Wrap Up!

I normally do this one on the last day of the year but I don't really need to wait this year so you get it early.

Aren't you so excited?

Looking back at January to see what I even set as goals for the year and...oh yeah, I didn't really. With the move coming up I was going to set quarterly goals. Because the year would break up so nicely. The first quarter preparing for the move, the next moving and settling in, then on to the living our lives as normal with everything all done and settled.

Ha!!

Okay, so it didn't work out that smoothly but we dealt with it, right?

I did have some overarching general goals for the year. I wanted to read 60 books, and I hit that and a few more. Though I was going to work on clearing my Kindle of owned books that keep getting bumped for new and I totally did not do that. Looks like something for 2023.

Writing, I set goals for that in only two months and hit both of those. It was a light year. I did publish the whole series I wrote when Katie came out to us but not to the world. I like that series because I think it helped other people understand a little more what was going on. I know it opened the door for people to ask me questions they might have felt uncomfortable asking other people. So I'm taking that as a big yearly win for writing. Inform, entertain, engage. Those are my writing goals. 

Fitness and weight, so this one is funny. Funny fuck you not funny ha ha. I had posted that I really wanted to lose that last 5 pounds and get really consistent with a good blend of weights and cardio. And I totally nailed it. Weight was staying in that range of comfort in my body and for my knees. I was working out 5 to 6 days a week with good balance between everything. Thinking about adding in some more flexibility work and then came November. I got sick the beginning of November and that was met by the death of a friend and then that cascaded into the worst bout of sciatica I've ever had and I've not been 100% since.  My consistency went out the window and my weight bounced back up. Just in time for the end of year round up. Ha..ha..ha... But I'm still going to take it as a win because I was there for the majority of the year and I will be there again as the sciatica is slowly getting better. Just frustrating for it to fall apart like that. 

I had set a decreased Amazon shopping goal then immediately unset it as soon as I realized that we would need so much more stuff than normal due to the move and how many stores just use Amazon as their storefront now. I need to think about that again for this year. Stores don't make it easy to go direct and Amazon is still a piece of shit so...

There weren't other main goals set. Just a general, "Hey! Let's see how this goes!" sort of vibe. So now that I've covered those bare minimum goals that were set, hey, how did the rest of the year go?

It was a little rough. 

I think this year was the first year I really felt old. Like this isn't a blip or a bump in the road, this is a full scale we are on the other side of the hill and sliding fast. It was the first year I told Brent I should probably revise my "We are Living to 100!" plan. Because for the first time I'm not sure I'm going to make it to 100. Or at least not to 100 living my best, independent life. 

It was a year full of physical breakdowns. As soon as I'd get one issue fixed another would crop up. I've had ankle issues, wrist issues, weird bleeding, the aforementioned sciatica issues. I've had hot flashes that would melt your face if you stood too close to me. I've had mornings where I just felt like I'd been hit by a bus, then a tractor trailer, then dropped from an airplane. What the fuck? 

We have a high deductible health insurance plan. For those of you that don't live in the US that means that there isn't a monthly amount taken out of Brent's check to cover our insurance, we just pay the whole bill until it reaches a certain level. Most years this works out for us quite well. We don't pay a lot for health care. This year we met that level and the past few months have been in the "You don't have to pay more, you poor thing" range. We start over on Monday, and I already have two doctor's appointments scheduled  so we might hit our targets again this year. 

The only other year we've met our high deductible was when Katie broke her ankle and had to have surgery. That's the sort of year this year has been. 

BUT...the good news is I've discovered that I know my own body pretty darn well. The chronic issues that I was hoping to fix don't look like they are fixable but I've learned some great compensating moves. (Ankle and toe issues on the same foot, fix the ankle the toe acts up, fix the toe the ankle acts up, make each work in a wonky way and it's manageable). My wrist issues flared and are now back but I honestly think I might end up cancelling that appointment. I did a little self adjustment of a few carpal bones and it seems to be getting better so... 

I also got on estrogen. The mini-pill. Just a bare hint of estrogen really. But it was enough to knock back the daytime hot flashes to zero and the nighttime ones are only a problem if I don't practice my other self care. Watch the sugar, don't drink hard alcohol, exercise. And even then it's like one a night instead of one all night. 

And here's a bonus kicker...

My food issues are fading. Estrogen gives protection from inflammation. We had soup dumplings for Christmas and it was going to be my quarterly "ouch" meal. But no ouch. So we had Godfathers and I had the barest of itch reaction to the nightshades, like so bare that if I wasn't looking for it I wouldn't have really noticed and nothing to the gluten, even though I'd had gluten just a few days before. I'm going to try some more nightshades on Saturday and see how it goes. But this is amazing right? If it sticks I'll try some chicken next. And bourbon. Oh bourbon, I've missed you. 

Now, what this means for me is that I can be less careful of what I eat. I won't have to study every label and menu like it was the meaning to life. BUT...because I know now that there is an underlying issue going on that the estrogen is protecting me from I won't go back to eating the way I used to. I'll still live mostly gluten free. I'll still really limit my nightshade intake. Chicken would be a sometimes food. But it will mean that I will be able to get a donut at the Timbers matches. I will be able to do a dinner cruise in Hawaii without eating only the lettuce from the salad. I will get a level of freedom back that I have missed terribly. 

And I will also suggest to women who are going through menopause that if they are having digestive and joint pain issues they should try an elimination diet because their estrogen was protecting them before. Though Katie put it best that food reactions due to menopause will never be studied because well, menopause and estrogen and the medical field doesn't view those as areas worthy of study. But let's hope that a more women reach the highest levels of care providers we see more studies in women's health and we start to understand estrogen a little more. But until then I will just be grateful for the push Kate gave me to actually get on it. Serious life changer.

So now with the last few days of 2022 fading quickly I'm looking at 2023. More set goals, more things around the pieces that bring me the greatest joy and sense of accomplishment. 

I hope your year has been a good one overall. I hope the painful times were met with love and support. I hope the joyful times were shared and multiplied. I thank you all for reading these blogs. It really does make me happy to share my life with you all. 

And that's a wrap on 2022. 

See you next year!

The Darkest Days...

Have you ever noticed how depressing Christmas music is? I mean a lot of it is just so gloomy. Everyone wishing they were somewhere else, with someone else. It's the most melancholy time of the year. 

And it really is. I mean for a lot of people the whole holiday season is just the pits. There is nothing like a holiday steeped in family traditions and memories to drive home the point that you've lost a loved one. Even though we stopped going home for Christmas when Katie was a toddler it was still hard the first year we lost Jack, and the first year we lost my dad, and the first we lost my mother, and the first year we lost Ann..firsts are the worst. Though that year we lost Ann was probably the absolute worst. It was only the second Christmas after my mother passed, we lost so many friends that year, and we were still in the middle of the worst of the pandemic, before we all decided to pretend it wasn't a thing anymore...

This year my friends and I are still reeling from Kevin's death. It's only been a month basically. I mean how is it possible it's been a month? How is it possible it hasn't been longer? Both of these feel true. It's been impossible. I hadn't realized how tied we all were to each other on a daily basis. I mean I sort of grasped it, but I wasn't ready for the void that would happen each time I thought about him during the day. It's made me more aware of how often I think of you all.

Which it turns out I think about a lot of you often. 

Songs, times of day, weather, clothes, foods...I have memories tied to each of you around those things and so much more. I saw a cool storm moving in the other day and I was driving so I couldn't take a picture and was really bummed because I knew Faye would love it. There was a show about a housing in Las Vegas and I wondered how close the neighborhood was to Sonnya. It's nothing big usually, but there are little things like that with each of you. 

I didn't realize how many of you keep me company while I am cooking. I think about Nadine when I'm making something fancy I've never tried before, I hear her voice in my head, "eh just try". I think about Chris when the cats decide to help me. Trying to get my latkes to turn out the other night I thought about Naomi and her "so many latkes" that she forgot to take pictures of and of Dana and her adding bacon. And I think about Kevin when I come up with a random concoction that ends up really great. Which is often. 

But now everytime I think "oh Kevin would..." I have to catch myself. Because it's still in that early stage where you forget on one level. It's still not settled in as real. 

And that's why Christmas music often lends itself to being depressing. Because so many of our memories around the holiday are tied to our friends and our families. And they are not always with us. Sometimes temporarily, often permanently. 

You all know I lost my uncle a few weeks before Kevin. I love my aunt dearly and I know she's facing that horrible first Christmas without him and my heart hurts for her. I know how bad it was for Mom when Dad passed. I can picture those photos from that first Christmas and just how tired and done Mom looked. 

While thinking about my aunt and uncle an old Christmas memory popped up. My family is large. For awhile when we were all in New Mexico there could be 30+ people at Christmas. We switched to a White Elephant exchange instead of trying to manage presents for everyone. 

So one year Denny got one of the lowest numbers and unwrapped his gift, it was a piece of wood with a line of nuts glued to it. The nuts all had googly eyes and painted faces, there was a banner on the bottom with something like "My Family is a Bunch of Nuts" and he spent the rest of the game trying to convince people to take it from him. "This is a fine handcrafted piece of art. It's got to be worth something." and no takers. "You know this is probably a valuable piece of folk art." Nothing. End of the game comes, everyone is done making their swaps and Denny is still stuck holding that nuts on a branch. He reaches over to grab the nutcracker and breaks open the walnuts. Inside each one was a $20 bill. "I told you it was probably worth more than you were thinking." 

Oh he got everyone! It was his own gift he brought and he told us all it was valuable. Very funny.

The next year a new piece of art like that showed up. And please believe there was a mad scramble for it. I watched the glee in my uncle's eyes and thought, "Uh oh, he's going to get you again." and sure enough at the end of the game the person who ended up with it broke them open and nothing... He got everyone again. 

I wasn't there the next year to see if it made a reappearance or not. But I would guess it did and that people had to decide if it was worth the chance to take it or not. If I had been there I would have watched him for clues on if it was more than it appeared to be. 

I hope this Christmas comes with pleasant memories of those you can't be with. 

I hope this holiday season is filled with moments that become those pleasant memories. 

I hope we find that Peace on Earth we are all looking for. 

Until that happens I guess we'll have to muddle through somehow...

Hearing Voices...

I've talked about it before, how important it is to find your voice when you write. 

I found mine a long time ago. Turns out my writing voice is just my speaking voice. But you know, written. 

It's why I use unconventional punctuation. I talk in fits and starts. A lot of pauses and odd trailing off. My writing style reflects that. 

People who have spent years talking to me off line tell me that they can hear my voice in their head when reading what I've written. So it works. 

Unconventional punctuation, over use of the word so, sentence structure that would have gotten a full bottle of red ink in any of my honors English classes...

This is my voice. 

I have a voice in fiction as well. Though I try to disguise it every little bit. Try and make it sound like a different voice. Sometimes it works and you spend an entire short story waiting for my gotcha moment and it never comes. There's the gotcha!

I have been thinking about this because of a piece that Wil Wheaton wrote, in response to a piece that Neil Gaiman wrote. Basically that as you start writing, fiction especially, you tend to try your hardest to sound like your favorite authors. You might not be doing it on purpose, as in trying to fool people into thinking it's a piece by them, but you do it subconsciously because that is what you associate with good writing. With enjoyable reading. 

Who do you want to sound like?

And I am sure I did it as well. Or even do it now as well. Probably every single author I've read that I thought sounded conversational wove it's way into my brain as "this is enjoyable to me to read" and so I write like that. 

At some point that happened anyway. 

When I was younger I did not write the way I sound. At least not in fiction. I had an idea that it should sound "literary" and I tried hard for that feel. Oh no...

There isn't much worse than a 14 or 15 year old trying to sound impressive.

Funny enough though...most of it was still fairly dark. Though not as funny. That's the difference. I tend to use more humor now than I did then. I think I thought that if I was trying to say something important I had to be serious. Over the years I've found that even when I'm trying to say something important, hell sometimes especially when I'm trying to say something important I will lighten the mood just a bit. 

I am an inappropriate laugher in my day to day life. I am just dragging you all along with me in my writing. 

I like having a strong voice in my writing. I like knowing that if you are reading this it's going to be like having a conversation with me. (I talk too much and expect you to laugh at my jokes)

I also like it because that means when the voices start in my head that don't sound like me I know it means there is a story brewing. And I hope it will be a good one. I'm not sure yet what they are saying, I can just hear them in the background. Fingers and toes crossed for a productive 2023...

And yeah, it'll be dark. I mean, have you met me?

But at least it won't be literary...

Ten Days To Go...

The first thought in her mind was "Ten days to go." The final countdown was on. 

Ten days from now it will be the day AFTER Christmas. Sure, there will be that week of wind down where some people still want to wish you a merry one, but for the most part on Christmas evening, around 6 or 7, society as a collective whole is just over it. For another year. 

Ten more days to go to deal with overly sugared children and overly stressed parents. Ten more days to go to deal with people who are in that midrange relationship space and have no idea if this means they need to get a gift for the person they are dating or if this means the should not at all get a gift because they aren't in that space yet. Ten more days to go of the constant barrage of holiday music. Ten more days to go of crotchy old people being mad at the word holiday.

Ten more days to go.

She remembered when it was all contained in December. December 1 to December 25. Get an advent calendar and eat a piece of chocolate every day as a reward for making it through. Then it started to creep into November. Which, fine, there was a lot to do so maybe spreading it out a bit more was helpful to a lot of people. She couldn't really fault that. 

But then it was October. And this year she saw her first set of decorations up in August. AUGUST. It was still summer vacation for the kids and they were seeing Christmas trees in Wal-Mart? Just not okay at all. 

But she couldn't blame Wal-Mart, as much as she'd like to, if people didn't buy Christmas stuff in August they wouldn't sell it. 

Last year she asked someone who was buying a set of decorations in August why they would do it so early and the response was, "Mind your own fucking business." So...yeah. Merry Christmas to you too!

Ten more days to go. 

She thought about what still needed taken care of, the list was pretty long. Even starting in August that list was going to be long. You had the choice she guessed, stress about it for months or stress about it for a month, either way there was going to be stress. 

Ten more days to go.

She could say 9, since Christmas day people mostly kept to themselves and there was nothing left to do. But sometimes something slipped through the cracks and you'd have to make a last minute dash out and then it was full throttle, you could practically see the extra exclamation marks when people would tell you Merry Christmas. 

Come on, it's not merry. I'm running an errand on Christmas day, you and I both know it's not great. But okay, Merry Fucking Christmas to you too!

Ten more days to go. 

She wasn't sure she hated Christmas, but it was getting that way. 

Which wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't an elf. 

Merry Christmas, ten more days to go...

Inching Closer...

So right now I'm at that phase of goal setting where I am thinking about doing ALL THE THINGS.

The treadmill isn't my friend. 

See, I get on it and my mind starts to wander and instead of coming up with clever Christmas story ideas (though there is one that's been in there as a start for, oh I don't know, a decade now, that keeps bouncing up with ways to make it work) it's been thinking about 2023 goals. 

Today's doozy is around reading. Like I always set a number, sometimes it's high, sometimes it's low. The year I turned 50 I did that fun every year challenge. But usually it's kind of a throw away goal. I wouldn't even bother if Goodreads didn't prompt me and I am not missing a chance at a gold star. But anyway...I was thinking about reading. And this year I think maybe I'll do a reading challenge in a reading challenge. Set my number but then also every month read one biography/autobiography, read one self help book, read the Fantastic Stranglings Book Club pick and then read 2 free choice books. It's a totally doable number of books, except for the fact that nonfiction tends to take longer to read than fiction, but still should be okay.

So, why these choices you might ask yourself. Or you might not, it just depends on how curious you are being today. Or you know you don't need to ask because when have I ever done anything without over explaining it?

I was thinking about self help books the other day (while on the treadmill, not surprisingly) and I realized that they could be grouped in the book store under "Books You Read in Your 20s and Early 30s" Right? I mean, at least in my experience and in watching friends and now their kids. There is an age where we are all searching for something and we make the mistake of thinking someone else has found it. Or maybe not the mistake that they found something but that that something can apply to us. Weight Loss books. Fitness books. Spiritual Books. Look Better. Do Better. Be Better. You but only Better books. I read a ton of them when I was in my 20s. It's probably why I knew who Marianne Williamson was when she ran for president and everyone else was like...Whoah...did she really just say that?

But while I was thinking of how many I've read, and how some of them truly did shape how I see the world I wondered what I would think now. Like I re-read the Four Agreements a few years ago and realized that though I have taken the actual four agreements with me into my life the book itself made me roll my eyes. So what would I think of other self help style books now? What would it look like at 54/55 to read some of these books? Would I be able to get anything out of them or would I find them all to be just so awful I couldn't stand it? And then I saw that there is a book out there called The Fifth Agreement where the author of The Four Agreements revisits the earlier book with his son and they comment on it and add one more agreement. Which is almost exactly what I had been thinking about so... One Self Help Book a month. They don't have to be ones I've read before, and honestly I don't think they will be, but The Fifth Agreement is on the list. 

And because they are experiment books I will blog about each one of them after I read them. Not really a book review, but a life experience review. So you know I love that idea. Anything to add to these numbers without having to think too hard about it. 

The biography/autobiography is just that I enjoy them and I only seem to rarely make room to read them. This is sort of a forcing those books into the rotation. I like hearing about people's stories. Sometimes they don't tell a great story (Sorry, Sincy, you are the GOAT where soccer is concerned but not so introspective) Sometimes they are completely captivating (Becoming was a great story, even if it wasn't about Michelle Obama it would have been a great story). Sometimes they are just flat out hilarious (ANYTHING Mindy Kaling writes you should read). But I enjoy them so I want to make sure I'm making room for them. 

The Fantastic Stranglings one is because I'm horrible about quitting things. You all see how often I go back to Picture of the Day or public gratitude, or you know, Facebook itself. Once I start something if it's even slightly enjoyable it's really hard for me to say, okay, this is now done. I did quit the official book club. I found I was getting the hardcover book from the store but then still getting the digital copy because I read everything on my Kindle now and it seemed so wasteful. So now I'm an "honorary" member of the book club. Which is fine. She started it, and I joined during the pandemic to try and keep her shop from going under before she even got a chance to open the doors, and now that things are opened up again she doesn't depend completely on the book clubs for revenue. She being Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess, for anyone who didn't know what The Fantastic Stranglings Book Club was. Aside from the original reason I joined, the reason I don't want to completely leave is she has recommended books I NEVER would have read on my own. Some of them have not been my cup of tea, but some of them have been so so good. 

And then the two free choice were just to round out my numbers. Three books a month isn't much, even with how much more slowly I read nonfiction. But I don't want to put in too many extras because I do read nonfiction more slowly and I don't want to be scrambling to try and keep up. Those two bonus books a month are also floaters. I'm calling them monthly but if for some reason the nonfiction trips me up on time and I can only fit in one more book, that's okay, I can make it up through the year. 

So I think that's going to be the reading piece this time around. 

And you can help. 

Is there an autobiography or biography that you really enjoyed that you think I should read? 
How about your favorite self help book? Or, here's you chance to subtly "fix" me, one you think I especially should read? 

I'm looking forward to this challenge. I think it's going to be an interesting learning year because of these books. I might even hit 55 with a brand new outlook, you never know!

Okay, we know, but we can pretend together. 

21 Days to Go...

Starting to think about 2023. I know we are in what should be the crunch time of 2022 but...

We don't really do anything for Christmas anymore. We have our small traditions, the meals we eat, the movies we watch...but we don't do gifts. I haven't been doing the big all out decorating since we got the cats, I keep thinking maybe next year, but so far Tig has shown no signs of ever being a calm cat instead of a rowdy kitty. 

We would be doing the Teddy Bear Toss game tonight with the Winterhawks but Brent was one of those who ended up with rebound Covid so a positive test (no matter how faint the line, sweetheart) means that we are home for the weekend. 

We went and looked at Christmas lights, Lightopia, last weekend (when we thought Brent was over Covid since his test was, you know, negative) and it was cute, but really small. Not enough electricity there to jump start a HUGE holiday feeling. 

We've also got a Michigan Bowl Game on New Year's Eve so we won't do anything else (no traditional NYE Hawks game) holiday like there. And since New Year's Day is on a Sunday there won't be the college game feasting there either. 

It's just the way it goes now. Once your kids aren't kids you have a lull. And since Katie isn't planning on having kids of her own we won't be doing it all again with grandkids. Though, who knows, next year if they are all still together maybe we will have her whole crew up and have a major holiday. Or maybe Brent and I start traveling down there and celebrating with them. If they get a big enough place that I don't freak out over the number of people breathing my air...

But anyway...all of this together means I'm already looking toward 2023.

I found a way to transfer my pictures off of Facebook and maintain them in their albums. Or at least I found something that said that it will do that. I haven't tried yet. That will be a massive project, and I won't be able to capture all of the comments and conversations around them, but at least I'll have the photos themselves someplace orderly. So I will be working on getting that done. 

Though, honestly, I'm torn again on my reasoning for doing it. I had been planning to leave Facebook within the first quarter of 2023. I'm just over it. Too many ads, too many just really dumb people spouting off really dumb ideas. And I know I shouldn't think they are dumb just because they think differently than I do but some of them are just so fucking dumb. I mean the reason we think differently is because they, well, from what I can tell, they don't. So I was out. 

But then Kevin died.

I texted a couple of people who had pretty much left Facebook to let them know and then connected with a few more who are on Facebook sporadically. And was reminded again of the great community and social network and all of those things that Facebook was supposed to be, that we actually built. I thought about the kids I've known who now have actual kids of their own. The friends I have all over the world that I would not have if I had never gone on Facebook. The people I miss daily because they aren't online anymore. And do I want to lose even more of that?

So I don't know. I think I will still transfer all of the photos off and then see what I am feeling when I'm done.

I'll keep cultivating my list, dropping people off that don't need to be there anymore. And I am doing that more freely. I used to feel like I should explain to someone why I was dropping them. I would say, hey, this is the reason, this is what you posted that crossed my line, that hurt my heart. But now? I figure if you've been "friends" with me for even a brief amount of time it should come as no surprise that if you post a meme that is racist, sexist, transphobic, homophobic or just plain assholish you are out of here. And to be perfectly honest and self aware, I don't expect most of those people to notice I'm gone, I assume they have tired of my hectoring and lecturing and have hidden me already. 

So 2023 I'll figure out my relationship with social media. 

I also think I'm going to lean back into creativity. Now that my estrogen levels are back up and I'm back to being dark and stormy but with sparkles I'm feeling the urge to write a bit more. Which is kind of a relief. I feel like I've been living in a drought and finally getting some rain. I had sort of convinced myself I didn't miss it at all, but when you've lived with the voices in your head for so long and they all go quiet it gets kind of lonely. 

And there will be some health related things. This year has been brutal. We have a high deductible plan, and this is the first year since Katie broke her ankle in college that we met it and the past two months have been FREE! ALL YOU CAN VISIT! medical trips. To be fair, it was me trying to correct a few long term things and I discovered that really they are just part of me now and if I try to fix one thing the wheels are falling off another. That's just the way it goes. And then with my sciatica being omnipresent for the past month or so I just feel old. So I'm looking at 2023 to find some sort of health balance. I want to live to 100, but not if it's living in pain. 

So that's the framework. Creative, healthy, socialish. Not socialist. That part's already taken care of..
I just need to fill in the particulars. 

How about you all? How is your holiday season going? Are you living the full 2022 experience or ready to move on to 2023 and see what new fresh hell it is going to bring? I mean...what fabulous things are in store!

Standing When You'd Rather Sit...

Last night I went in to my Facebook messages and read all of them that Kevin and I had exchanged over the years. There weren't many on his current account. A swapping of phone numbers. A check in to make sure everything was okay. But then I went to his old account. And the last exchange on it was a tense one. 

I'm not sure what he posted on his wall to trigger it, but apparently I had taken offense and snapped back at the post. I can tell you it was a meme. Because part of our discussion was that he didn't find it offensive and it was just a meme. BUT...he had taken it down because it had bothered me. And then he sent me a long message that was part apology, part defense, part anger, and all love. It was Kevin.

I replied that it was fine that he was angry with me. But that I had made a promise to myself that I wasn't going to let things like that (wish I could remember what "that" was) slide. Even when it was hard. And how much harder it was to say something to family than it was to anyone else. 

Because that's who he was. Family. I used to tell him he was one of mine. That's what I tell my people. You are one of mine. You might not have come from me physically, but you are part of me now. And he would say it back. That we were his. He opened it to me and Brent and Katie and the kitties. We were his. He would always have my back. We were part of our own family. Degenerate or Wanderer or Escapee from the boards. We (and so many others of us) had somehow found each other and we were now tied. 

But that exchange was the last one on that account. If you were to stumble on it you would think it ended the friendship. That we never recovered. 

He lost control of his account shortly thereafter. Somehow logged himself out and couldn't remember the password or the email account that the password was tied to. After a few weeks trying to get back in to his account he gave up and started over. 

Even, obviously, knowing all of that it gave me pause last night as I read that last exchange. The cap to a few years of messages. I was grateful on one hand that I hadn't ever deleted the message. I was grateful I hadn't unfriended the old account since I knew it wasn't active anymore. I had even thought about it once, clearing it out since I knew it was a ghost account, but I didn't. I wanted to keep access to it incase I wanted to find a post or exchange. I'm glad I had it. 

But it also made me feel so sad. Because as some of you know, I've talked about it before, there is another account out there that the last messages we exchanged were tense. But there was no recovery point. There was no reconciliation. There was no coming back together. Death separates both of those people from me. With Kevin I grieve the recent loss, with Rex I lost him long before he died. 

Looking back I had to think for a moment if I would change what I did. If I would, knowing the Kevin would be gone if just a few short years, if I still would have called him out on the meme. And I would have. I promised myself, afterall. 

With Rex the last fight was about how he was killing himself and I wouldn't stick around to watch and I sure as fuck wouldn't send him the money to do it. Would I still have sent that message? Still have had that fight? 

Yeah, I would have. 

I'd done the more supportive how can I help? I'd done the I'll listen but I'm not sending money. It had just progressed. I knew where that road ended and I could either stay silent while he walked it or try and get him to change course. Even though you cannot want someone's sobriety for them more than they want it for themselves. It doesn't work. 

But I still had to say something. 

Standing up to the people who are important to you is much harder than shouting at strangers. Because it matters. What they think of you matters. What you think of them matters. What the cost to the relationship could be matters. If it's someone you either don't know, or don't care that deeply about it's easy. You know cutting and running is always an option.

When Kevin sent me the message about deleting the meme, tucked in there he said he'd understand if after reading all that he sent I wanted to dump him. He knew the potential cost for standing up for what he felt. He just forgot for a moment that he was one of mine, and this was just a disagreement. He didn't have to agree with me. He never had to agree with me. He just needed to understand that if I felt he was wrong I was going to say something. 

It was a hard discussion but we made it through just fine. And as you can tell by me not remembering what it was that he posted, what it was that I said to him on that post to get the reaction I did, and that I wouldn't have been able to tell you that message was even in our DMs, it ended up not mattering at all in the course of our friendship. 

Except of course it did matter. 

It always matters that you stand up for what you believe. Even when you'd rather sit it out.  

Childhood Memories...

Her first memory of meeting Baba was when she was five years old. She was sitting on a rock by a stream in the woods. She doesn't remember anymore where the woods were located. Just that they were near her house. She used to "run away" to live in the woods at least once a week.

Her parents told people she was a wild child. A stubborn one. Incorrigible. 

She was a bad kid. 

That was the message she got over and over again. At five she already knew that people looked at her differently. Made judgements about her before they ever got to know her. She knew she got in trouble at school more often than other kids did, for doing the same things. She didn't realize until she was older that it was because people expected her to be trouble, so they looked for her to be trouble, and they treated her like she was trouble. Because her parents told everyone she was a bad kid.

But really she was just a kid. 

Baba sat quietly with her while she threw pebbles into the stream. 

She knew if you threw them in the right way they would skip across. But she didn't know what that way was so she just threw them harder and harder.

"It's all about how you throw them, not how hard you throw them."

 
She stopped throwing her pebbles. 

"Did you want me to show you?"

She sighed, "Fine. If you want to."

Baba had smiled at her. "It's okay to get help from people when you need it."

She had narrowed her eyes at Baba then, wary of the trap. Nobody ever just helped her. 

"First you want to find the right kind of stone. Not everyone stone is right for the job."

Oh now she got it, it was the start of a lecture. "Some are bad stones."

Baba shook her head, "No, there are no bad stones, just ones that aren't made for skipping. You want one that's kind of flat, smoother, a circle shape. Like this one."

Then Baba showed her how to hold the stone and how to flick her wrist as she threw the stone. Baba's rock skipped all the way across the stream and landed on the other bank. 

"I'll never be able to do that."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But you can try."

They found a few more skipping stones and practiced. She got all the way to three skips.

She was laughing then. "I might be able to beat your skip! Maybe I could skip a stone all the way across and it would keep skipping right into the woods!"

Baba smiled at her, "Maybe." then she nodded to the backpack at her feet, "What is in your bag?"

She got quiet again. Here is where she was going to get in trouble. Baba would drag her back home and her parents would thank her and tell her how bad she was. How much trouble. Then Baba would go home and...she clenched her jaw and willed the tears not to come. 

"Child? I asked you a question. What is in your bag?"

She squared her shoulders and stood up straight scraping her hand against her eyes and sniffing, "I'm running away from home."

"Oh? And why?"

"Because. I'm a bad kid. And it will be easier for everyone if I just leave."

"I see. And where are you going to go?"

Now the tears really did come."I don't know. This is as far as I ever get." she sobbed then, "I'm only five, I don't know where bad kids can go!"

"Can I tell you a little secret?"

She tried pulling herself together a little. "Sh--sh--sure."

"It's December 5th."

"That's not a secret. That's on the calendar."

"But do you know what December 5th is?"

"Monday?"

Baba laughed, "Well, yes, this year it's Monday. But every year it's Krampusnacht. Have you ever heard of Krampus?"

Her eyes got wide then. "My parents told me Krampus takes away the bad kids and either eats them if they look tasty or makes them his slaves if they don't. I stayed up all night last year watching for him!"

Bada nodded, "I know. He tried to come last year but there are so many who need him sometimes he can't. And it makes him feel awful."

"He was going to come take me last year?"

"Oh no dear, your parents have that part wrong. Krampus doesn't come for the children. He comes for the parents who ill treat them. And you, my darling, have parents who have ill treated you." Baba looked at the darkening sky, "As soon as the sun sets he will get to work. And your parents were top of the list this year."

"So if he takes them, what happens to me?"

Baba smiled, "You come live with me. I have a big house, with a lot of children, unfortunately."

"You don't want a lot of children?"

"Oh no, child, I mean it's unfortunate that there is a need for me to have so many. I love all of them, I just wish that there wasn't a need for so many to live with their grandmother. But until that time, Krampus and I work together."

She thought about what Baba was telling her. She knew that she should probably be scared. That something bad was going to happen to her parents. Then she thought of all the times she was punished for running, or yelling, or getting her clothes dirty, or looking at them "that way" or just being nearby when they felt like hitting someone. She realized she was less scared to leave with Baba than she was to go home. 

She doesn't remember exactly where those woods were, but they were close enough to her house that she heard Krampus' chains jingle when he walked up the driveway and she heard her parents cussing him and threatening him. Then Baba had held out her hand and they had walked away before she heard anything else. 

She was five when Krampus came to visit her parents and she came to live with Baba Yaga, it was the best Christmas ever.