Chicks Fledge Regardless

Being a parent is hard.  Not just the sleepless nights and terrible twos.  Not the painful adolescence or awkward teen years.  Those are horrible, but nothing compares to seeing your child in pain.  I'm not talking about scraped knees or bloody noses.  It's the letting them go, allowing them to make potentially bad choices-- within reason-- to let them learn and grow.

When my daughter moved out at 17, I had concerns.  But I also had hope.  She was mature and responsible.  "We had raised her that way", I say, thumping my chest.  Okay, not quite, but there is a certain sense of accomplishment when your child does well.  And a sense of self-doubt when they falter.  Overall, she is doing well.  Perhaps even thriving.  But her success is not mine, just as her failures aren't.

My son has yet to fledge.  He sits, perched, upon the edge of the nest.  Until now, he's been content to just let his foot dangle over the edge while being securely nestled in the nest.  Now he wants out.  He stands on the rim, longing to spread his wings and soar way above where we can see.  This is scary, to him (not that he would admit it) and to me.

You see, it feels like I have more invested in him.  Now don't go getting all up-in-arms about loving your children "equally" and "treating them all the same".  That's not what this is about.  I do love my children equally.  She is my favorite daughter, and he is my favorite son.  But any parent who tells you they treat their children exactly the same is lying right to you face.  My children are individuals and, as such, must be treated differently.  I'm not talking about favoritism, and now I've hopped down a rather curvy bunny trail.  

Back to my point.  I had one such gut wrenching experience today as my son took another lurch toward the edge of the nest.  He bought a motorcycle.  That's not the horrible part.  That came when it didn't all turn out like he hoped.  It's nothing that can't be resolved (I hope).  It just broke my heart to see him struggling with the thought that he might have made the wrong decision.  And it angered me to think someone may have taken advantage of him.  That person is not someone you want to be, believe me.

I coached him through the steps he needed to take, even though he tried his best to get me to do it for him.  I took the steps beyond what he was able.  Then, when I got a chance to breathe, I began to question myself. Had I let him down or ill-prepared him for this situation?  No, not at all.  But it didn't make it hurt any less. You see, growing up isn't easy.  Not for the child, and not for the parent.  It gives me a whole new appreciation for what my parents must have experienced.

Tomorrow is another day, and he is one step closer.  Soon he, too, will soar. Just like his sister. And I will once again thump my chest with pride.

It's not me, it's you. Or is it?

I live right across the street from a church.  That means when I come home from church each week, I can't park anywhere near my house.  This aggravates me to no end!  It's bad enough that they take up their side of the street, their parking lot, all the side streets AND the school parking lot.  Do they have to park immediately in front of my house?  For all three services.   Today, I came home and there was a car parked in my grass.  Not an easy feat since he had to jump the curb to do that.  You'd think he would have noticed something like that.

So, I just went outside to walk the dog and the guy parked in my grass was getting something out of his car.  I toyed with saying something about being in the grass, but decided better.  I thought he was leaving.  Then I realized he was going back into his church!  We had made eye contact, and he turned and went back into his church.  Really?  No "sorry I'm parked in your grass" or "sorry I've been taking up your parking for 3 hours". My irritation started all over again.

This irritation grew as I walked the dog.  Everywhere I went, I encountered people coming out of this church, all wanting to pet my dog.  I just wanted them all to be gone. To go park at their own house, and leave me alone.  What a great person I am, huh?

As I was coming up the last block, I noticed a small woman getting out of her car.  There was a little girl with her. Then I saw she was also carrying a pretty large, sleeping toddler.  I watched for he to go into the house where her car was parked. Instead, she struggled down the street, carrying her sleeping child and trying to keep hold of the little girl.  She walked the whole way down the block, then half-way down the next street before she finally turned into her house.

I was angry for her.  These church people had parked in front of her house, too, majorly inconveniencing her.  Then I heard the voice.  "And you're angry because you had to walk across the street, all by yourself, carrying nothing but your purse."  I began to feel about an inch tall.

It's interesting how quickly my attitude can change when confronted by someone who could honestly be justified in their anger at the same event.  Now, I don't know what was going on in this woman's head, and that's not the focus of this blog.  It just helped me to look outside of myself for one minute.  It doesn't mean I'm not going to get ticked about the lack of Sunday parking.  But it does mean I will be more aware that I have no clue what is going on with other people.

Redemption as Renewal

Anyone older than a day has experienced some sort of loss in their life.  For some of us, that has been excruciating trauma, perhaps even more than once, often at the hands of those who are supposed to love us and protect us.  As I struggle through these events in my life, I find myself often overwhelmed with emotions, mostly anger and loss.  I begin to question.  Everything and everyone.  And I wonder if anything can ever come from what I've been through.

I've been through therapy, 12-step programs and support groups, each having it's own pros and cons. I've come to see that trauma is like an onion.  It has many layers before you actually get to it's core.  As each layer is peeled back, it exposes a level of suffering.  Sometimes this brings flashbacks and fear, and it always hurts.  It's hard to go through alone, but can be even harder to let someone in.  After all, it was people who did this.

But I have found that as each layer is exposed and dealt with, I find a new strength.  Each "small" step conquered, gives me the courage to allow the next layer to be peeled back.  Yes, I do have a say in this process.  I can choose to stay exactly where I am, to wallow in self pity, mourning my losses, being bitter and resentful.  Or, I can choose to experience the pain, mourn the loss, deal with my side of things and allow healing to take place.  It's never easy and it's usually not fast.  But I look at it like childbirth.  The labor might be long, or it might be short.  Every one's is different.  But one thing is sure, it will end.  And with the end comes joy!

Then I realize that healing is not easy, either.  After spending my whole life looking back, shutting people out, trying to forget, in essence focusing on, idolizing, and worshiping my trauma, I find myself with a free mind.  I can feel lost, not quite knowing what to do.  And wondering how that time lost, the energy misplaced, the emotional roller coaster and the trauma itself can be redeemed.  Can good really come from such evil?  Can peace come from the pain? Can light replace where it was once so dark?

Yes!  I've come to believe hurt is never wasted, pain doesn't have to last forever and good can come from evil.  And you know what?  I have something to offer.  How cool is that?  I know what this feels like, and I can share it with another person who's still in the pain and darkness of their trauma. I can share my experiences, how I have grown and survived, no flourished, in the face of adversity.

I have hope to give.  Hope for a new beginning.  Hope for healing.  The belief that things can be better.  My awfulness has been redeemed!  My life is not lost.  It has been renewed, and that is something worth sharing.

Get out of my bubble

I went to a local baseball game tonight with my husband and father-in-law.  The weather was perfect, but the stadium was relatively empty.  I'm assuming that was because it's a holiday weekend.  We had great seats; just four rows down from the concourse, giving me an awesome vantage point for people watching.

I was amazed by how many people just sit wherever they want, not necessarily where their ticket says their seat is.  I saw one rather large group (4 adults and a few kids) be escorted from the wrong seats three different times.  Three!  Just sit in your own seat.  Quit deciding where you are going to sit, or actually pay for tickets for those seats.

Then there the people who, despite a large sign saying "alcohol free section", tried to sit there with glasses of beer.  What a job for the stadium staff, escorting people who can't read from their seats all night.  Just open your eyes.  And really, if you're at the game as a family, with your toddler children, do you need to be sitting there drinking?

But who stole the spotlight?  The middle-aged couple sitting directly in front of my husband and me. They were both gray-haired and a bit hippie-ish in their dress.  She seemed to think she was on her living room couch as she slouched in her seat, legs out in the aisle and her arm draped across the back of her seat, as she sat in a rather twisted position.

Now the problem with her draping her arm over the seat was that it then rested on my leg.  And she left it there!  Could she not feel my skin?  The killer was that it happened more than once.  I bounced my leg.  I shifted in my seat.  I talked loudly.  All to no avail.  Then my husband noticed.  His look can only be described as a mix of shock and disgust.   It was all so comical.

When we could take it no more, we decided it was time for a funnel cake.  This time, the husband had his arm hanging backwards, right in my husband's seating area.  We wanted to take our trash with us, so my husband tried to remove his cup from his cup holder.  Well, the guy's arm was blocking it.  He actually got stupid worked up when his arm was touched by the cup.  Seriously, dude?  Keep your body in your own allotted space.

So, we moved to the other side of my father-in-law when we returned, into seats that were empty, but still not our seats.  I guess I'm as guilty as the rest.  And I still don't know who won.

Just stop it!

I hate to see my friends and loved ones hurting.  In emotional pain.  Being mistreated by those they know and love.  Maybe I'm naive, but I think love should not involve deliberate pain. I know we all do and say things that hurt our loved ones, mostly unintentionally.  It's the intentional ones that irk me.

I've heard it said "you always hurt the ones you love".  Why is that acceptable?  It sounds like an excuse to me.  It sounds to me like a cop out to not have to expect, demand, more from people.  To believe the lie we tell ourselves that maybe we really aren't worth being treated better.  How sad?  No, not sad.  It's maddening!

Ladies, take heart.  Be brave.  Be strong.  Focus on the good in you.  Realize how great you are.  Make a list of all the positive things you are and have accomplished.  Nothing is too small.  Surround yourself with people who lift you up, but are also honest with you.  Sometimes, a little smack to bring you out of a funk and back to reality is what you need.

Guy, grow a pair!  Stop making yourself feel "like a man" at the expense of the women who love you.  Make the hard choices.  Put your family first.  Put a filter on your mouth.  Just because something pops into your head does not mean it needs to come out of your mouth. Your words carry a heavy weight, building up and tearing down in mere minutes, leaving emotional scars, creating rifts in relationships, devastating lives.

Now before you go off on me, maybe you need to look inside and see what is really causing this to bother you.  Have I hit a nerve?

Put down that phone

Call me old fashioned. Or maybe I'm a technophobe.  Lately, people's use (or misuse) is really bugging me.  Are people really so self-absorbed that they cannot go through a meal without looking at their phone?  Have we lost all sense of proper communication and actually think everything is OK to share through a text rather than a phone call?

Don't get me wrong.  I have a cell phone.  It's neither smart nor state of the art.  It's a phone.  It's for making calls.  Period.  I don't have it with me at all times, and just because it rings does not mean I need to answer it. I don't just give the number out to everyone I meet because, frankly, I don't want just anyone being able to call me.  And I don't always want to be found.

I know several people who treat their phone as an appendage, like it's physically attached to their hand as their fingers are.  If it rings, or beeps, or chirps or makes any noise whatsoever, it must be answered, looked at, fondled and caressed.  It doesn't matter where they are or who is with them.  I'm concerned that we have decided this is acceptable behavior, both as the one answering the phone and the one being treated as second-class.

Am I being harsh?  I don't think so.  I think people deserve my attention when I ask them to lunch, or we're sitting at dinner. If I am constantly glancing at my phone, or worse, texting/surfing non-stop, I am telling that other person they are not worthy of my time and full-attention.  I certainly don't want someone treating me that way.  I'm not a doctor or a police officer.  I am not so important that I must always be reachable, and must always answer my phone before it goes to voicemail.

We as a society have become so self-absorbed that we cannot focus on those around us, the ones who are supposedly so important to us, the ones we love.  We need to get over ourselves!

If you're happy and you know it

Have you ever stopped to think what really makes you happy?  And just what does "happy" mean?  The other day, as I was being scrutinized by a young woman trying to sell me 24k gold youth serum, I had cause to do just that.

She was a young, relatively attractive woman.  She was Egyptian with long, dark hair, brown eyes and youthful skin that looked moist and dew-y.  Though she was shorter than I, she tilted her head back and looked down her nose when she spoke to me, which accentuated her crooked teeth and drew attention to the strange piercing she had inside her top lip.

As she lunged, full-force, into her sales pitch she tried to make me believe that my happiness should be tied to my appearance.  While smearing $298 eye cream onto one side of my face, she told me I was "obviously a smart woman who knew the value of spending money to look good".   She made assumptions about what I spend on my hair and face while buttering me up with "you can't possibly be 45!"  (Does that really work on people?)

Then she moved in for the kill, er, sale.  "When you have wrinkles, and they WILL come, you will be so happy you bought this.  When you look good on the outside, you will be happy, inside and out".  Hmmm.  I looked her straight in the eye, sizing up if she actually believed what she was saying.  Sadly, she did.  I made a circle around my face with my hand, and I told her this (pointing to my face) does not determine my happiness.  It's true.  And it felt so freeing to say it out loud.  Her expression drooped as she realized she lost my sale, that I wasn't buying her script.  All she could do was concede defeat.

Since that encounter, I have been trying to put into words what happiness is to me.  Does it rely on some external factor that is unreliable and fleeting?  Is it merely an emotion, dependent on feelings that can be swayed with a word or glance?  Is it dependent on relationships with other people and their perceptions of me?  I think happiness contains a little bit of all of these but, ultimately, is found deep with in.  To me, it feels a lot like peace.