I used to go to church, even when I was a girl I would make my mother drop me off there and I would spend the day. I would go to Sunday school then stay for choir practice then attend services. I had a white king James version Bible given to me by my grandmother which I would bring with me I still have it, along with about 6 other bibles which I have collected or inherited over the years. They all sit in my book case gathering dust, gently admonishing me to straighten out my life, their pleas falling on deaf ears.
My life with respect to religious belief has been interesting as I grew up in a very diverse neighborhood and while we were culturally christian we weren't militant in the belief that our way was the only way. My best friend and next door neighbor was one of Jehovah's witnesses, the kid across the street was Jewish, most of my friends were Catholic, my father's business associate was Greek orthodox, my great grandmother was a born again christian and we were Lutheran. I attended services with all of them, I wanted to because I was hunting for God.
As I have gotten older my search for God has become more subtle. I have stopped looking for the formula, the "right religion, the right prayers" to get God to hear me and grant my desires. It seems so silly to me that I lived my life like that for so long, if my prayer is pleasing to God I will prosper, if my prayer is pleasing to God my daughter will be kept from harm. I turn on the t.v. daily and see people holier then me by far being wiped out by natural disasters, see distraught parents burying beautiful children taken from them senselessly.
I used to like to go sit quietly in front of the tabernacle in church, in front of the consecrated host, Jesus himself and pray. I had a little blue prayer book and I would recite all of these prayers, I would do a rosary and then I would thank God for all that was good in my life, then I'd ask a few small favors. One day I looked at the tabernacle and got so irate, in my mind I started berating God, how dare you stay locked safely in that box while we suffer out here? Why do you think you are so special giving your only begotten son when you are God??? So many human mother's and father's have given their only begotten sons and daughters. These human children have suffered physical fates worse then Jesus' death in some cases I'm thinking of Jessica Lundsford snatched from her bed raped and buried alive clutching a stuffed animal.
Where is this God, who allegedly created us this way? Are we created in his image? Why is it blasphemy to ask such questions? If God created us so poorly that the very first humans who were allegedly closer to perfection and had direct communication with him succumbed to temptation where does that leave us today?
These are stressful times to live in, war, climate changes, pedophiles with their own constitutionally protected web sites extolling the virtues of love for "lg's" little girls, but I am here now and I am glad. I look around me at the sheer beauty not just of the visible world but of atoms and molecules, of mathematical equations and of the people who generation after generation keep doggedly pursuing answers to questions, and I am filled with awe. I have come to believe that the real root of all evil is ignorance. The only thing that gives me hope is the small opportunity I have in this world to eradicate it, and to that end I have recently joined a new church, the church of higher education. Wish me luck as I embark on this next part of my journey.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
the art of being human
I don't remember the year that I met her, I think 2002. It was over the summer, she was my professor for a phych course I needed for the nursing program. I was not looking forward to the class because next to ob/gyn and peds I hate psych the most. I knew that I would never choose to work with psychiatric patients voluntarily and so learning about them struck me as a waste of my valuable time. There was a delay in the start of the program because of some nebulous problem on her part. When she finally did show up she was all in a dither, a rolling suite case behind her.
She introduced herself and apologised stating that she had just arrived from an archaeological dig in Israel which had been cut short due to illness. She said that she had been through a whirlwind of tests in the past few days and I noticed an ugly bruise in the crook of her arm. I thought that if I had to endure a class I wasn't particularly interested in at least the professor was shaping up to be interesting.
The course required us to experience locked wards where we met some very sick patients. It was very frightening as some of them appeared as though they could be dangerous. She was always kind to the patients and to her students, she had a wide eyed gentile innocence as well as a keen understanding of both groups and was perfect in getting us to interact in a way that was beneficial to all.
At some point the tests that she had undergone at the beginning of the course revealed that she had cancer. I honestly can't remember if it was ovarian or uterine, but she told us that the tumor was inoperable and that she would try a round of chemo to see if that would reduce it's size. That's when the most amazing things started happening, because facing her mortality with her changed the entire focus of the class.
I remember sitting in a conference room on the locked ward at Brookhaven hospital as she was telling us about her tumor. A student asked her a question about it and she literally took the students hand and extended the girls fingers and helped her palpate the tumor. She told us that this was all happening very fast and that she was having a little difficulty assimilating it all, she then broke down sobbing and told us that we would be her last class, she told us that we would get through this together. Because of her extensive training in psychiatric nursing I had to trust that she would be able to Shepard us through the wild roller coaster ride of emotions.
She made a point to get to know each student, and especially sharing with each student the positive qualities she found in them. She also would pick a different student to help her wheel her suite case of books to her car each day. It gave us extra time with her and allowed us to feel as though we were helping a woman who we now viewed as our friend. When the conversation drifted from psychiatric nursing to her illness, always her primary focus was how the others around her were dealing with her illness particularly her children and husband, but us as well.
As the course progressed the tumor grew larger and we watched her girth expand, yet she was determined to complete this course with us. One day during a lecture in the classroom she became overwhelmed with pain, a lab assistant brought a geri chair and she sat down, they then put her head way down and her feet up in an effort to reduce the pressure the tumor was exerting on the pelvic floor and reduce the pain (this she shared with us as a nursing intervention). We all sat there in rapt attention as she continued to lecture us virtually upside down, her color pale almost green, the roots of her long hair which grazed the floor were damp with perspiration.
The class ended and she invited us to dinner at her house, it was a beautiful day as I recall, sunny and warm but not humid as it was toward the fall. Her home was lovely somewhere on the north shore overlooking water, high ceilings sunny and peaceful. We ate and then we walked a while on the beach, then the pain became overwhelming for her so we headed home where she lay in the bed waiting for the morphine to kick in. Instead of asking us to leave she invited us to sit on her bed with her until the waves of pain subsided and we knew she was better. Then we said our final goodbyes to someone we had honestly grown to love.
We got word of her passing later that fall, the funeral is a blur to me I know I was there because I have a prayer card I remember her husband asking all of the students who came if we'd like to join them for dinner afterward, but we declined feeling awkward and not looking to prolong our pain. At out pinning we honored her as best we could, there was a slide show and readings, her husband and daughter were there in her place to watch her last class graduate. needless to say there were plenty of tears.
In December 2003 I got a call from a former professor to verify my address. When they were going through my deceased professors papers they found notes to some of her students, and there was one for me. Just before Christmas I received a short hand written note. the letters are wispy as though she didn't have the strength to press the pen to the paper. there are extra letters inserted in the words as if the pen was writing faster then the morphine allowed her brain to think. The message was simple, she thanked me for my work and admonished me to study hard. The final line says I'll never forget that you are an angel, love you.
I only knew her for 6 weeks, I didn't see her every day, and the days I did see her were only for a couple hours. She passed 5 years ago and yet all I have to do is think of her and I cry. She taught us so much more then the art of nursing, she taught us the art of being human.
She introduced herself and apologised stating that she had just arrived from an archaeological dig in Israel which had been cut short due to illness. She said that she had been through a whirlwind of tests in the past few days and I noticed an ugly bruise in the crook of her arm. I thought that if I had to endure a class I wasn't particularly interested in at least the professor was shaping up to be interesting.
The course required us to experience locked wards where we met some very sick patients. It was very frightening as some of them appeared as though they could be dangerous. She was always kind to the patients and to her students, she had a wide eyed gentile innocence as well as a keen understanding of both groups and was perfect in getting us to interact in a way that was beneficial to all.
At some point the tests that she had undergone at the beginning of the course revealed that she had cancer. I honestly can't remember if it was ovarian or uterine, but she told us that the tumor was inoperable and that she would try a round of chemo to see if that would reduce it's size. That's when the most amazing things started happening, because facing her mortality with her changed the entire focus of the class.
I remember sitting in a conference room on the locked ward at Brookhaven hospital as she was telling us about her tumor. A student asked her a question about it and she literally took the students hand and extended the girls fingers and helped her palpate the tumor. She told us that this was all happening very fast and that she was having a little difficulty assimilating it all, she then broke down sobbing and told us that we would be her last class, she told us that we would get through this together. Because of her extensive training in psychiatric nursing I had to trust that she would be able to Shepard us through the wild roller coaster ride of emotions.
She made a point to get to know each student, and especially sharing with each student the positive qualities she found in them. She also would pick a different student to help her wheel her suite case of books to her car each day. It gave us extra time with her and allowed us to feel as though we were helping a woman who we now viewed as our friend. When the conversation drifted from psychiatric nursing to her illness, always her primary focus was how the others around her were dealing with her illness particularly her children and husband, but us as well.
As the course progressed the tumor grew larger and we watched her girth expand, yet she was determined to complete this course with us. One day during a lecture in the classroom she became overwhelmed with pain, a lab assistant brought a geri chair and she sat down, they then put her head way down and her feet up in an effort to reduce the pressure the tumor was exerting on the pelvic floor and reduce the pain (this she shared with us as a nursing intervention). We all sat there in rapt attention as she continued to lecture us virtually upside down, her color pale almost green, the roots of her long hair which grazed the floor were damp with perspiration.
The class ended and she invited us to dinner at her house, it was a beautiful day as I recall, sunny and warm but not humid as it was toward the fall. Her home was lovely somewhere on the north shore overlooking water, high ceilings sunny and peaceful. We ate and then we walked a while on the beach, then the pain became overwhelming for her so we headed home where she lay in the bed waiting for the morphine to kick in. Instead of asking us to leave she invited us to sit on her bed with her until the waves of pain subsided and we knew she was better. Then we said our final goodbyes to someone we had honestly grown to love.
We got word of her passing later that fall, the funeral is a blur to me I know I was there because I have a prayer card I remember her husband asking all of the students who came if we'd like to join them for dinner afterward, but we declined feeling awkward and not looking to prolong our pain. At out pinning we honored her as best we could, there was a slide show and readings, her husband and daughter were there in her place to watch her last class graduate. needless to say there were plenty of tears.
In December 2003 I got a call from a former professor to verify my address. When they were going through my deceased professors papers they found notes to some of her students, and there was one for me. Just before Christmas I received a short hand written note. the letters are wispy as though she didn't have the strength to press the pen to the paper. there are extra letters inserted in the words as if the pen was writing faster then the morphine allowed her brain to think. The message was simple, she thanked me for my work and admonished me to study hard. The final line says I'll never forget that you are an angel, love you.
I only knew her for 6 weeks, I didn't see her every day, and the days I did see her were only for a couple hours. She passed 5 years ago and yet all I have to do is think of her and I cry. She taught us so much more then the art of nursing, she taught us the art of being human.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Laura's wedding
I went to a neighbors wedding yesterday, she is my age and it was her second marriage. It was beautiful... in her sisters backyard, casual but elegant. As I walked into the back yard where the ceremony was to take place my eyes were drawn to this ENORMOUS woman... this was not just pleasingly plump...this was the Venus of Willendorf with feet...You know I go to these functions alone 'cause Ray is married and I'm looking at this formidable woman thinking to myself I bet she's got a date...and lo and behold she was being followed by this skinny short man who was not only her date but live in lover as well...
Once I got my bearings I remembered that I knew them both, graciously they adopted their single acquaintance to their table. Eventually things settled down and the ceremony began. The minister said some lovely words about marriage everyone welled up with tears. Everyone including me, I guess we cry for different reasons. When I was married to my ex and I attended weddings I cried 'cause I'd listen to the vows and know that I'd married the wrong person. Yesterday I listened to the vows and cried 'cause the right person is married to someone else. Of course marriage changes people, and I also wonder how marriage would change us. I like to think that because we're older 41 and 55, that we'd be immune to the pitfalls that younger people fall into, but I wonder if marriage is somehow a recipe for disaster.
I think the wedding vows suck and that the problem starts there. Vows should go something like this:
I think I know who you are, and based on this I choose to enter more deeply into a relationship with you.
Today in front of God, family and friends I promise to love you, to treat your heart and soul gently as I would have my own treated. I promise to continue to get to know you daily, to speak with you to make love with you. And as I get to know you I promise to help you achieve your dreams and goals, and to daily remember this precious fragile ephemeral love which is between us and nurture it. This is the center of the world for us, it is to this we retreat at the end of the day and from which we emerge renewed and refreshed into the world. When we keep our love strong we can go forth clear headed and confident to face the challenges of life.
I think a big problem with marriage is that there is no escape clause. the vows should not end untill death do us part, they should end with something like I swear to do my level best with you and I expect the same from you. I will keep myself healthy physically, emotionally and spiritually and I expect the same from you. I will not suffer you to watch my abuse and neglect myself because I know you love me and I know you will do the same for me. I promise you today that I will strive to be part of the soloution not the source of any problems for us and I expect the same of you. I swear to you today that I will do everything in my power for as long as I can to nurture and grow our love and our life. But I would not condemn you to a life of suffering with me if I do not uphold my end of the agreement and I say to you today infront of God and these witnesses I will not stay with you if you do not hold up your end of this marriage. Isn't that better????
Well anyway the wedding was wonderful, the kids swam in the pool next door...the men lit off fireworks in the driveway, and the bride and groom wound their way slowly and happily through their guests. These two have come through a lot collectively, they know what they have in each other, it was beautiful to see and I feel privileged to have shared their wedding day with them.
Once I got my bearings I remembered that I knew them both, graciously they adopted their single acquaintance to their table. Eventually things settled down and the ceremony began. The minister said some lovely words about marriage everyone welled up with tears. Everyone including me, I guess we cry for different reasons. When I was married to my ex and I attended weddings I cried 'cause I'd listen to the vows and know that I'd married the wrong person. Yesterday I listened to the vows and cried 'cause the right person is married to someone else. Of course marriage changes people, and I also wonder how marriage would change us. I like to think that because we're older 41 and 55, that we'd be immune to the pitfalls that younger people fall into, but I wonder if marriage is somehow a recipe for disaster.
I think the wedding vows suck and that the problem starts there. Vows should go something like this:
I think I know who you are, and based on this I choose to enter more deeply into a relationship with you.
Today in front of God, family and friends I promise to love you, to treat your heart and soul gently as I would have my own treated. I promise to continue to get to know you daily, to speak with you to make love with you. And as I get to know you I promise to help you achieve your dreams and goals, and to daily remember this precious fragile ephemeral love which is between us and nurture it. This is the center of the world for us, it is to this we retreat at the end of the day and from which we emerge renewed and refreshed into the world. When we keep our love strong we can go forth clear headed and confident to face the challenges of life.
I think a big problem with marriage is that there is no escape clause. the vows should not end untill death do us part, they should end with something like I swear to do my level best with you and I expect the same from you. I will keep myself healthy physically, emotionally and spiritually and I expect the same from you. I will not suffer you to watch my abuse and neglect myself because I know you love me and I know you will do the same for me. I promise you today that I will strive to be part of the soloution not the source of any problems for us and I expect the same of you. I swear to you today that I will do everything in my power for as long as I can to nurture and grow our love and our life. But I would not condemn you to a life of suffering with me if I do not uphold my end of the agreement and I say to you today infront of God and these witnesses I will not stay with you if you do not hold up your end of this marriage. Isn't that better????
Well anyway the wedding was wonderful, the kids swam in the pool next door...the men lit off fireworks in the driveway, and the bride and groom wound their way slowly and happily through their guests. These two have come through a lot collectively, they know what they have in each other, it was beautiful to see and I feel privileged to have shared their wedding day with them.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
the gynecologist
The other day I had a gynecologist appointment, I arrived to a waiting room which looked like it hadn't been decorated since 1984. The dirt/khaki color rug next to the tacky mauve floral print wall paper accented with a dusty faux palm tree. The lights were dim, perhaps to save on the electric bill or perhaps to hide the ugliness of the office. The staff greeted me with a hearty "we need to make a copy of your insurance card". I sat in the office surrounded by motherhood magazine...eeewwww as if I'm remotely interested in pregnancy @ this stage of my life. So I watched some morning talk show with a staff member who came out to hand me my insurance card and became enthralled with the show as she dangled my card just out of my reach. I was then called in to the exam room by a sweet young lady who never did introduce herself to me, there she took my blood pressure and gave me the usual paper garments with the instructions to put it on with the opening in the back. And there I sat... in the cold as my toes turned blue listening to the muffled tones of the staff talking and laughing outside the door for what felt like an eternity until the Doctor came in...He spent probably 5 minutes with me and I left with a prescription for a sonogram a surgical referral and a vague feeling that he didn't hear a word I said.
Later that day I had an appointment for a haircut and as a treat I decided I'd get a facial as well. upon entering the salon I was greeted with a friendly " Hi, Lisa". I was asked to please take a seat until my stylist was available, I was offered a beverage and a snack and there was better reading material available. As I was getting my hair cut a young lady came over and introduced herself to me and told me she'd be doing my facial. when my haircut was finished she led me to a quiet room gave me a soft robe to put on, I was instructed to lie on the table with my head on a pillow and she then wrapped me up in blankets and put a towel on my head. She covered my eyes with a cloth so the light would not bother me as I tried to relax and then she engaged in pleasant small talk as well as keeping me informed about what she was doing so I wouldn't be taken by surprise.
lying on that table just short hours after my gyn visit got me to thinking about the vast differences in those two experiences. I'm kind of speechless actually. It's my own fault for thinking so low of myself to stay with a doctor who specializes in women's health and yet so obviously knows nothing about the needs of the population whom he serves. I had an epiphany during the facial... I am worthy of an experience which preserves my dignity, an experience which leaves me feeling respected and validated...not empty and violated... I'm in the market for a new gynecologists...I will be printing this out and sending it to the old gynecologists in hopes that he will clean up his act...
Later that day I had an appointment for a haircut and as a treat I decided I'd get a facial as well. upon entering the salon I was greeted with a friendly " Hi, Lisa". I was asked to please take a seat until my stylist was available, I was offered a beverage and a snack and there was better reading material available. As I was getting my hair cut a young lady came over and introduced herself to me and told me she'd be doing my facial. when my haircut was finished she led me to a quiet room gave me a soft robe to put on, I was instructed to lie on the table with my head on a pillow and she then wrapped me up in blankets and put a towel on my head. She covered my eyes with a cloth so the light would not bother me as I tried to relax and then she engaged in pleasant small talk as well as keeping me informed about what she was doing so I wouldn't be taken by surprise.
lying on that table just short hours after my gyn visit got me to thinking about the vast differences in those two experiences. I'm kind of speechless actually. It's my own fault for thinking so low of myself to stay with a doctor who specializes in women's health and yet so obviously knows nothing about the needs of the population whom he serves. I had an epiphany during the facial... I am worthy of an experience which preserves my dignity, an experience which leaves me feeling respected and validated...not empty and violated... I'm in the market for a new gynecologists...I will be printing this out and sending it to the old gynecologists in hopes that he will clean up his act...
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
stuff of my own
What does it mean to own something??? I have been told recently that I don't feel worthy of having anything of my own...I've been ruminating on this for months. At first it upset me and I set about making plans to aquire some of those things that I apparently don't feel worthy of, namely a husband and a home.
Regarding the husband I got to thinking, I do miss the second income, and the freedom the extra money provides...However I do not miss the extra cooking cleaning laundry and conflict. When I was married there always seemed to be what he wanted vs what I wanted and it felt like we both ended up loosers... Of course what he wanted was someone content to eat on a 20$ a week budget...and live in a 1 bedroom apartment for the rest of her life...but I digress...
So can you really have a husband of your "own"??? my husband had a child with another women befor he met me she was married and wouldn't leave her husband for him (BECAUSE HE WAS TOO BROKE) but he never got over her it was that whole forbidden fruit thing...so she had a husband and he had a wife and they had eachother so what does it mean to have someone of your "own".
what about a house??? what about all those poor people who were wiped out by Katrina?? They worked hard all their lives they had insurance and they had a place of their "own". Had a place, now they have memories and heartache. what about people who "owned" houses but got sick and lost the ability to pay for them...now they don't have anything either...and why do I want a house of my "own"??? I would be spending upwards of 60% of my current income for a very small place which I wouldn't be able to decorate the way I wanted or maintain properly with out working a second job...and if I worked a second job I wouldn't be home to enjoy the house...you see I could go on and on...and then there's eminent domain to worry about....
I keep going back to this...do we ever really know a person??? do we ever really know ourselves as a matter of fact??? and If we don't fully know ourselves ('cause we busy ourselves with the pursuit of owning stuff) how can we fully know another?? We pick a person with whom we think we share things in common with whether it's values or hobbies or church and then we build a "relationship" around that. We show different facets of ourselves to our significant other and if they like it (positive reinforcement) we add more of that and if they don't we hide it. Sometimes this is insignificant but other times burying part of your personality has bad implications...life is hard enough...why do I want to complicate it with someone of my "own"??
values change subtly from age to age, and even the most objective and learned amongst us cannot help but be influenced by the culture we all find ourselves immersed in. Do we seek to aquire things simply because "that's just what you do"?? It gives us something in common with our fellow man and thus satisfies that primal need for belonging??? Ultimatly we end up alone 6 feet underground, our home a small pine box..
Regarding the husband I got to thinking, I do miss the second income, and the freedom the extra money provides...However I do not miss the extra cooking cleaning laundry and conflict. When I was married there always seemed to be what he wanted vs what I wanted and it felt like we both ended up loosers... Of course what he wanted was someone content to eat on a 20$ a week budget...and live in a 1 bedroom apartment for the rest of her life...but I digress...
So can you really have a husband of your "own"??? my husband had a child with another women befor he met me she was married and wouldn't leave her husband for him (BECAUSE HE WAS TOO BROKE) but he never got over her it was that whole forbidden fruit thing...so she had a husband and he had a wife and they had eachother so what does it mean to have someone of your "own".
what about a house??? what about all those poor people who were wiped out by Katrina?? They worked hard all their lives they had insurance and they had a place of their "own". Had a place, now they have memories and heartache. what about people who "owned" houses but got sick and lost the ability to pay for them...now they don't have anything either...and why do I want a house of my "own"??? I would be spending upwards of 60% of my current income for a very small place which I wouldn't be able to decorate the way I wanted or maintain properly with out working a second job...and if I worked a second job I wouldn't be home to enjoy the house...you see I could go on and on...and then there's eminent domain to worry about....
I keep going back to this...do we ever really know a person??? do we ever really know ourselves as a matter of fact??? and If we don't fully know ourselves ('cause we busy ourselves with the pursuit of owning stuff) how can we fully know another?? We pick a person with whom we think we share things in common with whether it's values or hobbies or church and then we build a "relationship" around that. We show different facets of ourselves to our significant other and if they like it (positive reinforcement) we add more of that and if they don't we hide it. Sometimes this is insignificant but other times burying part of your personality has bad implications...life is hard enough...why do I want to complicate it with someone of my "own"??
values change subtly from age to age, and even the most objective and learned amongst us cannot help but be influenced by the culture we all find ourselves immersed in. Do we seek to aquire things simply because "that's just what you do"?? It gives us something in common with our fellow man and thus satisfies that primal need for belonging??? Ultimatly we end up alone 6 feet underground, our home a small pine box..
Friday, May 04, 2007
funeral for a friend
I've been thinking about death lately, Not that that would be unusual for me. In my group dynamics class we did a project about death and we staged a funeral ( I got to be the dead person). It was surreal to "plan" my funeral. I made a photo montage of my life, prayer cards, and a program. We got coffee and cookies and tricked the professor into eulogising me, and we made a "coffin". The coffin was made out of corrugated cardboard painted brown and crudely taped together with wide shiny scotch tape. I lay inside the box clutching flowers and an icon as my stunned classmates filed past. I looked out at them feeling quite sure that this was one of the stranger things I've experienced.
Yesterday I learned that a former coworker had passed away rather suddenly at a young age leaving his wife and 2 teenage children, today I attended his wake. It was pretty much the same as mine, except there were more photos and flowers, the coffin was of much better quality and of course he was dead, I am sure however he was watching us from somewhere else with that same surreal feeling which I had in class. It was packed to the rafters with people but it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. There was nothing to say sitting in front of someone who was so young and in love with life but who was so dead. So we sat there together in silence.
Tonight I sat on my bed looking out of my window which framed the deepening blue sky. One bright star was shining as a few wispy grey clouds wafted by. Some people in the neighborhood were setting off fire works, nothing fancy just bottle rockets. The orange glowing tips trailed by erratic tails of sparkles ending with a whistle and a pop. The smell of spring blew in on the gentle cool evening breeze, to the sound of my daughter happily talking to her girlfriend on the phone, made my heart ache with the beauty of it all. It got me to thinking.
Thinking the future is certain is foolishness, thinking if life is not good then it's bad is foolishness. It is what it is, complex, sometimes violent, sometimes gentle, messy, funny beautiful. It is an incomprehensible gift, and tonight as I breathe this sweet air and kiss my daughter goodnight I offer a prayer of thanksgiving for this life just the way it is.
Yesterday I learned that a former coworker had passed away rather suddenly at a young age leaving his wife and 2 teenage children, today I attended his wake. It was pretty much the same as mine, except there were more photos and flowers, the coffin was of much better quality and of course he was dead, I am sure however he was watching us from somewhere else with that same surreal feeling which I had in class. It was packed to the rafters with people but it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. There was nothing to say sitting in front of someone who was so young and in love with life but who was so dead. So we sat there together in silence.
Tonight I sat on my bed looking out of my window which framed the deepening blue sky. One bright star was shining as a few wispy grey clouds wafted by. Some people in the neighborhood were setting off fire works, nothing fancy just bottle rockets. The orange glowing tips trailed by erratic tails of sparkles ending with a whistle and a pop. The smell of spring blew in on the gentle cool evening breeze, to the sound of my daughter happily talking to her girlfriend on the phone, made my heart ache with the beauty of it all. It got me to thinking.
Thinking the future is certain is foolishness, thinking if life is not good then it's bad is foolishness. It is what it is, complex, sometimes violent, sometimes gentle, messy, funny beautiful. It is an incomprehensible gift, and tonight as I breathe this sweet air and kiss my daughter goodnight I offer a prayer of thanksgiving for this life just the way it is.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
The virtue of holding a grudge
I've been wanting to blog about forgiveness. To forgive all the people who I think have done me wrong, how do I do that???? I hate these fucking people. They hurt me....ME...imagine??? beautiful, perfect me...such a delicate refined and gentile creature has not put her lovely footprint on the face of this earth before I arrived and these bastards keep fucking with me!!!! Now being the perfect creature that I am I want to forgive all of those who have offended me, because I have been lead to believe that this is what enlightened beings do.
To forgive means (per Mr. Webster) to grant pardon for or remission of an offence...to absolve...TO CEASE TO FEEL RESENTMENT (we will address resentment later) Oh how do I do this???? when I think so highly of my dignity that people keep offending??? It is such a lofty goal, and God in his infinite wisdom gives us the Lord's prayer "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us" . Well that kind of throws a monkey wrench in the works, doesn't it???
I am struggling with this because I have some serious shit I have to forgive people for. I am carrying around some feelings that the word hate is barely adequate to cover. I went out into this world pure and innocent like a unicorn. The filthy creatures of this world seeing something beautiful came and tore my throat out, repeatedly (if that is possible). The broken promises, the betrayals were more then I could bear, the only thing stronger then the pain they caused is the hate that has grown in my heart, it protects me and I like that.
And this is the cool thing (if there can be a cool thing with hate) It feels good to hate. Now I am in no way advocating "bad hate" like hating people simply because they're of a particular race/religion/sexual orientation. Oh but it feels good to hate the person who did you wrong!!! If you are a civilized person you can't go out and physically attack the person or his property. But hating them and hoping you get to live to see that bastard get what's coming to them, well I'm having a problem thinking that's wrong.
Because there are enumerable offences committed against me that I cannot retaliate against because it is both illegal and impractical, my only recourse is hate. When I hate someone who I perceived has hurt me I feel good because there is no justice in this world for them and I feel like I am punishing them with my hatred. then I can expand on this good feeling with resentment. "re" is a prefix stuck in front of a word and it means literally "again and again". (Websters) "sentir" is Latin and it means "to feel" . So with my resentment I get to punish the offender with my hatred over and over again.
Isn't it interesting though, the word resent has come to be associated with only negative??? I mean think about it, the word itself is neutral. We could feel good things or bad things over and over. I could have had a beautiful day andI could revisit those beautiful "sentiments", but then I would not call that "resentment". You only have to look at the world today to see that humans are more easily given to hatred. Look at all the Muslims who hate America because of real and perceived wrongs. Hate is indeed very real and powerful, and must have great rewards to perpetuate itself so.
So....how do I forgive??? How do I begin to want to forgive? Why is it OK for people to hurt me, and if it's not OK, how do I hold them accountable with out having negative feelings toward them??? How do I look at that person and not feel the pain over and over??? I have no idea really, but I promise I will continue to try.
To forgive means (per Mr. Webster) to grant pardon for or remission of an offence...to absolve...TO CEASE TO FEEL RESENTMENT (we will address resentment later) Oh how do I do this???? when I think so highly of my dignity that people keep offending??? It is such a lofty goal, and God in his infinite wisdom gives us the Lord's prayer "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us" . Well that kind of throws a monkey wrench in the works, doesn't it???
I am struggling with this because I have some serious shit I have to forgive people for. I am carrying around some feelings that the word hate is barely adequate to cover. I went out into this world pure and innocent like a unicorn. The filthy creatures of this world seeing something beautiful came and tore my throat out, repeatedly (if that is possible). The broken promises, the betrayals were more then I could bear, the only thing stronger then the pain they caused is the hate that has grown in my heart, it protects me and I like that.
And this is the cool thing (if there can be a cool thing with hate) It feels good to hate. Now I am in no way advocating "bad hate" like hating people simply because they're of a particular race/religion/sexual orientation. Oh but it feels good to hate the person who did you wrong!!! If you are a civilized person you can't go out and physically attack the person or his property. But hating them and hoping you get to live to see that bastard get what's coming to them, well I'm having a problem thinking that's wrong.
Because there are enumerable offences committed against me that I cannot retaliate against because it is both illegal and impractical, my only recourse is hate. When I hate someone who I perceived has hurt me I feel good because there is no justice in this world for them and I feel like I am punishing them with my hatred. then I can expand on this good feeling with resentment. "re" is a prefix stuck in front of a word and it means literally "again and again". (Websters) "sentir" is Latin and it means "to feel" . So with my resentment I get to punish the offender with my hatred over and over again.
Isn't it interesting though, the word resent has come to be associated with only negative??? I mean think about it, the word itself is neutral. We could feel good things or bad things over and over. I could have had a beautiful day andI could revisit those beautiful "sentiments", but then I would not call that "resentment". You only have to look at the world today to see that humans are more easily given to hatred. Look at all the Muslims who hate America because of real and perceived wrongs. Hate is indeed very real and powerful, and must have great rewards to perpetuate itself so.
So....how do I forgive??? How do I begin to want to forgive? Why is it OK for people to hurt me, and if it's not OK, how do I hold them accountable with out having negative feelings toward them??? How do I look at that person and not feel the pain over and over??? I have no idea really, but I promise I will continue to try.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Happiness is wanting what you have
Last year I declared 2006 to be the year of "being happy to be single" not that I am entirely single, but I wanted to get comfortable with my life. It's difficult being with Ray sometimes. It's hard because I am excluded from some events because people generally travel in couples and obviously Ray and I can't do that. Holidays are hard because I can't be with him on those days, though I always receive a thoughtful gift and sometimes a phone call. Some of the relatives that I am closer to know about Ray and have met him, but when the family gathers many relatives don't know him and and so we can't acknowledge his existence. It's lonely sometimes in any gathering your spouse is your "fall back" you God given refuge at a hostile or boring event, he is someone to whom you can go for a quick conversation or reassurance.
People say to me "you're beautiful [an exaggeration] you're intelligent, why would you stay with a married man, you're worth more then that" I've been married, it meant nothing. It did not prevent my husband or me from cheating, when the pastor blessed us it did not heal all the brokenness inside us and allow us to be committed spouses. There are things that I'm still struggling with, like he's going for surgery and I won't be able to be there and talk to the doctors/nurses for him. I know it would be easier for him if I could, I won't be able to see him or take care of him. I worry about things like if he should become seriously ill or die, will it be days before I find out. Will the funeral be over and I won't have gotten to say goodbye?
When women gather and talk about their houses and husbands I cannot join the conversation, and certainly some of the people on the periphery of my life have questioned my sexuality as I am apparently single for a long time. But being a nurse does something to you, at least it did something to me. I am keenly aware the my life could be over at any time. not only that but I could get a life changing diagnosis like breast cancer or multiple sclerosis or 100's of other things and I have taken care of many people who's spouses have left them in a lurch. So I've come to the conclusion that marriage means more to lawyers and court systems then it does to people. I've stopped feeling bad that I don't have a husband, a home of my own and a Volvo. All these are transient, after 7 years with Ray what I'm sure I do have is love, and I realize that I am content. And I am blown away by that feeling.
People say to me "you're beautiful [an exaggeration] you're intelligent, why would you stay with a married man, you're worth more then that" I've been married, it meant nothing. It did not prevent my husband or me from cheating, when the pastor blessed us it did not heal all the brokenness inside us and allow us to be committed spouses. There are things that I'm still struggling with, like he's going for surgery and I won't be able to be there and talk to the doctors/nurses for him. I know it would be easier for him if I could, I won't be able to see him or take care of him. I worry about things like if he should become seriously ill or die, will it be days before I find out. Will the funeral be over and I won't have gotten to say goodbye?
When women gather and talk about their houses and husbands I cannot join the conversation, and certainly some of the people on the periphery of my life have questioned my sexuality as I am apparently single for a long time. But being a nurse does something to you, at least it did something to me. I am keenly aware the my life could be over at any time. not only that but I could get a life changing diagnosis like breast cancer or multiple sclerosis or 100's of other things and I have taken care of many people who's spouses have left them in a lurch. So I've come to the conclusion that marriage means more to lawyers and court systems then it does to people. I've stopped feeling bad that I don't have a husband, a home of my own and a Volvo. All these are transient, after 7 years with Ray what I'm sure I do have is love, and I realize that I am content. And I am blown away by that feeling.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Conflagration
This fight started years ago. It started in another country, in another language, between different people. Only God knows what it was about. They carried it here to America-in their hearts tiny embers-they nursed them quietly, blowing on them imperceptibly to keep them alight.
It must have been hard for them. I have broken pieces of the stories in my mind, stories told to me by my grandmothers, cherished and turned over in their minds till the rough edges were worn away. Drunken gambling husbands mothers who's jobs kept them away from home for days on end. Cold water flats next to the railroad tracks. There were crates for tables and chairs, in those days you scraped the frost off the inside of the windows in the morning, there wasn't enough heat to sustain the fire in their hearts.
death was much closer then, always just over your shoulder, breathing down your neck, a sibling, a parent. There was no welfare, there was only the bitter cold and the gnawing hunger in your stomach. No time for school, just work, everybody work. She had to leave school in second grade, she spoke two languages but when she wrote you could tell by the way she spelled things that she'd left school as a young child. Not that she was stupid mind you, when she had her own daughter though she resolved to educate her.Her daughter spoke three languages and could write them all as well. She could paint and she went to nursing school. Such sacrifice for this child such pain in bringing her here raising her correctly. Navigating between the ways of the old country and the new.
Two worlds collided in this child, it was hard to apply old world sensibility to a new world child, and the embers in their hearts which they had inherited sparkled and glowed. The result of the friction of one feeling pressed upon to be something she didn't want to be and the growing resentment of the other who felt sure of the correctness of the path she had laid out for her daughter. The fire raged out of control fueled by the alcohol the daughter drank to drown the dreams she had dreamt. The conflagration decimated the the landscape of the family an entire generation of which grew up engulfed by it. It was onto this scorched earth that I was born.
The smoking ground hot and prickly with the vestiges of living things. Raw and bereft of resources with nowhere to hide. After having been through such a time no one has any kindness in there hearts for a child, it's all about putting things back together it's all about surviving. Houses were built and children born, but something had happened once this fire was let loose it could not be contained. It rages to this day, some of the children who grew up surrounded by it don't know another way to live, some see another way but just can't escape. All suffer the intractable sadness that comes from not being able to fight anymore, but not being able to give up either.
I have inherited the fire in my heart, the bitter vitriol, the unabashed hatred, the raging anger, the deep sadness. It is inscribed in my very DNA, and I have a daughter now and I am scared. I am nursing wounds given to me by my mother who's wounds were given to her by hers this goes on ad infinitum. Yet though I see it is so much bigger then anyone of us, and I see the futility of continuing (stupidity is doing the same things over and over expecting different results) I cannot let go of the hatred, I cannot give up this fight which was handed to me by my dead grandmothers. Of what benefit can it be to hold so tightly to this feeling which I hate? How do I let it all go when it is so deeply a part of me? It is something I continue to struggle with, and I don't feel I'm overstating that if I do find a way to let this go then I can surely broker world peace. because this eternal struggle is bigger then all of that.
It must have been hard for them. I have broken pieces of the stories in my mind, stories told to me by my grandmothers, cherished and turned over in their minds till the rough edges were worn away. Drunken gambling husbands mothers who's jobs kept them away from home for days on end. Cold water flats next to the railroad tracks. There were crates for tables and chairs, in those days you scraped the frost off the inside of the windows in the morning, there wasn't enough heat to sustain the fire in their hearts.
death was much closer then, always just over your shoulder, breathing down your neck, a sibling, a parent. There was no welfare, there was only the bitter cold and the gnawing hunger in your stomach. No time for school, just work, everybody work. She had to leave school in second grade, she spoke two languages but when she wrote you could tell by the way she spelled things that she'd left school as a young child. Not that she was stupid mind you, when she had her own daughter though she resolved to educate her.Her daughter spoke three languages and could write them all as well. She could paint and she went to nursing school. Such sacrifice for this child such pain in bringing her here raising her correctly. Navigating between the ways of the old country and the new.
Two worlds collided in this child, it was hard to apply old world sensibility to a new world child, and the embers in their hearts which they had inherited sparkled and glowed. The result of the friction of one feeling pressed upon to be something she didn't want to be and the growing resentment of the other who felt sure of the correctness of the path she had laid out for her daughter. The fire raged out of control fueled by the alcohol the daughter drank to drown the dreams she had dreamt. The conflagration decimated the the landscape of the family an entire generation of which grew up engulfed by it. It was onto this scorched earth that I was born.
The smoking ground hot and prickly with the vestiges of living things. Raw and bereft of resources with nowhere to hide. After having been through such a time no one has any kindness in there hearts for a child, it's all about putting things back together it's all about surviving. Houses were built and children born, but something had happened once this fire was let loose it could not be contained. It rages to this day, some of the children who grew up surrounded by it don't know another way to live, some see another way but just can't escape. All suffer the intractable sadness that comes from not being able to fight anymore, but not being able to give up either.
I have inherited the fire in my heart, the bitter vitriol, the unabashed hatred, the raging anger, the deep sadness. It is inscribed in my very DNA, and I have a daughter now and I am scared. I am nursing wounds given to me by my mother who's wounds were given to her by hers this goes on ad infinitum. Yet though I see it is so much bigger then anyone of us, and I see the futility of continuing (stupidity is doing the same things over and over expecting different results) I cannot let go of the hatred, I cannot give up this fight which was handed to me by my dead grandmothers. Of what benefit can it be to hold so tightly to this feeling which I hate? How do I let it all go when it is so deeply a part of me? It is something I continue to struggle with, and I don't feel I'm overstating that if I do find a way to let this go then I can surely broker world peace. because this eternal struggle is bigger then all of that.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
you can't make this shit up
Ok Ok!!! I acknowledge that I am paranoid, however...do you remember in the 1980's when some freak put cyanide into tylenol capsules and wiped out the better part of an entire family? well I have never forgotten, and really even before that we were raised to inspect fresh fruit in the store before buying it (for evidence of tampering) so I have a suspicious mind and a very cautious demeanor when it comes to food products which brings me to todays CRAZY blog.
Ray was over... he likes cake from box mix (which I didn't have) but I did have all the ingredients and a recipe book...so he was craving some cake...OK, no problem...me and Lea set to making it....then there's the problem of frosting....Lea's birthday was in March so I had a unused frosting in my cabinet...Lea grabs it without my looking at it...opens it and eats a gigantic glob of frosting....but here's the thing...the foil over the top of the frosting in not there....OMG...so now I'm totally freaking out...like what should I do?? If I bring her to the ER they are going to laugh there asses off, besides she wasn't in any distress...
so I yell at her for being such an asshole (expletive deleted while yelling) tell her to brush her teeth and go to bed as it was already 9:30 pm... now my beloved aunt who lives with me is on the phone with my other aunt and they are just hysterically laughing at me...right there in my kitchen which is pissing me off because I think it's a little insensitive... Believe me the humor is not lost on me, objectively I see that I am over reacting, however tampering is a possibility if very remote..and so is food poisoning...and I'm wondering if they would be laughing so hard if it was there kid or their grandchildren...so when I yell at my aunt and tell her this she gets viscious with me starts saying how she has to leave this house...blah blah blah...
My mother (her big sister) never wanted her here...Sibling rivalry runs deep...so I have suffered like a shit sandwich between them for the past 2 plus years...and she has to leave??? OK OK I will ignore it...she's very stressed over her oun daughter moving to Pennsylvania to try to have something closer to a "middle class" lifestyle...and my "frosting" issue is paling in comparison to her stress....
so now where the fuck is Ray during all of this??? I look on the deck...not there...look in the street his car is gone...he didn't say anything to me so now I'm worried about him...what the hell happened...I page him twice...but before he gets my pages he arrives back on my doorstep like a little puppydog carrying a pathmark bag with two containers of frosting...WTF!!!???!!!...did he think that was the problem??? I already made frosting from powdered sugar....I didn't care about that I was stressed that my daughter was going to get sick.... I told him to go home...I put him out and didn't even say goodbye...my aunt had long since stomped off into her room and Lea was sleeping peacefully..so I want to bed..you can't make this shit up
we will be eating the cake for breakfast...
Ray was over... he likes cake from box mix (which I didn't have) but I did have all the ingredients and a recipe book...so he was craving some cake...OK, no problem...me and Lea set to making it....then there's the problem of frosting....Lea's birthday was in March so I had a unused frosting in my cabinet...Lea grabs it without my looking at it...opens it and eats a gigantic glob of frosting....but here's the thing...the foil over the top of the frosting in not there....OMG...so now I'm totally freaking out...like what should I do?? If I bring her to the ER they are going to laugh there asses off, besides she wasn't in any distress...
so I yell at her for being such an asshole (expletive deleted while yelling) tell her to brush her teeth and go to bed as it was already 9:30 pm... now my beloved aunt who lives with me is on the phone with my other aunt and they are just hysterically laughing at me...right there in my kitchen which is pissing me off because I think it's a little insensitive... Believe me the humor is not lost on me, objectively I see that I am over reacting, however tampering is a possibility if very remote..and so is food poisoning...and I'm wondering if they would be laughing so hard if it was there kid or their grandchildren...so when I yell at my aunt and tell her this she gets viscious with me starts saying how she has to leave this house...blah blah blah...
My mother (her big sister) never wanted her here...Sibling rivalry runs deep...so I have suffered like a shit sandwich between them for the past 2 plus years...and she has to leave??? OK OK I will ignore it...she's very stressed over her oun daughter moving to Pennsylvania to try to have something closer to a "middle class" lifestyle...and my "frosting" issue is paling in comparison to her stress....
so now where the fuck is Ray during all of this??? I look on the deck...not there...look in the street his car is gone...he didn't say anything to me so now I'm worried about him...what the hell happened...I page him twice...but before he gets my pages he arrives back on my doorstep like a little puppydog carrying a pathmark bag with two containers of frosting...WTF!!!???!!!...did he think that was the problem??? I already made frosting from powdered sugar....I didn't care about that I was stressed that my daughter was going to get sick.... I told him to go home...I put him out and didn't even say goodbye...my aunt had long since stomped off into her room and Lea was sleeping peacefully..so I want to bed..you can't make this shit up
we will be eating the cake for breakfast...
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Envy
This is not how my life was suppose to be!!!! I was suppose to get married out of high school to an ambitious, loving, considerate man who wanted to spend the rest of his natural life figuring out creative ways to make me happy. That's not how it worked out!!!
Look, I was going to quit smoking 10 years earlier then I did, I was going to join the gym and do yoga and pilates, I was going to get multiple degrees in nursing and biology and I was going to join the peace corps and save babies in third world countries. After I did that I was going to join greenpeace and ride the "rainbow" warrior and risk my life to save endangered species...after that I was going to meet the man of my dreams who would provide me and our precious, perfect offspring with every amenity known to man and then some.
I was suppose to have a Volvo, with onstar!!! ( do they make those???) and have a house in an upscale safe neighborhood, where it would be fine to send the kids to public school, but we'd send them to private school anyway 'cause the education was better. and after my interesting "career" I would contentedly settle down to raise my perfect children. I was suppose to have the money to buy organic food at the health food store, and I was going to rinse off all the organic produce with bottled water and then cook and prepare my own baby food, of course I'd have nursed all those perfect children until their 1st birthdays when they would wean themselves to expensive sippy cups filled with organic juice.
Oh and TV... there wasn't suppose to be any TV in my house, we were going to dust that evil thing off once in a great while when it was raining outside, and only then to watch PBS. We were going to be a fit family who enjoyed bike rides together, and swimming and of course sailing. We were going to be naturally fit and vibrantly healthy. Oh and sweet!!! we were going to be sweet... the kind of sweet you want to kill. So beautiful and content and financially secure that we just radiated happiness. All of our investments were timed perfectly and we were going to retire early allowing us to sit on boards of prestigious organizations, who's galas we would attend regularly.
Our perfect children were going to be fought over regularly by both sets of their loving grandparents ( who lived in remote locations from us :-) and their grandparents were going to take them to exotic countries once a year. The children being perfect would never have been spoiled by these luxuries but rather enriched by them, and were to have grown perfect young adults, who had a broad understanding and great love of the world they lived in, and had a tremendous focus and resolve to positively contribute to the world. They would have taken their large trust funds and attended ivy league colleges where they received perfect grades.
That's not of course what has happened in my life, it is what I desperately wanted though. I don't think about it to much anymore (I'm to busy with my actual life) But it's always there in the background like a shining city just out of reach. I can't let myself dwell on it to deeply, because as the days pass with out realizing these dreams it's like a little piece of me dies.
Look, I was going to quit smoking 10 years earlier then I did, I was going to join the gym and do yoga and pilates, I was going to get multiple degrees in nursing and biology and I was going to join the peace corps and save babies in third world countries. After I did that I was going to join greenpeace and ride the "rainbow" warrior and risk my life to save endangered species...after that I was going to meet the man of my dreams who would provide me and our precious, perfect offspring with every amenity known to man and then some.
I was suppose to have a Volvo, with onstar!!! ( do they make those???) and have a house in an upscale safe neighborhood, where it would be fine to send the kids to public school, but we'd send them to private school anyway 'cause the education was better. and after my interesting "career" I would contentedly settle down to raise my perfect children. I was suppose to have the money to buy organic food at the health food store, and I was going to rinse off all the organic produce with bottled water and then cook and prepare my own baby food, of course I'd have nursed all those perfect children until their 1st birthdays when they would wean themselves to expensive sippy cups filled with organic juice.
Oh and TV... there wasn't suppose to be any TV in my house, we were going to dust that evil thing off once in a great while when it was raining outside, and only then to watch PBS. We were going to be a fit family who enjoyed bike rides together, and swimming and of course sailing. We were going to be naturally fit and vibrantly healthy. Oh and sweet!!! we were going to be sweet... the kind of sweet you want to kill. So beautiful and content and financially secure that we just radiated happiness. All of our investments were timed perfectly and we were going to retire early allowing us to sit on boards of prestigious organizations, who's galas we would attend regularly.
Our perfect children were going to be fought over regularly by both sets of their loving grandparents ( who lived in remote locations from us :-) and their grandparents were going to take them to exotic countries once a year. The children being perfect would never have been spoiled by these luxuries but rather enriched by them, and were to have grown perfect young adults, who had a broad understanding and great love of the world they lived in, and had a tremendous focus and resolve to positively contribute to the world. They would have taken their large trust funds and attended ivy league colleges where they received perfect grades.
That's not of course what has happened in my life, it is what I desperately wanted though. I don't think about it to much anymore (I'm to busy with my actual life) But it's always there in the background like a shining city just out of reach. I can't let myself dwell on it to deeply, because as the days pass with out realizing these dreams it's like a little piece of me dies.
Friday, April 14, 2006
endometrial ablation
It seems like there's no time for anything...no time to clean the house, shop, cook, to study... you get the idea right??? Did you hear the one about the nurse?? (credit to Deb T) a nurse washed up on shore, how did they know she was a nurse??? her bladder was full her stomach was empty and her ass was chewed up...it's soooo true, there is just no time for anything, not even for the most basic of bodily functions, which brings me to the endometrial ablation.
you know I got my period on my 13th birthday, it was late all the neighborhood girls had theirs already and my mother was ready to take me to the endocrinologist. To my horror my mother called everyone we knew to announce that I was "a woman now" Of course I wasn't, I was an embarrassed adolescent trying to figure out how to ride my bicycle with one of my mothers super plus overnight pads under my shorts, serious overkill for the scant brown trickle between my legs.
My period always lasted for 10 days and on a 28 day cycle that barely gave my privates time to breathe, but what can you do, that's life. I tried to embrace my period, really I did. I read a book called "her blood is gold" and "when God was a woman" but I live in a world where I literally don't have time to eat or pee, changing rags hourly during peri menopause was difficult to work into my schedule. I could go into a few gross stories of "flooding disasters" which women all over could relate to, but I just can't get my fingers to type the words.
so after awhile I learned to use tampons, with the super plus pads, to buy myself time between changes, then I tried hormones, then a D&C..none of which came close to solving the problem. because of my age I declined to use birth control pills, I want a stroke cause I'm inconvenienced by my period?? Which brought me to the "ablation". What does ablation mean anyway??? Sounds like to destroy, decimate, obliterate...I will have to look it up to see if I'm right, such an ugly word...
I think of the poor innocent lining of my uterus, fluffing up ready to receive life, month after month faithfully for the past 27 years, though I've only asked it to do so once. The lovely thought of the connection to all my ancestors through the blood in my veins, and my womb. I picture how it was in there like a fertile valley lush with life, and I blew it all away, scalded it, sterilized it, because it inconvenienced me, and I feel guilty. I wonder if the ablation works, and I never bleed again, how disconnected will it feel to be "PMS" and not bleed?
I was terrified of it though too, of the thought of bleeding for another 15 years, terrified at the possibility of having another child, especially that, being a single mother has been an experience I cannot repeat and live through, and I'd always feel like a single mother because I don't think I would ever feel secure enough in a relationship. So I feel like I have made the right decision now incase I meet a man in the future and feel the primal burning desire to "give him a child". I can't.
I had my period for 27 years, 12 times a year, minus the 9 or ten months I was pregnant, that's somewhere around 314 times. At 10 days a period that's 3,140 days bleeding, 75,360 hours bleeding. Countless boxes of super plus tampons, countless rolls or toilet paper to wrap them. 3,140 days of wearing black pants just in case, of trying to discretely check my ass in the car window before going into anyplace. A long time.
I'm not sure how I'll end up feeling about the whole experience in the long run, but right now I'm left with sort of a sad empty feeling, like saying goodbye to an old friend, but it's a friend who I sent away.
you know I got my period on my 13th birthday, it was late all the neighborhood girls had theirs already and my mother was ready to take me to the endocrinologist. To my horror my mother called everyone we knew to announce that I was "a woman now" Of course I wasn't, I was an embarrassed adolescent trying to figure out how to ride my bicycle with one of my mothers super plus overnight pads under my shorts, serious overkill for the scant brown trickle between my legs.
My period always lasted for 10 days and on a 28 day cycle that barely gave my privates time to breathe, but what can you do, that's life. I tried to embrace my period, really I did. I read a book called "her blood is gold" and "when God was a woman" but I live in a world where I literally don't have time to eat or pee, changing rags hourly during peri menopause was difficult to work into my schedule. I could go into a few gross stories of "flooding disasters" which women all over could relate to, but I just can't get my fingers to type the words.
so after awhile I learned to use tampons, with the super plus pads, to buy myself time between changes, then I tried hormones, then a D&C..none of which came close to solving the problem. because of my age I declined to use birth control pills, I want a stroke cause I'm inconvenienced by my period?? Which brought me to the "ablation". What does ablation mean anyway??? Sounds like to destroy, decimate, obliterate...I will have to look it up to see if I'm right, such an ugly word...
I think of the poor innocent lining of my uterus, fluffing up ready to receive life, month after month faithfully for the past 27 years, though I've only asked it to do so once. The lovely thought of the connection to all my ancestors through the blood in my veins, and my womb. I picture how it was in there like a fertile valley lush with life, and I blew it all away, scalded it, sterilized it, because it inconvenienced me, and I feel guilty. I wonder if the ablation works, and I never bleed again, how disconnected will it feel to be "PMS" and not bleed?
I was terrified of it though too, of the thought of bleeding for another 15 years, terrified at the possibility of having another child, especially that, being a single mother has been an experience I cannot repeat and live through, and I'd always feel like a single mother because I don't think I would ever feel secure enough in a relationship. So I feel like I have made the right decision now incase I meet a man in the future and feel the primal burning desire to "give him a child". I can't.
I had my period for 27 years, 12 times a year, minus the 9 or ten months I was pregnant, that's somewhere around 314 times. At 10 days a period that's 3,140 days bleeding, 75,360 hours bleeding. Countless boxes of super plus tampons, countless rolls or toilet paper to wrap them. 3,140 days of wearing black pants just in case, of trying to discretely check my ass in the car window before going into anyplace. A long time.
I'm not sure how I'll end up feeling about the whole experience in the long run, but right now I'm left with sort of a sad empty feeling, like saying goodbye to an old friend, but it's a friend who I sent away.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Why I will (probably) be single forever
I want a man who has the balls to leave everything for me...my favorite movie love scene is in terminator 1, because he comes through time for her knowing he will give his life for her.... a tall order I know... but I can support myself... so it's OK, if no one wants to do that for me...
I want a man who loves me just the way I am...a man who I don't have to stress about what will happen if I get breast Ca, or MS...some one who loves me... the person who just lives in this body...
I want some one who doesn't mind if I'm to tired to shave....some one who can roll with the punches..who can just leave me the hell alone if I'm tired or bitchy...
and Jesus Christ some one who knows how to fuck...
hey!!!! fucking starts in the morning before you go to work... pick up your dirty towel....wash the beard hairs and tooth paste blobs out of the sink...look me in the eye and tell me you love me like you mean it and then kiss me long and slow...
shit I have a life too!!! I go to work just like you...and I work hard and pay bills and I have people depending on me the same as you...don't think I have been reading the latest tips to keep your love life hot in GQ and shaving my legs all day waiting to serve you a gourmet meal when you get home from your hard day...'cause I haven't...
on your way to our bedroom do the dishes and feed the cats...wipe the counters...and if we have any energy left then we will make love...
but if we do... I guarantee it will be worth all the effort...because there is nothing like two genuinely in love people..who appreciate the sacrifices that each of them makes for the other making love...
I am going to be 40 in June... I have declared 2006 the year of being happy to be single....
and truly I can say that I'd rather be alone then be with the wrong man
that ends tonight's rant... ;-D
I want a man who loves me just the way I am...a man who I don't have to stress about what will happen if I get breast Ca, or MS...some one who loves me... the person who just lives in this body...
I want some one who doesn't mind if I'm to tired to shave....some one who can roll with the punches..who can just leave me the hell alone if I'm tired or bitchy...
and Jesus Christ some one who knows how to fuck...
hey!!!! fucking starts in the morning before you go to work... pick up your dirty towel....wash the beard hairs and tooth paste blobs out of the sink...look me in the eye and tell me you love me like you mean it and then kiss me long and slow...
shit I have a life too!!! I go to work just like you...and I work hard and pay bills and I have people depending on me the same as you...don't think I have been reading the latest tips to keep your love life hot in GQ and shaving my legs all day waiting to serve you a gourmet meal when you get home from your hard day...'cause I haven't...
on your way to our bedroom do the dishes and feed the cats...wipe the counters...and if we have any energy left then we will make love...
but if we do... I guarantee it will be worth all the effort...because there is nothing like two genuinely in love people..who appreciate the sacrifices that each of them makes for the other making love...
I am going to be 40 in June... I have declared 2006 the year of being happy to be single....
and truly I can say that I'd rather be alone then be with the wrong man
that ends tonight's rant... ;-D
Friday, February 24, 2006
Rosie's tomato sauce
My ex mother-in-law hated my guts but she made an ass kicking sauce...
tuttorosa crushed tomatoes with basil...
sweet Italian sausage
fresh basil<------HAS TO BE FRESH
garlic cloves<----also has to be fresh
extra virgin olive oil
red wine
boil the sausage to lessen the fat content....greasy sauce is yucky
brown the sausage in the olive oil
add chopped garlic cloves...don't let them burn they taste bitter then....
add the sauce, chopped fresh basil, and wine...simmer
really simple delicious sauce....thanks Rosie...may you rest in peace... O :-)
tuttorosa crushed tomatoes with basil...
sweet Italian sausage
fresh basil<------HAS TO BE FRESH
garlic cloves<----also has to be fresh
extra virgin olive oil
red wine
boil the sausage to lessen the fat content....greasy sauce is yucky
brown the sausage in the olive oil
add chopped garlic cloves...don't let them burn they taste bitter then....
add the sauce, chopped fresh basil, and wine...simmer
really simple delicious sauce....thanks Rosie...may you rest in peace... O :-)
the vagina monologues and 4 little pony tails
I've been wanting to see them since I saw Eve Ensler intervied on Oprah. I never had the time, the money and someone to go with...But I finally went to see a local production of it last night. I wasn't disappointed. It was dare I say??? a little ballsy, for lack of another word... I think instead of the "movie" they show kids in 5th grade they should do a tamer version of the vagina monologues...
so I never have a babysitter, my dearly beloved mother will only watch Lea when I work...which don't get me wrong I am extremely grateful for.... but the fact remains that I haven't seen a non animated film in going on 11 years....My mother God bless her sees that I don't go out and she wishes I would so occasionally she offers to watch Lea... this always results in disaster because she begins to revel in self righteousness as the date of my "recreation" approaches...then she feels put upon I mean really Isn't she so good??? really the least I could so after working full time, going to school, running my own life and house is...whatever...fill in the blank...i.e. send her on an all expense paid trip to Tahiti...buy her house pay her bills ...etc...when she starts to feel like this she gets very nasty... I mean really how could she be nice to such an ungrateful bitch like me....she will then come upstairs and berate me for any number of things after I calmly offer my apology for what ever I have done to offend (usually breathing) she accuses me of using her...sucking the life out of her and not being sorry for anything...she then revokes her offer to babysit...this is usually done as my ride is beeping their horn in front of the house... so then I have to make a choice...go anyway...as my mother will surely watch Lea or politely cancel my plans (which is what I usually do) out of worry of my mother taking her frustration out on my daughter but more to shove the whole situation up my mother's ass... the first time I was mad...the second time disappointed...then I just stopped going out all together.... which brings me to last night...
You already know that I'm f'd up...so I got the tickets to see the vagina monologues and called my best friend and tell her to save the date. Now the problem of babysitting... I could leave Lea alone...My parents do live right down stairs...I do leave Lea alone now while I go food shopping...she has my cell # and I'm close to home.... but this was different... it was at night and not for a necessity....see the headlines now..."child found alone while mother watches vagina monologues" sooooo what's a single girl to do???? BTW the two people who occasionally watch lea for me were unable to for their own reasons....
enter Ray... poor Ray.... he knows my daughter since she's 4...they love the hell out of eachother, they get along very well...so I go out on a limb and ask him to babysit...for once I just want ot go out and enjoy myself and not worry...remember that Ray is married so getting away from home can be challenging...But he works 2 jobs so he had to arrange for a night off which he did...Then he bought us a new TV and and some DVD's for Lea...we set the TV up ate dinner and off I went...Had a nice night I come home and....
Poor Ray is sitting exhausted and helpless in the blue arm chair with 4 tiny pony tails in his hair...My daughter God bless her is running wild in the house laughing at the havoc she's wrought... But everyone was relatively unscathed soooo it went well I guess...
I've stopped trying to live the "perfect" life, I'm 40 I have to live the life I have and that's what I'm trying to do...
XXOOXXOO
so I never have a babysitter, my dearly beloved mother will only watch Lea when I work...which don't get me wrong I am extremely grateful for.... but the fact remains that I haven't seen a non animated film in going on 11 years....My mother God bless her sees that I don't go out and she wishes I would so occasionally she offers to watch Lea... this always results in disaster because she begins to revel in self righteousness as the date of my "recreation" approaches...then she feels put upon I mean really Isn't she so good??? really the least I could so after working full time, going to school, running my own life and house is...whatever...fill in the blank...i.e. send her on an all expense paid trip to Tahiti...buy her house pay her bills ...etc...when she starts to feel like this she gets very nasty... I mean really how could she be nice to such an ungrateful bitch like me....she will then come upstairs and berate me for any number of things after I calmly offer my apology for what ever I have done to offend (usually breathing) she accuses me of using her...sucking the life out of her and not being sorry for anything...she then revokes her offer to babysit...this is usually done as my ride is beeping their horn in front of the house... so then I have to make a choice...go anyway...as my mother will surely watch Lea or politely cancel my plans (which is what I usually do) out of worry of my mother taking her frustration out on my daughter but more to shove the whole situation up my mother's ass... the first time I was mad...the second time disappointed...then I just stopped going out all together.... which brings me to last night...
You already know that I'm f'd up...so I got the tickets to see the vagina monologues and called my best friend and tell her to save the date. Now the problem of babysitting... I could leave Lea alone...My parents do live right down stairs...I do leave Lea alone now while I go food shopping...she has my cell # and I'm close to home.... but this was different... it was at night and not for a necessity....see the headlines now..."child found alone while mother watches vagina monologues" sooooo what's a single girl to do???? BTW the two people who occasionally watch lea for me were unable to for their own reasons....
enter Ray... poor Ray.... he knows my daughter since she's 4...they love the hell out of eachother, they get along very well...so I go out on a limb and ask him to babysit...for once I just want ot go out and enjoy myself and not worry...remember that Ray is married so getting away from home can be challenging...But he works 2 jobs so he had to arrange for a night off which he did...Then he bought us a new TV and and some DVD's for Lea...we set the TV up ate dinner and off I went...Had a nice night I come home and....
Poor Ray is sitting exhausted and helpless in the blue arm chair with 4 tiny pony tails in his hair...My daughter God bless her is running wild in the house laughing at the havoc she's wrought... But everyone was relatively unscathed soooo it went well I guess...
I've stopped trying to live the "perfect" life, I'm 40 I have to live the life I have and that's what I'm trying to do...
XXOOXXOO
Monday, February 13, 2006
Grandma Betty's chicken soup
Chicken carcass or a small whole chicken (remove as much of the skin as possible)
place in large pot and cover with water, boil for a couple of hours, skim the bubbles from the top and discard.
now...if you have the time and the room in the fridge you can leave the newly created broth in the fridge overnight where the fat will rise to the top and harden, you can then remove it rather easily, if not then just skim as much as possible from the top, greasy soup is yucky.... I also put the broth through a sieve before I start but you don't have to I just have a fussy kid...
ok that was the hard/time consuming part...
put the broth on the stove and get it going at a gentle boil, add the following veggies, cut into bite size pieces...
celery
carrots
parsnips
turnips
onions
cut up and add to soup some fresh dill, fresh parsley and add some paprika too (for grandma Betty who came from Hungary) add to soup, cover and reduce heat, cook till veggies are tender.
ladle over wide egg noodles, or if you are feeling adventurous make some matzo balls.
season to taste with pepper and salt... enjoy, and remember grandma...
place in large pot and cover with water, boil for a couple of hours, skim the bubbles from the top and discard.
now...if you have the time and the room in the fridge you can leave the newly created broth in the fridge overnight where the fat will rise to the top and harden, you can then remove it rather easily, if not then just skim as much as possible from the top, greasy soup is yucky.... I also put the broth through a sieve before I start but you don't have to I just have a fussy kid...
ok that was the hard/time consuming part...
put the broth on the stove and get it going at a gentle boil, add the following veggies, cut into bite size pieces...
celery
carrots
parsnips
turnips
onions
cut up and add to soup some fresh dill, fresh parsley and add some paprika too (for grandma Betty who came from Hungary) add to soup, cover and reduce heat, cook till veggies are tender.
ladle over wide egg noodles, or if you are feeling adventurous make some matzo balls.
season to taste with pepper and salt... enjoy, and remember grandma...
Thursday, February 09, 2006
I was thinking today (in between cleaning and running errands) about nursing. It's such a wide field, with so many career options. That's one of the reasons I chose it. There are so many things I could (and I promise that I will whine about) but the thing that strikes me today is how I love my job. Besides it being the only thing crazy enough to temporarily block out the horrors of my personal life!!! I love nursing because I meet the greatest people on earth. I get to work with people who come from all over the entire planet people who on so many levels are different from me, grew up in starkly different cultures speaking different languages, practicing a multitude of different religions, and yet day after day we come together for the greatest purpose...to help our fellow human beings...and it works amazingly well, in such a high stress environment, my co-workers cheerfully offer their assistance to one another and to me and I to them. Amazingly the work gets done when shit starts to befall one member of the team, instead of running away, my co-workers run toward the problem everyone doing their part until it is resolved... Don't get me wrong... Put people together under stress with long hours and short staffing and they will get bitchy, but still amazingly they come back together again and again.
In these sad times when violence and intolerance seem to be spreading over our earth rapidly, a thought creeps up in the back of my mind repeatedly...healthcare as a model for living in the modern world. Here is a field, where on every level from housekeeping to doctors the men and women come from vastly different circumstances and yet every day put aside their differences and work together for the greater good of humanity. It is a very flawed system, but that is acknowledged honestly and evaluated for opportunities to improve our delivery of healthcare. God I can't help but think of the great things we could do as a species if we applied this model to living on the rest of our planet....
In these sad times when violence and intolerance seem to be spreading over our earth rapidly, a thought creeps up in the back of my mind repeatedly...healthcare as a model for living in the modern world. Here is a field, where on every level from housekeeping to doctors the men and women come from vastly different circumstances and yet every day put aside their differences and work together for the greater good of humanity. It is a very flawed system, but that is acknowledged honestly and evaluated for opportunities to improve our delivery of healthcare. God I can't help but think of the great things we could do as a species if we applied this model to living on the rest of our planet....
Monday, January 30, 2006
Really good soup recipe
Was going to whine a little today but I really don't have the time...maybe tomorrow.... here's a recipe for my daughters favorite soup instead...
vegetarian corn chowder
2 boxes of vegetarian vegetable broth.
water
1 head of celery
1 red pepper
1 carrot
5 medium potatoes
1 large yellow onion
2 large garlic cloves
1 bag frozen corn kernels
red pepper flakes
curry powder
peppercorns
olive oil
corn starch
*amounts are just suggestions, you have to see what it looks like and tastes like while cooking it
cut up garlic and onions saute in olive oil until soft, add broth and bring to a gentle boil.
cut up veggies into bite size pieces and add to the broth, put the frozen corn in too, and here's where the water comes in...add enough so that the veggies are covered well you can always add more later if the soup is to thick.
cook for about 1/2 hour or until the veggies are soft. then ladle out about 2 cups of broth into your blender,
and blend on low speed (be careful cause the steam makes this want to blow the top off the blender and splatter the walls!!! (not that it's ever happened to me, LOL) Add about 2 tablespoons of cornstarch and blend before it becomes a gelatinous clump at the bottom of the blender.
add this mixture to the rest of the soup, stir and cook on low temp for about another 10-20 minutes
*add curry and red pepper flakes to taste also if you want, throw in a teaspoon of peppercorns (whole)
enjoy, this is thick creamy and delicious, add some salad and bread and it's dinner.
vegetarian corn chowder
2 boxes of vegetarian vegetable broth.
water
1 head of celery
1 red pepper
1 carrot
5 medium potatoes
1 large yellow onion
2 large garlic cloves
1 bag frozen corn kernels
red pepper flakes
curry powder
peppercorns
olive oil
corn starch
*amounts are just suggestions, you have to see what it looks like and tastes like while cooking it
cut up garlic and onions saute in olive oil until soft, add broth and bring to a gentle boil.
cut up veggies into bite size pieces and add to the broth, put the frozen corn in too, and here's where the water comes in...add enough so that the veggies are covered well you can always add more later if the soup is to thick.
cook for about 1/2 hour or until the veggies are soft. then ladle out about 2 cups of broth into your blender,
and blend on low speed (be careful cause the steam makes this want to blow the top off the blender and splatter the walls!!! (not that it's ever happened to me, LOL) Add about 2 tablespoons of cornstarch and blend before it becomes a gelatinous clump at the bottom of the blender.
add this mixture to the rest of the soup, stir and cook on low temp for about another 10-20 minutes
*add curry and red pepper flakes to taste also if you want, throw in a teaspoon of peppercorns (whole)
enjoy, this is thick creamy and delicious, add some salad and bread and it's dinner.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Virtual loss of innocence
I was talking to a very good friend last night...we were just lamenting the fact that our kids have such a vastly different and in many ways deficient childhood then we did. We were raised in a middle to lower economic class neighborhoods. we were not hungry or lacking in toys or "things" no grinding poverty etc... you get the picture, but God did we have fun. I was up with the sun I got myself a bowl of cold cereal got dressed and went outside barefoot to collect my friends. there were lots of us and we were completely unsupervised by adults from sun up to sun down. We were expected to show up to check in at intervals just to let the parents know we were alive..we would have done that anyway because we had to pee, or we wanted a snack. when I think of the things we did!!! I can't imagine my own daughter doing them. such horrible things as riding my bicycle down hills at intersections, through woods and dirt paths...getting scratched and dirty with out a grownup around to wash my cuts and put antibacterial ointment on them. No cell phones, no adults it was wonderful. When I was little there was a lot of new houses going up and so we would take rusty old coffee cans and scour the construction sites for nails and scraps of wood to build tree house with. We would then go quietly into our respective houses and sneak out a hammer with which to build our forts, again there were many bruises and gashes and we never gave any thought to washing them, as far as I know we never lost a kid to tetanus. Though our days were spent in the woods I never had a tick ( found a few crawling on me now and again though) maybe got stung by a bee once or twice. The woods were used by all age groups of kids from the ridiculously little 5-6 year olds to teenagers...so this could lead to enlightening encounters, not with the actual kids...as the older ones came out when we went in, but with interesting things the would leave lying around like beer bottles and playboy magazines, this was all taken in stride by us. There were alcoholic parents, philandering parents, absent parents, dead parents...divorces, catastrophic illnesses and death. I remember them all and I never felt that I was being sheltered from them, and I didn't feel traumatized by these things they were simply part of life, and we just kept playing. There were "molestations" and lots of them of various types. of course we didn't know as we were growing up but as we became adults and started reminiscing the stories came out one by one. An older neighbor a father or cousin, it might have been once or twice or lasted longer, but still we played. and while I certainly wouldn't want my daughter to experience some of the things I went through I wonder at the price she's had to pay for her own safety. I'm sorry that she lives in a sharply circumscribed world of play dates, and nintendogs, and a computer with parental controls, to protect her from what??? When I was running wild and happy unsupervised in the streets, I lost my innocence a little at a time as I experienced things, good and bad. My daughter to the best of my knowledge has never been molested, she has never gotten into a physical altercation with another child, she attends private school and has dance lessons and girl scouts, she is involved with various clubs after school. she has every comfort and advantage I could think to give her, I have protected her with all my strength. And though I think society would call me a good mother, I wonder if I haven't participated in robbing my daughter of her innocence more violently then mine was ever taken from me, by unintentionally placing terror in her heart of all the things I experienced and lived to tell about.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
a poem...
Listen I named this blog "a spoiled whiney girl" for a reason...
this is a poem I wrote while laying in bed thinking about a summer romance gone bad...
I would like to kill myself
I would like to cut myself
and let the blood run out
let it seep from my veins
slowly watch it as my
consciousness fades...
I'd like to let the blood out to follow my soul-
which has seeped from my body over time-
sometimes stolen, more often given freely-gently as a quiet gift
like a frightened child tugging at the hem of an inattentive parent-
quietly hoping for a reply-a reassurance-
only to walk away empty...
don't go callin' 911 I wrote it years ago and I'm still here....
Lisa
this is a poem I wrote while laying in bed thinking about a summer romance gone bad...
I would like to kill myself
I would like to cut myself
and let the blood run out
let it seep from my veins
slowly watch it as my
consciousness fades...
I'd like to let the blood out to follow my soul-
which has seeped from my body over time-
sometimes stolen, more often given freely-gently as a quiet gift
like a frightened child tugging at the hem of an inattentive parent-
quietly hoping for a reply-a reassurance-
only to walk away empty...
don't go callin' 911 I wrote it years ago and I'm still here....
Lisa
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