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Musings from the Laundromat: Friends & Change edition
I’m musing on my notepad since the internet connection is not connecting at the laundromat.
I was thinking on the way over, of change.
It’s amazing sometimes isn’t it, when we look back over the years, sometimes months or even just days and think ‘If I knew then that things would be so different now …”
Then what?
Nothing, that’s what.
You’d end up changing the outcome by knowing what it was supposed to be.
That whole seeing into the future thing is not a good idea.
If you knew a job wasn’t going to work out – you might quit before learning a valuable skill you needed for later.
If you knew a relationship wasn’t going to end up being your ‘forever after’, you might abandon it before experiencing new emotions, or becoming stronger for having made mistakes.
A song was on the radio in the car and it reminded me of someone.
I think about exes from time to time – then I segue off onto wondering if I ever cross their minds.
I hope I do.
They all meant something to me and always will.
So back to change …
Since the start of the year I have now been in 3 different jobs, gone from not knowing what life would be like without the constant that is my son, to living alone lately.
The thing that hasn’t changed, and rarely does, are the friends I have.
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I was surprised to hear a friend was coming to town that I usually only see once a year, usually Christmas time. It was literally Christmas in July to get to see her for dinner Sunday night!
On the heels of ‘friend Sunday’ came ‘inevitable Monday’ and a pretty rough week.
Work is amazing, I love my new position.
The logo I created was delivered and stuck to our freshly painted red wall … I remember the first time I was published and seeing the paper – yeah, it was a little like that.
I’m blurring so much here – but want you to see the logo at least. I assure you, the wall does not look like a horrid smudge of letters.
We’re still figuring out procedures and I’m still on a crash course of figuring out how to do what I do. This I have no problem with. I adapt. I learn quickly, that was no lie on my resume.
My forte is creation. Creation, progression and completion. Love it.
Needless to say though, even a whole day doing your favorite things can be exhausting.
I found myself coming home and sitting on the couch in a hyper-minded/numb-bodied state every evening.
On top of the exhilarating chaos that is the birth of a new company, we had ‘sabotage day’ or ‘Cablegate’ as I am thinking of it now.
Our suite connects to the old company we all worked for. It was sadly closing while we were opening. A very emotional thing to watch.
I get attached to people and routines. After 3 1/2 years, to see the people I care about slowly leaving, while an office that once thrived emptied to nothing but a shell – well, it wasn’t pleasant to say the least.
Our office parties, the holidays we shared, the smell of Thanksgiving turkey, the sounds of laughter – phones ringing, microwaves beeping, deliveries arriving – the hustle and bustle, Gone.
All gone now.
It was down to just the Broker this past week – and a trickling of agents bringing out the last of the items going with them.
One morning I arrived to the news that the keys to the mail box were missing and all the drawers had been left open.
Did I know where they were? No, I did not.
Also the internet was down.
No problem, I told the Broker he could use our WIFI, I would give him the code.
I finally made it into our suite only to discover that our internet was not working either … nor our phones.
The utility closet that houses the cables and technical ‘things’ is located in the old office.
And it was locked.
And that key shared the key chain that had gone missing.
A locksmith was called out and after summoning the internet technicians out too, the long and short of it is that someone had come in the night and left a final ‘F-you!’ for us. (Yes, we have a very good idea who it was – no, we have no proof)
Equipment lay on the floor of the closet and various pieces hung from the wall. Then, discovered hidden in the ceiling, the recently cut wires that connected our suite to the outside world.
The police were called – locks were changed and a temporary fix was made to attach cables to the frayed ends of the severed ones.
Sabotage.
A lot of talk about karma came up. I’m of the mind that anyone angry enough or capable of such a crime already has to live with themselves.
We were back up and running and were not going to let that set-back have anymore power (or lack of) over us than it deserved.
______________________________
Friday arrived and I was ready for a relaxing weekend.
I climbed out of my car, came through my gate and opened the front door.
And was greeted by – silence.
Butters was nowhere to be seen – or heard. And trust me, my hairy manatee is an excitable girl. She wriggles and whines and leaps at my return.
I had locked the door so she couldn’t be out?
Then slowly, a small noise and as I set my purse down, she limped out of my bedroom.
She hadn’t eaten – hadn’t taken a drink from her water bowl. Her tail hung between her legs and she moved gingerly.
I dropped to the floor beside her and started an examination – and to my horror, she let me.
I’ll try to describe her exuberance … I can’t get a leash on her in any time under 20 minutes. Trying to get her to stay still for her collar after a bath is like trying to hold back a herd of children at the Disneyland gates.
And she lay there – letting me probe between her pads for burrs – press her leg to test for warmth or tender spots.
I could see nothing out of the usual.
She then left me to lay in the bathroom. Not limping. (Perhaps she had just been laying awkwardly on it before I got home?) Now she was listless, shivering and unmoving.
I checked her ears, her eyes, her gums, her stomach … all the while wondering “What will I do? How will I afford to get her care??” And telling her – “Don’t you leave me.”
My eyes welled with tears as I reached out to the online community for ideas.
My friend that ‘always knows when to show up’ threw some clothes on and abandoned her Friday night after her own long week, and headed over to be with us.
Butters perked up a little.
“Maybe she’s depressed.” Said my friend.
She had a point.
Life as she had known it had changed too.
From having the run of the yard all day to being shut indoors – and the absence of her boy. Big changes for a little canine world.
Perhaps she was just depressed.
By the time my friend left, she seemed to have perked up. I stayed up with her until after 1 a.m. to be sure.
The next morning she was herself again.
Just like that!
I quickly went to the grocery store returning with lots of dog treats – cleaned the house and just as I finished Butters barked at the front door. (Music to my ears to hear her vocalize by the way.)
In walked my friend holding coffee and polystyrene boxes.
“I brought brunch.”
We sat across from each other and shared half of each box. Butters was treated to some bacon.
“My heart is smiling at my stomach right now,” I said. “This is right up there – top 10 happiest moments.”
And it was.
My dog was okay, my friend had showed up and the food was amazing.
Before she left I added, “You’re her favorite person that comes over.”
“I’m the only person who comes over.”
I had to laugh at that.
Point well made – but things change. Could be in a few months that I don’t even live here anymore.
But I can count on who will walk through my front door.
I can always count on my friends.
And I don’t want to know the future – because I might miss something getting there.
Until next time –
Serving Life
I don’t know if I’m so forgiving because I want to be forgiven.
I don’t know if I’m constantly seeing the good in those deemed ‘bad’ because I’m insightful or because I want to be good.
But I am forgiving and I do see good in bad.
This extends from situations to people.
I watched ‘Serving Life’ on New Years Day and it touched me so deeply – on so many levels.
First I thought about the convicted men.
It breaks my heart when I hear compassionate, intelligent, repentant, very human convicts wishing they could go back and undo their crimes.
That’s someone’s child – who cannot go back and will forever pay for their mistake.
I think about all the people who comment on news stories with such piousness. I know that I have sinned – odds are they have too and how dare they judge another?
How many of those judging a murderer have been party to an abortion? How many didn’t get caught the night they drove home drunk?
I think about a person born into an environment of despair, crime and fear – into a broken family devoid of encouragement, hope or love … what chance did they have?
I’m reminded of some lines from Silence of the Lambs.
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Hannibal: No! He covets. That is his nature. And how do we begin to covet, Clarice? Do we seek out things to covet? Make an effort to answer now.
Clarice: No. We just…
Hannibal: No. We begin by coveting what we see every day …
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We want what we see. We mirror who we know.
We can only do better when we know better. At that point, it’s a choice.
If all you are exposed to is hunger, anger and helplessness – how do you know there is a ‘better’?
Are those seeking an escape from their reality with what they know, crack, heroin … less than those sipping too many martinis after a long day at the office – or abusing their Xanax prescription?
Does the tool for escape define the person?
There are so many crimes committed by people who are under the influence of drugs.
Drug addiction changes a person – takes hold and inserts its barbs into the flesh of the addicted. But these are people who can be helped!
Why are we taking up so much prison space with people who were convicted for drug possession instead of treating them?
Then there are the mentally ill, who are certainly not served as they need to be in our country.
Why are we surprised when an untreated mentally ill person colors outside of society’s acceptable lines?
I think the outrage should be directed more toward the system that is neglecting those who need it.
I’ll now qualify all of the above with – there should be punishment for crime. And murder, theft, assault is not acceptable.
I just know there’s a person under that orange jumpsuit – and reasons behind the crime.
I’m not offering excuses for them – I’m offering the idea that there is more than meets the eye.
Having said all of that – I’ll be honest when I tell you that I found it very difficult to find compassion for one man who had a terminal brain tumor.
His crime was that of sexually assaulting a minor.
He would fall into the mentally ill category I suppose – as in my opinion, a mentally healthy person wouldn’t have committed such a heinous crime.
I still wasn’t able to find my compassion for him even after acknowledging this.
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The inmates that decided to take part in the hospice program were surprisingly affected by the environment.
I say surprisingly because some had been exposed to death before, in violent and personal ways.
Men who had taken a life, sat scared and uncomfortable as they sat vigil with a man breathing his last breath.
The film makers did not spare the audience the final moments of the dying. This was a raw and very real look into a hospice situation.
One man in particular became ill suddenly – unable to keep weight on his bones and coughing up blood. The x-rays the prison had taken showed signs of cancer – but until a biopsy was done, they couldn’t diagnose the man. He came several times to the ward only to return to his cell without having the tests done.
The fear in his eyes was my undoing.
The nurse asked him if he wanted to be admitted to the ward – no … he didn’t want to give up.
She explained that it wouldn’t be giving up. That no matter where he was, if he had hope, he was not giving up. But that he would be needing care should medical intervention be needed and that they could give that to him there.
Two things struck me at this point. That this man, who was in prison, wanted to live – and even within the walls of that penitentiary, he still had hope.
To me though, that hospice must have smelled to him like the euthanasia room at a dog pound.
It was where people went to die – not to get well.
Here he was showing up to find out what was wrong with him, and the tests being delayed – and returning to his cell in fear and sickness. I wanted to cradle him. I wanted to shout for a doctor on his behalf.
He was sentenced to life after all – not death.
He finally did get his results – and they were worse than anyone expected. He was given only weeks to live.
In his final weeks, he was afforded a visit from his brother, who was also imprisoned. I was moved to tears as he implored his brother to change … to do better.
They prayed together and again, I wanted to hold that man.
The filmmakers followed him from couch to crematorium.
The men that stayed by his side – who washed him and changed him – were getting perhaps a first lesson in humility, selflessness and compassion.
I say perhaps, because I don’t know that to be true.
But if it wasn’t their first lesson – it was definitely a powerful experience that would leave a profound impression.
Even the warden admitted during his interview that he couldn’t do it. That he had admiration for the men who could.
Those men got past their fears and became angels.
There was change.
There was deep regret for the lives they had taken.
There was respect for the process of dying.
Had these men been part of such a program prior to their crimes – would they have committed them?
I wondered with heavy heart about that too.
How does someone value life when they themselves are born into a world that does not value them?
When you’re raised to feel as if you are a statistic, a stereotype, a burden – where do you find worth within that gives you the strength to want to accomplish good things for yourself, let alone others?
There are those that do find it. People who beat the odds.
I find that to be amazing and inspiring.
I have always been incredibly in awe of those who overcome adversity because they made a choice to do so.
I also think that by choosing to be part of the hospice program and being of service to the dying – the men documented in this film have done the same thing.
Some will have a chance to live that change in the outside world – some will not.
But I don’t think it came too late – it’s wonderful that it came at all – they learned the value of life through comforting the dying.
First Tangent of the Year
Two things resonated with me on Facebook today – one friend got engaged last night (I couldn’t be happier for her!) and another friend wrote something really thought-provoking on ‘Fear’.
Fear + Love = Tangent.
I thought about some of the recent obstacles I’ve overcome.
Being a single parent has not been easy.
And when I say ‘single’ parent I do mean – single. Solo. Alone. One.
I have no plan B. No safety net. It all comes down to me.
My fears are usually those of the ‘not being able to provide the basic necessities for my little family’ variety. My little family now being an 18-year-old son and a dog that adopted us.
It’s nothing short of terrifying. (And exhilarating when I succeed – if I’m being honest.)
But, I could never be in a relationship born of fear. Only love.
I don’t understand people who bounce from relationship to relationship because they can’t be alone.
I don’t understand ‘gold diggers’ or those women that have a ‘sugar daddy’ that pays their bills.
I’m not judging them either. I’m sure there is a reason they don’t feel empowered or lack the drive to go it alone.
Just as there are reasons why I am so stubborn and independent.
It doesn’t make my way right – it’s just my way.
I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I settled for anything less than true love.
And perhaps that’s why I DO live with myself.
Not willing to settle. Not willing to be in a relationship for the wrong reasons.
But new fears – or, perhaps that’s not the right word … new ‘unknowns’ are to be embarked upon.
My son (God willing) won’t need me in a couple of years. When he’s learned to juggle achieving a higher education and providing for himself.
He’ll be cutting his own path and I’ll have to look in the mirror and answer to the little girl who used to be me.
She had wanted to be an archeologist, a teacher and a writer. She had wanted to marry her Prince Charming and live happily ever after.
I never did get that Cinderella to the ball.
But, I can look her in the eye and say ‘but you had a beautiful baby boy – and you turned out to be a good mom.’
She wanted that too.
I feel change coming.
And there is fear.
An electric buzz in the air, foreshadowing that 2014 is going to be a very important year.
Monday Musing
Monday.
One of the first sentences I heard today was “I think you’re too hard on yourself.”
The source was a man who I work with by association, and he barely knows me.
I tend to take all comments to heart. I absorb them, dissect them, process them.
This morning though, not so much. I just said, “Yeah, I think you’re right”
And he is.
I need to be kinder to myself.
Just this weekend I realized in the process of striving to grow, heal and improve – I had become my own bully.
I find the people that barely know me, have a better perspective than those with a lot of information.
Who we are on the surface, if we’re being authentic, really is a very accurate glimpse of who we really are deep inside.
You can judge my book by my cover apparently – as I’m very easy to read and wear my heart on my sleeve.
And I’m open to hearing what my cover is saying to people.
I think that for me, not wanting people to judge me until they know ‘the whole story’ is a cop out. It’s directly contradictory to the theory that we decide how to behave and choose who to be. My story is nothing more than an excuse.
My actions today – my cover – my choices … are who I am.
Graduation
I drove away from the event center last night where my son had just graduated, alone.
I had a Gwen Stefani CD in the CD player and I felt a shift as the coin of acceptance dropped and I belted out “Ain’t no Hollaback Girl” along with Gwen.
Everything felt just … right.
Nic left the event with his girlfriend, my parents left together and I left with a smile on my face.
I have been so scared of the rapid changes in the dynamics of my relationship with Nic this past year! I needn’t have been.
Here I was worrying about where I would fit in his life. Here (Literally right here) I was worrying whether or not I’d done enough for him – done the right things by him.
Then, in the parking lot right after graduation, he picked my mom up in a hug and then shook my dads hand, and POOF! The worry dissipated.
I mentally dusted my hands with a ‘well, that’s-that then’ resolve, and a peace settled in.
It was sort of like hearing your little one say “thank you” without being prompted for the first time, or seeing them hold the door open for someone (Okay, I still feel a surge of pride when he does those things.)
In a single moment, I glimpsed Nic, the young man, and I was simultaneously proud of him and awash with an odd sensation of freedom. Freedom from worry.
When I got home, (after uploading a bazillion photos to my ipad and managing to blow my icloud memory out of the sky) I had a little time alone to reflect.
And in reflecting I was SO grateful!
I thought about all the people who had a hand, directly or indirectly, in raising my son with me.
Yes, I’m a single mom, but a whole slew of people have been instrumental in the successful rearing of my child. (And now I’m cracking up thinking of the quote from ‘Knocked Up’: Jay: I’m going to be there to rear your child. Jason: You hear that, Ben? Don’t let him near the kid, he wants to rear your child!)
I was completely filled with appreciation and memories. Gratitude and love.
I wanted to thank every single person individually. There are people who don’t even realize how much of an impact they had on my journey as a mom.
So I try to tell people who touch my life that they have. I try to remember to thank and acknowledge the people I love, the people who love me back – and the people who love Nic.
And in that moment, when Nic had my mother in his arms – and my dads hand in his – I knew he was doing the same thing.
Debauchery Soup 