"Skin cells turnover at a rate of every 30-40 days....
....
The high school biology lecture had been replaying in her mind for weeks. She remembered being fascinated by the idea that her entire skin would be replaced every month. It had captured her imagination. Things she touched today, in a month she would not have touched. Not really. The skin that had pressed against the brick wall outside of her class would not be the skin she had a month later.
Within two months the skin cells she had would have not only not touched the wall but not touched any cells that had touched the wall. There would be no trace of cells left that had touched the wall. The whole concept was amazing to her. How was it possible to have memory of touching the wall when the actual part of her that touched the wall was gone?
When she got older it wasn't as interesting to her. It was one of those fleeting things that can only happen when you are younger and you become completely absorbed by a new thought. Like the classic does everyone see the same colors as you do? We both call this blue but what if my blue is your red? Things that seem more important than they are.
Or maybe they were the important things and we just stopped paying attention to them.
Maybe if we kept that sense of amazement at the world we would be better off.
Maybe the things we think are important now aren't at all.
.....
"Scar tissue is caused when the damage is deeper..."
....
She looked at the calendar. In two days it would be two months. She would be brand new twice over. No part of her skin would have been touched by him. No part of his skin would have touched her. They would be strangers to each other.
Even more than they already were.
.....
"But over time, even scars change and fade. The bright red mark turns into a light silver line. A reminder of what happened, but not as vivid."
.....
She looked at her hands. Opening them. Then closing them. Hands that had never touched or been touched by him.
Brand new.
Friday, October 11, 2019
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
Closing In...
I can't believe I've only written one blog so far this month. Now part of that is because I wrote a short story as well but it was for submission so it will be a late post here once it's rejected. I mean I will give you the link when it's accepted for the journal and posted there. (insert the winking face or the smirk face you can choose) The other is that we traveled last week. And the biggest is that October is here. The month we are finally having Mom's funeral.
So all of that "I'm fine, really" feeling is a little frayed at the edges. I mean, I really am fine, mostly. I'm better than I thought I would be. I'm still feeling like it's because Mom made her choice that I'm as okay with it all as I am. But at the same time after texting with my sister yesterday about next steps I spent all day playing a mindless game on my phone and nothing much else, even though I thought I SHOULD be doing something else. I told Brent last night that I even know why I'm doing it, I just don't want to think about the funeral. But I have to.
Next weekend is the service and Susan is going to give everyone in the family a packet of ashes from Mom and Dad and we can do with them as we choose. The boys and I are going to spread them on the east side of the mountain Sunday morning. It's where Mom said she wanted to be so for once I will do what she wants and take care of at least part of that. And it gives me chance to have a private moment to say goodbye. To her and to Dad. I didn't really do that when Dad died. I think I was waiting to do it all at once. Now it's time.
Susan also wants help sorting everything out. She thinks there are things we might want to take. This is making my skin twitch and I haven't even started yet. You all know that I have weird things around stuff. I don't want too much of it. Right now I have a lot of it and there is a part of me that wants to just throw everything out and live with bare walls and empty shelves. I know this is a reaction to the fact that I grew up with borderline hoarders. There was always too much stuff. My parents grew up without a lot of money and on the recovery side of the Great Depression. You didn't throw ANYTHING away. My father actually could turn all of those spare parts into useful things, so it was hard to argue.
And then coupled with that was my mother and her collections of things. I cannot tell you how many times I heard "This is going to be worth something someday" growing up. Figurines, books, jewelry, you name it, Mom had it. It took me a long time to be okay getting rid of things she gave me that "were going to be worth something someday." It's a tough mindset to break out of. First off, no it's probably not. And secondly, is that worth your own peace of mind today? And for me clear space is worth more.
So anyway, sorting through things in Albuquerque. I know I want one of her smaller owl figurines. Much like my father's ring, that's what I want to remember her by. I'm even considering a tattoo combining the two things. But I don't want anything else. I don't need anything else. Anything that is worth something now they can sell and use the money. It's not worth haggling over who gets what, or who was supposed to get what, or any of that to me. But Susan and Jeff have had to deal with everything else so I can go sort things for a couple of days to help.
So I will.
And I know some of it will bring back memories and some of those will be good and some won't. So I'm sort of bracing for it all already. Nothing like raking the bottom of the pond to stir up old feelings.
I also know that it is probably the last time we will all be together in one place. Mom was the center of our family and now that she's gone the center probably won't hold. I imagine when we see each other again it will be in small groups. We live in Oregon, Ashley and her family are in Florida. John and Ann are living there with her. Jesse is in, umm, Connecticut maybe, Jeff, Susan, David and Brian are still in Albuquerque. We are scattered. And honestly we don't all have much in common except blood. So I have to think this is the last time we will all be together and considering the last time before this was Dad's funeral I'd say that's a solid guess.
So I'm mourning that as well as mourning Mom. I tried to explain it to Brent the other night but he's an only child and absolutely has no reference for it. And he knows I prefer the small groups anyway so the idea of mourning an idea of a lot of people getting together is really outside of his area. But I have good memories of Thanksgivings and Christmases with 20+ people in one house. Playing games and eating and laughing. We haven't done that in decades, but when I was little it was fun. And that won't happen again.
And that's okay as well. Like I said, we don't have a lot in common. The odds of recreating those times would not be good. Getting through the weekend without a fight will be enough of a challenge. I mean there's already been one dust up around the service and the only thing that kept it from getting uglier was distance. I know the last time we were together I was rude to Ashley and had to apologize later so I'm hoping not to repeat that performance with new players. But...the idea of it is sad. The idea that we didn't grow up to be that TV close family is still a little sad to me. But we didn't. And now that Mom is gone we will mostly go our separate ways as well. Which is okay. We grew up to be very different from each other. We can love each other and not want to spend time together. I think that's probably more normal in families than you'd think.
And I also know that it's mostly me. I'm the black sheep in my brood. And I came to terms with that ages ago. It's just now that Mom is gone what that really means is setting in. She was the bridge for all of us to reach each other. "Do it for Mom." So we will get together one last time for Mom. And play nicely (hopefully) and get through it (definitely) and it will be fine.
I'm okay.
Still.
Sort of.
Ten days to go.
So all of that "I'm fine, really" feeling is a little frayed at the edges. I mean, I really am fine, mostly. I'm better than I thought I would be. I'm still feeling like it's because Mom made her choice that I'm as okay with it all as I am. But at the same time after texting with my sister yesterday about next steps I spent all day playing a mindless game on my phone and nothing much else, even though I thought I SHOULD be doing something else. I told Brent last night that I even know why I'm doing it, I just don't want to think about the funeral. But I have to.
Next weekend is the service and Susan is going to give everyone in the family a packet of ashes from Mom and Dad and we can do with them as we choose. The boys and I are going to spread them on the east side of the mountain Sunday morning. It's where Mom said she wanted to be so for once I will do what she wants and take care of at least part of that. And it gives me chance to have a private moment to say goodbye. To her and to Dad. I didn't really do that when Dad died. I think I was waiting to do it all at once. Now it's time.
Susan also wants help sorting everything out. She thinks there are things we might want to take. This is making my skin twitch and I haven't even started yet. You all know that I have weird things around stuff. I don't want too much of it. Right now I have a lot of it and there is a part of me that wants to just throw everything out and live with bare walls and empty shelves. I know this is a reaction to the fact that I grew up with borderline hoarders. There was always too much stuff. My parents grew up without a lot of money and on the recovery side of the Great Depression. You didn't throw ANYTHING away. My father actually could turn all of those spare parts into useful things, so it was hard to argue.
And then coupled with that was my mother and her collections of things. I cannot tell you how many times I heard "This is going to be worth something someday" growing up. Figurines, books, jewelry, you name it, Mom had it. It took me a long time to be okay getting rid of things she gave me that "were going to be worth something someday." It's a tough mindset to break out of. First off, no it's probably not. And secondly, is that worth your own peace of mind today? And for me clear space is worth more.
So anyway, sorting through things in Albuquerque. I know I want one of her smaller owl figurines. Much like my father's ring, that's what I want to remember her by. I'm even considering a tattoo combining the two things. But I don't want anything else. I don't need anything else. Anything that is worth something now they can sell and use the money. It's not worth haggling over who gets what, or who was supposed to get what, or any of that to me. But Susan and Jeff have had to deal with everything else so I can go sort things for a couple of days to help.
So I will.
And I know some of it will bring back memories and some of those will be good and some won't. So I'm sort of bracing for it all already. Nothing like raking the bottom of the pond to stir up old feelings.
I also know that it is probably the last time we will all be together in one place. Mom was the center of our family and now that she's gone the center probably won't hold. I imagine when we see each other again it will be in small groups. We live in Oregon, Ashley and her family are in Florida. John and Ann are living there with her. Jesse is in, umm, Connecticut maybe, Jeff, Susan, David and Brian are still in Albuquerque. We are scattered. And honestly we don't all have much in common except blood. So I have to think this is the last time we will all be together and considering the last time before this was Dad's funeral I'd say that's a solid guess.
So I'm mourning that as well as mourning Mom. I tried to explain it to Brent the other night but he's an only child and absolutely has no reference for it. And he knows I prefer the small groups anyway so the idea of mourning an idea of a lot of people getting together is really outside of his area. But I have good memories of Thanksgivings and Christmases with 20+ people in one house. Playing games and eating and laughing. We haven't done that in decades, but when I was little it was fun. And that won't happen again.
And that's okay as well. Like I said, we don't have a lot in common. The odds of recreating those times would not be good. Getting through the weekend without a fight will be enough of a challenge. I mean there's already been one dust up around the service and the only thing that kept it from getting uglier was distance. I know the last time we were together I was rude to Ashley and had to apologize later so I'm hoping not to repeat that performance with new players. But...the idea of it is sad. The idea that we didn't grow up to be that TV close family is still a little sad to me. But we didn't. And now that Mom is gone we will mostly go our separate ways as well. Which is okay. We grew up to be very different from each other. We can love each other and not want to spend time together. I think that's probably more normal in families than you'd think.
And I also know that it's mostly me. I'm the black sheep in my brood. And I came to terms with that ages ago. It's just now that Mom is gone what that really means is setting in. She was the bridge for all of us to reach each other. "Do it for Mom." So we will get together one last time for Mom. And play nicely (hopefully) and get through it (definitely) and it will be fine.
I'm okay.
Still.
Sort of.
Ten days to go.
Tuesday, October 1, 2019
Grrr....
Such a bad mood.
That's me.
I'm in SUCH a bad mood.
I've had a low grade cold for almost a week. It's like the slow roll illness. Started out with a little congestion and just really tired. I told Brent it was like a "rather not" of a cold. I wasn't unable to do things, I'd just rather not. Then we added a little more congestion. Then a little bit of chest heaviness. Then a headache. Still nothing major, but just an overall blah.
My period came. AGAIN. This make four months in a row and right back off the YAY! MENOPAUSE IS ALMOST DONE to ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS?? And the last couple times it's come it's been pretty much symptom free. Not this time. I've got the bloating and cramping and breast tenderness of a woman in my peak fertile years...yay? And, oh yeah, the mood. I'm assuming it's adding to the mood. Maybe not. Who the fuck knows at this point?
And I don't think it's making me crankier than normal but the political scene coupled with my crankiness is making it more challenging not to yell at people online.
Seriously...
Greta Thunberg is a 16 year old who is motivated to try and make a change in her and OUR world. This is something we should be applauding. Instead I see adults who have done NOTHING with their own lives belittling her. What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Does she make you feel that insecure? Try being inspired instead. I mean, get a group of your peers together to spark a movement and speak to the UN on how all of this sciency stuff makes you feel bad about your oversized pick-up which is supposed to make you feel nothing but compensated over your undersized dick.
Our Executive branch...god where do we start? Ukraine? Barr trying to get other countries to investigate OUR OWN AGENCIES? Or the fact that Republicans are busy explaining why this is all cool, cool, cool. I mean...honestly.
And I get it. Saying, "hey, you know what, maybe Trump was a mentally unstable manchild who has no limit to his narcissism all along" is a tough thing to do. It means someone else was right. And that's a tough pill for a lot of people to swallow. But try it. It's really freeing.
Not just admitting that Trump is unfit, but the whole owning up to mistakes, or errors, or just general gaps in knowledge. It's great. Especially the admitting you don't know everything.
You learn a lot from people if you say to them, "I don't know this thing that you know, will you tell me about it?" They don't point and laugh, "HA! HA! I'm smart and you aren't!" They get all proud and excited to share what they know. People love sharing things they know about. It's true. And when people know that you are good at saying, "I don't know" when you do say, "I know this" they know that you know, you know?
And trust me, I know a lot of people out there that think I never admit to not knowing things. That I'm really bad at it. But it's because I know a lot of things. (insert a wink here) Seriously, I do know an odd collection of things. But there are a lot of things I don't know. And there are a lot of areas about things I do know about that I don't know as well. Just last night Brent asked me about the significance of the Star of David, I'm his go to for religion questions, and I had to tell him, I really didn't know. I knew it was a Jewish symbol, but not what the significance was, or how it came into use. Like you know what the cross stands for in Christianity, but where did the star come from? (Google session today)
But it didn't make Brent think, "Oh my god! I'm married to an idiot!" Or if it did, he didn't say it outloud because he's not stupid and, as I mentioned, I've been in a really bad mood.
So yeah, I'm in a really bad mood.
I'm waiting to feel better.
I'm waiting for the fog to lift.
I'm waiting for people to finally understand that Trump is a bad guy and nothing is worth voting for him again in 2020. (HA! Like his base gives a shit about him being a bad guy)
I'm waiting...
Because at this point I'm tired of myself.
I'm tired of being sick.
I'm tired of being cranky.
I'm tired of being sad. (though I know that one is going to come and go for a long time)
I'm tired of not being done and in menopause.
I'm tired of missing my motivation.
I'm tired of...
Ummm...
Listing out things that I want to just get over already.
Okay. That's over with.
Tomorrow will be better.
I mean it!
That's me.
I'm in SUCH a bad mood.
I've had a low grade cold for almost a week. It's like the slow roll illness. Started out with a little congestion and just really tired. I told Brent it was like a "rather not" of a cold. I wasn't unable to do things, I'd just rather not. Then we added a little more congestion. Then a little bit of chest heaviness. Then a headache. Still nothing major, but just an overall blah.
My period came. AGAIN. This make four months in a row and right back off the YAY! MENOPAUSE IS ALMOST DONE to ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS?? And the last couple times it's come it's been pretty much symptom free. Not this time. I've got the bloating and cramping and breast tenderness of a woman in my peak fertile years...yay? And, oh yeah, the mood. I'm assuming it's adding to the mood. Maybe not. Who the fuck knows at this point?
And I don't think it's making me crankier than normal but the political scene coupled with my crankiness is making it more challenging not to yell at people online.
Seriously...
Greta Thunberg is a 16 year old who is motivated to try and make a change in her and OUR world. This is something we should be applauding. Instead I see adults who have done NOTHING with their own lives belittling her. What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Does she make you feel that insecure? Try being inspired instead. I mean, get a group of your peers together to spark a movement and speak to the UN on how all of this sciency stuff makes you feel bad about your oversized pick-up which is supposed to make you feel nothing but compensated over your undersized dick.
Our Executive branch...god where do we start? Ukraine? Barr trying to get other countries to investigate OUR OWN AGENCIES? Or the fact that Republicans are busy explaining why this is all cool, cool, cool. I mean...honestly.
And I get it. Saying, "hey, you know what, maybe Trump was a mentally unstable manchild who has no limit to his narcissism all along" is a tough thing to do. It means someone else was right. And that's a tough pill for a lot of people to swallow. But try it. It's really freeing.
Not just admitting that Trump is unfit, but the whole owning up to mistakes, or errors, or just general gaps in knowledge. It's great. Especially the admitting you don't know everything.
You learn a lot from people if you say to them, "I don't know this thing that you know, will you tell me about it?" They don't point and laugh, "HA! HA! I'm smart and you aren't!" They get all proud and excited to share what they know. People love sharing things they know about. It's true. And when people know that you are good at saying, "I don't know" when you do say, "I know this" they know that you know, you know?
And trust me, I know a lot of people out there that think I never admit to not knowing things. That I'm really bad at it. But it's because I know a lot of things. (insert a wink here) Seriously, I do know an odd collection of things. But there are a lot of things I don't know. And there are a lot of areas about things I do know about that I don't know as well. Just last night Brent asked me about the significance of the Star of David, I'm his go to for religion questions, and I had to tell him, I really didn't know. I knew it was a Jewish symbol, but not what the significance was, or how it came into use. Like you know what the cross stands for in Christianity, but where did the star come from? (Google session today)
But it didn't make Brent think, "Oh my god! I'm married to an idiot!" Or if it did, he didn't say it outloud because he's not stupid and, as I mentioned, I've been in a really bad mood.
So yeah, I'm in a really bad mood.
I'm waiting to feel better.
I'm waiting for the fog to lift.
I'm waiting for people to finally understand that Trump is a bad guy and nothing is worth voting for him again in 2020. (HA! Like his base gives a shit about him being a bad guy)
I'm waiting...
Because at this point I'm tired of myself.
I'm tired of being sick.
I'm tired of being cranky.
I'm tired of being sad. (though I know that one is going to come and go for a long time)
I'm tired of not being done and in menopause.
I'm tired of missing my motivation.
I'm tired of...
Ummm...
Listing out things that I want to just get over already.
Okay. That's over with.
Tomorrow will be better.
I mean it!
Monday, September 30, 2019
September Recap!
Here we go...somebody wake up Billie Joe because September is ending...
It took me most of the day to get around to writing this one up. It's hard to write about where I am with my goals when I KNOW where I am and I know that it's not looking good for October either.
There is a part of me that feels like I have the perfect excuse to just stop. I mean, I've already decided that next year is a no goal year, so why not just get it going now. I mean, I have a REALLY good excuse to call it quits early. Nobody would blame me right?
Yeah...no...that's not how I do. So instead I will keep looking at those goals and thinking they might very well slip away, but at least I will be watching them go and finishing out the year doing what I set out to do. Or not doing it, but at least still giving it a shot. Or not. I mean...who knows where 2019 is going to end up...
ANYWAY...
Fitness/Weight! This one was shot all to hell before anyway so it's really kind of a placeholder. I mean, I said I wanted to lose 10 pounds and I discovered that with watching what I was eating and making sure I hit the gym super consistently 5-6 days a week my weight had climbed about a pound. So between August and then carryover into September where we even took a little time off from the gym and slept in (insomnia and such) my weight bumped up a little bit more and now in that 10 pounds to lose I'm at 12. Woo! GO me! I will get back to being fierce when I get back to it. For now I just can't be bothered. So instead of around 25 gym visits last month I had 12. Instead of no sugar during the week I had mostly no sugar during the week. It was also the quarterly measurements yesterday and I can report that the extra weight is being distributed exactly where all of the information about menopause and weight gain said it would go, so that's cool...
Reading! Remember last month when I was 4 ahead for the year? Well here's the really interesting thing with Kindle, if you don't pay attention to the book information you have no idea how long a book is. They all weigh the same in cyberspace... Picked up a REALLY long book and now I'm one ahead for the year. Oops! At least I had the cushion right? Read the next Discworld and am actually on to the next next one of that so that's great. And the main Discworld one for September was a Witches story and those are my favorite so it was a joy.
Writing! Didn't hit the monthly goal (this will be 13 instead of 14) but again, I have a cushion there so I'm still ahead. Wrote a quick fiction piece and a piece of piece so I'm on track there as well. Found my submission for the last quarter just need to write something to submit. And also got the rejections from my last two submissions. One of them was for the rhyming poem that I knew wasn't good when I submitted, but wanted to submit that time period so did. The other I was actually kind of put out about. It was a flash contest and I put in two pieces, both of which I thought were really solid. They were older pieces of mine and just needed a little paring down to fit the word count. I would have been okay with them not being selected until I read the winners. Just not my cup of tea. I mean, it was dirt in a cracked cup so I'm not sure whose cup of tea it was but...
MasterClass! Did Paul Krugman's class on economics this time. It was pretty interesting. Also realized that I signed up last year in December so even though my thought was one a month for 2019 they are still going to end my subscription in early December! Whoops! So what I did was pick the last three classes that I want to take and I will just work my way through them. I started October's class last week, for example. Hopefully I will finish the last one around the first day of December or so, and that class will be my December class. Even if it was mostly done in November. Twelve classes is basically the same as one a month. Same. Same.
Museum/Attraction! This is one where I am giving myself a bit of a break. The Detroit Institute of the Arts is doing a program where they have some pieces in the Detroit Airport. When we flew back from Michigan I wandered around the terminal and looked at those pieces. I thought to myself, this counts as my museum, then sort of talked myself out of it, but then back into it when I came down with a cold and decided against going to see the Darcelle exhibit last weekend. I'll save that for October and the DIA in DIA counts! I did make the effort to walk all over to see them...I'm sticking with that as being good enough.
Long Term! I went with Brent's suggestion and didn't sort the kitchen gadgets, but I did pick out a new kitchen table. I won't order it until October because the salesperson was very helpful in letting me know it was going to go on a better sale but I'm counting that as pretty much done. Long term list item checked off!
Next month's extra goals are to:
Write the piece for submission
Order the Kitchen Table
See the Darcelle Exhibit
Get Through it.
Seriously...that's the last goal I wrote down in my calendar as I planned for October, get through it. We have a Michigan game this weekend for Christopher's birthday and we are meeting up with the cousins for that as well so that should be fun. Then a week off. Then New Mexico for the funeral. It's going to be there on my calendar glowing like a warning light.
October Goals:
Get through it.
Then November is smooth sailing...
Or something.
It took me most of the day to get around to writing this one up. It's hard to write about where I am with my goals when I KNOW where I am and I know that it's not looking good for October either.
There is a part of me that feels like I have the perfect excuse to just stop. I mean, I've already decided that next year is a no goal year, so why not just get it going now. I mean, I have a REALLY good excuse to call it quits early. Nobody would blame me right?
Yeah...no...that's not how I do. So instead I will keep looking at those goals and thinking they might very well slip away, but at least I will be watching them go and finishing out the year doing what I set out to do. Or not doing it, but at least still giving it a shot. Or not. I mean...who knows where 2019 is going to end up...
ANYWAY...
Fitness/Weight! This one was shot all to hell before anyway so it's really kind of a placeholder. I mean, I said I wanted to lose 10 pounds and I discovered that with watching what I was eating and making sure I hit the gym super consistently 5-6 days a week my weight had climbed about a pound. So between August and then carryover into September where we even took a little time off from the gym and slept in (insomnia and such) my weight bumped up a little bit more and now in that 10 pounds to lose I'm at 12. Woo! GO me! I will get back to being fierce when I get back to it. For now I just can't be bothered. So instead of around 25 gym visits last month I had 12. Instead of no sugar during the week I had mostly no sugar during the week. It was also the quarterly measurements yesterday and I can report that the extra weight is being distributed exactly where all of the information about menopause and weight gain said it would go, so that's cool...
Reading! Remember last month when I was 4 ahead for the year? Well here's the really interesting thing with Kindle, if you don't pay attention to the book information you have no idea how long a book is. They all weigh the same in cyberspace... Picked up a REALLY long book and now I'm one ahead for the year. Oops! At least I had the cushion right? Read the next Discworld and am actually on to the next next one of that so that's great. And the main Discworld one for September was a Witches story and those are my favorite so it was a joy.
Writing! Didn't hit the monthly goal (this will be 13 instead of 14) but again, I have a cushion there so I'm still ahead. Wrote a quick fiction piece and a piece of piece so I'm on track there as well. Found my submission for the last quarter just need to write something to submit. And also got the rejections from my last two submissions. One of them was for the rhyming poem that I knew wasn't good when I submitted, but wanted to submit that time period so did. The other I was actually kind of put out about. It was a flash contest and I put in two pieces, both of which I thought were really solid. They were older pieces of mine and just needed a little paring down to fit the word count. I would have been okay with them not being selected until I read the winners. Just not my cup of tea. I mean, it was dirt in a cracked cup so I'm not sure whose cup of tea it was but...
MasterClass! Did Paul Krugman's class on economics this time. It was pretty interesting. Also realized that I signed up last year in December so even though my thought was one a month for 2019 they are still going to end my subscription in early December! Whoops! So what I did was pick the last three classes that I want to take and I will just work my way through them. I started October's class last week, for example. Hopefully I will finish the last one around the first day of December or so, and that class will be my December class. Even if it was mostly done in November. Twelve classes is basically the same as one a month. Same. Same.
Museum/Attraction! This is one where I am giving myself a bit of a break. The Detroit Institute of the Arts is doing a program where they have some pieces in the Detroit Airport. When we flew back from Michigan I wandered around the terminal and looked at those pieces. I thought to myself, this counts as my museum, then sort of talked myself out of it, but then back into it when I came down with a cold and decided against going to see the Darcelle exhibit last weekend. I'll save that for October and the DIA in DIA counts! I did make the effort to walk all over to see them...I'm sticking with that as being good enough.
Long Term! I went with Brent's suggestion and didn't sort the kitchen gadgets, but I did pick out a new kitchen table. I won't order it until October because the salesperson was very helpful in letting me know it was going to go on a better sale but I'm counting that as pretty much done. Long term list item checked off!
Next month's extra goals are to:
Write the piece for submission
Order the Kitchen Table
See the Darcelle Exhibit
Get Through it.
Seriously...that's the last goal I wrote down in my calendar as I planned for October, get through it. We have a Michigan game this weekend for Christopher's birthday and we are meeting up with the cousins for that as well so that should be fun. Then a week off. Then New Mexico for the funeral. It's going to be there on my calendar glowing like a warning light.
October Goals:
Get through it.
Then November is smooth sailing...
Or something.
Saturday, September 28, 2019
A Little Bit Morbid...
Getting in to bed last night...
"Alexa what is 4 divided by 7?"
"Four divided by 7 is .5714."
....
Brent: "Well that was random. Do I want to know?"
Me: "Probably not."
.....
When I was born my parents took out a life insurance policy on me. I hadn't thought about it in years. As my brain is working through all of the THINGS in there right now this little tidbit rose back to the the top.
I can't remember how old I was when I realized I had a life insurance policy on me but I do know when I realized that most kids didn't. It came up with a friend in high school. We were talking about a man who had just been arrested for the murder of his wife. One of the stupid things he did was take out a life insurance policy on her like 3 months before he killed her. Like something out of a poorly written TV movie. We were trying to decide how far in advance you could buy a new policy before you killed someone and not make it suspicious.
Their belief was never. That there was no point where a life insurance policy wasn't suspicious. And I was shocked, their parents didn't have one out on them? And then it was their turn to be shocked. Mine did? Why? I was very matter of fact and said that it wasn't for much really, basically enough to cover funeral expenses, maybe a little more by now.
They thought it was really morbid.
And I guess in a way it was. But it was mostly just practical.
When I was born, looking at their history with kids my parents had a 50/50 shot of me living past childhood. Fifty fifty. My birth (and making it to 18) tipped the percentage of kids living to adulthood to roughly 57%. Unless you count the miscarriage Mom had between Jeff and Susan and then we are back down to 50%. But even my devout completely anti-abortion mother did not view her miscarriage in the same way as she did her two daughters that died short after birth and especially not how she viewed her son that died at 6.
At one point in time they were going to turn the policy over to me when I turned 18. My guess is that they either cashed it out or had stopped making payments on it or had lost it before that. They weren't in a place to give money away right around then so cashing it out or stopping payments on it would both make sense. I don't really know which one. But the good news (for me!) is that they didn't need to use to it bury another child.
I pushed those survival rates to more than half. Go me!
Odd little things like this form my view of the world. A world where you have insurance policies on infants. Where when you are vacationing in Iowa you stop and have a picnic lunch in the cemetery with your brother and sisters. Where the only pictures you have of your two oldest sisters are from their funeral, and it's just the coffins. Where when it's time to have your own children you have to explain to your husband that the frilly white bassinet looks like how they set up a child's coffin for the funeral and you'd really rather not. Where discussions about your dead siblings make you feel like they are a part of your life even though they died long before you were born.
It's kind of morbid. But it's also not. It's very practical. I'm not afraid of dying. It is a thing that happens to all of us. Young, old, inbetween; accidents, health, unexplained unknowable reasons. It's going to happen. And it was part of growing up for me. The knowledge that it was coming. And that it was okay.
Because that was the overall lesson about death when I was growing up. That it was all okay. Now, yes, that was because it was part of their religious belief. Heaven was on the other side. That was something to look forward to. My mother talked about being reunited with the girls and Mark and then after Dad died with Dad as well. It was a reunion she was looking forward to. It's something my siblings talk about now. That they are all reunited now and that someday they too will join the rest of the family.
Not me. I don't think that way. But when I left the religion I didn't leave my general okayness around death. It was too far ingrained in who I am. It's coming for all of us. So worrying about dying doesn't make sense to me. I just don't view it the same way. I don't see a glorious reunion with family and friends who have gone before me. Honestly I'm not sure what happens, but I don't have any memory of what came before I was born and that doesn't scare me so why should what comes next?
But still, as I was thinking yesterday that number kept popping in my head. Four out of seven births lived to adulthood. Four out of eight pregnancies. Even growing up with it, even knowing it, sometimes it hits me in a fresh way.
No wonder my fiction is 50% ghosts.
It's how I was raised.
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not."
"Alexa what is 4 divided by 7?"
"Four divided by 7 is .5714."
....
Brent: "Well that was random. Do I want to know?"
Me: "Probably not."
.....
When I was born my parents took out a life insurance policy on me. I hadn't thought about it in years. As my brain is working through all of the THINGS in there right now this little tidbit rose back to the the top.
I can't remember how old I was when I realized I had a life insurance policy on me but I do know when I realized that most kids didn't. It came up with a friend in high school. We were talking about a man who had just been arrested for the murder of his wife. One of the stupid things he did was take out a life insurance policy on her like 3 months before he killed her. Like something out of a poorly written TV movie. We were trying to decide how far in advance you could buy a new policy before you killed someone and not make it suspicious.
Their belief was never. That there was no point where a life insurance policy wasn't suspicious. And I was shocked, their parents didn't have one out on them? And then it was their turn to be shocked. Mine did? Why? I was very matter of fact and said that it wasn't for much really, basically enough to cover funeral expenses, maybe a little more by now.
They thought it was really morbid.
And I guess in a way it was. But it was mostly just practical.
When I was born, looking at their history with kids my parents had a 50/50 shot of me living past childhood. Fifty fifty. My birth (and making it to 18) tipped the percentage of kids living to adulthood to roughly 57%. Unless you count the miscarriage Mom had between Jeff and Susan and then we are back down to 50%. But even my devout completely anti-abortion mother did not view her miscarriage in the same way as she did her two daughters that died short after birth and especially not how she viewed her son that died at 6.
At one point in time they were going to turn the policy over to me when I turned 18. My guess is that they either cashed it out or had stopped making payments on it or had lost it before that. They weren't in a place to give money away right around then so cashing it out or stopping payments on it would both make sense. I don't really know which one. But the good news (for me!) is that they didn't need to use to it bury another child.
I pushed those survival rates to more than half. Go me!
Odd little things like this form my view of the world. A world where you have insurance policies on infants. Where when you are vacationing in Iowa you stop and have a picnic lunch in the cemetery with your brother and sisters. Where the only pictures you have of your two oldest sisters are from their funeral, and it's just the coffins. Where when it's time to have your own children you have to explain to your husband that the frilly white bassinet looks like how they set up a child's coffin for the funeral and you'd really rather not. Where discussions about your dead siblings make you feel like they are a part of your life even though they died long before you were born.
It's kind of morbid. But it's also not. It's very practical. I'm not afraid of dying. It is a thing that happens to all of us. Young, old, inbetween; accidents, health, unexplained unknowable reasons. It's going to happen. And it was part of growing up for me. The knowledge that it was coming. And that it was okay.
Because that was the overall lesson about death when I was growing up. That it was all okay. Now, yes, that was because it was part of their religious belief. Heaven was on the other side. That was something to look forward to. My mother talked about being reunited with the girls and Mark and then after Dad died with Dad as well. It was a reunion she was looking forward to. It's something my siblings talk about now. That they are all reunited now and that someday they too will join the rest of the family.
Not me. I don't think that way. But when I left the religion I didn't leave my general okayness around death. It was too far ingrained in who I am. It's coming for all of us. So worrying about dying doesn't make sense to me. I just don't view it the same way. I don't see a glorious reunion with family and friends who have gone before me. Honestly I'm not sure what happens, but I don't have any memory of what came before I was born and that doesn't scare me so why should what comes next?
But still, as I was thinking yesterday that number kept popping in my head. Four out of seven births lived to adulthood. Four out of eight pregnancies. Even growing up with it, even knowing it, sometimes it hits me in a fresh way.
No wonder my fiction is 50% ghosts.
It's how I was raised.
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not."
Wednesday, September 25, 2019
More On Cars...
So more on my red car analogy from yesterday.
Today is a day where I am not only noticing the red cars but really seeing how people are driving. And well, you know you get on busy roads right? You just want to leave them and go to Dairy Queen's drive through and eat ice cream in your car until it all feels better.
Or is that just me?
Oh.
Okay, so I've NEVER felt that way. Just ignore it.
This morning Brent and I talked politics, how can you help but talk them right now? Our democracy is dying.
And that was the first problem. The voice in my head (Grieving Denise?) thought I just don't have the capacity for more death right now. I'm full. But I pushed that aside as silly. Not related. Don't be so fucking dramatic. Yes Bad Denise talks to all of the other Denises in the same way that she gets shushed from talking to the outside world.
Then I got an email from a friend I haven't heard from in awhile. See, her husband died earlier this year and so she's been dealing with that. And Facebook has been stressing her out in a time she has no room for more stress. She's also full. But today she reached out to say I'm still here. And we talked for awhile and I forgot that she didn't know Mom had died. So I just tossed something about it in the conversation. And then was like...oh yeah...wait...sorry. I didn't mean to just slam that in there on you like that.
But we chatted for a little bit and talked about a mutual friend who lost her husband a few years ago and is doing okay. Nobody is ever doing perfect. None of us ever believe that. But doing okay is pretty damn good. And she really is. She's kind of a rock star really. Raising the kids, recently started seeing someone and that's so good. It doesn't mean she's over it. You never get over it. And you don't want to get over it. But it means she's learned how to keep living with it. And that's always the goal. How do you make your life keep working when it just stopped for awhile?
And we talked about how the first time you have a major death of someone close to you you aren't sure that you can. I mean you know logically that you can. You've seen others do it. So you know it can be done, but it doesn't feel like it when you are going through it. You cannot imagine that something could hurt like that and you can survive it. But once you've done it, you know you can do it. Sort of...
Because, man, those red cars are all a little different from each other aren't they?
Losing a parent, losing a friend, losing a spouse...really different.
A few months before Dad died a friend of mine lost his father. His parents had been married about the same amount of time that Mom and Dad had been. My mother is, was, an asker afterer. You know what I mean? If she met you, if she ever had a conversation with you, you were now on her list. In the years before Facebook I would get clippings she had saved for me, or phone calls. People I had gone to school with, that I had almost forgotten, my mother wouldn't have and if she saw something about them she let me know. "Oh you remember that sweet girl Becca who you went to Pre-First with? Well she opened an ice cream shop." No, I don't remember her, but yay? Once Facebook came around I was able to give my mother tidbits about people's lives which made her really happy. "Oh I always knew they'd grow up much nicer than their parents." My mother was good at side shade.
So anyway after Dad died and Mom would ask me about my friend's mother at first I didn't think much of it. It is, was (seriously having a hard time with the past tense), just her way. But after a few months I finally got it. She was measuring. Trying to see when she would feel better. And it wasn't working. When I would say, "Oh she's okay. She just got back from (insert trip here) and is planning on (insert trip here)." My mother would sigh and say she couldn't imagine when she would feel like that again. I finally had to tell her that her and Dad's relationship was very different than my friend's parents.
They were both driving red cars, but they had come from very different garages.
And that makes it so hard when you are dealing with your own grief and witnessing other people deal with theirs. You are trying to find a normal checkpoint and there isn't one. Every single time it's different. We can know that we will make it through because they have, or we have in the past, but we don't know when. We don't know how. We don't know how many "I'm fine" days we will get in a row before we are hit with a "the world is shit and I want ice cream" day.
Our democracy is dying.
I have friends who are grieving and I can't fix it for them.
And I'm an orphan.
I don't want my red car today.
Today is a day where I am not only noticing the red cars but really seeing how people are driving. And well, you know you get on busy roads right? You just want to leave them and go to Dairy Queen's drive through and eat ice cream in your car until it all feels better.
Or is that just me?
Oh.
Okay, so I've NEVER felt that way. Just ignore it.
This morning Brent and I talked politics, how can you help but talk them right now? Our democracy is dying.
And that was the first problem. The voice in my head (Grieving Denise?) thought I just don't have the capacity for more death right now. I'm full. But I pushed that aside as silly. Not related. Don't be so fucking dramatic. Yes Bad Denise talks to all of the other Denises in the same way that she gets shushed from talking to the outside world.
Then I got an email from a friend I haven't heard from in awhile. See, her husband died earlier this year and so she's been dealing with that. And Facebook has been stressing her out in a time she has no room for more stress. She's also full. But today she reached out to say I'm still here. And we talked for awhile and I forgot that she didn't know Mom had died. So I just tossed something about it in the conversation. And then was like...oh yeah...wait...sorry. I didn't mean to just slam that in there on you like that.
But we chatted for a little bit and talked about a mutual friend who lost her husband a few years ago and is doing okay. Nobody is ever doing perfect. None of us ever believe that. But doing okay is pretty damn good. And she really is. She's kind of a rock star really. Raising the kids, recently started seeing someone and that's so good. It doesn't mean she's over it. You never get over it. And you don't want to get over it. But it means she's learned how to keep living with it. And that's always the goal. How do you make your life keep working when it just stopped for awhile?
And we talked about how the first time you have a major death of someone close to you you aren't sure that you can. I mean you know logically that you can. You've seen others do it. So you know it can be done, but it doesn't feel like it when you are going through it. You cannot imagine that something could hurt like that and you can survive it. But once you've done it, you know you can do it. Sort of...
Because, man, those red cars are all a little different from each other aren't they?
Losing a parent, losing a friend, losing a spouse...really different.
A few months before Dad died a friend of mine lost his father. His parents had been married about the same amount of time that Mom and Dad had been. My mother is, was, an asker afterer. You know what I mean? If she met you, if she ever had a conversation with you, you were now on her list. In the years before Facebook I would get clippings she had saved for me, or phone calls. People I had gone to school with, that I had almost forgotten, my mother wouldn't have and if she saw something about them she let me know. "Oh you remember that sweet girl Becca who you went to Pre-First with? Well she opened an ice cream shop." No, I don't remember her, but yay? Once Facebook came around I was able to give my mother tidbits about people's lives which made her really happy. "Oh I always knew they'd grow up much nicer than their parents." My mother was good at side shade.
So anyway after Dad died and Mom would ask me about my friend's mother at first I didn't think much of it. It is, was (seriously having a hard time with the past tense), just her way. But after a few months I finally got it. She was measuring. Trying to see when she would feel better. And it wasn't working. When I would say, "Oh she's okay. She just got back from (insert trip here) and is planning on (insert trip here)." My mother would sigh and say she couldn't imagine when she would feel like that again. I finally had to tell her that her and Dad's relationship was very different than my friend's parents.
They were both driving red cars, but they had come from very different garages.
And that makes it so hard when you are dealing with your own grief and witnessing other people deal with theirs. You are trying to find a normal checkpoint and there isn't one. Every single time it's different. We can know that we will make it through because they have, or we have in the past, but we don't know when. We don't know how. We don't know how many "I'm fine" days we will get in a row before we are hit with a "the world is shit and I want ice cream" day.
Our democracy is dying.
I have friends who are grieving and I can't fix it for them.
And I'm an orphan.
I don't want my red car today.
Tuesday, September 24, 2019
We All Drive Red Cars...
You know that feeling, that noticing thing. When you buy a new car and suddenly you see so many of those cars on the road. Nobody had a red car last week and now suddenly there are 100 red cars on your commute. How did that happen? It's not that there are suddenly more red cars, it's just that you now are focusing on them. Because you have a red car.
Since Mom died four people in my social circle have lost their mothers as well. Four. In just under a month. I asked Brent yesterday if he thought it was just that I was noticing more now or if it really did seem like a lot. His practical reply is that I'm old. More and more we are all going to be losing our parents.
Which is true, I am old, but two of the people were younger than me by quite a bit so they just got hit early.
But still, four.
The first one was the same week as Mom, the most recent just this week. And each time I've felt awful for them and done my best not to say, "Hey! Me too!" because, though I am a connector by nature, I realized that this is not the greatest Sames! moment to share.
And I also realize that my processing is probably very different than theirs. You all know, I'm sad but... I'm dealing with it, I'm not 100% but...I'm not devastated. I'm not wallowing. I'm really pretty much fine. Not great. But fine. And fine is not where most people are less than a month after their mother dies.
But she was ready to go. So I have that. She made the decision to go. So I have that. I fell apart when Dad died and every day since then had just been waiting for Mom to join him. So I have that. And we were losing Mom in stages over the years so I have that. And we had the two weeks of anytime now to really feel fucked up, so I have that.
But it's still been interesting to see how differently the four have reacted.
And as a writer it's been hard not to really look at the differences and want to ask questions and take notes and put together character sketches for short stories...basically all the really inappropriate things that I normally feel like doing, but amplified. Because, for goodness sake, their mothers just died. You know...like mine? Who I should probably be mourning a little more publicly? I mean what will the neighbors think?
And I also get that all I'm seeing is a small slice of what they are sharing publicly. I don't really know if they are dealing with it the way they are showing it. I don't know if they are putting on a brave face, or a less than brave face, or acting the way they think they should be acting, or the way they are really feeling. Pretty much the way social media always is. You only get to see what people show you. Not everyone is as "HEY! LOOK AT THIS WEIRD THING!" as I am.
And I also know that grieving can be quiet or loud. One of my friends started out the public grieving so subtly that I thought that's what was happening, but I wasn't sure until about a week later when she actually said, "Mom died." It took her awhile to even get to the words. But the photos changed. The things she was doing changed. There were moments that resonated with me that I thought, "Am I seeing this because of what I'm dealing with or is she dealing with the same thing?"
My profile pictures for the past month have rotated through pictures of Mom, pictures that capture my emotions, and the past two are shots my mother took of me. There are a lot of other pictures she took through the years of me but most of them are of my ass. In the years before digital photography it was pretty much a family joke that over half of the pictures my mother would take of me would be of my backside. She swore it wasn't her fault, I just wouldn't sit still. And I did hate to have my picture taken so odds are if the camera was out I was hiding. So between my constant state of motion and my hatred of photos there are a lot of pictures of my ass. But even if they aren't backside shots they are rarely serious. I would pull a face, or do the Ta Da! pose. Never a serious shot. But they made her laugh. And she had the best laugh. So...
Everyone grieves in different ways. Those of us that are really pretty much fine. Really. And those of us that aren't.
We're all driving red cars.
Since Mom died four people in my social circle have lost their mothers as well. Four. In just under a month. I asked Brent yesterday if he thought it was just that I was noticing more now or if it really did seem like a lot. His practical reply is that I'm old. More and more we are all going to be losing our parents.
Which is true, I am old, but two of the people were younger than me by quite a bit so they just got hit early.
But still, four.
The first one was the same week as Mom, the most recent just this week. And each time I've felt awful for them and done my best not to say, "Hey! Me too!" because, though I am a connector by nature, I realized that this is not the greatest Sames! moment to share.
And I also realize that my processing is probably very different than theirs. You all know, I'm sad but... I'm dealing with it, I'm not 100% but...I'm not devastated. I'm not wallowing. I'm really pretty much fine. Not great. But fine. And fine is not where most people are less than a month after their mother dies.
But she was ready to go. So I have that. She made the decision to go. So I have that. I fell apart when Dad died and every day since then had just been waiting for Mom to join him. So I have that. And we were losing Mom in stages over the years so I have that. And we had the two weeks of anytime now to really feel fucked up, so I have that.
But it's still been interesting to see how differently the four have reacted.
And as a writer it's been hard not to really look at the differences and want to ask questions and take notes and put together character sketches for short stories...basically all the really inappropriate things that I normally feel like doing, but amplified. Because, for goodness sake, their mothers just died. You know...like mine? Who I should probably be mourning a little more publicly? I mean what will the neighbors think?
And I also get that all I'm seeing is a small slice of what they are sharing publicly. I don't really know if they are dealing with it the way they are showing it. I don't know if they are putting on a brave face, or a less than brave face, or acting the way they think they should be acting, or the way they are really feeling. Pretty much the way social media always is. You only get to see what people show you. Not everyone is as "HEY! LOOK AT THIS WEIRD THING!" as I am.
And I also know that grieving can be quiet or loud. One of my friends started out the public grieving so subtly that I thought that's what was happening, but I wasn't sure until about a week later when she actually said, "Mom died." It took her awhile to even get to the words. But the photos changed. The things she was doing changed. There were moments that resonated with me that I thought, "Am I seeing this because of what I'm dealing with or is she dealing with the same thing?"
My profile pictures for the past month have rotated through pictures of Mom, pictures that capture my emotions, and the past two are shots my mother took of me. There are a lot of other pictures she took through the years of me but most of them are of my ass. In the years before digital photography it was pretty much a family joke that over half of the pictures my mother would take of me would be of my backside. She swore it wasn't her fault, I just wouldn't sit still. And I did hate to have my picture taken so odds are if the camera was out I was hiding. So between my constant state of motion and my hatred of photos there are a lot of pictures of my ass. But even if they aren't backside shots they are rarely serious. I would pull a face, or do the Ta Da! pose. Never a serious shot. But they made her laugh. And she had the best laugh. So...
Everyone grieves in different ways. Those of us that are really pretty much fine. Really. And those of us that aren't.
We're all driving red cars.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)