Princess Amelia here. Long time, no see. I'm glad to see you're still here though. My sister, Princess Matilda, has been on me about talking about the Queen a little bit more. About her last days with us.
The Queen lived in her own cottage and her Prince's and Princess's were really good about looking in on her and getting her to the places she needed to go...places she wanted to go; getting her the things she needed...things she wanted; getting her to see the people that she needed to see...and to the people she wanted to see. No matter her wish, she got it.
If she wanted fried chicken for breakfast, pancakes for lunch or ice cream for dinner, that's what she got. None of us was going to be the one to tell her no and have to live with it for the rest of our lives.
One night, the Queen woke up in the middle of the night. Her bladder was yelling at her. It needed to be relieved. So up she went, off her bed...and down she went, off her feet. She was hurt badly. She had a phone close by but her pride would not let her use it to call for help. She laid on the floor for several hours before getting the nerve to make herself get up. She was in a lot of pain.
But she got up. And got herself to the bathroom. And got herself back to bed. And the next morning, she got herself up out of bed and got dressed and proceeded with her day. And she did this for probably two days. I can't remember exactly. She admitted that she hurt but she wouldn't admit it to us (her kids) that she was fell out of bed.
Finally, she admitted it to her brother. Good ole uncle Mel. And he let Marta know right away. Don't think the Queen didn't get some gruff from us about this! Oh, she did. That whole morning that we found out.
Marta and I decided that I would take her to the hospital and have X-rays done. And I did. And that was quite an experience. It's not easy to x-ray someone who can't move without shrieking in pain. But they got it done. They were a great bunch of technicians and the Queen...well she was a rockstar in my eyes.
As soon as we got from the x-ray room back to the doctor's office, my mom's doctor said "She needs to be admitted right away. Her pelvic bone is broken and that tumor is right at that break." So she was admitted. While we got the Queen comfortable, Matilda showed up and then it wasn't long that Marta showed up.
I have a feeling there isn't a hospital around that likes our family when we're together. We laugh WAY too much. About things that "normal" families don't laugh about. Like our momma falling and breaking her pelvic bone and not telling her own children and putting herself through more pain and misery than she ever needed to be in. That's what we do. We accentuate the negative and make it the funniest thing you've ever heard!
So after a day in the hospital, the doctor comes in and says the inevitable. "She has to go to a nursing home." I will never forget the sound of those words coming out of her mouth and into my ears. It was almost like they took forever to get from point A to point B. And when it finally sunk in, I was furious!
"That can't happen. We have done nothing but promise her that she will never go to a nursing home. She is scared to go there. That can't happen!" I know I got a little loud in that tiny little room. The doctor just looked at me with eyes that said, "You can't win this." But I couldn't accept that. "There are six of us kids. Between all of us, WE can take care of her at home. WE can take shifts. WE can help her bathe. WE can change her clothes. WE CAN DO IT."
We didn't even get the chance. There was no way the doctor was going to allow her to go back home. That was a low low day for me. I felt like I had betrayed my own mother even though she was saying that she knew it was time and she was okay with going there. I will never believe she was truly okay with that. But I went and made the arrangements anyway.
The next day, I was at work (at the nursing home) when the ambulance pulled up. The brothers and sisters pulled up behind and they brought mom out of the ambulance and I went outside. Even though I was standing right next to her, it felt like she was a million miles away. She was so hopped up on meds so that the ride didn't hurt her, that anyone else would have thought she was being admitted into the gates at Disney World.
She wanted hugs from all of us before she was wheeled in. And for the next several weeks, I feel like I never left that nursing home. I was there for all my breaks. I was there before work. I was there after work. Most of the time, I stayed the night with her. She had a loveseat in her room and I slept on it. She always had company. I loved that part. Everyone was so good about coming to see her.
On the morning of ten, nine, eight.....that's the date... she was so bright eyed and wanting to get up and sit in her chair and then down in bed again because she hurt and then up again because she felt better. She wore US out. All of us kids were there, Uncle Mel and Aunt Mer were there, Nellie was there. We were all gathered around her bed, talking to her. I didn't want to leave her for any reason. I kept telling her how much I loved her and that I wanted her to live forever but if she felt that she couldn't hold on that long, that was okay too.
She held onto my hand for a long time. Even though I know it wore her out. Marta had to leave to take her grandson to the doctor. Matilda went home to get her clothes because she was spending the night with mom. Hal and Herc went back to school because they had classes they had to take care of and Perry had to go to the office (he was Sheriff at the time) to take care of some business. That left me as the only kid left. I wasn't budging.
I get a phone call from Marta. She says that there is a paper at the funeral home that needs to be signed and I need to go up and sign it real quick. I left Uncle Mel and Aunt Mer with mom and Nellie drove me up to the funeral home real quick. When we got there, there were no cars. We thought this was strange. To this day I wonder if Marta and Nellie didn't have it planned to just get me out of there. Someone came to help us and called the funeral director and he said it wasn't important and we would do it later.
We go back to the nursing home and as we near the end of the hallway, Uncle Mel comes out and looks at me and shakes his head as he starts to cry. We hugged and I went to mom. My Queen lay there at peace finally. I feel her hand in mine today as if it just happened. And then I didn't want to leave her side again. But I did. Because I had to.
I guess after we all left, mom kept saying something to Uncle Mel. They couldn't tell what it was she was trying to say so Aunt Mer went to get a nurse. When it was just mom and Uncle Mel, mom said, "I love you." And that was it. She took her last breath. And it wasn't long after this, that everyone was back from where they had to be. All of us. Like that was how it was supposed to happen. And I guess it was.
Sometimes I feel cheated that I couldn't be there to tell her how much I loved her but then I remember how many times that day I had already told her. I know she knows how much I love her. I know she knows how often I shed tears over her absence here on earth. And I know she knows that she will never, for one day, be absent from my heart.
My mom, My Queen
Forever to be
In my heart
Being heard and being seen;
My mom, My friend
Forever to be
In my heart
From beginning to end;
My mom, I thank you
And forever will
Because you made my heart
To be just like you
I love you and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about the love...the compassion...the patience...you had for me and have passed on to me. I hope to be just like you when I grow up. Someday.
2012/06/30
I'd like to trade my heart in
I didn't know whether to do my font in red today, or blue. I chose blue. The sadness overtakes the anger by far.
I have said in earlier blogs that when we were growing up, we weren't allowed to have pets. I think that may have been a HUGE mistake. I don't even know who to blame. I can't blame anyone. I guess I could blame my parents.....but then again, they let us have animals until we moved into the jail house. It was the county supervisors that wouldn't allow pets. Or so I was always told. And that's understandable too. I mean, wasn't it enough they moved a family with six kids (who were at times, animals) into their precious jail house?
Fine. I guess I won't blame anyone. But having animals as a child could have prepared me for things a little differently in my adult life. You know from my blog about my puppy, Bear and how it tore me up when he was run over. I still have a hard time thinking about him and how he was taken from us too early. I visit his grave often and tell him how sorry I am that I didn't protect him better than that and that I hope he's in Heaven waiting for me to join him some day.
Last night, I got home from work about 0120 in the morning. The very first thing I did was open up the kennel and let the dogs out. Momma had been in there with the two pups since I left shortly before 1700. She immediately went to get a drink and I reached in to get the pups. The male was crying. I assumed it was because his momma had just ran out without him. I noticed the female had her head in the food dish. That is kinda strange since she doesn't have any teeth. She must be stuck.
"What are you doing in there freckles?" And I picked her up, only to realize that she was dead. She had been sat on and suffocated. Her brother was wailing and trying to get to me because I had his sister. I laid her down...I was in shock. For a few minutes, I truly didn't know what to do. I got the male out and he kept nudging his sister. I know he was trying to wake her up. I imagine that he listened to her cry for help until she couldn't cry anymore.
The momma didn't want anything to do with her. I brought her over to the pups and she pushed them out of the way so she could get under my hand (to pet her). I was sad and I was furious. But I was more sad. This is the second pup that she has killed. I knew in my heart that I could not trust her with the last pup and took her outside and tied her to her lead and let her sleep in her doghouse one last time.
I left a message with Gee to come up to the house in the morning so he could bury her. He was out camping with friends and I knew there was no way I was going to be able to do that. I wrapped "Freckles" up in a small towel and laid her on my enclosed porch since the floor is concrete and would be cool for the night. All I could do was stare at her fragile, resting body. And her brother wouldn't stop crying.
Finally I just let the flood gates open and I sobbed for this poor defenseless puppy that died at the hands of her mother. I sobbed because I had to find a way to comfort this poor little guy that doens't understand why his sister and momma aren't there anymore. And I sobbed because I wanted my Bear back. I laid down with the male puppy and just let myself cry. When I would cry, he would get up by my face and try to lick my tears. When I stopped crying, he would wail again.
What a night. It took me forever to go to sleep and then when I did, I kept waking up to make sure I wasn't suffocating that little guy. He wanted to sleep up by my hair the whole night. No thank you. I made him sleep a little ways away from me but close enough that my hand was beside him the whole night. So I knew when he moved.
This morning, I brought the momma in and let her feed her son one last time. I petted her and told her how much I loved having her with me and that she was going to go to a place where she would never have to be tied to a lead; would never be hungry or thirsty; and would always have someone there to pet her. I have sobbed so much in the past eighteen hours, my head will not stop hurting. I feel like it's going to burst.
I'm surprised I am dry-eyed typing this because my heart hurts so bad. I think I'm numb already. Anyway, Gee came home and buried Freckles and took momma to be put down. I'm sure there are going to be people that think we're Class A assholes but I can't have a dog that is going to kill other dogs. I won't have it. She has been shown nothing but love and because of that, she didn't want her own pups to have it. Jealousy isn't only in people.
Momma is buried out at the family farm where we will always have her with us. She can run with her pups now and not have to be jealous of them anymore. I wish I could make my heart stop this feeling. I wish I didn't care so much. I wish I could just move on. I think that if I had been able to have a pet growing up, I wouldn't hurt so much. But then again, I probably would. I know that there won't be any new dogs from now on. When they're gone, they're gone and if I can get rid of the ones I have now, my heart will be fine.
Hug your family pet or pets. Tell them you love them. Give them a treat.
I have said in earlier blogs that when we were growing up, we weren't allowed to have pets. I think that may have been a HUGE mistake. I don't even know who to blame. I can't blame anyone. I guess I could blame my parents.....but then again, they let us have animals until we moved into the jail house. It was the county supervisors that wouldn't allow pets. Or so I was always told. And that's understandable too. I mean, wasn't it enough they moved a family with six kids (who were at times, animals) into their precious jail house?
Fine. I guess I won't blame anyone. But having animals as a child could have prepared me for things a little differently in my adult life. You know from my blog about my puppy, Bear and how it tore me up when he was run over. I still have a hard time thinking about him and how he was taken from us too early. I visit his grave often and tell him how sorry I am that I didn't protect him better than that and that I hope he's in Heaven waiting for me to join him some day.
Last night, I got home from work about 0120 in the morning. The very first thing I did was open up the kennel and let the dogs out. Momma had been in there with the two pups since I left shortly before 1700. She immediately went to get a drink and I reached in to get the pups. The male was crying. I assumed it was because his momma had just ran out without him. I noticed the female had her head in the food dish. That is kinda strange since she doesn't have any teeth. She must be stuck.
"What are you doing in there freckles?" And I picked her up, only to realize that she was dead. She had been sat on and suffocated. Her brother was wailing and trying to get to me because I had his sister. I laid her down...I was in shock. For a few minutes, I truly didn't know what to do. I got the male out and he kept nudging his sister. I know he was trying to wake her up. I imagine that he listened to her cry for help until she couldn't cry anymore.
The momma didn't want anything to do with her. I brought her over to the pups and she pushed them out of the way so she could get under my hand (to pet her). I was sad and I was furious. But I was more sad. This is the second pup that she has killed. I knew in my heart that I could not trust her with the last pup and took her outside and tied her to her lead and let her sleep in her doghouse one last time.
I left a message with Gee to come up to the house in the morning so he could bury her. He was out camping with friends and I knew there was no way I was going to be able to do that. I wrapped "Freckles" up in a small towel and laid her on my enclosed porch since the floor is concrete and would be cool for the night. All I could do was stare at her fragile, resting body. And her brother wouldn't stop crying.
Finally I just let the flood gates open and I sobbed for this poor defenseless puppy that died at the hands of her mother. I sobbed because I had to find a way to comfort this poor little guy that doens't understand why his sister and momma aren't there anymore. And I sobbed because I wanted my Bear back. I laid down with the male puppy and just let myself cry. When I would cry, he would get up by my face and try to lick my tears. When I stopped crying, he would wail again.
What a night. It took me forever to go to sleep and then when I did, I kept waking up to make sure I wasn't suffocating that little guy. He wanted to sleep up by my hair the whole night. No thank you. I made him sleep a little ways away from me but close enough that my hand was beside him the whole night. So I knew when he moved.
This morning, I brought the momma in and let her feed her son one last time. I petted her and told her how much I loved having her with me and that she was going to go to a place where she would never have to be tied to a lead; would never be hungry or thirsty; and would always have someone there to pet her. I have sobbed so much in the past eighteen hours, my head will not stop hurting. I feel like it's going to burst.
I'm surprised I am dry-eyed typing this because my heart hurts so bad. I think I'm numb already. Anyway, Gee came home and buried Freckles and took momma to be put down. I'm sure there are going to be people that think we're Class A assholes but I can't have a dog that is going to kill other dogs. I won't have it. She has been shown nothing but love and because of that, she didn't want her own pups to have it. Jealousy isn't only in people.
Momma is buried out at the family farm where we will always have her with us. She can run with her pups now and not have to be jealous of them anymore. I wish I could make my heart stop this feeling. I wish I didn't care so much. I wish I could just move on. I think that if I had been able to have a pet growing up, I wouldn't hurt so much. But then again, I probably would. I know that there won't be any new dogs from now on. When they're gone, they're gone and if I can get rid of the ones I have now, my heart will be fine.
Hug your family pet or pets. Tell them you love them. Give them a treat.
2012/06/27
A crappy blog
And I'm back. I just can't get enough of you today!! *blush*
I had such a "peach" of a day today that I just thought I should share it (no, not pie this time). I know you're on the edge of your seat. Ready? You sure? Ok.....
Wait..... did you go potty? If so, there's just ONE more thing I might suggest you do. You might wanna march right back in there, stick a toothbrush down your throat and get rid of whatever it was you ate in the last couple of hours.
For a couple of reasons. First one being that this could gag you. It gagged me. Second one is that between your gas and your breath, I don't know which way to turn you! Rude!
So today was laundry day for the dirty old man. It's hot out. We went through this last year. I believe I told you about him running through the house all the while shitting down his leg??? Ring a bell?
Keep in mind that this man is a little "special." He truly needs to be in a facility but until his family gets their heads out of their asses and deals with "being the bad guy," he will continue to live in a world he doesn't completely understand and can't cope in. He has the heart of a teddy bear though. Until you piss him off. Then he turns into the Incredible Grizzly. For real, people. And today I wasn't sure which one I was going to be dealing with.
I walk into his apartment and there he is, as always, sitting in his recliner, just waiting for me to come wash his clothes. He has the laundry in the basket beside the door.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in was the smell. Not the smell of cooked fish, no. Not the smell of fourteen day old smelly socks, no. Not even the smell of sour garbage. No. What I smelled turned my nose inside out and it even did a couple of flips. It was so confused, it didn't know which way was right. It couldn't get away from the smell. P-YOU-TRID!!! And as much as I'm trying to get away from using this word so much.....FUCK IT WAS GROSS!! (The word in question there is the word gross, sorry)
Body odor. Big man body odor. Big man body odor that has been sweating for several days without a shower. I went in and immediately filled the water jugs. No, not to pour over him. To water the miniature roses outside. While watering the flowers, I was making my speech to him in my head.
I'm going to call this man Dom. Short for dirty old man. And faster to type. So I go back inside and sit down across from him and say it just like this, "Dom, I need to talk to you about something and I don't want you to get mad at me, ok?" I think I started that off innocently enough, don't you? I mean, would YOU get your guard up if someone said that to you? Of course you would. You would know that something is coming next that is going to offend you.
<insert break here to listen to "Porn Star Dancing" song and mourn my true calling in life.>
Anyway, Dom isn't like that. He told me to just lay it out for him. "Well Dom, when I came in here, the first thing I noticed that was different than any other time since you have lived here is the smell. It is terrible." He says, "Does it smell like shit?" His eyes were as big as the moon. It literally took everything in me to not laugh. Now, the smile I couldn't hide. "No, it smells like really bad body odor." He leans back in his chair "Oh."
I proceeded to tell him that I can tell his isn't showering and that his body odor is not only offensive to the people that are around him...whether he is in the hundred dollar store or in the grocery....but it's offensive to his own body. I told him he is going to break out into rashes and it will break his skin down and he will start to get sores.....yada yada yada (aren't you glad you bathed this week?).
<really wondering why I didn't become a stripper....I mean dancer!!! love the songs on my mp3 player>
He told me that he isn't sure WHEN he should take a shower and that he HAS been taking hot showers at night right before bed but that they are making his bowels bust in the night. :-| Sure Dom.
I wrote down on a piece of paper for him to see everyday, what times he should shower every day (twice) and what times he should wash the armpits, under the belly and between his legs (front and back times 3). He told me he has been using deodorant but I couldn't find any of it in the whole place. I started him a list of things to get on his next trip out. Deodorant was at the very top. Told him he has to use it twice a day as well.
Yes, I'm hard to live with. Anyway, I know he hasn't been showering because not a single towel had been moved since I was there two weeks ago. *sigh*
So I get the laundry started and proceed to the bathroom to clean. Oh my God!!! I walked out and then walked back in. I wasn't sure I had seen it right the first time. From the top of the toilet lid to the base of the toilet to the baseboards under his sink..........SHIT. NO WONDER he asked if it smelled like shit in there!!!
And apparently he DID get in the shower enough to clean himself off because there was shit in there as well!! I can't make this stuff up people! It truly happened. I got the Clorox clean-up out and just soaked everything that I thought he touched.....with his nasty shitty ass or his probably dirty fingers. I even doused the hand soap down. Yes, I did.
I wonder what he dried off with? Oh well, that's the least of my concerns at this point. I told him to not go in there and I was going to the store and would be right back. I headed off to the good ole Dollar General and purchased a new mop, Mr. Clean, more Clorox Clean-up, carpet fresh, a scrubber, and air freshener for the bathroom. And disposable gloves. Don't forget the gloves.
The only thing I forgot was a face mask. I hate it when I have to clean someone's shit up and they hear me gagging. It's kinda embarrassing. I know it shouldn't be but it is. I wasn't leaving until this place was CLEAN and smelling like someone gave a shit.....poor choice of words there because obviously someone DID give a shit. *sigh* I had had enough of this shit.
Got back and put the laundry in the dryer and got to it. I think the smell of all the chemicals finally got to him because he finally left me alone and went to visit his mom. I scrubbed his apartment from top to bottom. You should have seen me. Spray, wipe, gag, spray, wipe, gag, rinse and repeat. I couldn't puke. Where the hell would I have put it?? I wasn't about to stick my head in his shit bowl with shit on it!
<can you believe I'm eating pizza while typing this?>
I cleaned fans. I organized his closet. I even re-folded the clothes in his dresser. I even left him a very strict note to call me at the HINT of a bowel movement from now on! What a shitty day at the office, huh??!!?? I'll let you know how it goes.
Until then...wipe your asses really good after every bowel movement, keep your "unders" clean. And I don't mean underpants. I mean under your boobs, under your belly and under your balls, if you need to. Was that blunt enough for you? Oh yeah...and use deodorant. As many times a day as you need to.
And don't call me when you have a bowel movement. Please.
I had such a "peach" of a day today that I just thought I should share it (no, not pie this time). I know you're on the edge of your seat. Ready? You sure? Ok.....
Wait..... did you go potty? If so, there's just ONE more thing I might suggest you do. You might wanna march right back in there, stick a toothbrush down your throat and get rid of whatever it was you ate in the last couple of hours.
For a couple of reasons. First one being that this could gag you. It gagged me. Second one is that between your gas and your breath, I don't know which way to turn you! Rude!
So today was laundry day for the dirty old man. It's hot out. We went through this last year. I believe I told you about him running through the house all the while shitting down his leg??? Ring a bell?
Keep in mind that this man is a little "special." He truly needs to be in a facility but until his family gets their heads out of their asses and deals with "being the bad guy," he will continue to live in a world he doesn't completely understand and can't cope in. He has the heart of a teddy bear though. Until you piss him off. Then he turns into the Incredible Grizzly. For real, people. And today I wasn't sure which one I was going to be dealing with.
I walk into his apartment and there he is, as always, sitting in his recliner, just waiting for me to come wash his clothes. He has the laundry in the basket beside the door.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in was the smell. Not the smell of cooked fish, no. Not the smell of fourteen day old smelly socks, no. Not even the smell of sour garbage. No. What I smelled turned my nose inside out and it even did a couple of flips. It was so confused, it didn't know which way was right. It couldn't get away from the smell. P-YOU-TRID!!! And as much as I'm trying to get away from using this word so much.....FUCK IT WAS GROSS!! (The word in question there is the word gross, sorry)
Body odor. Big man body odor. Big man body odor that has been sweating for several days without a shower. I went in and immediately filled the water jugs. No, not to pour over him. To water the miniature roses outside. While watering the flowers, I was making my speech to him in my head.
I'm going to call this man Dom. Short for dirty old man. And faster to type. So I go back inside and sit down across from him and say it just like this, "Dom, I need to talk to you about something and I don't want you to get mad at me, ok?" I think I started that off innocently enough, don't you? I mean, would YOU get your guard up if someone said that to you? Of course you would. You would know that something is coming next that is going to offend you.
<insert break here to listen to "Porn Star Dancing" song and mourn my true calling in life.>
Anyway, Dom isn't like that. He told me to just lay it out for him. "Well Dom, when I came in here, the first thing I noticed that was different than any other time since you have lived here is the smell. It is terrible." He says, "Does it smell like shit?" His eyes were as big as the moon. It literally took everything in me to not laugh. Now, the smile I couldn't hide. "No, it smells like really bad body odor." He leans back in his chair "Oh."
I proceeded to tell him that I can tell his isn't showering and that his body odor is not only offensive to the people that are around him...whether he is in the hundred dollar store or in the grocery....but it's offensive to his own body. I told him he is going to break out into rashes and it will break his skin down and he will start to get sores.....yada yada yada (aren't you glad you bathed this week?).
<really wondering why I didn't become a stripper....I mean dancer!!! love the songs on my mp3 player>
He told me that he isn't sure WHEN he should take a shower and that he HAS been taking hot showers at night right before bed but that they are making his bowels bust in the night. :-| Sure Dom.
I wrote down on a piece of paper for him to see everyday, what times he should shower every day (twice) and what times he should wash the armpits, under the belly and between his legs (front and back times 3). He told me he has been using deodorant but I couldn't find any of it in the whole place. I started him a list of things to get on his next trip out. Deodorant was at the very top. Told him he has to use it twice a day as well.
Yes, I'm hard to live with. Anyway, I know he hasn't been showering because not a single towel had been moved since I was there two weeks ago. *sigh*
So I get the laundry started and proceed to the bathroom to clean. Oh my God!!! I walked out and then walked back in. I wasn't sure I had seen it right the first time. From the top of the toilet lid to the base of the toilet to the baseboards under his sink..........SHIT. NO WONDER he asked if it smelled like shit in there!!!
And apparently he DID get in the shower enough to clean himself off because there was shit in there as well!! I can't make this stuff up people! It truly happened. I got the Clorox clean-up out and just soaked everything that I thought he touched.....with his nasty shitty ass or his probably dirty fingers. I even doused the hand soap down. Yes, I did.
I wonder what he dried off with? Oh well, that's the least of my concerns at this point. I told him to not go in there and I was going to the store and would be right back. I headed off to the good ole Dollar General and purchased a new mop, Mr. Clean, more Clorox Clean-up, carpet fresh, a scrubber, and air freshener for the bathroom. And disposable gloves. Don't forget the gloves.
The only thing I forgot was a face mask. I hate it when I have to clean someone's shit up and they hear me gagging. It's kinda embarrassing. I know it shouldn't be but it is. I wasn't leaving until this place was CLEAN and smelling like someone gave a shit.....poor choice of words there because obviously someone DID give a shit. *sigh* I had had enough of this shit.
Got back and put the laundry in the dryer and got to it. I think the smell of all the chemicals finally got to him because he finally left me alone and went to visit his mom. I scrubbed his apartment from top to bottom. You should have seen me. Spray, wipe, gag, spray, wipe, gag, rinse and repeat. I couldn't puke. Where the hell would I have put it?? I wasn't about to stick my head in his shit bowl with shit on it!
<can you believe I'm eating pizza while typing this?>
I cleaned fans. I organized his closet. I even re-folded the clothes in his dresser. I even left him a very strict note to call me at the HINT of a bowel movement from now on! What a shitty day at the office, huh??!!?? I'll let you know how it goes.
Until then...wipe your asses really good after every bowel movement, keep your "unders" clean. And I don't mean underpants. I mean under your boobs, under your belly and under your balls, if you need to. Was that blunt enough for you? Oh yeah...and use deodorant. As many times a day as you need to.
And don't call me when you have a bowel movement. Please.
For the love of french fries
I'm back. And boy are you lucky!! It was an utter and complete amazement to myself that I was able to make it to the chair this morning. My muscles are screaming at me and my mind and body are thrilled with me!
Yesterday at work, Vivian and I got this brilliant idea to prop open the doors in the jail area (we are empty currently) and put our area to good use. I started out walking laps around, counting each and every step carefully, as Vivian did her stretches and upper body exercises while catching the radios and phones. And then we'd switch.
We each got a set of laps in...well Vivian was actually still finishing up...when the Sheriff came back to get some coffee. Pretty sure he thought we had flipped our lids. He sees all the doors open to the jail area and says "Where's the jail administrator? There's been a jail break!!!" Like I said, we are currently an empty jail so we are hurting nothing by utilizing the space. And all bases are covered.
So after we visit with the good Sheriff a while and he decides he doesn't want to be a part of this and leaves, I go out and do another set of laps and then so does Vivian. We were able to get some pretty good speed built up going around that horseshoe. It was awesome.
In comes the Hot Shot Deputy. Now, I think he was pretty convinced we HAD lost our marbles when he walked in and all these doors were sitting propped open. He proceeded with caution. We explained what we were doing and so he grabs the two large trash bins and sets them out in the booking room hallway and says, "There! Now you have two obstacles to walk around." And as I'm happily taking a call, I look over and there he stands with a FIRE EXTINGUISHER over his head and he says, "You need to walk with THIS over your head."
And then I swallowed my gum, laughing. Okay not really. But if I would have had gum in my mouth, I would have swallowed it. I did laugh though. I'm a bad girl. I can just see that happening! ME, carrying a fire extinguisher over my head. Wait... ME, trying to get a fire extinguisher over my head. The truth of the matter is, I would be lucky to walk around that horseshoe with a bottle of ketchup over my head. I have NO strength in my arms, whatsoever. But I'm slowly trying to change that. Give me time. I will be running with a forty pound bag of flour over my head one of these days. Noooo............... that was a joke. I won't be doing that!
So...for round number three, we were supposed to walk around the horseshoe and to the end of each hall in our booking area (around the trash bins and the chair that we added) and that would make one full round. Apparently I don't know when good is good enough. Every time I entered the horseshoe area, I jogged. When I made it to the booking room, I walked. Kinda broke it up a little bit and made it a little faster. And I like to jog...in short increments. AND...the horseshoe doesn't have video.
So for round three, I added twenty eight steps to my new routine. Vivian added twenty three. She's longer legged than I am and takes less strides than me. It's still a good addition to our routine. And boy did it make all the difference in the world! More steps and jogging. I loved each and every step of it. We ended up doing a total of five rounds. Lunch was in there somewhere. I vaguely remember that between breaths. -_-
I came home and for the first time in weeks, I didn't need a nap AND I was ready to tackle something. So I deep cleaned my dining room. And that wasn't enough. So I got out my ingredients and started in on the pie that I wanted to make for Hot Shot. This story has a little background so let me tell you about that before I go into my horrific story.
I asked Hot Shot if he liked peach pie because I had one in my freezer and I was thinking about bringing it the next day. It was him, Vivian and me working. He said he did like it. He asked me if the peaches were fresh. My answer, "They were at some point." That's all the was discussed about the pie, okay. So, the next day I bring the pie in and he comes back to get some pie and I hand him his plate, he sits down and I leave the room. Vivian mentions something about it being a "fundraiser" pie. Immediately he stops eating the pie.
I come into the room and he says to me, "You didn't make this pie?" I assured him it was still a homemade pie and that my niece and her teammates made them. So I get nothing but grief over this pie. I couldn't believe it. What's the big deal? The next day, he tells a couple of other officers the story about the pie and how I "deceived" him about it being homemade and having fresh peaches. Of course, he only does it to bother me. And it works. Because he's my favorite. And he knows it.
He says to me, "It's okay if you can't make a peach pie. Just tell me next time that it's someone else's pie. Ya know, it just hurts right here (as he pounds himself over the heart) that you led me to believe this was your pie...." and on and on he goes. Making this huge deal over it not being MY damned pie. So guess what...yup! My goal was to make that stoopid pie. And I may sit and watch him eat the whole thing!
So as I get ready to get my crust started, I realize that I don't see any peaches. Anywhere in my kitchen. ANYWHERE. I even went as far as to look in the laundry room, the deep freeze AND the bathroom. Needless to say, it wasn't in any of these places either. I called Aunt Grace. Had her check her car because she's the one that drove us to the store that night. No dice. Nothing in her car. Grrrr. I call Hy-Vee and am not happy about it because... well number one...it's in c-town and I'm not; and number two...I don't have a receipt from that visit.
The nice little gal that helped me said nobody left a note about any peaches being left here and I could get another bag if I just bring my receipt in. I told her I didn't have my receipt so that wasn't going to work. Expecting the call to end right now, I head out to the van. I mean, what were the odds that they would be in there and not get noticed for two days? Surely I would have smelled them, right? So as I get to the van, this gal comes back on the line and says, "If you give me your name, I can let you come get another bag of peaches for free as long as you bring me your ID."
Just as she spits all that out.....I spot the bag. It's between the seats in the back. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??? WOULDN'T I HAVE SMELLED THEM??? Apparently not! And to make it worse, there were two bags of vanilla chips and a bag of lettuce. Now, here's where my two little friends come out and sat on opposing shoulders. One says to me, "Tell her you will come get them. Even if they're good, they just told you that you can have a free bag of peaches!!" And I think to myself that these things can't be good. But it's nobody's fault but my own here. My other little friend is saying to me, "Tell her you found the bag and thanks. Don't take advantage."
The little one in white won. I said, "Oh dear, I just found them in the back of my van!" I am imagining a peach hell when I get them in the house. I thanked her and hung up. Something was telling me that this pie may be the death of me. In the house I go. I am ready to tackle this project. And thank God, the peaches were ok. Just a couple of spots. I even ate one. I amaze myself.
An hour and a half later, Gee walked in the door and saw me sitting at the kitchen table. Flour everywhere. Literally. Dough all over my hands. Crumbled dough all over the floor. And "that look" on my face. He says to me, "Don't cry." So I cry. Dammit that pissed me off! I had to throw away two pie crusts because I was just not getting it right! Gee tries to help and just when I think he's got it, it is stuck...to the table and to the roller and then to his fingers. GEEZUS H CHRISTMAS TREE!!! I am starting to understand insanity all too well at this point! This dough also goes to the garbage.
Wouldn't have mattered if he would have gotten it though because "I" am the one that opened her big mouth and said that "I" was making this pie. From scratch. So if he would have gotten it figured out, I would have started over and just did what he did, I guess. Anyway, it didn't work. I took a break from it and he went to the store. I wanted a store bought crust so I could see just how this was supposed to be done. So he brings it home and we study it. And we get our crust like that one. And we tear the crust. The store crust. Phew. So I barely got my crust in the pan. Gee had to cut the edges because at this point, if I would have handled a knife, it may not have been so pretty.
Got the insides put together. Made too much but got it put together all the same. Put the top crust on (with a cut out on top) and in the oven it goes. Looks good. It's cracked though. Dammit!!! My goal is to make a pie crust every day until I feel I can do this. There should be no reason I can't make a damned pie crust!!
Got the pie delivered. It was "good." Seriously dude? I considered offing myself while doing this and all you can say is "good?" For the love of french fries man, get with the program!! Another peach pie coming up tonight. This one is for the freezer. I may have it bronzed.....if it turns out like I want it to.
Yesterday at work, Vivian and I got this brilliant idea to prop open the doors in the jail area (we are empty currently) and put our area to good use. I started out walking laps around, counting each and every step carefully, as Vivian did her stretches and upper body exercises while catching the radios and phones. And then we'd switch.
We each got a set of laps in...well Vivian was actually still finishing up...when the Sheriff came back to get some coffee. Pretty sure he thought we had flipped our lids. He sees all the doors open to the jail area and says "Where's the jail administrator? There's been a jail break!!!" Like I said, we are currently an empty jail so we are hurting nothing by utilizing the space. And all bases are covered.
So after we visit with the good Sheriff a while and he decides he doesn't want to be a part of this and leaves, I go out and do another set of laps and then so does Vivian. We were able to get some pretty good speed built up going around that horseshoe. It was awesome.
In comes the Hot Shot Deputy. Now, I think he was pretty convinced we HAD lost our marbles when he walked in and all these doors were sitting propped open. He proceeded with caution. We explained what we were doing and so he grabs the two large trash bins and sets them out in the booking room hallway and says, "There! Now you have two obstacles to walk around." And as I'm happily taking a call, I look over and there he stands with a FIRE EXTINGUISHER over his head and he says, "You need to walk with THIS over your head."
And then I swallowed my gum, laughing. Okay not really. But if I would have had gum in my mouth, I would have swallowed it. I did laugh though. I'm a bad girl. I can just see that happening! ME, carrying a fire extinguisher over my head. Wait... ME, trying to get a fire extinguisher over my head. The truth of the matter is, I would be lucky to walk around that horseshoe with a bottle of ketchup over my head. I have NO strength in my arms, whatsoever. But I'm slowly trying to change that. Give me time. I will be running with a forty pound bag of flour over my head one of these days. Noooo............... that was a joke. I won't be doing that!
So...for round number three, we were supposed to walk around the horseshoe and to the end of each hall in our booking area (around the trash bins and the chair that we added) and that would make one full round. Apparently I don't know when good is good enough. Every time I entered the horseshoe area, I jogged. When I made it to the booking room, I walked. Kinda broke it up a little bit and made it a little faster. And I like to jog...in short increments. AND...the horseshoe doesn't have video.
So for round three, I added twenty eight steps to my new routine. Vivian added twenty three. She's longer legged than I am and takes less strides than me. It's still a good addition to our routine. And boy did it make all the difference in the world! More steps and jogging. I loved each and every step of it. We ended up doing a total of five rounds. Lunch was in there somewhere. I vaguely remember that between breaths. -_-
I came home and for the first time in weeks, I didn't need a nap AND I was ready to tackle something. So I deep cleaned my dining room. And that wasn't enough. So I got out my ingredients and started in on the pie that I wanted to make for Hot Shot. This story has a little background so let me tell you about that before I go into my horrific story.
I asked Hot Shot if he liked peach pie because I had one in my freezer and I was thinking about bringing it the next day. It was him, Vivian and me working. He said he did like it. He asked me if the peaches were fresh. My answer, "They were at some point." That's all the was discussed about the pie, okay. So, the next day I bring the pie in and he comes back to get some pie and I hand him his plate, he sits down and I leave the room. Vivian mentions something about it being a "fundraiser" pie. Immediately he stops eating the pie.
I come into the room and he says to me, "You didn't make this pie?" I assured him it was still a homemade pie and that my niece and her teammates made them. So I get nothing but grief over this pie. I couldn't believe it. What's the big deal? The next day, he tells a couple of other officers the story about the pie and how I "deceived" him about it being homemade and having fresh peaches. Of course, he only does it to bother me. And it works. Because he's my favorite. And he knows it.
He says to me, "It's okay if you can't make a peach pie. Just tell me next time that it's someone else's pie. Ya know, it just hurts right here (as he pounds himself over the heart) that you led me to believe this was your pie...." and on and on he goes. Making this huge deal over it not being MY damned pie. So guess what...yup! My goal was to make that stoopid pie. And I may sit and watch him eat the whole thing!
So as I get ready to get my crust started, I realize that I don't see any peaches. Anywhere in my kitchen. ANYWHERE. I even went as far as to look in the laundry room, the deep freeze AND the bathroom. Needless to say, it wasn't in any of these places either. I called Aunt Grace. Had her check her car because she's the one that drove us to the store that night. No dice. Nothing in her car. Grrrr. I call Hy-Vee and am not happy about it because... well number one...it's in c-town and I'm not; and number two...I don't have a receipt from that visit.
The nice little gal that helped me said nobody left a note about any peaches being left here and I could get another bag if I just bring my receipt in. I told her I didn't have my receipt so that wasn't going to work. Expecting the call to end right now, I head out to the van. I mean, what were the odds that they would be in there and not get noticed for two days? Surely I would have smelled them, right? So as I get to the van, this gal comes back on the line and says, "If you give me your name, I can let you come get another bag of peaches for free as long as you bring me your ID."
Just as she spits all that out.....I spot the bag. It's between the seats in the back. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??? WOULDN'T I HAVE SMELLED THEM??? Apparently not! And to make it worse, there were two bags of vanilla chips and a bag of lettuce. Now, here's where my two little friends come out and sat on opposing shoulders. One says to me, "Tell her you will come get them. Even if they're good, they just told you that you can have a free bag of peaches!!" And I think to myself that these things can't be good. But it's nobody's fault but my own here. My other little friend is saying to me, "Tell her you found the bag and thanks. Don't take advantage."
The little one in white won. I said, "Oh dear, I just found them in the back of my van!" I am imagining a peach hell when I get them in the house. I thanked her and hung up. Something was telling me that this pie may be the death of me. In the house I go. I am ready to tackle this project. And thank God, the peaches were ok. Just a couple of spots. I even ate one. I amaze myself.
An hour and a half later, Gee walked in the door and saw me sitting at the kitchen table. Flour everywhere. Literally. Dough all over my hands. Crumbled dough all over the floor. And "that look" on my face. He says to me, "Don't cry." So I cry. Dammit that pissed me off! I had to throw away two pie crusts because I was just not getting it right! Gee tries to help and just when I think he's got it, it is stuck...to the table and to the roller and then to his fingers. GEEZUS H CHRISTMAS TREE!!! I am starting to understand insanity all too well at this point! This dough also goes to the garbage.
Wouldn't have mattered if he would have gotten it though because "I" am the one that opened her big mouth and said that "I" was making this pie. From scratch. So if he would have gotten it figured out, I would have started over and just did what he did, I guess. Anyway, it didn't work. I took a break from it and he went to the store. I wanted a store bought crust so I could see just how this was supposed to be done. So he brings it home and we study it. And we get our crust like that one. And we tear the crust. The store crust. Phew. So I barely got my crust in the pan. Gee had to cut the edges because at this point, if I would have handled a knife, it may not have been so pretty.
Got the insides put together. Made too much but got it put together all the same. Put the top crust on (with a cut out on top) and in the oven it goes. Looks good. It's cracked though. Dammit!!! My goal is to make a pie crust every day until I feel I can do this. There should be no reason I can't make a damned pie crust!!
Got the pie delivered. It was "good." Seriously dude? I considered offing myself while doing this and all you can say is "good?" For the love of french fries man, get with the program!! Another peach pie coming up tonight. This one is for the freezer. I may have it bronzed.....if it turns out like I want it to.
2012/06/26
A mix of emotions to mourn
I am emotionally exhausted. Today I worked with Vivian and we had a really deep..... kinda heart-to-heart............ raw emotion...pour out our souls kinda talk. And I shared things with her that I am completely surprised about. Amazed about. I think I have put myself in shock. I shared something with her that I have never shared with another human being. I also found out that her and I were a lot a like when we were "coming of age."
A couple of times, it took everything in me to hold back the tears from forming in my eyes. And the reasons that I held back were multiple.....and I haven't decided which is the right one. I don't know if I held back because I don't want to look weak. I mean, how dumb can a person be to spill their guts about their true and honest feelings and then cry about it? And I know she wouldn't have cared if I had cried. Hell, she may have cried with me.
And then I think about what would have been said (or thought) if I HAD cried and one of our officers walked in the room. That would have been uncomfortable. For me and the officer. We all know how guys feel when a woman is crying. Makes them feel like a trapped animal and they need to RUN! -_- Of course they would want to know (later) what was wrong. Everybody wants to help everybody it seems.
Another reason I didn't think I should cry is because I ALMOST felt like I was cheating on my "best friend." You see, I am still trying to find...in my heart...if Kate and I really are best friends anymore. I am doing my best by not keeping score of different things but when it's blatantly thrown in my face that she doesn't want to do things with me unless I go by her "conditions," it makes me not want to be around her. And I think I'm mourning the loss of our relationship. I thought I could handle that better.
When I say "conditions," here are some examples of what I mean. "I will go BUT we have to take my car (because mine doesn't have air) and you have to drive." Sounds okay every once in a while but it is every time we go somewhere. And if I don't agree, she won't go. Another "condition" that I know I have to deal with is when I tell her how I feel about something, she ends up telling either her sisters or her daughters. It never stays just between us. And I know this to be true because they have accidentally let it slip about certain things.
Is this stuff that you would overlook? I don't feel like I should have to be the one to physically drive us everywhere we go together. When we were in the city a little while back, I told her she had to drive to this store we were going to or we weren't going. Plain and simple. I was tired of driving. So she drove. And she took the long way, which is fine.....but she tried to make me feel guilty the whole time she drove. So it was easier to just give in and drive the damned car.
And that whole guilt thing is my biggest issue with her. And I've had a talk with her numerous times about it. She says she doesn't do it but anybody who knows her, knows she does it. It's how she is. And to a point, it's cute...and it's funny. But it's annoying as hell. And I'm to the point where I can't take it anymore. I'm not going to be "guilted" into doing something that I don't want to do simply because it's the ONLY way I get to spend time with her.
Back to today. I think the last reason that I held back the tears is because I was afraid that if I had crumbled in front of Vivian, I was going to do something else. And that something else was to tell her the WHOLE truth. I didn't lie to her today. Not about anything. But I didn't tell her everything either. She knows that and she's okay with that. I love that about her. She's willing to take just what she's given and she doesn't feel the need to delve any deeper unless it's warranted.
I would say this conversation was two and a half hours long. And a fast two and a half hours it was. Before we knew it, it was time to go home. That doesn't mean I want to do that again tomorrow. No, no thanks. Tomorrow is laugh day. No matter what! If I trip over my chair, get a concussion and have to go to the hospital.....we WILL laugh about it.
So since I have gotten home from work, all I have done is think. Think about the things we discussed. Think about how I reacted. Think about why I reacted the way I did. I have questioned myself about WHY I have the feelings I have. I have tried to "sort" my feelings into "what am I going to do" and "how can I walk away from this" categories.
I have thought about Kate and the things that have changed in our friendship. The things we USED to do; the things we USED to discuss; and the things we USED to put ahead of everything else. And the more I think about it; the more I type about it; the more I feel like I truly am mourning the loss of the best friend I have ever had in my life. I fret that I will never have the kind of relationship...........friendship with anyone else on this big ole ball of grass and water that I had with Kate.
That's not saying that her and I won't still be friends. There are just restrictions now. Blind restrictions is how I see it. We won't say outloud what we will and won't do together. We will just "feel." Geezus H. that is sad. How do two people let this happen to themselves? *sigh*
Have you ever mourned a friendship gone wrong? Maybe not wrong.... just went the other direction I guess. How do you move on when that one person that you have always felt that sense of security with, is no longer that secure person? How do you get a relationship...a friendship with someone else that is even close to that? Because I need a person in my life. Someone that I can share these intimate things with... that maybe understands because they have their own intimate things that they need to share. And not hate me for my thoughts and not think that I'm a bad person and not run to another friend... even if that other friend is a neutral party... and share my stuff...my feelings.
My head is spinning. It's almost midnight. Gee has to be up in five hours which means I will be up in five hours. And then back to work. Maybe I can cry myself to sleep tonight. I need that hard sleep that I had the other night...but I need it in a five hour increment.
A couple of times, it took everything in me to hold back the tears from forming in my eyes. And the reasons that I held back were multiple.....and I haven't decided which is the right one. I don't know if I held back because I don't want to look weak. I mean, how dumb can a person be to spill their guts about their true and honest feelings and then cry about it? And I know she wouldn't have cared if I had cried. Hell, she may have cried with me.
And then I think about what would have been said (or thought) if I HAD cried and one of our officers walked in the room. That would have been uncomfortable. For me and the officer. We all know how guys feel when a woman is crying. Makes them feel like a trapped animal and they need to RUN! -_- Of course they would want to know (later) what was wrong. Everybody wants to help everybody it seems.
Another reason I didn't think I should cry is because I ALMOST felt like I was cheating on my "best friend." You see, I am still trying to find...in my heart...if Kate and I really are best friends anymore. I am doing my best by not keeping score of different things but when it's blatantly thrown in my face that she doesn't want to do things with me unless I go by her "conditions," it makes me not want to be around her. And I think I'm mourning the loss of our relationship. I thought I could handle that better.
When I say "conditions," here are some examples of what I mean. "I will go BUT we have to take my car (because mine doesn't have air) and you have to drive." Sounds okay every once in a while but it is every time we go somewhere. And if I don't agree, she won't go. Another "condition" that I know I have to deal with is when I tell her how I feel about something, she ends up telling either her sisters or her daughters. It never stays just between us. And I know this to be true because they have accidentally let it slip about certain things.
Is this stuff that you would overlook? I don't feel like I should have to be the one to physically drive us everywhere we go together. When we were in the city a little while back, I told her she had to drive to this store we were going to or we weren't going. Plain and simple. I was tired of driving. So she drove. And she took the long way, which is fine.....but she tried to make me feel guilty the whole time she drove. So it was easier to just give in and drive the damned car.
And that whole guilt thing is my biggest issue with her. And I've had a talk with her numerous times about it. She says she doesn't do it but anybody who knows her, knows she does it. It's how she is. And to a point, it's cute...and it's funny. But it's annoying as hell. And I'm to the point where I can't take it anymore. I'm not going to be "guilted" into doing something that I don't want to do simply because it's the ONLY way I get to spend time with her.
Back to today. I think the last reason that I held back the tears is because I was afraid that if I had crumbled in front of Vivian, I was going to do something else. And that something else was to tell her the WHOLE truth. I didn't lie to her today. Not about anything. But I didn't tell her everything either. She knows that and she's okay with that. I love that about her. She's willing to take just what she's given and she doesn't feel the need to delve any deeper unless it's warranted.
I would say this conversation was two and a half hours long. And a fast two and a half hours it was. Before we knew it, it was time to go home. That doesn't mean I want to do that again tomorrow. No, no thanks. Tomorrow is laugh day. No matter what! If I trip over my chair, get a concussion and have to go to the hospital.....we WILL laugh about it.
So since I have gotten home from work, all I have done is think. Think about the things we discussed. Think about how I reacted. Think about why I reacted the way I did. I have questioned myself about WHY I have the feelings I have. I have tried to "sort" my feelings into "what am I going to do" and "how can I walk away from this" categories.
I have thought about Kate and the things that have changed in our friendship. The things we USED to do; the things we USED to discuss; and the things we USED to put ahead of everything else. And the more I think about it; the more I type about it; the more I feel like I truly am mourning the loss of the best friend I have ever had in my life. I fret that I will never have the kind of relationship...........friendship with anyone else on this big ole ball of grass and water that I had with Kate.
That's not saying that her and I won't still be friends. There are just restrictions now. Blind restrictions is how I see it. We won't say outloud what we will and won't do together. We will just "feel." Geezus H. that is sad. How do two people let this happen to themselves? *sigh*
Have you ever mourned a friendship gone wrong? Maybe not wrong.... just went the other direction I guess. How do you move on when that one person that you have always felt that sense of security with, is no longer that secure person? How do you get a relationship...a friendship with someone else that is even close to that? Because I need a person in my life. Someone that I can share these intimate things with... that maybe understands because they have their own intimate things that they need to share. And not hate me for my thoughts and not think that I'm a bad person and not run to another friend... even if that other friend is a neutral party... and share my stuff...my feelings.
My head is spinning. It's almost midnight. Gee has to be up in five hours which means I will be up in five hours. And then back to work. Maybe I can cry myself to sleep tonight. I need that hard sleep that I had the other night...but I need it in a five hour increment.
2012/06/24
Sleepy Long Day
I think it's going to be a long day. Don't ask me why. I was lying in bed this morning at 0100 hrs and could not go back to sleep. I thought I better get a blog out today so my head wasn't so busy and maybe I would sleep better tonight.
Yesterday was a normal "slow" day at the office. Nothing too strenuous really but for some reason I felt tired all day. At one point, I was sure I was going to catch a few "winx." I didn't though. I kept blaming my tiredness on the fact that I hadn't taken my meds yet. I don't have any certain time I need to take them. I just need to TAKE them. It's been evenings before I get to this the past week or so, so I didn't know why I was SO tired at this point. Still.....that's all I had to go on for being so tired.
Or was it because my dear husband came home from fishing somewhere between 0330 and 0400 hrs and the dogs went crazy.....which in turn woke my happy ass up?? That surely can't be it.
Moving on...........got lots to cover here. I have lots and lots of notes. I hope I know what they mean. I am thinking I may need to stop at the good ole Dollar General today and get me a notebook. And a little book light. My phone is way too bright to be taking notes on in the middle of the night. When I couldn't go back to sleep so early this morning, I had a million things to talk to you about. This morning, I am down to about seven things. I seem to have lost a few.
After work yesterday, I attended a family meeting "of the minds" to talk about the upcoming family reunion and it was a fun time. I have decided that this family reunion is my first step in facing my fear of public speaking. I plan to write a blog about last year's reunion and read it to them. They were all there. They know what happened. They can listen or they can go across the room and do something else. I will post that blog after it has been read to them. You're welcome.
Dinner with hubby and Aunt Grace then onto my least favorite thing to do in the world. This time at Hy-Vee . This time it was painless though. Gee helped get stuff down other aisles (mainly his own stuff) and it was quick. He even helped pay half of the bill. Kudos hubby. I got some fresh peaches. I'm going to make my very first peach pie this week. The Hot Shot deputy is going to get the pie though. He's pretty convinced I can't make one myself. I'll show him huh? I won't mention to him the part in the store where I picked up a peach and turned to my husband and said "This IS a peach, right?" This should be good.
We made it home and I was BEAT. Not in the literal sense. Don't be sending the cops to my house. I was emotionally, physically and mentally wiped out! Gee was rubbing my feet and it was too much for me. Too much work that is. AND I had a spider almost directly over my head the whole time and all I could do was lay there and wonder how I would ever move should that little asshole decide to take the ole "leapa faith." I was barely able to get up off the floor to get to my bed. It was awful. And I still don't know why...........hmmmmmm.
And I was so tired that when I headed upstairs, I told Gee he was welcome to come to bed and watch tv in the bedroom. NOTHING was going to bother me tonight! Trust me, that is a rare thing for me to say. So he did. He came to bed and watched tv. I put on my earplugs that just happened to be connected to my mp3 player and off to sleep I went.
Until 0100 hrs. All I know is my dog was downstairs barking. I was immediately wide awake. Not wide awake like you're "startled awake." Wide awake like you've had "enough sleep." Ugh! This can't be happening!!! I must have slept VERY HARD to be that well rested in about three hours time. So I had a talk with my bladder and we both compromised. I would get my happy ass up and walk down the thirteen steps to my bathroom if my bladder would go ahead and release what was in there. Because at this point, what the hell else am I going to do so early in the morning?
Took my cell phone with me to have a "night light" along the way. So I checked my facebook. Yes.....whilst I peed. Isn't THAT nice to know??? I had about eight comments.......... I don't know, it was early. People were commenting on my spider picture and saying they didn't even see a spider. Bite me people. All of you. Just bite my ass. It was on the ceiling. I was on the floor. It's not going to look huge to YOU in a photograph!!
Anyway, back to bed I go. As I'm lying there wondering why the hell I can't go back to sleep, I hear a vehicle. I don't know WHY I looked out the window but I did. Just in time to see one of the town "boys" driving off through the tall grass across from our property. Of course it was wet from the rain yesterday and he tore the shit out of it. Too bad he can't get a life. I don't know if he saw me looking out of the window or not but as soon as he messed up that property, he went home and got his motorcycle out. Who knows what trouble he got into after that. I was determined to go to sleep!
And I layed there. My mind just swirling with thoughts. I started thinking about the dogs which led to the puppies and that led me straight to thinking about my precious Bear. And my eyes started tearing up. Why the hell can't I think about this dog without crying?? It has been nine months since his death and I STILL can't get over this hurdle! Kate says that he was in my heart just like a child is in their parents' hearts. Maybe she's right. I don't know. I know I still can't read the blog I wrote about him. *sigh*
When I was in the hometown on Friday, I stopped in and saw Bear's brother, Harley. He's an amazingly beautiful dog and I fell in love with him all over again. Good dog too. He's not Bear though.
I still have a lot of notes in my phone. Not all from last night. I got to see my precious little Batman on Friday as well. It was so good to see him again. Oh yeah.....and his mom and dad! He's almost a month old and this is the first time I've seen him since the day he was born. He sure has changed but he sure is a little tiny baby. I don't think he likes his cool aunt so much though. He fussed a lot while I was holding him. And he cried once. But he was hungry. All the same, I think he's just as creeped out by me and my personality as I am by his! We should get along famously then, right?? It is yet to be determined. Only time will tell on that one.
I think I will stop for now. I have more...like I said...but it would be way too much. I don't need you overloading your brain so early in the week! Have a beautiful day folks!!
Yesterday was a normal "slow" day at the office. Nothing too strenuous really but for some reason I felt tired all day. At one point, I was sure I was going to catch a few "winx." I didn't though. I kept blaming my tiredness on the fact that I hadn't taken my meds yet. I don't have any certain time I need to take them. I just need to TAKE them. It's been evenings before I get to this the past week or so, so I didn't know why I was SO tired at this point. Still.....that's all I had to go on for being so tired.
Or was it because my dear husband came home from fishing somewhere between 0330 and 0400 hrs and the dogs went crazy.....which in turn woke my happy ass up?? That surely can't be it.
Moving on...........got lots to cover here. I have lots and lots of notes. I hope I know what they mean. I am thinking I may need to stop at the good ole Dollar General today and get me a notebook. And a little book light. My phone is way too bright to be taking notes on in the middle of the night. When I couldn't go back to sleep so early this morning, I had a million things to talk to you about. This morning, I am down to about seven things. I seem to have lost a few.
After work yesterday, I attended a family meeting "of the minds" to talk about the upcoming family reunion and it was a fun time. I have decided that this family reunion is my first step in facing my fear of public speaking. I plan to write a blog about last year's reunion and read it to them. They were all there. They know what happened. They can listen or they can go across the room and do something else. I will post that blog after it has been read to them. You're welcome.
Dinner with hubby and Aunt Grace then onto my least favorite thing to do in the world. This time at Hy-Vee . This time it was painless though. Gee helped get stuff down other aisles (mainly his own stuff) and it was quick. He even helped pay half of the bill. Kudos hubby. I got some fresh peaches. I'm going to make my very first peach pie this week. The Hot Shot deputy is going to get the pie though. He's pretty convinced I can't make one myself. I'll show him huh? I won't mention to him the part in the store where I picked up a peach and turned to my husband and said "This IS a peach, right?" This should be good.
We made it home and I was BEAT. Not in the literal sense. Don't be sending the cops to my house. I was emotionally, physically and mentally wiped out! Gee was rubbing my feet and it was too much for me. Too much work that is. AND I had a spider almost directly over my head the whole time and all I could do was lay there and wonder how I would ever move should that little asshole decide to take the ole "leapa faith." I was barely able to get up off the floor to get to my bed. It was awful. And I still don't know why...........hmmmmmm.
And I was so tired that when I headed upstairs, I told Gee he was welcome to come to bed and watch tv in the bedroom. NOTHING was going to bother me tonight! Trust me, that is a rare thing for me to say. So he did. He came to bed and watched tv. I put on my earplugs that just happened to be connected to my mp3 player and off to sleep I went.
Until 0100 hrs. All I know is my dog was downstairs barking. I was immediately wide awake. Not wide awake like you're "startled awake." Wide awake like you've had "enough sleep." Ugh! This can't be happening!!! I must have slept VERY HARD to be that well rested in about three hours time. So I had a talk with my bladder and we both compromised. I would get my happy ass up and walk down the thirteen steps to my bathroom if my bladder would go ahead and release what was in there. Because at this point, what the hell else am I going to do so early in the morning?
Took my cell phone with me to have a "night light" along the way. So I checked my facebook. Yes.....whilst I peed. Isn't THAT nice to know??? I had about eight comments.......... I don't know, it was early. People were commenting on my spider picture and saying they didn't even see a spider. Bite me people. All of you. Just bite my ass. It was on the ceiling. I was on the floor. It's not going to look huge to YOU in a photograph!!
Anyway, back to bed I go. As I'm lying there wondering why the hell I can't go back to sleep, I hear a vehicle. I don't know WHY I looked out the window but I did. Just in time to see one of the town "boys" driving off through the tall grass across from our property. Of course it was wet from the rain yesterday and he tore the shit out of it. Too bad he can't get a life. I don't know if he saw me looking out of the window or not but as soon as he messed up that property, he went home and got his motorcycle out. Who knows what trouble he got into after that. I was determined to go to sleep!
And I layed there. My mind just swirling with thoughts. I started thinking about the dogs which led to the puppies and that led me straight to thinking about my precious Bear. And my eyes started tearing up. Why the hell can't I think about this dog without crying?? It has been nine months since his death and I STILL can't get over this hurdle! Kate says that he was in my heart just like a child is in their parents' hearts. Maybe she's right. I don't know. I know I still can't read the blog I wrote about him. *sigh*
When I was in the hometown on Friday, I stopped in and saw Bear's brother, Harley. He's an amazingly beautiful dog and I fell in love with him all over again. Good dog too. He's not Bear though.
I still have a lot of notes in my phone. Not all from last night. I got to see my precious little Batman on Friday as well. It was so good to see him again. Oh yeah.....and his mom and dad! He's almost a month old and this is the first time I've seen him since the day he was born. He sure has changed but he sure is a little tiny baby. I don't think he likes his cool aunt so much though. He fussed a lot while I was holding him. And he cried once. But he was hungry. All the same, I think he's just as creeped out by me and my personality as I am by his! We should get along famously then, right?? It is yet to be determined. Only time will tell on that one.
I think I will stop for now. I have more...like I said...but it would be way too much. I don't need you overloading your brain so early in the week! Have a beautiful day folks!!
2012/06/20
I am so uncomfortable
Do you get uncomfortable when you are around people? I'm not talking, your family or your best friends. I'm talking about crowds of people. Do you get uncomfortable when you go to the grocery store? Do you get uncomfortable when you go to a wedding, graduation, baby/bridal shower? How about when you go to the doctor's office and there are people in the waiting area that you may or may not know.....and the people that you know, are people you don't know very well? Or when you're shopping...like clothes shopping...when there's an awesome sale going on. Yes, people everywhere. Do any of these situations slow you down? Stop you? Control you? Even paralyze you?
Well, to an extent I used to be afraid of about every situation I mentioned above. And more. It's true. My insides would shake at the mere thought of walking in a door and people turning their heads to look at me. I don't know HOW I got this fear. It just "became," I guess. Growing up in a town where I literally could name every person in every home, is such an "oddity" to me now, as I look back. When I go back to my hometown now, I barely know anybody. Or at least that's how I feel. I remember when we were growing up, us kids had to either walk or ride our bikes to the store. Every day. Or at least that's how it felt. Sometimes when I should have walked to the store, I still took my bike. Either the "baggers" would over-extend the bags or I would over-extend how much could be carried on my handlebars. Several times I would end up dropping groceries in the middle of the street and if someone was around, they would help me pick them up and get them to the corner or if nobody was around, I would walk a handful to the corner, come back and get more, take it to the corner, rinse and repeat.....until I got it all home.
My point being..... that never bothered me. Not once. And it didn't bother me that probably the bankers and the postmen and everybody in the courthouse watched me do this. But somewhere, somehow, that part of me that didn't care who saw me do anything stoopid or wrong or backward, left me. It slithered away in the night. Or someone stole it. I'm not sure which. I have thought that maybe a little bit of peer pressure helped that along but that's natural childhood, isn't it? Today, I am very aware of how people look at me when I respond to things. I don't know WHY I do it. I don't know WHEN I started doing it. All I know is that I do it. I don't like being the kind of person that worries about what others' think.
Going to weddings, showers or even funerals were paralyzing for me. Not so much the weddings as much as the showers or funerals. At least when you go to a wedding, you walk in (everyone looks at you) and sit down. Nobody cares about you anymore because someone else has already walked in and they are looking at them now. But showers almost paralyzed me. And to this day, I HATE the games. Yes, I truly hate them. If you ever invite me to a shower of any kind, please don't ask me to play a game. I would ten times over love MORE to go and start cleaning up or something. I can't explain WHY I don't like these games other than we usually have to either stand up and say something (which usually makes me feel stoopid) or we have to go "around the room" and give an answer (which again, makes me feel stoopid....especially if I don't know the answer) to some kind of baby question or marriage question.
Hello??? I obviously don't know anything about these things??? Why am I here again?? And funerals suck for me...well they used to. Don't worry, I'm not going to get morbid here. I hated funerals growing up because if you truly had an emotional bond.....even the teeniest bond...there were going to be emotions come up that you can't always control. I don't like crying in public. I think it's weak. To this very day, I believe it's weak. And weak isn't what I want to be known for. But then again, I don't want to be remembered as a "hard" person either. Does that make any sense? All I know is I'm glad I have never snorted at a funeral. I'll leave it at that.
The doctor's office was hard for me because I didn't "know" the people that I had to sit around. I was always so self-conscious about everything. "Do I stink? Does the person next to me stink? Does my nose work? What if I stink and can't smell myself? Can they hear me breathing? I can hear me breathing. Maybe I should hold my breath. Do I know these people? What if they speak to me? What would I even say? I wonder what my hair looks like in the back. They are probably wishing they would get called in so they don't have to look at my hair anymore." By the time I get called into the doctor's office, I have worked my blood pressure up to mountainous proportions. It didn't take long before I learned to tell them to please take my blood pressure a second time, right before I leave. And it was ALWAYS normal. Or at least my blood pressure was.
Black Friday is something that I probably don't have to even talk about but I will. For a bit. I have made myself believe that I don't like shopping.....any time of the year...because of the "horror stories" I have been told about Black Friday. I have always had a reason to not participate in that day. I have always said I would rather pay the higher price and not have the headache that (I hear) entails that day.
Now...the only one I didn't mention above is the one that is the worst for me. Public speaking. I shake from the inside out. Literally. I could never understand how the kids in school were able to go on stage and act. I was in a play when I was in the third grade. I had one line. And that was enough. I remember looking out and seeing all those people smiling back at me. I guess I'm lucky they were smiling, huh?
And the school concerts. I hated getting up in front of the school...the public...and singing. I loved chorus, don't get me wrong. And I had THE BEST chorus instructor ever, in high school. I remember once, trying out for a solo piece. Let's just say I didn't get it. Rightly so. And not because I couldn't sing the notes either. It was because I was expected to sing where EVERYBODY could see and hear me....and all the lights would be on. No dice lady. Put me back in the back row and it's all good. What was I thinking??
So, like I said, I don't know where I got these "fears." But over the years, I have made myself face them. When I go to the grocery store now...I walk in with my head held high. I don't know many people there but I make sure to smile at everyone I make eye contact with and say hello to anyone that I could reach out and touch.
When I go to a bridal shower.......okay yes, even funerals......I find something fun to think about. I don't make fun of. Don't get me wrong here. At showers, when I have to stand up and introduce myself and say how I know the person, I try to add something funny. Something personable. I remember at one bridal shower, I stood up and said my name and that the gal was "just like my own family to me; that she grew up at my house just like my nieces." And then my voice started flailing. I was going to cry. DAMMIT! My mind was going a hundred miles a minute. So I just followed up with "And now I'm starting to cry.....I don't know if it's because she's getting married or if I'm relieved someone else can help take care of her now." And they laughed...and clapped. And I was off the hook. Phew! Lesson learned. Just joke and things will be fine.
Funerals are no different. Thank God we don't have to get up and say how we know the deceased. We would never get through it. "The woman raised me right along with my mom and she scolded me and taught me right from wrong. This woman let me "be" one of her kids." Who is going to be able to say that at a funeral without crying? BUT, remember that I don't like to cry in public. I'm not saying that I don't cry at funerals...I just don't like to. So I try to look around as much as possible. I was always told you aren't supposed to look behind you when you are in church. Well...if a funeral is in a church, does that count? Because I don't like to look behind me even at a funeral. I try to figure out who people are. And usually, I like to have writing materials with me...ya know, in case I need to pass a note (in class).
Who knows, I may have a funny story to share about that person. I may need it for after the funeral when asked who I am. I can just pull a story out of "thin air." I was recently at the funeral of my second mom, Kathryn. A friend that was sitting near asked me who someone was that was sitting near us. Well, it took us a while but we finally figured it out. So when I confirmed the identity of this person, this friend says to me, "I thought she died?" I just looked at her and said "Maybe she did but she's here's paying her respects today. I guess she couldn't wait until Heaven." Go ahead and laugh. We did.
And at the doctor's office, I have changed my tune as well. I walk in...check in... give them some money... take my shoes off and sit and wait. I'm a diabetic, remember. They have to check my feet. Anyway, they always want to weigh me and they don't need to weigh anymore than they already are. But if a conversation isn't started with me within the first minute I'm in there, I will start one. Unless I'm in a bad mood. Then I don't talk to anybody I don't have to. But that truly is rare that I'm in such a bad mood I won't talk to anyone. Anyway, I have made myself start talking to people. And I force myself to make eye contact when we are talking. That took years to learn. And I don't know when it became so easy. But it is. Thank God.
And about that whole public speaking thing. I still hate it. But I want to do it. I try and try and try to make myself read things or say things...in a public forum...just because I can. I led a tour at work yesterday and was a little "tense" about doing it but once I got started on it, I felt like I was "in my element." It was great. I had a great time and the group had a great time. They asked a few questions but told me that they felt like I had given them all the facts I possibly could. I felt good afterward and so did they. A first for me.
And here's the reason I talked about being uncomfortable. I have someone in my life that is so uncomfortable with my friends and with my family, that they literally have to force themselves to go with me when I'm with friends or family. That makes me sad. And this person recently said to me with tears in their eyes, "You don't know what it's like to be uncomfortable around people. You don't know what it's like to feel like you're beneath others." Alas, I do.
And in all honesty, I put myself in a situation recently where I attended a party that consisted of two people that I knew. Just two. And it was nice. But I was uncomfortable. I felt like I didn't make enough money. I felt like my clothes weren't nice enough. And even though I was THAT uncomfortable (which is starting to feel like a new feeling for me), I would do it again in a heart beat because I feel like THAT is truly what gives us character. The feelings...the people...the places...that we force ourselves to overcome. To be the person that we want to be.
A few weeks ago, I met up with my friends Mick, Val and Bertha. We met at a restaurant that none of us had ever been to, in a town that none of us had probably ever been to or at least never spent much time in. We had a blast. It was so nice to see Mick again and finally meet his beautiful wife. I felt like "me." I didn't feel like that awkward teenager that I was the last time I saw him or "hung out" with schoolmates. Ten years ago though, I would have never done that. Fear would have kept me away. Does that make sense? Did I grow up somewhere along the way?
So, to the person in my life that thinks I'm comfortable everywhere I go.....now you know the real story. I have feelings. I have fears. And I get uncomfortable. I'm human.
And my "n" is sticking. I have to go!
Well, to an extent I used to be afraid of about every situation I mentioned above. And more. It's true. My insides would shake at the mere thought of walking in a door and people turning their heads to look at me. I don't know HOW I got this fear. It just "became," I guess. Growing up in a town where I literally could name every person in every home, is such an "oddity" to me now, as I look back. When I go back to my hometown now, I barely know anybody. Or at least that's how I feel. I remember when we were growing up, us kids had to either walk or ride our bikes to the store. Every day. Or at least that's how it felt. Sometimes when I should have walked to the store, I still took my bike. Either the "baggers" would over-extend the bags or I would over-extend how much could be carried on my handlebars. Several times I would end up dropping groceries in the middle of the street and if someone was around, they would help me pick them up and get them to the corner or if nobody was around, I would walk a handful to the corner, come back and get more, take it to the corner, rinse and repeat.....until I got it all home.
My point being..... that never bothered me. Not once. And it didn't bother me that probably the bankers and the postmen and everybody in the courthouse watched me do this. But somewhere, somehow, that part of me that didn't care who saw me do anything stoopid or wrong or backward, left me. It slithered away in the night. Or someone stole it. I'm not sure which. I have thought that maybe a little bit of peer pressure helped that along but that's natural childhood, isn't it? Today, I am very aware of how people look at me when I respond to things. I don't know WHY I do it. I don't know WHEN I started doing it. All I know is that I do it. I don't like being the kind of person that worries about what others' think.
Going to weddings, showers or even funerals were paralyzing for me. Not so much the weddings as much as the showers or funerals. At least when you go to a wedding, you walk in (everyone looks at you) and sit down. Nobody cares about you anymore because someone else has already walked in and they are looking at them now. But showers almost paralyzed me. And to this day, I HATE the games. Yes, I truly hate them. If you ever invite me to a shower of any kind, please don't ask me to play a game. I would ten times over love MORE to go and start cleaning up or something. I can't explain WHY I don't like these games other than we usually have to either stand up and say something (which usually makes me feel stoopid) or we have to go "around the room" and give an answer (which again, makes me feel stoopid....especially if I don't know the answer) to some kind of baby question or marriage question.
Hello??? I obviously don't know anything about these things??? Why am I here again?? And funerals suck for me...well they used to. Don't worry, I'm not going to get morbid here. I hated funerals growing up because if you truly had an emotional bond.....even the teeniest bond...there were going to be emotions come up that you can't always control. I don't like crying in public. I think it's weak. To this very day, I believe it's weak. And weak isn't what I want to be known for. But then again, I don't want to be remembered as a "hard" person either. Does that make any sense? All I know is I'm glad I have never snorted at a funeral. I'll leave it at that.
The doctor's office was hard for me because I didn't "know" the people that I had to sit around. I was always so self-conscious about everything. "Do I stink? Does the person next to me stink? Does my nose work? What if I stink and can't smell myself? Can they hear me breathing? I can hear me breathing. Maybe I should hold my breath. Do I know these people? What if they speak to me? What would I even say? I wonder what my hair looks like in the back. They are probably wishing they would get called in so they don't have to look at my hair anymore." By the time I get called into the doctor's office, I have worked my blood pressure up to mountainous proportions. It didn't take long before I learned to tell them to please take my blood pressure a second time, right before I leave. And it was ALWAYS normal. Or at least my blood pressure was.
Black Friday is something that I probably don't have to even talk about but I will. For a bit. I have made myself believe that I don't like shopping.....any time of the year...because of the "horror stories" I have been told about Black Friday. I have always had a reason to not participate in that day. I have always said I would rather pay the higher price and not have the headache that (I hear) entails that day.
Now...the only one I didn't mention above is the one that is the worst for me. Public speaking. I shake from the inside out. Literally. I could never understand how the kids in school were able to go on stage and act. I was in a play when I was in the third grade. I had one line. And that was enough. I remember looking out and seeing all those people smiling back at me. I guess I'm lucky they were smiling, huh?
And the school concerts. I hated getting up in front of the school...the public...and singing. I loved chorus, don't get me wrong. And I had THE BEST chorus instructor ever, in high school. I remember once, trying out for a solo piece. Let's just say I didn't get it. Rightly so. And not because I couldn't sing the notes either. It was because I was expected to sing where EVERYBODY could see and hear me....and all the lights would be on. No dice lady. Put me back in the back row and it's all good. What was I thinking??
So, like I said, I don't know where I got these "fears." But over the years, I have made myself face them. When I go to the grocery store now...I walk in with my head held high. I don't know many people there but I make sure to smile at everyone I make eye contact with and say hello to anyone that I could reach out and touch.
When I go to a bridal shower.......okay yes, even funerals......I find something fun to think about. I don't make fun of. Don't get me wrong here. At showers, when I have to stand up and introduce myself and say how I know the person, I try to add something funny. Something personable. I remember at one bridal shower, I stood up and said my name and that the gal was "just like my own family to me; that she grew up at my house just like my nieces." And then my voice started flailing. I was going to cry. DAMMIT! My mind was going a hundred miles a minute. So I just followed up with "And now I'm starting to cry.....I don't know if it's because she's getting married or if I'm relieved someone else can help take care of her now." And they laughed...and clapped. And I was off the hook. Phew! Lesson learned. Just joke and things will be fine.
Funerals are no different. Thank God we don't have to get up and say how we know the deceased. We would never get through it. "The woman raised me right along with my mom and she scolded me and taught me right from wrong. This woman let me "be" one of her kids." Who is going to be able to say that at a funeral without crying? BUT, remember that I don't like to cry in public. I'm not saying that I don't cry at funerals...I just don't like to. So I try to look around as much as possible. I was always told you aren't supposed to look behind you when you are in church. Well...if a funeral is in a church, does that count? Because I don't like to look behind me even at a funeral. I try to figure out who people are. And usually, I like to have writing materials with me...ya know, in case I need to pass a note (in class).
Who knows, I may have a funny story to share about that person. I may need it for after the funeral when asked who I am. I can just pull a story out of "thin air." I was recently at the funeral of my second mom, Kathryn. A friend that was sitting near asked me who someone was that was sitting near us. Well, it took us a while but we finally figured it out. So when I confirmed the identity of this person, this friend says to me, "I thought she died?" I just looked at her and said "Maybe she did but she's here's paying her respects today. I guess she couldn't wait until Heaven." Go ahead and laugh. We did.
And at the doctor's office, I have changed my tune as well. I walk in...check in... give them some money... take my shoes off and sit and wait. I'm a diabetic, remember. They have to check my feet. Anyway, they always want to weigh me and they don't need to weigh anymore than they already are. But if a conversation isn't started with me within the first minute I'm in there, I will start one. Unless I'm in a bad mood. Then I don't talk to anybody I don't have to. But that truly is rare that I'm in such a bad mood I won't talk to anyone. Anyway, I have made myself start talking to people. And I force myself to make eye contact when we are talking. That took years to learn. And I don't know when it became so easy. But it is. Thank God.
And about that whole public speaking thing. I still hate it. But I want to do it. I try and try and try to make myself read things or say things...in a public forum...just because I can. I led a tour at work yesterday and was a little "tense" about doing it but once I got started on it, I felt like I was "in my element." It was great. I had a great time and the group had a great time. They asked a few questions but told me that they felt like I had given them all the facts I possibly could. I felt good afterward and so did they. A first for me.
And here's the reason I talked about being uncomfortable. I have someone in my life that is so uncomfortable with my friends and with my family, that they literally have to force themselves to go with me when I'm with friends or family. That makes me sad. And this person recently said to me with tears in their eyes, "You don't know what it's like to be uncomfortable around people. You don't know what it's like to feel like you're beneath others." Alas, I do.
And in all honesty, I put myself in a situation recently where I attended a party that consisted of two people that I knew. Just two. And it was nice. But I was uncomfortable. I felt like I didn't make enough money. I felt like my clothes weren't nice enough. And even though I was THAT uncomfortable (which is starting to feel like a new feeling for me), I would do it again in a heart beat because I feel like THAT is truly what gives us character. The feelings...the people...the places...that we force ourselves to overcome. To be the person that we want to be.
A few weeks ago, I met up with my friends Mick, Val and Bertha. We met at a restaurant that none of us had ever been to, in a town that none of us had probably ever been to or at least never spent much time in. We had a blast. It was so nice to see Mick again and finally meet his beautiful wife. I felt like "me." I didn't feel like that awkward teenager that I was the last time I saw him or "hung out" with schoolmates. Ten years ago though, I would have never done that. Fear would have kept me away. Does that make sense? Did I grow up somewhere along the way?
So, to the person in my life that thinks I'm comfortable everywhere I go.....now you know the real story. I have feelings. I have fears. And I get uncomfortable. I'm human.
And my "n" is sticking. I have to go!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)