And I SO appreciated that!
Got to talk to her tonight.
I think she finds it refreshing. No platitudes. Just “So, what the heck? What do they say?” No “I’m praying for you.”
But I am.
To the God I don’t believe in.
I do like to keep it real and then SHE gets to keep it real with ME!
I get the full Monty, no editing.
And I get to ask again the questions other people avoid.
I love her too much not to know.
I love her too much not to be myself, and walk on eggshells. ‘Healthy her’ would HATE that!
Don’t get me wrong, I have bawled my eyeballs right out … Put them back in and ‘Amanda’d’ up!
Because, while I can be honest, and handle her honesty, I still have a very sick friend and it tears me up inside.
Next time I’m in line at the bank and people are bitching, I’ll say, not my usual, but “You realize, I have a friend that can’t even STAND UP and would give ANYTHING to be waiting in this fucking line!”
Don’t doubt it.
I’ll do it!
I mentioned in the video that I’ve shared down the post two days off in addition to the weekend.
This matters people!
Usually, my days off are because
A) A handy man is coming to fix something and I must be here to maintain peace between him/her and the dog.
B) Someone is sick, and it’s not me.
C) Something else has broken and I’m waiting for either a tow truck or another handyman.
D) I am picking someone up from the airport.
The last ‘vacation’ I can remember is when Nic was small. Well, he’s at least 6 foot now, so anything under that.
So I took a ‘Staycation.’
And when I ‘STAY’ I mean just that. That’s what I want to do! What I’ve NEEDED to do for a while. Nap, snack, binge watch shows, cuddle, nap some more.
I couldn’t even do THAT!
I’ve got one day remaining now – and Sunday, I did laundry as usual – and before I felt like I could chill out with no guilt, I had the kitchen rug/very large rug/carpet outside.
Cleaned the stove within an inch of its life.
Was defrosting fish for fish tacos.
Fixed the piece of house that came off in our bonkers monsoon wind – nails in my mouth – hammer in hand. (Yes, I’m a contractor now)
Cleared the ‘we don’t have a shed anymore’ porch so we don’t look MORE like trailer trash.
Polished all the “I drive too fast on the dirt road next to this house” (NOT ME) dust off of our surfaces.
Bottom line – I don’t feel like I get to chill out until I’ve earned it.
This was contagious. My poor honey, after pouring himself a cup of coffee must have felt guilty too – and cleaned our bedroom.
We still had the bathrooms to do.
And all I wanted to do was get goofy!!!! And know that I have NO alarm tomorrow or the next day.
And I freaking COULDN’T! Not until everything was done.
WHY is it that we women – and I’m not leaving you guys out of this – although … (lol)
WHY is it we women can’t chill until everything is done???????
This is HUGE! A 4 day weekend.
And there I was already planning my fun bathroom cleaning ride. lol. I’ll get a Disney fast pass and get that done so I can watch a movie without guilt 😉
*tangent – did you know, that in ‘admin’ mode you can put a post in trash and all it takes is one poke (if you have a touch screen – I assume this is the same for keyboard, however, fingertips are more unforgiving than cursors. No “Are you sure?????”) I call BS. Because, if you want to edit, you have to go through WP hoops, ok, maybe just confirming the edit. But, DELETING an entrire post? Yeah, ok, GONE! lol) Why am I mentioning this? Hmmmmm ….. let’s take a wild guess.
So now, my honey has stopped drinking coffee and having a beer.
Then my son and his girlfriend stopped by to bring by more fish/fish tank ‘stuff’ (that kid does NOT need anymore pets!) But, I got to make a video with my son’s girlfriend:
She so underplayed her merits. She is SUCH an amazing, goal oriented, studious woman. And, let’s face it, she has great taste in men.
I had such a problem with ‘her’. HOW DARE SHE???????
How dare she love my son?
How dare she know levels of my spawn that I didn’t?
(I mean intellectually and emotionally – c’mon now)
Well, guess what?
I adore her. And it was SO hard to even imagine him not ‘needing’ me or not being the center of his universe.
And now, I’m just so happy for the two of them.
And for me.
Because I have an amazing future husband – an amazing son and maybe – just maybe, an amazing future daughter-in-law.
Life is good.
And tomorrow, we’re going to do a family outing to see some burros and have lunch. Trust me – it’s 6:33 p.m. and I JUST took a shower, so getting me to agree to this whole ‘leaving the house’ thing was difficult.
But I’m doing it. Because family is important. And while staycations are fun, they don’t make many memories – but they sure do unwind a tense person.
I’ve officially integrated with the herd. I have become an accepted member of the Sunday morning Laundromat gang.
It started out when my face took form of ‘disappointed girl’, upon realizing there were no washers available, in spite of the fact I arrived 10 minutes before the establishment opened.
But there was my glaucoma man. (Who I learned later actually had cataracts.)
I stood chatting with him, asking how his eyes were. He then motioned to the machine he was leaned up against. “This one is empty” Almost a whisper, but he is not capable of ‘whisper’.
I grabbed the machine, then, in the interest of having my laundry finish at the same time, had to use a more expensive ‘triple load’ machine across the aisle from it.
There were two ladies sitting at a table next to it, and another familiar face.
The familiar face was introducing the newbie to the flow of the place.
“Pretty much the same people,” he said, “This lady here, gave me a band-aid one day.”
I was the lady.
I don’t know why, but that filled my heart. He remembered.
He went on to explain he takes blood thinners. And as I listened to them chatter, I filled the machine and felt like I belonged.
Here’s cataract man and one of the ladies.
I’ve been coming here for 4 years, it really is quite a victory to be told about secret available machines and to be remembered for a good deed.
My favorite part of this trip though, has to be placing my loves clothes in the washing machine. Knowing he left things behind on purpose.
I’ll be washing for three not long from now. And I couldn’t be happier about that.
My herd has my back, my family is growing – and I’m blessed beyond belief!
Oh, and you’ll be pleased to know, cataract mans eyes are finally feeling a lot better after his surgery. Pretty sure you can see that (no pun intended) from the smile on his face.
When I started this blog, I had hoped to have a place to process, purge, sort through such things as matters of the heart, my past and my unedited thoughts.
I started out telling only 2 or 3 trusted friends where to find it – then I went public online and after deciding I only have friends on Facebook that I trust and who know me, I then would share my links.
Mistake? Maybe, maybe not. But definitely I found myself editing.
I haven’t discussed Matters of the Heart – protecting the identity of people in my private life this past year. I haven’t gone deep into my past – protecting the identities of those involved. And I certainly have been editing my thoughts. As if I would feel I owed everyone an apology for having them.
I just can’t do ‘phoney’. I can’t. It eats at my gut and sticks in the forefront of my brain gnawing away at me.
Relatives and acquaintances have told me in so many words, that I think too much. I share too much.
It’s who I am. Who I have always been. Who I always will be.
I think those concerned with me sharing too much are the ones who have shared too much with me.
They needn’t worry. If my story line crosses over to someone else’s, I don’t feel it’s my story to tell.
But when it comes to me and me alone, I have to be authentic.
A friend posted this today and I laughed. So true.
I do love my life.
But find myself editing my statuses too.
I’ve had this self-imposed expectation of myself for a few years, that I can’t be ‘human’.
Always wanting (needing) to do the right thing – making living amends to myself and others for years of wrong choices.
Trying to be some perfect unobtainable example for my son.
I can’t do it anymore.
Not because I am incapable, but because it is not authentic and it is not healthy, spiritually, to deny a facet of me exists.
I am blunt and very forthcoming by nature. It is inherently who I am. If I edit myself, I’m not honoring that part of me. I’m telling myself in a round-about way, ‘that part of you is unacceptable’.
Unacceptable to whom? I’m fine with it. Why am I always worrying about what ‘they’ are going to think?
I seem to in constant battle with myself this past year or so. The care-giver and sensible me shaking her head at every personal desire. “That’s selfish” “That’s wrong” “That’s not putting others first”.
In a quest to be the best me I could possibly be, I left some of me behind.
I am not always happy. I have high-highs and painful lows – I feel to the nth degree and I love that about me!
And – shocking news: I want things. Not material things – but things that would serve to give me pleasure.
I want pleasure without guilt.
I want to be able to say “No.” I want to be able to say “Yes.” Purely based on how I feel about something and not how it effects the person posing the question.
But the battle wages on.
And it’s not a matter of ‘good’ vs ‘bad’ – it’s a matter of acknowledging that I deserve things sometimes too.
That being grateful for what I have and making good choices, doesn’t mean I should ignore the woman inside me who has needs that don’t sustain life.
And that they don’t make me bad.
They make me whole.
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.
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.
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.