Sticks and Stones

I'm not naive enough to think that everyone likes me--I'm confident I rub people the wrong way all the time! I'm loud, I sometimes tend to be a bit crass. I laugh when adults (and children) fall down.  I am always thinking of the very WORST that could happen and then forming contingency plans to deal with it. But for the most part, I think the people who know me, well, KNOW ME. Perhaps like me the way I am. Or perhaps not. Maybe I'm not making any sense. 

What I am trying to say is that you bop along in life, many times on your best behavior. You're kind to people, very specifically considerate and then you figure out, to some of them, it's just not enough. That's happened to me lately, and it's tough because I start to doubt myself. Am I enough? Maybe they are just tolerating me because on some level they have to? Am I so bad that I need constant correction? 

What I really should be considering is that maybe the problem isn't necessarily me, but, while that sounds nice on paper, the feelings of inadequacy still worm their way in. And fester.

Read it and Weep

Yesterday I went to my doctor for a check-up and in the waiting room sat me, Annie, and another man. We were both waiting for the staff to give us the clipboards with all the usual paperwork and when they finally did, the gentleman commented that he couldn't fill it out because he didn't know how to read. I offered to fill out his paperwork for him, and he said sure.

I know illiteracy is pretty common around here, but this was honestly the first time I'd ever really experienced it--and it left me feeling sad.

Hormones

I am a real piece of work. The medication I'm on for the issue I blogged about in November has really amped up my, shall we say, "less optimistic" side. I have good days and not so good days. Today is one of the latter.

Things that routinely irritate me are much more pronounced. Stuff that normally irks me (but I manage to squelch) are now bubbling to the top. My self-monitor is almost non-existent; the things I need to do are seemingly impossible.

For example, right now across the room, my husband is quietly playing music on ITunes. If there was a shoe within my reach, I would ponder the pros and cons of throwing it at him to make the music stop. Out of line? Absolutely. But, it's how I feel. And on some level, it seems reasonable as I have told him I need some quiet to maintain my sanity this evening. But, now Creed is "taking me higher" and I feel like throwing footwear. I think I hate the band Creed.

This is going to be a long six months.

The Real Me

Every Sunday evening, I get together with an eclectic group of four men for a play date. I play my flute and they play their oboe, horn, clarinet and bassoon. This isn't a euphemism, it's a woodwind quintet. 

We might not normally socialize except for that love of music. You've got a 61-year old math teacher, 40-something church music director, 30 or 40-something appliance salesperson/expert, an 80-year old insurance salesman and me, a 32-year old blonde realtor/mother. 

Being a flutist is something that has defined who I am for such a long time; I've been playing for more than 2 decades. After I got married in 1999 (to a non-musician) and moved to Florida and then to Oklahoma, I didn't have that musical outlet anymore. The way I used to make friends no longer existed and making friends in other ways was a real challenge for me those first few years of marriage. 

Up until 2007, I hadn't played with anyone at all. And then one day a stranger with an oboe called and said, "I hear you play the flute."

What's interesting about this quintet is that, even though we've only been playing together for less than 2 years, I sometimes feel this is my most authentic moment of the week--when the girl I envision in my head really comes out to play. This is the person I was before I became a wife, mother, Okie or professional. In those moments, I'm just that girl who was playing the flute back in middle school, high school and college--the same girl who seems to be lost as the years flit by. I miss her.

Aside from family, I have a "post-1999" friend who attends all my performances. By coming, not only does she have stellar musical experience (ha!), but I feel like she's really interested in who I am and who I've been. That may sound a little dramatic but there's hardly anyone I see regularly that has any acquaintance with the "pre-modern me." And the fact anyone might be interested in that girl is refreshing.

The Inevitable

I've had an interesting week. What started with an outpatient procedure has turned into a therapy that may be months in the making. I won't bore you with the details, nor do I really want to tell everyone what's going on (don't worry-not life-threatening).  

What has me really thinking are the side effects which could include many exciting menopause-esque experiences, depression and weight gain. YEA! Happy 32nd Birthday. Here's an extra 10 pounds, bad mood and brittle bones. Oh, and maybe some extra surgery for good measure. I guess the good news is it's not cancer. 

What IT is, however, is a reminder that my life is underway. I'm an adult. This kind of stuff is starting to happen to me and my friends. 

I've got this wonderful group of women with whom I meet once a year. We all went to college together and have managed to stay in contact over the last decade. At our most recent gathering, I looked around the room and saw three women with children-- one who adopted (me), two who did it the old-fashioned way--some in happy marriages, some on the rocks, one who bravely made it thru a divorce with her goodness and optimism still intact. Two dealing with chronic illness, two living outside the borders of America.

I've been really blessed. Happy marriage, easy life, effortless transition (i.e. no contractions) into motherhood and about the sweetest child a gal could want. So, I keep thinking--is this it? Is this the moment when it gets messy? And then I think, if this is the "messy," and I'm worried about it, then I'm just a whiner. Because compared what many of my peers have endured, this is a breeze. My husband loves me, my child is healthy, life is good. I guess what has me anxious is the knowledge of how quickly things can change.

I see it happen all the time-- who doesn't? One minute you're healthy, the next you're sick. In one instant you can think things are going great and you look away for one moment and it's all falling apart. 

Even now at those weekend reunions with my eight dear friends, some are dealing with death, disease or heartbreak--and we're young! Someday, I suppose, some of us will be missing. The thought that "maybe it could be me" is a hard concept to grasp. But, such is the reality of the grown-up life. 

The Election, Part Trois

Greetings from a whole new world! I am, of course, ecstatic at the outcome of the Presidential Race. I cried during Obama's acceptance speech and felt admiration during McCain's concession. What a hard race.

I am so pumped!! Guess where I am going????? Wait for it--

THE INAUGURATION! That's right. Me in D.C. taking in a huge bite of history! I'm sorry for the overuse of !!!!! but how else does one express jumping up and down with punctuation?

What to wear? I'm definitely going to need a beautiful coat (the 5 or 6 I already have simply will not do!) maybe in a gorgeous blue and perhaps a ball gown? I JUST DON'T KNOW! It's too exciting to even think about.

Sorry there's nothing deep here today. Just me and my glee.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Election, Part Deux

November 4th. My anxiety level is at an all-time high. I literally could NOT stay in my house today! 

Is it weird that I'm constantly on the verge of tearing up? Butterflies are going nuts in my stomach and I think it's because I feel like I'm a spectator of history. No matter who wins, this election was like no other. 

My friend, Virginia, really nailed it a few months ago when, talking about Obama, said something to the effect of 'It's like Dr. King's vision and dream coming true. Obama embodies that vision.'

In the primaries, I was a Clinton girl-- still am. When I voted for her, I felt very emotional because I could hear a crack in that glass ceiling. And being the mother of a little girl-- I want her to know that equality isn't just theoretical. That m

aybe when she's an adult, she'll be able to make the same salary as a man doing the same job--that she won't be viewed as inherently weak and unprepared because she is a woman. 

But I am also the mother of a non-white child. Annie is Cherokee. Not like many, who are tribal citizens but look White or Black or Asian or Hispanic because of other facets of their ancestry but CHEROKEE. There's no mistaking that she's an Indian. So, voting for Obama brought another wave of emotion because now I can tell my daughter with conviction that the highest office in the land is open to her as a woman and minority. 

God Bless America.

Guess what? I don't have all the answers.

I think it's interesting how some of the folks with whom I attend church think that admitting to any doubt is somehow an indication of weak belief. I am sure this isn't unique to my community of faith but I imagine that if I were a new believer or someone struggling, hearing such sunny "I never waiver" declarations or "I always do X" could be really off-putting. 

I hope God leaves a little wiggle room for doubters, because I must admit, I often look at what I believe and think, "Am I kidding myself?" I look at the world and I see why people turn their back on belief; I totally get it. Sometimes I'm a "fake it 'til you make it" gal and I hope that in the end God says "Well done" all the same.

I'm trying to have some compassion for these super-optimistic-my-life-and-family-are perfect-we-always-believe-and-have-faith-matter-what people. It must be exhausting to teeter on such a high pedestal.

Comparing Ailments

Well, it's official: I'm old. 

This morning in my Cherokee language class, my teacher, two other classmates and I were discussing the places where we hurt. My prof is in his sixties. We both have the same pain in our heel and I was giving him tips on how to make it feel better. 

Also, my back is killing me after painting my daughter's room. And while my back aches like an arthritic grandma, I'm growing two new zits in my oily t-zone.  So now my shopping list reads: 

1. One pkg Doan's backache pills

2. Clearasil

Existential Crisis

It's not often that I grieve, mostly because, so far, my life has been pretty posh. Nothing bad has really happened in my immediate personal life. If you'd asked me if I really cared  about the suffering of those across the world, I would say "yes," but if I was truly being honest, the answer would be that I was indifferent. 

Sunday at church, the picture above was shown during the lesson. I'd seen it before-- probably years ago. It won a Pulitzer in 1994. But when I saw it on Sunday, it upset me so badly that I couldn't stop crying. The ache at my core was what I would expect if I lost someone close to me. When I saw that girl, I saw my own child and it made me sick, furious and filled with despair.

I don't know what's changed. Has becoming a mother made me more sensitive or is it just age that does it? Whatever it is, I'll tell you this: I had an existential crisis sitting on that pew. 

I wondered where was God for that girl and for the millions like her? Why do I give all this money to church when it could be better spent feeding the hungry? Why are we burning FOOD to fill our gas tanks? I was humiliated at the audacity of my desire for "stuff," when all some are begging for is a cup of clean water. Like I said, I had a moment-- and I don't know yet what to do about it.

My Rage

I really don't understand why it is so hard for people to follow thru with their obligations. This lack of integrity seems to be happening on many fronts in my immediate life and it leaves one (me) feeling helpless and angry. 

These feelings have been manifesting themselves in number of destructive ways-- something that I am going to have to control myself, but sometimes the rage just flies out of me-- more specifically, flies out of my mouth. I don't normally hit people, but my tongue is a double-edged sword. I think I remember reading something in the bible about that-- YIKES!

So, I guess I need to ask God for patience, and a more effective self-monitor.

The Election

I watched the VP debate last night with my stomach tied in knots. 

Let me say up front that I am voting Obama/Biden in this upcoming election, but that I have nothing but respect for the McCain/Palin ticket. That said, I shall continue.

I watched the VP debate last night with my stomach tied in knots because after watching the Sarah Palin/Katie Couric interview debacle, I just really wanted to NOT see that happen to her again. I'm sure many diehard Palin fans would downplay the horrendous nature of that interview but I've got to tell you, politics aside, it was hard to watch. And I don't for one minute believe Katie Couric's interview was "gotcha" or underhanded in any way. Couric did her job and was respectful. In my opinion, Palin simply wasn't prepared for the level of intensity that comes with an interview like that. She had a steep media training hill to climb in such a short time frame. 

So, as I geared up to watch my TIVOed Veep debate, I was actually nervous for her. Because I didn't want to see her humiliated. I know what it's like to walk in a room being an "outsider," a girl, the youngest and the least experienced but still having to meet the expectations that the job you're applying for demands. Even though what I've done professionally pales in comparison, I'm sure the anxiety I felt then was tenfold for her. And thinking about her possible anxiety made me anxious! 

I was pleasantly surprised. I thought both candidates did well. Who knows who "won." I found Biden very substantive, calm, well-spoken;  I thought Palin did a good job of connecting with her audience on an emotional level. Kudos to the folks who have been getting her ready for this debate. It could have gone better in some areas, but all in all, a good day.

If I agreed with Palin's politics, she would get my vote. But even though I do not agree with her on some issues, I was proud that she held her own. You go, girl!

Sidenote: I really miss Hillary. I am still sad about that. But, onward we go.

Extreme Makeover

Fall is here-- another year almost up, another birthday looming upon me. This is my second attempt to start a blog, and this time I hope to remember the email address and password I used to create this, thereby enabling me to continue said blog. I guess some of my natural blondeness (what's left anyway) is still in full force and effect.

2008 has been quite busy so far. In my usual style, I bit off more than I can chew; this time my delicacy of choice is a house that I thought would be a simple remodel. 

Here's a suggestion: If you ever think to yourself, "I think I'd like to buy a fixer-upper," please step away from whatever glue or spray paint you're huffing and know that you are delusional. No offense, but the project is bigger than you, more expensive than you think and altogether frustrating. And while you may believe that you'll one day look back and laugh about how stressed you were because it was all worth it in the end-- you won't and it probably wasn't. Perhaps I am pessimistic today. Check back to see if my attitude corrects itself.